AN: It is with great pride and a slightly heavy heart that I present for you the penultimate chapter of the Thrice Blood trilogy. The final chapter will be posted within the week.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Relygyr joined Thor on the parapet, bracing himself against the wall as he stared out over the seemingly endless sea of undead that stretched across the field.

Róttækir followed momentarily, his usually confident stride dampened by uncertainty.

"Orders, sir?"

Slowly, almost painfully, Relygyr pulled his shoulders back and stood up straight: a stony façade of the king he once was.

"My orders have not changed, Róttækir." His jaw set. "We fight." He stormed down the staircase, his cloak billowing.

Thor thundered down the steps on Relygyr's heels. "Relygyr," Thor burst out, "we face an army of the dead. No ordinary army will suffice."

"Then we will fight them with an extraordinary one," he said flatly.

Thor and Róttækir exchanged flabbergasted looks as Relygyr made his way into the great hall to join the panicked assembly that waited.

The stone walls rang with clamoring voices.

"It's an army of the dead! The ghosts of all wars past come to haunt us!"

"Lady Hel has unleashed her worst upon us!"

"No army could stand against this army of the damned!"

Thor pulled Relygyr aside forcefully. "Listen to me," he said. "This is not merely an army you face. This is an army of the damned. All the most violent, dishonorable, power-hungry kings and warriors of the past have assembled to come against you. Victory is impossible."

"Relygyr, he's right," Róttækir added. "These aren't normal soldiers. Even if you had twice as many men as you do now, it wouldn't be enough."

"I don't care. Today we fight."

Thor pounded his fist against the wall. "Damn it, Relygyr," he growled, "I beg you to listen to us, for your own and your peoples' sake."

"No," Relygyr shouted back. "You listen to me." He glared at the entire room. "ALL OF YOU!"

A hush fell over the room.

Relygyr stalked forward, shaking. "Look at yourselves," he said, "cowering like children afraid of the dark. You are children afraid of the dark. You're afraid to die!" He stared at the men gathered around. His eyes blazed. "You are cowards. Why are you afraid now?!" he demanded. "You, who have risked death every time you go into battle! Why is this battle any different?" He clenched his fists. "No, I shouldn't say that. This battle is different. This is a hopeless battle. Victory is impossible."

A wave of murmurs flitted through the room.

"BUT WILL THAT STOP US?!"

Silence fell.

"Will you stop, just because you cannot win? Do you think that if you do not fight you will live? Do you honestly think—" His voice shook. "Do you think," he continued, "that Balder, a vicious coward who killed a child—my child—when she least expected it, will have mercy on you because you do not fight? He will slaughter all of you! Whether you fight or not, we are all going to die." He shuddered. "So ask yourselves: how do you want to die? How do you want to be remembered? As a coward, who shrank into a corner when they saw the darkness coming? Or as a hero who went out fighting to their last, willing to sacrifice their life in pursuit of some slim hope that another might live?" He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I lost my child today," he said. "Perhaps, if we fight hard enough, we can spare another parent that pain."

Nobody said a word.

At last, Thor stood up on a table and held his hammer overhead. "For Ealyse!"

A few seconds passed. And then, a solitary voice in the crowd took up the cry, then another, and then another, until the entire room was filled with soldiers' shouting.

"FOR EALYSE!"

Slowly, the noise began to die down as—one by one—the crowd of soldiers moved aside to allow a newcomer to enter the room. The newcomer surveyed the room with his one eye.

Relygyr finally saw him. "Fury," he said, "I see you have recovered."

"Yes, I have."

Nervousness flashed across the king's face. "I have no intent of forcing your alliance. If you wish to rejoin Balder and Titania, I will not stop you. Do you intend to cross the battlefield and join their company?"

"I intend," said Fury, "to kick some ass."

The room broke out in battle cries.

Relygyr smiled. "Very well. Then let us fight."

And with a parting 'hurrah,' the soldiers pushed open the front doors and marched across the battlefield to meet their fate.

Titania and Balder did not look pleased to see the approaching army.

Relygyr and Fury matched their opponents' scowls, and stepped forward to speak—commander to commander.

"I knew you were a fool, Fury," Balder jeered, "but choosing the wrong side?" He clucked his tongue in mock disappointment.

"Watch who you're calling a fool, fool," he snapped. "You're the stupid one if you think I don't see through your act. I signed on to save the world from an apocalypse child. Now I've realized this whole war was really about some crazy vendetta you and Fairy-Wings over here have against Loki."

"Nothing crazy about it." Titania tilted her head. "I told Loki I would be coming. I warned him that if I ever had any descendants, I would be there to see them." She grinned toothily. "And here we are, waiting for the birth of Darcy's child."

Balder smirked. "Oh dear. You all seem to be standing in our way." He bowed with a sarcastic flourish. "Now would you all kindly step aside?"

"Over your dead body." His grief turned all at once to rage. Relygyr lunged forward, raising his sword over his head.

In the split second before Relygyr's sword met his foe's lowered neck, Balder's arm darted forward. Relygyr let out a cry of pain, clutching his stomach where Balder's sword protruded from it. Gasping, he crumpled to the ground.

"Ealyse's death is avenged." He wheezed, and then became motionless, his dead body still in victory next to the severed head of his daughter's killer.

Once her shock had worn off, Titania looked up from the ground to stare coldly at the men opposite her.

"LEGION!" she bellowed to her own army. "ATTACK!"

Without hesitation, the two armies surged towards each other, and in a clash of fury and steel, they collided.

Darcy closed her eyes. Though sweat and tears streamed down her cheeks with the effort of pushing, she didn't make a sound.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered, brushing away the hair that clung to her face. "I'm so sorry."

Sword and shield held high, Róttækir and Rogers led the charge.

Darcy answered in a high, frail voice. Loki could scarcely understand her, her teeth gritted against the pain. "Not…your…fault…We…have…to…know…" She let out a gasp. Loki instinctively pressed Darcy's hand in between both of his, squeezing tightly, his brow creased in worry. Darcy took a shaky breath, then licked her lips to continue speaking. "We have to know for sure, before it's too late."

Stark, Puck, and Coyote all charged towards Titania, bellowing madly.

The echoes of clattering steel carried in through the window. Loki looked up in alarm.

Darcy's face crumpled. "Oh no! They're fighting…"

Loki held her hand to his chest. "It's alright," he said, "it's alright. Just keep pushing."

Fury stood perfectly still, firing bullets into the head of any undead soldier that dared to draw near.

"But what if it's a girl?" Darcy panted. "What if it's not the child and they're fi—" Her voice cracked and for the first time she sobbed aloud.

"It doesn't matter," Loki assured her, now holding her shoulder comfortingly as her back arched into the bed. "If there's a mistake, we'll tell them, and the fighting will stop."

Sif and Rogers fought back to back, singlehandedly felling dozens of undead soldiers…but the legion continued to press in on them.

"There's too many of them," Sif panted. "We're never going to make it."

"There's no one I'd rather fall down fighting beside."

Wordlessly, the two twined their fingers together and each continued fighting with one hand.

Darcy's face contorted. Loki could feel her shoulders tensing with the effort of muffling a howl. Instead, she pushed and emitted a small whimper. At last, her cry was joined by the cry of another.

She opened her eyes and gave a quiet, watery laugh as she slouched forward, shaking as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Can you see? Can you see our baby?"

Loki gingerly lifted the child with a towel. As he wiped the blood away, he saw the child's skin turning from blue to pink. He removed the towel, revealing the lower half of a wriggling baby.

"I can see the baby." Despite his best effort, he began to cry. "I can see him."

Darcy gasped quietly. "Oh no…"

As if he hand understood his mother's words, the baby started to cry in earnest, flailing his arms until he knocked the towel away, giving Loki the first glimpse of his son's face.

He laughed softly.

"What? What is it?"

Loki shook his head, amazed that he could be so happy over something so small. He felt like a thousand firecrackers were going off in his chest. "Green eyes." He nearly choked on the lump in his throat. "He has my eyes," he said. "Just like you wanted him to."

But as he looked closer, he realized that wasn't quite true. He did have green eyes—uncommon for a baby—but on the right side he could see a stripe of gold, like a scar through the iris. A scar, the only remnant of a spell that would have killed an ordinary child, a fiery insignia of the child destined to die that so stubbornly clung to life.

He handed the baby to Darcy. She ran her fingers through the baby's thin layer of dark brown curls.

"He's beautiful," she murmured. Biting her lip, she looked up at her husband with watering eyes. "Loki, what are we going to do?" she cried.

Suddenly, Loki was struck with an idea. He froze.

"Loki?"

"No. No, no, no."

"Loki, what is it?!"

"I can't do it," he said. His knees gave out and he ran his hands through his hair. "It's too much. I can't."

"Loki, if you have an idea that can save our child, we have to try."

"No!" Loki stood up, tears twisting his face. "I have cut and slipped out of every knot I've ever encountered," he said, "but this is one knot that I cannot undo. The price is too high."

"Loki," Darcy pleaded thickly, "I am begging you. You have to save our son."

"No, I can't."

"Please!"

"I can't!"

Darcy snapped, her voice shuddering with desperation. "PLEASE!" The baby started crying again. Darcy struggled to speak through the grief that distorted her voice. "I can't let our son die," she breathed.

Loki swallowed heavily. After a long pause, he nodded.