The village was shrouded in fog and eerie silence. The people hidden in their homes, behind locked doors and closed shutters. Still trembling from the sounds of the battle of Gods. Still fearful the armies will return.

But one soul braved the early morning chill.

A young woman wrapped in a thick woolen shawl stepped out of the house on the very edge of the village and carefully closed the door. She did not wish to wake up the one who stayed behind to rest, for she needed it, her body still tired from last night's strain.

Only the seagulls saw her turn away from the sleepy settlement and head towards the fjords. Only the small mouse that ran across the path she walked saw the basket she carried in her arms, the precious cargo she did not wish to drop.

Only the sun that battled the mist saw the tears that streamed down her pale cheeks.

For as precious as the weight in her arms was, Briita knew she was going to have to give it up. He was lost to them.

The precious little boy her sister carried and gave birth to during the night. The little boy who didn't take a single breath, his soul leaving his tiny body and so denying his mother the privilege of raising him.

The comfort of holding on to the last reminded of the husband she lost a mere two and a half month ago.

A sudden gush of wind howled around her and she stopped, green eyes widening as she looked around to see where the strange sound came from. It sounded... it sounded almost like a cry of a child.

A sigh escaped her as she decided it was all in her mind. A wishful thinking for something that will never be.

"Sleep, baby, sleep..." the young woman sang a lullaby under her breath and pulled the basket closer to her chest, a sob escaping as she approached the narrow path that would take her to the water. To the small cove her people used to send their dead to the afterlife.

It was there that Briita built a small pyre and placed her sister's son on top. And she wept as the fire started to surround his small body, dressed in a shirt she made for him from the finest cloth she had.

And she wept for her sister who was miles away, grieving in solitude, in a house they shared for two months now. And for the man her sister married, the foreigner with dark hair and eyes, that left too soon.

She didn't wait the fire to burn down completely, instead she turned away and started to draining trek back up the steep cliff of the fjord.

"Farewell." she spoke as she turned for the last time towards the funeral pyre, before the path took it out of her sight.

The fog lost the battle against the raising sun and she could now see the path beneath her feet better. The sharp stones and patches of grass. The brown dirt and lovely wild flowers. Flowers she briefly considered picking and taking back home to decorate the dull reality her sister will face.

But the wind once more brought with it the sound that made her gasp. The cries that broke her heart. And she started to run.

The path was narrow and dangerous, but her steps never slowed down. And neither did the cries the wind carried. Her breath was coming out in gasps now, her muscles screaming. But Briita never slowed down.

Not until she reached the top of the fjord and looked around.

And her heart clenched as the cries suddenly stopped. And she gasped for a deep breath before she started to walk through the grass, her green eyes watching around for any signs of a child she heard.

"Where are you?" a panicky whisper escaped her lips.

Only the howling wind answered.

The tall grass made it difficult for Briita to walk until she stepped on the large area where it was stomped and sprayed with something dark.

Her eyes widened and she turned away to look towards the settlement. It was hidden from behind the hill but she knew the general direction in which it was, even without seeing it. And she knew where she was standing.

At the sight where the unseen battle was fought during the night.

Her people rarely came in this direction; there were pastures closer to their village, plants that grew here weren't used for medicine or cooking. There was nothing here.

Save for the footsteps in the soft ground. Large footsteps, hundreds of them. Walking, running, stomping. The clear proof a battle truly took place in this area.

The young woman stood as if frozen and looked around. She didn't know much about fighting but it was obvious a carnage happened here.

Something strange caught her eye and Briita turned closer to the edge of the cliff. It was much steeper than the one they used, the one she climbed up and down in the past hour. But someone still traveled it. Someone braved enough to dare facing the certain death from a fall.

The path was narrow.

And Briita took it.

And found an opening in the side of the cliff.

The sun that defeated the thick fog was losing against the storm clouds that were starting to gather, and so the day became darker by the minute. Entering a cave during such time was dangerous.

Still she did.

And inside the inner cave, illuminated by the flickering light of the dying torch, lied what she was looking for this whole time.

A child.

He was blue, and had odd markings all over his tiny body. He was placed on the soft fur but wasn't wrapped in it, instead he was left exposed to the chilly air. For a moment she wondered if he was even alive, she wondered if perhaps she would be carrying his small body down to the cove and make yet another funeral pyre today.

But his chest moved as he breathed and his tiny fingers formed a fist before his angelic face twisted into a grimace. And a shrill cry echoed through the empty cave. In that moment Briita was certain she never heard a more beautiful sound.

His small body was light when she picked him up, but it was still difficult because he was wiggling like a fish. But she held him securely; this surprising gift that was abandoned for her to find.

For a moment she worried, not knowing how he would live among the villagers. Afraid he would be shunned, hated... killed. The people disliked those who are different, newcomers from foreign lands. And this little boy would never be accepted. Not like this.

She couldn't properly see the color of his eyes when he opened them, but she noticed the change in them. And in his skin.

A gasp escaped Briita's lips at the sight of the blue skin slowly turning soft pink, of the strange ridges vanishing from sight. Moments after picking up a child that would never fit in she held a boy that looked just like any other.

Just like the one her sister lost during the night.

It was what made her certain she was making the right decision.

Her basket was still where she left it, a soft blanket inside. It was thick and woolen and should keep him warm until she reached the village and the warm house she shared with her sister.

Along the way up the cliff his cries turned to quiet sobs, and by the time he was securely wrapped in blanket he calmed down completely.

By the time she reached the settlement he was asleep.

Eldrid didn't bother to look towards the door as they opened and a person wrapped in a scarf walked in. She knew who it was. She didn't really care. She didn't care about anything anymore.

"How are you?" Briita asked quietly before placing her basket carefully on the desk. She didn't want to disturb the precious little boy sleeping in it.

"It matters not. Leave me alone, sister."

"I can not do that. I love you. And there is something... something I found." the younger woman sat opposite of her mourning sister and took her hand, "I found the place of the unseen battle."

"You found what? Why would you go there?!" Eldrid asked angrily, "What if someone remained? You should not have gone there! I can not lose you as well!"

"I had to go there. I had to find it." Briita said with a small smile. A smile that made her sister frown.

"Find what?" she asked suspiciously.

The younger blond took out the wrap from the basket and placed it in her sister's lap before gently moving the soft blanket to reveal what was sleeping inside the cocoon of warmth. Instantly Eldrid gasped and looked up at her sister, her green eyes widening in shock.

"I heard his cries and found him in a cave. There was no one there, he was all alone. Sister, he was..." Briita didn't know how to say what she saw. Didn't know how her sister would react at the revelation.

"He was what?"

"Blue. And then he looked at me, and his skin turned pink... It was like magic."

Eldrid looked down on the small infant that slept in her arms. He looked like any other child born in their village. Like a normal human babe.

"What will happen to him?" she finally asked.

Briita looked down in her lap, she knew what she wished to suggest might upset her sister, but if they wanted to protect this abandoned child they didn't have many options.

"No one knows what happened last night. No one knows your son died." she spoke timidly and paused when Eldrid took in a deep breath, "I thought... maybe you could..."

"Raise him as my own. Instead of the son I no longer have." she finished her sister's sentence.

Briita nodded quietly and the silence shrouded the room for what felt like hours. Both sisters were aware the little boy's true nature must be kept a secret. There is no way of truly knowing what the villagers would do to him.

Even if they spared his life and accepted him eventually the tale would spread and others might come to hunt and kill him. To have his skin as a trophy.

"The unseen armies that fought left him behind. He is a gift from Gods themselves."

Eldrid smiled as the little boy yawned and opened his eyes. If she had any other doubts before his gaze made her certain she was making the right decision.

"I will not give you the name of my lost son." she told the baby, "I will call you Lael."

The large hall was empty, silent as a tomb.

Laufey sat quietly on his icy throne, looking in the distance but not seeing anything. His mind far away... on a different realm where he gained and lost what was more important to him.

Only when he heard the footsteps approaching did he forced himself to focus on the present. On the guards that came to report the delegation from Alfheim had returned home without incidents. The king merely nodded and waived him off.

Things went as he had expected them.

It would have been quite a shock if the end result was any different. After all his kind was seen as monsters by the other realms, tolerated solemnly because destroying them would unbalance the Yggdrasil.

The Jotun king stood up and retreated to his chambers; large icy room that he shared with his wife. It was not as grand and ornate as the chambers of Asgard, warm and inviting as the ones in the palace in Alfheim, masterfully decorated as the room he once stayed in during the trade negotiations with the king of Vanaheim.

It was cold like their realm, blue like their skin, with a bed made out of black metal and decorated with stones red as their eyes. And in the bed rested Farabauti, the queen of Jotunheim who mourned her lost son.

"What did they say?" a quiet question made Laufey sigh. It was the only answer his wife needed, "I am not surprised. We are the monsters they told their children about."

"Nothing is decided yet." he spoke.

Farabauti angrily pushed the fur that covered her off and sat up, "Everything is decided! The realms do not care!"

"My queen-"

"NO!" she shouted, "Do not tell me it will be alright! Do not tell me we will have justice! Because you know it is not true! No one will question Odin's decision, no one will confront him with the truth! You know!"

"Someday, my love... someday we ensure justice is served."

Farabauti quietly shook her head. She knew he meant what he said, but she also knew Laufey was willing to say anything to ease her boundless pain. Her guilt... self-hatred. The Jotun queen moved her weak limbs and stood up, ignoring the food left for her. She had no appetite. No will to continue.

"I should have never left his side." she spoke quietly after stepping next to her mate and looked out of the large window carved in live ice. The view was breathtaking, at least for their race. Aesir would frown at the glittering ice mountains and crystal clear rivers.

"Your blood demanded you come to my aid, you know that. There was no possible way for you to resist the urge, not even for our son."

"But I should have resisted! I should have stayed by his side, died with him!"

Laufey thought his heart would completely shatter at his wife's words, the heart many doubted he even possessed. But he did, and it hurt. He never got to see his son, never got to hold him. His son will never grow up to become a great mage and someday sit on the icy throne of Jotunheim.

All that because the damn Asgardians decided to attack them.

Farabauti sighed and looked at her mate when he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. The look in his eyes was unlike anything she saw previously.

"If you had died that night there would be nothing left for me to live for... nothing I wouldn't be willing to do to avenge your lives." his voice was strong and Farabauti, who was well known among their people to be able to tell when a person was lying, recognized the truth in his words.

But also the impossible task Laufey would have in front of him.

"The Casket is lost to us. You would never be able to make Asgard pay."

"Dearest, I would have destroyed Jotunheim itself if I could not have found a different way to make Odin pay; because that would ruin the balance of Yggdrasil and extinguish the World tree."

"Do not say things like that." the Jotun queen whispered.

"It is the truth. For you and our nameless son I would have been the one who brought Ragnarok."

Farabauti turned towards her mate and placed a hand on his cheek. Her eyes watched his face, familiar ridges she knew by heart.

"He was not nameless." she finally told him, "Before I left him with Angrboda I have given him a name. I called him Loki."

I had the option to use a translator and have characters speak Norwegian, and then have English translation on the bottom of the chapter. I decided not to do that.

Instead I chose not to be historically correct and have characters living in Norway a thousand years ago use English.

Both for the sake of my sanity and not to have readers having to scroll up and down to figure out what's going on.