"All-Father! Hveðrungr's children are upon us! "
The All-Father is frozen in place. Ragnarok is upon them, exactly like in the vision he had when he asked to be shown the future at the Well of Mimir. Soon the flame of Surtr will annihilate everything. Fenrir has broken free of his bonds, Jormungand is spraying his venom. The wolf and the snake are joining the sons of Muspell with their father. The one-eyed God barely recognizes his former lover in the smirking figure covered in gore.
He remembers the warmth of his pale skin when they shared the same bed, his unique smile which would enlighten him while his spouse sulked, the tricks they would play together and the battles they fought together. The pang of guilt when he awoke from a vision of Ragnarok and thought "He will still be there, but he will fight at my side. He is too much involved with me to switch sides; I've made sure of that." Their first time together is fresh as if it happened the day before.
"Not now, what your wife would say?" his pale jester said as the All-Father tried to cajole him from the banquet to his room.
"It's not the first time I lay with another, and certainly not the last, she would be blind not to know," he answered with a wink. "Oh please, is that a pout? As much as I love you, you know I can't be exclusive." – Fight his lies with truth, if needed I can always make a promise he wants to hear.
His lover smirked at him. "I just wanted you to say it so that I don't have to say it first and face your royal ire. I intend to remain free myself," he said before making a move to leave.
The All-Father grabbed him on the hips, not intending to let him go, "Stay". It was the only time he ever managed to order him. Behind his back, he Aesirs whispered, "Hveðrungr should never have been accepted among us, he is a thief and a liar, he doesn't even obeys the All-Father's orders." But he was confident. His little jester would always remain by his side.
It pains him to think he was so foolish, that he didn't see earlier what a snake he invited in his bed. He remembers his lover claiming Baldr's death was an accident and that it was only meant to be a jest in which he would receive a minor injury. He has never forgiven him. "If he is able to commit such a heinous crime as a jest, then he really is the monster I saw in my vision", the All-Father thought at that time. His little mischief-maker had died long before the time he bound him with his son's guts – a son for a son. Now he can't let that thing stay alive any more.
"Call for Heimdall" he orders.
Woden's vision from the time he drunk from the well of Mimir is still very fresh. Keeping his past mistakes in mind, he knows he must avoid cheating on his wife with a handsome pale man. But he wasn't prepared for the beauty Laufey and Farbauti brought during a diplomatic visit. She rejected his wooing with acid barbs. He learned in the meantime she was promised to the giant Angrboda. He knows he is foolish, but he finally gives the order. "Have him killed, burn his whole village if you have to."
#
"Have you heard of this strange story? The Laufeydottir is with child."
"Oh really? I thought her suitor was dead?"
"It is the strangest thing really, it is said she ate Angrboda's heart and she subsequently got pregnant with monsters."
"One more proof these giants are savages. We shouldn't negotiate with them when they are breeding monsters to destroy us."
Woden shivers. He suddenly has a very bad feeling about this.
#
"Who is the one leading the Snake and the Wolf? I've never seen him before but his face is familiar," Woden asks.
"I don't know All-Father, I shall ask Heimdall," a guard replies. Outside the world is falling apart, the flame of Muspellheim has been unleashed. Suddenly, the strange being he was looking at from afar is standing in front of him, sword in hand, with the giant wolf at his side.
"Know that your death came at the hand of the daughter of Laufey," he says as he raises his sword.
"You are Laufeydottir?"
"Oh yes, didn't you know I could shapeshift?" she answers in a smirk and whispers, "I know what you did to Angrboda, you foolish, greedy god. See the ruins you brought upon your race."
She suddenly has a sword piercing her chest. The loyal Gatekeeper came right on time. But she still stands and swings her sword in a desperate move to kill Woden. Heimdall interposes himself and receives the fatal blow instead. She looks at the wolf before drawing her last breath, at the same time as her killer. Woden doesn't stand a chance when the great wolf swallows him.
Somewhere on Midgard, a bearded man with a glass-eye screams awake from a nightmare –for it can only be a nightmare, he doesn't want it to be a memory. The day after, he is telling an anecdote happening centuries ago in that country to a laughing tourist he has just met in a café. His laugh makes his heart bleed as it reminds him of… something he doesn't want to think about.
#
"That was interesting, it's my first time here and I'm ashamed to admit I don't know much about the lore in this country," the younger one admits. "What is your name? Where are you staying? I'd love for us to meet again."
But the other man eludes the question. "Tell me your name first and I may tell you mine."
He laughs again and his laugh is light as a breeze when he answers, "Why are you acting so mysterious suddenly? Well, my name is Loptr L-"
The other one's shoulders tenses, and suddenly serious he interrupts him, "I am surprised you don't remember, Loptr. You were my friend back them. And you were the one who helped me stealing that necklace."
Wide-eyed from the surprise, Loptr takes a step back as he reconsiders the man in front of him. "Is that you Hangatyr? I thought you died alone, a long, long time ago," he says with a slight fear in his voice.
Hangatyr was a good friend but sometimes he would tell him a strange story, present it as a memory of a time they had together, and frown if Loptr insisted there was no way it had happened. One day Loptr heard his poet friend had hung himself on an ash tree and had pierced himself with a spear. As it seemed the Aesirs always deemed him responsible when something bad happened in the realm, he left. Since then, he has been living mostly on Vanaheim, studying and occasionally shapeshifting when visiting other realms.
"Oh no, not me" – I've been watching you from Hlidskjalf, I always knew what you were doing – "I never lost control…" he interrupts himself before admitting he got more involved in Loptr's life than what was healthy. After a pause he adds, "You're face to face with The Man Who Sold The World."
"Hangatyr, you have spent too long wandering on Midgard, it seems it went to your head," Loptr laughs again, presenting his hand for his former friend to shake it in the human way, which Hangatyr does without a thought.
"See? Well I guess I'll see you at this David Bowie concert tonight," he adds with a wink.
When Hangatyr opens his mouth to answer, Loptr is already gone, quick and intangible as the air he embodies, leaving the old god alone and frustrated. When he later tries to find him, he finds he has become invisible to his stare as well as Heimdall's. So he decides to form another bond with him. After all, they were such close friends, why not become blood-brothers and have Loptr free to stay in Asgard whenever he wishes?
#
Hangatyr wonders why he remembers this now. The fires of Ragnarok are consuming everything, fanned by Loptr's wind. He should have known friendship wouldn't cage the wind, when love had failed. He shouldn't have relied on his oath, on the blood-brothers bond they formed later. He should have known not to let his sentiments interfere, condemning Yggdrasil for one giant.
Wotan snaps out of the vision in horror. He won't let this happen. Now that he knows, he will avert it. He claims sovereignty over the wind and look for the bringer of Ragnarok. He doesn't expect him to be a half-god of fire this time. Knowing neither love nor friendship will bind him, and resentful for his past betrayals, he enthralls him and ties him to Gungnir, carving runes to enforce the contract in the shaft of his spear, a habit he will keep for all contracts to follow.
#
Now that the Twilight of the Gods is nearing, he realizes the extent of his foolishness. He could no more enslave the fire than he could cage the wind, Ring or not. When Loge gnawed the runes the runes of the shaft, Wotan confined him to a ring of fire, enforcing the punishment of his daughter Brunhilde. But a wood bird – which it could only be another trick of Loge - brought Siegfried to free Brunhilde, and when Wotan went to prevent him, Siegfried broke Gungnir in two, cancelling the old contracts. Since, a wall of wood got piled up around Valhalla and the old god waits for the end to come. Now, his ravens tell him what fate befell on Brunhilde.
"What did she say afterwards?" he asks in a weary voice.
"Pass by Brünnhilde's rock: direct Loge, who still blazes there, to Valhalla; for the end of the gods is nigh. Thus do I throw this torch at Valhalla's vaulting towers," the raven answers.
Loge is suddenly standing in front of him. In every cycle, he is a fickle sensual being. Wotan can't help wondering if in this cycle his loyalty and love were faked all along to escape his bounds. One never knows with Loge. Without a word, Wotan pierces his breast with the splinters of his broken shaft in a quick strike. Flames spring from the wound and eat the shaft as Loge flings himself at the piled logs of what used to be the world ash tree, a bright flame flaring in a way he only did before his thrall, such a beautiful sight.
Wotan closes his eye while a tear rolls on his cheek. The prospect of his death coming is a relief; it is time to pay the price of his mistakes, for the last time he hopes. Outside, Loge's fire is roaring amongst the shouts of the gods while Valhalla burns.
Odin finally awakes. The crucial battle against the Forst Giants is near. While getting dressed, he mentally recalls the parts of his plan. One of his longest cons, elaborated with great care in service of a glorious purpose: avoid Ragnarok.
#
Odin is holding a baby on Jotunheim. If he couldn't cage nor tame him, he will raise him as his own son. Tie him to Asgard by duty, bind him by filial love. A soft voice is whispering to his ear, "Are you sure you want to go to that extent?" Odin dismisses it. This time he won't lack conviction. He will have Loki and he will avert Ragnarök. The Ring has already altered fate after all. He laughs and shakes the tiny hand that grabbed his finger before heading back home.
#
Odin has just sent his son on Midgard to bring Loki back. He remembers when he was walking on earth, roaming for years and years, earning his title of Wanderer, getting fond of the humans and swearing to protect their realm. How could Loki… He is gazing at his reflection in the mirror, thinking of all the millions of years of his relationship with Loki throughout the cycles and realizes bitterly it has become corrupted beyond recovery. He whispers "We must have died alone a long, long time ago".
"Who knows? Not me," reply a voice he knows too well, even if its owner doesn't reflect on the mirror. "We never lost control. You're face to face with the God who Burned the Worlds."