Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel-characters!
AN: Thanks for the reviews, you guys. It is so awesome to read them and they keep me on my toes. There is no fooling you because you are all too brilliant. A reviewer (angrbodagiantess, thanks for you amazing kindness!) was telling me that my chapters are kinda short and I agree so I decided to make a nice long one. I actually tried a bit of a different writing style (tell me if you like it, hate it, didn't really notice a difference) and so I ended up with a chapter of nine pages. I found that too long (yeah, I'm not easily satisfied) so I split it in half and here is the first part. Yes, it ends with a cliffhanger (don't hate me), but because you're all super awesome, I am going to post chapter 14 (AKA part two) tomorrow. Is that a good deal?
~ Fields of Blood ~
Chapter 13
There wasn't a perfect way to describe how Frigga was feeling at this very moment. She couldn't quite describe it herself. A part of her felt torn over the fact that she had simply left the palace. Granted, she had promised her youngest son, but perhaps she should have broken that promise. Another part of her was angry with herself, with the world, but mostly with the men currently attacking her home. Then she felt partially guilty because she had simply gotten out of bed and walked away. She should have stayed like everyone else to fight.
Then again, what would have been the point of staying to fight? It wasn't like she was the young warrior princess she used to be. She was always reminded of herself whenever she saw Sif. She, too, had once been a fierce, strong and stubborn woman like Thor's lady friend. She could once easily stand her ground. Not anymore, though, but who could blame her? She was getting old and she had lost her speed and agility. She would have been an easy target for the enemy.
In truth, she was mostly confused as she stood just outside of the inner city. She still had a clear view of the palace since it stood out like a beacon of light in the black night. Only now its windows were mostly broken, parts of the mighty walls appeared to be collapsing and even from this far, she could ever so slightly hear her people inside of the palace scream and shout. She wondered how many guards were already dead. Had the servants made it out of there?
With pain in her heart she thought of her husband. Was he still alive? Had Arta killed him? Frigga hadn't seen any of the attackers, but she was intelligent enough to deduce that this was Arta's doing. Then she thought of Thor and she was certain he would find until the end. What if he was dead? And what about Loki? What had happened to her poor, young boy? Was he still alive?
Her heart bled when she thought of her family. She had abandoned them when they need her most.
"My Lady?"
Frigga spun around and only now was she aware that she was crying. She angrily wiped her tears away and straightened her back. She was still a queen and she refused to give up already. Nothing was lost yet. Right? Right.
She stood facing the uncertain figure of Mýr, Loki's servant who had been waiting for her at the end of the secret tunnel. Frigga knew Loki doted on the servant since they had been friends since childhood. Frigga had often been concerned about Loki when he'd been younger because he was…well, she wouldn't say he was different. He was different than Thor, yes, but that meant nothing. Thor surrounded himself with friends and Loki had always preferred the silence of books.
One day, however, many years ago, she had meant to speak to Loki about that. She had wanted to ask him if he didn't want to join his brother outside with the Warriors Three and Sif. She had walked into the library, ready to address her youngest when she had heard him laughing. She didn't often hear Loki laughing, so she had stopped dead in her tracks. When she'd approached her son a few moments later, she had found him playing with the very servant standing before her now.
It had been on that day - when Loki had only been about eleven - that she no longer worried about him. Not about him being lonely or different anyway. And now Mýr stood before her and Frigga vowed to herself to keep that boy safe much like she knew Mýr had vowed to Loki to keep her safe.
"We need to move, my Lady," Mýr added. His blue eyes pierced Frigga's gaze. He clearly respected his queen, but he also looked strangely determined. "It is not safe here."
"It's not safe anywhere," Frigga replied instantly, "it won't be safe anywhere if we do nothing. We have to turn back and help our friends and the king."
It wasn't Mýr who replied, but Ulfr, the guard Loki had sent along with her. "We can't," he said insecurely, "we would be walking straight into the enemy's hands."
"I won't leave anyone behind," Frigga argued with a hint of frustration in her voice. She understood Mýr and Ulfr were trying to protect her, but she would have none of it right now. She was queen and she made the decisions. "I am going back. I will not force the two of you to join me. That is your choice."
She doubted these two men – more boys in her opinion – would allow her to return to the palace alone. In truth, she was coercing them, but she didn't exactly feel guilty about it. She had always been good at manipulating others – a gift she mostly used for good purposes – and she had always been surprised Loki had picked up the same tricks. Only Loki was far better at the manipulative games. Frigga didn't know whether to be proud of that fact, or concerned.
Mýr answered swiftly and said, "We won't leave you".
"But let us at least wait until morning," Ulfr added with newfound strength. He even conjured a smile on his boyish face. Frigga guessed he was about Thor's age, but he appeared far more in control of himself. Thor has always been an impulsive boy. "We need rest and then we must find weapons. We won't be any good inside of the palace carrying nothing but a sword and two daggers."
"I have a dagger, too," Mýr added hopefully.
"Like I said," Ulfr's voice held a hint of despondency, "we won't be much good."
"Then what do you suggest?" Frigga asked promptly.
"The palace was attacked at night for a reason," Ulfr replied, his voice only holding respect, "it is only at night it becomes most vulnerable. There are only guards stationed at strategic points, but whoever attacked easily eliminated them. However, that also means most guards are now at home with their families for the night."
Frigga knew where Ulfr was going with this, but she allowed him to explain since obviously Mýr had no idea where this conversation was heading.
"There are protocols for times like these," Ulfr continued, "and all the remaining guards and soldiers will gather in the morning. They will have weapons and they will have a plan to conquer the palace once again."
"You can lead them, my Lady," Mýr said, eyes filled with confidence.
Frigga felt strangely satisfied. "I will."
~ 0 ~
It was pointless to struggle, Loki knew this, but he still wanted to try if only it was to prove a point. That point being that he was done being submissive. He was done being afraid and he was donefollowing Arta's every command. He was done being a pathetic weakling. So Loki threw his legs around, hoping he could at least kick someone in the stomach. He flailed his arms around and he felt a grin break his face in half when the back of his hand hit someone's nose.
He continued to struggle even after the savages guiding him away tightened their grip on his limbs. His back was killing him and his nose ached because when he'd let Arta enter the palace, a savage had walked up to him and beaten him. After that, Loki had been too dazed to do anything and before he understood what had been happening, he had been dragged into the throne room before a kneeling Odin and Thor.
Loki felt ashamed when he thought about them. He had betrayed them and now there was nothing he could do to help them. Or perhaps he could help them if only he managed to escape somehow. That was another reason why he struggled so. A small part of him hoped he could escape even though chances were very slim. Closer to nonexistent really.
After a few long minutes, Loki noticed that he was back in the hallway that would lead them towards his personal chambers. He wasn't really sure how these men knew his personal chambers were this way, but he didn't really bother to ponder about it either. Most likely, this hallway had already been raided and you didn't have to be a genius to know the chambers up ahead belong to a prince. It is filled with books and green curtains so naturally it wouldn't be Thor's chambers, would they?
Two savages pushed open the doors of his bedchamber before the other two savages who were currently holding Loki pushed him inside rather unceremoniously. Loki toppled forward and nearly lost his balance, but he managed to stay standing on his two feet. A sharp pang of pain shot through his back, but he bit down on his tongue, refusing to make a sound.
"Our Lord will be here shortly," one of the savages said. Loki glared at them, making sure that no weakness lay evident in his gaze. "Don't try anything foolish while you're in here."
The doors closed and Loki was locked inside his own bedchamber. He was all alone and finally he dared to let out a pained and bitter sigh. He placed his hands in his sides and pressed his fingers hard onto his skin. With much difficulty, he sucked in a deep breath. He felt physically weak and the edges of his vision held dark spots.
He was tired and he longed for sleep, but he knew now wasn't the time to rest. In a feeble attempt to make him feel better, he opened the doors that lead onto his balcony. Cold air flowed into his chamber and Loki sucked in a deeper breath. His lunges protested against the uncomfortable feeling of the icy air, but he did feel better now. He felt more alert.
Cheerlessly, he gazed into the city. Lots of houses were still dark and it was strange to think that even though so much was happening, most of the people had no idea of these events. They were all sleeping peacefully while a small war was happening within the walls of this palace. Then he remembered his mother was out there somewhere with Mýr and a random guard and Loki felt content with that thought.
He didn't know how much time passed in the end, but after a while – when the sun was just starting to rise again – the doors to his bedchamber opened. Loki turned around to face Arta. The old man looked just as tired as Loki felt, but his eyes still confidence and dominance.
Loki couldn't help but imagine himself ripping that man's head off. He despised him. Loathed him and felt abhorred by him. He wanted to kill him with his bare hand or perhaps torture him a bit first. Wouldn't that be fair after all? Wouldn't that be justice?
None of that could happen, however, for Arta had something that would save Loki's life.
"You told me you would give me the cure," Loki said, hoping he sounded determined and strong. If only he felt that way.
Arta smiled wryly. The first time Loki ever laid eyes on that man, he had thought him to be kind. Then again, he hadn't really been in a right state of mind so who could blame him for making such a horrid mistake? But Arta had shown him kindness at first. He had offered him food and milk after three days of torture.
None of that kindness or warmth now lay in his eyes.
"I am a man of my word," Arta replied apathetically. He stepped forward and Loki watched how five savages accompanying their master mimicked his every move. They were like his pathetic, soulless lapdogs and Loki stared daggers at them. Arta extended his hand and a small flask with red fluid inside lay in his palm. "Here it is. Here is the prize for which you have not only betrayed your king, but your family as well."
Loki snatched the small flask out of Arta's hand and without hesitating, he downed the content. It tasted foul and a bit sour, but Loki swallowed it down anyway. It felt as if pleasant warmth spread through his veins and the pain of his back eased away instantly. It was reduced to a throbbing ache that you could easily forget about if you just focused on something else.
"A few days is all it will take," Arta said when Loki wasn't about to react to his hurtful words, "then your wounds will be nothing more than thin scars. However, there is a downside to this all."
Loki frowned apprehensively. Had he been tricked again? He already hated that idea. He was supposed to be the god of mischief, but every time he crossed paths with that man, he was tricked himself. Then again, Loki's tricks were mostly innocent, mischievous plots for laughs. He liked playing games and messing with people's heads, but never would he dream of harming someone like this (with the exception of Arta now; it was only logical he wanted to pick his eyes out with a needle, right?).
"A downside?" Loki echoed carefully.
"You were able to use your magic all this time, only you didn't because that probably deteriorated the wounds on your back," Arta explained, his uptight gaze never leaving Loki, "I'm sure you were in excruciating pain the first time you used magic again."
Loki narrowed his eyes.
"But now your wounds are healing and should you use magic, you won't feel any side-effects," Arta concluded. With one wave of his hand, four of the five savages stepped forward. They grabbed Loki who shrieked involuntarily.
Loki had no idea what was going on and he did contemplate on using magic. However, how was he supposed to do that? He wasn't all-powerful and he couldn't just send those men flying backwards. The best he could do was float a coin and he doubted his assailants would be running the other way if he performed that trick for them. Loki vowed he would study magic as soon as this nightmare had ended. He refused to remain a victim like this.
There was one thing he could do in order to show his protest, however. He was still holding the small flask and so he used all his strength to throw it at the attacker closest to him. You could say whatever you wanted about Loki, but no one could ever deny his good aim. The flask hit the man's eye perfectly and the man let go of Loki and stumbled back.
"You idiot," Arta barked. He turned to the remaining three savages. "Get him on the ground and hold his arms down."
Loki felt strangely smug and satisfied that he had managed to achieve the mini-counter-attack. It was his small victory that was the stepping stone to his further success. That was what he told himself because he refused to surrender so easily to Arta again. He would fight with all that he had.
That wasn't to say he was actually succeeding. The three men were rejoined by the fourth one and together they pushed Loki down until he finally lay on the ground. All he could move now was his head. Even though the cure had lessened the pain of his back, it still wasn't entirely healed and since those idiots were pressing him against a hard surface, the pain returned and Loki groaned without really wanting to.
"What are you doing?" Loki demanded to know. He was relieved to find his voice so strong and even.
This time, Arta's smirk did reach his eyes. He showed malice and when he spoke, his voice betrayed viciousness. "Relax, Loki, this will only hurt for a while," he said, then added, "I think."
AN: So this was part one. Part two will come tomorrow. But please don't let that hold you back of telling me what you thought of this chapter! What do you think of the new writing style? Did it give you more insight into what the characters are thinking? Did it suck?