Queen
Loki Laufeyson:
The news spread across the realm like an untamed fire. The lost son had returned at the break of sunlight. He entered the wide gates created from the sharpened bones of fallen Asgardians to meet the King. He bore an inexcusable resemblance to a well-known royal of Jotunheim. The mere sight of Loki made the crowds of spectators chant in unison.
His approach to the throne was slow . He hid his sneer with a mask of indifference. He believed he would be murdered within the hour if he exposed his true feelings to these savages. Upon the throne the patient Jotunn waited for his unaccompanied guest to approach. He allowed a faint smile to slip when Loki gave a forced civil greeting, he bowed his head and clenched his teeth.
"Goodness, what a pleasant little prince you are! I was under the impression that you lacked manners and needed a good lesson to put you right." The frost giant sighed, then lazily rested his chin in his right hand. "We weren't properly warned of your rash decision to join us in Jotunheim. You must be in dire need of our women's charms if you couldn't wait till the planned month." The crowd chuckled at their royal's statement.
Loki raised his gaze from the ground to steal a peek at the man on the throne. The blue skinned beast had a harsh look to him. His face a combination of sharp angles, a wide forehead and narrow lips. His eyes were red as shed blood and his teeth jagged.
"Does my arrival inconvenience you? Do you worry about another mouth to feed? Tsk. In Asgard the food and ale are plentiful." Loki's lips twitched into a sly smirk. "I imagine in Jotunheim, nothing is prosperous, not the land nor the men."
"Are you insulting me?!" The frost giant bellowed out.
"Are you honestly asking me that?" Loki raised his brow and offered a belittling glance at the man then to the round Jotunn woman besides him.
With rage etched into his features and hate in his heart the royal leaped from the throne to strike down Loki. The aggressive Jotunn slammed both feet into an empty patch of snow covered land.
"Are you crossed-eyed, your majesty? Because It appears you can't aim,." Loki spoke with false concern to his words.
"How?! How did you move so swiftly? I don't understand!" The blue skinned man shouted.
"A simple illusion," Loki responded with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Shame on you! Have you citizens no respect for your ailing king! He still breaths however you've already accepted another on a false throne!" An ancient-looking Jotunn woman with cascading curly, gray, hair declared to the onlookers. Their heads dropped in disgrace and the man who was about to battle Loki fell to his knees. He apologized to the woman profusely.
Loki clasped his hands behind his torso and noted the change in the atmosphere. The older woman walked in half-steps to him. Her leisurely pace reminded him of his own. She was little for a frost giant yet reached Loki's chin.
Without any introductions she hooked her arm with his and proceeded to guide him towards the spacious ice-caves. Her head wobbled up and down while they walked, as if she was agreeing with no one in particular. Jotunn maidens giggled at the pair.
"Have you been told about the faded bloodline?"
"I have not," He answered politely. He felt no need to give this shrunken frost giant any disrespect.
She patted his arm. "Oh! Then I must share. Yes, yes, I must. Once there was a Jotunn who - -"
"That will be all, Golah,"A booming voice echoed from the cave.
Loki peered out to capture a glimpse of the voice's owner.
The throne he had seen once he entered Jotunheim was tiny in comparison to the throne before him now. It was adorned with sapphire and carved with spells. It created the illusion of a throne that floated mid-air, this was due to its base being molded from clear ice.
The elderly woman reluctantly detached herself from Loki's arm then exited the true throne room. The frost giant before him wore many marks embedded upon his skin.
"I take it you're Laufey? " Loki inquired.
The monster offered a whisper of a chuckle then beckoned his guest closer with a faint gesture of his hand.
"I'd be courteous however that resulted in a fight earlier," Loki announced as his gaze absorbed his surroundings.
"Haha, bestow him with your forgiveness and his heart will gradually blossom to love you. "
"Forgive who? That brute? When he threw the first stone?" The outrage in Loki's voice was evident.
"In nature brothers shall constantly brawl. Having had brothers in Asgard, one would consider you to be knowledgeable of it first hand. Is that not the case my son?" The beast spoke to his fidgeting guest.
A miserable snarl crawled onto Loki's features at the mention of brothers. He turned to walk towards a figure of a woman sculpted from pure ice.
"Am I expected to call you my father? I won't, Laufey."
The soft chuckle crept out of the monarch's chest while he covered his mouth with his wide hand. He whizzed unexpectedly.
"Have I said something amusing, Laufey?" Loki spat the words.
"In fact you had, my misguided son." The King dragged himself off his throne and took to standing next to his son to admire the ice sculpture.
"Isn't she a wonderful beauty?" The king asked with an endearing glimpse to the lady made of ice.
Loki narrowed his eyes and attempted to study the detailed piece. He peered into those enchanting orbs.
"She's beautiful, for a Fr- - a Jotunn." He corrected himself.
The king rested a shaking hand on the sculpture's face.
"This is our realm's fallen hero. This is Laufey, your mother and my first wife. The proud Asgardians never wished to admit their near defeat to a woman; thus over the years they called Laufey the king when in truth she was a Queen and I, her husband."
The prince shook his head. He denied what his ears heard.
"What fool do you take me to be? Laufey is a ruthless man. Odin called me Laufeyson!"
"Loki understand this, in our realm a child takes after his mother's name. We Jotunn mimic wolves, as in our females usually lead. They hold more power than our males, rightfully so. They carry and nourish our young while they hunt. Males merely gather and hunt."
"If this is Laufey, then who might you be?" Loki leaned in closer with his hands locked behind his back.
"I am Fárbauti, a royal from the second biggest tribe in Jotunheim. I married Laufey for selfish reasons,"he murmured in a crushed tone.
The puzzled youth swallowed then whispered in a shaky voice;
"Had you loved her?"
"Ah at the time, I only lusted after her. With the birth of Býleistr then you, I came to fall madly in love with her. Soon you too will give in to your urges and take a wife." He spoke honestly.
"I am more than a mere animal set off by the instinct to breed! I, unlike you, will cease this filthy bloodline." Loki's hostile beliefs gushed out with those words.
He waited to be beaten, scolded or even exiled from the frozen kingdom, however he received an eerie laugh from its king.
"I can not prevent you from harboring such resentment for your own blood. I can however ask if Odin told you why he insisted that you marry of your own race?"
"This isn't my father's doing. You threatened war!" Loki shouted.
"IF I was refused a glimpse of my son. The truth is, I hadn't mentioned any such union. I'm well aware of the heart's of young men. They need to pick the one they desire without the interference of fading kings like myself or your beloved father Odin."
"You're lying,"Loki said tight-lipped.
"How absurd, I have no reason to," Fárbauti spoke gently, then added; "Nevertheless you've already forced my hand. I should not voice the private matters agreed upon by kings. I will stop, dare I upset you. " He laced his fingers together and stared at his second-born.
"I deserve to know the truth. Offer me insight into Odin's true thoughts, father." Loki granted his estranged parent the words he ached to hear.
The manipulative prince never cared to play honorably.
"Hmm, Odin feared for the princess you'd marry. He didn't believe a normal woman would accept her own child if it was part Frost Giant. He proclaimed such a future isn't fair to you. He continued to emphasize the abandonment both you and any child produced from the union would endure. He stated that it could be avoided, if only you were required to take a frost giant as your bride."
Morgana Le Fay
The irony wasn't lost on her. She'd been the cordial wife yet was subjected to crude remarks that were deserving of a courtesan. It hadn't helped that her defenders, six knights in total that Arthur left to care for her, now threatened physical abuse if she didn't return to her wedding bed. The shameful knights viewed Morgana's exchange of vows more of a service sold to the Crown Prince of Asgard, rather than a true marriage.
Her refusal to stay with her husband after a handful of hours into the exchange fueled Camelot's young knights' tempers. In their eyes she was an insolent little brat who wouldn't give her husband what he had a right to. They circled her like hounds on a fox and gradually tried to crack at her value.
Insults and lewd looks over her clothed figure had her considering crossing her arms to shield herself from their judgmental glances, though she decided against it. She stood with her chin held high and her hands on her hips. If they dared to touch her then she was forced to curse them without reserve. Her secret would be exposed, however she felt she hadn't any other options.
She was casually attired in suede trousers and her leather traveling boots. A sealed golden locket hung low around her neck. Her wedding gown was discarded in the impressive fireplace within the guest room, much like her trust in her husband.
When the six men shouted and flipped over the dining table to frighten Morgana, they made an uncontrolled echo throughout the palace. It, unbeknownst to them, ushered in her savior. The gallivant man kicked down the door and battled the knights. They fell like rotted fruit from a thriving tree. They grunted, groaned, and pleaded which spared them anymore harm.
The man grabbed at her wrist then withdrew from the trembling cowards at his feet. He dashed across the golden stairways while Morgana's lips reluctantly changed into a triumphing smile. He opened an iron door then entered. She followed into the humid chamber, only to see a well crafted armor, shields, swords and a thriving fire.
"A blacksmith's station within the palace!?" She voiced her surprise.
The clank of heavy metal had her spinning to witness the prince's abandonment.
"Baldr!" She shouted and slammed both her palms against the metal barrier.
"I'm ever so sorry, Morgana."
"Release me this instant!" She commanded.
He sighed and answered;
"I'm merely following orders, princess. You understand?"
"Thor's I reckon,"She said.
"No, Queen Frigga, she wished to have a sit down with you. She understands your sense of betrayal," Baldr stated kindly.
"She couldn't!" Morgana yelled.
No response greeted her. She hit the door repeatedly as she called out to her captor. An agitated grunt from behind startled her. She whirled in her spot to glimpse into bloodshot hazel eyes. The uninvited man had a vile smell on his breath and straws of hay stuck out of his untidy hair.
"Tyr?" She whispered.
"Ah, princess," he murmured as he gave a clumsy bow.
"You're drunk." She crossed her arms then added; "have you heard my unfortunate news?"
"Nah, I tumbled into here after the celebration," Tyr confessed while he gaped at her.
Morgana retreated backwards in slow strides. Her skin followed the faint heat from the roaring fire.
"Are you leaving Thor?"
" I - -"
"Perfect! I wish that bitch had done the same all those years ago."
Morgana's brows knitted in confusion.
"Who?" She asked softly.
She stood adjacent to the wall with the fireplace to her right.
Tyr punched his fist into the wall, he grazed Morgana's left ear, she flinched. He leaned closer and inspected the worried woman. He breathed heavily.
"Frigga, the thief. My mother was with Odin on his wedding night when that hypocrite walked in. Frigga saw my parents were happy and she decided to leave. Sadly she had a fucking change of heart before she reached the gates!"
Tyr paused and slid his rough hand down Morgana's cheek. He mumbled something cryptic then continued.
"You see if she did the right thing back then I-I-I would have been the crown prince. Thor wouldn't exist!" He screamed with a pitiful sob.
Without warning he crushed her lips with his as his hand slid down.
The revolting kiss had her mentally mocking herself for allowing such a drunk near. When he groped at her breast through the fabric, Morgana's eyes flashed gold and Tyr thrashed backwards, a familiar fire burned. Quick to get back on his feet he placed his hand on a metal anvil only to scream in agony. He heard her whisper;
"Swine."
He watched as the flesh of his right hand sizzled with the blacksmith's signature. Morgana branded him with a rod from the flames, much like cattle.
"I curse you, Tyr Odinson to a life of fear; till my kin hunt you down and retrieve your offensive hand for me."
He sweated and sent a loathsome gaze her way.
The Fall:
With a thud that made the ground beneath her curve from impact she cried out in pain. She questioned her sanity at that moment due to her reckless decision. Nevertheless she was thankful to have elected to wear the upper half of armor.
Prior to her descent from Asgard she stole a unique Midgardian armor from the blacksmith's display. The armor's helmet and torso had taken a beating from the collision. She hadn't worn the lower half since it was far too long limbed for her body.
She frequently attempted to stand but couldn't. She shouted at the top of her lungs from her injuries, just as she crumbled to the welcoming dirt. She lifted the visor on the helmet to witness the gray murky sky, rain was coming.
She shut the visor then was suddenly aware of her dented armor. The metal pressed her chest in uncomfortably. Her breathing suffered the more she pondered it over.
Finally she managed to pull herself up on one knee. Her trembling body fought her to no avail. She registered a faint sound of rattles and snickers in the distance, they multiplied.
Morgana comprehended the danger she could be in and tugged on the golden locket around her neck.
With a shaky grip she carefully opened the locket to stare at the dark hair. She breathed in then muttered;
"I call on my favor, Raven."
The sound of crushing twigs grew louder.
Her heartbeat escalated and she murmured in a pleading tone;
"Keep your promise dear bird, return to me." She dug her sword into the dry soil.
Nothing happened.
Her deceptive idleness gave her the appearance of a warrior made of stone, a lifeless being when she was anything but.
An unwanted ringing crept into her head. She reasoned that it resulted from her collision, though it persisted, only on her right side.
"What is the cause of such a hideous echo in my armor?" She voiced.
"At last you've noticed me, witch." The bird sighed.
She twisted her head right and left, yet was unable to see him.
"Where? Where are you, dear bird?" She whispered.
"On your helmet. My beak hurts from knocking." He flapped his wings and answered.
The princess' features were hidden underneath her helmet when she gave her winning smile.
"Assist me."
"What do you suggest I do ?" he asked while he landed in front of her.
"Fight by my side," she said.
The concealed princess slowly moved to stand at her full height when someone grasped her elbow and lent her their strength.
Morgana's eyes peered at the tall stranger in an armor that matched her own. He lacked the protective helmet and the shield she held. He favored her with a crooked smile and blinked.
"If I'm to be a member of your army then I must look the part, wouldn't you agree?" he said.
"Is this your true form?" she asked.
"It might be," he responded mysteriously.
"Share your name with me before we're ambushed."
"Why should I bother when you hadn't the decency to summon me with the one I gave you last time?" His lips grew into a brittle smile.
"But I called you raven!"
"When I clearly asked to be summoned by Magpie."
Creatures drew closer and the pair readied themselves.
"Oh you ridiculous bird, won't you forgive me for my forgetfulness? I won't misplace the name you tell me now," she assured him.
"No. You name me so you shan't forget it and I in turn, will name you."
They fought vigilantly, he with his bare hands while she used the aid of the sword and shield.
Upon her shield three wicked ravens rested. When all was done with, she looked toward the sorcerer to ask;
"What name do you bestow upon me?"
He rolled his shoulders back and stared above when the first droplets of rain caressed his face.
"Sigyn," he answered.