Loki has a dreamless sleep, and wakes just as exhausted as when he arrived the night before. He can hear his family noisily chatting in the other room. Sigyn is already up with her sons, feeding them breakfast, and enjoying their stories of camping and the Don City, though she has told them that their father's bags must be left alone until he is awake and ready to open them. While Sigyn does know to expect something back from their trip, she does not want to impose and assume whatever is in his gear belongs to her. The boys do a fair job of keeping her jeweled gift a secret.
He sits up in bed, rubs his eyes, and takes a deep breath in. Tiwaz chirps at Loki from the floor. There is still a nagging sensation in his chest that he didn't take Freyr seriously, and he may have to pay the price. As he hears Vali and Narvi giggling in the other room with Sigyn's growls of a game, he can't stop thinking of Freyr's last words to him. Could they have to pay a price for my doubt? Somehow Freyr's words have infiltrated his mind like a sickness, and Loki does his best to block them out.
Sigyn and the children are waiting in the front room; she is cleaning up after a messy breakfast, and the boys are playing on the floor. Loki stands in the hall outside of it, watching them toss a ball back and forth. He says nothing, doesn't lean against the wall as he might normally, crossing his arms in front of his chest while he stares. Narvi and Vali do not notice, but Sigyn does, and she peeks her head around the kitchen entrance to watch her husband's gaze. Something is wrong with him, she thinks, becoming increasingly uneasy with the passing seconds of Loki's lack of movement and fixed eyes.
Before Sigyn can interrupt his thoughts with words, Loki quickly walks to the front door and leaves. He does not give a single word of his intent, and Sigyn is left staring at the entryway with worry. The boys have barely noticed a disturbance at all.
Loki walks outside of the fortress walls, knowing his destination, and yet is apprehensive of what he is about to attempt. If Regin was mistaken, and I see nothing, what harm could it do? Wouldn't I merely see a happy future with my children? Perhaps a clue that would help Vali calm, or Narvi come out of his shell. Or even the fortune of more life in our home. Loki's thoughts swirl from one end to the next, resting in the pit of his stomach in a knot of discontent. But if Freyr is right, and this…this Gorr is coming… what good would it do to know of it, if nothing can be done?
The grand tree that stands before Loki is ominous in its darkness and size, though it bears great life, and noisily screeches with birds and small critters that jump from its branches. Each small breeze makes the wood creak. Loki looks upon it as if it is a speaking creature itself, eyeing him warily. The fruit that hangs high above is bright red, inviting and yet threatening. Loki knows this is the place, having already slipped on the mud at the base of the tree, close to the spring that he seeks. Focusing on two knots in the wood that peer at him like eyes, Loki first bows slightly before stepping over the sprawling roots to get through to the water that burbles on the other side. He is careful to step very lightly, not treading on any of the many mushrooms that seem to be growing so fast they are popping out of the dirt while he watches. The stream is barely flowing, yet there is water present nonetheless. Loki reaches into his pocket for a flask, unscrews the lid, and fills it up as gingerly as he can manage, not wanting to disturb the sediment that surely contains concentrated power in itself.
Loki retraces his steps out to the tree, and finds that there is a dry spot right at its base. The tree groans, its leaves making sounds almost like ocean waves, calling out to Loki. He tips his head from side to side, still making contact with the knots above his eye level, finally determining that this is as good a place as any for his experiment. Loki sits against the tree, his knees up, and he shakes the flask in his hands while he debates if this is a wise decision. I should only drink a little, see what is in the coming days alone. There is no need to see into a long future should my suspicions be correct. It would be a waste, a disrespect even, of this gift. Loki looks up into the branches, almost seeking guidance from the unnamed authority here. He slowly unscrews the cap, and tips it up towards the tree as if giving a toast.
The moment the metal touches his lips, Loki is overcome with the flavor. He cannot place it, the sensation being both sweet and bitter, hot and cold, odorless and yet pungent. It initially makes Loki feel sick. This is not as pure as the Don City fountain, he thinks, though he swallows three times before squeezing his eyes as tightly as he can, and closing the lid to his flask. Loki grasps his knees with his palms to hold steady, already feeling as though he is moving too fast to stop. The ground beneath him changes as though it is made of marshmallow terrain, and he is sinking ever deeper into the sticky sludge. Loki breathes heavily, feeling as though he is suffocating, when finally before his eyes he sees a light and shapes that pull together to form his vision.
At first, Loki only sees his happy family, sitting around the fireplace and laughing. Vali has jumped on Loki's shoulders, and holding his hands high up into the air as he claims, "Victory over the mountain!" Loki is laughing with him, tackled from the side by Narvi. Sigyn is smiling widely. She seems bathed in gold light. Thank goodness, Loki says in his mind, but his comfort is but too early.
A loud crash sounds outside, and a gust of wind shoots down their chimney, blowing out the fireplace and spreading ash around the room. Loki can see himself run to their entryway, having to push hard to open the door. When he finally gets it to give way, the door blows off its hinges and flies above the house. The sky itself is stained black, and clouds are pouring in from the East. Sigyn and the children are cowering behind Loki, and he can hear her voice calling out to him, "What is it? What is happening?" with a panicked tone. Vali has started crying loudly, and Narvi seems in shock. Loki turns to see their faces, and he can only come back in to huddle over them. He hears his own voice saying, "I did not believe it! I doubted it, Sigyn!" and their home crashes and folds in around them. Loki is the only survivor of their home, immune to the poison in the air designed just for these inhabitants, and he walks the scorched land in search of anyone who might hear his calls.
Loki sees a great beast in the distance, with an expansive sword for an arm, leaping through the air and loudly laughing at his conquest. "You are not Gods, or Goddesses, or worthy of worship! You are under my foot, my army has defeated you from nothing! Do not dare cry, or pray, or wish for something as sweet as assistance from the heavens, for all have been snuffed out!" Loki feels himself curling over in sickness, looking out amongst his beloved mountain home, strewn with bodies clad in brown tunics. He hears a final call from the creature above, commanding his army of minions. "And now, we are on to Asgard!"
Loki wakes from his vision, his stomach hurting with spasms, his face yet again covered in tears. He stares at the flask in his hand, and throws it on the ground in dismay, too aggrieved to respect its contents. He shouts out into the wilderness, his mind and heart still fresh from the wound of his loss. Loki looks up and yells aloud, "Is there no hope? No possible escape? Should I take my children to Midgard, and risk my imprisonment, to keep them from this fate?" He can hear nothing but the wind, has no solace from the tree. "Give me an answer!" he screams, and in his frustration his arms slam backwards against the trunk behind him, shaking the terrain and the tall expanse above. A single, red fruit falls from the top branches, landing in Loki's lap. While he is initially even more exasperated by this, Loki has the wherewithal to pause. His chest is rising quickly, wanting to move and run and tell everyone what he saw, when he grasps the fruit in his right hand and stares into its shining skin. Loki is breathing through his nose, and his eyes shift up to the leaves that sway so peacefully before him. He knows that nothing in this world happens by chance, that the plants are just as sentient as the animals, and he passes the fruit between his hands in much the same way he did the flask before partaking only minutes ago.
"Dare I?" Loki says to the offering, knowing he will not receive an answer. He ponders it for an uncomfortable few minutes, letting his vision sink in. If I do nothing, this is our fate, he thinks. But…but what if I fight? Do we stand even a chance? Loki opens his mouth slowly, closing his eyes, letting this thought repeat in his mind as his teeth and lips sink into the firm flesh. He only takes a single bite, letting the juice run down his chin as he rolls his tongue across the sandy flesh. Unlike the water, the fruit tastes like nothing at all, almost cleansing Loki's palette as he swallows. He feels heat come up his nose, and perceives a burning odor that makes his eyes water and tingle. Loki does not feel like the ground beneath has changed, but the tree seems to tilt backward, letting him lay flat and exposed to the sky above. He keeps his eyes shut tight, repeating in his mind, what if I fight?
Loki can now see the Don City, and men lining up at the armory. Like most of the Vanir, they are primarily much older than he, bearded and grey. Their armor is weak, only leather and thin metal sheets, but the men do not look worried. They channel their fear into their hands, forging great, heavy weapons that glow with their magic. Loki can hear the loud crack in the sky, and Gorr appears before them all, slamming into the terrain with a heaviness that nearly knocks them all off their feet. Freyr is calling out to the men, saying words that Loki cannot understand, and they all stream out of the citadel and onto the plain before Gorr, organized in tight lines. Loki can see Hriedmar and Regin standing beside each other, and the young man cranks back a strong arrow, point it at the heart of the beast in the front. They descend on Gorr, who slashes with his arm-blade, slaying many of them in just this first blow. The men do not falter, and keep pressing forth, overwhelming his sight. Gorr is grunting loudly, but not tiring, until Loki can see that his own form stands behind him, ready to strike at the fiend. He does not look himself; indeed, Loki is showing his Jotun form.
"What brings you here, monster?" Loki hisses at Gorr, who finally turns. Loki focuses on the face of his enemy, which is dripping with sweat and saliva, his smooth skin shining with it. It is truly an ugly creature, one who looks broken just as much from within as the surface. He eyes Loki strongly, and sneers backward.
Just then, Loki's vision ends, and he is awake again under the tree, holding the mysterious fruit. It is now well into the night. He sighs, heart beating quickly, not fully satisfied with this answer, but sure what it must mean.
"So I will fight," he says to no one, and Loki stands to head back to his home, where he must now bid his wife a heavy goodbye.