Chapter Twenty: One With the Wind And Sky
For a few long moments, Kristoff simply stared. His mind was blank at the sight of the thing that had caused so much chaos over the past … had it really been little more than a week? After those few moments had passed, the void in his mind was filled with white-hot fury.
Kristoff leaped with a fearsome cry and swung down at the trickster before him, shattering the ground into gravel. As the dust settled, Kristoff seethed at the lack of a body. Thor had warned him that the jotun race had been particularly skilled with illusion, and Loki had been no exception.
Kristoff tightened his grip on Mjolnir at the echoing sound of clapping. Hans, now loki given his higher voice, was almost giggling as his gaze wandered over the crater Kristoff had made. "I have to say, Thor, I really did miss watching you work." His eyes levelled on the hammer and his smile faded into a scowl as he gently rubbed the scars on his lips. "Though I do wish that had been lost to the sea."
Kristoff held out Mjolnir and jerked lightning down, lances of energy ripping from the clouds toward the ex-jotun and destroying where he had been. Kristoff caught the way Loki's form seemed to melt away like mist as the lightning struck. Before the ground had stopped smoking, Loki was walking back into the clearing.
"Now, Thor, is that any way to treat an old friend?" he asked coyly.
"We are not friends!" Kristoff spat. Loki gave him a deadpan look, as if wondering just how stupid he was.
"Not you, ice harvester," he said, chuckling at the occupation. "I'm talking to Thor, who lives on inside you." Loki's expression wavered and for a brief moment he looked … sad. Then the wily grin was back in place. "You really were my best friend, Thor. Well, except for Odin, of course, but brotherhood pales in comparison to mere friendship." Kristoff stiffened at this piece of news, sensing the truth in the words. Loki and Odin had been brothers?
"Blood-brothers," Loki supplied, "brothers of our own choosing." He adopted a fearsome scowl. "Of course, that didn't stop him from imprisoning me after that little incident with Baldr!" he spat.
"Incident?" Kristoff demanded, "you killed his son!" Loki barked a laugh.
"Technically, Hodr killed him. I just … helped." Hans dissolved into cruel laughter, tears streaming from his face. "And dear brother Odin didn't even think to investigate before he birthed a son to kill Hodr!" He laughed even louder than before, as if it were the greatest joke in the world. "It was only after Hodr was dead on the ground that Odin thought to speak to him about it, to understand my involvement." The trickster scowled, his face turning red.
"And then they turned on me; after I had saved them so many times, they turned against me like a common-"
"Murderer?" Kristoff deadpanned, hoping to keep him talking; perhaps he'd let something important slip. Hans's glower at the barb was somehow both flat and furious.
"And even at the height of my humiliation, the Ice Queen had to kick me while I was down." He hissed and rubbed the pale, half-healed burns across his eyes. "She planted a snake to drip venom in my eyes. The petty, frigid, little-" he dissolved into angry muttering, in a language Kristoff was pretty sure had long-since died out. Then like a switch, he turned back to Kristoff with a sinister grin.
"But she'll pay for that, one way or another. When I chain her up just as she did me," his gaze lit up with barely-suppressed madness, "and I bring this kingdom to its knees as she watches, helpless to protect her people. Or her family. Or that new beau of hers."
Kristoff stomped his foot and Hans cried out as the ground exploded from underneath him. Kristoff grinned as the trickster landed with a groan. So few remembered that Thor had been a son of the Earth itself. As such, Kristoff had "inherited" a certain connection to it, one only made stronger by his adoption by Pabbie.
Hans coughed as he hauled himself up and dusted his shoulders off, fixing Kristoff with a look of mild interest. "I have to admit, I didn't expect that," he admitted, voice low again. Hans flashed a feral grin. "Loki may have been one to avoid combat, but I sure-as-Hel am not." Hans reached out to his side and the air seemed to shimmer, settling into a familiar dark-steeled sword. "Shall we?"
Kristoff grit his teeth and charged, swinging Mjolnir to meet Mistilteinn.
Elsa sighed in contentment as she nuzzled into Alphonse's chest, her fingers stroking the cotton of his shirt. She idly thought that if Anna ever wanted her to distract Alphonse again, for whatever reason, she would be all too happy to oblige. Soon, sleep began to overtake the Snow Queen, and she felt herself gently falling …
Elsa blinked at the wavering landscape before her, the world seeming to gently sway like grass in the wind. She registered someone clutching her hand and turned to find Alphonse with her, his gaze hard as he looked across the grey landscape. This must be a dream, Elsa realized. Just as she had the thought, two figures appeared in the distance, growing closer. Alphonse drew Elsa close, clutching her against him as if to protect her. Elsa sighed as she gently moved away, keeping only their hands together; she appreciated the gesture, but she could take care of herself.
After some time, the distant figures settled into something recognizable. And upon recognizing them, Elsa's eyes widened in surprise.
The figure on the left was a tall, strongly-built man that radiated strength. His hair was a shoulder-length curtain of ebony and iron with a single small braid framing the side of his serene, finely-wrinkled face. He was dressed in grey, with a navy cloak like Alphonse's and a wide-brimmed hat, a pale spear held across his shoulders.
But what confirmed his identity was his eyes: a single green orb that flashed with cunning and experience, the other covered by a faded black patch. This was Odin Borson, Alphonse's Remnant.
Next to Odin strode a tall, graceful woman with pure-white hair, even paler than Elsa's, and skin to match. Her eyes were like ink, her lips blue as if from cold. Her gaze was icy and distant, as if nothing mattered to her. She was dressed in a tight, faintly green dress that left little to the imagination, with strong leather arm-braces and snow boots.
Without needing to ask, Elsa knew this was her own Remnant. This was Skadi, the first Snow Queen.
"Alphonse," Odin greeted, his voice low and gravelly, instilling dread even as it invited you in to listen; the voice of a commander, "we finally meet. I have waited for this day for quite some time." Elsa felt the grip on her hand tighten, saw Alphonse stiffen through the corner of her eye. Odin's lips stretched into a sardonic grin.
"Something on your mind, boy?" he asked. There was silence for a pair of heartbeats before Alphonse swung, striking Odin squarely in the cheekbone. The All-Father turned back to them, seemingly unaffected. "Feel bett-?" Another strike from the other hand. This one sent Odin to his knee, leaning against his spear as he spit out a spray of blood.
Alphonse hissed through his teeth as he clutched his hands together. Elsa calmly reached forward and placed her hands over his, soothing the ache and eliciting a sigh of contentment from the mage. A faint huff of amusement drew attention to Skadi, whose demeanor had not changed.
"I like this one," she said, her tone faint and uncaring. Odin barked a laugh and stood up rubbing his jaw.
"Me too," he commented.
"What do you want?" Elsa asked, channeling her own inner-Snow Queen, a tone that had stilled everything from raging politicians to partying trolls. Odin just grinned; Skadi remained unaffected.
"I want many things, Elsa," Odin replied. "I want to thank you for slaying Hugin and Munin, and returning their essences to their source: to me. I want to thank you for giving Alphonse that last push to finish my path, opening him up to his own way. And I want to thank you for freeing him from the chains of Fate, just as my dear Frigga did to me."
Elsa's eyes narrowed at the "Dear Frigga". "If I recall my poetry correctly, Odin, you had many sons with many different women, at least one of which was forced and had you banished from your own kingdom for ten years. How exactly does that mesh with your 'dear' queen?" Odin chuckled at the question, sighing in contentment.
"Well, Elsa, Frigga and I had something of an … open relationship." Elsa gripped tighter to Alphonse in surprise. "When I was gone on my many ... quests, she was free to … meet her needs as she desired, just as I was free to do so." He glanced at Skadi, who simply glared at him. "But no matter what happened or who we met, it was never the same as when we were together," he added with a wistful sigh. "That woman was quite gifted, in many ways." Elsa felt her cheeks start to burn, utterly uncomfortable listening to this. "And when I came home and the night fell, as we met in that most primitive of ways-"
"Okay, that's enough!" Alphonse shouted, "There are some things that someone cannot unhear!" The grin on Odin's face only grew.
"What do you want?" Elsa repeated, much more forcefully.
"Perhaps you should be asking her that," Odin said, gesturing to Skadi. The goddess strode forward and grasped Elsa's chin between her fingers, tilting the queen's head this way and that. When Alphonse tried to intervene, Skadi simply flicked him across the brow and he flew into the distance.
"You are quite the disappointment," Skadi growled as she let Elsa go. Elsa took a step back in surprise, both at the unexpected insult and at the fact that she felt … hurt by it. "Why the cosmos would bless you with power even greater than my own, bolstered by my own, is beyond me," the jotun continued with a cruel sneer. "You locked yourself away in fear of your gift and ran away when it was revealed. You barely fought off two men and couldn't defeat a simple prince. And when all seemed lost you let yourself crumble like a weathered stone over your sister's frozen corpse."
At the mention of Anna's sacrifice, Elsa felt anger ignite in her heart. Without thinking, she slapped Skadi across the face. Skadi levelled her gaze … and gave the slightest grin. "There it is. Your spirit, the strength of the mountains." Skadi snapped her fingers and, with a shout of surprise, Alphonse was jerked back from the distance to crash into the ground before the Snow Queens. The mage stood and brushed what appeared to be frost off of his cloak.
"That was not fun," he deadpanned, to which Elsa giggled.
"For the record," Odin said as he approached, "we didn't come here just to troll you. Though, that was quite fun." Glares from both Elsa and Alphonse spurred him on. "We came to test you out. And I must say, I am impressed. Alphonse, you better hold on to this one," he gestured to Elsa, "she's definitely a keeper. Not to mention she had looks men would die for." Elsa blushed at the comment, which only deepened as he muttered, "If I were still alive, I wonder if Frigga would have minded-" He was cut off by another punch from Alphonse.
"And you have my approval as well, Queen Elsa," Skadi said. "I look forward to watching you finish that abomination that Loki has become." Skadi leaned in to whisper in Elsa's ear, "If you ever want insight in … creative uses of your magic, simply visit your Palace and Dream of me. I will find you, and we will hunt like true Queens."
With that, Skadi dissolved into snowflakes that blew away to dance on the non-existent wind. As they watched, Odin's demeanor grew grim.
"Before I go as well, there are a few things we need to discuss." He held a hand out toward Alphonse, who began to retch. Out of his mouth emerged a crow, which crawed and settled on the mage's shoulder. "You understand?" Odin asked, to which Alphonse shakily nodded and snapped his fingers, the crow turning to ash before melting away.
"And now to the matter of Loki," the All-Father said, and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground. In a flash, they were standing in what appeared to be a log cabin, three large armchairs sitting before a massive, roaring fireplace. Odin sat in one, leaving Elsa and Alphonse to take the other two.
"In regards to my wayward blood-brother," Odin began, "you need to force his hand." It seemed Alphonse had picked up his lecturing habit from his Remnant. "Loki was never one for direct conflict. He fought outright on few occasions and leaned far closer to deception and trickery. The one time he committed himself utterly towards true combat was at Ragnarok, and that got him killed.
"As such, and with this Hans fellow being as crafty as him, he will simply whittle you down, throwing his ever-growing forces at you to weaken you before he swoops in for the final kill." He pointed to Elsa. "You, I believe, both sides have a particular interest in. Hans hates you for ruining his chance at his own kingdom while Loki hates Skadi for planting that snake to torment him for so long.
"To keep this from happening, to prevent your own sort of Ragnarok, you need to force him to fight openly, to commit his forces against you. In this way, I believe, you have a chance at victory."
Elsa traded a glance with Alphonse. "How do we do this?" Elsa asked.
"With something we called The Peace of Kvasir," Odin answered with a terrifying grin.
Kristoff growled as he lifted himself from the ruins of a large tree, shaking the dust off of himself. He stretched his senses as far and as taut as he could, searching for the real Hans. The trickster had fooled him with illusions this entire fight and he was really getting sick of it.
An insane warcry split the air as Hans fell toward him, sword gleaming in the sunlight. Kristoff braced himself and swung down, Mjolnir's head smashing into the ground and releasing a wave of force that threw Hans off. Even as the prince fell, Kristoff reached back and hurled the hammer at him. Hans twisted in the air, avoiding the killing blow by a hair's breadth.
Kristoff braced his arm as Mjolnir flew back to his grasp and charged back into the fray. Hans landed with a roll and braced himself to meet the charge. Both men swung, their weapons meeting in a barrage of sparks. Hans spun around, breaking from the clash with fluid grace, and swung around to catch Kristoff off guard. The ice harvester barely ducked in time to avoid.
Bracing his weight, Kristoff mentally pushed the ground out from underneath them, sending both men flying. Kristoff rolled across the ground, his innate woodsman skill taking over. Even as he acted, he thought furiously for a way to get the upper hand. This battle had gone on for far too long and soon the citizens of arendelle would be drawn to them, their curiosity overwhelming their fear.
Hans strode from the treeline as if he hadn't a care in the world and flicked his wrist. A gale force wind rose up and blew at Kristoff, sending him flying yet again. As he slammed into a rock face, part of him thought how ironic it was that wind was knocking around the reborn god of storms.
Like a flash, inspiration struck; not to mention he realized how stupid he had been this entire fight. He had let Hans dictate the rules of their fight, let him manipulate Kristoff into forgetting his greatest weapon. Kristoff centered himself, but unlike before he focused his willpower up rather than down. Kristoff, quite frankly, was more comfortable with earth than the air, but that wasn't who he was anymore. Hans was a trained fighter, so Kristoff had to embrace both sides of his environment if he wanted to survive, much less win.
Winds whipped up as thunderheads rolled in, charged with lightning and echoing with the calls of thunder. Hans cried out as the winds whirled around him, jerking him from side to side. Kristoff thrust his hammer up, catching spears of energy as they struck down until Mjolnir glowed red and couldn't hold anymore.
Kristoff lunged forward with a shout and struck with all of his might. The explosion shook the forest around them and blinded the blonde; he himself flew backwards from the recoil, losing his grip on his weapon.
After a few moments, when his ears stopped ringing, Kristoff opened his eyes to see the trees around them blown down in a circle, all leaning away from a huge crater in the ground. The blonde briefly marveled at what he had done before he shook it off and approached to check the state of Hans. It had felt like a direct hit; there was no way he was still alive after that. But in the crater sat the hammer, no charred body in sight. Only a small puddle of black goo.
Dark chuckling drew Kristoff's attention further, only to find a trio of Hans at the far side of the crater. The center-most, battered and bruised, snapped his fingers and the two others dissolved into black muck, identical to the sludge that pooled within the crater. It had been some kind of replica that Kristoff had struck down.
"Oh Thor," Loki sneered, "you're not as bright as you used to be." Kristoff growled and jerked his hammer up. Kristoff focused through it to summon more storm-clouds … and it spasmed in his grip with a burst of purple sparks. Only then did Kristoff notice something unexpected - and terrifying. An ugly crack ran down Mjolnir's head, nearly cleaving the weapon in two.
And it was during that moment of stunned horror that Hans darted forward and struck him across the face, sending the ice harvester reeling. Kristoff spit a glob of blood and stood on shaky knees. He may be weaponless, but he was far from weak. And he would not lose to this insane piece of dirt.
Hans sneered as he twirled Misteltein, already imagining the moment when he thrust its blade into the troll-child's heart. He could already see him rot away into oblivion, could picture the heartbreak on Anna's face as he told her that her husband was dead. He wondered if she would wail in despair, or if she would take it quietly, like her sister. Given Anna's loud nature, he decided on the former.
Hans readied himself, sneering at Kristoff's rough, bare handed stance and swung. The blade was an inch from Kristoff's neck, when-
"FREEZE!" Both men locked up at the unexpected shout (not to mention the tendrils of magic that halted their movements) and both looked up to find a large white hawk descending, allowing three very familiar figure to climb off its back. Elsa patted her snow-hawk's head with muted affection, even as Anna held her hands up to maintain the binding spell.
"Really, you had to say it?" Elsa asked. Even as she trembled from the effort of maintaining a continued spell, Anna gave a faint grin.
"Somebody had to," she replied through gritted teeth. Alphonse strode forward, hands splayed in an action that, in any other situation, would seem peaceful. But the steely glint in his eyes said otherwise.
"Loki Laufeyson, Hans Westergard," he said with a tone of unmistakable authority, "I invoke the Peace of Kvasir." Even as the last syllable passed his lips, both Hans and Kristoff felt the magic binding them in place fall away. Both looked to each other and braced to resume their duel … only to find that their bodies would not do so. Hans flexed his hands, curling his fingers to test them. Kristoff shook himself to make sure everything was working; yep, seemed good. But when they tried to attack, their bodies failed to act.
Taking over,Loki roared in frustration. Why?! Why had he helped that forsaken Pact. In a flurry of images and impressions, Loki shared all he knew about what had just been invoked. And, given that he had been a part of its inception, he knew quite a lot.
The Peace of Kvasir had been a lesser-known aspect of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War, one not even recorded in the poetry of Man. After the war had ended, with the murder of Kvasir the Bard by the mad dwarves Fjalar and Galar, the greatest sorcerers of all races had joined in an effort to prevent any future attempt to resume the bloodshed.
Odin, Frigga, and Freya had organized the ritual, along with seven elves, ten dwarves, and thirteen human women. Loki himself had attended as a representative of the jotun tribes. Twenty-four magic users, the number of hours in a day, had gathered an wrought one of the greatest enchantments in history. Using their collective powers, Freya had woven a failsafe into the soul of every being, one that could be invoked by any of their races.
The terms of the Peace, should it be invoked, were a three-day period of forced passivity in which none could attack any of the others, whether directly or by order. The Peace was originally meant to facilitate peace talks during times of tension, a time to smooth away insults and divine peaceful solutions. The invocation was irrefutable, and no one could resist it. Not even Loki - or Hans.
Hans glared at Alphonse, and if looks could kill the mage would have burned to ash, and then some. Alphonse simply returned a level look, as if daring him to try. Hans sneered and sheathed his sword. "You may have invoked the Peace, Alphonse, but it's too late to stop what is coming. I hope you enjoy your gift." With that, Hans Shifted into a falcon and flying away.
As he flew, the prince was already planning his next move. They may be able to prevent direct attack or orders, but they couldn't stop him from amassing his forces. Or unleashing something without orders.
As they watched Hans fly away, Kristoff turned and regarded his wife, sister-in-law, and whatever-Alphonse-was, with a measure of calm. And then that calm shattered like glass.
"What just happened?!"
Yes, I totally made up Kvasir's Peace. Read the story of Kvasir, it's really weird (even for Norse mythology). Read, review. Can't wait for the next chapter.
PS, I'll be bringing in surprise characters. Can't wait to see what ya'll think.