A/N: HELLOOOO READERS! How are you? I hope you all our having a fabulous new year. Once again readers I thank you for each of your favorites follows and of course your reviews! I treasure each and every one of them. I hope you all are pleased as I feel I was able to produce this chapter much quicker than the last one! Yay! Well this is a very crucial point in the story from here things will be happening a lot faster. Well I will allow the story to speak for it self. Happy reads and writes and God bless. Without further ado Chapter 31
With painstaking efforts, the healers managed to stabilize the all-father. They were able to cause his seizures to cease and his heart to pump once more, but the death shade was far from having passed over Asgard's king.. They moved the king from his resting chambers and into the healing chamber in the Southern Palace. There, the team of advanced healers worked feverishly and tirelessly over their monarch. They put him through a soul forge to test if he had been contaminated with any sort of virus or bacteria or pathogen, but none was apparent. On a molecular level Odin appeared to be fine. Healer Onrac and his team were able to make a liquid medication that they injected into Odin's bloodstream through intravenous tubes. The medication was supposed to keep the king steady. It had a sedating effect that would slow down Odin's body systems. It was meant to help reduce the great king's likelihood of having another heart-attack or going into cardiac arrest again. It would was also to help suppress any seizures that the king might have by keeping him in an unaltered sleeping state. They put the king in a type of waterbed filled with a turquoise fluid. The kings body was submerged in the cool turquoise water that was infused with the extract of healing crystals. Only the king's head remained out of the liquid. The water was supposed to hold Odin's body in a comfortable cocoon and keep him in stasis, temporarily.
It was a risky move. No such medications had ever been administered to King Odin during the Oversleep. Onrac was fearful that the strong concoctions would be too much for the elderly ruler's already weakened system. The drugs were supposed to slow his systems down and keep the body calm and comfortable while he slumbered and allow the natural healing effects of the Oversleep to take place, but by sedating the king while he was in Oversleep the healers also ran the risk that the all-father may never awaken.
Healer Onrac had been cautious, they were dealing with powerful substances. It was a dangerous undertaking, one that would probably be advised against by any healer of good conscience. He could imagine Mistress Eir frowning disapprovingly at the decisions he had made, but these were red-letter conditions, desperate times that called for desperate measures. Besides, it was all he knew to do for the beloved leader of Asgard and the queen had approved of it.
When they moved King Odin from his sleeping quarters and into the submersion bed within the healing halls they had to replace the shield that he lied under. The glittering gold barrier which was normally covered the king and protected the monarch from any mystical attacks that enemies of Asgard could have devised against the all-father was now a mystic blue color. It had been infused with oxygen enriched enzymes and it now served as a respirator for Odin. Leaving him vulnerable to enchantments, but it was a endangerment that had to be taken in order to ensure that the king of Asgard remained able to breathe as his heart rates and breathing rate slowed. Along with the new protective shield Odin's hands were hooked up to many devises which were taking diagnostics on his vitals and monitoring his heart rhythm and brain-waves.
Queen Frigga sat next to her husband. Her hand slipped under the oxygen shield and it rested on top of his forehead, gently. She was stymied by the appearance of him. She had seen her husband through many times of Oversleep, but she had never seen anything like this. She recalled her younger son's words the last time he'd seen his father over taken by the great sleep. In her minds eye she was able to picture it as it had been then. Loki sat opposite of her by his father's side. His posture perfect as always, back straight and shoulders aligned in a proud position that held an air of aristocracy that only a true prince could exude at a time like that. So many other would have looked haggard and wane with worry if they had had to endure all that Loki had in the past 24 hours. But he was prim and polished, poised and calm. She had been proud of him in that moment and grateful to have him by her side. With Thor banished to earth and Odin lying incapacitated in the Oversleep and threat of a new war with Jotunhiem looming over her head it was good to have one of her men with her. To others she knew that Loki would appear stoic, indifferent, callous and aloof in the presence of his father's ailment. His reserved demeanor hardly seemed to convey concern. And it was only because she knew him so well was she able to perceive how truly distressed he was over the whole predicament. It was the subtle things, the gleam in his green eye that just for a moment shimmered with moisture, the way he ran his thin finger back and forth over his top lip, the well timed drumming of his fingers on the armrest of his chair and the raspy sighs that escaped his lips every so often when he looked down at his father. Yes they were the silent, subtle things that only a mother would notice as dead giveaways. The court officials weren't there, they hadn't heard the way Loki screamed like a child for the guards to come when Odin first collapsed. They hadn't seen the fear and trepidation in his jade pupils when he'd reported to her that his father had fallen into the Odin sleep.
The fear had been apparent to her though. He was afraid of so much. Of course he was afraid for his father's life. He was afraid because he loved Odin, but he was also afraid that he would never get to finish the conversation they had started in the weapons vault. She'd tried to talk to him, try to assure him of their love for him. It was that she necessarily thought that Loki didn't believe when she said how much she loved him, she hoped she had never given him any reason to doubt her love, but he needed to hear it from Odin.
She recalled his words short and succinct, but some how they brimmed with raw emotion as he confessed, "I'll never get used to seeing him like this." Frigga was glad for the moment when her son opened up to conversation. It had allowed them to have the true conversation that Loki needed to have then about why he had been lied to. She'd answered honestly, but unfortunately he answer had not satisfied the younger prince.
Still, she now too, could declare like Loki that she could never get used to seeing Odin like this. Under the translucent blue shield Odin's skin looked ghostly white. It was so strange to behold Odin was always healthy and bronzed in color. His body was so still and rigid. She knew partly that was because of the saturation liquid, but even when she had dipped her hand down into the cold water and lifted Odin's hand so that she could caress it she could scarcely make out his pulse. As she watched his body lying flat on the water bed she noted that the rise of his chest was so slight that it seemed undetectable to the naked eye. If it wasn't for the faint beeping of one of the vital reading devices in the background she would have thought the worse. Odin's mouth hung open as if he was desperately trying to suck in all the air the blue dome which shielded him could provide. This caused his handsome lips to become dried and cracked and white. His skin on the other hand was cold and clammy and yet somehow he was drenched in perspiration on his forehead and face despite the fact that the rest of his body was completely underwater. Even still that was not what was most frightful about her husband's condition. The worse of it was Odin's eyes. Odin's blue gray eyes were wide open and staring with horror at a fixed point the ceiling. They were caught an unblinking trance as if being forced to watch something terrible and yet unable to look away. Odin would make pathetic groaning and grunting sounds, but he wasn't able to utter a word. For a split second sometimes his lips would close and he'd mash his lips together and mutter and moan, but still his eyes weren't able to look away. It was as if he was begging to, but he couldn't. His faithful queen took pity on him and her loving fingers would attempt to ever so gently close her husband's eyelids, but no sooner would she lift her delicate finger from the lid would Odin's eyelids flap back like a window shade causing the king to gaze endlessly onto the sights which vexed him so. Once more she attempted to shade him by covering his eyes with her hand. She desperate to give him any form of relief that she could, but she should have known such efforts were futile for in the Oversleep Odin could still hear and see all that transpired, even as he hand rested over of Odin's eyes she watched as a tear trickled from the corner of his wide open gray-blue eye.
"Husband," Frigga breathed in his ear as her palm softly caressed Odin's face.
"There's been no improvement since my last visit," Healer Onrac informed the queen anxiously.
Queen Frigga brought her eyes to to look up at the healer. It was the first time in about an hour that her eyes had left Odin. "That was only an hour ago," Frigga replied
"Precisely, Majesty," Onrac responded. He ran a wand like scanner over Odin's body. Then he scrutinized the scanner. "No, no improvement whatsoever," he muttered to himself more so than informing the queen. He paced about the room. His heavy footsteps echoing in the empty healing chamber. He looked as if he was looking for something, but every time his hand landed on a vial on one of the shelves or opened a drawer he would curse with quiet agitation and put what ever potion he found back where he'd found it in defeat. He let out a deep, gusty sigh, "Perhaps it is time we send for Mistress Eir, Majesty," he stated as he used the apron folded over his healers cloak to wipe his sweaty forehead and then he wrung his hands as he waited for the queen's response.
Frigga pursed her lips. Onrac looked distraught. He was perspiring profusely and his bald head was creased with wrinkles. "I doubt she would make it here in time."
"She could, my queen she could!" Onrac pleaded his eyes looking up immediately. "if we send a dispatch rider for her right now," he stated.
"Do you truly believe a dispatch rider could reach her and bring her back all this way in before Convergence takes place?"
"Please, Your Highness!" Onrac ground out he clenched his fist by his side. "We must do something! There is little I can do for the king here. I haven't the resources, nor have I the knowledge. The instruments here cannot pick up on what vexes the king so."
The golden queen of Asgard inhaled sharply, "I know," she confirmed. "Instruments cannot detect that which is not biological."
"But we ran him through the soul forge. Surely if the pathogen was born of some enchantment that would have searched it out," the healer explained.
"What has caused this is not born of enchantment, it is what he sees in the trance," the wife of Odin explained as she waved her hands before her husband unblinking blue-gray eyes. "Even Mistress Eir cannot change that Healer Onrac," the royal woman gave a watery smile in the direction of her trusted personal physician.
"What are you saying, milad?" Onrac's voiced raised with panic. He rushed to the queen's side, still wringing his all too sweaty palms. "Are you saying that the King sees our certain doom? He sees Ragnorok?"
"I will not presume to speak of that which my husband sees," Frigga announced stoically. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As a child she had been blessed with a gift of foresight. Her family said she had been blessed, but she knew not whether it was a gift or a curse.. Some of the visions were pleasant, she'd seen times of peace and harmony, she'd seen the end results of a war that had not yet taken place, she'd seen herself seated with a handsome young man in the palace, but as a child she'd not known whom she'd been seeing. But not all of her visions were of peace and prosperity and marriages and happy futures, some had been dreadful. She had had terrible glimpses of Ragnorok. Things that had woken her from her sleep and sent her screaming. Visions of fire and ash, but no great details had been revealed to her and she was grateful for that and she would speak not of them. She never spoke her visions to anyone, she merely weaved them into elaborate tapestries. By the time she was in the prime of her adolescence most of her visions had ceased. She sent her tapestries to the Norns. She sent them off to the Norns, let the fates worry about the future. She could not imagine what Odin saw, but she knew how her visions had effected her what Odin saw must have been utter calamity for him to have such a response. At least she had been able to dismiss her visions. They stopped when she reached human age of 16 and it wasn't ad if tales of the prophecies of Ragnorok weren't well known amongst the populace, she sometimes told herself that what she had seen wasn't a vision at all, but merely a nightmare concieved from the scary stories about Ragnorok that her siblings would tell around the hearth when their parents went to sleep. She had been able to send her tapestries off and in that way she'd been able to ship away her visions and give them to another, but what of Odin he had no one to cast his burdens upon. He bore the weight of what he saw alone.
"I fear it does not bode well"
Onrac stiffened, "Please, my lady, you must get word to Mistress Eir, she has tended to the all-father in this state before and she knows so much more about the Oversleep than I," Onrac expressed as his breathing hitched.
"If I know the king, and I believe I do, he would not want to pull Eir away from the people, to save himself," she explained to Onrac. "Odin cares so greatly for all the lives in Asgard. He'd want her to help heal as many as she could."
Onrac shook his head vigorously, "That may be majesty, but if the king dies then I fear the people are already doomed. Asgard needs her king at a time like this. Convergence is around the corner and Ragnorok could be at the doorstep!" Onrac announced and their was a distinctly shrill tone in his voice denoting his fright. "Asgard cannot afford to be without her king. It is our king who is supposed to lead the Einherjar in the great battle against the enemy," the healer rambled as he thought of the tales he had learned about Ragnorok. "Please, your highness, I could not bear to know that something happened to cause the king's condition to be worse under my watch," Healer Onrac sunk to his knees and bowed before the queen. His hands clutching at her long nightgown. "Oh please, your Majesty don't make me bear such a weight upon my heart," he expressed as he pounded at his chest and started to sob. "As a healer it is my sworn oath to do good and no harm and to serve in the best interest of my patients," he continued to snivel. His brown eyes looked up at her beautiful blue ones. He couldn't hold the queen's gaze. She didn't condemn him, but he was consumed with guilt. The queen should have chosen Mistress Eir to accompany her on the journey. He could have stayed behind in Asgard and tended to the injured in the infirmary. The queen had placed to much faith in him and now he was failing her. He was failing all of Asgard and possible all of the realms. He shook his head, "Oh please!" he cried once more. "It is best practice that we send for Mistress Eir," he tried to explain once more. "I don't want to be responsible...I...I don't want to be the one who..." he started to lament. "Who is responsible for Asgard's demise," the healer wailed.
"I assure you Onrac, even Eir herself could do no more for him now," Frigga stated kindly as she placed a gracious hand on top of the medicine man's bald head. She patted it gently and caressed it with the same tenderness that she would have given Thor or Loki had they come to her with one of their troubles, although Healer Onrac was of age to be her brother rather than one of her sons. She could feel him trembling beneath the weight of her hand.
"My queen, statements such as those make it seem as if you expect the king to be lost to us," Onrac confessed as he looked up at the female ruler with watery eyes. The gravity of the situation was more than he was prepared to handle. How would he be able to face his own wife and children or any of the people of Asgard if Ragnorok befell them. The queen could say what she would like, but he would still bear the responsibility for not saving the king in his darkest hours. He didn't want to carry such a burden. Perhaps that was cowardice, he'd rather call for Eir and remove himself from responsibility than take the blame. "Don't say such things, milady," he begged still looking up at her from his knees. Queen Frigga placed her hand upon the chief healers shoulder. Her eyes were kind, but weary, she said nothing, but looked at him in a way that conveyed the utmost understanding. You and your staff have worked tirelessly healer Onrac, you must rest," she advised.
"Queen Frigga, absolutely not," he refuted. "I will tend to King Odin. It is you who needs rest ,your majesty, you are all Asgard has now," he countered. "Prince Thor is missing and The all-father is in the Oversleep..." he began to explain.
Queen Frigga held up her hand, "Please, I wish a moment alone with him," she stated more firmly. Frigga did not need the healer to remind her of her duty to Asgard, she never forgot it. It was always in the forefront of her mind. "I will call for you at once if anything changes in my husband's condition," the blonde haired, female monarch informed the bald headed healer.
Healer Onrac blinked his brown eyes several times as he stared up at the queen of Asgard. Her royal highness was never mean, often times she was congenial toward the people that it scarcely seemed like one was addressing a queen, but there were times when she spoke with the full authority of her station and she made it known that her word was not to be questioned. This was one of those moments. Onrac dare not offer another word of protest. Slowly, he rose from his humbled position, kneeling at Frigga's feet and stood up. "Very well, you majesty," he stated timidly, tentatively. "As you wish," he added as he gave a respectful bow to the wife of Odin.
Frigga inclined her head toward him as she dismissed him from her presence. Onrac proceeded to make his way to the door ready to exit. He frozen in his tracks, but kept his back to the queen. "Your majesty, if I may make one request...If you will not send for Mistress Eir will you at least inform the council of what has happened?"
"That is wisdom, Healer Onrac, go and do just that," the queen agreed. "Send word to Lord Algrim and the Council, tell them of how the king fares and advise them that now is the time to prepare whatever troops we have left and all the able bodied men and women of Asgard to stand and fight," she ordered.
Onrac turned to her and bowed to her will. With that, she heard Onrac's boots stomp against the marble as he exited. Queen Frigga sat silently with her husband for a few minutes. She pressed her hand to his forehead as if trying to absorb some of his distress, but her efforts were futile. The only sounds between them were the echoing beeps of the machines and Odin's labored breathing.
"Odin," Frigga finally uttered and her voice wavered as she did so. "Can you still hear me, my love?' she asked as the back of her hand smoothed his brow. "I was told you could still see and hear during the Oversleep, but I have never seen you like this," she confessed to him as she let out a pent up sigh. Her hands strayed from trying to smooth out the furrows on his forehead to waving in front of his petrified unblinking, gray-blue eyes. She heaved a disappointed breath finding that her husband did not even bat one stubby gray eyelash at her gesture.
"I...I...don't know what it is that you see," she started once more. Her breath hitched. "I...I...I am not sure I even want to know," she admitted. "But I do," she contradicted herself and fixed her face firm and straightened her shoulders. "I am your queen, your wife, your helpmeet," she stated smiling down fondly at Odin. She swiped her delicate hands over her eyes and tried to wipe away the tears, but she couldn't catch them all and some shameless particles of water managed to trickle from the queen's lovely sapphire blue orbs. "I was meant to bear some of your burdens," she tried to explain. "When I married you I pledged myself to you and your crown. I pledged myself not just to the glory of it, but to the immense weight of it," she explained. "Your load is my heavy now,, my love," she expressed tenderly. Her sea blue eyes glistened with tears, "But you don't have to carry that weight alone," she whispered lovingly to him. She dug her hand into the watery substance below so that she could grab his hand. She squeezed it tight although she did not feel him return the clasp. Nonetheless she squeezed tighter as if she intended to will the king to respond to her touch. "
I too, have seen things," she murmured in his ear. "I have seen sights that I wish no one else to see," she muttered. "I have seen things regarding this terrible time we now face," she informed Odin. "I...I..I" she hesitated. "I never spoke of it to anyone," she admitted. "I'm sorry," she said as she gently traced circles on his cheek. "I would never keep secrets from you, but...what I saw...it was so long ago," she began to explain. "I was little more than a child when the visions started to come upon me and it was so horrible, so awful...I thought that if I didn't say it...if I kept it to myself it wouldn't come true and even if it did that it wouldn't happen during our lifetime' Frigga gave a half-hearted smile and shrugged her shoulders. She shook heard and shook the smile off of her lips and deep grimace replacing the more pleasant expression. "I wanted to forget, I wanted to make it disappear, but I think that we've learned that keeping things secret and keeping things to ourselves doesn't make them better...it doesn't make the truth go away...it only makes it all the more painful when it comes forth," she stated softly as she planted a kiss on Odin's temple. The queen of Asgard inhaled sharply, "So I will tell you what I saw," she stated before she revealed all she knew about Ragnorok. She told Odin of the fire and ash and of the crumbling buildings and the lightening storms that raged through the countryside and destroyed ever good crop and of the people crying, screaming and running frantically through the streets begging for a salvation that never came. Queen Frigga told the king of the toppled buildings and a once vast empire that was left dilapidated and in ruins like something from a history book. She told him of a darkness so thick that it was nigh impenetrable by light. Even if one held a torch they could scarcely make out their own hand in front of their face. She shuddered as she relived the horror of her visions once more. She spoke of the monsters that seemed to prey upon the few people who had survived the apocalypse.'That is all I know, all I have had the terrible privilege of seeing," her voice shook as the final memories faded from her mind. Water cascaded down the golden queen's rosy cheeks. The confession had been horrifying and yet liberating all at once. It was horrible to revisit the monstrous visions that had occurred in her girlhood. They were so awful, they made her stomach hurt and heart ache. She wanted to scream out, but she needed to remain strong for her husband's sake if not for her kingdoms. Odin needed to know that if what he saw was worse she could handle that too. Yet, hideous as the images were it felt good to say them for once. She lovingly stroked his face and showered him with tender and affectionate kisses. "Now," she whispered her face leaning just above his. Her warm breath hovered over his sweaty skin as she spoke, "You tell me what you see," she encouraged him, She wiped the tears away from her eyes and soft cheeks and smiled at him prompting him to speak. The queen of Asgard waited, but the king remained unaltered his horror-struck eyes could not break their gaze upon the spot on the ceiling and his gaping mouth could not make any intelligible sound. Frigga turned away and covered her face in her palms she could no longer stand the sight of him in such distress. She let new tears flow for a moment. Odin's breathing was so shallow, his pulse so faint, his skin so pale, nearly translucent.
"Oh Odin," she cried, "tell me! Tell me! Please!" she begged him. "Tell me so that some of this can be lifted off of you. Put it on me!" she ordered as she thumped at her own chest. "Put it on me! Let me be strong, so that you may be at ease and return to me," she went on sobbing. "Please. Please!" she whimpered. Her gentle and earnest pleas seemed to fall upon deaf ears as the king remained unaltered. Queen Frigga's face crumpled as she looked down upon her husband. "I can bear it," she promised him. "I've born it before," Frigga nodded. "Put it on me so that you may rise wake from your dreams and keep these visions from coming to pass," she pleaded desperately.
As liquid streamed down her face Frigga laid her head upon the film like over of the water bed which Odin's lower body was submerged in. Her hands played in his thinning white hairs and in his thick grey beard as she wept upon him. After a moment she collected herself and although she was trembling she was able to scoot her head up so that the crown of her head was tucked securely under Odin's chin. That was the position she'd always felt most comfortable sleeping in. She liked to lie in bed with him with her body draped across his strong chest and her head tucked under his chin, her ear pressed toward his chest so that she could hear his sturdy heartbeat , he'd wrap her in his muscular arms and his hands which were scarred and callous would ever so gingerly play in her unbound girls. Odin's arms were not able to hold her now, but still she'd lie in this position. "Concentrate on my voice," she entreated him her hands never ceasing their loving caress of his face. 'I do not know what you see," she spoke once more. "But that is only because you won't say," she reminded him. Despite the tears washing down her face she let out a chuckle, "You are a very stubborn and prideful man Odin Borson. You are too proud and too stubborn for your own good," she chided him gently, "I love you for it anyway' the queen reminded the king. "I have seen things, Odin," she went on, "but in all that I have seen I never stopped believing that this day would not come and that Ragnorok could pass over us. I have never believed that Ragnorok was written in stone and that there was no escape from it. I believe that fate can be changed. I believe...I believe" Frigga said her breathes getting more raspy as tiredness loomed over her. 'I will not let go of that belief until it is too late," she told him. "I don't want you to let go of it either," she admonished. Our sons are still out there, they are still fighting to save us...all of us. They are our hope. We must put our hope in them now and not relinquish it until it is too late," she explained. "I will believe in that until Convergence has come to pass and I will believe enough for the both of us," Queen Frigga stated as she closed her eyes and felt herself drifting.
Odin's lips began to quiver, he slowly worked him jaw, "Th-th-thor," the king stammered. "My-my son," he croaked. "No!" he moaned in his sleep as he started to thrash.
Thor awoke to find his body tethered to a wall held by an inky, slimy rope like substance. Bleary, blue eyes batted back to coherence as they took in the dissimilar surroundings. It to him a few minutes to adjust his eyes to the poorly lit conditions, but after a few minutes of blinking his vision cleared and he was able to make out more of what was around him. The room was dark. Nearly pitch black besides for the dismal flickering burgundy color pulse lights that ran through the sides of the walls and the overhead fixture of the room. The pulse lights beat off and on and the coursed through the vein-like carvings on the tar-black walls. The little light that the pulses did give was momentary, sudden and erratic and it made Thor's eyes water as he tried to use the faint light to assess his surroundings.
The chamber was dark and dank, dreary and damp. Yet it was stifling and almost in insufferably humid. The conditions caused Prince Thor's breathing to be labored. Squinting, in the dim light Thor was able to observe the horrid conditions that he was finding himself in. His arms were bound and so were his wrist. His extremities were stretched in a star pose and his body was stuck and tangled on a web in the hollow brig of the Dark-Elf ship. These were not the normal binds made of iron or brass, they were not even electro-magnetic, rather it was as if he was being held, by some inky like ooze. The slimy, cold nearly metallic material stretched over his body and clung to his flesh like a spider web. It's color much like that of the Aether a deeper, deadly red that was also infused with black. Thor could feel that the web like substance much like the Aether was able to change shape, it would grow tighter on him the moment he would flinch or wriggle. It would slither up around him so that it was was able to cover more of his limbs. It started out just being strapped around his wrist but it inched its way from his wrist and moved to slipping over his thumb and coating the center of his palm. It went from simply binding his ankle to as he flexed his foot encasing his whole boot in its slimy web.
The Aesir prince felt a momentary panic as he watched him hands and feet slowly becoming engulfed by the substance. He calmed himself long enough to look for an escape. Prince Thor was able to deduce that he was being contained in the brig of Malekith's dark vessel. The brig of the ship had no doors or windows that he could make out. There must have been some door though, they had to have put him in their somehow he rationalized. He looked down, the dark brig appeared to be bottomless. It had to have a bottom. He'd seen Malekith ship and new it had a base, but it seemed as if he was dangling over a cavern. Trapped.
A son of Odin was never trapped. Thor groaned as he tried to stretch and move his limbs. The slimy web didn't seem to be that strong. It seemed like something that with a mere flex of his arms he could have simply rid himself of, but as he tried to do so he found that the binds did not budge and he remained stuck and grew even tighter. The constricted his muscles, pressing on them and holding the hostage as the sickening red web ebbed and flowed and stretched over more of Thor's body soon his whole hand was covered in the web.
The feeling of weakness and vulnerability smothered him as much as the web itself, it swept over him all at once as he tried to pull himself free of the web he'd been entangled in on board Malekith's flag ship. He pulled and twisted and reached and groped and fought and struggled, he groaned and grit his teeth as he tried with all his might to pry himself from the stick, slimy vines that he was wrapped in, but it was all to no avail. Thor was once again reminded of the splitting headache that he had. From the crown of his forehead to the base of his skull the who head throbbed. No doubt the pain was from the brutal bludgeoning that he'd received at the hands of the Dark-Elf soldiers. On Loki's orders. Thor bit his lip. The last thing that he remembered was Loki's green cape ever so elegantly fluttering as he walked away while those white-faced monsters bound and gagged him and then whacked him on the head.
The son of Odin screamed out in rage and frustration. His thunderous voice reverberated off the walls of the hollow metallic brig. It caused the pulsing lights to flash rapidly as if an alarm had been set off. Thor froze. He expected for an army of Dark-Elves to come rushing in an accost him. The blonde-haired prince waited with baited breath for the fiends to enter his cell, but they didn't. He half way wanted them to, if they came perhaps he could find someway to escape. Thor yelled again. The burgundy lights responded with their flashing, but it did not elicit the response from the guards that Prince Thor hoped for.
It was useless. No matter how loudly the prince hollered the guards did emmerge to check on him. It was obvious, that the guards weren't concerned about him. Why should they be? He posed no threat to them now. He was a powerless prisoner contained in what seemed to be an impenetrable cell. He couldn't even move and every violent attempt Thor made to free himself had only caused his body to ache abominably and his head to swirl and his stomach to flip and flop leaving him to face fresh wave a nausea. Not to mention that the more he struggled the more and more that the inky, sticky Aether web oozed over his body and covered more and more of his limbs. He was already covered up to his knees and elbows in the tar. His body sagged listlessly in the web. He'd exhausted himself trying to fight the substance. He panted as he struggled to catch his breath. He felt like a helpless little fly caught in a wretched web. His sighed and shuddered as he tried to fight off the nauseous feeling that had over taken him. He swallowed hard, but he couldn't stave off the way his stomach churned and boiled with in him. Thor spewed forth the contents of his empty stomach all about the web and on himself as he began to tremble.
In pain, and exhaustion the blue eyed prince leaned into the slime slick wall that the Dark-Elves had fettered him to and his weight fall into it. His heavy, muscular body sagged listlessly as he dangled from the web-like Aether ooze like a plucked and washed prized goose dangling from a butcher shop window. The prince's head lulled back and his gorgeous blue eyes rolled back in his head. He'd never felt so weak in all his life. Even when his father had stripped him of his powers and sent him spiraling to Midgard he hadn't felt so frail and defenseless. Even as a youngster he couldn't recall feeling so completely vulnerable and exposed.
As he hung alone in the empty brig he squinted his eyes and in the dim light of the pulses he could scarcely make out other forms. The lights ran around the bodies and he was able to note that they were skeletons. The bones were now brown, nearly black from the centuries they'd been left to decay in the forgotten hollow of the ship.
Thor cringed and bit his lip. Was that to be his fate? The last great stand of the Mighty Thor Odinson? His final hours would be in this cell? He growled. He didn't even have the honor and dignity of dying in the blaze and glory of a heated battle. He wouldn't even have the privilege of dying with his comrades. No his end would come in this forgotten, dark brig. He would be left to rot, to waste away to nothingness with only the memory of his failure as company.
As he breathed, his nostrils were soon filled with the putrid smell of the bile he had wretched on . himself. Gravity pulled on the throw-up and it slid down from Thor's chest to his pants and into his bootsThe smell was sickening and the feeling of the bile soaking into his boots was disgusting, but Thor was powerless to do anything, but lay in his own filth.
Infuriated by his own weakness, Thor closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the events that had led him to this most precarious predicament. Then he recalled it all in one brilliant flash. It struck him like a magic lightening bolt from Mjolnir. Jane and the Aether, the attack on Asgard, the battle of Svartalfheim, his quest for Loki and his drinking of the potion that Malekith had offered him to save his brother's life.
And now this. He'd left his men, left Jane and journeyed across this forsaken land in order to save Loki. He'd foolishly thought Loki must have been in trouble, that somehow he'd been captured or tortured or he was hurt and injured out in the formidable black sand deserts of he'd gone, gone into the wasteland to search for him. He'd gone against all his better judgements and the advice of his own friends to rescue Loki. He'd known it was a risk, Convergence was had only been two days away, but his brother's life had been worth it. Loki had helped them get as far as they had gotten and he was determined that Loki deserved a fighting chance to live if Convergence passed them by without awakening Ragnorok. When he arrived at the stronghold and was captured by Malekiths guards and Malekith showed him Loki strapped to the electric torture device his heart wretch and panic gripped him in his chest. Hearing Loki's pitiful screams, seeing him crying and begging for mercy, watching every time the guards would fire up the machine and send an electric shock into Loki's frail body made him want to hurl. Loki had already been through so much. He knew his brother had suffered brutally at the hands of that mad titan, Thanos although he didn't know all the details of the torment that the scoundrel had inflicted upon him. It hurt worse to know that so much of the pain and suffering that Loki had been through had been at the hands of the Asgardians. In truth it had been at the hands of the people that Loki once loved and trusted. His father had dealt so harshly with Loki and even he felt that somehow he was resoonsible for the horrors Loki had faced. He should have intervened more. He couldn't let anymore anguish befall his little brother, not when he had the power to stop it.
So when Malekith offered him the chance to save his brother's life he was more than willing to do anything to spare him. Even give up the hammer, the weapon that would be necessary to defeat Malekith and his hoarde and stop them from unleashing the wrath of the Aether and covering the realms in Darkness. And he'd done it, he'd ever so willingly surrendered his prized possession as a trade in for his brother's life. He'd drunk the potion and immediately as the disgusting tonic hit his tongue he felt his strength being sapped from him. He felt his connection with the powers of wind and rain, lightening and thunder shrivel up and die. It had been taken from him. Sucked away like air out of a vacuum and filling him with emptiness. It was different from when father took the hammer from him and sent him to Midgard. Then he'd physically felt no different. It was only when he tried to lift the hammer that he realized something was awry. He could feel his strength, but he couldn't harness it, but this...this was much worse. He had no strength to harness. He was like a rag wrung dry, limp and useless cast aside. He felt like a ripe fruit picked and squeezed. All the juices had been forced out of him. He was a piece of wheat shafted and sifted in the mill. He'd been ground up and sifted through and now all that was left of his was a hollow, empty husk.
Loki had used him...betrayed him...sacrificed him. He'd done it all so easily. He'd baited him like a fish drawn to a lure and then so as easily led him like a lamb to the slaughter and he'd so naively, so trustingly walked right into it. Inwardly, Thor kicked himself. He'd surrendered his own powers and forfeited Mjolnir in an attempt to save his brother and...and...and all along Loki had simply been plotting his demise. Thor twisted and bit deep into his lip. He had plotted all of their demises. He'd plotted the demise of all of Asgard and all of the Nine Realms. Had Loki even had a second thought about the betrayal? Had he had any qualm about what he was doing? Thor doubted it. Loki smiled in his face. Sick, maniacal grin stretching across porcelain skin as he collapsed to the ground. Why? "Why, Loki? Why?" Thor muttered to himself in desperation. No answer came to his mind. He could never have imagined this. No matter what Loki had done in his heart of hearts Thor had never truly abandoned the hope that there was still good inside of him. He had wanted to believe that his brother still existed somewhere deep beneath the shell of the mad man who had tried to conquer the human race. He just knew that that wasn't really Loki, it couldn't have been. Surely, the brother he'd known and loved for more than a millennium couldn't have just up and vanished so quickly. He always thought there was still some semblance of the rational, intelligent, peaceful boy he'd grown up with. That Loki would have been incapable of such treachery. It would have been unfathomable for that Loki to do something that would cause so much innocent blood to be shed.
Crown Prince Thor squeezed his eyes shut as the searing pain of his body being bereft of the power of Mjolnir and guilt loomed over him like a quilt that was intended to suffocate him. "LOKI!" Thor bellowed. His voice echoing off of the empty metallic walls of the ships prison cell. The once prince of Asgard's name bounced and reverberated off the cell walls mockingly. It taunted Thor as if Loki was laughing at his stupidity in believing in him. Sometimes when they were boys he and Loki would often tease each other playing a common game where one kept repeating what the other said. Thor would usually start it just to be a best because it annoyed Loki so, but Loki was better at it than Thor was. Loki could keep it up for hours. He'd repeat everything Thor said until eventually Thor would just run away with his ears covered. Or he'd punch Loki in the face. The latter had been more frequent at first, but Loki would run and tell their mother and she'd give him quite a scolding for it so eventually he learned better. He'd just stop talking. Which is what he realized Loki wanted all along. But bound as he was the Asgardian prince didn't even have the ability to cover his ears and run away to keep from hearing his brothers name ring out emptily in his ears. "LOKI!" Thor hollered once more. His voice even more pitiful and ragged than before. His throat hurt from the terrible cry, but once more only his own voice replied.
He so wanted to imagine Loki replying, appearing, rushing to him and releasing him from the sticky, inky, fetters and telling him of a carefully devised plan than he had. He almost envisioned it. His brilliant, sneaky, mystical little brother appearing before him in a puff of smoke a smug look of his thin lips and bright green eyes rolls in the back of his head. "Thor, you dolt!" he's chide him as he'd start to ever so carefully tip-toe across the vines to reach him in the center. "Do you want to alert Malekith and his horde that I am in here? Be quiet or this escape attempt will never work!" he'd instruct him all the while his nimble fingers would use his daggers to saw through the slippery, black coils that had him pinned to the web.
Such imaginations nearly made Thor smile, he opened his dazzling sapphire blue eyes and although he was ashamed to admit it he somehow half expected Loki to be there doing just as he had imagined. Thor grimaced at his naivete once more. He cursed himself for his own stupidity. Such blind faith in Loki is what had landed him in this mess. Thor violently began to buck and thrash and did everything to wiggle himself free of the entrapment that the Dark-Elves had placed him in. The ooze made light of his valiant efforts. It merely mocked him, for every defiant gesture and attempt he gave to break free it only confined him all the more. Thore felt the Aether web surge and flow over his elbows and on to his forearm where it encased his tarry web.
After a few moments the weakened prince only found himself winded and exhausted and even more hopelessly entangled in the onyx vines than before. "Why brother? Why?" Thor couldn't help, but question as he lied trapped, bound and entwined in the darkness. He knew that Loki still held bitterness against him and his father, he wasn't so dull as to think that Loki's agreement to come with him to the Dark-World had simply caused such feelings to instantly vanish. No, he had realized that Loki's presence on the quest was merely a means to an end. Loki had said he was there to avenge Dagmar and Thor didn't doubt that, but he hadn't thought that Loki's anger and bitterness toward him would be something that would have consumed him to the point where he was willing to unleash Ragnorok just to put an end to him. He could never have surmised that the hate and malice which festered inside of Loki was so powerful that Loki would allow for it to roil over and spill out in this sick act of vengeance and destroy everything and everyone in his path. It was only at that moment that Thor was able to conclude what others had been trying to tell him all along. Loki was gone. Dead. Never to return.
Loki had sentenced them all to 1000 years of Darkness and slavery and slaughter and he'd handed Loki the seal to sign such a sentence. Thor let his head fall forward in defeat. His chin resting on his vomit covered chest and the prince hadn't even the strength nor the will to raise him head. He deserved it. He deserved to lay there in his own vile mess. He deserved to hang their in the darkness breathing in the stench of his own vomit tangled in webs like a puny fly awaiting the kill by a venomous spider. He was just responsible as responsible as Loki, maybe even more so. He'd been warned and even when he'd been warned he'd not heeded the wisdom of the warnings and now he'd left all to suffer and pay the price.
It had been centuries before now, so many centuries ago he and Loki had been more boys than men then. It had been when they'd went to retrieve their helmets from the Temple of Tribute in Nornheim. It had been such a perilous journey to get there, but the true dangers had lied within the sacred structure. He'd been so confident, arrogant. He so thought that he'd be able to conquer whatever test awaited him. He simply thought it be a feat of strength. He thought there would be some beast for him to slay, some monster to be vanquished, a foe to fight. But it wasn't what he expected. When he'd entered the temple desperately searching for his crown he'd been confronted with an apparition of his future self. The vision was every inch the king he'd always dreamed he'd be: Tall, stately, regal from head to toe, cloaked in a flowing red cape with lions fur around the collar, he wore metal of the most gleaming, sterling silver that Thor had ever seen. His helmet of eagles wings shone like the sun. The figure was wise, capable, handsome as ever, but he could see the scars of battle on him, the scars were not simply physical. His older self had a more severe face than his. It wasn't that this older him seemed mean or stoic, but hardened. The great king before him removed his helmet and Thor saw how his own luscious golden locks would one day turn gray with age. He removed the helmet and started to present it to Thor , but before he could give Thor his desired prize he warned him that he had to be tested. The test was so simple. Just series of questions all with easy answers. They were inquiries about his loyalty and love for Asgard and its people. He loved Asgard with all his heart. The figure asked him would he fight for Asgard. He said yes. The vision asked him would he sacrifice himself for the good of Asgard, without hesitation he declared that he would give his life fore Asgard. The other self nodded seemingly pleased with the answers. He started to present Prince Thor with the helmet. Thor eagerly reached out to accept it, but just as his calloused fingers were about to touch it, the older self stopped short and tucked the helmet under his arm. He arched his gray eye brows and looked sternly at the son of Odin, "Would you sacrifice another?"
It had been a troubling question then. The word sacrifice implied something that would be personally painful. It wasn't simply killing an enemy, killing an enemy wasn't a sacrifice it was usually necessary and sometimes even a welcomed victory. But this... it was something far more intimate than that. He'd just become a captain of 100 men. He cared about all the men in his battalion, many of whom were older than he was who had wives and children and hobbies and talents. He couldn't imagine casting one of them aside like they were nothing. But reluctant as he was he had agreed that if he had to sacrifice just one man for the good of the realm than it would be worth it. Wouldn't it? He thought it would be what his father would want, what Asgard would want, what the Norns would surely expect of him. He remembered his older self nodding, an air of disbelief was held in his blue eyes and written on the wrinkles and creases around his mouth. At that point. His older self said nothing, he merely gesture with his hand and allowed the vision to play he needed to say was one simple word. "Yes", that was all that needed to be uttered from his lips in ordered from him to prove his worthiness to the Norns and to receive his crown, but when he saw the adversary he couldn't make such a declaration.
That had been long ago, so long ago that the crown prince had nearly forgotten it, but not so long ago that he couldn't recall it. He'd pushed it to the back of his mind for sometime it been all, but forgotten up until oh so very recently, but it came to him like a flood. It overwhelmed his senses and every fiber of his being as the terrible memory played before him. He could see the giant flames lapping up from the palace spires. He could hear the anguished wails of women and children as he watched them run for their lives in horror. He could see his feet stepping through puddles of blood that filled the street like a river. He could smell the pungent order of dead flesh let to rot. He could taste the thick gun smoke. He could feel the ash stinging his eyes and the hot acid rain burning his skin as it fell from the heavens. The skies so dark that it appeared to be night. He could hear the roll of distant thunder as the deadly skies crackled with vibrant red lightening. The city ravaged and decimated beyond repair. Ever beautiful edifice, every gorgeous temple, ever stately home was left in a crumbling ruin. He watched as soldiers cloaked in dark armor marched through the streets and gathered up the Aesir people, pulling them by their hair and binding them with fetters of iron. How could this be? Surely this tortured place was a vision of the cursed souls condemned to Helheim and not the golden realm that was his home. Thor could feel once again his pulse quicken and his heart rate increase, his whole body shaking with an overpowering anger and rage. He felt sick. He stumbled through the vision on every hands his eyes were assaulted with battery as he found the broken bodies of his friends and loved ones lying in the wake of this destruction. Their forms lay mangled in their own pools of red blood. The crimson liquid still warm and bubbling. The kills were fresh, brutal and merciless. All that he loved, everyone he loved...gone. A vehemence rose up inside him the likes of which the young prince had never felt before that time and which he was never sure he ever felt again. Fury of a thousand Berserk warriors of old. He was ready to unleash it. He roared to the heavens as he gathered his strength ready to lash out 100 fold upon the villain that had done this wicked thing.
He remembered his wild blue eyes looking, searching frantically over the city as he took to flying. He scoured the land to find the perpetrator of such an unspeakable crime. As he soared he looked around and in the center of the anarchy he saw a form, twisting and writhing with devilish laughter, he heard the sick, manic cackle riding through the air. He saw the horned head of the creature that had done this abomination and he wanted to enact death upon the beast. His eyes only saw red as he swooped down ready to crush the savage with the might of Mjolnir. "FOR ASGARD!" Thor heard himself cry through the tears of grief and horror as he swung his hammer. But as he drew closer to the enemy he was astonished by what he saw. This was no frigid Jotun monarch, no bloodless, white-faced Dark-Elf or hideous legion of trolls that had orchestrated this desolation, but rather a thin, regal, clean-shaven, albeit, wild green-eyed Aesir. Thor halted, he couldn't believe his eyes. "L-l-loki?" he stammered in disbelief.
"What trickery is this?" Thor demanded angrily at his older self
"It is not a trick, Odinson," the vision responded
"Then what is it?" Thor shot back angrily.
"it is what will be," the king foretold.
"No, no, no," Thor protested weakly, he shook his head and started laughing at how ridiculous the notion of such a thing ever taking place was. "Loki would never...Loki could never..."
"if he did?" the vision pressed.
"IT WOULD HAPPEN!" Thor thundered.
"You said you wouldn't think twice about killing an enemy of Asgard," the old king reminded him. Thor wished he'd never uttered those words before the vision.
"Loki isn't an enemy of Asgard."
"You don't call this person an enemy?" the vision of his older self demanded. "Moments ago they were a creature worthy of death for their crimes! What has changed?"
'But Loki..." Thor faltered feeling unsure of any answer that he could give, "This is impossible!"
'if it happened would you defend Asgard?" the gray-haired king asked his voice was devoid of any emotion or remorse.
Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. He nodded at first then he finally found his voice and managed to utter a barely audible, "yes."
"At any cost?"
"What are you asking of me?" Thor looked back at the vision of himself with horror in his eye. "What is it that you want me to do?"
"I'm asking you what you would be willing to do to save Asgard," King Thor replied.
"I'd do anything to save Asgard," Thor answered but his voice was shaking.
"Then I ask you again, would you kill this man?"
"I couldn't kill my brother..." Thor confessed shaking his head.
"For the good of Asgard...the good of the Nine Realms?" the vision posed with some urgency.
"This would never really happen right?" Thor questioned back, "This is merely a hypothetical situation is it not?"
'it is a test! And you must answer the question at hand as they are not as you hope for them to be?" the vision declared.
"I..." Prince Thor's voice got caught in his throat. "Please don't ask this of me?" he begged the vision as he pressed his palms to cover his face.
"The Norns ask it of you, your ancestors will require it of you, the people of Asgard will expect it of you, your fallen friends will want it from you and your deceased parents will..."
"Enough! Please!" Thor gasped as he covered his ears with his hands he could bear to hear no more of this madness. "No," he whispered his deep baritone voice trembling, "I couldn't kill Loki, he's my brother...my best friend...I"
"if he was dangerous? If he was a threat?"
"I couldn't" Thor admitted weakly.
With frustration the brow of the king knit together his voice began to rumble, "All of Asgard would be looking to you as their king. You would have been entrusted with their well being. You would be expected to defend them with all your might and strength. You swore you would protect them!" The king pointed an accusatory finger at the prince.
"I swore I would protect my brother as well," Thor uttered defiantly from his his knees.
'if he betrayed the bond! If he couldn't be trusted?" the king continued to demand.
"I'd lock him up for 1000 years! I'd banish him," Thor offered hopefully looking up.
With disappointment his older self shook its head. "Those punishments wouldn't be strong enough," he cautioned.
"I couldn't kill him," Thor responded declaratively.
"That is weakness!" the vision scolded harshly. "A king must be strong enough to do what is right for his people no matter how hard it is!" the king berated him. Thor flinched under the weight of the heavy handed criticism. "A king must be stronger than his foolish sentiments!" the vision spat.
"I'm sorry," was the eldest son of Odin's final answer.
Thor looked up and saw lightening flickering in the thundering kings sky blue eyes. "THEN YOU ARE UNWORTHY!" he yelled.
Thor wriggled uncomfortably in the confines of his Aether chains as old memories overtook him. His involuntary twitching only caused the dark, sticky, tar-like vines to constrict his movements even more. His whole leg was soon covered by filthy red and black goo.
As he looked down at his helpless state he once again heard the king's voice booming in his ear, "THEN YOU ARE UNWORTHY!" it proclaimed.
Indeed. Prince Thor knew he had proven himself unworthy just as the hallucination of his older self had condemned. Guilt overtook Thor and gripped him by the throat. Thor began to feel like he couldn't breathe and he wondered if such feelings were derived from his own shame or from the way the slimy binds continued crawl upward and wrap around his torso. How could he have allowed this to happen? Thor closed his eyes once more stiving off tears that longed to flow from his sapphire blue orbs. Even when he'd seen what Loki would do and still he'd be unable to say that he would end Loki if he became like this. Even when he'd been shown the horrible, twisted savage that Loki would become he'd been able to comes to grips with the reality. He'd denied, denied, denied. He'd been given a premonition of the future and he'd simply ignored it. Like a fool he'd been too blind to heed that which was so blatantly set before him. He was a fool and now all of Asgard played the price for his foolhardy ways.. He'd caught glimpses of it all along, but still he'd been unable to bring himself to make the decisions that needed to be made to save Asgard in that moment. He'd been ashamed then, maybe it was simply weakness that kept him from doing what needed to be done.
After he'd been granted the vision in the Temple of Tribute he tried to console himself by telling him that the images he saw were merely hallucinations. Nightmares and nothing convinced himself that it was nothing more than a fevered dream. He'd been sick when he'd returned to Asgard after they came from the temple. It must have been that the horrific images he'd seen were just delusions of his fevered mind. After all, Loki had come back for him! Surely, the prophecies had been wrong; what he had seen couldn't have been an accurate prediction of the future. That was most assuredly impossioble. It wasn't as if it was a prophecy, an inescapable destiny. It was simply a worse case scenario designed to test him. Even though he'd failed the he thought little of it after that day. It wasn't real and he figured he shouldn't be preoccupied by things that would never be.
Once his older self had accused him of being unworthy of the helmet conditioned for him by his father the cieling of the temple fell in and the bottom of the alabaster floor fell out from underneath him. In a surge of panic he remembered the warning that the little temple priestess had given to him, he wouldn't have much time to search for his helmet until the temple would start to sink back into the mountain. He tried to run and dash out the building, but it was too late. The temple collapsed on him and buried him in a pile of rubble and rock. Thor could remember losing consciousness and blacking out from the impact of the boulders pelting him in the back of the head. At some point he felt cold hands pulling him out from underneath the piles of bricks that had buried him. He happily, hopefully, looked up at his rescuer noting that it was his brother, but this was a different brother with crazed emerald eyes and a loathsome, sharp white grin. "L-loki?" his clumsy, thick tongue uttered his brother's name. "Br-brother, h-help me...please," he begged he couldn't seem to pry himself from beneath the pile of rubble. He reached up for Loki's creamy hand, but as Loki clutched his in return he only found a more sickening grin etched on Loki's sharp features. "Loki?" he questioned as he stared into strange, wild eyes. Why wasn't Loki in more of a hurry to get them both out of there before the temple sank back into the depths of the mountainside.
"Poor brother," Loki said pityingly. He clicked his silver tongue in a way that seemed to project sympathy. "This is quite a predicament," he mused as his eyes roved over the blonde buried under the fallen bricks from the cieling. The deep smile that slipped over Loki's thin lips made Thor's blood curdle. The blue eyed prince blinked thinking maybe the blows to the head that he'd suffered from the debris falling from the ceiling had caused his vision to be skewed.
"Brother?" he stammered wearily feeling himself lose his grip on consciousness. Finally, Loki lifted him from the pile of debri that was mounted on top of him and Thor nearly sighed in relief as he felt the weight of the rocks relieved from his shoulders. No sooner had Loki maneuvered him to his knees he yanked Thor's head back by his golden locks and slithered his long, bony, cold, porcelain fingers around Thor's thick throat. "Sentiment," Loki whispered cruelly in his ear as he pulled harder on Thor's golden mane and twisted his neck at a sharper angle. Loki's breath was deathly cold against the flesh of his earlobes, "Will be your undoing," he pronounced crisply, articulately and icily in Thor's ear just as he plunged before it plunged a deadly dagger into his side.
In his mind Thor could hear the excruciating cry that he had let out then. The bloodcurdling scream ripped through his ears and tore through his heart just as the freshly sharpened blade had torn through his armor and rent his flesh. Thor once again became acquainted with the piercing agony as the pointed edge of the cold knife punctured his organs near the heart and sent a blistering heat surging through his bloodstream. The poisoned dagger caused him to stiffen and sweat running in buckets down his forehead. He felt his chest tighten to the point where he couldn't breathe. His lower extremities started to grow numb and they were unable to support him any longer. Before long, Prince Thor, valiant warrior that he was, felt his sturdy legs give out from under him. He found himself tumbling to the floor and all the while the temple was crumbling around him. His vision started to blur. The vision of his older self as a king swirled before his eyes and the terrible images of Ragnorok flashed before him at a rapid and dizzying rate. Thor didn't know if his sudden fuzzy eyesight had come from being pummeled on the head by the falling bits of marble and white limestone brick crashing down upon him from the temple ceiling or if it was from the poison tipped dagger.
The stab had been undeniably real. He recalled Loki twisting the knife deeper into his skin and then yanking it out brutally, releasing his blonde strands and allowing him to fall to the floor in a helpless bloody mass. His crimson blood spilling out all around. As real as the merciless jab had been, the Loki who performed the act wasn't.
Even in the feverish, frenzy of his foggy mind and his writhing, tortured body he could still couldn't bring himself to believe that Loki would really stab him in the back. In desperation, he held fast the last words that his brother had spoken to him before they parted ways to go on their separate searches. It was the only word that his overwrought mind could still process through the haze of physical agony and emotional torment. Whistle. And so he did. With the little strength that he could still muster her pursed his quivering lips together and let out a faint, shrill whistle. The whistle was the last moment of reality that Thor could remember before his mind was overtaken by the wild, horrific nightmares of Ragnorok. The next time Thor had a grasp on the world was some time later when he awoke, body sway to the rhythm of the tides that was carrying him back to Asgard. He arrived to Asgard still injured and weak, but nontheless he had made it home. He'd been pulled from the Temple where no doubt the Norns had intended for him to meet his demise for showing such contemptible vulnerability and weakness. How had he escaped if not for Loki? His brother had come back for him and had saved him from dying in the temple. Loki's face had been the first face he'd seen when he'd awoken from the frightful dreams that had plagued him. Loki's white brow had been furrowed in concentration, a few of his wispy, ebony locks had fallen from their normally perfect placement slicked back and into Loki's face. His face had a scowl etched upon his thin lips, but it wasn't gruesome grimace from some spineless tyrant, but simply a pained worried expression. Loki's piercing emerald eyes looked down at him in his vulnerable state, he was on his back, weak and tired, sickly and still not completely coherent. He would have been an easy victim, but those emerald eyes that stared down at him weren't sinisterly glowering, but rather they looked on him with tender pity, deep concern shown through the orbs, the look was so kind and gentle and sincere, nearly maternal. He could feel cool hand ever so delicately tugging on him. The chill of the fingers wasn't that on some cold-blooded villain, but instead it was comforting, refreshing, healing. With that in mind, Thor knew that the vision had to be wrong and the prophecy had been false when he awoke from his fevered dreams he found no traces of the wild eyed lunatic who had caused so much destruction. There was no signed of the heartless fiend in the young man with gentle green eyes who bound up his flesh wound and changed his bandages and cooled his forehead with a damp rag and ladled soup to him. How could that man have transformed into this betrayer who would lay trap for him and watch the realms burn?
Immediately, Thor felt hot salt raindrops pushing from behind his azure pupils. They flowed like a waterfall down Thor's dirty, bloodied cheeks. Thor's voice cracked as he let out an animal like groan. The blonde-haired son of Odin started to sob loudly, hopelessly. He was a fool. He was a fool for believing any differently about Loki than what others had said about him: that Loki was a liar, a snake, a traitor, a madmad, a murderer, a monster. Loki was all those things and worse. He was the insatiable beast that would bring an end to them all.
Prince Thor cried for his kingdom and his people. He was suppose to be their protector and defender and he had failed them. He wailed thinking about his parents. Father lied in Oversleep, helpless and mother had believed that he and Loki would work together and save them. If only she could see what was. He thought for sure it would have stopped her heart. The Crown Prince wept for Jane. He was supposed to be her hero, her knight in shining armor, but he'd let destruction come upon her. Her life would surely be forfeit because of him. It tore at his soul that they wouldn't even have the chance to live a life together. Thor moaned for his friends they had begged him to return to Asgard with them, they pleaded with him, but he pressed pass their pleas and forged ahead for Loki. In his earnest desire to save his brother, he'd abandoned them, sacrificed them and condemned them to death. They had been his most faithful companions and he'd just toss them aside.
The brave warriors of Asgard, he hoped they had made it back to Asgard. He hoped they made it back to thir wives and children and friends and loved ones if only just to kiss them goodbye. He hoped that they were at least able to breathe in the crisp autumn air of an Asgardian morning and see the breathtaking sunrise just over the majestic mountains once more. Thor hoped that his soldiers had fared better than he and were once more able to glance upon the two mystical moons that climbed the heavens in the night like two lovers in a secret they made it back then at least the last sights they saw would not be the desolate gray and black nothingness of Svartalfheim. The whole world was such a an eyesore. Prince Thor cringed at the thought of the rest of the realms becoming just like it. Even Jotunheim, a frigid land of ice and snow was better than this wicked and cursed kingdom. The handsome prince for a moment dared to dream that perhaps his friends had arrived in Asgard in time to warn the council of what had happened. It was a short lived dream as reality ever pressed upon his psyche, even if his friends had gotten word to the council what could be done. All the troops in the Nine Realms couldn't stop Malekith now that he possessed the Aether. And nothing good destroy the dark crystal. Only Gunginir and Mjolnir were able to cause the infinity stone to become dormant and he'd given Mojlnir right into the hands of their enemies.
Hot tears continued to tumble down from Thor's bloodshot blue eyes. He couldn't control himself but he began to cry deeper and harder. Each sob and gasp became more and more painful than the last. He shook and buck and tried violently to tear himself from the sticky webs that he was entangled in. He knew it was useless, but he couldn't contain his anguish in mere sobs, his whole body needed to convey his distress. With every pull and tear the dark slime slithered up his torso until his whole body up to his shoulders was coated in the disgusting red and black ooze. Thor let out a thunderous roar of rage at the futility of his every attempt to break free. After letting out a few more loud battle cries that sounded powerful, but proved to be impotent the son of Odin once again broke into ragged sobbing. The betrayal that he felt at the hands of Loki was unspeakable. He couldn't put it in words. The only way to express it was to scream and shake violently and bawl like a frightened child in the night. He wished to Yddrasil that Loki would have just killed him so that he wouldn't have to see the error of his folly. He wished to the heavens that Loki would have just stabbed him clean through when he'd had the chance so that at least he wouldn't have to live his final moments knowing that the love he had for his brother was missed placed and that the bond they shared like everything about Loki was merely a cleverly place illusion. He wished that Loki would have just allowed the Kursed to have smashed his skull with a boulder so that he would have had no memory or knowledge of the terrible events that were to come. Alas, that would have been an act of kindness, an act of pity and charity from one soul to another. And LOki had none of that he was nothing but a soulless wretch,
"LOKI!" Thor hollered in the darkness. "LOKI!" He yelled all the louder to no one. "LOKI, WHY?" The prince demanded relentlessly. "Why? Why?" He went on screaming with only his own baritone voice bouncing back off the metallic walls as a reply. Thor screamed himself breathless he hollered himself hoarse. He bellowed himself into exhaustion. Finally, all of his body, save his head was engulfed by the sickening goo. He was so tightly encased by the thick, crimson web that he couldn't even lift a finger. All he could do was bat weary, heavy eyelids as he tried to fight off a burning desire for sleep. "Why, Loki?" Prince Thor raw voice rasped as his heavy eyelids slid closed and one last, silent tear trickled down his chin. He surrendered to slumber less willingly than he had surrendered precious Mjolnir to the hands of Malekith. Just then the Dark-Elf ship gave a shudder, the engines and turbines hummed and the ship started to move.
The frantic, pounding feet of the members of Asgard's High Council raced from the dome shaped Council Chambers and into the hall of the palace. They were all eager to see where the loud clatter had come from and what had caused it. It shook the very foundations of the palace like a an earthquake, but it didn't produce any noticeable damage. "What do you suppose that was?" asked one young nobleman as he burst forth from the chamber door with the stampede of council members
"Haha!" an older councilman started to chuckle. He was elderly to the point of using a cane to walk for more than just fashion purposes. He sincerely needed it, but even as he hobbled behind the herd of delegates there was still a spring in his step. "It must be Prince Thor!" he exclaimed. "Huzzah!" He called as he tossed his white haired head back in laughter once more as he slapped the younger courtier on the back. "I knew Prince Thor would best that devil, Malekith," he expressed. "Ahhh now I only wish I had been there to have been part of the fight!" He insisted as he lifted up his black ivory cane and raised it in a parrying move like a sword. The elderly member of the High Council nearly toppled over in his excitement.
A strong hand reached out and steadied to older Aesir gentleman. "Ah, take it easy their elder Nordic," stated a middle-age councilman. He helped the older man straighten up and rubbed him on the back in a soothing matter. "Wouldn't want to break a hip and miss the victory celebration, would you?" the delegate stated as he moved on giving his elder a wink before racing toward the front of the crowd. He was eager to be the first to see Prince Thor march through the streets of Asgard in triumph
"No one beats the fairer son of Odin!" yelled another delegate from one of the Northern Provinces.
"He's never lost a battle," stated one lord, in a boisterous conversation over the ruckus of men rushing through the halls. As the members of Asgard's High Council made there way from the inner sanctum of the Council Chamber and into the busy corridors of the palace they were joined by other palace workers. Healers, who had been tending to injured soldiers came pouring out of the halls of healing to see about the noise that had shaken the very foundations of the palace. When they found the council members racing to investigate they followed suit. Servants and maids who stayed in the palace to serve the delegates as they convened burst forth from the quarters following behind their masters to see what all the hullabaloo was about. And soldiers were on the heels of the councilmen ready to investigate the rumble.
"Did you hear that? Did you hear that, my friend?" asked one servant girl to another as she poked her head out of the door of the bedchamber which she had been tidying only to find the distinguished men of Asgard running about.
"What?" the other maid asked s she continued to busy herself with her duties of fixing the bed and linens. "What that big boom? I heard it same as you."
"No, not that!" the younger servant girl flagged off the elder.
"What's all the fuss about out there?' She asked as she wiped her brow and pushed the strands of her dull brown hair out of her eyes.
"Prince Thor is back!" The first young handmaiden exclaimed she turned around and looked at her friend wide eyed.
The other maid stopped mid fold dropping the fresh linen she had just so neatly folded onto the floor. 'what?" She sputtered out. "Are you sure of what you heard?" The dull-haired girl asked. "Don't go spreading rumors or getting my hopes up," she stated shaking her head. "I didn't even know Prince Thor was gone," she muttered under her breath.
"I just heard it!" The servant who stood by the door expressed stomping her foot. "And whadyah mean you didn't know he was gone?" the younger girl started to fuss throwing her hands up in the air,
"Well it isn't as if I've ever been here or seen the prince in person," she defended herself
"The council has been in an uproar about it for days! Don't you pay attention to nothing going on around the palace?' he friend questioned exasperatedly.
"I don't mind servants gossip and I pay attention to my duties," the taller girl said with a humph.
"We are servants and you should servants gossip is always right,"
"I doubt that," the older serving wench countered.
"Everyone is out in the hall shouting hooray and huzzah! I just heard Lord Roric screaming the prince's name," she insisted, "No doubt they are all about to run up to the Bifrost to meet him," the wide eyes girl stated.
"I doubt they are going all the way to the Bifrost," the second chambermaid stated as she continued folding the bedsheets.
"Who cares! They are going to greet him and we should go too," the servant girl with ginger locks insisted.
The thinner, taller maiden, with straight tumbleweed colored hair merely gave a dull and disinterested scowl at her friend. "We should finish our work," the older servant girl stated responsibly. "I'm sure Lord Roric will be cross if he comes back and finds his quarters untidy,' she explained as she patted down the sheets of his bed and fluffed his pillows. It was her first time in the Imperial City. She felt honored that she had been selected to come along with Lord Roric and tend to him during a convening of Asgard's high council. She didn't want to lose her job as a member of Lord Roric's household all for foolish notions of catching a glimpse of the most radiant Prince of Thunder with his luscious golden mane blowing in the wind or his taunt and tawny muscles glistening in the sun.
The handmaiden still by the door flounced her ginger hair, her hair was medium length just barely falling at her shoulders, but it was thick and bouncy. "What in Yddrasil's name are you talking about?' She questioned her friend ruthlessly. "Everyone is going to be celebrating and making merry for a month no one will be worried about clean rooms," she flagged off her friend's caution. "Come on, don't you want to see Prince Thor come in riding high with that Dark-Elf's head on a spike?" She asked singsongily as she rushed over to her friend, took her by the hand and started tugging on her to pry her away from her work.
"I don't know," the dull haired chambermaid stated while shaking her head.
"Oh come on!" The friend said giving one more firm tug, but seeing as her fellow maid was unmoved she gave a dramatic humph. "Well fine!" She spat, "Stay here, you old stick in the mud," the young chambermaid teased as she stuck out her tongue and blue a raspberry at her friend. "I'm going to go and catch of glimpse of glorious, thunderous Prince Thor," she announced proudly as she flipped her short fluffy ginger colored hair once more. She blew a mocking kiss at her companion before hiking up her skirt running behind the crowd full of cheerers and congratulators.
No sooner had the ginger-haired handmaiden counted to 10 did she hear her friends hurried footfalls pounding behind her and he heavy breathing following her as she scampered to catch up. The servant girl with ginger hair chuckled to herself. She knew her friend wouldn't be able to resist. No woman in her right mind would. The ginger turned to her friend and flashed a signature cheeky smile under her broad, freckled nose, 'I'm so glad Prince Thor has returned!" She swooned as she touched her friend on the shoulder while they raced down the hall neck and neck in strides. She touched her hand to her heart and patted it. "I was beginning to grow so worried. I was starting to think that all those terrible stories and predictions about Ragnorok were actually going to come to pass," she admitted breathlessly.
"We should have known he wouldn't have served us any less!" stated the thinner girl as she placed a comforting hand on her friends shoulder. "I knew Prince Thor would avenge us. He'd never allow those monsters to win!"
"Oh my goodness," gasped the shorter servant girl.
"What?"
" I just thought of something," the ginger haired servant girl spoke up as she turned to her friend and snapped her fingers.
"What?" The other chambermaid questioned.
"Most of the high ranking noblewomen have left the Imperial City," she informed but the inflections in her voice almost made the statement seem like a question.
"Yes and?" He friend responded as she curled up her nose while hiking up her brown skirt and running up the steps making her way to the balcony.
"Well," the ginger-haired girl sucked in a deep breath as she started to take the staircase. "That means that Prince Thor will need someone to bestow a victory kiss upon him," the ginger bobbed her head to her own explanation. He friend only stared back at her with a dull and clueless expression, "Sooo, since there are no noblewomen left at the palace… he will have to bestow the kiss on one of the servants!" she clenched her hands into tight fist and nearly squealed. The taller maiden was still staring at her and blinking when they reached the top of the staircase. "That means he might choose one of us!" she exclaimed. She pointed between the two of them and let out a high pitched girlish outcry of sheer joy. It took two seconds before her friend joined her grabbing her hand freezing in her tracks and jumping up and down with excitement.
"AHHH!" shouted the ginger. "I've never been kissed before," she reminded her friend.
"Neither have I."
"Could you imagine getting our first kisses from the beautiful lips of the Mighty Thor!" She shrieked again. "OH! I'd simply die and go straight to Valhalla!"
"well," the dull-haired servant girl began trying to collect herself as she noticed that they were getting left behind in the shuffle of people racing toward the balcony. "He may just be kissing me if you don't hurry up," the dull-haired maiden jeered. She slapped her friend playfully on the shoulder before sprinting off through the crowd. She eagerly pushed her way throw the pack crowd of servants, healers, soldiers and councilmen desperate to make her way to the front and greet the conquering hero with open arms and puckered lips.
"Lady Jane!" Lady Sigyn called to the Midgardian woman. She beckoned the mortal forth with her hand. "We must get Lady Sif and the Warriors to the healers," Sigyn expressed as she managed to hoist Lady Sif to her feet. The brunette, warrior woman was panting heavily and still bleeding profusely. Her wounds had not been tended to at all and it had been several hours. Had she been a human she would have surely bled to death by now. Being Aesir her constitution was naturally physically stronger and as a warrior of Asgard Sif was beyond allowing wound or injury to deter her from her quest, but she needed tending to sooner rather than later.
The gash in her side had been exposed to the elements for far too long and Sigyn knew the way guards handled those who they thought had committed treason. She gulped she'd seen first had how they'd treated her father and how the Aesir soldiers had treated Loki after he'd been imprisoned. Merciless. They wouldn't have taken any care with her wounds. No doubt the hole in her side was filled with dirt and dust and grime and would become infected.
The blonde-haired daughter of Admiral Arn looked down on her friend. Sif was leaning heavily on her. Sigyn was supporting most of Sif's body weight. Her face which was dirty, smudged, bruised and cut up seemed to be growing paler by the second. If it wasn't for the blood on her cheeks and black and blue circles around her eyes, there would have been no color to her face. There was a thick sheen of perspiration coating her face. As Sigyn attempted to move Sif and shift her body weight to a position that was easier for her to carry she could feel the female Einherjar's whole form trembling fiercely. Sigyn struggled to move Sif, the tall, brunette, ironclad shield-maiden was heavy. Sif was also a solid, sturdy build, all muscle and sinew and in all her armor she probably weighed an extra fifty pounds. Besides, Sigyn was practically dragging Lady Sif like a sack of potatoes across the floor. Sif's legs were unable to support her as her body continued to leak profuse amounts of blood.
Lady Sif would never admit to any feeling of weakness. She wouldn't acknowledge her sweating or labored breathing, nor would she halt in her attempts to move her quivering legs that weren't even able to stand any longer. She wouldn't outright say she was in pain, but the grimace on her face which the shield-maiden was unable to mask no matter how much of a brave front she tried to put on. She wouldn't let a groan escape her cracked lips, but ever painstaking tip-toed, baby step that Lady Sif managed to take found her frown fiercely, wincing and furrowing her brows from the agony she was inflicting upon her aching, bleeding side. Sif wished to increase her pace, Sigyn was moving ever so glacially. She didn't want to fuss at the queen's lady-in-waiting. Sigyn was such a gentle soul, but at the rate she was walking by the time they reached the balcony to see Prince Thor the prince would have been seated for his victory banquet. She wished to hurry the noblewoman up, but she doubted she could have gone any faster.
Seeing that Lady Sigyn was attending to Sif, Jane rushed over to the Warriors Three. The mighty soldiers were slumped over top of each other trying to use each other for support. They all struggled to push themselves up off of the white marble floor of the council chamber, but none were strong enough to bear the weight of the other and eventually they all went tumbling down to the ground once more making a cacophony of pained groans and moans.
Jane looked on the sight of beaten and battered men with great pity as she tried to assess the situation scientifically. There was no way she would physically be able to transport the famous soldiers to the healers by herself. Each one of the warriors was over six feet tall and clad in their armor she was sure they would weigh more than what she could support alone. She knew all too well from her experience hitting Thor with her van how heavy an Asgardian man could be. It took herself, Darcy and Erik to lift Thor off the ground and into the back of the truck. Also she didn't even know where the Healers' Wing was. She knew she should have, she'd spent enough time in the Halls of Healing since she'd been in Asgard, but the palace was huge, she felt like her whole dirt-road town in New Mexico could have fit within the palace.
Jane pressed her finger to her mouth as she surveyed Thor's close friends. Volstagg had burn marks from the electro-swords. They had scorched straight through his armor and thick, protective battle tunics. They left his large, rounded belly exposed. The blisters looked painful and although she wasn't a medical doctor she knew enough from the time she'd dated Dr. Donald Blake that the burns were third degree and should have been treated hours ago. The blisters were starting to bubble and boil and soon they would leave permanent scars. They were a sickening black, blue purple color. Luckily, it seemed as though the seizures had ceased.
Quickly, her hazel eyes scanned and took in the blonde-haired Casanova. Frandal had large lumps and knots on the front and back of his head. They were big and red and angry looking. From the way the blonde-haired swashbuckler's eyelids flapped and his eyes roved about the room unable to focus on anything for more than half a second it was obvious that he was suffering from a severe concussion. He could scarcely even sit up and even though he wore a lopsided grin on his face, she could tell he was in pain.
Hogun's eyes were blackened to the point where they looked like plums and they had swollen up to the size of grapefruits from the way that Oddvar and his men had roughed him up. He could not even open his eyes and there was blood that had coagulate around the eyelids. He indeed did look grim. He was too quiet of spirit to ever offer a complaint and although he sat as tall and as straight as he could and although he didn't offer a mumbling word, he pressed his lips together, he pressed them together tight as he could as if he was trying to hold back the floodgates of a sob or maybe a scream.
The sight of Thor's friends, the pride of the Einherjar, the most famed warriors in all of the Nine Realms brought so low made Jane Foster want to cry. She started to cover her face, ready to cry her hazel eyes out into her palms, but then she thought better of it. She'd done a lot of crying lately, but she was ashamed to admit she'd hardly done anything to help the situation. It was because of her that all of Asgard had suffered. It was because of her that the innocent lives of so many of the men, women and children of Asgard would never be the same. Some people had har their homes destroyed, lost limbs, lost loved ones, lost their lives. It was because of her that these men, who were so kind and jovial and full of mirth and adventure had been battered so ruthlessly by their own comrades. She turned away, bit deep into her lip, but did not allow the tears to fall.
Even her arrival to the palace just now had proven to be a futile mission. She'd planned to be helpful. She thought that by telling the Council that Thor was still in Svartalfheim she'd somehow have a chance to save the day, that she'd be able to convince the Council to open the Bifrost and bring Thor back. She thought that the council would heed her words and Asgard would be spared this terrible Armageddon. She'd be the one who'd almost brought their end and subsequently saved them. It seemed childish now to think of trying to save the day and be a hero when it was her who had brought destruction upon this beautiful realm. She scoffed at herself. Thor didn't need her to rescue him. Asgard didn't need her. Thor had made his way back a conquering hero without any aide from her. Bravely, she sniffled and did her best to stifle tears. Tears weren't going to help these courageous men of Asgard, she'd not greet Thor and celebrate his victory with him having not done everything she could to care for his friends. Besides, she had been charged with getting the injured warriors to the healers. Lady Jane Foster swallowed hard and started to roll up her sleeves ready to hoist each member of the Warrior's Three up from the floor and escort him to the healer if necessary, but as Jane looked on the Einherjar she knew that she wouldn't truly be able to transport them.
The hazel eyed Astrophysicist gave a valiant effort, though. Gingerly, she peeled each soldier off of the other. She heard them groan and hiss in pain as she moved and shifted their bodies trying to prop them comfortably against the wall or one of the seats in the chamber. She apologized for repositioning them as it seemed to cause them more discomfort. "I'm sorry," she whispered compassionately as she braced Volstagg up against the wall. The red bearded Viking nodded as he breathed deeply. He started to shake his head.
"Lady Jane," he protested weakly, "Y-y-you must get to Prince Thor," he insisted. "He will want to see you," he explained as his fat fingers gave her hand a squeezed.
"Shh," she soothers as she pushed some of Volstagg's unruly red tendrils out of his face for him. "Thor can wait for a moment now that he is safely back in Asgard," Jane responded as she gave the wounded warrior a sincere smile. "Let's get you to the healer. You need those burns looked after," she chided. "Ah-ah-ah," she corrected, "Those should have been looked at hours ago. Burns like that can cause permanent nerve damage," she reminded him. She saw the plumper Viking lifting his pudgy finger ready to protest, but before he could offer any words of refusal she turned to go toward the golden-haired swordsman.
"Frandal," Lady Jane Foster whispered as she slipped the fair-haired swashbuckler's arm across her shoulder blades,
"J-j-jane?" The bruised and battered golden-locked swashbuckler questioned groggily as he struggled to focus his blue eyes on the face from whence the voice came. He blinked his bleary eyes and rubbed them, he was seeing double. His head pounded as if he'd been hit on his cranium with a sledgehammer. He felt Jane gently lifting his arms and wrapping it around her own slim shoulders. He could feel her trying to raise him to his feet. Somehow, without any effort of his he found himself rising off of the floor. As his bottom lifted off the ground he all of a sudden felt a wave of dizziness was over him. The bout of vertigo was so intense that he lost his initial balance and rocked back and fell to the floor once more pulling Jane down with him.
"Frandal are you OK?" Jane questioned frantically with her arms outstretched toward the fallen warrior. "I'm sorry did I hurt you?"
The handsome Einherjar wore a drunk, sleepy expression, half-lidded eyes and a lopsided grin as he tried to focus on Jane. "Lady J-j-ane," Frandal stuttered once more; his words forming a distinct and uncharacteristic drawl. "Nev'r tol me you hadda sistah," he chucked slightly as he gave Jane a wink. Jane shook her head. "Nev'r tol me she twas purdy as you," Frandal flirted. Somehow even with a concussion he managed to be no less as charming. Jane offered him a sincere smile and stroked his face tenderly. "'Ello there fair maiden," Frandal tried to lift his head from resting on the wall as he wiggled his fingers at the image of Jane.
"Shush," she cooed as she placed her hands upon his bloodied lips. "Let's get you to the healers, alright?" She stated. Once she had a firm clasp around his arm Jane started to try to raise herself of the ground in order to get the proper leverage. "It seems like you might have a pretty bad concussion," she explained.
"Healers!" Lady Sif's sultry voice broke into the conversation. It was the first time since Sigyn had been trying to escort her to the healers that she'd felt her friend's body offer any resistance. Sif's body grew rigid and firm and her feet stood solidly rooted where they were. "No," Lady Sif declared shaking her head. "No, healers" the warrior maiden protested, "not until we see with our own eyes that Thor is well and that this day has been won," the female general insisted. "Isn't that right, boys," Sif called over her shoulder to the Warriors Three.
"Sif, please you need tending to. That wound is still bleeding," Sigyn pointed out. The fresh red blood was seeping through her own pink gown. "You've got to get that stitched up and cleaned," Sigyn explained. "You could bleed to death!" Sigyn shrieked.
Once more Sif shook her head. She tossed her head ever so slightly back. She more so just tossed it to the side so that it could rest once more upon Sigyn's shoulder. "I highly doubt that," Sif muttered. "I've survived much worse than this," the first and only female Einherjar announced and she gave a brittle laugh through gritted teeth. Sigyn continued to frown, she worried her lip. Lady Sif was probably telling the truth. She'd never known Sif to lie. An Einherjar general would never lie, but still Lady Sigyn Arndottir couldn't imagine that her body stand much more blood loss before she passed out. "Not… going… to…the healers…until I see Thor," she continued to protest as she gasped for air. She squared her proud, strong shoulders. She noticed her own trembling and immediately tried to control it so that the weakness she'd been feeling from the stab wouldn't show. She tried to stand stiff and still, but it was no use the stiller she tried to hold herself the more she could hear her armor clanging and rattling together from her shaking body.
"Why hasn't that wound formed a blood clot?" Jane questioned a loud as she pointed to the gaping hole in Sif's body.
The female warrior groaned as she felt the searing pain from the fresh injury flare up. She gripped onto the queen's handmaiden's arm. Squeezing tightly to ward off the effects of the hot, raw pain. "Poisoned," Lady Sif coughed.
"Poison!" Sigyn yelled out, horrified. "Poison! Poison!" the blonde-haired lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga, "H-h-how could it be poisoned?" she panicked.
Sif nodded as her breathing became more and more haggard. "Oddvar is used to dealing with criminals and he'll use any means necessary to subdue them," Sif explained she gave a faint smile. She wiped her shaky hand across her sweat soaked brow.
"Sif if you've been poisoned you must get to the healers," Volstagg started to argue.
The wounded woman merely shot the fat Einherjar an incredulous glare. It was enough to make the burn victim lower is gaze. He poignant stare burned into him a thousand times hotter than the any blade from an electro-sword.
"I'm strong enough to walk," Sif proclaimed as she placed her hand on her gaping wound. The hot, bubbly, sticky, red liquid clung to her fingers as she did so. Her side was so tender that she felt she would scream out from the pain by just the faintest touch of her own palm. The fearsome soldier, bit into her lip stifling herself from yelling. Just then her trembling started to ensue once more. This time even more violent than before. Her legs started to feel wobbly and weak. Her knees knocked together and she could feel them starting to buckle. Sif arms flailed out before her as knees gave way and her body swayed.
"Sif!" Sigyn screamed seeing that the brunette shield-maiden was falling to the floor. With catlike reflexes the queen's lady-in-waiting positioned herself just in time to catch Lady Sif and bear her weight. Sif was completely slumped against Lady Sigyn. "Oh Sif! Oh goodness! Please! Surely, you can see that we must get you to the healers," Sigyn explained as she wrapped her arms around Sigyn's waist to support her. She jutted out her hip to hold Sif up, "You're hurt," she entreated her friend.
"Take me to see Thor and then I'll go," Sif bargained. She was panting and her brown eyes were weak as she looked up at the blonde-haired lady-in-waiting. Sigyn's anxious eyes darted to Lady Jane and then to the Warriors Three.
"There is no point in arguing with Lady Sif," the raspy voice of Hogun spoke up. He shook his head. "She is about as ornery as a wounded Bilgeschnipe," the Hogun chuckled. His eyes were so blackened that he couldn't even see out of them. "And as stubborn as any mule," he laughed lightly.
"I heard that," Sif stated, a tiny grin played on her cut-up lips as she closed her eyes and rested her messy, brunette head on Sigyn's sturdy shoulder.
"If you take her to Prince Thor we will go to be tended by the healers," he stated as he weakly as he tried to clamber to his feet. He felt along the wall as he did so since he was unable to see. Jane rushed to his side and took him by the hands. The grimacing warrior inclined his head grateful to the astrophysicist for help.
"It's a three for one deal, Lady Sigyn," Frandal reminded her. He knew that the golden locked noblewoman much like himself was never one to pass on a great deal. "With a guaranteed return," the debonair swordsman winked his eye.
Lady Sigyn gulped and then looked to Lady Jane Foster. It seemed against her better judgement to take Sif out to greet Prince Thor when she was in such a condition. Sigyn was no healer, but she knew that Lady Sif could die from blood lost. She knew Thor wouldn't care if Sif was not there to greet him as he rode through the city. He'd be much more concerned with the well being of his friends and their safety than he'd ever be about them showing him the respect and honor of a heroes' welcome.
"You can go ahead and take Sif, Lady Sigyn," Jane stated as she continued to lead Hogun by the hand. "I will be sure to get these three to the healers," she promised.
"Oh no, Lady Jane," amber eyed Sigyn started to protest. "You should accompany Lady Sif to greet Prince Thor. I am sure Prince Thor will be eager to see you," Sigyn announced with a giggle. "I'm sure you will be eager to see Prince Thor," she went on. "Beside," Sigyn said still giggling and smiling. A school girlish grin displayed upon her puckered pink lips. "it is tradition for the conquering hero to bestow a kiss upon a fair maiden," she expressed. "You will want to be that maiden, I am sure," Lady Sigyn snickered. They heard Sif give an agitated groan in the background.
Jane's hand tensed around Hogun's. The silent and calm warrior squeezed her hand in return. Yes, she did want to be there to greet Thor. She wanted to applaud him, cheer for him and run into his arms. She desired to wrap her arms around her, feel his face with her fingers and be the one to plant the victor's kiss upon his beautiful lips. They'd been a couple for nearly 2 and a half years now and they'd shared far too few kisses. Every kiss they had shared had seemed cut short. Something always interfered and held them back from drinking each other in fully, deeply richly. Jane had never considered herself a sensual or sexual person. She'd always been a bit shy about such things and in part she preferred to concentrate on her studies. Physic and astronomy had always seemed more exciting than men. It wasn't until she met Donald that she'd felt torn between physics and physical relationship. Frankly, she'd always thought that Donald had been disappointed with her choice. Perhaps she hadn't been passionate enough, affectionate enough, sexual enough for him, but then again he'd also pursued career over her. She'd always felt she'd played second fiddle in his life and she wasn't willing to give herself completely to a man who hadn't given himself completely to her. Thor was different, he'd risked his life and the life of his people and maybe even the Nine-Realms in an effort to save her. He'd given everything. For the first time in her life Jane felt as though she was ready to do the same.
"It can wait," Jane said quietly, her eyes dropped and she licked her lips. Her tongue salivated to taste him.
"it doesn't need to," Lady Sigyn refuted the statement.
"I promised that I would see to it that all the wounded warriors got to the healers," Jane announced and looked at Frandal, Volstagg and Hogun. Each one of them had somehow made their way to their feet. "It wouldn't see right to greet Thor after not having fulfilled my own mission," she stated.
Sigyn nodded, "Very well then," she finally agreed, "Now, once you see that Prince Thor and Loki have returned to Asgard safe and sound you will go right to the healers won't you?" the youngest daughter of Admiral Arn qualified.
The female general rolled her bloodshot brown eyes to glance up at Lady Sigyn while her head was cocked to the side resting on her shoulder. "I care not if Loki returns or not," she declared. Although Sif mahogany colored eyes were weak they shone hard as flint when she spoke the name of the trickster. Reflexively, the golden locked handmaiden bit her lip. She felt her face flush. It hurt her that no one else seemed to care what became of Loki, but she knew that she could expect no better. To all of Asgard Loki was simply a traitor, a usurper and a monster. There was no pity for such a creature in their ranks.
"Oh ok," Sigyn replied quickly.
"But I will return to the healers when I see Prince Thor carrying that devil Malekith's head on a spike," she swore.
With that Sigyn nodded and started to once again carry Sif off to greet Thor. Perhaps it wasn't the agreement that was made in the best interest of the warrior woman's health, but Hogun had been right, Sif was as stubborn as a mule and she would not back down. She'd sooner keel over and die before she'd concede to going to the healer without seeing Thor. No matter what she or the others said, Lady Sif would not relent. Sigyn could recognize it in her eyes. It was a type of fierce, resolute determination. The type of iron will that should be expected of an Einherjar. Any soldier would need such fortitude in the heat of battle. It was such willpower amongst the soldiers that enabled them to vanquish all foes on the battlefield and overcome any obstacle. Still, there was something more to the dogged look in Sif's earthy pupils. It was more than the persistent loyalty of a soldier forged in the heart of battle toward her commanding officer, more than the unyielding faithfulness of a friend. For surely, Volstagg, Frandal and Hogun were just as faithful friends to Thor as Lady Sif was and even they knew that Thor wouldn't expect them to be there standing in the crowd cheering for him after they'd been nearly beaten with in an inch of their lives only for accompanying him to the Dark-World. No, there was more to the look in Sif's dark brown eyes. It was a look Lady Sigyn recognized because it was a look she'd seen staring back at her in the mirror on the day she'd decided to run away from Lord Theoic's plantation.
She had hardly recognized such a look on herself in the moment she'd seen it reflecting at her through the mirror in her suite in Lord Theoic's plantation. It was so unlike herself. She'd never seen herself as strong or brave or determined, but she had been. She'd been determined to get back to the Imperial City no matter what the cost. She hadn't cared if it cost her, her last chance at marriage or if it cost her the love of her family or if she died trying to make it to the Imperial City. Her own resolve hadn't simply come from a desire to fulfill Dagmar's dying request or solely from a wish to stop Ragnorok, but from a desire to see Loki. She wanted to see him and know that he was happy and at peace before she moved on with her life. As she looked at Lady Sif she could tell she wanted the same thing. Her sister had helped her; so how could she not help Lady Sif.
Sigyn finally nodded to Lady Jane consenting to the plan, "Now Sif as soon as you see Prince Thor you are going straight to the healers, no complaints or arguments," Sigyn chided mildly, he voice had a playful tone as she resituated Sif so that she was better able to support her.
The warrior woman gave a weak smile, "You have my word, Lady Sigyn," she pledged as she brought her bloody hand to her breast plate. It left a red hand print over her heart. Sigyn frowned. She gripped Sif tightly by the waist and hurried her along the sooner they saw Prince Thor the better.
The two of them hobbled along out the Council Chamber doors desperately trying to make their way to the balcony, Lady Sigyn Arndottir smiled to herself. She never really thought she and Lady Sif had much in common. Lady Sif was a warrior of Asgard of the highest degree, revered and esteemed by their people. She was a disgraced noblewoman, her name simultaneous with dirt among their people. Sif was strong, brave, rough and tumble. She was gentle, mild-mannered and feminine. Yet they were two women who suffered from the same the same cruel irony. They both loved men who loved other women.
As they made their way to the balcony to catch up with the crowd and see what the clatter was all about they started to hear loud cheering. The council members and the rest of the palace staff had broken into a happy chant. An old Asgardian war song that most Aesir children learned in school. The council members and palace soldiers were clapping and stamping their feet to the rhythm. "As I look to my right I see Asgard has conquered as I look to my left I see our enemies have fallen!" the Asgardians roared over and over.
Sigyn attempted to move as quickly as she could without jostling Lady Sif too much. It was hard to negotiate Sif up the stairs. The shield-maiden was scarcely able to lift her feet and the toe of her boots kept getting caught on the stairs. Sif didn't say anything, but her groans and grimaces as Sigyn maneuvered her along said enough. Lady Sigyn anxiously kept apologizing. She would stop and offer for them to rest or take Sif to the healers. "No! No," the female soldier protested. "I'm fine," she argued. Just then she gasped from pain. "Alright, I'm not fine, but I'm not going to the healer until I see him." She started to lift her arm from around Sigyn's shoulder, but even the simple movement proved to be excruciating and exhausting. "Even if I have to crawl and drag m sorry carcass there," she expressed resolutely.
The amber eyed handmaiden to Queen Frigga immediately gripped Sif arm back up and steadied it around her shoulder not allowing her to move it again. "No need for that," she assured the brunette with a smile. "I'm a woman of my word too," she reminded her. She counted and slowly walked with Sif so that the shield-maiden was able to lift her foot to the platform of the next step. "Listen Sif! Can you hear them?" Sigyn asked excitedly once they reached the top step, "All the people are cheering and singing! Prince Thor must have arrived back safely and victoriously! Listen to the crowd! Oh listen! Listen!" she shouted enthusiastically.
Lady Sif smiled, her head rested heavily on Sigyn's shoulder. She hummed to herself. "I can't wait to see Thor dragging those monsters back in chains. Come, Sigyn I can walk a little faster, I assure you, let us catch up with the crowd," she urged. Sif started to hum along to the battle cry. But she felt too tired to even lift her voice along with the chanters. Sigyn turned to her friend, she was ghostly white and she was dripping blood all over the marble floor of the palace. The golden-locked daughter of Admiral Arn pulled her friend closer and held her more securely as she hastened her pace ever so slightly. She too was anxious to get to the balcony as well.
By the time Sigyn and Sif could see the backs of the crowd stamping and cheering and assembling around the balcony all pushing and shoving to catch a glimpse of the might Thor, the battle song had changed. Lord Algrim had stood up before the Councilmen and the other members of the palace household and started to lead them in another popular chant. "Hail! Hail! Hail!" Odin's elfin advisor started to stir the crowd. The skinny, elderly prime minister pumped his fist in the air as if moments ago he had not been accusing Prince Thor of high treason and calling for his arrest and imprisonment.
The delegates and councilmen followed suits. They lifted up their voices as well as their fists and joined in the battle cry. This one had been written for the young prince by a group of a few young bards who were apprenticing with the court composer. Prince Thor was so impressed with the chant that they'd penned for him that he declared it his official cheer. The young minstrels went on to become very famous in Asgard. They toured around the realm giving concerts at all the arenas, theaters and opera houses. They were called Mjolnirs' Minstrels. Deep bass voices rose up in a mantra of hails. "Hail! Hail! Hail!" the men shouted. The few women in the crowd accompanied the men. They sung the melody. A few of them had tambourines and timbrels, a few others were waving their handkerchiefs and brightly colored scarves. "Hail Prince Thor!" the women sang. "For his deeds are mighty and many! Hail Prince Thor for his victories are plenty! Hail Prince Thor a mighty conqueror is he! Hail the Golden Prince for another victory!" the maidens clapped and cheered.
Sigyn joined in with the handmaidens and female healers and palace soldiers who were singing Thor's victory song. She heard Lady Sif attempt to sing along, but the shield-maiden's voice was gravelly, brittle, raspy and faint. "Are you alright?" Sigyn asked. Sif still hadn't open her eyes and her chapped lips were hardly able to move as she sang.
Lady Sif jiggled her head in an affirmative response, "Fine." She muttered a lie. "C-c-can…y-you see…Thor?" she stuttered through a shiver.
Lady Sigyn tried to stretch her tanned neck to see above the crowd. She and Sif were standing in the back and she was trying to keep Sif out of the way of the multitude fearing that an overly excited, dancing serving wench would accidently hit the shield-maiden in her already injured side and exasperate the wound. "No," Lady Sigyn answered honestly, "There's so many people…"
"I bet," Sif sighed.
"I'm sure Thor is marching through the Bifrost as we speak, though. Listen to the people. I wouldn't be surprised if Prince Thor can hear us from here," she expressed.
Sif nodded, "S-s-see if you can get to the front," she pressured.
"What?" Sigyn looked down at her friend. The woman seemed as if she could scarcely breathe and her trembling was so violently that she was starting to make Sigyn shake as well. "Oh no, Sif, please you could get pushed or shoved or…or…"
Sif rolled her mahogany eyes, a smirk was on her dry and cracked lips, "You think an Einherjar of Asgard can't take a little shove," she teased and coughed out a dry laugh.
"No," Sigyn averted her golden eyes, "I…I…I didn't mean…"
Lady Sig reached her quivering, blood soaked hand out to squeeze Sigyn's hand. Sigyn gasped, Lady Sif's calloused hand was sticky and cold with her own blood. "Sigyn, p-p-please," Sif whispered. Her tone was pleading and her dark brown, bloodshot, tearful eyes were begging. Sigyn's heart wrenched. She instinctively squeezed Sif's bloody hand as well. She'd known Lady Sif along time. She known her when she was just a lass and she'd never heard Sif's voice sound so weak and desperate. A warrior of Asgard didn't beg for anything. They took the things they wanted. They proved themselves and had things bestowed upon them. "Just a bit closer," she murmured in Sigyn's ear. "I…I…I just want…t-t-to…sssee," she slurred as her mahogany eyes slipped closed.
"Alright," Sigyn agreed reluctantly, "I'll try to get us closer, but I…I don't know if I can get us to the front," she explained. She felt Lady Sif's cool cheek rub against the fabric of her gown as she bobbed her head weakly. The warrior woman felt too tired to offer even one more word of protest. The queen's lady-in-waiting slowly made her way through the assembly. Most were too busy dancing and singing and talking amongst themselves to hear Lady Sigyn's polite pardon me and excuse me as she tried to inch pass them. Unknowingly, many of the delegates and council members ended up running into Sif. The warrior woman merely moaned as she was constantly rammed by elbows and hands and bumped by shimmying and shaking hips. Sigyn did her best to protect Lady Sif bleeding side by keeping that part of her body pressed toward herself.
Somehow, the two Aesir women made their way to the front of the mob. Sigyn was able to get right next to the banister of the balcony. She was able to lean on it and allow Sif to do the same. Lady Sif was eager to attempt to stand on her own two feet once more. Although, Lady Sigyn was not as apt to let go of the wounded warrior. She stood behind Sif like a vigilant, over protective mother. She allowed Lady Sif to cling to the banister that wrapped around the balcony for support. Sif hands clutched tightly onto the gold railing. She rested her abdomen against the banister, her arms were shaking to profusely to have held her up sufficiently without relying on her core. Sigyn's arms were outstretched around her, ready to catch her at a moments notice if she needed to. Sif's vision was growing more and more cloudy and dim. Colors and forms started to swirl together in one indecipherable blur. She blinked and rubbed her quaking blood stained hand over her eyes trying to clear them. She could make out the brilliant flashing rainbow colors of the bridge, she could make out the golden orb of the Bifrost observatory, but she couldn't make out the image of the golden-haired son of Odin marching proudly across the bridge with a string of dead Dark-Elf bodies dragging behind him. "Can you see, Thor?" the warrior of Asgard questioned the noblewoman.
For a moment the beautiful golden-eyed handmaiden to the queen of Asgard lost her tongue. She merely wagged her head forgetting that Sif couldn't see her. She didn't see Prince Thor at all. She didn't see Loki either. She felt her pulse quicken and she felt beads of sweat start to gather around her temples and forehead and even at the nape of her neck. Surely, it would cause her careful crafter hair-style to be ruined. Sigyn nervously wiggled her fingers and wrung her bronzed hands. Something about the sight before her bright, big, amber orbs filled her with dread.
She tried to calm herself, she tried to tell herself that what she saw was nothing to worry about or be afraid of in and of itself. It was just a shadow. A dark cloud looming over the Bifrost. It was a thick, dark t-shaped cloud. It almost had the horrible shape of a funnel. It looked like a great storm was rolling into the realm. It should have filled her heart with hope and joy. After all, thunder and lightening were Thor's trademarks. Certainly, the thunderer was just riding in on the backs of the storm ready to use thunder and lightening to proclaim his victory. What else could it be? There was less than a days time until Convergence, it was impossible for it not to be Prince Thor riding on a cloud into victory. Anything less than that could spell calamity for them all.
"S-s-sigyn," Sif voice feebly managed to sputter. The brave shield-maiden tried to rotate her head just a quarter of an inch, but it proved to be too strenuous an action. "The prince…do…do…do you…s-s-see him?" she croaked.
"I…I…I," Sigyn stammered shaking her head trying to bring herself back to reality. She could scarcely make out Lady Sif low tone over the roar of the cheering of the pack of people applauding Prince Thor's return. She could scarcely make out the raucous and rowdy chants, whistles and hollers of excited mob over the pounding of her heart in her ears. "I…I" she sputtered once more. "I…no…I mean…I don't know," she quickly corrected herself.
Sif's lip curled in confusion, "what?"
"I…" Sigyn started to explain once more. "Can you wait here a moment on your own, Lady Sif?" the golden-haired handmaiden to Queen Frigga asked her pretty honeycomb eyes darting around as she spoke.
Lady Sif clung tighter to the banister and then nodded, "I'm not leaving until I see him," she responded.
Sigyn placed a gentle hand on the female Einherjar's shoulder. "I'll be right back," she assured her as she patted her shoulder. Before Sif had a chance to acknowledge the woman's words Lady Sigyn had already darted off to find Lord Algrim. Sigyn could see Lord Algrim standing in the center. The delegates and officials and officers around him were all still chanting, singing merrily and cheering wildly in anticipation of Asgard Crown Prince. At first Lord Algrim wore a smile same as the rest of the men and women in the assembly, his shrewd white eyes looked out expectantly trained on the Bifrost. Before Sigyn could reach him one of the palace soldiers rushed toward the thin elfin advisor. The soldier looked wild eyes and petrified. He gripped the head of Asgard's High Council by his shoulders roughly. The act was highly irregular. Asgardians in general were affectionate and tactile people, but a soldier would never break such protocol and touch a high ranking noble without at first saluting or bowing to the dignitary. Lord Algrim keen features pinched in perplexed offense at the brashness of the young soldier, the soldier seemed to make no apologies for his behavior rather he went on talking hurriedly in Lord Algrim's ear. His breathing was labored, his words were coming out so quickly and breathlessly that he was hard to make out.
"Slow down, son, what are you saying?" the elderly elf asked. He turned and waved a hand over the people, "I cannot hear over all the commotion," he slightly chuckled.
"My…my…my lord, Lord Algrim…something has gone wrong at…at the…at the… at the Bifrost," the footsoldier panted. He leaned on his knees desperate to catch his breath.
The Prime Minister of Asgard shook his head, his face growing stern and disapproving. "What do you men, young man?" he demanded. "The Bifrost is shut down and Oddvar and his men are there…"
"Y-y-yes sir," the palace guard decked in shiny brass armor nodded, "but, but, but they are not responding to any of the tower signals to report," he admitted anxiously.
"There could be some type of interference at the Bifrost their signals and coders could be jammed," Algrim reasoned moreso to himself than to explain anything to the soldier. "Or perhaps Prince Thor has returned and Oddvar and the men are welcoming him home," the elf went on. "There could be some confusion," Lord Algrim concluded. "After all Oddvar probably thinks that he is still to arrest Prince Thor and bring him to meet before the Council. They probably got into some skirmish," the tall and lanky advisor to the king went on.
"There was no evidence of struggle, my lord," the soldier reported.
"What are you saying?" Algrim turned his head to face the guard at a sharp angle.
"The guards at the lookout tower were worried. We sent solar skiffs to the Bifrost to investigate. But the scouts reported charred marks and empty craters formed in the Bifrost. But no bodies," The young soldier informed his voice sounded shaken.
Algrim who was already so fair skin that by many his flesh was considered gray went white as a mountain top capped with snow. "No." Sigyn watched him say. "It can't be!" he shook his head refuting the notion.
The young palace guard only hung his head, he soundlessly bobbed it up and down, "There is a ship."
"Prince Thor's sailor?" Algrim nearly pleaded as he gripped the boy by the steel-clad shoulder blades.
"No sir…no," the soldier whispered.
"Well what then?" Lord Algrim demanded hastily.
"A Dark-Elf warship, sir," the soldier stated. He squared his shoulders and stood up tall as he relayed the information.
"Lord Algrim!" A maiden's voice came breaking into the conversation. She was also a younger woman, based on her white frock and the blue shawl she was wearing over her head she was an apprentice healer. "Lord Algrim!" she cried her voice frantic. She was carrying something in her hand. It appeared to be some type of scroll. When she got to the high ranking court official she managed to dip herself into a curtsy, but she rose from it quickly. "This message just came from the Southern Palace, my lord," she informed him. Lord Algrim nearly snatched the scroll from the young woman's hands, but his eyes weren't even able to read over it before the apprentice healer started talking. "It's about the king's health," she explained. "The message is encoded. It was sent by Healer Onrac. He used the healers codex," she informed the head of Odin's Council. Lord Algrim was familiar with the code of the healers. Healers who worked in the palace and amongst the nobles often had to keep secrets about the health of their patients. Particularly, young mistresses who carrying illegitimate heirs. The messages were encoded to protect the privacy of the noble families, in case the couriers and paiges decided to snoop in the correspondences of the masters. Lord Algrim looked at the strange markings on the parchment scroll. There were letters that he recognized, but no outright words.
"Do you understand this, apprentice?" he asked the healer in training.
"Yes, my lord, I do," she stated.
"Care to interpret?" he asked her handing the parchment scroll back to her.
"In short, Lord Algrim it stated that the all-father's condition has grown much worse. He is using a breathing apparatus and he has gone into cardiac arrest several times," she looked down as she spoke not willing to look up and speak such ill news about Asgard's beloved king. Lord Algrim grabbed his head. He clawed at his scalp nearly pulling out the his long white strands. He rested his head in his palms. "What should we do, my lord?" asked the young soldier.
Lady Sigyn was standing right in back of the soldier and heard all the details. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Her head swirled, her chest tightened and her airway constricted. She could hardly breathe. She wanted to cry out and run away screaming. "Norns spare the king," she prayed quickly as she dropped her head. Hot tears flooded from her amber eyes. She wanted to run back to Sif and tell her, but her feet didn't have a chance to budge before one of the delegates cried out. "HO! Our Prince cometh!" he shouted jubilantly.
The populace gathered on the large palace balcony quieted themselves only for a moment to look and see a figure immerge from the Bifrost. The figure was far away and it looked like an ant cross a glittering stick from that distance. The assembly of only a hundred or so men and women broke into loud, wild, ecstatic cheer, hoots and hollers. They allowed their accolades and applause to ring out as loud as if they were a great multitude of thousands gathered in the great atrium. "Hail Prince Thor for his deeds are mighty and many!" a chorus rose up to sing once more.
"Prince Thor we love you!" young chambermaids and wenches exclaimed as they practically flung themselves over the balcony railing waving their favors and tokens, leaning over the balcony stretching their arms out as far as they could, blowing him kisses. Even in her weakened state Lady Sif still managed to choke out a scoffing cough at the foolish maidens who aimlessly through themselves at Prince Thor's feet. Perhaps the youthful maidens weren't foolish. Before Lady Jane had come into his life Thor had never had a problem pursuing a flirtatious courtesan, or a coquettish barmaid. He would even give a pretty enough peasant girl a one night stand here and there in the low lying villages if she was attractive enough. All of Sif bravery and ruggedness hadn't won her the heart of the Prince it had only made him see her as one of the men.
The crowd continued to yell and clap and scream for Thor. Lord Algrim started to sigh in relief his normal rigid, stiff posture relaxing for just a second. He leaned over resting his bony elbows on the golden railing. He wiped his brow, his stringy, long strands of silver-gray hair clung to his forhead as it had just started to perspire. He placed his narrow fingers to rest on the young soldier's back. "Ah look, the Norns smile down upon us today," Lord Algrm beamed. He rubbed the soldiers back and patted him on the back as well. "Well done young Thor! Well done," the leader of Asgard's High Council applauded.
Finally, the tension in Sigyn's chest began to ease. She placed her hand over her heart, feeling its beat slowing down. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and started to gather in the corners until they spilled from her larger golden pupils. She immediately started stomping her feet and dancing with the crowd Asgardians. One of the maids of the council members caught her by the arm and in the stir of energy and excitement began to dance with her. She led her in a traditional Asgardian dance. It wasn't a court dance but was a popular line dance for festivals and celebrations. Sigyn immediately fell in step dancing with fancy footwork right along with the other women of the palace household. She danced despite herself. For a moment the blonde-haired woman felt a little foolish. She'd risked so much in coming back to the Imperial City. She'd disobeyed her future husband and slipped out on him on the night before they were to be wed, Sigyn winced at the thought. She had probably disgraced him before his friends and neighbors. She'd made a cuckold of him and she could not expect to fall in his good graces once again. If he accepted her back at all she'd simply be a concubine and a slave of his first wife. She'd dishonored her mother and father. Her father would be furious and although he would most likely forgive her sister, Rana for assisting her in her escape she doubted he'd ever speak with her again, especially if Lord Theoic annulled their betrothal vows and her father was no longer able to fetch a bride price for her. She'd come all this way and it appeared that she hadn't been needed. Loki hadn't needed her to make the right decisions. Even without the letter Loki had been able to make the right decisions.
Although her feet kept prancing about in a circle, Sif berated herself mentally. It was foolish of her to think that Loki would need her help in making the right decision to stand with his brother and fight for Asgard. Even if he cared nothing for all of Asgard he cared so deeply for Dagmar that he would have done anything to avenge her.
Sigyn shook her head and tried to turn her attention off of her own self pity. This was a moment of rejoicing. Thor and Loki had defeated Malekith, that was all that mattered. Ragnorok wasn't coming and the Nine Realms were spared. She'd give Loki the scroll so he could no about the fate of his own child. Whatever happened after that she had to convince herself was none of her concern. Loki deserved to know the truth about his child. He loved Dagmar so much she couldn't imagine him not wanting to raise the child they bore together if the child was alived and well. Once she delivered the letter she'd bow out of his life forever. She'd have done her duty and she'd plague him no more. She'd try to endeavor not to allow thoughts of him to plague her anymore as well. Though she knew that would be nearly impossible. She couldn't imagine a time in her life when she would not love him. She'd always love him, but she'd go and consign herself to whatever life awaited her in the Dales and she'd do her best to be a good and faithful wife to Lord Theoic if he'd still have her.
Sigyn started to slip away from the frolicking crowd. In her joy over the triumphant return of Prince Thor and Loki and her own musings about Loki she'd nearly forgotten about Sif. Sif! Poor Sif still was in desperate need of a healer. Sigyn was determined to take the shield-maiden down to the hall of healing no matter how much she protested. Surely, by now the warrior woman had caught a glimpse of Prince Thor.
"Sif! Sif!" Lady Sigyn called as her tanned hands pushed through the throng of people gathered over the balcony. She finally made her way to the shield-maiden. The female Einherjar was slumped against the railing. She'd fallen to her knees and was only just barely able to keep herself up right. "Sif! Oh my goodness, Lady Sif!" the blonde-locked handmaiden of Queen Frigga called as she raced to her friend. She immediately fell to her side on her knees as well. She wrapped her arms around Sif's shoulder, "Can you stand? We must get you to a healer!" Sigyn insisted as she helped the warrior to her feet.
"I fell…I..slipped down," LLady Sif slurred as her eyelids flapped over her dark colored eyes. "I didn't see him," she responded weakly. She gave a flimsy attempt to wave Sigyn off from trying to pry her from the spot. Sigyn was easily able to deflect the woman generals flagging. She carefully hoisted Sif to her feet.
"Alright, Alright," she soothed swiping her hand over Sif's sopping wet forehead. She brushed the damp brunette tresses out of Sif's eyes she pointed toward the Bifrost and the figure approaching. "Look there he is!" the pretty blonde beamed.
With momentous effort, Sif raised her head off of Sigyn's shoulder and forced her tired eyes open. She squinted, desperately trying to make out the figure rapidly crossing the Bifrost bridge.
"That's not Thor," she stated.
"Oh yes, yes it is Lady Sif. Thor's returned! You'll see! You'll see he'll come to visit you in the infirmary," she insisted as she tried to negotiate Lady Sif's limp body away from the balcony.
Lady Sif's hand managed to catch hold of the banister, she wouldn't let go and halted Sigyn from budging her an inch. "No…it's…not…" she panted. "it's…"
"Loki," Sigyn said her tone filled with glee as she beheld the raven hair magician strolling proudly across the Bifrost.
"Loki?" Sif hissed. "Where is Thor?" she coughed.
"There is someone else with him," Sigyn stated. "It must be Thor!" she cried. But as Sigyn's beautiful eyes looked on the sight longer she realized that the proud ironclad figure strolling beside Loki was not his brother. In fact there were many marching behind Loki and the person beside him but they weren't Aesir. Their features came into focus the closer they drew and finally Sigyn was able to make out the being trekking ever so determinedly across the rainbow bridge. "No, no, no," Sigyn mumbled. "It can not be," she stammered as she watched Loki marching side by side with the leader of the Dark-Elves, escorting a monstrous battalion of Dark-Elf soldiers to the palace and trailing behind the army of Dark-Elf soldiers was a miserable figure being dragged across the rainbow bridge, the pitiful wretch could not even get to his feet as the soldiers dragged him and a final pair of soldiers at his heels drove a whip across his back.
"Thor!" Lady Sif gasped as she beheld the hideous sight. She stretched out her hand toward him and tore herself from Sigyn's arms only to fall to the ground unconscious.
A/N Readers just to let you know Wednesday of this week is my birthday and I will count all reviews as birthday gifts so let me know what you think