Okay, my inner tween horse girl kind of ran amok in this chapter. I made it extra long so it wouldn't only be that. Enjoy! (Also my buddy Kairos did an awesome drawing of a winged horse after we discussed them. It shouldn't be too deep on my tumblr, same username as here, but I've been posting a fair amount of Loki series meta so it might get buried soon.)
It was morning in the region Heimdall sent them to. Birds welcomed the day with competing songs and greenish gold light filtered down to them through the high canopy of leaves. Nearly all of Vanaheim's landmasses were covered in dense forest of some kind or other. It could sometimes feel claustrophobic; there were so many trees that you could never see very far in any direction, nor even catch much of a glimpse of the sky. Vanir cities and agriculture largely complemented the existing ecosystem rather than fighting with it, so there was a sense of being lost in the woods even in the heart of civilization.
They were certainly not in the heart of civilization now. Sif was glad Brunnhilde seemed to know where she was going, because she would've struggled to navigate her way through the massive trees from her memories of her single prior visit to the Matriarchs as a girl. Her head was starting to clear a bit and her legs were more solid under her, which was good, because the trees abruptly gave way to a sheer wall of vine-covered rock.
"Up we go," said Brunnhilde. She leapt onto the cliff face and began hauling herself up it. Sif followed, sometimes using vines as her handholds, sometimes cracks in the stone. Whinnying joined the birdsong on the wind. They broke through the treetops and she paused for a moment to watch a pair of winged horses racing each other up to the plateau. One was a dapple gray with the plumage of a bluejay, its companion a bay with wings like a golden eagle. Sif would never admit it aloud, but she'd always thought it a bit of a shame that only the silvery-white ones were ever chosen as mounts for Valkyrior.
About three times the height of the trees, they reached the top of the plateau, where the forest continued. The horses they'd seen earlier had perched in the branches to graze on moss and leaves.
A third horse—this one a palomino with creamy feathers and the spindly legs of one with some growing left to do—touched down smoothly in front of them. An adolescent girl hopped off his back, leaving a boy not long out of toddlerhood still astride with his chubby hands wound into the mane. "Amma Ulfrun said you were coming," said the girl. "She sent us to escort you."
The plateau village was much as Sif remembered it: the fruit trees, the leaf-strewn cobbled paths, the buildings of stone and vines woven into intricate knotwork—though she had noticed the winged horses more than the people then. The village was older than Asgard itself, as was the tradition the Valkyrior came from. They and their families had been here, living alongside the horses, for aeons.
"We're nearly there," said the girl leading them.
The little boy twisted around dangerously on the colt's back to look at Sif and Brunnhilde. One wing lifted to keep him from losing his balance. "Amma Ulfrun is helping Glaer with her babies," he informed them. "She's having twins."
X
The PhD brigade managed to recover the most from the supreme awkwardness left by whatever fight the princes were having, while the Warriors Three looked like they didn't know what to do with themselves. Darcy could fix a third of that, but Volstagg and Hogun were gonna have to fend for themselves. "Well," she said loudly, pushing back her plate and standing up. "This has been tense and weird, but I think I'm gonna call it a night." She fixed Fandral with a pointed gaze as she said it.
"Allow me to escort you to your chambers," he said, springing up and offering his arm. Darcy caught Jane rolling her eyes and retaliated by sticking her tongue out.
The corridor beyond the princes' hall was empty. "So, ambassador to Jotunheim, huh?" she said, hip-checking Fandral as they walked (lightly—Asgardian physiology, not to mention armor, meant putting any kind of oomph into it would only result in bruises for her).
"I'm not at all confident I'm the best man for the job, but if my princes wish it, then I shall gladly bend my considerable charms towards this hope of alliance." He was trying to sound glib but not quite masking the earnest determination and nervousness underneath.
Darcy hid a smile. "That's a pretty different tune than the one you were singing at the banquet."
"Yes, well, you left me with quite a lot to think on. Most of it unpleasant. I hope I won't be such a shitty friend in future."
"Mm-hmm." He totally deserved "dashing" as a moniker. Much more so, in her opinion, now that it looked like he was capable of taking biting snark as constructive criticism.
"I'm truly fortunate the Allfather has granted me a second chance at that."
"Mm-hmm." He might have slightly more potential than as a temporary makeout buddy. Might. And slightly.
"I suppose I always took it for granted that I'm the sort to uphold my oaths. I had to consider what those oaths meant."
"Mm-hmm." They had reached her door.
"And if Loki is a better example of the Jotnar than Laufey, which is what Thor believes, then I would certainly prefer them as allies than enemies."
"Yeah, introspection sexy. Shut up."
"As the lady commands," said Fandral, bending down to kiss her while she fumbled behind her for the latch.
X
At the center of the village was an enormous tree with the plateau's largest open-roofed stable nestled in its roots. The distressed neighs of the laboring mare inside were answered with equal desperation by a pure black stallion just outside. Several white-haired women were trying to calm the expectant father, but he beat his wings and kicked at anyone who came near him.
"What's wrong?" Sif asked one of the lads at the nearest fruit stall. "Why's that stallion so upset?"
"I heard them saying the first foal is breech," he said, tone grim. "They won't let Sinir go to Glaer, even put a barrier spell up, and he's been going mad over it."
Brunnhilde forgot the nerves the voda had temporarily drowned. She darted forward, leaving Sif and their young guides behind. She dodged between two of the women, rolled past a pair of plunging hooves, and came up face-to-face with Sinir. "Easy," she said, searching for a connection like what had always come so naturally with Svinnavoengr. It was mad to try on a horse she'd never met, particularly when he was in this state, but he cut off mid-scream, eyes locked on hers. It was like floodgates opening and his terror came pouring into her. She gritted her teeth against it, reaching up to the sides of his head. "Easy, boy. You know Ulfrun will take care of them."
He stilled for a moment, but the connection went both ways, and the last time it had been open was when she'd felt Svinna's life cut short. The stallion's nostrils flared and he tossed his mane. He tried to rear up but she held on even though her feet briefly left the ground. She fought to bring her focus to a different day. One much earlier. Another foaling day, not long after she'd had to fire a flaming arrow into her mother's funeral boat. The day she met Svinna. "She was breech too," she said. "And they were both fine. Ulfrun didn't let us down then and she won't let you down now."
Sinir partially furled and unfurled his wings in agitation, but his breathing began to slow. Glaer screamed again inside and there was a boom—probably a hoof striking the wall of the foaling stall. Brunnhilde pressed her forehead to Sinir's. He didn't fight this time. Then they heard a faint whinny. Sinir's ears perked up, the fear in him turned to excitement. Brunnhilde smiled and backed off of the connection. "See? That's the first one. The second will be easier for her."
"You haven't lost your touch."
Brunnhilde turned. Three of the Matriarchs were now cautiously approaching Sinir again, but the fourth was watching her shrewdly. "Atla," said Brunnhilde, inclining her head. Atla was likely the youngest of the Matriarchs. She'd fought in the earliest battles of the Aesir-Jotnar war and lost an arm to the elbow from their frostbite. The Dvergar had crafted her an excellent prosthetic, but the war wasn't so desperate that she'd been expected to return to it.
"We were worried he would hurt himself even if he didn't manage to kick one of us, and then Ulfrun would have four patients instead of three. Still, I know what it cost you to be able to help him. I'm sorry for that."
"What it cost?" said Sif, who had caught up with them and looked like she didn't know what to do with herself, which made two of them.
Atla's expression went a little flat at the sight of Sif. "Back again, are you? Not with the same request, I hope."
Sif's cheeks reddened.
"I brought her along with me," said Brunnhilde. "We both wanted some time away from Asgard."
Atla nodded. "Brunnhilde made a temporary seidr bond with Sinir," she explained. "It's the first step to bonding a winged horse for life, and it can only be done with one of them at a time, which is why none of us could." She turned back to Brunnhilde. "That must've been a painful wound to reopen. Are you alright?"
"Already had it reopened for me," Brunnhilde muttered, stroking Sinir's neck. "Didn't make that much of a difference."
The air around the stable shimmered gold. "Oh, the barrier's down," said Atla. "Would you like to meet your little ones now, Sinir?"
Sinir snorted and bobbed his head enthusiastically. He seemed ready to bolt into the stable, whether through the doors or the roof, but with Brunnhilde's hand on him, he let them set the pace.
From the door, they could just see into Glaer's stall, where the exhausted new mother had her head resting in Ulfrun's lap. Ulfrun looked up at them, her brilliant gold eyes glinting like stars out of a wrinkled face even darker than her son's. The last time Brunnhilde had seen her, the wrinkles had been fine lines around her eyes and mouth and her braids were only touched with gray. Now they were as white as Glaer's Valkyrior regulation coat.
They drew closer until they could see the rest of Glaer, the two foals, and the mess of the afterbirth. Sinir whinnied happily, and Glaer echoed him with as much energy as she could muster. The foals were still damp, all gangly legs they hadn't quite figured out how to use and tiny folded wings mostly covered in fuzz except for the partially developed flight feathers. It would take months to be sure of their coat colors and plumage, but odds were one of them got the dominant silver gene.
Brunnhilde and Sif stood back out of the way while the Matriarchs and a few stablehands bustled about, replacing the soiled straw with fresh, bringing in buckets of oats, and refilling the water trough. Glaer was back on her feet in minutes, patiently allowing the women to clean her up. A few minutes more and the foals were taking wobbly first steps. Brunnhilde glanced at Sif and saw her beaming ear to ear. She still thought Sif was a bit of an idealistic fool, but she had to agree with that reaction.
X
Loki didn't move from his balcony after Frigga left. No ravens arrived from The King's Spear, and Brunnhilde's new quarters remained dark. Was there a way to satisfy both her and his father? Considering what his mother had said, he thought there might be one. He was so lost in thought trying to work out an answer that he was startled when pink and gold began creeping across the eastern horizon.
He wanted to talk to someone about this. Someone impartial, unlike everyone on Asgard who already knew of Hela. But he didn't want to go far. He wanted to be available the second Brunnhilde would let him speak to her. He'd also love to vent some of his frustration through a bit of mischief. If only there were a way to accomplish both at once.
X
Heimdall was never bored at his post. There was always so much to see. Many of the Aesir he ferried across the Bifrost seemed to think he must be dreadfully lonely, but he found it more peaceful. Whenever the solitude did begin to wear on him, he could look to Vanaheim and have a conversation with his mother. She was hardly ever too busy with the horses for a word. He couldn't go to her and she had no interest in returning to Asgard, but with her sight as sharp as ever, communicating with her was as simple as if she were in the Observatory with him.
"That girl's as devoted to the House of Odin as she was when she was a child," Ulfrun muttered. "If she'd seen what I have…"
"It is a devotion we have in common," said Heimdall. "Though I've seen nearly as much."
"Ha!" she barked. "We've all sworn our oaths, but only a fool is blindly loyal."
"And only you are no longer in service to the throne." For all her pretense of ill humor, he could tell she was pleased to have the two visitors, and the foals were doing exceptionally well after the difficult birth. A few months from now, they would be able to start flying with their parents. That gap between foaling and flight was the foundation of the symbiotic relationship between the horses and the people who cared for them. You could never call the creatures tame, but they didn't forget the debt they owed.
"Good morning, Heimdall."
"I'm surprised to hear you call it that, my prince."
Loki joined him in the center of the round chamber, looking out at the stars. "I intend to make it one."
"How can I assist you with that? If you wish me to send you to Niflheim alone, I'm afraid the Allfather has personally ensured that realm cannot be reached by Bifrost."
"Of course you already know about my plan. Do you think I'm mad as well?"
"It is a difficult position. Hela's crimes are nearly unrivaled across Yggdrasil, yet if we cannot trust in her prison and execution is not an option, something must change."
"If only there weren't so many obstacles to that perspective," said Loki. "Tell me, where, precisely, is Tony Stark at the moment?"
"You want to visit Midgard again?"
"Where is he?"
X
Thor stood at the head of the console in the council room, where Odin usually stood. He could only assume his father was letting him take charge as a distraction from the Hela madness, but seeing as it was the exact distraction he'd wanted, he could hardly complain. Loki was there too, but like Odin, he had stayed silent for the entire meeting while Thor discussed the Dokkalfar mothership with General Tyr and his top lieutenants. They knew much more now about the Dokkalfar technology thanks to the scouting missions to the battlefield on Svartalfheim and the work of Jane and the others.
"The armada should be able to surround Malekith's ship easily," said General Tyr, touching the console and adding gleaming golden projections of Asgardian ships. "Even if they cloak again, they won't be able to get past us before we board them."
"We should hold the armada at a distance," said Thor. "We can use the transporters to get a boarding party inside before their alert system pulls them out of their slumber. Then we can destroy their propulsion and cloaking mechanisms."
"It won't be much of a battle then," muttered one of the lieutenants.
"Don't underestimate them," said Thor. "That ship is capable of taking Gladsheim in an hour, in spite of all our defenses. I won't give Malekith the opportunity."
"Who do you want for the boarding party?" said Loki.
Thor shot him a glare but mastered himself. He didn't want to start any rumors about a rift between them, and no matter what stupid ideas Loki had come up with, he deserved a part in stopping Malekith from getting anywhere near Frigga as much as Thor did.
"You and I will each take a transporter," he said. "We'll bring Sif, the Warriors Three, and Tyr's best two teams of Einherjar."
X
"Stark is flying out over the ocean near New York City in his mechanical suit," said Heimdall. "He is several leagues out, due east from his residence there."
"Excellent," said Loki. "Thank you." With that, he dispelled the projection he'd sent to the Observatory, though not the one in the council chambers. With a glance at the grate concealing the Destroyer, he crossed the remaining distance in the Vault to the plinth where the Tesseract now sat.
X
Tony definitely wasn't imagining that JARVIS's response times were getting slower. A brief flight off the coast was enough to prove that. It was barely noticeable now, but it could become a real problem in a combat situation. Or, say, if he needed a heads up because Hydra had put a hit out on him and brainwashed assassins could be around any corner. He'd planned on giving JARVIS the usual programming touchups this summer anyway; he might as well bump that up.
He turned to head back to the penthouse. He was about twenty miles out; the New York skyline was just visible over the horizon. Romanoff was supposed to make contact soon about whether she'd dug up any leads on Barnes. Rogers, who was staying in one of the guest suites instead of going back to SHIELD's creepily sterile dormitories, was alternating between reading depressing dossiers and getting a feel for 2011 New York while they waited for news from either Romanoff or JARVIS.
Out of absolutely nowhere, a small black cloud appeared directly in Tony's path. Three thoughts struck him in quick succession in the space of about a second: 1) that looks like flack from anti-aircraft artillery, 2) that's ridiculous; nobody would be firing triple-A at Iron Man inside US airspace, and 3) also, pretty sure flack doesn't crackle with threads of blue light. He decided not to hit the brakes. Game on, mysterious foe.
"Weapons system armed, sir," said JARVIS. The targeting system was just beginning to attempt to assess the weird smoke when it abruptly widened into a ring. There was no time to stop or change direction, and Tony flew straight through it. It was like someone had flipped the lever on a View-Master toy. He blinked and instead of the distant city over the ocean, he was suddenly flying just a couple dozen feet off the ground straight at a pile of felled trees and uprooted boulders. He couldn't turn sharply enough to avoid plowing into one of the trees in a shower of splintering bark. The next few seconds were a violent haze of tumbling impacts until he finally rolled to a stop.
"What the hell?" he groaned. "JARVIS, where are we?"
There was a sputter of vaguely English-accented static, but he couldn't pick out any words from it. From his position, he could see the not-flack, which shrank back from a ring to a cloud and vanished. With it went the last traces of JARVIS's attempts to speak.
Tony was out of range. He'd been all over the planet in the suit and never been out of range. Maybe the mysterious cloud had disrupted JARVIS's signal.
...Or maybe Tony wasn't on Earth anymore.
I'm really trying not to get too carried away with the worldbuilding around the flying horse culture but...horsies. With wings. Sinir and Glaer and their babies probably won't become moderately important characters like the House of Freyr but I love them.
How's everyone enjoying the Loki show? I freaking love it so far, and I promise I had this bit of mischief in the fic planned before it started and we finally got to see canon Loki being gleefully mischievous rather than angrily villainous. Feeling pretty validated in my characterization of him.
Okay, major tangent now. I've dabbled in designing nerdy graphic tees for years and one of them finally got accepted by shirt. woot!. It's Scarlet Witch, Doctor Strange, and Loki in the style of the Powerpuff Girls, and it's called "Chaos, Mischief, and Everything Strange." I can't post the link here, but I'm also Taaroko on Woot, and the design should be searchable by its title. It's in the June Garage Sale.