A/N: I'm not even going to apologize for the lateness of this. Life got in the way and I had characters who weren't entirely sure about how this was going to go down. *sigh* Anyway, it's done and ya'll should be happy! *nervous look* Do I have to prepare for the Apocalypse with you all?
I really hope not.
Good luck and let me know what you all think!
Disclaimer: I own nothing of money making ability. But Charlie and Islinde are mine. No touchy.
Ryotarmo
"Mama!"
Islinde runs towards the enraged woman within moments after she spoke, hardly paying any mind to her now wet clothes and hair and simply trying to get back to her mother. The mother in question keeps her enraged gaze locked on Nuxosk, only acknowledging her daughter when she wraps her arms around her leg, laying a calming hand on top of the little girl's head. "You have yet to answer me, Nuxosk," she growls, her voice menacing.
"I do not need to answer to you," he spits back, forcibly shoving away his fear. He retakes the step he had taken back, his grip around Ryotarmo tightening.
"Then I guess I will just have to make you."
"You can try," he counters, raising the katana at his side and pointing it at her. The glow characteristic of the blade begins to encompass it until it fades into the blade, arranging the particles of matter around them to the form he desires. He will have to make her next containment far more durable than the last. However, he has no idea how it was that she managed to shatter the previous one so thoroughly when even her fire could do nothing.
There's a sudden blue glow emanating from her left hand and his eyes unwillingly focus on it, curious. His eyes widen finding the wavy, turquoise blade clutched in her fist. When did she come into possession of that? "That won't work, Nuxosk," she calls, her voice still low with growls. He is seriously starting to wonder if he's dealing with a rational being anymore.
He lowers the blade back to his side, knowing full well that she's right but refusing to admit so out loud. If that blade truly is Volyauri, like it appears to be, then Ryotarmo will have no effect against her. As long as she is in possession of that dagger, any time he tries to manipulate the matter around her, it will simply not respond. An occupational hazard of trying to make two blades forged from the same sword fight each other. Which means, he needs to reassess how he's going to reach his end goal.
The princess lowers herself into a crouch beside her daughter, her enraged eyes never once leaving Nuxosk's face. Islinde's arms wrap around the woman's neck and she can feel her shaking as she pulls her close to her body. She grins wickedly at him, a sinister gleam entering her eyes. "You made my daughter cry," she mutters.
If he had any ideas in his mind that he was still facing Sigyn or Charlie, they are wiped clean from his mind now. Whatever it is that this woman is, she is not either. Nothing but bloodlust shines out of those flaming red eyes.
"I wanna go home," Islinde whimpers, her voice muffled by her mother's skin.
Charlie's—if this is Charlie—arm tightens around her and she presses a quick, reassuring kiss to the side of her head. "Soon, baby girl," she responds. "For now, I need you stay behind me. Sit down and don't move. Okay?"
"Are you gonna get rid of the bad man?" she asks, leaning away to look up at her mother.
Charlie grins, still keeping her eyes on the enemy in front of her. It's not a reassuring grin, not for him. "Yes," she answers. "I'm going to get rid of the bad man now."
He scoffs. He's not that easy to get rid of. However… His eyes stray to the powerful blade in his hand. Without Ryotarmo's abilities, he pretty much lost his greatest advantage in this fight. He was counting on this weapon to ensure his victory against the prince and princess. He may not hold Charlie in the highest regard—after all, she is only a woman—but to dismiss her as an easy opponent would be unwise. After all, her skill as a warrior has spread far and wide and even he has heard about her prowess on the battlefield and off. However, she is not nearly as skilled as her husband and that was why he needed Ryotarmo.
Charlie's—and even Sigyn's—abilities do not lie in magic. Yes, they can both wield it with some level of skill, Sigyn moreso than Charlie, but their talents lie in physical combat and fire. And from what he saw during her stay on Maglubiyet, she will not last long against him in a physical fight. Fire will be no good against him. He is immune. Perhaps if she could channel her hottest flame for longer periods of time, she would have a higher chance of success.
And she just so happens to have Volyauri with her as well. His employer will definitely be pleased by that.
Charlie chides her daughter to let go and stand back, rising fully once the child is where she needs to be. Volyauri's light pulses once more and the space behind her shrouds completely in darkness, cutting off his vision from seeing Islinde. His eyes narrow at her. Before he can voice anything, though, Islinde does it for him. "Mama?" she calls.
"Don't worry, baby girl," she responds, stepping forward and flipping the knife in her hand so the blade is lying against her forearm. "Why don't you sing that lullaby Daddy always sings you? I'd love to hear it right now."
"Is that really appropriate at the moment?" he asks her, moving to hold the hilt of the katana in both hands.
"You don't get to speak," she growls. He gets no warning from her other than a sudden glow in her fire-red eyes before a line in front of him bursts into flame, cutting off his sight of her. He stumbles back a step in surprise—not because of the heat, but because he didn't expect Charlie to still be able to do that little trick. So, who exactly is he fighting right now?
An arm comes swiping through the flames and he manages to duck out of the way of the blade's swipe just barely in time. However, he doesn't get a chance to recover before he's sent flying backwards by a kick to his chest. He lands roughly on his back, just barely managing to prevent himself from losing his grip on Ryotarmo. He rolls and pushes himself up as she steps through the flames, Islinde's voice suddenly making an appearance as she sings a song in a language that he doesn't understand. It sounds far off and slightly faint though.
"Why hide her away, princess?" he taunts, taking a step back from her and swinging the blade in front of him to reassert his grip on it, keeping it pointed at her.
"She doesn't need to see me murder you," she answers.
Out of all the answers he was expecting, that was not one of them.
"I am not the one who is going to be dying today," he counters. His lips pull into a mocking smile. "And once you are gone, I can give my employer your daughter and that blade you are carrying. He will be most pleased to see it."
She doesn't bother responding. Her eyes narrow a second before she charges forward. He swings the blade in front of him in an arc, hoping to cut her down only for him to meet resistance in the form of her own knife clashing against his sword, scrapping metal assaulting his ears as she moves the knife down the katana's edge. He presses back against the smaller weapon, hoping for her to slip but it doesn't work. She moves in a step, the dagger sliding further down his blade, and she grabs his wrist in a tight hold with her free hand. One of her legs hooks around the back of his and she pulls it out from under him. Just as he's about to stumble backwards, yet again, her grip shifts on his wrist. She pivots her body around, dragging his wrist with her to toss him over her shoulder.
He lands on his back for the second time in as many minutes. Again, he's forced to roll away without really getting a chance to process as Volyauri is brought down on him right where his throat had been. She doesn't waste time in correcting her stance and stalking him down. If there's anything that is truly frightening about this fight, she isn't bothering with rushing him and trying to finish this fight quickly. She moves with a steady grace that belies her training. A type of training that Sigyn did not showcase during her stay. As he rises to his feet and side steps around her in a wide arc, he again has to wonder who in the world he is fighting. Because right this instant, she is showing skills from both Sigyn and Charlie.
Is that even possible?
"Do I make you nervous, Nuxosk?" she taunts, attempting to walk towards him as he keeps moving around her in an arch. She tips her head to the side. "Does the woman frighten you?"
He clenches his teeth. She dare mock him? She may be a princess but she has no right to speak to him like that. She is still beneath him.
Keeping Ryotarmo in one hand, he charges the few paces in between them quickly, bringing the blade around in front of him in an attempt to cut across her body. She bends backwards, ducking out of the way of the blade easily and kicking her leg up to land a blow against his wrist. His hand spasms in pain, but he manages to keep his hold on the blade. If he loses this katana, even if she doesn't pick it up, he will have lost the fight. It's clear that she has no intention of letting go of Volyauri and all it will take is one brush of that and he's done.
She flips backward, righting her posture quickly and charging at him without waiting. He doesn't get a chance to shake out his pounding wrist as he is forced on the defensive, blocking from her kicks and punches as well as her slashes from the knife. He barely manages to get in a few hits himself as their fight continues, the woman moving faster than he would expect, given her state of dress and attitude. He won't admit that it's almost too fast for him to keep up.
He manages to get a hit in with Ryotarmo sometime later, bringing the blade over his head. She isn't able to jump away fast enough and he splits open the cloth covering her shoulder. Blood rushes out quickly, red pooling onto her clothes and rushing down her arm in a quick red river. She doesn't spare the wound more than a glance before she charges forward again. He blinks in surprise, moving backward from her charge. That's a deep wound. How is she still able to move with such ease and not even show an ounce of pain?
He reacts too slow, his surprise affecting him more than it should. She grabs hold of his wrist with her left hand. Using that as an anchor, she throws her body to the side, wrapping her right leg around the back of his neck, her left one joining it on the other side. Using the momentum, she throws him to the ground using the force of her legs, pinning his arm to the ground in the process and landing him in a neck-lock. It's clear from the amount of pressure that she is placing on his wrist that she is trying to get him to relinquish his hold on Ryotarmo. And if the pressure around his neck is any indication, he may just have to.
He suddenly wishes he had taken his benefactor up on his offer of that blasted poison so he could just set her on fire and be done with it.
She growls, obviously irritated at the length of time it's taking for him to let go. He refuses to do so, however. He absolutely cannot let go of this blade. He can't see what she might be doing, which is immensely frustrating. He attempts to kick her in order to give her somewhat of a hard time, but he's only met with the stinging pain of a cut against his leg in retaliation. He just doesn't realize that that was a bad thing to do.
A sudden smarting pain scratches across the back of his hand and he can't help but shout in pain and anger. Another slash and he realizes that she's using Volyauri to cut up the back of his hand. He manages to keep his grip for three more slashes before it becomes too much. The katana falls to the ground with a short clatter. She pushes it away, releasing her grip around his neck and rolling off of him, sweeping up the blade in her free hand. He gulps in some much needed air, pushing himself up with minor difficulty.
She stands in front of him, gripping both of the blades tightly in her fists, Volyauri dripping with the blood from her shoulder and his hand. Her eyes are darting around, taking quick glances at the world around them. "So that's what's really going on," she mutters, focusing on him once again, smirking slightly. "Good to know."
He squares his shoulders, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes. He's not about to go down without a fight.
The two simply stand there, sizing the other up. It's only then that he's made aware of the girl's singing. Apparently she's still going. And it's the same song as what she started off with. How long is that stupid lullaby? Charlie seems to notice his captured attention and she narrows her eyes in renewed anger. She turns her body just enough to that she's facing him from the side, lifting her left arm up behind her, not even wincing when the move pulls on her open wound. Ryotarmo's magenta glow encompasses the blade, left pointed out to the horizon and not at either him or the girl currently being shielded from him.
"And what do you plan on doing now?" he asks, preferring not to wait to find out.
She doesn't respond and the glow of the blade disappears, but she keeps it held aloft behind her. His eyes narrow, darting around to figure out just what the hell she's doing. After a few tense moments, he realizes what the difference is: Islinde's voice is fainter, and growing fainter every second. She's moving her away.
"I am taking my daughter to her father," she tells him. "I think it would be best to keep her away from what I'm about to do to you."
He snorts, keeping up his bravado and ignoring the pulsing pain in his hand, using the majority of his willpower not to cradle it. However, he can admit to himself that his odds are not that great now that she has both Volyauri and Ryotarmo in her grasp.
She drops her arm back to her side. She then does something that makes him blink in surprise. She tosses both blades aside, making sure that they land somewhere behind her. The black shroud behind her immediately dissipates. She turns her body to face him completely, her eyes burning. "What are you doing?" he asks, sounding completely exasperated. She just tossed away her only chance of getting away from this encounter alive.
"I am going to kill you myself," she answers. "The half-goblin, half-mortal abomination is going to completely destroy you. And I won't even need the help of the two blades of power kept within our lore." She grins, that sadistic gleam in her eye shining that much brighter. "Won't that be deliciously ironic?"
"Oh, really?" he taunts, an over-confident smirk twisting his features.
She snorts. "This fight has already been decidedly one-sided, Nuxosk. And I have every intention of keeping it that way."
"Keep dreaming," he hisses, clenching his fists tighter. "I will defeat you. And then I will lay waste to all that you love. Your daughter and husband will only be the start of the devastation for all that I will destroy."
She snorts. "Could you be anymore stereotypical?" She shakes her head. "Enough talking. I'd rather settle this."
Without further warning, the immediate circumference around him engulfs in bright blue flames, making him wince from the brightness of the light. He growls in irritation. After all, he can't tell where she's coming from if the flames lick up to his hairline. He manages to duck out of the way of a punch that comes out of the flames in front of his face, but misses the immediate knee to the stomach that she lands on him. He can't help but double over in pain, grunting. Unfortunately, his nose falls straight into her elbow at the same time. He's forced to stumble through the back of the blue flames, a hand covering his now bleeding nose as she follows him, the trail of fire following in her wake as he keeps backtracking.
He can't move too far, unfortunately. Without having Ryotarmo in his hand, he can't tell where the end of this platform is, so he has to be careful about his footing. His only benefit is knowing that she can't tell where the edge is either. He growls in annoyance. He needs to stop being defensive and actually inflict some pain and get a leg up. So, she's tougher than he thought she would be. She still should be no match for him.
His eyes land on the two blades resting quietly on the floor about fifteen feet away from them both. He could finish this easily if he could get to them both. Her fire is nothing to him, so all he has to do is side-step her and get around her. Easy.
Setting his resolve, he faces her for all of five seconds, taking in a breath to further set his determination. She lurches forward, raising her arm. He jumps to the right, successfully moving away from her attack. Only, she pivots on her foot, following him as he takes the few steps to move around her. With a quick jab of her injured arm against a point in his shoulder, a searing pain erupts down his arm and he stumbles to a stop, pressing his hand against the point of pain. He looks down to inspect his arm, trying to find any blood, but finds nothing. He looks up just in time to see her rush toward him. Like she did before, she jabs at a few more points along his arm and each spot erupts in renewed pain. He manages to kick her away from him, but that does nothing for his now immobile arm.
"What did you do?" he hisses at her, attempting to lift his arm from his side. All of his attempts prove to be futile, however. His right arm—and more dominant arm—lies limp at his side. He cannot move it at all.
She snorts. "I've begun your demise," is the only answer she gives before she's in motion again. He grimaces, but manages to block her attack with his left arm, preventing her from jabbing him again. Their fight becomes very messy, with her simply attempting to punch him in that odd way again, using a modified version of a closed fist with her middle finger slightly raised, and him simply keeping her back with his one arm and his fire if he needs to. Which, of course, does absolutely nothing to her.
He doesn't know how long that little fight lasts but he suspects it's not long at all. She slips past his defenses easily and one of her jabs happens to land against the outside of his collarbone close to his heart. His chest explodes in pain and he is suddenly faced with a spinning world as he doubles over. She brings her leg up and kicks him square in the face, sending him flying backwards. He lands on his back, the wind leaving his lungs quickly. He simply lies there, blinking up at the multi-colored sky in a daze. He attempts to relearn how to breathe and to squeeze the feeling back into his dead hand, doing his best not to roll over and eject the contents of his stomach.
She's suddenly standing over him. Her eyes are still a swirling red of fire, that shroud of blue flames about her finally cooling to a calm red and orange. He blinks up at her in a daze. How did she manage to do this to him with a singular blow to his chest? He coughs. "What now?" he wheezes up at her.
She grins, a purely evil smile. "Now, you die," she answers. It's only then he notices that Volyauri and Ryotarmo are back in her hands as the light from the latter catches his attention.
He watches the magenta blade as it shifts form. He blinks in surprise. He was unaware the powerful blade itself could shift shape. Before he knows it, he's staring down the barrel of a metallic object, similar to the laser guns on his home world, but much smaller and more compact. The black metal doesn't even reflect the light of the fires she is producing nor the nebula overhead. He can vaguely see a magenta coloring lining where her hand grips the device. She lifts it just enough to point it directly between his eyes.
"Such a crude instrument," he comments, coughing again.
Her grin doesn't slip. "How fitting to have you die by the hands of a mortal weapon," she counters.
It's only then that he meets her eyes for what he knows is probably the final time. His eyes widen in genuine fear this time. "Your eyes…"
"Goodbye, Nuxosk."
Bang.
OoO
Loki glares at the thirty-foot wide block that is in front of him, trying to find any weakness in it in order to get back inside. Nuxosk is a clever bastard, he'll give him that.
The skiff he's on moves in a slow circle around the giant cube, everyone on it looking for any sign of weakness from the material keeping his wife and child hidden inside. They've already proved that attempting to shoot at it to create an opening is pointless. It seems the defenses and enchantments placed in his chambers are still active, even with their changed shape. Finding a way inside magically will be pointless and using brute force isn't working either.
Thor stands by his side, also glaring at the prominent space in front of them, his grip on Mjolnir tight. "Are we simply meant to stand here and wait?" he asks, his voice low. Thunder crackles over all their heads, simply showcasing the Lord of Thunder's displeasure at this turn of events.
"Wait for what, exactly?" Loki asks in turn, doing his best not to get impatient or irritated with his brother. After all, he's just as powerless. And he knows exactly what is going on in there. His wife is trapped in a containment she has no hopes of escaping or being able to fight back against her adversary. And he's under no delusions that Islinde isn't in there with them somewhere. As soon as he had fallen away, he saw just how complicated Nuxosk's set up really was. From the outside, there is absolutely no way to see what is going on inside. The walls of this unconventional box are made from the materials of his chambers and while he cannot pinpoint each individual object—as they have all been made into one after all—you can make out that this is a different object from anything seen on Asgard. It has a distinct shape but no color. However, you cannot see through it either.
It is very difficult to describe.
What he could see of Asgard on the inside is nothing more than a projected image. Those on the inside cannot see what is truly going on on the outside. It must have been immediately obvious when Nuxosk made his attack, for Asgard's aerial army was dispatched almost immediately. As soon as he landed on the skiff that caught him from his fall, he knew what he had been seeing inside the cube was not an accurate depiction of what was going on. Currently, they have the space completely surrounded by skiffs. His mother happens to be standing at the bow of this one, Thor and himself at the helm waiting for any indication of what might be going on inside.
"A sign of anything at all would be what I am looking for, brother," Thor counters, obviously keeping a rein on his own temper.
"Bickering will not help tempers nor the situation, boys," Frigga calls to them both, only turning her head enough to spare them a quick glance over her shoulder. "Focus your efforts on finding a way to break through this enchantment."
"It is not an enchantment, Mother," Loki calls, not for the first time since he landed on this skiff. But to find any other way to describe what they are up against is proving to be incredibly difficult. A blade—a katana, to be precise—that can manipulate matter and even enhance his own enchantments is something that he has never faced before. He thought Volyauri was nothing more than a channel for the power that you placed inside of it. His assumption was very wrong.
Both Volyauri and Ryotarmo are powers in their own right. All they need is a source to be placed inside them.
"Whatever it is, it needs to be stopped and destroyed," Thor states.
He has to resist the need to say duh in typical Charlie fashion. Apparently his wife has rubbed off on him more than he thought.
Loki has been keeping the majority of his attention on that inner sense that he has of Charlie and her magic. Since he had fallen away from her, it has been essentially in a constant state of flux, mirroring her raging emotions. All of a sudden, her magic starts roiling that much faster and he can definitely sense panic from her. A sense of panic that he hates to admit that he is familiar with sensing from her. It's the same panic she feels when she's in the midst of one of her nightmares just before she wakes.
He clenches his jaw, his already balled fists tightening. Something isn't right. "We need to hurry," he mutters.
"Hurry to do what, exactly?" Sif asks at his side, her brown eyes belying her worry and fear. "Unless a miracle happens, there is no way we are going to—"
A force that can only be described as a sonic wave pushes against them all, cutting off Sif's speech. Loki and Thor are pushed back a step by the force, Sif falling against the side of the skiff and Frigga stumbling a few paces backwards. Once whatever that was passes, they correct their stance and stare forward at the source. However, Loki has to blink rapidly, his own magic responding in kind to what just happened.
In that instant, he knows.
"Charlie," he mutters, just barely daring to hope.
"What?" Thor and Sif ask, rounding on him with wide eyes. Frigga simply looks at him.
"That was Charlie," he answers, still trying to sort through the feelings and readings he is getting from her. "She's back." He shakes his head. "I think."
"You think?" Sif repeats.
He can only shake his head helplessly. While it certainly feels like his wife, it also has that sense of being… off. And considering the only emotion he is reading from her is complete and utter rage, he cannot try and read her emotions to see if she has complete certainty of who she is.
"What was that force just now?" Thor asks, clearly pushing aside the problem of Charlie's mental state aside for the moment.
"I do not know," Frigga answers, resuming her stare on the only area of Asgard that she does not have access to. "But I suddenly have a feeling that this is about to come to a conclusion soon."
A barrage of laser fire hits the opposite side of the cube from where they are on and Loki looks over to see Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun on the skiff that released that barrage of gunfire. From all of their determined faces, it is clear that they are trying to bust their way in. Loki can't help but hope that they found something, some kind of weak spot. However, after several minutes of repeated fire, nothing changes.
Loki growls in frustration, stalking forward and standing beside his mother. He lifts his hand, bringing out his magic and sending it out in a wave to read the cube once again. He did this once before, simply forcing his magic to scan the area looking for any weak spots where they might be able to force their way inside. That time proved to be useless. He waits patiently for his magic to do its work, watching as it covers the entire surface in a thin coating of his magic. Seconds pass by and the readings come back to him proving that nothing has changed.
He cannot be expected to just sit out here, useless, while his family is still stuck inside.
"Daddy!"
Loki whirls around at his daughter's voice. Thor blinks in surprise finding his niece standing at his side. She clambers to her feet before running full tilt to him. He scoops her up and she wraps her arms around his neck. He can feel her body shaking and he has to suppress his anger knowing that Nuxosk made his daughter cry.
He cradles the back of her head, only just realizing that she's completely soaked. "Islinde, are you alright?" he asks her.
She nods against his neck, sniffing.
"How did she get here?" Sif asks, stepping towards them both. She runs her hand along Islinde's curls, narrowing her eyes slightly. "And what are these along her arms?"
Loki's own eyes narrow. He crouches down, placing Islinde back on her own feet. She still clings to him and he doesn't force her to let go of him. He traces his hand along her exposed arm, taking a good look at the slightly raised lines along her arms, looking almost like welts. Except…
His eyes widen. They are very similar to the patterns that show up on his skin when he takes on his full Jotun form. But, just to be sure… "Islinde," he calls to her, still keeping her close to him, "did he hurt you in any way?"
She shakes her head. "He tried to hurt Mama," she answers, obviously trying to be helpful.
That manages to capture his attention. "Tried?"
She leans back, one of her fists coming up to rub her eyes. Her eyes are bloodshot and cheeks puffy, tearstained. She simply nods. "But Mama fought back. She came back. She won."
He can't help the crooked grin he gives her. When it comes to their daughter, Mama will always win. His hand traces along her arm again, picking out the slightly raised lines. The details on them seems to be fading away. "Where did these come from, Islinde?"
She shrugs. "I hurt the bad man," she answers. "He was hurting Mama. They came with the cold."
"The cold?" he asks back, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
She only nods. Loki looks up at his mother, currently standing at both of their sides with Thor and Sif, all of them taking in the conversation quietly. Frigga looks slightly bemused. "Perhaps she is starting to show sides of your heritage, dear?" she offers, shrugging slightly.
"That would make sense," Sif comments. "After all, she is half-Jotun. We always speculated on whether or not she would be able to wield ice like you do."
Islinde blinks up at them all, looking confused. She looks back down at him and tugs on his shirtsleeve. "We need to help Mama," she tells him.
That they do. He nods to her, scooping her back up into his arms. He turns around to face the cube once more only to be met with a different sight than before. The cube is breaking up. All of them step towards the bow of the skiff, watching as the great block falls apart into a type of dusty, multicolored haze. Within seconds, it is nothing more than a massive orb made up of tiny particles floating in the space where it was occupied. Another moment later, each piece rockets toward the side of the palace and his and Charlie's chambers reform before their very eyes. Less than a minute later, the hole is completely refilled and not a single thing is out of place, at least from what he can tell from the outside.
"Does this mean…?" Sif mutters.
"She won," Thor answers, grinning wide.
Loki feels a little more apprehensive. If she won, then where is she? And why can he not sense her all of a sudden?
Thor takes the place of the pilot and moves the skiff over to Loki's balcony so they can jump off and investigate their rooms. The Warrior's Three take Charlie's chambers a single level down from them, all soundlessly agreeing that they need to be inspected. Loki doesn't necessarily care if anything is out of place. He needs to find his wife. And the fact that he can't sense her anymore is putting him on edge in a way that he wasn't when he simply could not see her.
They all walk into the main sitting room of his chambers and he hands Islinde over to his mother, the woman taking her without a word of question. He wanders through the room slowly, his eyes scanning the dark room for any sign of Charlie. Everything seems to be back in place and perfect, exactly how it was at the beginning of the night. That seems so long ago now. Sif turns to investigate the bedrooms while Thor moves off down the other hallway towards the study. "What is it, dear?" Frigga asks, standing in the center of the room as his eyes roam the area.
"Where is she?" he asks back, connecting his concerned green eyes with her own blue ones. "If she won, then where is my wife?"
"Everything appears to be in order," Sif announces, walking back into the room. She flips a lock of her dark hair back over her shoulder, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword.
Loki doesn't wait for Thor to get back. He marches straight toward the doors leaving his chambers, his anxiousness growing each second that he doesn't find Charlie. He leaves his rooms, looking down each hallway in turn. Again, nothing is out of place, perfect as it was before the night began. He walks quickly down the hallway, heading towards the center of the palace. He doesn't really know why he goes in this direction, but he feels it's a good place to start.
He's vaguely aware that everyone is following him, hardly paying them any mind as he winds his way down to the first level and leaves the royal wing altogether. It's as they exit the royal wing that they run into Boli. He tells them all that everything is as it was in Charlie's chambers as well except for one minor addition: Nuxosk's body, with a single bullet hole directly in the center of his forehead.
Loki leaves that information to settle into the back of his mind, only expressing a joy that the man is dead and no longer a nuisance to him or his family or Thukmet, for that matter. "Have you seen Charlie?" he asks the advisor, hoping for at least some good news on this already hellish night.
Boli shakes his head, his eyes closing tiredly. "I was hoping to hear that you had found her."
Pounding footsteps echo down the golden halls and they turn to find a guardsman running towards them all. He stops a few feet shy, bowing in respect before straightening. "Sorry to intrude, but the princess has been located," he reports, only panting slightly.
"Where?" Loki asks, his voice commanding urgency in the man's answer.
"Just outside the throne room, along the outside courtyard."
Loki is moving before the guardsman finished speaking, trying his best not to break out into a run. He makes the distance to the courtyard the guardsman spoke of quickly, using a few shortcuts along the way to get there faster. He must have been moving too fast because he's alone when he enters the enclosed stone area. His eyes scan the immense space, knowing the area well as it is a place for warriors to practice their ability and to learn from senior members. Charlie and himself have spent many hours here practicing with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif as well as personal sparring sessions.
He doesn't have to finish looking across the space before he locates his wife. She's about halfway across, moving slowly and sedately. The two moons bathe her hair in silver light, her nightclothes still in place. However, one arm of the shirt is much darker than the other and he can't help but worry over that. Within her hands, one blade in each fist, is Volyauri and Ryotarmo. Both are dormant at the moment.
"Charlie!" he calls to her, breaking out into a run in order to catch up to her. He still can't sense her, even though she's right there, in his eyesight. When she doesn't turn or even flinch at the call of her name, his worry skyrockets. Something is definitely wrong.
He catches up to her within seconds, her pace being as slow as it is. Now that he is beside her, he can see that her left shoulder is matted with blood which trails all the way down her arm. Volyauri is even dripping with it. He reaches out and grips her right shoulder, forcing her to stop. He takes the time to take a good look at her wound and realizes that it is very deep. How she's still standing, he has no idea. She must have lost a lot of blood already and yet she is still moving. She hasn't turned yet to acknowledge him. In fact, her stance is rigid and straight, completely still under his hand.
He swallows thickly, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Charlie?" he calls to her quietly as he takes the few steps to walk around her and face her. When he looks into her eyes, however, he steps back from her in surprise.
He doesn't find her forest green or fiery red irises at all. One eye is a roiling turquoise whereas the other is a burning magenta. Each color encompasses the entirety of her eye, similar to the black eyes of the Skarvi and Siditi races. He can't tell if she's even looking at him, or seeing him at all. He retakes the step he had taken back, cupping her face with both of his hands and tipping her head up. "Charlie?" he calls once more, hoping for some sign of recognition.
She doesn't even blink. "The third is missing," she mutters, her voice nothing more than a faint whisper.
"What?" he asks, fear starting to replace his worry.
"The third is missing," she repeats. "The third is missing. The third is missing. The third is missing."
She takes a step forward then, still chanting that one line over and over again and he's forced to let her go and move aside, watching as she walks forward and eventually away from him. He's at a complete loss for what to do. He has no idea what might be going on with her. How is he supposed to snap her out of this?
"Where are you going, Charlotte?" he shouts to her, hoping to spark some of that anger in her whenever she hears her full name. Not even that gets a response from her though.
"Charlie!" he shouts one more time, a little more desperate, even if he's remiss to admit it.
"Mama?"
Loki turns around to see that his mother and his daughter are about ten paces behind him, Islinde holding onto his her grandmother's hand. His little one has tears brimming in her eyes as she stares at her mother's back. His jaw clenches tightly. He hates seeing her cry.
He turns his focus back on his wife to see that her pace has slowed. His eyes narrow. "Mama," Islinde calls again and this time Charlie comes to a complete stop. She, very slowly, turns around, her eyes still nothing more than turquoise and magenta hues, but her focus seems to be on the little girl calling to her.
Islinde sniffs. "Are you going to leave me again?"
Loki can feel his heart breaking hearing his daughter ask that question in such a fragile voice. He knows he's not the only one, seeing his mother close her eyes in remorse. Loki turns back around to see that Charlie is still standing there, staring at their daughter. Shockingly, and unexpectedly, her eyes blink. And then again. He turns fully to face her, watching as the odd coloring of her eyes shifts and starts to fade as her eyes furrow in confusion. "Charlie?" he calls, feeling far more hopeful that he'll get a response this time.
Her eyes slowly focus on him, her irises starting to peek through. Her hands relax from their tight grip around the blades, both of them clattering to the stone floor moments later. She never once utters a word as she blinks the color from her eyes, her green eyes darting from Loki to Islinde quickly. He takes a step towards her.
Her eyes roll back into her head. He's moving long before her knees buckle under her and he manages to catch her just before she hits the ground. He picks her up bridal style, her head hanging limp off the back of his arm. He turns around, still scanning her to see if there's anything that he can do, trying to find some form of an answer to what just transpired. He finally lifts his eyes from her immobile face to his mother's alarmed one. "Healing chambers. Now."