RAGNAROK IS COMING

— Chapter Three —

When Fire Burns

Fire. There was a raging fire ravaging his body. His throat, his chest, flames licked their way through every inch of him. That was the only explanation for the all-consuming pain he felt scorching the very thoughts from his mind. The only thing he could comprehend was the pain- and it burned.

Nothing else mattered, not time, nor place- except for one thing: an overwhelming sense of loss. As if everything he knew to be good and pure, everything he loved, was destroyed and torn apart right in front of him. And the worst part was that he had accepted the loss, made his peace with it; he knew whatever it was, it was never coming back. An emptiness settled in his chest, the loss of something. Something so big, so massively colossal, that without it, he felt empty. Without that shining thing of so much beauty, he was worthless, and nothing mattered.

Then suddenly, the fire vanished. There wasn't even the slightest trace suggesting that the pain he had once felt completely unbearable even existed. He felt unsettlingly cold, too cold. Something wasn't right.

Concentrating, he tried to remember where or even who he was. A name, a purpose, a reason of self at least, but he found nothing.

Then, without warning, a scream pierced through the empty silence. It was like nothing he had ever heard before. It dripped with utter grief. The sound an animal makes before it dies. A heavy scream of agony and suffering. Every sense in his body ached with the rumbles of its vibration, and it felt as if it shook his very core.

He had never felt such grief, such- sobs. That was sobbing he heard, the sound of crying. It wasn't, though; it was more than that. The kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope.

Every nerve in his body ached and rumbled with the vibration as if it shook his very core. As, finally like the fire, the screech stopped, he could still feel the stinging side-effects linger in his ears. He could still hear a phantom echo wailing and withering.

But now? Now he felt nothing. No pain was nagging and agitating every nerve in his body. Not even a whisper of the scream echoed in his ears. It was almost worse. Almost.

But then there was a faint humming in the background, like the almost mute flutter of scritta wings. It irritated his sensitive ears, and he shook his head to try to expel the sound.

"My Lord?" Something shook him. There was a voice. It sounded- panicked, distant as if muffled by cloth.

"My Lord?" He felt a burning desire to answer, but he couldn't remember his name. 'Lord'? It certainly wasn't that.

"Lord Avrid!"

He bolted upright, and with speed faster than humanly possible, he had his sword in hand and stood with it pointing rod-straight in front of him. There was no tremor in his stance, and his hands did not shake. The object of his potential assault stood statue-straight. She was a plump woman. Her wispy black hair pulled tight to her head. A white cap was fastened neatly on her head and a white apron adorned with plain grey attire. Holes were visible here and there, the usual garments for a servant.

The woman's throat gulped, and only then did Avrid notice the silver of his blade at her throat and the trickle of sweat dew on her forehead. Instantly, he pulled his sword back and took a significant stride until the backs of his knees hit the bed frame. He turned an agitated gaze on the women in front of him.

The servant shook like a leaf. She was afraid for her life, and with her heart pounding so fast, it felt as if it was trying to claw out from her chest cavity.

She'd heard stories of the man before her. Lord Avrid Gúigráìn Oläńń of the Crowns, Elder to the Radox and sire to Lord Keaton. He was said to be dangerous and cruel, incapable of compassion and killed men for sport. She had a right to be afraid of such a man; she had the right to be very afraid.

But, it just so happened to be her luck to end up alerting this side of the castle that breakfast was ready—the side of the building where the Radox were guests to his majesty, King Odin.

Despite one of her organs currently making its one-way trip to Vaniheim, she was not one to leave a job undone. So, against her better judgement, she eyeballed a random stain on her apron to avoid his anger or annoyance and cleared her throat.

"M- My Lord, breakfast is r- ready," she squeaked, and in record time, she shuffled out the door as fast as her stumpy legs could carry her.

Lord Avrid watched the servant flutter away and silently scolded her recklessness in waking him. He could have killed her as easy as he would slice butter had he not come to his senses.

Yawning, Avrid massaged his still slumbering eyes- who both refused to wake up and slid his blade, Forseti, back into her sheath, sitting on his bed.

Although Radox gave him the task of dealing with Midgard, he wasn't planning on going without a fight. Like putting a child in the corner, they were punishing him for the Herman case. However, it was typical Urfan style to reach out to him after Avrid did the job.

Avrid was pissed.

Urfan, one of the 'Leaders of Radox', otherwise known as the Firsts, knew he came from Midgard. He damn knew how he avoided Midgard like one would a plague. Either it was downright selfishness, stupidity, cruelty or all three that made his sire forget that Midgard was not a realm he planned on visiting any time soon, or ever.

"Morning! Is my little, pent-up-mushy-ball-of-anger ready for his big day?" Liogoo strolled into his room, her usual bubble of radiance gleaming off her pale cheeks. Avrid looked in her direction and flopped onto the bed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Liogoo joined the Radox when he was in the same training course; they got to know one another. They'd gone into battle together and saved the other's life many times.

Liogoo comes from a formidable line of Royalty, although not the next in line. She'd been born to spend her days in a castle and someday married for an alliance of peace. But she had chosen a different life. She had joined the Radox and fled her destiny as a fancy princess to instead spend her days killing and hunting. Avrid found her a lot like him in that respect.

She comes from the realm of Vanaheim- the realm of the Vanir. It is a warm country, home to many different creatures, but the rulers of that realm are the Sirens. Sirens, otherwise known as 'fish people' or, mistakenly, 'mermaids', are half fish and half-human. They are fierce creatures known for their savagery and blood-hungry nature. They are vicious and sadistic and tend to stay within their realm. A siren could live above water, as they are somewhat human after all, but their aquatic nature does not let them remain on land forever. Liogoo is a siren.

At first glance, one would assume she was an ordinary human, but you could see the blue shimmer on her skin at a closer look, the way her canine teeth pointed unusually sharp how she seemed to leak the saltiness of the ocean and flow with the grace of its waves. And when she is in the sea, when her legs merge and she becomes more fish than human, more feral than sane, that is when the princess of the sea awakens. For now, though, she is just rather annoying.

"No. Out. If I must talk to the Firsts, then I refuse to have you buzzing in my ear and ruining a perfectly peaceful morning." He spoke sternly but knew all too well how little she would listen to him. Liogoo, unsurprisingly, walked towards the bed and flopped alongside him.

"And where is the fun in that?" she chirped. Avrid grunted in response.

"Come on, lazybones. It's past sunrise, so get washed- you stink like burnt flesh." She yanked him up by the arm, pulling him off the bed.

"What are you even here for? Asgard is not the most favourable of realms," he said with a scowl. It was a known fact how much Avrid despised the Aesir.

Liogoo suppressed herself from rolling her eyes. "Well, not all of us hate such a beautiful golden city." he raised an eyebrow.

"Plus, I have some paperwork to do, brokering peace treaties and all that. I may have Thor wrapped around my gleaming scales."

Avrid scoffed. "It's not that hard. Just compliment his muscles, and he'll give you the keys to his snobby kingdom." he shuffled through various scrolls at the desk beside his bed. "What peace treaty? I thought Aurora was in warm waters with Odin?"

"We are. It's the Dark Elves. They're stirring up trouble for his majesty, and so, he has called us for help." Liogoo picked up one of the scrolls to peek, but Avrid snatched it off her with a glare. She poked his shoulder. "And they are not snobby, at least not all of them."

"They call themselves Gods." This time she rolled her eyes.

He returned the gesture but looked around for a tunic. Liogoo tried not to stare at his bare chest but failed miserably. She noticed he hadn't bothered covering up when she came in and smiled. Progress, she thought. It had taken years to get to where he didn't care that she could see the scars that lined his body, the wounds that marked what made him. Gods, it had taken till now before he even let her touch him, and when he did, it was only if necessary.

They came as long healed incisions and uneven lines. Unparalleled streaks of an odd mixture of bright white and light pink brandish painted the length of Avrid's golden back and disappearing beneath the collar of his waistband. The skin around each scar was slightly discoloured, a dark red, like they hadn't healed properly. Like they hadn't had the chance to recover before somebody inflicted more. But she supposed the grimmest of them all was an irritated looking, dark red scar that strangled the length of his waist and spiralled up his chest. It formed a choking ribbon around his neck and then wrapped around his arm, elbow and to the back of his left hand.

She knew he thought of them as an imperfection. He felt that when someone would happen to gaze upon them, they felt pity for what he must have gone through, and she knew how much he hated pity. But for her, they were just a part of him, like an arm or leg. Like the small digit-like tattoos on the bottom of his stomach, just beneath his navel. She knew, somewhat, what he went through to get the scars, and so she knew they were nothing to be excused, but the angry red slashes no longer startled her.

She turned to walk through the door, still smiling, as a Terror burst through the door knocking past her in his haste to get to Avrid. The dragon had a slim roll of paper in its mouth and dropped it at Avrid's feet.

"Lord Urfan expresses his desperate wishes for you to meet him. The time and place are in the scroll." And with that, the tiny dragon fluttered away out the door as fast as it had come in.

Avrid shared a glance with Liogoo, who looked equally surprised before he bent and lifted the scroll.

"I guess the boss just couldn't wait?" she suggested. Avrid quickly glanced at the opened letter and rolled it up, stuffing it into the back of his trousers with a frown.

"He just wants to be dramatic about the whole thing."

Liogoo forgot her earlier joy and blanched. "You disappeared for a month, only for us to find out that you had been deliberately disobeying Urfan's strict orders that 'no one was to engage in any way with Herman'. The Æsir could have easily caught you out, and then we would be all doomed."

Avrid looked at her and shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He walked towards her, and his face softened the slightest bit. Liogoo's heart fluttered as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Just say it. You missed me, and you're mad that I left without you."

Liogoo slapped his arm, "Avrid," she grumbled, "you could have gotten yourself killed. King Herman was one of the most wanted in Asgard. Had you been in his midst while they were seconds from interfering, then you would have been undoubtedly caught, and the Asgardians would not have spared you had they known who you are."

"But they didn't catch me," he countered with a faint smile. "And you're right. I should wash." And with that, he strolled out of the room, leaving Liogoo to wonder when he would give her a heart attack with his carelessness.

...oOo...

Avrid stood under the rushing of the waterfall; his arms supported his weight as they rested against the wet rock. He welcomed the sting of the water as it scorched a path of scarlet ribbons down his back.

Only in Asgard could he find Firefalls. Waterfalls found under the volcanoes of the Light Forest, a sacred place in the Elven realm. It was unique to find water in the volcano and was only possible due to the intense heat of the molten lava and the numbing cold of the air.

As Asgard was in the middle of Winter, the atmosphere was of ice and snow, and the moisture would create pools of boiling water, resulting in a Firefall. The water, too hot to be used for any living thing, was left alone; its uniqueness discarded as useless.

Avrid found it was perfect.

A long time ago, he was robbed of the most precious thing to any being. That one piece of ourselves that conditions our life, desires, and hates: the ability to feel.

When the frost of ice and snow would pinch and scratch, he could not wince. When the sun charred at flesh and fire burned, he could not notice. When someone pressed a hand to an elbow or comforted him a hug, it was like how the sea feels a drop of water invading. It was more torture than anything he endured, never, ever, to feel the touch of a loved one.

Only when, like now, water so hot it would singe blisters into his skin could he feel. Some would call it a blessing, never to feel the cold or heat, but Avrid found it a curse. He longed for the comfort of a fire, the relief of a breeze, the touch of skin on skin. But what changed him was irreversible, so here he stood, allowing the steaming water to cascade down his body, holding on to the ache reminded him what it was to feel.

As he stood, he recounted the dream that had played the night past. He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, make sense of it. What he had felt and heard, the overwhelming feeling of loss.

It replayed over and over in his head as he tried to piece it apart. Avrid looked down at his arm. Although used to such intense heat, the skin was not untouchable and had begun to turn a fierce crimson; he had better exit the pool before his skin would start to blister.

As he stepped out from the water, his body became instantly dry. The heat of the volcano was enough to evaporate the moisture and humidity in minutes.

Avrid dressed and made his way back out of the cave where Toothless slept lazily. He dressed and made his way back out of the cave where Toothless slept lazily. The giant black dragon didn't particularly favour the cave's humidity and preferred to wait outside or hunt for breakfast.

On hearing Avrid's footsteps, Toothless woke, opened his eyes and yawned. As Avrid met Toothless, the former greeted his dragon with a scratch under his chin.

"Ready to go, bud?" Avrid asked as he hopped onto his back. Both rider and dragon preferred to ride without the saddle; it made for smoother landings, and it would be such a hassle to tackle Toothless and maintain the jumble of leather and ropes that the other riders seemed to need.

Other True Bloods had told him that the saddle was for balance and a way to signal to their dragon what they wanted to do, which way, and how fast. Avrid found the saddle uncomfortable for both him and Toothless. Soaring on the back of Toothless felt as natural as breathing, and he didn't feel the need for 'extra balance' or a way to communicate. He and Toothless were brothers; they knew what each other were thinking before they had to speak.

"Where does your alpha summon you to?" Toothless took off at a leap, bounding into the sky. He glazed among the clouds feeling content as the breeze blew past his wings.

"By Lake Cese." As quickly as the words left his mouth, Toothless sped off, a trail of cloud marking his passing.

...oOo...

Urfan watched as the early sun inked the lake the shade of pale oranges and yellows, fading blues and a dusting of light lilac. A thin jacket of mist spread along the quiet lake. A lake so still it became a mirror for the trees that lined its banks, trees that spanned off in the distance for as far as the eyes could see. He sat on the shore of the lake, where the silk of the water faded into grey sand pebbles.

His dragon, a dark-rich purple scaled Changewing that stood beside him watching the morning sun as he did, turned its large head to the side.

"Here he comes."

Urfan followed his gaze. Sure enough, in the distance, there could be made out a giant black dragon flying lazily through the clouds.

Minutes later, they dropped from the sky, landing softly on the sand.

"You're late," stated Urfan, still looking in the distance. His face held a cold glare as he turned to look at Avrid.

"Yes, I am sorry, but you must excuse me. I had some critical business to take care of this morning," Avrid replied, bitter sarcasm on his tongue as he walked towards Urfan.

"How may I be of assistance?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

Urfan turned away and started walking towards his dragon, Kilo, readying its saddle as he spoke.

"Your next mission will be a conflict of interest in Midgard. The Council of Firsts has agreed you are the best suited to take on this case."

Avrid threw his hands up in exasperation. "And how, may I ask, have you come to that conclusion? There are far higher trained Kohuru in Radox that could do this job. You know how much I despise that realm. Is there no one else that could go?" Avrid knew he sounded like a whining child, but if it got him out of the case, then he didn't care.

"You grew up in Midgard, and therefore you know the realm better than anyone else. King Odin has asked for a favour of the Radox. Someone has been stirring trouble in Midgard. A man who is said to be controlling a dragon army and the King doesn't like it." Urfan yanked one of the leather buckles tighter to the dragon's hide.

"He wants us to get rid of the threat- if it is a man or just a ruse, I do not know, but either way, it will be done. Radox needs to keep its image so the rest of the nine realms will not interfere with our work, and not only are you one of our best, but you know how to keep a low profile in a realm that only you are familiar with." Urfan turned to look at Avrid.

"Look, I know that your previous life in that realm was unpleasant." Toothless, who had been watching Urfan with a close eye, growled at the mention of Midgard.

"And I know that you harbour ill feelings to it," he continued, "but whatever happened, you must put it to the side and complete this mission. Despite what you might think, this is not a punishment. You are simply the best choice for this."

Avrid scoffed. "I have other business to attend, a court that needs run…" Urfan sighed, but his face melted into something like pity.

"Your ban has not been lifted. The Court of Crowns is simply too dangerous to be allowed to gather."

"That is my family you're keeping me away from. My family that you and the fat, round table of idiots deem are too dangerous." Avrid growled, and the stones in his palm crushed to rubble.

"Avrid, I understand your frustration, but until Aurora can find a way around Odin's decree- a decree that you practically forced into his hands- the Court of Crowns must remain scattered for the benefit of the nine realms."

"Benefit of the nine realms, what do think we're going to do, kill everyone around us? We are perfectly trained Kohuru, we know the discipline, and quite frankly, I'm desperate enough to beg Aurora. I need them. I need to just talk to someone, for fuck sake."

"And we gave you Liogoo." Avrid gave him a bitter laugh. "Avrid, the last time you gathered with them, you set fire to an entire armada because of a simple insult.

Avrid snarled viciously. "It was far less than they deserved."

"Just do the job, Avrid," he implored.

"The Gathering."

Urfan did a double-take, shaking his head in confusion.

"The Gathering is in a month or so. Let me prove my discipline to Aurora, and I swear, I swear it on my life that we will behave. Let me and my Court gather in Yggdrasil with the rest of Radox and give us that week together."

Urfan observed Avrid, looking in his eyes, and the silence was killing Avrid.

He had been planning to ask Urfan for months. He had nearly flown straight to Aurora and begged her on his knees for one second with his Court, his family, but that would have made the situation worse. Instead, he needed to ask more subtly, declare he learnt his lesson and repent.

Avrid would never beg for anything, not his dignity or honour or life, but his Court was worth more than that. They were worth his sword and his heart, so bending and begging was an accessible price for them back.

He understood their fear; the Court of Crowns were dangerous but only if they wanted to be, and that time, when he burned hundred of ships and cursed the lives of thousands of more soldiers. He was younger then. Stupid and naive, and he had not seen his Court since.

It had been ten years since Aurora placed the binding ban between them to not be near his family without causing them pain. It was a cruel punishment. Cruel and only slightly justified.

Urfan shifted his weight. "One-month Avrid. You have one month to do this mission and do it by the book. No unnecessary killing or war raging. Bring home no strays, and I will speak to Aurora; I will allow you and the Court of Crowns to participate in the Gathering."

A month could get this mission done, but he would have to do it quietly.

Urfan didn't wait for Avrid to agree berore he and his dragon ascended. Avrid stood facing the water as Toothless came over and nudged his elbow. Avrid put his hand out to touch Toothless' scales.

"I guess we have no choice now, bud, huh?"

...oOo...

Astrid opened her eyes to look at a dark wooden ceiling. She turned her head to the side. The room she was in was mainly bare. The only thing that filled it was a long table that lined the far side of the wall.

On top of it sat neatly-lined beakers filled with strange liquids and powders, flasks that held Gods knew what and some seemed to exude stem from the top.

On another side of the table were large and small needles and, what looked like, small knives that were undoubtedly not for battle. At the end of the table was a wooden box, although Astrid couldn't see what was in it. Fear curled in her stomach, and she became instantly aware that, one- this wasn't her room and two- she was wearing what seemed to be an extremely thin, white dress. She tried to lift herself, but a shooting pain shot through her head, making her flop back onto the bed.

Astrid tried to recall what happened when a young girl, about the same age as her, walked into the room. She dressed in all white. A tight shirt she would not have gotten away with back in Berk, and a pair of breeches that seemed far too big for her and bunched at her ankles. The girl walked towards the table and fiddled with one of the bottles. Astrid tried to call out, but her voice was tight and croaky.

"Hello?"

The girl turned to look at Astrid and walked straight back out the door. Astrid frowned, her eyebrows in confusion. Using all the strength she could muster, she pulled herself up on the bed she had laid in. She tried to lift her arm to get out of the bed, but something stopped her. A chain had been wrapped around her wrist and tied to the leg of the bed. She chained to the bed. She tried yanking her arm again, to no avail.

"Hello! Hello, anyone out there?" she screamed, but silence answered her. She was getting frustrated now, and the constant tugging she was doing to try and free herself was making her wrists burn.

"Whoever you are, you better let me go, or I swear on Odin's beard I will maim you."

Just then, a man shuffled through the door. The man was colossal, quickly ten times the size of Astrid herself. He had a mass of black hair that hung in ugly clumps around his face. His face seemed as if it was crooked, his mouth was an uneven line, and the skin of his face marked with thick white scars. As the man walked, he limped, falling side to side. He walked towards Astrid, and she fumbled back, as far as the chains that held her would allow; fear crawled up her body as she pushed herself against the wall.

The man stopped about a foot before he reached the bed and smiled an awful smile; Astrid cringed as the man looked her up and down and tried her best not to look like a frightened puppy.

When the man spoke, his voice was gravelly and rough. "My name is Drago Bludvist. And you..." He walked towards Astrid and leaned in, close enough for Astrid to want to curl into herself.

"You are... well. Special. Different." The man- Drago- moved back toward the table and started moving random things, his large hands messily tipping bottles and pots.

"Do you know what you are?"

"What? I am a Viking," she said; although her hands shook and her body trembled in the trim fabric, she spoke with all the Viking rawness she could muster.

The sound of a fire crackling was, Astrid realised, the sound of Drago laughing.

"Viking?" He turned back towards Astrid, a needle in his hand.

"I guess we'll see about that, won't we?" He smiled again, only this time it made Astrid's heart thump faster than it ever had. It made her hands sweat, and her eyes fill. It made her scared, more scared than she had ever been in her entire life.

And so, she screamed.

...oOo...