AN: Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed! I really can't thank you guys enough, and your feedback really helps me out and inspires me to continue this story! Thank you! :D Also, thank you new followers and new readers! You guys are awesome!
I will try to get the next chapter up by next week, but I may get delayed with Comic Con. If anyone is going to San Diego, try to find me! I would love to meet you guys! I will be dressed as comic Lady Loki. ( Because I'm poor and can't afford a new costume for each day...)
Anyway, enjoy! Reviews are always very much appreciated and loved!
Chapter 35: A Mother's Message
Walking around the palace seemed eerie; while the outside seemed bustling with excitement, some hallways were so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Despite having served the royal family for centuries, she had never seen the palace like this. Often times, even in the middle of the night, the halls would be filled with guards and housekeepers—it was never quiet. Now, however…
Shaking the thoughts out of her head, the handmaiden walked passed the large gilded doors of the queen's chambers. If anyone were to be alive, it would be the queen. Though motherly, Frigga could wield magic better than the most celebrated sorcerers. She was able to balance grace and power perfectly, and though she was often too strict and demanding, Eir respected her.
Opening the large door, Eir scrunched her face as she was assaulted with a foul stench. The royal chambers looked empty, but the scent that flowed against the elegant gold carvings and silk sheets told a different story. It was a type of smell that you only had to smell once; it was a type of aroma that stuck with you, conjuring up bad memories and images of pestilence. It gave her a slimy feeling, like she wanted to run herself a bath and scrub the scent from her being. Whatever was in the room with her was too far-gone—the body she was sure to find was beyond her magic.
Locking the door behind her, the goddess took one final breath of clean air and examined her surroundings. While most of the room appeared to be untouched, broken glass vases and shattered necklaces wove a tale of past struggle. Slid across the room was the Queen's sword, its gem-laden hilt shimmering in the firelight with its tip laced with blood, evidence that the queen had at least wounded her captor, but only just.
Eir felt her heart start to race as she thought of the Queen. If Frigga, the most powerful woman in the realm was to succumb to whatever evil befell Asgard, how was she supposed to live? Suddenly, Loki's words became all the more poignant. She didn't have the luxury she afforded everyone else; if something were to happen to her, she would fall victim like a common mortal. For the first time in a while, she felt truly powerless.
"I have been waiting."
Turning around, the healer locked eyes with a pair of transparent blue from across the room. Hidden in a corner was the queen's body—thrown against the elegant backdrop with no respect. Covering her mouth, the goddess cringed as she locked eyes with the foggy, rotting ones of the queen. Her body was bloated, with a rainbow of grotesque colors, and her skin had slipped off like gloves. Looking at the ghost walking towards her, she gave a sympathetic look.
"T'was painful, but not lengthy." Frigga remarked, "Dying was not the worst part of death."
Bowing to the apparition, Eir tried to stop herself from meeting the eyes of the body.
"My queen, why has your spirit not travelled to Valhalla?
The queen looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Because I knew you would return."
As the spirit walked past her, Eir felt a chill run down her body. It was a different type of cold, different from when Loki's fingers danced across her skin or she was caught outside in a frost. No, the type of chill the queen emitted was otherworldly and unsettling. For inexplicable reasons, she wanted to run.
"Tis odd, looking at you now." Frigga remarked, "One of my most valued handmaidens, yet you look every bit the warrior."
"I pray I can play the part well, Milady."
Frigga's spirit was quiet for a moment, her blue eyes looking appraisingly. Her eyes looked judgmental, her face looking much younger but sterner. Eir knew that it was a terrible gift, her eyesight—and as she was forced to look into the cold eyes of the dead queen, she wished she saw just like everyone else.
"Why did you save him?"
Beyond the sound of thunder and screaming, Eir could hear the beating of her own heart. It was positively racing, and when the queen looked down at her with strict eyes, she felt powerless once again. She didn't know whether to tell the truth, or simply lie—to die in Frigga's favor. She knew what Frigga wanted her to say, but that was not the reason she saved him. Part of her so desperately wanted to lie, part of her wanted to mend whatever tear had happened in their relationship, but another part of her was winning.
"You told us to pack lightly—to take only that which was most precious." Eir reminded, her voice barely above a whisper, "To me, that was your son."
To her surprise, a small smile ghosted across the figure's face.
"I thought as much."
Standing up, Eir came face to face with the ghostly sprite. This time, Frigga's face looked warmer, her features softening with what looked like sympathy.
"I have asked too much of you." Frigga sighed, "I have asked you to work well beyond exhaustion. I have asked you to learn more than anyone should—I have asked you to give up happiness in the name of Asgard."
She paused for a moment.
"I fear I must call upon you one more time."
"Anything, Milady."
"I have something you must tell my sons." Frigga explained quietly, "It must reach them, no matter the cost."
There was only one cost that truly mattered.
"It would be an honor to die for Asgard."
And as the words danced across her ears, Eir couldn't help her gilded eyes from shooting open. What Frigga spoke of would change everything—would fundamentally alter the course of this battle. For the first time since the ordeal started, Eir felt like they could win. It was information worthy of its likely cost.
Running down the halls, Natasha opened and closed large doors. Captain had ordered them to split up, to search for survivors or something worse. Whatever killed the Warriors Three was lurking around the palace, and they needed to find it. With each investigation of a room, the Black Widow gave a sigh of relief—pleased that she had not come face to face with her demise. The palace was huge, much larger than any structure she had seen on Earth, and finding this monster could take days. Still, she couldn't give up.
She knew why Captain was so adamant about it, too. He had become friends with the Asgardians, and seeing them cut open and displayed was enough to throw anyone over the edge. He wanted to make sure that their deaths were not in vain, that he did whatever he could to end this war. Captain may have been a solider, one of the best in the world, but he was a friend first. She had to respect him for that.
Turning a corner, the woman stopped as a faint chiming caught her attention. It sounded like metal on metal, an almost clanging sound, accompanied by a weak scream. Dashing further down the hall, the noises only became louder, the pleading and screaming only becoming more desperate. Eying a large door, the assassin entered the room and held her breath.
It was dark and, unlike everywhere else in the palace, the floor was made of stone. In the corner of the room was a small window, the faint firelight of the battle glowing against the cold features in the room. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, Natasha noticed the source of the begging locked within a cell—their hands bloodied and their face positively desperate.
The woman behind the bars looked completely broken, her cheeks stained from tears and her gorgeous evening gown dirtied with filth and blood. She looked starved, her lips broken and her hair a mess. Though sickly, she could tell that the Asgardian would have been very beautiful, outside of such circumstances. She had almost platinum blonde hair, and her eyes were the most stunning shade of blue she had ever seen. She looked almost supernatural, her features elfish and mystical, but it was the sorrow on her face that was most pronounced.
"Please!" she begged, "Help me!"
Noticing a ring of keys on the opposite side of the room, the assassin started to unlock the rusted lock with the many options the ring held.
"Thank you for coming." The woman whispered, her hand going out of the cell to touch the mortal, "I have been held captive for weeks."
Raising an eyebrow, Natasha sent a confused look towards the woman. Upon searching the palace, it seemed as if this girl was the only Asgardian kept alive. Room after room was filled with dead bodies, so why was this one spared?
"They were keeping me alive for him." The Asgardian shivered, her blue eyes seemingly reading the question locked on the mortal's lips, "They wanted to make Loki suffer."
Cursing, Natasha went through another key that failed to work.
"I told them our betrothal was in name only." The woman explained quietly, "They were going to kill me because of him."
Trying yet another key, the agent watched as the woman began to cry. If her information was correct, this meant that the woman she was trying to rescue was Sigyn, Loki's betrothed. The woman looked miserable, her words painting a picture of a loveless relationship arranged beyond her wishes. It wasn't surprising, really—Loki and Thor were royalty. She had known enough royals to know this wasn't uncommon.
"That monster said he was going to quarter me!" she sobbed, "He said he was going to keep me alive just enough so I could watch them tear me piece from piece."
Finally unlocking the cell, Natasha grabbed the shaking hands of the woman and went to work on the shackles. Her wrists were infected, the metal of the shackles cutting and reopening old wounds, and she couldn't help but cringe when she tried to unlock them and failed.
"I never agreed to this." Sigyn spat, her eyes looking down at her broken wrists, "I will not die for Loki. I love Theoric. I have always loved Theoric."
Unlocking the cuffs, Natasha was pulled into an unwilling hug before accepting a quiet 'thank you' from the Asgardian. Sigyn was grateful, it was evident in all of her stunning features, but there was also something else. Natasha had been an assassin for most of her life, she had been trained in the most rigorous forms of interrogation, had learned to read any form of body language, and something was not right. Despite the obvious pain the woman had endured, there was another emotion on her face that set off a warning in the back of Natasha's mind.
Looking at her more critically, the agent suddenly knew exactly what was wrong with the whole situation. Sigyn had just recounted everything, she had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Loki, and yet she was still alive. Natasha had been to many interrogations, she had performed more than she would like to admit, and she knew well enough that organizations didn't keep useless creatures alive.
"What did you tell them?"
Upon her question, the Black Widow watched as the Asgardian looked visibly taken aback. Almost instantaneously, the woman's face turned from desperation to something a little more sinister. She knew the mask the woman was wearing, as she had worn the face of guilt many times, but what was she guilty for? It seemed as though loyal Sigyn didn't exactly live up to the moniker old prose gave her.
"I would not die for that monster."
Nervously, the Asgardian started to grab the dirtied lacing of her gown before finally answering:
"I told them who should."
Swallowing hard, Eir could feel her breath hitch in her throat. There was a chill in the air, an almost electric tingle that made her hair stand on edge. Gripping the glowing stone that hung from around her neck, the woman cast her gilded eyes around her still surroundings. Though she could not see another living soul, she felt as though hungry eyes were on her.
Quickening her pace, the Goddess could feel the pounding in her chest and the echo of her heartbeat as she dashed down the halls of the palace. All around her was a presence that was undeniably evil. In her ears, she could hear a haunting laugh of an unseen ghost—she could feel the prickly breath against her skin.
With an almost phantom like motion, she was thrown towards the ground. Hissing under her breath, she could see the small plastic communicator slide across the metallic floors and just out of her reach. Whipping her head around, she was met with a pair of menacing yellow orbs, their owner chuckling ominously.
"Twelve." He started, walking agonizingly slow towards her position on the floor, "The number of attendants to the Allfather's queen."
The large alien seemed to look around the surroundings, almost assessing the area around them. For the first time, Eir noticed that they were situated right outside the handmaiden halls and in the corner of her eyes, she could see the dark silhouette of bloated bodies—her friends left unceremoniously to rot against Asgard's gilded floors. Trying to keep herself from throwing up, she looked back at the man with defiant eyes.
"In my youth I was told such stories about Frigga's hall." Thanos smirked, his words laced with satisfaction, "How she was attended to by the most beautiful of Asgardian women—some of whom were powerful Goddesses in their own rights."
Eir took a sharp intake of breath as his eyes bore into hers.
"Gna, the swiftest of travelers." He recited, "Snorta the wise."
He took more slow steps towards her.
"Lofn, protector of all love…no matter how illicit" He added, "And of course Eir—a young healer so powerful she could raise the dead."
Her heart stopped as he mentioned her name.
"Twelve handmaidens." He repeated ominously, "Yet only eleven bodies."
He locked his eyes with hers.
"Why don't we fix that?"
Focusing on the energy allotted to her by the stone, the woman concentrated her magic the best she could. With a snarled scream, Thanos grabbed his blistering face, and howled when he realized that he was out a good eye. Biting her lip, the woman felt her heartbeat quicken as she heard the unmistakable sound of bone breaking followed by the graceless limping of the Titan. Shooting up from the floor, she ran down the hall as quick as her legs would take her—her frantic breathing filling the hall.
Stopping to pick up the communicator, she looked back and cursed as she saw the Titan gaining. Concentrating further, she watched in satisfaction as the man grabbed his chest frantically—his hands trying to uncover whatever pain was manifesting itself below the surface. If she continued like this, it would be only minutes before he collapsed from cardiac arrest.
But before she could think further, she found her head slammed against the hard metallic surface of a wall. Choking, she wanted to scream as she felt a hot, large hand against her windpipe and furious, yellow eyes looking into her soul.
"You wretched woman!" he spat, spit hitting her face, "You will pay dearly for your stunt."
Unwilling tears left her eyes as he choked her harder. Fumbling her hand towards the stone on her neck, she was met only with a haunting laugh.
"I have no soul, Asgardian." He whispered, breath hot against her face and eyes trailing to her scarred hands, "Tis precisely the reason I can yield it, and you can't."
Her gold eyes tried to look strong, but she knew she was failing.
"Where is he?" Thanos hissed, "I know he's hiding—that pathetic coward!"
"I know not of whom you speak-"
The woman cringed as she was slammed against the wall and felt the warmth of blood trickle down her neck.
"Yes you do!" he spat, spit hitting her face, "Tell me!"
Swallowing hard once again, Eir looked into the face of The Destroyer of Worlds. As his grip tightened, she knew that she would not survive this encounter. His eyes were filled with a madness that she had never seen before—his words were laced with a malice that shook her. His breath continued to quicken against her face, and when she simply looked back at the man with the best defiance she could muster, he returned her one filled with crazed satisfaction.
"I hope he was worth it."
No longer holding back a scream, the goddess cried as she felt the sudden rush of her body falling towards the floor. The pressure of Thanos' hand on her neck was now replaced with the bright sting of metal against flesh, a pain indescribable. Rushing a shaking hand towards her throat, the woman's eyes widened as she was met with a bright crimson color. Thanos, like the snake he was, had disappeared just as quickly as it happened—taking her stone with him.
Holding pressure on her neck, the woman cursed as she saw the shine of the small earpiece a few meters away. Using what little magic she had, she summoned the device in her free hand and flipped it on. Shaking, the goddess started to panic as her pale arm became drenched in a deathly hue.
"Loki!" she screamed, "Anyone, please!"
Her breathing was becoming erratic as she listened to a lonely static.
"Please!" she cried, holding pressure harder, "Loki? Thor! Sif—anyone!"
This time, a voice came ringing back instead of static.
"What's wrong!?"
It was Loki.
Eyeing the growing crimson, the woman started to cry as she thought of everything she wanted to tell him over the small device. But as she continued to hear the panic in his voice, she remembered that there was a far more important message she had to give him—far more important than dying declarations and tear laden farewells.
"Your father still lives."
Thank you so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated! :)
Next chapter: "The Most Beautiful Lie."
PS: Thor Prelude comic? Hikari, I bought it and freaked out. Not going to lie. It also hit me right in the Loki feels.
