{-Fjorm-}
"He's back! He's back!"
All four of them rushed up to the window to look at the group entering the gates below. That same group had left a year ago in order to recover a national treasure; their father was among those dozen men. He'd been sending them letters of fairytale-like heroics up until a couple months ago and they were all desperate to hear the end of the epic saga. If they thought of the absence of letters at all, they credited it to the blizzards that kept a lot of things from getting done.
Ylgr had climbed up on Hríd and counted each of the men that walked through the gates. "That's… four, right? Which one's Dad? Their armor's in the way!" She was the only one who didn't know how many had left, or that none of them was the king.
"Fjorm," Gunnthrá began slowly, "it's getting late. Why don't you help Ylgr get ready for bed?"
"But I'm not tired!" Ylgr pouted. "I wanna see him! It's not fair that I have to wait 'til tomorrow! What if I went to bed right after? Please?"
Hríd gently got her off of him. "Ylgr, go to bed," he said sternly. He glanced back through the window and quietly added, "We'll all know what happened in the morning."
Fjorm guided Ylgr away and towards her room, for a while trying to dodge all the questions she asked.
"Why are you making me go to bed so early? Mom let me stay up way later last night!"
"I'm sure the Dream-King will be happy to see you."
"Why can't I just wait for Mom?"
"She's going to be with them for a while."
"Then why can't Gunnthrá do it? She does funny voices way better than you!"
"She and Hríd need to help Mother."
Then finally Ylgr asked something about the root of the problem: "Is something wrong?"
Fjorm couldn't give an answer, not without saying more than she should. She walked to the bookshelf and, with her back to her sister, asked, "Is there any particular story you want to hear?"
"The one where Dad finishes his awesome quest and comes back with a bunch of stories and gifts!"
It took her a long time to say anything, waiting for a point where she hoped she could hide what she was really thinking. "Not… all fairytales have a happy ending."
…
They never knew the exact details. They knew that he'd gotten there, that much was in the letters. He'd gotten what they were there for and that was where it started to get jumbled up. The group got caught up and somewhere around then—as if none of them had seen it for themselves—he was gone. There wasn't even so much of a note about who or what did it, or if he'd died powerless or like a hero. The man they'd all considered undefeatable was dead… and they didn't know if he fought at all, really; if he thought of them, if he didn't want to leave them, if he tried with every part of him to go back home. Fjorm wanted to believe he did, yet there was that creeping doubt that told her he didn't.
"Get back up, princess! You said you wanted to fight so prove it to me!"
She got back on her feet but she was sure she wouldn't last much longer. She was exhausted and bloody; the only thing that kept her from completely giving up was that, somewhere in the battle, Hríd and their mother had shown up to watch. A part of her was almost more interested in what they were mumbling—if it had anything to do with her horrible performance—than the fight in front of her. She hated how happy she was that Hríd walked up to her instructor at that moment, even though she knew he wouldn't be there for her in a real fight.
She only got two bits from their hushed argument:
"With all due respect, Prince Hríd, do you really think Múspell is going to—"
"She's not going to fight their forces. She'll be our last hope if this kingdom falls but it is not as the warrior who kills King Surtr. Surviving a battle is just as good as winning one."
Their mother walked up to her, giving her a gentle smile. "Come on, Fjorm. Let's get you cleaned up."
On the way to her room, though, Gunnthrá saw them; she must've known part of the reason their mother and Hríd had come, because she had a short conversation with them before offering to help.
"I'm convinced he's trying to kill you," she mumbled as she tended to Fjorm's cuts. "Was he ever this hard on you, Hríd?"
"I would say no, but I also had more of a natural talent for combat than she does," he responded casually.
"Thanks for the encouragement," Fjorm grumbled sarcastically. "I get it, I'm not—"
"Your father was like that, when I first met him," their mother sighed, making the rest of them go quiet. "They didn't think he'd last long. But when it came to protecting his friends, his family, his home… he never lost and he never gave up. I'm certain you'll be just like him one day." She glanced over her shoulder at Hríd. "Can you get it?"
He nodded and left.
"Get what..?" Fjorm asked hesitantly.
Gunnthrá was the one to answer. "Do you know what Father left to recover?"
"Of course. Leiptr…"
She understood when Hríd came back with the lance.
"Leiptr's full power can only be accessed by a select few," he explained. He offered it to her. "We think that if anyone can access it, it'll be you. All of us know that things are only going to get worse from here. So we're trusting you with this." He gave a small smile. "I know you're not going to disappoint us in what you can do."
((A/N: Fjorm actually can't unlock the full potential of Leiptr. But hey, she's the only one to be able to successfully perform the Rite of Frost (which probably everyone in that room knew) because of her similarities to Hvergel, so I guess that's something?
This is the last bonus of this story! Read below for more information about the next one!
The time of the prince of peace and little dreamer has finally come. But what kind of trials await them in the gods' domain? Find out in Ascension coming April 9th, 2022!))
