The Final Act
Loki tilted his head to the side; his slender fingers move down the column of his neck. From the ice mirror of his vanity, he could see grey patches of dead flesh staining his skin and it was ever slowly spreading. An age ago, it had started with just little patches over the back of his hands, and then there were patches on his forearm, his torso, his neck and now there were faint patches of grey creeping up his face.
The dark seid that corrupts his blood, his soul… it is eating him away. He should be afraid at the extent it had consumed him, but he feels naught.
Let it eat him away. Let it rot his flesh from bones. Let it poison him from within. Let it devourer him…Let Hela come for him if she can…
"I prefer to have my nightmares with open eyes…" Loki reached for his rings within his marble jewel box. He picked one studded with emeralds.
The moment Laufey has been laid to rest in the tomb, nothing will save Asgard. Before his coronation in a hundred days, the once golden realm will burn; and he will be King despite all fate demands of him. Many have died for his insolence and many more will die. That is fine by him…
Be it mountain of corpses and rivers of blood, it will not stop him. His, will be a tale never to be forgotten. He is never nothing. He is Loki Laufeyjarson. And he refused to accept the cruel fate that was bestowed upon him.
"Fate will not be the architect of my torment…" Loki puts on another ring of deep ruby. "Fate will not be the architect of my failure…"
Be it that he is the God that will be punished to the end of times for his rebellion; he will also be the one God that defy the Norns and spit at their feet. He will be the God that commits the impossible, and laugh at last at the mocking face of fate and death.
There was a knock.
Loki turns his gaze towards the door. An illusion that was second nature by now slips over his skin and at once he was again the picture of power and authority.
"Enter" Loki said.
The door opens to reveal Farbauti don in ceremonial cloak of royal purple. A cloak of white hung from his forearm.
"Sire…" Loki greeted, standing to his feet.
"Come here Loki…" Farbauti beckons for the little prince. He knelt to one knee when Loki came to him.
There were gems weaved into Loki's jet black hair, ornamented earrings on his ears and golden rings on each of his fingers. His little face was stern, cold and stoic but his eyes burn with the flames of a thousand fires. The visage of a King.
Their eyes met.
"Look at you. Your dam would have been so proud" Farbauti smiled; although that was the last thing he felt like doing.
The scarring ceremony was supposed to be a joyous moment. The line of Kings would at long last be placed upon Loki.
A single tear trickled.
Loki lifted his hand to touch his sire's face.
"I will care for you. Do not weep. …" Loki said quietly. "Dam would not want you to weep"
"Aye my love…he would not…" Farbauti drapes the pristine white cloak over Loki's shoulder and fasten them gently with golden clasped.
"Sire…" Loki called. "For what they did to us…For their betrayal…I will see them burn. I will hear them scream. I will give you the liar's crown. I promise you that"
"I need not such promises. I need not revenge" Farbauti tells him. "You, alive, my child…that would mean more to me than a broken crown or a crumbled throne"
"You expect me to believe that you do not wish them dead?"
"No…I do not…I do wish them ill. But…" Farbauti ran his large hand over Loki's head. "Loki…things happen in life and it shapes us…our anger, our prejudice…our hatred…It makes us who we are. But it is the choices we make that define us"
"I have made my choice" Loki said. "I will not abandon my hate…my anger…because if I did, there would be nothing left of me. I have come too far for anything else…"
"Loki…you can stop…"
"I cannot…" Loki looked upon Farbauti. "I will not"
"…"
"Be it the bodies pile up endlessly, upon my throne of blood and bones, I will make Jotunheim the symbol of power and glory in the eyes of every realm. I will hurt every one of them that had hurt us. I will make slaves of their men and whores of their wives and children. I will make them suffer! I will have them tremble at the name of Jotunheim. I will make certain that no one will ever mock us or harm us again"
"And what would that make us?"
"You do not approve?"
Farbauti kisses Loki's cheek and stood to his feet. "Come now…Tonight let's not speak anymore of such grieve things"
"Forgive me…"
Loki followed Farbauti down the hall into the ceremonial chamber. Loki did not quite remember the oval room looking quite as it did - dark and bright, ghostly with a harsh cerulean glow and floating lights.
Their footsteps echoed through the hollow place. There were chanting in a slow soothing rhythm as he passed. And the mist was so thick that only the ivory dais that stood half a dozen priests at the end of the chamber was visible.
It felt as if he was back in the world of spirits, a timeless place between the fabrics of reality and fantasy. But every now and then, Loki could see the familiar enormous ice pillars that lined the chamber peeping from within the thick fog; reminding him that this is reality.
Loki stepped up the dais as Farbauti slips to the side, behind the row of priests that moved to surround him.
Rows and rows of candles as far as eyes could see burn hungrily behind them.
Loki closes his eyes and spread his arms on either side of him as his ivory cloak fell away, leaving him naked.
There were soft clinks of metal. Blades…
One priest held each of his wrists and a large hand ran down the small of his naked back.
"Watch me Norns...watch me… and curse helplessly in your anger…punish me in death, I fear it not…" Loki took in a deep breath as he felt the sharp point of a dagger to his shoulder blade. "You say to me that I am not meant to rule. To be Loki is to be fated to lose…You say to me that you have seen so many iterations of me in all the universe that are as numerous as the stars in the gatekeeper's eyes…but never in one had you seen me rule…You will see now. The hour is near...Peel the scales from your eyes…and see…see my people worship in love of me…."
Pain sheered when the metal dug into his flesh. He gritted his jaws, tight, as the metal sliced him open. Red of blood trickled and burn...
The city folks are moving out of the golden city in the thousands every hour, in carts, wagons and horses; for those who still have them that is; the rest, by foot with a sack on their back. When the sun sets on this day, landmines would be set up surrounding the city and the doors will be barred. No one will be coming or leaving anymore.
The sound of banging steel could be heard night and day as the blacksmiths spits out weapons from their workshop faster than they had ever. The city walls are being fortified; cracks and defects seen to at once. The iron doors strengthened.
Baldur did not shed a single tear when he got on his wagon. He is an Odinson after all.
"He will live for his people…He will fight for them and one day return Asgard to her glory…" Thor knows or so he hoped, as he watched the wooden wagon leave the palace ground.
"He will be alright" Frigga placed a hand over his arm.
"You should leave too" Thor place a hand over hers. "The Jotuns will come, and soon"
"This place was where I was born and where I grew up"
"The gates will not hold"
"Then we will show the realms the face of courage my son" Frigga smiles gently.
All knew the war is lost. And all there is left for those that stayed in the city is one last fight, to go out in a blaze of glory.
"Aye" Thor kisses her over the top of her head. "We will. We will…"
Thor returns to his study soon after. There was a knock on the door when dinner time came around.
He lifted his gaze from the latest reports when a servant poked her head through the door.
"Should I bring your dinner my King?"
"Aye…And have the guards bring the Jotun Prince to me" Thor tells her. "I will dine with him"
It was a promise to Baldur that he would dine with the Jotun prince. Or rather the Jotun pet as the Aesir guards would say.
It was about a half hour after the food had been brought in that Helblindi showed up.
His chains clinked as he was walked towards Thor with half a dozen guards beside him. His bone pale locks were neat and braided and he smelled of scented soap. He was donned with new furs too. No doubt the guards had made sure their prisoner was clean before being presented to him. It was good sense.
Thor dismissed the guards and offered Helblindi a seat across from him.
"Are you well Prince?" Thor asked, once the prince had settled.
Helblindi shrugged.
"Hungry?"
Helblindi said nothing, not even looking at the food laid before him.
Thor heaved a sigh. He could not blame Helblindi for refusing to speak. Not after everything…
"Please…" Thor motioned to the food.
Helblindi did as he was bid and no more. He did not seem suspicious at the sudden generosity or even question it. Or rather, he had simply given up caring.
Thor watched the Jotun Prince through dinner as he attempted and failed to make small talks in an effort to fill the uncomfortable silence. The news of Laufey's death seems to have broken something in the prince.
Guilt started welling in him.
He could not safe Laufey. But as far as Helblindi is concern, his King died in the midst of a battle that broke. Thor couldn't bring himself to tell Helblindi the truth. He wondered now however, if he should have fabricated a better tale or better yet, not inform the prince at all.
He took a sip of his wine as Helblindi picked at his peas, which were the only thing left on his plate.
Thor felt guilty again. Before it did not seem like Helblindi had much green on his plate. So to be helpful, he had scoped some from the bowl for Helblindi. Those some peas had ended up drowning the Prince's steak in a sea of green. Helblindi had frowned at that but otherwise said nothing.
"I apologize for the peas" Thor eyed the leftover greens that were now being taken on an adventure around Helblindi's plate.
"It's fine" Helbindi croaked.
"You do not have to finish them. Forgive me if it is not to your taste"
"No…It's not that…"
"…"
"I… I count my blessings for the simple fact that…that there is food. My dam…umm…he…" His fingers tightened over the silver; his lungs constricted. "He…he taught us that…since well, there isn't much on Jotunheim…and now…I think there would be less… I'm just…just…"
He is not making sense he knows and if he doesn't stop speaking soon, he was going to cry. He doesn't want to. Not in front of an Aesir King!
"I…I'm just not hungry" Helblindi puts down his fork.
"I understand"
Silence fell again.
Thor went back to his plate. He shouldn't have said anything at all. It was stupid.
The meal was almost done when unexpectedly Helblindi spoke again.
"Do you hate him for all that has happen?" He asked quietly.
"It is not that simple"
"He slew your King and started a war that destroyed your realm. How can you not loath him?"
"All you say is true" Thor admits. "But even for all his wickedness, for all his folly and betrayal…I cannot imagine never meeting him and I would not want to...Be it for better or worst…I would not be who I am today if not for him. And I will change nothing, even if I were given the chance"
"You love him" Helblindi said.
Thor neither confirms nor denies the claim.
Helblindi went on. "You should know Son of Odin…Love alters nothing"
"…"
"Love will not change who he is. It does not chase away his ambition or anger or the yearning for power. It conquers neither death nor fear. To hope it would, is the height of foolishness and arrogance! It is not a miracle drug no matter how much you wish for it. No matter how greatly you want it to be true. No matter how desperately you pray it to be so"
There was bitterness and anger in the Jotun's tone. Thor could guess why.
It is a different battle, a different pain, a different torment that only deepens with time when you love someone who hates himself; when you love someone Hel bend on destroying himself and there is nothing you can do, as you watch helplessly where you stand. But…
"To hope is not arrogance or the height of stupidity" Thor said. "It is a beautiful thing. A powerful thing that no one can ever take from you if you would not let them…It is the basis of strength, courage, determination and vision. It is hope that wakes you day after day and keeps you moving forth even when it seems the world is against you. It is hope that keeps you dreaming. It is hope that keeps you believing that your suffering, despair, helplessness and failures of today will not be your tomorrow. And I tell you truly, without hope, there is nothing…without hope, we are dead"
"..."
"It is never foolish to hope, my Prince. But if it is, I would gladly be a fool"
Helblindi smiled, not unkindly. "So you do not believe war was always inevitable from the beginning? You do not believe that we are fated to destroy each other? That this atrocity will not end, this cycle of hate will not cease as long as the realm of fire and ice exist as two?"
"I do not" Thor said. "Because I cannot believe that"
Laufey was laid upon a stone slab in the middle of the throne room. Large golden cloth that glittered beneath the light of a dying flame was placed over King's body. Ringlets of gold adorned Laufey's horns, along with golden earrings and chains around his neck. The wound had been stitched and cleaned that only the trained eye would still see it if they looked upon the once King.
The last candle burn at the altar set by the dais.
When Tyr left the throne room having paid his respect to his once King, there was only about an inch left that jutted from the pool of white melted wax.
Once the candle had burnt out, it would mark the seventh day since the death of the King. Then it would be time to move the body into the tomb. And once that is done, Loki would return to Asgard for the last stretch of the war.
While Byleistr had named Thor the hand that killed Laufey, there were holes in the tales that even the most foolish of the courts would have seen through its fabricated nature. Tyr could not tell if it was intentional, or if Byleistr was confused or if it was simply not a very good tale as hurriedly made up ones often aren't.
He hears hush whispers wherever he went.
Indeed there were some who agreed that it was Thor who murdered Laufey, but many did not. The Aesir King was too honorable to play such games. There were whispers that it was Frigga herself who did it with her sorcery; while others name Loki and some still name Byleistr himself.
They did not dare say it to either prince's face of course.
"Not yet" Tyr thought.
Truth be told, Tyr did not think Byleistr killed Laufey. If anyone knew the third prince even a little, they would know that Byleistr hungers for Laufey's approval; craves his dam's attention that the prince had always thought was so readily poured onto Loki and chased after the love that he thought was always Loki's to toss aside…
Byleistr may want the throne, but it is not in him to kill his dam for it.
Byleistr's room was dark and it stunk of alcohol, drugs and sex when Tyr went to him.
The General let his scarlet gaze graze the messy room. Empty bottles of wine and mead were everywhere. There were broken glasses on the icy ground, spills of what looked to be wine, numerous pills on the messy table, stains of blood on the fur covered bed and ropes tied to the bedpost.
Byleistr sat by the lancet window, gazing blankly over the snowy plain beneath. His ivory hair was a right mess that tangled with his horns. He did not even turn to look at Tyr or gave any indication that he knew the other was in the room.
Tyr cleared his throat. "My Prince, you summoned me?"
"To me Tyr" Byleistr rasped.
Tyr did as he was told.
Byleistr reached out to take Tyr's hand, turning his translucent red eyes to the General.
The prince stunk of alcohol and Tyr noticed that the surrounding of Byleistr's eyes was a little swollen; tears stained his cheeks and there were rope burns on his wrists. Tyr said nothing.
"You have always stood by me. Only you…" Byleistr draws Tyr close to him as he stood to his unsteady feet. His fingers reached to caress Tyr's cheek.
Tyr frowned; gently pushing Byleistr's hand away. "My prince, you are upset"
"That may be, but it does not discount the truth"
"Yes. But now is not the time"
"Why?" Byleistr reached for Tyr's breaches.
"No" Tyr pushes at the prince's insistent hands.
"I know you want it!" Byleistr tugs at Tyr's furs.
"That's enough!"
Byleistr crashed his lips against Tyr, kissing him insistently. They struggled, shoving and pulling. Tyr growled, tearing his lips away only to have Byleistr almost pulling his furs off.
"Byleistr!"
"I need you. I want your hands on me. I want you in me!"
"Stop it!" Tyr seizes Byleistr's stubborn hands, holding them hard against his chest.
Byleistr struggled against him.
"You are making a fool of yourself!"
"You want me!" Byleistr growled.
"Yes I do! But not now!" Tyr snapped. "Not like this! Never like this!"
Byleistr cease his struggling. Translucent red eyes glaring into blood red ones.
"Byleistr, this is not right. Your dam…" Tyr took a deep breath. "It will not be respectful"
Byleistr snorted. "I never took you for a man of honor"
"My prince, if this is why you have summoned me, I would ask to leave"
Tyr may be many things, but rapist is not one. Intoxicated; Byleistr is incapable of giving his consent. Adding to that, he is mourning. What the prince needs now is comfort. Not sex.
Byleistr hissed, wrenching his hands free. "So now even you stand against me"
"Do not be malicious. You know how I feel about you"
"Do I?!"
"…"
"I once thought I knew" He admitted. "But I am not so sure anymore"
"Byle-"
"Do you love me?" Byleistr cuts in.
"You ask that which you already know"
"And yet you will never be mine alone. Is a prince not enough for you? What am I to you? Will you die for me?"
Tyr heaved a sigh.
"Byleistr, I am hardly one known for faithfulness. And you will be laughed at in court if I were to leave my mate for you. A prince, pining desperately for another's mate…and one that had probably bedded half the castle. Everyone's trash in a manner of speaking… You know this. But if you ask if I will die for you…then I say this to you. I am yours. My sword and my shield are yours. And I will gladly give my life for you if need be. I serve you"
"And will you serve me still if I command you to murder the crown prince?"
Tyr stilled. Words of loyalty were stuck in his throat. A cruel smile curled over Byleistr's lips at Tyr's silence.
"Oh look how far your loyalty for me goes" He sneered; moving unsteadily to the wine cabinet to uncork the last of the wine bottle.
"You know not what you speak" Tyr gritted. "And in any case, this is Loki. To try is suicide!"
"Even the mighty will fall when you put a blade through their heart or poison in their cup" Byleistr turns to Tyr, taking a large gulp of wine. "We may worship royalties like Gods on Jotunheim…but I assure you, we die just like everyone else. Have a peek into the throne room. There lies your once King"
"Watch your tongue!"
Byleistr laughs. "Long live the King!" He raised his cup and toasted mocking before downing the entire goblet in a motion.
Tyr could feel his anger creeping. The procession is to happen within the next few hours at most and Byleistr is drunk and probably high. Not to mention before Laufey could even be laid to rest, the prince was already spewing these treacherous words of usurping the throne.
"Do you fancy a drink Lord Tyr?" Byleistr poured himself another. "Might grow you some balls"
"What you ask of me is treason!" Tyr snapped.
"What I ask is life!" Byleistr bellowed, slamming the goblet on the table. "Once you put that crown on my brother's head, I would be as good as dead!"
"You give your brother too little credit"
"When betrayal is second nature, trust is a gamble. A gamble my dam loss and one I am not willing to play"
"I do not understand"
"I will not lie and say I do not desire the crown. I will not lie and say that my reason for wanting Loki dead to be purely righteous" Byleistr admits, turning to face Tyr.
And Byleistr did not look drunk or high or needy anymore. There is clarity in his eyes. There was fire…anger, violence and hatred…such deep seething hate that unease Tyr.
"It was no Aesir that killed my dam" Byleistr confessed.
There was something in the way that Byleistr spoke that made the hair on Tyr's back rise. And Tyr did not like the accusation or the implication of Byleistr's words.
"You mean it was one of ours?" Tyr asked carefully.
"I will admit that I saw nothing…but I felt it. The seid that brush pass me…" Byleistr shivered at the memory. "It was cold and it was foul. A stench of death. A brush of death. I cannot explain it to you. But…"
"What are you saying?"
"I know what I felt" He gritted. "That thing in that tent…it was Loki"
The titan eagles screamed, splitting the roaring sky as the rain poured, soaking Farbauti to the bones. It is the work of the thunderer he knew; to make the ground slippery and the walls hard to climb. But it is a double edge sword. The Aesir would not be able to hear or see them until it is too late.
The armies marched in a steady rhythm. Lightning flashed and for a split of the second Farbauti could see clearly the entire legion of warriors making their last march with Loki riding on Fenrir at the head of them; Byleistr and Tyr on each of his side on the wolves Loki gifted them.
Farbauti rode a little behind. His was a black wolf with red eyes.
"It will be over soon. And Jotunheim will be victorious" The wolf whispered into Farbauti's mind.
Farbauti tightened his grip on the wet furs beneath him.
"Be at ease my Queen"
"I am no Queen, dog. Do not mock me" Farbauti growled.
It was only by Loki's grace that he was given a wolf to ride. By right, he should be marching with the rest of the men.
Laufey is dead and that meant he is no longer Queen. Not even a Lord, as he was not one before he mated Laufey.
His sire was a High Lord though. But when his sire passes, the title went to the eldest of his siblings along with the mines and farm lands. The gold, it went to his other siblings. He being the youngest received nothing but his dam did not see it as a problem. He was Queen after all. Most Queens take their own lives if their King were to pass before them.
It was not law. It was simply expected.
But he could not do it. For that, many saw him as a coward. And perhaps he is.
As of now, he has nothing. No land or gold or title to speak off. Everything he had belonged to those of royal blood.
It is only by Loki's grace that he was not cast out of the palace and made to live in the army barracks as he had before he was mated. And it is only by Loki's grace that he could still see Ikol, his youngest, after all this is over… or so Loki promised him.
"And yet you still speak like one" The wolf chuckled.
"…"
" Narfi"
"..."
"That's my name"
"I have no use of a traitor's name" Farbauti said.
"So much a Queen still"
Farbauti said nothing. He did not like the idea of these wolves and eagles.
Before they left Jotunheim, Loki had commanded the surviving traitors and the runners from the last war to be brought to him.
There were not many who had survived. About two hundred at most. As they are, they were no use to anyone. Their knees had been broken as punishment and their limbs are weak from disuse.
"If you will fight for me, your treachery to the late King will be forgotten. I will put strength in your limbs. You will walk again. You will be fight again. You will be warriors again" Loki had declared. "If you will follow me...I will give to you all that has been taken away from you by my dam"
Most agreed. What have they to lose that had not been lost?
Loki had smiled in triumph and what happened after, not even he could bear to speak of it.
It was black magic, or at best twisted alchemy. With something akin to blood drawn across the floor, Loki transformed the traitors.
Their shrieks of agony as their bodies' bend and twist in unnatural angles, their bones breaking and tearing through their bloodied flesh made the hair on his back rise.
He left the room long before it was over.
Their shouts ranged for hours, the ground shook and moaned sending cracks across the floors. The wind shrieked and the storm roared. Just beyond the window he had seen the shadows creeping across the yard and up the castle wall. He looked away then.
"My Queen" Narfi called. "Trust me when I say you best remember me and keep me by your side. If we survive this, I will be your only protection in the years to come, and perhaps your only companion. Not even you are fool enough to trust that child"
"Be silent" Farbauti growled. "You will not speak such vile to me. And I would be a fool to trust a traitor"
"Traitor… such an ugly name" Narfi said. "It makes you think of a man who sold his realm to another or one that conspire against the crown"
"…"
"I was young and I ran from a losing war. I wanted to live...same as you"
"…"
"My Queen, wanting to live…Is that a sin so grave that can never be forgiven? Have I not been punished enough? And am I not fighting in this war now?" Narfi asked.
"The High Gods forgive. I am no High God" Farbauti said.
The horns shrieked, slicing through the thunderous night. Men rushed up and down the slippery stone steps. Heavy catapults were being pushed into place and the torches burn.
Thor hurried up the wall.
The horns blared and the Jotuns answered with the howl of wolves and the screams of eagles that pierce the rumbling sky.
"There's more than one wolf?!" Thor thought furiously.
"There your Grace!" Bragi pointed urgently to the trees about five hundred feet away. His breath came in mist.
Thor looked and it took a moment for him to see the movements in the cover of night and thickening mist.
Rain fell, dripping down Thor's golden locks. His fingers curled. So it begins…
"Get the oil and boulders up here now. The archers ready and the warriors in position" Thor commanded.
"At once your Grace!" Bragi left.
Thor looked on into the darkness. The Jotuns are about to have a nasty surprise when they charge. A good number would die from the landmines, but it is nothing compared to the number that had died in this war.
The ground shook and open, the world was on fire. Screams rang in Loki ears so loudly he thought he would go deaf. Seven night and seven day they fought till the doors were broken and the walls came crumbling. Arrows rain from the high towers and the ground exploded, raining down flesh, blood and bones.
Men were on fire, screaming and charging in a mad dash. Men were groveling on the ground, crawling with half their body gone. Men with face half cleaved, men with crushed skulls and men with open guts lay in piles.
Intestines and organs were smeared across the dirt and on walls.
Eagles fell from the sky and wolves lay dead to be feasted upon my maggots.
The city of gold was no more than a butcher's den, a slaughter house of Gods.
Blood covered Loki's skin and furs. His ebony hair was matted with blood, flesh, filth and mud.
Lightning shrieked and thunders roared for worlds to hear.
Three weeks they fought continuously through the city and at last broke through the castle door where the Aesir had retreated.
There was a terrible clash at the stairs.
"Move!" Loki shrieked as he pushed up the winding steps.
His aching feet stomped on fallen men be it Aesir or Jotun, as he shoved the sea of bodies that threatened to crush him. Arrows flew pass Loki, grazing his upper arm, bouncing off the stone wall.
He turns to see an Aesir. He hissed, trusted his bloody blade up; piercing through gold, muscle and flesh. The Aesir was dead on his feet.
He saw Tyr smashed through the wall of shield that were pushing them back at the forefront, breaking the bones of their screaming enemies.
Swords and blades rose and fell. Blood spattered the white walls and smeared the already slippery step.
Be it hours, be it minutes, Loki could not quite tell, they broke through the defense and poured into the white halls.
"Be it a man, woman or child with a weapon, kill them all!" Loki screamed, turning left with his troop while some opt to follow Farbauti to the right. Queen or not, he is a seasoned fighter.
They broke down each door.
A maid screamed when her door was flung open. She knelt in the furthest corner of her room with a butter knife in her trembling hands.
"Kill her" Loki ordered as he limps down the hall.
"No no no no!" She wailed.
A Jotun grabbed her roughly by her golden locks and took a blade to her throat.
"That was a servant. It was unnecessary. Such mindless cruelty will earn you no love, your Grace" Tyr bends down to whisper in Loki's ear.
"She is an Aesir with weapon" Loki said.
"A butter knife?"
Loki turns and slapped Tyr so hard he split Tyr's lips.
Byleistr looked away.
"Then you should have step in and save her if you feel so strongly about it" Loki told Tyr.
Loki did not have much patience left in him. His head pounded terribly, his every muscle ached and his knees were trembling from sheer exhaustion. He was so tired he could not even spare the strength to heal himself.
His lips were broken, his temple was bleeding, a deep gash cuts down his right thigh, the skin of his hands were torn and he'd probably broken a rib.
This battle is dragging out longer than he thought it would.
They did not meet much resistance until they were at the throne room. The moment the door was flung open, sheering white light burst, blinding them; then at once streaks of arrows flew.
Loki saw for a split of the moment, the steel arrows spearing his men. Loki did not know if a shout ever left their lips as they fell; but if it did, it was drowned by the roars of men as they charged at one another.
The clang of steel and ice shrieked mercilessly again.
"Scum!" A bleeding Aesir charged at Loki.
Loki snarled, sending his blade through the man's heart.
The death piled.
Loki seized an Aesir by his matted locks when his back was turn and opened his throat. Blood sprayed.
Another, Loki stabbed him through the eye and out the back of his skull and he yanked his blade out so hard bits of brains were torn out.
The battle was dirty and messy.
"Loki!" Someone called amid the madness and ringing cries.
He turns to see Byleistr, pressing a bloody hand over his open abdomen, his entrails hung from his shaking fingers; three arrows protruded from his chest and one through his left thigh. Blood dripped from his lips. The bloody blade in his right hand scrapped against the floor.
"Help me…" He fell to his knees before Loki.
Something niggled at Loki. Byleistr had never once asked his help even at the pain of death…
Loki could not quite remember what he said or did or if he did say or did anything; a flash of white streaked behind him and suddenly slick hot blood drenched down his head.
He turned at once to see that Fenrir had tore off Tyr's right hand and was going for the rest of him. Claws tore Tyr apart from neck to navel.
Tyr's shrieked, but his voice was smothered by the clash of steel and roars of men. A Jotun swung, burying his axe in Fenrir's skull before Loki could even shout.
"Murderer…" A whisper brushed Loki's ear.
Too slow was Loki to react. There was a cold hard touch and then blazing pain ripped his chest apart. A blade of ice pierced Loki's back and out through his chest and then it withdrew.
Blood spurted from Loki's lips. He fell to his knees.
He could see Fenrir dead a few feet before him. He turns his head to see Byleistr lying on the ground. Translucent red eyes on him and a cruel smile on his bloody lips.
"Oh how dam loved you…" Byleistr rasped. "His favored child…the greatest trea-sure of Jotun-heim…!"
Byleistr knows he is going to die but so be it. He could go in peace now that he had made sure Loki would never sit on the throne. He would not let one guilty of regicide sit upon that same throne he betrayed. He would not!
Loki groaned, his world tilted horrifyingly.
"Some trea-sure you are" Byleistr coughed, choking on his blood.
Loki looked at his brother and in that moment, he felt neither hatred nor anger for him. He felt sorry for him, from the very last part of him that was still Loki…He felt sorry for Byleistr, to never know that he had always posses that which he sought so desperately for.
"No Byleistr…it is you…" Loki force out. It hurts to speak. "We are all treasures of Jotunheim in dam's eyes…But you were always the greatest gift…" Blood trickled down his lips.
Byleistr eyes were shutting, he was dying but for once he was actually listening.
Loki continued. "Born so strong even after the war…when we starve and have nothing…You my dearest brother…you are…the greatest treasure of all…for you are…Jotunheim's symbol of hope that we could be born again…stronger than ever from the ash…"
"If only that were true…" Byleistr murmured. "If only…"
"It is…my dearest brother…"
Loki crawled out of the room with every ounce of strength he had, unseen, as the battle waged on. He saw Frigga dead among the corpse with her armor broken. There was nothing to hint that she was the Golden Queen or that she was different from any other casualty of war. And Loki knew he was going to die just like that.
There was not going to be one last show down between him and Thor. No last battle to the dead between the heirs of two realms.
This is how his legacy would end…not in a dramatic bang, but a noiseless gasped.
Unnoticed… forgotten…alone…
"Truly the Norns have no love and no mercy…" Loki wanted to laugh. "You win…"
He collapsed somewhere in the hallway as the ice in his blood began to thaw, every breath harder than the last. He could hear the distant clang of steel; he could hear the muffled pounding of boots against the marble floor and feel the slick warm blood that pooled beneath him.
He saw from the corner of his eyes, ten…a hundred perhaps of bended, twisted, bony creatures scurrying on all fours like rats from one shadow to the next.
They lick their rotted lips hungrily and their yellow teeth were sharp. Their decaying faces were menacing, malicious and hideous. Maggots feasted, boring holes in their bloodless flesh.
They are here for him, to torment him, to claw him, bite him, eat him and tear him to shreds; slowly, agonizingly, for all eternity. Taking pleasure in his endless agony, anguish and torment…
All must die in the end. And when he did, he would have deserved it…those were his words.
"Come child…I have made you wait…"
Loki did not know how long he lay but it could not be long…
"Loki…?" Someone was calling him.
It did not sound like Hela…
Someone rolled him to his back.
He groaned.
"Loki" A warm hand cups his face.
Piercing blue eyes looked upon him. Thor…it was Thor. The Aesir King was drench in blood and mud. He looked terrible.
Loki smiled.
There was a distant crash. Thor turned at once.
"I don't want…to die alone…" The words came unbidden to Loki's lips.
Thor turned back to him; his thumb wipes the tears that Loki did not know he even had on his cheek.
"Shhh…" Thor soothed. "It's okay…it's going to be okay…I'm here…"
"Why…am I…crying…?" Loki croaked; his heavy lids shutting.
He feels naught. But the tears would not stop flowing.
The illusion that masks his grayish skin faded.
"Oh Loki…" Thor whispered.
Loki felt Thor take his body into those powerful arms and he felt Thor lips on his head, kissing him, soothing him. The ground suddenly shook; rubbles fell and there were more shouting.
Thor tightened his hold.
"Here lies at last…the end of our tale…and what an end it is…" Loki smiled.
"No…no...This is the beginning" Thor tells him. "When this is over, we will return to the Fyrisvellir you love…"
"Fyrisvellir…"
"Yes…you remember don't you?"
"A little…it seems…a dream..."
"It is real…It is most beautiful in spring, with leafs of gold, red and emerald…with pillars of silver and ebony…the flowers will bloom in the first week of spring…and their white silken petals would glitter both in the golden sun and the light of moon. Then in the first light of dawn…" Thor's voice shook; his eyes burn. "The dews that hung from the leafs…they will shine like thousands of little diamonds, and the birds of red, blue, violet and yellow…they will flock to the trees and they will fill the forest with their songs…. Can you see it? Can you hear it?"
"Aye…it's beautiful…"
Thor kisses Loki desperately over the top of his head.
The bony creaks of those spawns were getting louder, sharper, and the smell of rot and decaying flesh crept closer.
Thor could not see or hear or smell them of course. Such hideous sight was never meant for Thor.
"Tell me of Iduun in the light of the full moon…" Loki murmured. Tears trickled.
Funny isn't it, that in his last moment and with the last part of him that is still pure…all Loki wanted to remember were moments of happiness. It was not admiration or worship or the greatness of his achievements or tales of his glory that he wanted to hear. None of those seem important anymore.
Cruel nails dug into Loki ankle and coldness deeper than ice surged; draining, pulling all of his strength.
"Tell me of that theater and their song of winter…" Loki could barely move his darkening lips. "I want to remember…tell me…"
Thor did. But Loki never heard it.
The fighting waged on for a further three days before city was lost. And with that, Asgard lost her first war.