Wow! So, last chapter, I heard from some new people. It's so encouraging to hear from new readers and old readers, so thanks to everyone for their encouragement! Hearing from you guys makes me feel encouraged in a positive way (or guilted in a positive way) to finish this epic up.
Speaking of hearing from readers, after finishing this chapter, I hope you guys will cast your eye over the Author's Note at the end of this chapter. Thanks~!
Chapter 92
Eternal Summer Part II
[...seen and unseen it waged...]
[...a convergence...]
[...set in motion...]
[...when a babe was lost...]
[...and not found...]
As Odin All-Father, General Tyr and Mage Hrotha made their quickest way south, the cavalcade of horses behind them slowly expanded behind them as other riders joined their throng. The king's white brows knitted together in anger at the long line of smoke which curved north and west demarcating the first signs of hostile exchanges rippling through the parallel lines of troops.
"War is spreading."
"This time we are ready," replied Tyr gruffly. "We have survived many battles together. This will not be our last I warrant."
"High Mage Agaeti is leading the initiates in a final round of cleansing," Hrotha leaned forward to yell in Odin's ear as his horse drew alongside the monarch's. They could see a large plume of smoke thickly rising from the south. "Soon the mages will join us."
"If they are of any use-"
"They will be," Odin gave Tyr a sharp look. "We will need all the help we can get."
Odin glanced behind him as he imagined the look on Frigga's face. She would be calm, yet underneath there would be worry – for her husband and for her children.
Take care of our boys. That is what she would say, Odin thought. Those would have been her last words. The elderly warrior turned to gaze forward grimly as his stallion veered sharply around one of the towers, ever drawing closer to the source of the conflict.
Overhead, the red and gold banners snapped ominously in the rising wind. As the company rode up and over a bridge, they could see warriors and armed civilians breaking ranks below and running through the city to join the fray. Jotunn also seemed to be similarly intent on the altercation – pounding their way through parallel streets to join their comrades. Descending from the bridge, the company raced down a side ramp to the street running below and joined the mad throng of running Asgardians. Jostled about, the monarch led his men to the heart of the fray.
Now the sounds of battle were on them. Odin raised a hand and his men drew to a stop behind him as they surveyed the tangle of men and women and Jotunn before them.
He could hear his son already. Thor had joined battle, judging by his familiar roar among the others and the whirring blur of Mjolnir smashing through the ranks. Loki. Odin squinted through the haze of smoke and plumes of hot air rising through the cold. Where is Loki?
-0-0-0-
As Thor rushed into battle, Loki hung back momentarily, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. Reaching out, the warrior-mage allowed himself to open up. He was a swallow swooping low over the deceptively calm waters of the Cosmos. A dark wing tipped and skimmed lightly across the surface, drawing a thin line of ripples in its wake. In response, the clear chimes, the thin, high, cold Voices echoed back.
…we hear you…
…we touch you…
…Other-Soul…
…Other-Soul, we are one…
Asgard drew breath.
[…glory flames bright…]
[…once again…]
[…once again…]
[…the Mages go to war…]
Thor, vainly attempting to catch everyone's attention, batted away a slew of ice aimed at his head. Hollering at the Asgardian warriors and peasants to stand down, the tall, blonde Prince tried to push back the men and women.
No one was listening.
[…once again…]
Rising from his knees, the High Mage Agaeti sighed in satisfaction. The Well now burbled, its waters flashing clear. Around it, the grass was already growing green before their eyes. The barest sprigs of yellow evermorn and pale blue dawnlight blossoms struggled upward and slowly began to open and turn their face toward the sun. Above them, the last remaining tree began to flower.
"It is done," he said, turning to his aide. "Now I may go."
"To join the All-Father?" Karna, the High Mage's aide, set her hands on her hips and her lips narrowed as she eyed the ominous, smoke-filled horizon.
"I will lead the first company of mages," Agaeti nodded. "Our work here is done. Flarathir's curse has been fully purged from this land. The second company will remain here to guard the Well and Academy. The third shall return to Odin's Palace to aid the Healers – as well as protest the people."
"It will be done," Karna bowed her head slightly.
"Odin needs us." Agaeti strode toward the waiting skiffs. "We must end the fighting before it is too late."
"Asgard is safe now," the female warrior-mage frowned as she watched her aged Asgardian Master mount carefully into the skiff.
"It is not Asgard for whom I worry," Agaeti grunted.
Karne blinked at the High Mage's words. Then she shook her head and strode off to give the new orders. The High Council always hold themselves in such great mystery. Norns know what they see – far further than I for certain!
[…what one sees…]
[…what one Sees…]
[…such conflicts…]
Loki leaped upward, caught hold of a twisted hanging piece of wood which might have once been a shutter and scrambled up the side of a short building and then, from its slightly slanted roof now filled with gaping smoking holes, took a chance for a quick breather as he reassessed the damage from below. Thor and I had hoped to stop this before it got worse, but… it has gotten worse regardless of what we have done.
From the pig market, along High Cross Road, and down to the Artisan's District, the alleyways and streets were packed with heaving masses of warriors and Jotunn. Cracked cobblestones, smoking rubble, sheets of ice thickly layered, jagged ice, and a growing amount of injured attempting to extract themselves from the heart of the conflict made for rough going. Flags and curtains and gaily coloured rugs were now enflamed as the Asgardians attempted to combat the ice with their own favoured modes of attack. The clash of steel, the roar of the warriors, and the rumble of destruction rose in a great clamour about the young warrior mage.
His green eyes widened slightly and then his eyebrows knit together in consternation as he took in the destruction about him. I thought I had left this all behind. All behind with the Chitauri army and their enslaved mages; but in the end Thanos won – war has come to Asgard at last.
In the distance, Loki caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar tall figure. A toughly muscled young Jotun, wearing a thick, well-made leather belt and dark blue and black kirtle.
Brother. No. Helblindi. Not my brother, he corrected himself. Yet, watching Helblindi force his way down the street farther to the East, Loki felt a familiar ache rise within his chest. Not belonging. Even now there lies such a chasm between us. Our lives so different, so separate – like night and day. Even now, I have no idea what he would think of this whole mess. Does he support the actions of his people – of – of his father? Or is he as torn and divided and uncertain as myself?
Tearing his thoughts away from Helblindi, the warrior-mage turned away and nearly slipped and fell through a large jagged hole in the wood and thatch frame of the roof upon which he had perched himself. Within the attic, Loki caught a glimpse of a small truckle bed and an abandoned pile of toys which had no doubt belonged to a girl judging by the gaily festooned doll which lay hidden underneath the bed.
This is someone's home. Loki's green eyes hardened. This Realm, this Cosmos, is my home – all of our homes – and now it lies under threat. How can we lose this peace so easily.
[…and when the stakes are high, unable to lose…]
[…we fight on…]
[…but what is winning?...]
"Your Highness," Lady Sif shouted as she drew her horse up and dismounted without looking back to check whether her comrades-in-arms had caught up with her. "We must escort you from the premises at once."
"Sif," Frigga continued to watch over a warrior as he was lifted up on a stretcher onto the back of a large wagon. "We are moving the last of them-"
"The effects of the fighting is spreading," Fandral glanced about nervously. "We come from the north – and our Jotunn counterparts are not far behind."
"All the forces move to join the fray," Hogun said simply in explanation.
"Well, that was the last of the wounded. However, my work is not done. We must stop all of this nonsense before it gets worse," Frigga gathered up her skirts and headed to her waiting mount. "The All-Father and the princes will do the best they can, but the more hands the better, perhaps. I would help them-" Here, Frigga surely and swiftly mounted her horse. "-yet first my duty to the sick and wounded must be discharged."
"The Jotunn coming on-"
"Will have to be dealt with by us," Frigga said, face hardening. "If they will not see reason, if they attack the injured. Form the company at the rear of the procession – the better to ward off attack."
"You will need this," Sif offered her second sword.
Frigga's blue eyes were steel blades in and of themselves as she accepted the weapon.
"Quickly now," she said. "We are running out of time."
-0-0-0-
Skidding round the corner of an herbalist's shop, Loki failed to find purchase on the ice beneath his boots, hooked his arm round a handy wood post festooned with dried cloves and mistletoe, and swung about just as several pieces of ice barely missed his head.
At this rate, he thought grimly, we will all be dead by nightfall.
As he whirled about, letting fly several daggers – aimed at the giants' legs, Loki caught the dull glint of spears row on row headed by a familiar white head of hair.
Father.
-0-0-0-
Recognizing the familiar pounding of feet behind them, Frigga jerked hard upon the reins, spurring her horse onward as she wheeled about to face the enemy. The company drawing close about her on either side drew their swords, gave a cry, and charged at the small group of Jotunn before them.
Judging by the intricate workmanship of his kirtle and belt, the tallest, most muscularly built Jotun was the leader of the pack. Ancient scars ran across his forearms and chest, a testament to his experience. Grey wire hair clustered between his great horns – a sign of age which flickered also in world-weary eyes. He did not move.
Frigga raised her hand, yelled sharply – so much so a few stallions reared and nearly bolted. Everyone drew to a nervous halt a few yards away from the intruders.
The two groups stared at each other suspiciously.
Yet the Jotunn Lord and Asgard's Queen did not break their gazes, nor did they move a step.
As tension built, Sif's grip tightened on her sword hilt, and Hogun's crossbow creaked. Fandral drew his own rapier up at the ready. Yet Frigga spoke no command.
"I have heard of the fairness and beauty of Asgard's Queen," the ancient Jotunn's rumble finally broke the silence. "The tales fall short, Daughter of Vanaheim."
"You have me at a disadvantage," Frigga bent her head graciously, hiding her confusion. "To whom do I speak?"
"I am Lord Aldra of Jotunheim – and I seek you out in these troubled times to find an agreement – for I represent those of the Jotunn who are wearied and who have lost hope."
"Troubled times have come to us all," Frigga greed. "The All-Father, I know, wishes that we may find unity in the face of a larger threat. This battle does not show us all in a favourable light to say the least."
"I have lived through troubled times. As a babe, I was born into a war into which my father had also been born; as a child, I grew up in war; as a full-grown, I abandoned war; and now, as an Elder, I watch my children's children march to a battle I never wished to see again. This is not, I think, what any of us wanted."
"That I can agree with. What is your counsel then?"
"My counsel is to end this conflict before all lives are lost. To that end, I will join the front lines and withdraw any of my people and companies who may have become entangled. Those who agree with me are also on their way to attempt the same."
"Asgard and Jotunheim will thank you for your wisdom," Frigga gave the Jotun a small smile.
"Asgard will thank us in other ways," the Jotun stepped forward. "Promise me you will give us what Jotunheim needs."
"The All-Father already decided, I believe, to return the Casket-"
"The Casket? Ha!" Lord Aldra waved a hand dismissively. "Those who remember the Ancient Ways handed down to us by the tales of our forebears… They know, those who remember. We remember the truth."
"The truth?" Frigga asked, her sword lowered.
"The Casket is useless alone. It comes truly, it is said, of a pair. Two become one. The One is the True Heir. The True Heir of the Line of Kings. This One, we have come to believe, is your son – and that is what our Realm needs – a True King. Prince Loki."
-0-0-0-
Despite the initial hope raised by the sight of the All-Father, Loki knew that the conflict would not so be easily suppressed. Everything had spiraled out of control. Odin's forces attempted in vain to corral the soldiers. Thor's attacks met repeated resistance with ice and muscle. Loki's illusions could only keep the hordes at bay, he knew, for a short time.
The fighting had spilled out into streets branching away from the heart of the attack. Already six homes, eight shops, and a variety of small artisan stalls had been more or less leveled, creating a large field of heaped rubble and stone.
Ice and fire rose around the combatants, combined with the sporadic hail of exploding arrows and blaster fire. The dead and the injured impeded any progress, and slowly the fighting became less centralized if still chaotic. Upon various heaps of stone and on the once neatly set cobblestones of the Artisans' District, Jotunn and Asgardians battled on, paying little heed to the roar of their superiors.
Then, Laufey burst on the scene, bawling at his men to stand back. Tucking himself behind a corner still standing which had once belonged to a tanner, Loki watched as the King of Jotunheim attempted – and failed – to halt the violence of his own people.
"Loki! Loki!"
Among the rising voices, it was hard to distinguish who was calling his name. At first he thought it was Thor, but as Loki disentangled himself from his memories, the husky voice became more familiar.
Byleistr… Byleistr is here? Loki instantly was back in the quiet Royal Archives at the King's Court. Dim rooms with pale cold light slanting down through tall, inset windows and the heavy scent of ancient leathers and papers and dust. Byleistr is here?
Byleistr, my gentle brother. He is a scholar who has no business being here. The art of war does not – would not – suit him, but I suppose even Byleistr would not be exempt.
"Loki!"
Why is he looking for me? Loki frowned as suspicions rose within him. How did he discover my presence here? How could the Jotunn already know Thor and I arrived? Well, Loki corrected himself. Perhaps discovering Thor's arrival is no surprise… Still.
Swirling in a graceful arc, Loki's fingers formed a simple sigil, a quick working which cloaked him in invisibility. After watching Byleistr blunder past, Loki sighed.
Regardless of what the Royal Jotunn family wants with me, this entire squirmish has gone too far.
He could almost hear Thor's voice in his head yelling at him: "What are you playing at?!"
I have tried all options. I have exhausted all of my own ideas. There is no other way. With a grimace and a short sigh, Loki let the working dissipate, summoned the Casket to his fingers, and stepped out of the shadows.
-0-0-0-
Breath came hard and fast as Byleistr wound down and around another set of stairs for the tenth time. It was difficult to search this winding, congested labyrinthine field of war. Pushing past several lamed Jotunn, Byleistr bit back a cry as several chunks of dully gleaming coal dusted across his back. Ducking beneath an archway, Byleistr set his palm to stone, spread ice across the wall, and leaned back on the cool comfort it offered.
Loki. He thought. Where are you? Byleistr cursed his inability to find his younger brother. Loki, I am sure, does not expose his Jotunn nature to the Asgardians. Those myths may be true – the famed abilities to shift shape. Perhaps Loki draws upon a natural ability… It is said the Prince Loki of Asgard has black hair, pale skin, and green eyes… but in this confusion, he could be anywhere.
Byleistr tried to ignore the pit of fear which grew in his stomach.
Little Brother is a mage and a scholar of Asgard. Loki could be dead.
Shaking his head and gritting his teeth, Byleistr burst out and up another flight of stairs, only to discover that he had somehow arrived at the center of the battle within the large square, except he was now on the other side. Blinking through the stinging smoke, Byleistr's eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of a slight shadow slipping out from behind a building.
Surely that is not…
-0-0-0-
Looking down at the corpse of Lord Metnath slain, it appeared, by the blades of Asgard, Helblindi sighed. We have lost too many good men – and for what? Cursing inwardly, the Jotun prince glanced at the men gathered about them. Their stolid faces showed little concern or surprise at the sight before them. From Utanheim, judging by their garb and speech… Helblindi mused. I do not know them as well as I should. I wonder what they make of all this.
"He was cut off on his way back, it seems," a foot soldier offered as he leaned down to pick up a spare sword left behind.
"A good fight it seemed, but there were too many," spat another.
"Well, we are in their Realm," Helblindi let the ice forming around his fist fall and shatter. "It is no surprise to meet fierceness and desperation. Let us return. I need to report back to the King."
"Prince," Commander Vel'ko laid a gentle hand on Helblindi's arm. "I think we should take our time returning, and hoard our energy for the day is long ahead."
Helblindi's red gaze hardened and narrowed with suspicion.
"Why should we hoard our energy when others die for our cause uselessly?" he asked, pulling back, shoulders tensed.
"You are our Prince," another spoke up.
"As Crown Prince," the Commander explained calmly, "you represent the hope of your people."
"My people?"
"Those loyal to the throne. Those loyal to you."
"I am not the Crown Prince," Helblindi bit out, finding the agony of such a confession refreshing. It cleared his head and his mind now raced as he judged the distance of the far arch and the direction of the road back. "Your concern is mistaken at any rate. A poor King I would make if I could not care for myself – and so I must return," he repeated, and without warning, he wheeled about, twisted round the far edge of the group and began to run back as a sinking feeling began to form within his belly.
Why do they hesitate? How far have they led me away from the battle? When did they really know the end of Lord Metnath? Surely this is not… This is not…
-0-0-0-
For a short moment silence reigned. In the distance, bombardments fell with heavy thuds and the clash of steel and whine of blaster fire echoed ominously. The horses stirred restlessly. Still, Frigga seemed unmoved.
Volstagg's familiar harrumph and gruff guffaw rang out loudly.
"Loki is a Jotunn? He is too small!" A pause then ensued as the red-headed warrior looked about him uneasily. "This is ridiculous… is it not?"
Sif gave Hogun a dark glance, but the stoic, dark-haired warrior just shrugged in his usual calm manner. Hogun, hailing from Vanaheim, obviously is not as concerned about Loki's true ancestry, the young woman realized. Use and ability is of greater importance to him. As for the Queen…
Following her train of thought, Sif's gaze turned to the Queen in expectation. Frigga's shoulders remained squared even as she sheathed her sword. The muttering and spluttering of the Asgardians died as they realized with horror that the Queen was not about to refute Lord Aldra's claims any time soon.
So Loki is a Jotunn. That… actually makes sense. How long did she know? Sif mused with a small smile. From the first – or soon after? Loki could fool many of us but obviously not the All-Father or the Queen.
"Loki's parentage aside," Frigga replied quietly, raising her hand to calm the warriors behind and about her. "This is a matter for the Jotunn – and a treasonable act also. Treason against King Laufey. Loki, I know, would not wish to be supported by those who betrayed their previous monarch."
"How many years of war and desperation have I survived?" Lord Aldra asked, lowering his spear and appearing to settle down for a serious discussion. "How many long, hard winters have I weathered? No. Raising a hand to the King is not the road I take. I am an ancient jarnvithr with roots deep within a cold and barren land; I am patient. Others who follow the path of folly will make that mistake for me."
"How fortuitous," Frigga said. "You expect the throne to be empty and ready for the Prince?"
"Like a frozen river in winter, the Jotunn carry deep rivers of change will flow unceasingly if slowly. Change is coming to Jotunheim. It must – or we die."
"It is a weighty matter," Frigga agreed slowly. She gave the Jotun noble a hard look. "For this reason, I cannot make a promise such as this on Prince Loki's behalf. Yet, I would be willing to mediate a meeting with him if that is what you require."
"That would be enough," nodded Lord Aldra, tipping his great horns downward in a sharp motion of respect. "I hope."
"I can promise nothing however." Frigga reminded the Jotun.
"Understandable." The Jotunn noble jerked his head at his group of warriors. "We make for the south."
"Let us escort you," Frigga smiled graciously. "We have no time to lose."
With that, everyone was off.
[…and once again…]
[…the Mages go to war…]
For the first few seconds, Thor and those about him – Jotunn and Asgardian alike – glanced each other in confusion as an unfamiliar howling wind suddenly whipped up. With cruel fingers, the winter breeze searched every crack and cranny around them and stabbed with sharp knives of cold to their deepest bone.
Then came a frost so heavy it filled the air like a thick cloud, a heavy blanket which muffled all sound and threatened to steal away one's breath with each passing minute. It was white and grey – and the green and red and gold world of Asgard seemed to fade to a dimness Thor had only experienced once or twice in his long lifetime.
Through the swirling mists of frost and then thicker snow, Thor caught a glimpse of his opponents' faces. Such looks of delight and horror combined, Thor could not help but shiver. He had just been about to drag Lord Narvil (a particularly rowdy Asgardian nobleman) back from the fray, but now the Crown Prince's hand fell away from the tough warrior's armoured shoulder.
Calling Mjolnir to his hand, Thor twisted about, smashed ice that suddenly began to creep about the ankles of his boots. He looked up and nearly dropped his hammer.
Loki.
It was Loki but not the Loki he knew. Not the hard shell of Kol'la of Shax's Battlehouse. Not the cynical, tough Kol'la of Asgard's stables. Not the mischievous trickster of the Mage's Court. Not his uncertain, willful brother who knew everything.
This was a being. A being of such power, Thor knew he would think twice before grappling That Who Was Loki. It was Loki – Loki's dark skin. Loki's flaming red eyes. Loki's dark wild hair blown back and whipped about by the wild winter winds barely contained within his palms.
But it was Loki no more. For when this Loki spoke, it was an ancient tongue Thor could not recognize – and the Voice carried upon the winds was more like a cacophony of elements. It was cold. It was brass. It was rock and snow and wind. It was power.
And Loki – Loki, the Other-Soul – stood firm in the midst of the storm which now blistered outward from the Casket within his hands. No longer a Casket. A swirling mass of blue and white and grey and black - and in its deepest recesses, Thor fancied he saw the stars.
[…He who sees…]
Ice ran. Ice poured. Ice and snow and the blizzards of all the Winters which had gone before. Power and Magick and the song of Jotunheim's cold stars rang out, rippled outward like a massive shock. It was greater than the blast within the Vault. Like a massive wave of winter, it spread outward and outward – faster and faster, enveloping all in ice and snow, holding all fast in its wind's clutches.
Loki stood hand in hand with his Other Soul.
[…He who Hears…]
For a few seconds it lasted, yet it was enough. To Loki, it seemed as though ages past – ages in which everyone came to a halt. That which it touched, the ice captured in shackles of ice and will. His inevitable transformation seemed to last forever as Loki's hands and then his arms – his torso, his chest, his neck – all changed before the shocked gazes of his people.
…both your people…
…you straddle as always so many worlds…
…a King like no other…
"I am no king," Loki whispered.
…not yet…
The stars chimed in return.
…not yet…
-0-0-0-
Byleistr, moving forward across the ice with no thought to the danger about him, drew closer to the center of the storm. Almost bowed in half due to the force of the wind about him, the young Jotun found the going difficult, yet he dug his heels into the rising snow and ice, refusing to be beaten back. His eyes, fixed with wonder at the sight before him, were unwavering in their gaze. This, he thought, is legend come to life.
[…he who Hears…]
[…he who Sees…]
Sliding and slipping to a halt, Helblindi drew sharp breath at the sight before him. What had once been a congested street of warriors was now thickly layered in snow and ice, trapping all of the combatants. Arms raised, feet fastened to the ground, the Jotunn and Asgardians alike struggled to free themselves from the rapidly expanding power of snow and ice which whirled through the narrow alleys and streets.
Helblindi, realizing that he too was in danger of being halted, moved as swiftly as he could, shoving past the Jotunn and Asgardians in his path. Ahead of him, at the head of the street, the world was a wall of white which slowly cleared away to blue.
The storm is dying down? He wondered.
Then he arrived at the head of the street and found himself gazing over what had been the center of the battlefield. A battlefield it was no more. Just like the streets behind him, everyone was frozen in their places, excepting those like Helblindi who were arriving late. Several Jotunn and Asgardians were hacking themselves free.
Thor was already crunching his way across the ice. Odin and his men were slashing their way past a forest of icicles which blocked their path into the square. Byleistr seemed to be halted in his tracks, his eyes fixed upon the blue-skinned, dark-haired Jotun standing beneath a wooden, now very iced and snow burdened, overhang. Loki.
All eyes were upon Asgard's second prince who stood, red glittering eyes wide, with the Casket of Ancient Winters within his hands.
"Loki! You did it!" Thor was yelling over and over in jubilation. "I knew you could!"
"Loki! We need to talk!" Byleistr stirred and began to move forward with renewed determination.
Helblindi, however, noticed that Loki did not stir. The young warrior-mage seemed similarly transfixed as his red eyes focused on something happening at the far end of the market place. Confused, angry and anxious cries were rising as Asgardians and Jotunn alike cursed the ice bonds which had stopped them in their tracks. Among the outcry, another hoarse cry could be heard.
It was by a particularly large piece of rubble where Laufey and Farbauti had apparently entrenched themselves. Except Laufey was no longer on his feet.
The King of Jotunheim was falling.
Helblindi's stomach wrenched as fear took hold. Farbauti was pulling on Laufey's arms, attempting to lower his mate more gently onto the snow which was now stained in red and purple. So much blood.
"Byla!" Helblindi yelled and began to plow his way across the battlefield.
At his brother's call, Byleistr turned. The scholar's eyes widened at the sight of his fylgja now lying in Farbauti's arms. Farbauti who bellowed with anguish.
"What happened-" Helblindi found himself talking to no one in particular as he made his way past Asgardian and Jotunn. "Someone call the Healers!"
Fylgja. What happened.
[…silence fell…]
[…and in the silences…]
[…a Voice called out…]
A grey-haired Asgardian warrior attempting to raise a spear at Byleistr and block the Jotun found his arm frozen in place by another rush of ice beckoned by the twitch of Loki's fingers. Loki grimaced as he watched Byleistr make his way across the market to his father. Then, tucking the Casket away with his magick, Loki himself began to follow his older brothers.
They are my brothers whether they wish it or not.
"Loki." It was Thor now at his elbow. "What happened?"
Another brother.
"It is Laufey. The King has been injured – or worse," Loki said shortly. "We must attempt to keep everyone calm."
"No!" Thor's blue gaze now fixed itself on the group of Jotunn gathered about the fallen King. "Without King Laufey, no Jotunn will see reason."
"It is possible more trouble will ensue. Perhaps it can be stopped."
Thor glanced back at Odin who now stepped into the square and began to bark at his men in short, sharp commands.
"Father is trying to get our men in line, at least."
"I am sure the Jotunn will see reason in light of what has happened to the King," Loki huffed. "If Helblindi keeps his head."
"Helblindi?"
"The Crown Prince of Jotunheim."
Loki jerked his head in the direction of the rubble heap which they approached carefully.
"You will meet him soon."
It was no easy business for the two to cross what remained of the Artisan's District. Wood and stone and ice and snow littered their now treacherous path. Pieces of timber and cloth and vats and frozen dyes and pieces of glass and metal jumbled together. Thor and Loki, by the time they arrived at the fallen King's side, found themselves a little out of breath.
"He needs a healer!" Farbauti was saying. "Someone – we need to save him!"
"A healer is on the way," Byleistr attempted to calm his faetha. "'Blindi has already sent for one."
"It will be too late!"
A chill crept in Loki's bones as he looked down at the prostrate, barely conscious figure that once had been a giant, a figure of greatness. Like Helblindi, Loki mused, this person was someone I feared and admired and… when I was so young – so young – this was someone, I wished to be worthy of. Not anymore. Not for a long time have I given thought for these… creatures… for these people who are mine.
And yet…
And yet…
Is this what you wished for, Loki? Truly? It sounded like Elska. It sounded like Frigga. It sounded like a wiser Thor. What was it you wished?
I did not wish this, he admitted. I never wished this. Not for Jotunheim, not for my brothers… not even for these two who could have been my parents. Not really. I never wished this.
"I did not wish this."
"Loki?" Thor asked in quiet undertones, recognizing what the tension radiating from within his brother truly meant.
"Let me…" Loki, forcing down the bile of fear and hatred, stepped forward. He coughed and tried to speak again. "I have some abilities. Let me see what I can do."
"There is a stab wound in his lower back. His lower back," Farbauti was finding it difficult to remain coherent. "His lower back – and it was not very deep."
"This smells of treachery," Thor grumbled.
"Treachery," echoed Byleistr numbly. "From within our ranks… It is as I feared," he ended with a sigh. "I had hoped my fears would be unfounded… Now Fylgja has paid the price."
Spreading his hands above the King's body, Loki closed his eyes and extended his life force down and into Laufey's body. He had reached out this way to Elska, to Thor… and to various sick and ill when he had been in training at the Mage's Academy. It is not something natural for me, he sighed, but I can attempt something.
As the green magick wound its way through the foreign organs and blood of the King, Loki's dark brow crinkled and a frown marred his face. A dark force lurked, eddied through Laufey's veins.
"Poison," Loki said, his mouth suddenly dry and lips thinned in anger. "On the blade, more than likely. If we could isolate-"
Loki broke off with a short gasp as a rough hand suddenly clenched his wrist, forcing his hand away from its position above Laufey's torso. Laufey's hand.
Fa-
Gritting his teeth, Loki raised his eyes for the first time to meet his father. The last time their gazes had met, they had stood alone on the edge of the Eybjarg and had gazed into the Abyss together. Then, in Laufey's eyes there had been something – something that Loki could not read, could not understand. Would he find the truth now, or would his fa- would Laufey as always turn away?
"No." Laufey's voice was faint but firm.
It cut like jagged glass into the silence and brought forth a broken, stifled sob from Farbauti.
"This-" Laufey coughed. "This is my time."
"Why?" whispered Farbauti harshly.
"It is for…our sons, our people." Laufey did not turn his gaze away from Loki as he pushed Loki's unresisting hands back. "Save your power, save your energy, save your gifts for – save them for Jotunheim… for those who… those who…" He coughed. "Deserve better."
"Love-"
Laufey's gaze drifted upward to meet Farbauti's face which now furrowed with grief as great tears formed and fell, half-frozen onto the snow. Surrendering his hand into Farbauti's, Laufey smiled.
"I go now to the Halls of the For-Eldra, where my father and his father wait for me and where I shall wait for you as well, my love and my children. You were always with me, beloved Farbauti, and we made something together of great worth… I think." His red eyes slowly moved to Byleistr and Helblindi who now had knelt down on one knee to draw closer to their father. "Helblindi, be the… the older brother you have always been – and… and remember that those who walk blind, walk on thin ice. Byleistr… never… never give up… You are different… but that is no bad thing… Knowledge is as great as any Jotunn's spear."
Laufey choked back a short cry as his hands clenched in pain. The poison, Loki guessed, was now rapidly taking its toll.
"And… L-"
He could no longer seem to speak easily now. Time was running out. Loki rose jerkily to his feet, swaying. The world spun as the warrior-mage staggered back a few steps. As Laufey's red eyes slowly dulled and lost their light.
The King of Jotunheim drew breath and uttered his last words – an odd phrasing, an ancient ritual, heavy and laden with meaning Loki could not –would not- understand.
Within a barren winter
springs there a tunglblom
whose leaf will not fall nor wither,
Aevi'a Engi'Enda Sumar.
Well, it's the end of an era... Three more chapters left and DIT is done! After that, I may start planning a sequel although I'll need to take a writer's break from this world. It will all depend on reader's response as well. I really ought to be working on original stories that I can sell, but this is such a baby of mine and I am so invested in it (emotionally too!)... so writing a sequel will happen... and it helps to know that others are one board for a sequel as well.
Author's Note: There are some of you who are gonna so be happy with what happened in this chapter to Laufey. Please refrain from sending me reviews saying things like "I'm so glad he's gone." I'm gonna be honest with you - Laufey has become something complicated and dear to me... As I wrote the ending, Aragorn's coronation song from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack came on and I nearly began to tear up! So, in the end, I am open to thoughtful critique and commentary - but this moment is not a moment that should elicit character bashing. Maybe there are others out there who are more like me - who enjoy complicated people and situations. This moment was written for you. Others who like feel-good stories and simple straightforward narratives can go have a cup of tea. Thanks for your understanding.
Glossary:
fylgja - "mother"
faetha - "father"
jarnvithr - ironwood