A/N HELLLOOOOO READERS! I feel like it has been so long since I have updated, but even though my updates take a little longer now...know that I have not forgotten about you or the story. I thank you so much readers. Your excitement and enthusiasm and continued interest in this tale keeps me writing. I thank you for all your reads and reviews and follows and favorites. I cherish them all! This chapter was difficult to write because it is not action driven but I think it is necessary for character development as we head to the climax. Well happy reads and writes, God bless!
"Lady Jane," Sigyn soft, soprano voice gently called outside Jane's door. The auburn haired scientist sighed as she looked out the window over the decimated city. When she had first come to Asgard the Imperial City had seemed more glorious than anything she could have imagined. It was like something from a storybook. A mixture of Oz and Olympus, it had been radiant and dazzling, far more than what words could describe. Now her tower overlooked a torn and tattered buildings, streets that laid in ruin and crumbling temples. It was devastating to behold and it was her fault! She sank her teeth into her lip. It was all her fault. So many people had suffered. All of them completely innocent and they'd suffered and died because of her. She felt new tears sting her brown eyes.
"Lady Jane!" Sigyn high soprano voice interrupted the mortal woman's guilt-ridden thoughts. "Please, my lady, may I come in," the blonde-haired lady-in-waiting asked softy as he bronzed hand gently pushed open the birch wood door. Jane turned around and noted Sigyn timidly peering in her chamber. Jane scarcely recognized Sigyn, normally the maiden wore bright, cheerful garbs of pastel yellows and vibrant pinks. It was surprising to see her in a simple ashen gray toga. Sigyn was every bit a fashionista always in elaborate bright-colored gowns. Jane didn't know that there was anything drab in her wardrobe. The queen's lady-in-waiting bowed her head, her long golden locks were cover and only a few curly strands of blonde hair poked out from beneath silver scarf. "J-Jane, I brought you some lunch," Sigyn Arndottir explained as she stepped into the tower chamber carrying a tray of food. A smile gently tugs on her soft features.
"Thank you, Sigyn," Jane replied back, but her brown eyes did not stay on the Aesir handmaiden for long as she returned her gaze to the war tattered city below. "I'm not hungry," she dismissed waving her olive colored hand absently. She heard Sigyn set the tray down on the small coffee table in her sitting pallor.
'You should eat, my lady," Sigyn insisted mildly. "The ceremony shall be long and you shall need to walk in the processional from the palace grounds out the Bifrost and..."
"I shall not be attending..."
"What?' Sigyn shrieked. "No my lady, you must!" she reported as she jumped to her feet. "Prince Thor insist," she explained feeling frazzled. "Even Queen Frigga has sent me to bring you robes fitting for the funeral service," she expressed and pointed to a few of the black tunics and gowns the wife of Odin had provided. The astrophysicist turned her head to look at the garments that Sigyn had slung over her bed. Dark colored gowns with beaded bodices made of velvet and satin. "It is customary that all the women cover their hair as a sign of mourning, but you may wear a veil if you so chose," she expounded showing lady Jane so of the sheer veils that she and the queen had picked out.
"I can't go, Sigyn" Jane confessed her shoulders slumped and her breath coming out in shudders.
Lady Sigyn rushed to Jane's sighed she draped her sun-kissed arm around the Midgardian woman's shoulder as she felt Jane give way to some trembling as she tried to fight back tears. "It is alright my lady," Sigyn insisted sweetly her arm still protectively slung around Jane's shivering shoulder. "You hate funerals," she surmised. "I hate them too," she echoed and nodded. "The only funerals I have willingly attended were those of my grandmother and of course Prince Loki's" Sigyn went on and shuddered as she touched her hand to her heart. Her grandmother's funeral had been such a long time ago when she was still in her youth, her grandmother had been so precious to her, but the woman was ancient she had lived nearly 4000 yrs. It had been hard to be sad. Loki's funeral had been much more difficult to bear. It would be much like the ceremony tonight. It was a large event in which all of Asgard was there to show their sorrow for the lost of the king's second son. Her grief for Loki was so immense. Even though he had accused her of infidelity and she still loved him. He was the only man she had ever loved and she had not even told him that one last time. "I understand how you feel, really I do my lady," the amber eyed Aesir maiden insisted. "But you must come," she stated in earnest, "Twould be seen as an act of disrespect if you did not come," Sigyn gently reminded the mortal woman.
"I think it would be more disrespectful if I attended, Sigyn," Jane countered as she wiped under her dripping brown eyes and pulled herself from Sigyn as she rung her hands and paced around the room somewhat nervously. "I know the Asgardians don't want me there," Jane confessed. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Not that I can blame them," she turned to Sigyn her brown eyes misting.
"it is not your fault!" Sigyn chimed in reaching her hand out to clutch Jane's shoulder
"Yes it is," Jane protested her head turned in a sharp angle so that she could no longer face Lady Sigyn's whose eyes were big and wild and innocent like a child.
"Tis the Dark-Elves fault!" she nodded convincingly. "Tis the Aether's fault," she bobbed her head once more and looked up at Jane trying to convince her to look at it that way. Her own amber eyes were brimming with tears.
"And it was I who brought the Aether to Asgard!" Jane retorted back as she nearly shoved Sigyn off of her. Sigyn stumbled back a few steps, her hands up in the air as if she was surrendering. Her bright liquid gold eyes trembled violently and the salt tears started to flow. "The Dark-Elves would have never come to Asgard if I wouldn't have been here!" she protested angrily. She looked away from Sigyn for looking in her eyes only made Jane feel more guilty."It's my fault that so many have died!" Jane pointed to herself her voice raising in volume with every syllable. "It's my fault that Lady Dagmar is dead!" she went on. "I watched her die!" Jane erupted as she grabbed her face.
The scientist tried to control her tears. It was hard to stifle the sobs, but she managed to do so by dry-heaving into hiccuping gasps. "Oh Sigyn..I could not even grant her dying request," The female scientist explained her voice cracked with new emotion. Her guilt only doubled as she thought of Dagmar's silver-lining eyes slowly darkening and turning gray as she fought and hard to stay awake to hear the news about her child. She couldn't even tell her. Her dying wish was to know the truth about what had happened to her baby. The information was in the palm of her hands. The words written in black and white before her eyes and she couldn't read them. Jane squeezed her chocolate eyes shut. She was tired of crying her eyes were swollen and red from all the crying she'd done in the past days. She didn't want to cry anymore, but somehow liquid pushed from behind her tight shut eyes lids, despite her. "How could I attend her funeral? Walk by her father? KNowing that it is because of me she'd dead...No, that would be too disrespectful!" she shouted in protest.
The golden-locked maiden flopped back on to the couch that was behind her as she started to sob. She had always been such a sensitive woman. When people yelled at her she cried. She couldn't help it. It had been that way ever since she could remember. She'd always wanted to please the people she loved. When she caused them to be angry at her it was more than she could take. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sigyn started to mutter between gasping sobs.
As Jane watched her friend cry her heart crumpled all the more, she immediately rushed to the chair which Sigyn had collapsed and sat shaking in. She flung herself at Sigyn's feet. "Oh Sigyn, I'm so sorry," she apologize. She looked up at the beautiful amber eyed woman her own eyes were puffy with tears now. "i did not mean to shout at you," she explained.
"No, no, no" Sigyn protested shaking her head furiously and wagging her hands vigorously. "It's just, it's just that the fault is truly mine," Sigyn elaborated in a muffled whisper as she tried to stifle her sobs.
"Sigyn, no" Jane rejected her words immediately and raised her hand to try and catch her silver tears.
"No, Jane," the queen's lady-in-waiting protested back forcefully she grabbed Jane by her wrist and forced the mortal woman's hands down to rest on her lap, she stomped her foot as if trying to get Jane's attention. "It's my fault! I was going to go back to find you. You were my charge," Sigyn started to explain in between sniffles. "But Lady Dagmar insisted, she said that she could get to you faster and I...I...I just let her go... I let her go back alone...I...I shouldn't have done that, but... I...I got scared...if only I was a better fighter, if only I had studied more in my weaponry classes then I would have been able to help... then Perhaps Dagmar would not have...not have," Sigyn could not finish the words as she started to choke on her tears. "She was my friend...she was my rival... but...alas she was my friend," Sigyn confessed as water flooded down her cheeks. "I...I was jealous of her, but I really like her...I admired her...She was my friend," Sigyn blubbered once more throwing her hands up to cover her face. "I...I wish it would have been I that would have died," Sigyn blubbered into her hands.
"Sigyn?" Jane asked her face puzzled and her tone shocked and dismayed. "H-h-how can you say..." Jane started to stutter.
"Because...because he loved her...and I...I love him...he's in so much...I don't want to see him in pain," Sigyn explained sliding her hands over her moist eyes and running nose. "I never want to see him in pain," she mumbled quietly as she rolled her golden eyes up toward the heavens in silent prayer.
"Who? Lord Audric?" the astrophysicist wondered a loud. She had no idea that Sigyn even knew Lady Dagmar's father that well.
"Loki," Sigyn whispered back.
"Loki?" Jane's smooth lips curled in repulsion. Whenever someone said his name she felt her blood boil. That criminal! That monster! She hated him! She hated him and she didn't even know him. But she knew what he was. He was a heartless soulless beast! She detested the fact that two women seemingly loved him. Two women who she may have considered the sweetest and of the most lovely in all of Asgard. They were so different. Lady Dagmar had been an exotic, mysterious beauty, whose fierce intelligence, compassionate heart and bravery might have been the only things that had rivaled her striking silver eyes. This beautiful enchantress had died uttering her love for that monster, Loki. Sigyn was a blonde bombshell fit for old Tinseltown movies. She was bubbly and light, tender-hearted and naïve, but she was also dedicated and fiercely loyal and here, she wished to die all to appease Loki. It was hideous to hear. She knew that Loki was a powerful enchanter. She'd heard the reports on the news after Loki's invasion with the alien force how he had placed so many of the highly trained and talented Agents of Shield under his sway, maybe he had done the same thing to Sigyn and Dagmar. "Loki!" Jane uttered once more in disgust. "That horrible monster!"
"He's not a monster!" Sigyn shouted back in Loki's defense. Her face was bright red and her petite hands were balled into tightly clenched fist that shook as she pushed herself to her feet. "A monster would not cry over a woman the way he cried over Lady Dagmar!" Sigyn answered back her voice quivering as she wrung her hands and tried to make Jane see. Jane's earthy eyes were wet and bewildered. Sigyn felt awful. She was not a shouter. She hardly ever raised her voice to anyone. Especially now, now that she was one of the Queen Frigga's Ladies-in-waiting, she was a waiting gentlewoman and hardly even nobility since her father had all but disowned her. If Prince Thor found out that she had shown disrespect to the woman he was courting. Perhaps it was the stress? Everything was so stressful and frightful. Everything had been so confusing and dreadful like a terrible nightmare the past few days. She'd tried to be chipper and helpful and supportive to all the other members of the palace staff who had lost loved ones, but in that she hadn't given herself much time to grieve. Perhaps it now it was just all surfacing.
Sigyn felt her pulse flutter with nervousness. Now that the temporary anger had her voice was able to soften as she spoke. "You did not see him...you did not see the way he wept for her... he didn't want to leave her side," Sigyn implored Jane to understand. Jane shook her head as she rose to her feet and dusted off her long golden dress. She didn't want to believe Sigyn's words. "I practically had to pull him away from her body," the amber eyes handmaiden explained. She brought her hand up to cover her face and eyes as she started to cry anew. "All the beautiful things he said to her," she started her voice distant as if she wasn't really talking to Jane. "I heard him say so many times" she mumbled. "Sometimes even while in my bed," Sigyn confessed, she shyly looked up at the auburn-haired mortal woman, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she always spoke to soon and said things that embarrassed herself. Jane's face was one of shock and horror. "I always...I always hoped that one day... he would say such things to me," she shrugged as silent tears trickled down her rouge painted cheeks.
Lady Jane shook her head and turned away from lady Sigyn. She couldn't bear it. She couldn't take Sigyn crying and fawning over that maniac. She walked over to one of the drawers and pulled something out of it. She made her way back to stand next to Lady Sigyn," she muttered her voice down low as she extended her hand toward the blonde haired maiden. "Here," she mumbled as she presented a blood-stained scroll. "Dagmar had it," Jane confessed with a shrug her chocolate eyes were downcast. "She said it was about a child."
"Yes, yes, yes" Sigyn repeated her eyes still batting as she reached out a trembling, bronzed had to take the scroll from Lady Jane's thin hand. "Yes," she stated once more pulling herself from the trance of staring at the rolled up parchment. The edges of the scroll were frayed as if they had been scorched by fire. But what really caught her eye was the how the once fresh pressed and beige colored parchment was now dyed crimson. It was stained scarlet. Sigyn shook her head as she managed to run her finger around the dried blood. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she thought she still felt some moisture there. She immediately retracted her manicured fingers and her gold eyes quickly scanned her hands to make sure that her hands weren't soaked with blood. She exhaled with relief when she found that her palms were still clean. "She...I...I gave it to her...I...she...Lady Dagmar wrote a letter inquiring about what happened to her baby...she asked me to deliver it to the palace courier. I...I did. The palace courier brought me this letter in reply a little while ago...I...I don't know why..." Sigyn's voice was breathy and distant. "I don't know why I waited so long," the blonde-haired handmaiden to queen Frigga blurted out with frustration at herself as her hands clenched tightly around the scroll. "I...I...I" she stammered. "Did she read it?" Sigyn demanded, her eyes for a the first time in the few minutes since Lady Jane had handed her the scroll finally looked up at the auburn-locked scientist. "Did she read it?" Sigyn asked once more as she waved the scroll in from of Jane's face as she brutally unraveled the scroll and held the written on side of the parchment to
"No! No, she didn't," Jane blurted out. "She couldn't! She was in too much pain...she...she was dying and she asked me... she asked to read it to her and... and I couldn't! I couldn't!"
Sigyn's glossy pink lips moved for a moment with out making any sound. "Why?" she wondered aloud. "You are a scholar are you not?" Sigyn inquired.
"Yes, I am...but I can't read this...I can't read Asgardian...I can't read Rune!" Jane shouted as she covered her mouth and broke into a sob. "She was dying! She had one last request as she died. All she wanted was to know was the fate of her child. Maybe if she would have known... maybe she would have clung to life a little longer, maybe she'd have live," Jane started the ramble as she shook her head. "Maybe she wouldn't have lived, but maybe she could have died in peace," Jane throw up her hands. "Can't you see why I cannot go to that funeral?' she entreated Sigyn to understand. "I cannot go with all this on my conscience," She sighed. "But I can do this," Jane declared as she clenched her first and firmed up her stance. "She told me to give it to you...so you can give it to Loki," Jane added with a slight bit of disdain
Lady Sigyn gulped. She felt her palms start to moisten. Then she nodded. "I will tell Prince Thor of the fact that you do not wish to come," Sigyn informed Jane. Jane gave a slight smile as she brought a polished finger to flick away tears from her eyes. She then reached out a damp hand to clasp Sigyn hands in a thank you. Sigyn's pretty pink lips formed a timid little grin. "He will not be pleased," she warned lightly. Jane nodded knowingly. She didn't wish to offend Thor or to not seem supportive, but she couldn't attend. How could she look at the thousands of citizens weeping for their lost loved ones and stand their next to them and weep as if she had nothing to do with it. Bronzed fingers clenched tightly around the blood soaked scroll. She had just seen Loki last night, but he hadn't seen very seemed very pleased to see her. In fact he had seemed down right angry about her presence. Other than that she had not talked to him since the day she'd seen his skin turn from a grotesque blue to milky Aesir flesh. She'd missed him, thought about him every day, she knew she should have thought about her upcoming nuptials to Theoic, but she couldn't keep her thoughts from Loki. Still, if this was what Dagmar truly wanted. It was Loki's right. Dagmar was gone and Loki had a right to know what became of the child. Sigyn herself was curious, but she dare not open anymore of Lady Dagmar's correspondences, it had led to so much disaster before. "I will see to it that Loki receives this," she confirmed as she bowed to Lady Jane. "I...I...I should go and wait with the other Ladies-in-waiting to her majesty, to see if there is anything else that needs to be taken care of before the ceremony," she explained.
Sigyn closed the door quietly behind her as she left the tower. There were a few guards posted outside Lady Jane's door they nodded and smiled at Sigyn as she let out a squeak to pardon herself to slip pass the two large iron clad warriors. Once she was just outside their eyesight and about to go down the steps she slipped the parchment scroll from the inside of her shawl. She looked at it, and felt around the edges. The tanned parchment paper that had golden embroidered edges was stained with a burgundy liquid. Sigyn swallowed deeply, her throat felt so dry, she immediately removed her finger from caressing the scarlet stain. It was as if it was still damp, still hot freshly oozed Dagmar's body. Sigyn closed her eyes and looked at the parchment once again now it looked as though the blood stain was spreading. It was no longer a dried, burnt burgundy, but now a boiling hot scarlet red, it was sticky, warm and oozing all over the parchment, the blood spilled over the edges of the paper and sloshed out onto the handle bars of the scroll. From there it rolled onto Sigyn tanned hands. Sigyn's liquid gold eyes went wide as the crimson blood touched her finger tips. She immediately dropped the scroll and let out a yelp. All of a sudden the blood was not just on the tips of her manicured nails but was all over the palms of her hands. She screamed again and then anxiously shook her hands trying to fling the red off of them, but she couldn't the blood didn't come off. Frantically, she began wiping her hands on the sides of her clothes, she looked at her clothes they were smeared with blood where she rubbed, but placing the blood on the clothes didn't remove the blood from her hands. Dagmar's blood was inescapable. All of a sudden where the scroll had fallen a puddle of bright red liquid started to form around it. The puddle spread until the hem of Lady Sigyn's gown was dip in it and her shoes were blood soaked. "No! No! NO!" the blonde-haired handmaiden to the Queen shrieked in horror. "Stop!" she cried out picking up her skirt and trying to dash away from the floor flooded with blood.
Her own scream alerted her, it shocked her and forced her to open her eyes once more. She opened her eyes and she was panting and breathless. She looked around wildly, but noticed there she was, alone, still standing on the top step of the stairwell overlooking several spiraling steps down. She looked down at the cobblestone steps of the tower and noted that she had actually dropped the scroll on the one just below the step she was standing on. Her eyes took a peak at her skirt. The hems of them were still clean, her hands were red. She exhaled and wiped her brow with gratitude, it had been nothing but a terrible daydream.
Lady Sigyn immediately stooped down to pick up the scroll she dropped. Jane blamed herself, but Sigyn knew the fault lied with her. She was stupid, stupid, stupid. She thought as she berated herself mentally and slapped her palm against the side of her cranium. It hurt, but it didn't sting as much as knowing that Lady Dagmar was dead. Why hadn't she given Lady Dagmar the letter from the Vanir midwife sooner? Why had she kept it? It was just selfishness! Maybe if Dagmar would have read it she would have found out about her child. If the child was alive perhaps Lady Dagmar would have not gone back perhaps she would have wanted to escape in hopes to reconnect with her long-lost babe. If she would have known the truth about the child would it have given her the strength to live. Maybe it would have empowered her to keep fighting until the healing crystal reached her. Now it was impossible to know. And Lady Dagmar had died without knowing the truth of the child. It was shameful. It was a shameful way to die and she'd done it to her.
"Sigyn!"n excited, deep voice called to her somewhat breathlessly. "Are you alright?" asked a tall, muscular, tawny skinned Asgardian nobleman as he rushed up the old stone stairway to meet her. "What is it?' he asked his deepset brown eyes were wide as he came to the step she was standing on and stood beside her and gripped her by the arm pushing her behind him and taking a protective stance. "A rat?" he inquired his eyes looking down at the ground for the vermin.
'Theoic!" Sigyn exclaimed as she turned around breathlessly to face him. He was tall, handsome and dressed in fashions that were last season. She shook her head. He had on mix-matched tunics, tarnished old armor bands upon his wrists and an old Viking helmet that Sigyn was sure was handed down to Lord Theoic by his great-grandfather. It was metal and fur with real animal horns. Sigyn had to hold back a snicker. Her husband to be was not very fashion forward. Although he was wealthy, he was a bit of a bumpkin. He lived in the country and trends took so long to reach the country, that by the time fashionable articles of clothing and cloth arrived to be sold in their local tailors and dress shops those outfits were already becoming obsolete. Sigyn was not good at much. She hadn't been blessed with many talents, he knew she wasn't very bright, but one thing that she had always prided herself on was being one of the most fashion forward maidens at court. That had been one of the things that had attracted her to Prince Loki so early on. He was an impeccable dresser. His tunics were always crisp and fresh. He looked neat in his clothes making sure that they pressed and polished. He always wore his clothing perfectly tailored. Why shouldn't he have? He was a prince after all. He wore satins and silks and leathers so soft it felt like one was petting a calf, there was something very appealing about the clad younger prince of Asgard.
Sigyn shook her head taking her mind from her thoughts of Loki and paying attention to the man quickly bounding up the steps toward. He was good kindly man. He was a wealthy man, he was the only man who would still want her now that he name was as good as that of any barwench in Asgard. "No...No...No rat," Sigyn explained laughing. "I...I just had a scary thought," she stated dropping her head. Theoic raised an eyebrow to her confession. He saw the gentle blush in her cheek. "Well that is a relief," Theoic expressed as he swiped his hand over him tanned was tanned and sun-kissed from days spent in the dales riding horses and tilling wheat on his family 's e wasn't a warrior by trade, although like all Asgardians he trained in weapons as part of his basic education, but the rugged farm work had produced similar results. His physique was one that could compete with any of Asgard's most decorated soldiers. He was so different from Loki. Theoic was hearty built and strong, Loki was sleek and thin Loki was smooth and alabaster skinned from his days spent in the palace library and institutions of study throughout Asgard. eyes were warm and sincere and wholesome in their brown hue. Loki's eyes were entrancing, mystical and mysterious, they were changing and shifting sometimes glowing with hints of mischief. But Loki's eyes were also passionate and sentimental, determined and knowledgeable. There was something that lied beneath Theoic's eyes as well...cowardice. Theoic was a kind and gentle-natured man, but he was also a coward. Both he had Loki had lied on her. Loki had made up a rumor, but Theoic had agreed to it even when he knew it was not true. Theoic could have married her then and there, but he didn't because he feared incurring the wrath of the house of the Odin. Somehow Loki's action were easier to forgive. "If you were scared of a little rat I was going to say you shall have a very hard time adjusting to the field mice at the manor," he continued chuckling.
"yes, yes, quite," Sigyn nodded pleasantly until the meaning of the country nobleman's words dropped on her. "Wait mice?" she shrieked. "Eeeww," she squealed.
"I have been searching all over for you sweet Sigyn," He explained as he seemed to ignore the distress of his bride to be.
"I'm sorry," Sigyn immediately apologized her amber eyes darting down. "I have been so busy...There is so much to do," she began to explain. "So much has happened," she began her amber eyes dropping.
"Yes, I know," Theoic said with regret in his tone. He dropped his head as well in respect for the dead.
"The Queen has needed much from her ladies," Sigyn elaborated nodding along, but still unable to bring her eyes to meet his.
"You have worked too hard," he expressed with a concern that was as affectionate as it was stern. "You must rest,' He instructed her, finally bringing his rough hands away from massaging her slim shoulders and upper arms
"There is so much to do in preparation for the funeral ceremony this evening. Queen Frigga has arranged fr gifts to be given to the families of the fallen warriors and they need help in the kitchens with preparing the feasts" the blonde-haired Lady-in-waiting explained.
Theoic gave her a robust smile. He had large teeth, but they did nothing to take away from his handsome features. "You are so kindly," Theoic complimented. His brown eyes swelled with pride and pleasure. "No doubt you will be a loving wife and doting mother," he grinned further.
"I will try to be," Sigyn whispered blushing. Her nuptials with Theoic were scheduled for only a month hence. She knew Theoic expected her to be a blushing and giggling girl anxious for her wedding day and in her heart she wanted to be that way, but with the attack on Asgard everything had changed. The very peace and security of the realms was at stake. It made her want to burst and scream. A wedding was the furthest thing from her mind.
"You will be, my sweet Sigyn," the country nobleman assured her. He gave her a beam. "I have always seen such qualities in you," he reminded her. And he had. He remembered coming to court for the first times a few years back. Sir Theoic remembered that night. He remembered looking at Loki's annoyed and disinterested facial expressions and thinking that he was a fool. He had always heard of Prince Loki's sharp wit and clever mind, but to him the prince was a fool. Here, he had a beautiful woman like Lady Sigyn throwing herself at his feet and he didn't even have the sense to cherish it. It angered him. In part he knew his family had sent him to court to take on a bride. He had several brother's but all who were betrothed or married to other young women from wealthy farm families. His father had always wanted connections within the court. He knew his younger son was the most handsome of all his boys, not that any of his sons were unattractive men, but still, he felt that Theoic had the best chance of catching the eye of one of the women of high nobility. Theoic hadn't been very interested in spending much time at court at first, but after seeing Sigyn he was happy to make many trips back and forth from the Dales to the Imperial City. In that time he had been desperate to impress the golden locked beauty. He gave her flowers and tried to steal her away for dances and walks around the gardens when he could. He followed her throughout her social circles, becoming close acquaintances with those who she called close friends. He attended the banquets, parties and events she attended. All the while Sigyn had remained flirtatious and kind, coy and charming, but he knew she had eyes for only the master mage of the realm.
After Loki had accused Lady Sigyn of infidelity he had seen it as the perfect opportunity to take Sigyn as his bride, but he had been fearful. Lord Arn, Sigyn's father was beaten publicly and made to stay three weeks in the stocks for merely defending his daughter's good name. All of Asgard knew Loki was a notorious liar, he was given the nickname liesmith by the people for a reason, but to out right say that a Prince of Asgard was lying was an insult against the house of Odin. It was to accuse the great king of being a liar.
Theoic shook his head. He supposed it didn't matter now. "I have come to tell you that I plan for you to leave tonight after the ceremony to return with me to the countryside," Theoic informed her, bridging the gap between them by taking a step up and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer to himself.
The queen's handmaiden batted her beautiful gold eyes back at her fiancé in confusion. "T-t-tonight?" she stammered as if trying to catch his drift.
"Yes, tonight!" he replied excitedly. He pulled his strong arms from around her waist only to rub his palms together greedily to show his glee. "I cannot wait for you to see your new home, my bride," he assured her once again scooping her up in his arms.
"Theoic," Sigyn started her voice small and her voice dropping down so that it was barely audible. She looked down at the ground her head spinning rapidly and her breath quickening.
"Aren't you excited to see your new home, my darling?" Theoic asked as he tightened his embrace on he body. "To see the dinning room and the stables, the gardens and fields, to see the suite I have provided for you to rear our children in?" he inquired his voice hinted at his own enthusiasm, "To see our bedchamber," Theoic's deep voice was husky with the lusty implications. Lady Sigyn Arndottir swallowed hard as she felt her cheeks start to burn. Although she was no stranger to the bedroom, she'd never been with any man, but Prince Loki, despite what rumors circulated about her, she was not a harlot and the thought of sharing a bed with Theoic made her nervous. She did not know if she would be able to please him. She obviously had never pleased Loki. She had given herself to him more times than she could count all in hopes that somehow after he had her body, he'd give her his heart. He never had. She bit down on her lip. Theoic already had a wife, why wasn't his own wife enough for him? Was he the type to never be satisfied. Would he please her? His kisses were always forceful and sloppy, what if he made love in the same way? She cringed.
"Y-yes, of course Theoic, I am," Sigyn began her throat feeling dry. "it is only that...this all seems...well...a little rush," she admitted shamefacedly as she shrugged. "I...I...I did not plan to move into your estate until after our wedding," she explained, "I do not know if my father will approve of my coming to your estate until we are legally wed."
Theoic tossed his head back and gave a hearty laugh. "Your father sent your dowry to my estate a few weeks ago and I have paid in full your bride price, you are legally mine and the formality of the ceremony can be easily remedied once we arrive in the Dales, there is a retired judge who lives on a plantation merely half a days ride from my own. He is a close friend of mine and he would be happy to do the ceremony," Theoic explained as he brown eyes looked steadily into Sigyn's own trembling gold pupils, he brought his hand up to play with and pet her blonde curls. "Do not fret about such matters, sweet Sigyn," he cooed.
"But...but...but," the lady-in-waiting offered back a weak protest, "what about my parents and my sister and my friends... I wanted them to be a part..."
"Tis unnecessary," Theoic was still smiling and laughing dismissively to he arguments.
"And your wife? What will she think?" Sigyn blurted out.
Sir Theoic finally stopped his chuckling for a moment to look at Sigyn's face. Her pretty features were contorted with worry. Her big, beautiful amber eyes were filling with tears. "What's all this now, Sigyn, you knew you were going to have to meet Tyra at some point," he expressed his gaze becoming a little harsher as he raised bushy brown eyebrows to stare at her. "The two of you will be living together for quite sometime," he announced and tried to make it sound like a joke, but for Sigyn it sounded like a death sentence. "Tyra has most graciously agreed to go visit with a few of her relatives for a month or so while you and I acclimate," Theoic explained. "You will have nothing to worry about, Tyra is a business minded woman and she will help you learn how to run the plantation. You will have your own wing of the estate, where your rooms shall be. Your sitting room and pallor and guest rooms for any whom your wish to invite," Theoic rambled off all the while smiling. He talked on and on telling her that he would have servants assigned to her and she and Tyra would have different tasks about the manor that they would responsible for overseeing, but not until Tyra had taught her all. It was overwhelming. Her head was spinning.
"Theoic please!" Sigyn finally interrupted him talking shaking her head vigorously as she clutched at his shoulders. "I...I...I couldn't possibly," she began still shaking her head. "I couldn't possibly leave tonight, Theoic," Dagmar explained softly, she wasn't trying to argue with him or make him think that she wished to disobey his first request of her as his bride. "Theoic... the funeral ceremony... all the fallen,"
"That is why I said we shall leave late tonight after the funeral has taken place, my dear," Theoic explained gently tapping her on the hand.
The tanned skinned noblewoman slowly slipped her small, delicate hand from out of Theoic's large masculine mitt. "Theoic I cannot, I am the queen's lady-in-waiting. It is my duty to service her majesty. The Queen is preparing to move from the Imperial Palace to the Southern Palace in Ianthe under the cover of night this very night. I must help her," Sigyn protested.
"Exactly Sigyn, all are evacuating the Imperial City it is a war-zone and it is unsafe. As your husband I am taking you to where it is safe in the Dales," Theoic informed.
"But my duty to the Queen! She needs me, Theoic. The attack on Asgard weighs heavy on the Queen Frigga's heart. She is the all-mother. She grieves for the fallen soldiers and for the innocent like a mother grieves for her children. King Odin has fallen into the Oversleep. I could not abandon the queen at this dark hour,"
"Sigyn as a wife your first duty is to your husband," He explained gently once again he tapped her small tanned hands as if he were comforting a small child. He saw her sun-kissed brow was creased with obvious worry, confusion, she was so adorable when she was bewildered. He'd ease her distress further. Sigyn was a mild-mannered and obedient type of woman thinking that she was doing something wrong distressed her. "A married woman cannot serve as a lady-in-waiting to the queen. Queen Frigga knows this. She attended your betrothal party did she not. She supports your marriage and is willing to relieve you of your duties, you have no need to feel bad, dear Sigyn," he assured her. He brought his bronzed thumb to stroke her cheek. Her cheeks were rosy, painted with rouge. She was so beautiful, her lips still pursed as if she was mulling over the matter. He was tempted by those puckered, glossy pink lips. Finally, he could take it no longer he planted a wet one on her. It caught her by surprise. Theoic lips were thick and soft his mustache tickled. She batted her eyes and he continued sweetly pecking and her pursed mouth. He was attempting to kiss away her worries. "Do not fret over this matter any more," he assured her as he smiled brightly, the plantation owner once again wrapped his arms around his wife to be. "Let us go and get lunch and I can discuss with you more about the manor and about the preparations for our wedding ceremony, do you have any place you want to go for our honeymoon?" he asked as he took her by the hand and slowly started to guide her down the spiraling stairwell. " Tyra and I spent a few weeks by the coast it was quite lovely. Do you like the mountains, they will be beautiful with the snowfall," Theoic went on. 'Have you ever spent the night in the woods of Alfheim?"
Sigyn silent walked behind Sir Theoic her head reeling. "Theoic, please!" lady Sigyn protested once more as she halted in her tracks and tugged on his hand a little to get him to stop. "I can't," she insisted. "I cannot just run away and get married at a time like this. Asgard is in big trouble," she elaborated, "all the realms are in big trouble! I cannot run off and think about marriage and honeymoons at time like this! I...I...I it would not be proper, to make merry at a time like this... my heart is not merry, I'm horrified...I'm sad...I'm scared," Sigyn explained as she looked up at Theoic with watery eyes.
"What are you saying Sigyn?" Theoic inquired as his bushy brows wiggled into a questioning look, "That you are having cold feet about marriage?"
"What?" the queen's gentlewoman gasped. Her amber eyes going wide. "No!" she put her hands out in front of her shaking her hands vigorously to express herself. "No Theoic that is not what I am saying. I truly feel honored that you still wish to marry me again after so many years... I am grateful," Sigyn mumbled as she fiddled with her hair while glancing down.
"A part of showing gratitude obedience," her groom-to-be admonished as he nudged up her chin. The admonishment was mild. It reminded her of talk with her mother. Her mother had always groomed her and her sister to be wives of high ranking nobles as such she gave them lessons on how the wife should be. Demure, dutiful, respectful, pleasant in appearance and manner at all times.
"But Theoic... I am not trying to be difficult, but I think it is my duty to support my lady the queen in these difficult times. We all have a part to play. " she stated grabbing at his hands.
"And what part can you play Sigyn, You are not a warrior, you are but a simple maiden," Theoic nearly scoffed.
"Well...I...I...everyone can do something Theoic...I," Sigyn began looking down as she worried her lip, 'I can support the queen," the blonde woman mumbled back. She wasn't trying to be contrary. Her mother had warned her about scolding a husband. It was not something that a woman should do. She didn't want to scold Theoic or make him think ill of her, but what could she do to make him see that this was bigger than them. "Why don't you stay!" she thought perkily. :"Oh Theoic every man is needed to defend Asgard if the Dark-Elves return! You could join Prince Thor, fight by his side, defend the realm!" Sigyn went on as if she was about to burst into one of the ancient battle ballads to inspire him.
Theoic's brown eyes got large and wide as he listened to Sigyn go on and on about how he must stay and fight and risk his life for king and country. The whole thought was unnerving. Yes he'd trained in battle arts as a youth. He was quite handy with a blade. He'd settled a few petty disputes in an honorable duel, but he'd never tasted battle. His brother's had gone and fought a few times in a few small combat teams in the local militia in the Dales, but he never joined them. "Sigyn enough of this!" He yelled. His boisterous tone startled her. She'd never heard him yell before. Not in anger, only in jest after a few casks of ale. 'You want to see my blood spilled all over the streets of Asgard like these poor souls who we mourn today?" he asked her back abruptly. "Is that what you want huh? Huh?" he demanded of her his rough hands grabbed around her forearms tightly. He shook her a little.
"N-n-no!" Sigyn chattered as she felt herself being rattled by him. "Please,' she squeaked.
Sir Theoic caught himself. He immediately released her. "Oh Sigyn...I'm so sorry," he instantly apologized. He rubbed her down tenderly. He sweetly kissed her forehead and he then kissed her lips pleading for her to forgive him. "You aren't hurt are you, I would never...Never Sigyn, I would never do anything to hurt you," he promised her. Sigyn nodded silently. She knew that Theoic was not a violent man. She could see the pain on his face. Honestly, he hadn't hurt her, he'd just caught her by surprise. 'I didn't hurt you did I?" he asked with great concern. Lady Sigyn shook her head. "Good," the brown locked gentleman breathed a sigh of relief he wiped his brow. "I...I'm going to go finish preparing for the trip back to the manor. I will send up one of my butlers to help you ready your things, so that you will be ready as soon as the funeral ceremony is over," he expressed snapping his fingers and starting to descend the steps with Sigyn silently following dutifully behind. "My plan is for our protection," Theoic explained and with that he marched off. Sigyn sighed as she watched Theoic dusty brown cloak swish across the cold cobblestone floor. Theoic was a good-looking man, he was strong and tall and handsome in the face. He was kindly man, who was giving and patient. He was a wealthy man who owned a lot of land and had a great crop, but he was a coward. He had been too cowardly to defend her before Asgard and say in front of Loki and the all-father that they had never slept together and he was too cowardly to defend Asgard. That was who was about to become Sigyn Arndottir, second wife of Theoic of the Dales, a coward.
Dusk fell upon the Imperial City like a heavy, ebony cloak. It covered the city in its dark hues of , royal, purple and deep, navy blue and finally fading into the endless shade of midnight. It was suitable. Daylight no longer was becoming to the golden city, for the city was not so golden in the moment. The beautiful buildings were tarnished and battered from the attack. There was rubble scattered throughout the streets and some of the most impressive places lied in ruins. The hearts of the citizens were still heavy and filled with mourning for the grave losses they had suffered. The populace was also filled with fear and doubt. The attack had shattered the confidence of the people in their system. They wondered how such a thing could have happened. How could an enemy have slipped through their defenses so easily and undetected? Was this it...the beginning of the end? Was Ragnarök upon them? The unspoken fears of the people darkened the atmosphere of the city, making the bleak, starless night most appropriate. The nighttime was a solemn hour and the Aesir gathered for a most solemn occasion.
The people of Asgard poured from their homes as they began to line the streets in a teeming herd as they started their trek toward the Forever Sea which ran just under the Rainbow Bridge and Bifrost. In little more than an hour the streets were completely filled. The young and the old, the gentry and the peasants all gathered throughout the Imperial city, they gathered in the town square and along the river banks, many assembled on the beautiful rainbow bridge and even more citizens lined the outskirts of the palace grounds. Those who could not make their way to the palace of to the center square stood right outside the doors of their homes to pay homage to those who had fallen and stand united with the rest of the people. There were thousands, possibly millions of Asgardians gathered to give their final farewells to the brave souls who'd lost their life in the devastating attack. They were all dressed in their best, some wore coats of armor and others wore bejeweled garbs of mourning.
Lady Jane watched from her tower window as the citizens gathered throughout the courtyard and around the moat of the Imperial Palace. Although the numbers of people were great, far more vast than anything that Jane Foster had ever beheld and eery and reverent hush was upon the crowd. None talked, none murmured or rustled. They stood silent and resolute in their vigil, each family present had a member holding a fragile, glowing orb. The florescent pale blue light of the glowing orbs was the only light that was able to pierce the darkness of the bleak night.
Jane heard the trumpets sound. It started out as one strong blast from a ram's horn. It resounded and echoed over the broken city structures and rang out into the mountains. Jane wouldn't have been surprised if the mighty horn could have been heard throughout the entire realm of Asgard. They played the ram's horn 3 more time and then it fell silent. Other wind instruments started to play, lutes and pipes and small clarinets. The melancholy melody pulled her from her own feelings of self-pity and forced her to pay attention to what has happening below her tower window. She stumbled to the window her brown eyes full of water. She looked out on the city and saw the processional. It started with the Royal Guards marching in a slow time step with torches and flags raised. They were followed by the trumpeters and musicians who continued to play their sad song. It's sound was low and haunting, hollow and sorrowful. She wiped the water from her big brown eyes on the back on his hand as she looked on the mourning citizens. She placed her chilly palms on the frames of glass window as she stared down and sobbed along with the people of Asgard. She clutched hard on to the cobblestone windowsill trying to steady herself. All these people were in mourning because of her. The weight of her crimes was too heavy to bear alone.
Behind the wind playing instruments marched the drummers. Their drums beat in a steady rhythm, but the beat was not lively and up tempo as Jane had found most Asgardian music was this drumming was like a dying pulse, the beat was lethargic and the drums were beat upon softly, mixed with the sorrowful tone of the lutes it was the sound of a dying pulse. It was heartbreaking. Listening to the music was like listening to some one die. The lutes played the sound of their dying breaths and the drums echoed in time with hearts that were starting to stop.
The last of the processional were the mourners, members of court and lastly the royal family. Queen Frigga had allowed all the family members of the fallen soldiers to come and walk in the royal line to say goodbye to their loved ones. The nobles followed behind the commoners who had come to bid their loved ones farewell. Noblewomen and the queen's ladies-in-waiting carried white flowers in their hands as they made their way toward the water. Lord Audric and a few members of his entourage from Vanaheim trailed in just before Queen Frigga and Crown Prince Thor entered the arena.
Once all the congregation had assembled in the courtyard that lead out to the Forever Sea, Queen Frigga walked up the steps to the platform, with the aid of the captain of her guard and one of her waiting gentlewomen and went to stand by Thor's side. She raised her regal hands, the simple gesture silenced the minstrels. Their instruments fell still at the queen's bidding. The crowd of Asgardians that had been a chorus of sobs, wails and sniffles managed to allow a hush to fall over them. Queen Frigga raised her voice in a mournful funeral ballad.
The blonde queen's voice rang out as beautiful as a bell. It was crisp and clear and melodic, nearly entrancing. She sung in a high soprano that was nearly operatic, it was stirring. After the golden queen had sung but a few cords the crowd of Aesir joined her. All their voices raised in a tearful cry ringing out toward the midnight sky. They were ten thousand voice strong and it was a glorious symphony. The emotion conveyed through each Asgardian's voice penetrated through the night, the pain and heartbreak was evident, but their was also an air of strength, determination, pride and resilience that echoed through out the song. Jane somehow found herself singing along. She didn't know the words, but she didn't need to, she knew the spirit of the song the emotions transcended the language barrier.
After a little while the singing ended and Queen Frigga humbly stepped from the podium and allowed her eldest son to stand at the center to command the attention of the people. She rubbed her hands along his strong bicep trying to give him the encouragement that he needed for the task. Thor patted his mother's soft hand and kissed her warm knuckles before turning from her and facing the crowd. He looked out among the crowd. A sea lied before him. There were so many days when that sea was wondrous and full of life. Like during the festival days when the fireworks were shot out from the roof of the palace and the bright-colored florescent bombs blew up and sparkled over the waters. It was a magical sight. Or during the late summer months when the mystic narwhals darted through the cerulean waters racing for their migrations. But now the sea looked foreboding. The surface of the crystal waters was still, but it was too still...it was dead and motionless. More than 2000 dear souls would depart from their realm this night, they would make the ultimate journey from which their was no return.
"People of Asgard," the prince's commanding voice called to the grieving citizens. "The reason we are here is for the most painful of reasons," Thor started. His his masculine tenor tone was booming, but it also trembled with tenderness. "The attack on our realm has left our fair city broken," the eldest son of Odin proclaimed as his strong hands waved out and pointed to the once beautiful structures that had been decimated by the Dark-Elves powerful weapons. "They have awakened our greatest fears and taken away from us our safety, security and peace," the beautiful blonde prince acknowledge. "And they have taken from us that which is most precious. They have taken our people!" he declared. His voice firm and resolute. "Those creatures have taken from us our sons and daughters, our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers and our dear... dear...dear friends," The hulking blondes voice quivered and cracked as he raised bright blue eyes to look toward the heavens. Thor felt his eyes mist as he thought of the hallways covered with the bodies of young guards, Valkyrie and Einherjar warriors. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he reflected upon Dagmar lying in a puddle of her own blood, her alabaster body limp in his arms. "They have given their life in the most noble of sacrifices. They have given their lives in battle defending the ideals of Asgard and protecting the people of the Nine Realms. They are the victors and to them go the spoils. They go to the halls of Valhalla to revel in peace and prosperity ever more. Their bravery and sacrifice shall never be forgotten and their memories are never to fade from our hearts. Tonight we honor them and commemorate what they have done. Tonight we set their lights in the heavens. They are immortalized in the great forms of the constellations. May these lights ever shine down on us, allowing us to remember the incredible courage of our warriors. May their lights grow bright and may they be beacons of inspiration and subjects of song. Let this day of sorrow be remembered forever. But let not our grief be a stumbling block for us to cower behind. WE are not cowards. And we would fail those who have had their blood spilled in this battle if we did not take it upon ourselves to fight back and be strong. But let us take comfort in the fact that from the ashes of this tragedy let us remember that we our a mighty people. Let us believe that Good is greater that Evil and that light always conquers dark,"
As the riotous clapping of the people slowly quieted Lord Algrim took the stand. The pointy-eared Light-Elf raised his wrinkled hands and stilled the citizens completely. "Let the ceremony of lights begin," he announced to the hushed crowd. The minstrels once again started to play the song was a low and entrancing hymn called Into Eternity, the court composers had written it specifically for the mass funeral. The beautiful melody rose into the night air like a soothing lullaby as tiny funeral ships floated out onto the Forever Sea.
The first of the gondolas sailed slowly through the canal. The tiny long-boat was carved from beautiful white cypress wood, It was elegant and sleek in design and ornate and elaborate in its detail. It was made to resemble a swan. The mast was even carved into the image of the elegant bird. The sides of the barge were painted in blue and silver strips and some precious stones had been carefully placed throughout the barge allowing the vessel to shine and glisten in the light of the pale moon. A sheer silver curtain was placed as a canopy over the boat. The curtain was embroidered with sparkling silver thread and lined with intricate bead work that utilized glittering sapphires and priceless pearls. Behind the veil lovely white roses and blue orchids lined the edges of the boat like a soft carpet for the body being floated out to sea.
Behind the shimmering, pearl colored veil that hung from the balcony lied a body even more lovely than the pretty gondola that carried it. Alabaster skin that was painted as perfect as a porcelain doll could be seen behind the sheer, shimmering silver drapes that fell from the canopy of the gondola. Her face was serene and beautiful. Her luscious, ebony mane was long and flowing with white flowers braided in between the black tresses. From head to toe she shined with jewels. She had never looked more radiant.
Lord Audric followed behind the pearl long-boat in a daze. He slowly plodded along behind his only daughter's funeral barge. His hand half-way out stretched as if he wished to reach out and grab the tiny white gondola and stop it from sailing away. His gnarled fingers curled back in as he realized that even if he could catch the pearl ship, that floated all too quickly down the small channel and into the harbor of the Forever Sea, he wouldn't be able to bring Dagmar back. Lord Audric quick brought his wrinkled hand to swipe and catch the new tears falling from his eyes as he made a sharp turn from where the boat was freely about to sail out to see and went to approach the podium.
. 'Dagmar! Dagmar! Dagmar!" Ula cried as she walked a few paces behind the Prime Minister. She grabbed at her black cloak as she let out sorrowful wails and leaned on some of the other's in the party for support. "Oh the poor girl," she sobbed. "I knew her ever since she was a little girl," she explained as she blubbered. The rest on the servant women nodded as they listened to Lady Dagmar's maidservant, they rubbed her back but ushered her on with the processional. "I...I...I was the one to clean her up and place her in her mother's arms when she was just born," she expressed hysterically. "Why would they kill her?' she questioned. "Tis dreadful? Tis monstrous!" she screamed. "And she... she rushed me out," the elderly chambermaid explained. "She rushed me out, got me to safety. Me!" she pointed to herself as if she were still surprised by the notion. "I'm nothing but an old goat...She'd the Prime Minister's daughter... I...I shouldn't have let her," Ula gasped as she started to weep harder into her palms over her surrogate granddaughter.
Ula felt small cool feeling hands come and touch her on the shoulders. The hands were so chilly that she could feel the chill through her shawl. She turned in the direction to face who was touching her. There she found a small figure creamy skinned with little, almond eyes staring up almost angelically at her. The smooth cherub like face of the child unnerved the old woman and made her want to try her tears. The face belonged to a lad by the name of Dilys. Dilys was the newest member of Lord Audric's household staff. He was Lord Audric's squire. He was an orphan boy who Lady Dagmar met on the streets one day at a Bazaar. He had stolen from a fruit stand and the angry vendor's held the boy in place until a few patrol soldiers arrive. They were proceeding to beat the child for his transgression. Lady Dagmar interrupted claiming that the young thief was her own servant. After that she took him in and placed him as her father's squire.
"Dilys," Lady Dagmar's faithful handmaiden cooed gently as she wiped her eyes that were red from crying. She looked at the little boy. Dilys had grown much in his decade since he'd become the Prime Minister's squire. He was no longer a thin and bedraggled street urchin. He was full faced and he looked clean and mannerly. She looked into his young eyes. They were almond-shaped and the irises were such a dark hue of brown that they looked nearly black, they were always the innocent eyes of a lad even though in the moment they were misty with tears, but there was something else about them that seemed different. She blinked, but she could have sworn she saw a flash of emerald-green shine around the irises. She shook her head, it was probably just the reflection of the candles on the water.
"She cared about you, Ula, she loved you and cared about you so much," the boy reminded her. Ula nodded taking heart in the child's comforting words. She shut her eyes allowing the words to saturate deep and assuage her pain for but a moment. The gray-haired handmaiden opened her eyes ready to thank Dilys, but she looked up only to find the child darting a head and rushing to the Prime Minister's side.
Dilys scuttled to the head of the train of mourners so that he could stand by Lord Audric. The wiry, white-haired Prime Minister's steps seemed to grow slower as he approached the podium. He noticed the high-ranking Vanir official's steps falter as he made his way to the first step. With the agility of a young gazelle, Dilys slipped up to be by the Prime Minister's side there he wrapped his arms around the ruler's waist and held him up. Lord Audric's purple eyes looked down at the child. For a moment he was horrified, the way the arms felt snug around his waist reminded him of the hugs of Dagmar when she was but a girl. He gasped in horror as his blurry red eyes took a second look. He was relieved at second glance when he found the embrace was coming from a sandy hair, dark-eyed lad and night a raven-locked, silver-eyed little girl. The Prime Minister gulped and shook his head as he looked down at his faithful, young squire. He couldn't help but think of Dagmar; every night since she had been but a tiny girl she had come to bid him goodnight with a loving hug and sweet kiss. Lord Audric felt his eyes mist once more as he thought of how he would never again feel his daughter's loving embrace. It was such a small gesture, yet it meant so much. "Goodnight, Papa," she'd sweetly bid him. She'd find him where ever he was in the house whether in his bed chambers or in the study or in the pallor still entertaining some of the lords and nobles of the Vanir court. "Goodnight my angel," he'd reply as he'd smile back at her fondly, she'd always made him so proud. 'I'll see you on the morrow," He'd wave her off. He'd taken the gesture for granted. Now there were no more tomorrows for them to see each other.
"Sir, are you alright?" the squire asked.
"Yes, yes boy," Lord Audric stated clearing his throat. He tried to hold strength in his tone, but his voice was warbling with emotion. "I...I..." he started. "Help me to the podium, squire" the Vanir nobleman commanded. "Fetch my quiver," he added. Dilys nodded, he kept his young and steadying arms secure around the elderly leader's lanky frame as he escorted him up the steps to the daïs. Each small step was painstaking for the regal man dressed in black. His mind was flooded with thoughts of his daughter, now lost to him.
He had already lost his wife. Dagmar had been but a tiny girl when his beloved wife Ida had passed away. She was so much like Dagmar in appearance and in spirit. Losing Ida had nearly been his ruin. If it wasn't for Dagmar Lord Audric firmly believed that he would not have made it. He'd had to be strong for Dagmar. His little daughter needed him. Dagmar was still so young. She needed him and in watching Dagmar grow up he could still feel his wife's presence, in the way Dagmar laughed in the way that she wanted to be a healer... it was like a part of Ida never left , Dagmar was gone. What did he have to live for? As he rose on the podium he suddenly felt more and more alone.
The long gray and white beard of the Prime Minister shook as he wagged his head. He put so much pressure on Dagmar to perform the extraction. He thought it would be a glorious act to bring glory to their house. He'd practically forced her to put her own life in danger messing with such powerful and dangerous enchantments. If he wouldn't have wanted her to so badly perform the extraction she would have been safe in Vanaheim. She'd still be alive!
In that moment guilt washed over him like a flood and drenched him. He thought of how difficult the passed few months had been for Dagmar and the part he'd played in that. She'd suffered so these past few months. She'd had to deal with the supposed death of that wicked, scoundrel, Loki. She'd made herself sick mourning for him. He'd sought to help his daughter. He thought that by introducing her to another young man he could help take her mind from her grief. He'd introduced her to Olaf Dirkson, that horrible man who had dared raise a hand to harm her. He'd seemed like such a gentleman. He talked gallantly, he was trained as a warrior all though he'd never seen battle, he was rich and aspiring to become a diplomat. He seemed to take a liking to Dagmar immediately. When he'd asked for her hand in marriage, Lord Audric had been overjoyed at the proposal. Then Dagmar had been found pregnant only a few weeks after she and Lord Olaf had announced the engagement. Lord Audric had been horrified! He'd blamed Dagmar, yelling at her for her indiscretions and he'd been somewhat relieved when Dagmar's midwife had announced that the child she'd birthed was still-born. Although he had tried to comfort his daughter he had been relieved that she had lost the child. He offered her words that he thought would be a balm in retrospect he realized they were a blow.
He'd tried to comfort her by saying that this was a blessing in disguise. She was still young and beautiful, healthy no doubt still fertile she and Olaf would have many more children. He tried to explain to her that if the child was alive it would have only complicated marriage. The people would have talked, it would have been political scandal, which would have been no good for the young couple that would assume the duties of Prime Minister's in a few short years. Not to mention that it would complicate things for him. He was the Prime Minister besides the King of Vanaheim and his own family there was no one higher in the land than him how could he continue to command the respect of the people if his own daughter was found to have conceived a child outside of wedlock. He honestly hadn't even mourned for his stillborn grandchild.
Had he only known! Now he wished that Dagmar's child had survived. Even if the child was an illegitimate heir, even if the child was sickly all the days of its child would have been a tiny piece of his daughter still with him. How could he have thought of the little babe as anything else at the moment. The baby would have been a little Dagmar to watch grow up once more. Another little angel, to bless him with smiles and laughter and love. The child would have been a legacy, for their family. Now their legacy was gone. His line died with Dagmar. He was alone.
Tears flooded down the elderly Vanir man's his face. He loved his daughter so, but he'd hardly shown it. He'd hardly taken the time recently to remind her how beautiful and strong and intelligent she really was. How she was the light of his life. Now she was gone from him. He would never see her sweet silver eyes shining lovingly at him from across the dinner table. He'd never be greeted by her warm, loving smile when he returned home. He'd never hear her pleasant laugh or her shrill silvery voice call him name. She was gone. Water washed unabashedly down his face. He'd never see Dagmar wed, or know what it was like to hold a grandchild in his arms. Her child, her little baby that had died... that he'd been so eager to be rid of. Now he wished he could hold Dagmar's babe in his arms. To know what the child was like. Would it be a sweet chubby cheeked little cherub as Dagmar had been as an infant. He almost smile. Dagmar was a big baby with an appetite that rivaled some grown men. She'd always been hungry and they needed two wet nurses to meet her demands. Maybe the baby would have been a little boy who would have sparkling eyes like his mother. If it was a boy perhaps the boy would have looked like him. He'd always wanted a son. He loved Dagmar with all his heart from the moment Ula had place her in his arms, but of course every man dreamed of having a son. He hadn't even considered then that the child in her stomach could have been the little boy he'd yearned for. Whether the child was male or female he wished he could hold his daughter's babe in his arms and raise it. He wished he could be apart of Dagmar happily raising her children, giving her advice and helping her. He could tell his grandchildren stories on nights when Dagmar and her husband need time to themselves.
It didn't matter now the child was lost long ago and Dagmar...she was gone now as well. He would truly have no family. He had a two nephews, they had families of their own, but he hardly ever saw them except for a few rare occasions. He had an elderly aunt, but the woman was a shut in who hardly came out of her estate. She was never truly convinced that the raging wars of the Vanir had ended. He had a few cousins. They had all been close when he was a boy, but that was a millenium or two ago and he hardly ever heard from them except for if they were looking for favors. Dagmar had truly been all he'd had in the world.
"Sir," the young servant boy Dilys softly called bringing the Vanir nobleman from his thoughts. Lord Audric brought old purple eyes to look wildly at the young man. He could have sworn for a second he cold see an emerald-green reflection around the dark irises. He batted his eyes once more and it was gone and there he stared at a somber faced child. Dilys had been so fond of Dagmar, naturally see had saved him from a life on the streets where it was doubtless he would have survived much longer, but it was more than that Dagmar had taken time teaching his young squire how to read and write. Dilys had always been so eager for the time when they'd do lessons. She would tuck him in at night and read him a bedtime story if he requested, which he began to every night. Lord Audric smiled at the child, perhaps the motherless child had looked for a mother figure, but he had always thought the boy had developed a slight crush on his daughter. His squire's ears would always burn red in her presence. "Your quiver and bow, sir," Dilys offered. He presented the bow and arrow set raising his hands up above his head and bowing his head down low and giving it to the Prime Minister.
Lord Audric nodded. His leathery hands shook slightly as he went to take the instruments. His tongue felt as if it was swelling to take over the entire size of his mouth. He shut his eyes and reached for the bow. This was it. His final moments to ever see his only child again. His hands clasped firmly around the weapon. He thanked Dilys and watched as the little boy scurried back with the rest of the household staff as he raised the arrow only to dip it in a basin filled with fire that was set to the side. Prime Minister Audric sucked in a deep breath and started to lower the arrow. All of a sudden a pain shot through his heart. It was crippling, searing, burning pain. He'd only felt such pain one other time. The death of his wife. He gasped, his face turning white as he grabbed at his chest. His hands clutching at his heart through his velvet tunics. In an instant he was doubling over. "I can't do it!" he protested as he was doubled over in pain in front of all the assembly of Asgard. He couldn't bring himself to burn Dagmar's body. It was an Asgardian custom. They cremated. He'd been to many funerals for Asgardian dignitaries, he'd attended the funeral for Prince Loki and the custom had never bothered him, but now he found it barbaric. They were burning up the body of his daughter. He'd have no tombstone to even bring flowers to. He'd never be able to talk to his little girl again. At least with his wife, he was able to visit her grave and whisper words to her about their daughter. Tell her of how Dagmar had grown up so beautiful how she had taken after her and had decided to study healing. He wouldn't be able to talk to her ever again, to tell her of his day, the stresses of the kingdom... She'd be gone.
"Lord Audric," the squire rushed the to side of the fallen Prime Minister a few more of Lord Audric's guards and attendants followed behind the boy ready to assist. The youth was fast and spry and got there before the strong and strapping guards. The shivering elderly Vanir lord felt soft hands wrap around his shoulders trying to pull him upright. It was unseemly that man of his standing should be seen groveling on the ground, lost in grief and reduced so low. For a moment Dilys managed to slip his small shoulders beneath the narrow frame of the Prime Minister. "Are you alright?" the youth implored. His almond-shaped eyes tried to search his master, but Lord Audric averted his gaze. It was shameful to cry in public like this, the Aesir already thought of the Vanir as a softer people. Although the Vanir had warriors, their warriors did not match the prowess of the Asgardians in acts of combat. Most of the soldiers in Vanahiem had never tasted real battle. He felt as if his weeping was proving the stereotypes about his people true, but somehow he didn't care.
"I cannot do it!" Lord Audric declared his wrinkled fist slamming against the ground. "I cannot do it boy," he murmured. It was a custom in Vanahiem for the closest male of kin to render the last rights for a dead relative. There was no one else from Lady Dagmar's clan to do so.
It was young Dilys who rushed up to Prince Thor. "You Highness would you allow me the honor?" the child asked. His dark eyes shinning with unshed tears as he looked up at the Golden Prince of Asgard. Thor looked quizzically at the child. He arched his thick yellow eyebrow in the direction of the round-faced, slant-eyed boy. It was very unlike any servant of Lord Audric's to address Prince Thor without being spoken to directly, especially a child. He hadn't known Dilys very well, but often enough he'd seen the young servant boy happily following being the enchantress, asking her questions and sometimes straying to hold her hand. Dagmar had introduced them and Dilys had had been eager to watch the Crown Prince of Asgard spar with a few of the other warriors. He congratulated him on his victory when he watched the matches, but they'd hardly spoken since then.
"Dilys quiet!" Ula fussed as she tried to pull the child back to his feet. Another tried to accost the boy, grappling him around his arms and pulling him from the Prince's presence.
Defiantly, the servant boy struggled fighting against their grips and pulling his narrow arms from their tight holds. He pulled recklessly to the point where he almost hurt himself, but he managed to free his gangly limbs and end up falling before the ruler of Asgard's booted feet. "Please," the boy pleaded as his small hands reached up to skim across the fine, soft leather of the Crown Prince's boot. His black, almond eyes were trembling and the water in them was scarcely contained. "Please," the child begged in a voice that was low and intense. He begged with an earnest intensity far to serious for a boy. Thor looked into Dilys' eyes once more, he thought he saw and emerald light flash around the boys irises, he shook his head, perhaps it was just a reflection from the glowing torches.
The guards who attended the dignitary of Vanaheim helped the Prime Minister to his feet and turned him to face Prince Thor. Lord Audric was trembling and in full need of their support to stand and make his way back to mingle amongst the crowd. Thor cast a glance at the Prime Minister, the elderly man was weary and grief-stricken he raised a shaky hand toward the son of Odin to give his consent.
There were murmurs amongst the crowd that surrounded the daïs as the young squire mounted the podium with a flaming arrow in his hands. The large bow and arrow were nearly the size of the chubby, cheeked, dark-eyed youth who carried them. Dilys reared back, taking a proper stance as he set to aim his arrow. Thor looked curiously at the way the boy stood. His posture was straight, almost rigid and his arms didn't shake or tremble as held the heavy bow. The golden-haired king in proxy scrutinized the youth's movements, the way he allowed his right index finger to ghost ever so slightly over his upper lip twice just before he set his fingers in place holding fast to the arrow and string.
The arrow launched into the night sky. It bright orange flame lit up the midnight sky. It flew straight and true. It's trajectory was remarkably accurate. It set the pearl white gondola ablaze. The other members of Lord Audric's staff applauded young Dilys for his marksmanship. It was incredible. How would a lowly street urchin learn to shoot an arrow like that? Unlike in Asgard where all were expected to study some form of weaponry for their basic schooling in Vanaheim servants weren't privy to learn the arts of war, less they raise a hand against their masters. Dilys' hands were left gaping, his breathing labored as he stared out at the Forever Sea and the small barge caught on fire.
Soon the Forever Sea was teeming with thousands of and thousands of gondolas. Soon the sky was lit with 2000 flaming arrow. They rained down and landed on the long boats and the sea was glowing and bright with many flames.
The lead barge rapidly approached the waterfall where sky met sea and where the souls would float from one realm to the next. Thor took Gungnir in hand as he stared out at the Forever Sea that was now filled with the bodies of Asgardians. He closed his eyes. He had failed his people, failed to protect his people. They had died giving their lives for their realm, he'd not let their deaths be in vain. With determination and sorrow Thor's mallet wielding gripped tightly on the golden scepter. As a child he had often pretended that he would weld his father's weapon. He always imagined what it would feel like to have such power in his hands. He'd often imagined the foes he'd laid waste to with Gungnir by his side. Like his father and grandfather and all his forefather's there would be no villain that would not cower at the sight of the mighty weapon. That had seemed so glorious, but his first act with the scepter was not a wondrous deed of vanquishing a scoundrel, it was a mournful act of setting the soul of a friend free.
Thor's crystal blue eyes opened once more as Lady Dagmar's funeral gondola approached the edge of the waterfall. He stamped Gungnir against the marble step of the daïs. The sound of solid gold colliding with pure marble resounded. It's echo a final call for all the people of the Imperial City to hear. Dagmar's flaming long-boat slowly drifted over the waterfall. For a few moments the small vessel hovered in the air. Jane watched in amazement as tiny, glowing silver crystals drifted from the inside the flames and ascended mystically into the heavens. Dagmar's barge dropped into the sea of infinite space. The scientist's brown eyes observed as the small orbs of piercing blue-white light were released from the hands of what seemed like more than a million Asgardians. The wafted slowly above the city skyline. The sky that was once pitch black was now filled with radiant lights. Jane beheld the spectacle in awe. She'd seen so much beauty and mystery since her arrival to Asgard, but she hadn't seen anything as moving as this. It brought fresh tears to her eyes. "So this is how stars are truly made," the astrophysicist marveled aloud as the freshly made constellations which now told the stories of the heroic dead shined in her eyes. She looked in the of the heavens where a new celestial body burned with a brilliant white light. When she returned to earth, she would report the finding of a new star... Dagmar.
The Aesir mourners slowly trickled away. The crowd soon thinned to only a few stragglers who watched the last of the lights take their permanent places in the heavens. They blew kisses out to sea and threw a few remaining flower petals in the water. Some even floated candles out on the Forever Sea as a last respect the their brave loved ones. It took about an hour, but eventually everyone had left from the town square and from the grounds in front of the palace and from standing on the banks of the Forever Sea. Though hearts were still heavy, all managed to return to their homes.
One lonely figure lingered after all others had gone their way. The figure was petite, in comparison to the statues and structures that lingered around the podium. He stood vigilantly staring out at the sea of sparkling sapphire and lavender waters. The currents had died down and now the waters simply gently rolled by. He felt sea-sick. He wanted to vomit, but alas he had nothing in his stomach to retch. He hadn't eaten in days and yet he hadn't even felt any hunger pains, there were other pains far greater than that. His hand dug around in his pocket, feeling for an object of importance. He was about to toss it into the sea and let it be washed away as she was.
The sole person still left on the platform that over looked the harbor of the Forever Sea. The wind picked up and whipped across his face. Perhaps it was chilly, but the cool air was pleasant like a soft kiss on the cheek on the cheek. The smokey smell from the burning pyres no longer lingered in the air. Rather the breeze was mild and fragrant. It smelled like Jasmine and orchids, soft and exotic it smelt of morning dew. It smelt like magic. It smelt like Dagmar.
His pale, bony fingers finally managed to pull the trinket from his pocket. His fingers traced along the edges of the golden ring. He felt the finally crafted and uniquely cut quality sapphires. His eyes focused on the ring. It was beautiful, brilliant and breathtaking and here he was ready to fling it into the Forever Sea where it would be lost for good. He wanted her to have it. She deserved it. But somehow the thought of the jewels being lost from Asgard for all time made his heart clenched. The ring should belong to someone. It should belong to a woman who would rule in Asgard. He could picture another who would wear it. And that scared him because somehow it made the love he had for Dagmar seem less true. And that couldn't be true. He loved her. He loved her with every fiber of his being. Frustrated, angered and fearful he raised his hand and was about to toss the ring to the depth of the ocean to be swept up and out to the cosmos to meet the silver-eyed woman on the shores of Valhalla.
Child-sized hands quivered as fingers were set to plop the dazzling ring into the mysterious blue waters of the Forever Sea. He bit his lip, biting down hard and squeezing his eyes shut, a single tear pressing ou of a slanted eye. "Goodbye Dagmar," he whispered his fingers poised to release the ring.
A hand clamped down tight on his frail shoulder. Shoulders raised in an instant panic, thinking that it was a palace guard come to wrangle him and drag him back to hi cell. But instead of using unnecessary roughness, the large hand that touched him was surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry, Loki," Thor whispered to the figure of a little boy. Dark colored eyes went wide, but then faded into green, the chubby cherub like cheeks melted away revealing pronounced, chiseled features. Loki shifted back to his own form and Thor's hand rose as Loki grew to his normal height.
Loki let out a pent-up breath, his voice was rough as gravel and despite the fact that he tried to sound rigid and cold, he couldn't control the trill of emotion in his vocal cords. "Have you come to take me back to my cell?" he asked through gritted teeth, his tone rumbling like the distant billows of the ocean.
He straightened his posture and breathed in the sweet air of Asgard. It had been so long since he'd had a taste of fresh air. It might be the last time he ever experienced the cool sea breeze.
"No...no...I..." he stuttered. He knew not what to say. He was not silver-tongued and anytime Loki had a problem he'd realized now he'd never had the words to bring any comfort. Loki was always sensitive and often time he'd never understood his brother's fickle emotions. It wasn't that he didn't care, it was just that he didn't understand and he didn't know what to say."I...I..." he swallowed. "I know how you loved her, brother," Thor offered hesitantly. Loki inhaled sharply, but didn't respond to the words of the golden prince. Thor tried to think of something to say everything that he wanted to say sounded so trite and antiquated. He doubted Loki would take much solace in that. He didn't want to anger Loki. He didn't want to fight anymore. "I know...I know she loved you too, Loki," he confirmed squeezing his shoulder tightly trying to be a support for his younger brother. Thor felt Loki tremble under the weight of his hand. Loki's quivering was intense and Thor knew not whether he quaked with sorrow or with rage. Either way Thor couldn't help feeling that he wanted to pull Loki into an embrace, but he refrained. The words that were meant to be reassuring merely filled the fallen prince with pain. Was that what Dagmar felt for him in the end? He wasn't sure. Her last words to him were words of repulsion and disgust. "You're just like Laufey," she whispered he heard the trill in her voice as she uttered the words through tears.
"I know you seek revenge," Thor stated poignantly. His low baritone voice pulling Loki from his dark thoughts. "I...I want to grant that to you, I want to avenge Dagmar and our people as well...I...I just...brother I need your help to do so," Thor confessed he hung his head and his blonde locks fell in his face. He waited for a few moments waiting for Loki to respond. The raven-locked mage remained tight-lipped. Despairingly, Thor plucked his strong right hand from Loki's shoulder. He sighed shook his head and took a step back.
Loki heard Thor's boots thunk against the granite stones that made up the platform which they were standing upon. He heard his heavy feet start to plod down the steps. Just then he looked down at the ring Frigga had given him to give to Lady Dagmar so many centuries ago. The sapphire crystals sparkled in the starlight. The glow that caught the gems reminded him of the twinkle in Dagmar's eyes. He could see her silver eyes shining through the stars. He could see her pomegranate lips spread in a radiant smile as she laughed. He enclosed the ring back in a white knuckled fist. A steely look taking over his jade eyes. "When do we start?" Loki asked coolly while he turned his head and cast his emerald eyes on Thor's back.
Thor froze in his tracks. His large boot freezing mid-air and never making it to the bottom step of the podium. Thor spun around his breath caught in his chest as he faced the dark-haired enchanter who stood a few feet away from him. Thor's eyes lit up. Excitement rising in him. It was like when he was a lad and Loki would agree to accompany him on some quest. Loki would hem and haw and protest saying that he wouldn't come at first, but in the end...in the end Loki always came. He'd declare how e wouldn't allow him to face a challenge alone. It was in those moments Thor took confidence and pride. They'd gone through so many battles together and Thor knew with his brother at his side...with Loki's help and wisdom,with his clever mind and sharp skills and unmatched magic, there was no way that this battle could be lost. "Are you agreeing to help?" the carrier of Mjolnir asked, his hopefulness apparent in his wide puppy dog blue eyes and in the slight smile that started to spread across him lips.
Loki's face remained cold as ice and firm as steel, his jaw set tight and his piercing jade eyes burrowed through the now king of Asgard. The cold glare shot through Thor like a hot needle shooting through a balloon, deflating him instantly. "I am agreeing to avenge Dagmar," the green-eyed trickster qualified his words clipped, cut and precise. "This does not make us...brothers..." Loki warned his sharp tongue still deadly as a dagger as he raised a finger in the air, stalling the Crown Prince of Asgard from any form of protest. The way he said the word was as if he was as if her detested even uttering it in the blonde's presence. Thor's azure pupils flickered with hurt. His lips arched into a disappointed frown.
Thor nodded he fixed his face to one of steely calm like the skilled magic wielder before him. "Fair enough," Thor relinquished. "But that does not mean we have to be enemies Loki,"Thor tried to explained. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Thor reminded the bony, pale prisoner before him.
"Friend," Loki snorted. "What makes you think you can trust me?" Loki smirked behind Thor's back.
"Can I, Loki?" Thor asked whirling around, his sapphire eyes narrow and intense. "Can I trust you?" he inquired again.
Loki's lip curled in a snarl, " trust my rage," he responded a wild, feral flint flickered in his piercing emerald eyes. And Thor believed him.
"Then let me warn you," Thor began as he walked up close to Loki's face. His eyes were hard and firm. His radiant gold face only an inch away from the pale skinned mage's pointed nose. He did not crack a smile. "If you betray me this time Loki, I will kill you," he expressed his voice didn't waver, his features didn't flinch and he didn't flinch. It was not the idle threat of an older sibling to his younger sibling. It was the declaration of a king.
Loki snorted and simpered. "I have been warned," he mouthed slowly with a sneer. His thin lips pulled in an arrogant smirk.
"You have been promised!" Thor corrected harshly.
"You can't be serious!" Jane Foster squealed in horror she threw her hands up in the air and stormed away from Thor as his masculine hands reached to clasps her.
"Jane!" Thor protested.
"No!" The auburn-haired scientist persisted throwing her hands in the air frantically as Thor pushed his bulky body from the bed and lumbered behind her. His body was heavy from the exhausting sorrowful events of the day. "You can't possibly be willing to trust him!" she exclaimed as she whirled around.
"There is no other way," he tried to explain. He tried to be calm in contrast to Jane's escalating temper. It was hard to stay calm though as he watched her features flicker with fury. He had to admit he found it alluring. Jane was rather soft-spoken and fairly shy, but something about seeing her all fired was somewhat attractive. Maybe it was the way her cute little ears burned red. Or maybe it was the way her nose twitched or the way her brow furrowed either way she was irresistible when she was mad.
"There is always another way," Jane argued she spun around, no longer able to face Thor.
"Perhaps there is," Thor conceded allowing a deflated breath to bubble through his fleshy, pink lips. "But it is is not one I favor, " he admitted his voice dropping an octave and his eyes lowering. The stillness in his normally brash voice unnerved her. She loosened the tight cross she had on her arms. He sighed once more. "The council wishes to turn you over to the dark-elves," Thor confessed. The Midgardian sucked in a sharp breath. They mean to wait for the elves to come back to the Imperial City looking for you, surrender you to them and mount an attack against the Dark-Elves," Prince Thor expressed as his big, rough palms came and massaged slowly on Jane's smooth, olive colored arms. "I cannot let them do that," Thor stated tenderly his massively, muscular arms encircling her in an embrace that was tender and protective. "I cannot let harm come to you," his voice shook ever so slightly.
"Maybe you should," Lady Jane whispered back as she leaned back into Thor's arms. She did her best to be strong, she felt like such a weeping willow lately, she fought hard not to shed another tear. It was hard considering that they were talking about her possible demise. "it is because of me that this has come upon Asgard," she mumbled.
"Stop it!"
'It's true!" Jane erupted trying to push from Thor's tight hug. "If I wouldn't have found the Aether none of this would have happened."
The Crown Prince of Asgard stood to his feet as well. He followed Jane as she anxiously paced about the small round tower chamber. "Then the fault is mine," Thor let out a heaving sigh with the confession.
"What?" Jane spun around to face the leader of Asgard, "No," she began.
"If I would have come back for you," Thor started.
"Thor, no please...I can't take you bearing this guilt," Jane expressed.
"it is my fault Jane," Thor stated resolutely. There was a determined unyielding look in the golden prince's eyes. Jane knew it wasn't true. She knew that Thor was not at all to blame, but she knew that he wanted to take her guilt. He wanted to absolve her pain, but he couldn't. "But we'll find away to make this right," he assured her. "I promise," he swore as he brought his sea blue eyes to meet her earthy brown ones. The mortal woman rushed back into the golden prince's arms like a little girl. "I cannot allow anymore innocent Asgardian's to die because of this evil gem. I won't allow Malekith and his hoard to come back here to destroy us," the blonde shook his head. "So we have to go to them," he told her with an earnest determination in his bright blue eyes.
"But why do you have to take him?" Jane countered her lips snarling.
"The council has petitioned that the Bifrost be shut down there is not other way out of Asgard," Thor tried to explain.
"You are king now, can't you override them?" she reacted turning around and gripping Thor's bulging bicep, it felt hard and powerful beneath her fingertips.
The golden prince shook his head. "It will only create unrest. The people need to see a sense of stability from the monarchy now. Seeing me overturn a newly made decree from the council would cause the people to be fearful and suspicious also opening up the Bifrost while I and the Einherjar are away would leave Asgard vulnerable," Thor explained.
"But how can you trust him?" Jane asked her deep brown eyes swirling with confusion and fear. "He's...he's... he's..." she hiccupped. "He's a monster, a snake, a criminal...he's proved time and time again to be your enemy..." she reasoned out loud.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Thor reminded her with the age-old adage, raising his finger and giving her a slight smirk and wink.
"Friend! You can't possibly consider him a friend!"
"No, just my...my brother," Thor expressed he seemed almost embarrassed to say it, he shrugged and almost smiled.
"Brother! Can't you see... he's no brother of yours Thor at every turn he betrays you!" Jane had to keep herself from screaming.
"Loki has agreed to help," Thor stated.
"And you believe him?' Jane shuck her head like she was speaking to a child who believed when someone said if you eat a watermelon seed you'll grow a melon in a stomach.
"Loki loved Dagmar, Jane!" Thor shot back. "He always loved her... since we were lads and I know that although he may be willing to betray me, he would never betray her or her memory," Thor defended squaring large shoulders that were as wide and strong as a door frame.
Jane's eyes filled with water and they brimmed with emotion. She knew she should hold her tongue. It was not her place to say. She had always been known as a woman of discretion, but she long to blurt out the truth about Dagmar and Loki's relationship. She physically had to bite her tongue. "I don't trust him!" the Midgardian astrophysicist finally professed. She wiped under leaking earthen eyes as she stared into Thor's beautiful baby-blues.
Thor released a pent up sigh, allowing his long, flowing, golden locks to fall in his face, obscuring his vivid sapphire pupils. "I know," he said. "But do you trust me?" Thor's question was quiet and poignant.
Jane Foster shook her head. "Thor of course!"
"Then trust that I would not do this rashly," he implored her he reached out his hard, hammer-hurling hands and cupped Jane's slender, tiny typist fingers in his own.
"He was not willing to help before," she spoke up still clutching his hand.
"But he is now," the Crown Prince of Asgard explained slowly his sparkling eyes shined. His calloused hands skimmed her jawline and his cupped her cheeks. "Give him a chance Jane, give him a chance to be the person that he was. This could be Loki's last chance for redemption," Thor was nearly begging her.
Brown eyes batted and stared at the flawlessly handsome thunderer with disbelief. She shook her head, shutting her eyes before gently pushing Thor's mighty and warm hands from her face. She paced back to the bed and sat down. "I didn't know who he was before," she stated frankly. The blonde-haired, blue eyes leader of Asgard nodded. He turned away from her plodding slowly back toward the door. The auburn-haired astrophysicist gasped. Her hand automatically stretched out as if she wanted to clasp the hem of Thor's garment. She hadn't wanted to offend him. But she needed to speak her mind, it was her life and the fate of Asgard rested on this. She swallowed hard. Not to mention her very life. "Thor," she called softly behind the wielder of Mjolnir crept closer to the door.
Thor stooped down, squatting over to pick up something that he had come in with. She noted that he was carrying a small chest of some sort when he came in. She hadn't thought much of it. Thor picked it up and marched back over to her. The old, warn chest wasn't much to look at, but in a rustic way she supposed it was intriguing. "Then get to know him," Thor expressed a slightly wistful smile displayed on his kissable lips as he plopped the chest on her lap.
It made Jane jump. It was heavier than she had originally anticipated. "Thor?" the scientist questioned as she scrutinized the old chest. She would love the trace the origins of this antique with some carbon dating. "What is this?" her inquisitive eyes looked up to him.
"Open it?" he nodded encouragingly.
Jane's fingers for a while traced over the leather and metal on the straps of the chest. It was laid in tarnished gold. Her fingers brushed over a few letters written in rune script. "What does it say?" she inquired as she pointed to the writing.
"Snow days," Prince Thor whispered back as he ran his knuckles tenderly over her cheek and planted a gentle kiss there. With that he exited the tower holding chamber for Jane.
Loki rolled over in the opulent king-sized bed. The evergreen sheets made of satin caressed the naked flesh on his back and chest. The gentle material massaged the self inflicted sores and wounds that he'd carved into his skin only a few nights ago in his rage after learning of Dagmar's death. The bed still smelt of white musk and mint and sage. It was a crisp, clean smell just the way he liked it. It was relaxing and soothing and refreshing to breathe in. It was like a breath of fresh air to the lungs. . He rubbed his cheek against his fluffy pillow. It was covered with smooth, soft silk and underneath were rare golden swan feathers, the softest feathers in the nine realms. It was like laying ones head on a cloud. The blankets and quilts throws on his bed were made of rich emerald-colored velvet and thick sable. They were warm and comforting.
It had been such a long time since he'd indulged in the comfort of his own bed. The last time he'd slept in this room had been the night when he'd attacked mother. Loki cringed, his hand instantly clutched at the jade satin sheets as if he were trying to control his fist from flying off the handle once more. Shame once again engulfed the fallen prince of Asgard. How could he have done that to his mother? He could never forgive himself completely for the incident. He couldn't even remember what had truly transpired that night. What had she said that could have possibly made him so angry that he would lash out at her like a rabid dog without a chain. He remembered her gentle hands loving patting down his sweat-soaked brow. He remembered her begging him to listen to reason and remember how much she loved him. Then he remembered turning around, his hand sharp and angled and flying toward her face. He remembered the clash and clattered of the shattered glass of his potion cabinet as his mother hit the floor. Loki bit his lip now all his venom bubbled into self loathing. He could have killed his mother! He shut his eyes trying to block the image of his mother's prone body lying cold in her chamber. Her normal honey hued skin turned white. He pushed the image from his mind, at least he had been able to heal mother. At least he had gotten to her in time to find that flower. Yes! At least he'd been able to save mother unlike...unlike...Dagmar. Loki felt his hands squeeze tighter on the satin sheets his long, over-grown nails pressing into the fine fabric and poking through. His eye shut tighter, he squeezed them shut as tight as he could, not wanting even the smallest drop to escape from behind his milky eyelids. He knew if the floodgates opened once more and he cried for Dagmar as he should he would never stop crying. He pressed his teeth deeper into his thin lip until he tasted something, salty, sticky and metallic on the tip of his tongue. He continued to press his incisors further into the flesh of his pink lips hoping to stifle a sob once more.
Loki was tired. He was so very tired. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he laid his head to rest on the soft, plush pillows of his luxurious bed. He supposed it was the mixture of many things that had caused such a feeling of fatigue to wash over him. He'd had a large meal. Thor had brought him a platter of food from the banquet that the palace staff had served the families of the fallen. It had been so long since he'd dined upon the such a divine meal. His plate was filled with all sorts of rich delicacies; peppered herring and suckling smothered duck, fresh roasted potatoes and garnish of sprouts and onions and leeks and turnips and soft buttered barely loaves. Delicious! His eyes had bulged as soon as Thor had presented him with the meal and his stomach started to growl. He salivated at the mouth. It took all the strength withing the raven-haired enchanter's body to keep him from devouring the food like a ravenous wolf. With painstaking effort he managed to use decorum and cut his food into neat and elegant squares and chew slowly as if the meal meant nothing. He counted the seconds until Thor would leave his chamber so the he could lick the succulent sauce from his finger tips.
After dinner he'd taken a lavished bath. It was such a wonderful blissful feeling to be able to take a bath in the privacy of his own chamber. In his white-walled cell he'd been provided with the simple luxury of wash basin and a pitcher. When Lady Sigyn had attended him she used to bring down a fresh pitcher of warm water for him everyday, while he was very ill Sigyn had actually bathed him, she was so sweet and nurturing, but it had been many weeks since Sigyn had been to his cell and his bathing water was filthy and so was he. Sitting in his own tepid pool filled with rich ointments and oils.
Despite the steamy bath he'd taken and the large hot meal he'd consumed. He knew that the true reason for his overwhelming feeling of fatigue, was because he was emotionally spent. Seeing Dagmar's cold corpse sail out onto the Forever Sea was more than he could bear. Then actually launching the arrow and watching her funeral pyre catch fire. It had been devastating. Think about the golden flames lapping up her snowy flesh. Loki knew sleep would not come this night. His head was reeling and he was overwrought. He tossed and turned and twisted in the bed. His lithe body getting twisted in the green sheets and animal pelts on his bed.
He panted as he flipped onto his back, his thin, ivory skinned chest heaved up and down as horrid images played in his head every time he shut his eyes. He thought of Dagmar dying. He pictured that large, lumbering hideous horned beast slaughtering her in cold blood. Had she begged for mercy from that monstrous creature? Had the Kursed had a chance to show pity and refused to do so? He heard Dagmar let out a bloodcurdling scream as the Kursed rammed a sword through her side. He watched her broken body fall to the ground as he side spewed forth deadly red liquid like a volcano erupting with lava. His jade eyes darted back and forth in the darkness as if he was searching for the answer. Had that been the likes of it? Had she died quickly? Or had she suffered? Had she languished in pain, alone, frightened, panicked, pleading for help while he cries fell on deaf ear. Did she call his name! Loki gasped and shuddered his eyes welling with tears. Was she dying, begging for him to come and rescue her and all the while...all the while he had been in the crystal prison rubbing his palms together, cackling like a fiend, relishing in an attack that would show his brother weak and vulnerable and defeated before Asgard, unbeknownst to him he was delighting himself in the demise of the woman he loved. He did love her! He did! The last words she'd heard from his mouth had been that he didn't care. He'd lied...he did care. He cared so deeply and so much, but he hated himself for it. He wanted to not care. True apathy that was what he longed for because the true opposite of love wasn't hate as most people would have supposed, it was apathy. Hate was simply love perverted.
Dagmar's last words to him had been those that reminded him of his true parentage. "You're just like Laufey," She whispered the words sharply, the were said with a sharp tongue, they were daggers aimed at his heart. Were those he last thoughts of him? That he was nothing but a monster? He had proved to her he was. Did she look into the gleaming red eyes of the Kursed that savage beast and thought of them as the same. Now she'd never get to see... see how much he did love her. He couldn't save her and he couldn't tell her how much he longed for her, how he'd felt since he was a little boy that he had been made to love her. So he'd avenge her. He would avenge her. He'd kill that creature mercilessly and he'd do it in her name. He set up in the bed, his thin frame dwarfed by the size of the regal piece of furniture.
Loki's feet hit the plush lambskin wool carpet as stalked out of the bedroom and crossed to the study within his chamber. He lit the lantern on the wall squinting in the dim light as his nimble porcelain fingers moved quickly across the bookshelves as he searched for a particularly old manuscript. It didn't take long for him to find it. He'd always kept his library in particular order. He kept everything categorized and in the categories they were filed alphabetically. He carefully plucked the old dusty scroll from the place where it was wedged in the back shelf. He unraveled it. The parchment was tattered and torn. He walked over to his study desk and unrolled the scroll looking at it with a careful eye. It was a map of the Dark-World. Little information was still left on the home world of the Dark-Elves the land was thought to have been destroyed. He doubted that Thor had taken the time to consider gathering intelligence as he prepared to lead his small battalion into the unknown realm. Loki's slender, white fingers traced over the map as he memorized the nuances. The Dark-World was an unforgiving and barren landscape. It was made up almost completely of volcanic ash with little vegetation. It would offer the troops limited natural resources when they landed. The region was mountainous, filled with sharp cliffs and jagged hillside. The terrain would be a difficult crossing for the soldiers. The only advantage was that the cliffs and hills provided many caves for the troops to take shelter in if need be. There were a few scattered rivers that all seemed to have heads near the same point. It was the Dark-World and it had once been their capital city. Sohoban. Loki memorized the map. The hour grew closer and closer to becoming dawn. He thought to proceed to head back to bed and try to get a few hours shut-eye before the arduous journey that was prepared to go forth at first. He scoffed at the notion. He'd known Thor for more than 2000 years. The golden prince of Asgard despite his sunny disposition had never been one to rise with daybreak.
Loki made his way back to his bed, his green eyes tired and red, his milky eyelids heavy, he laid his had down on the soft down pillow once more, ready for a much-needed sleep to was over him. His eyes closed, the act was not voluntary, but in the back of his head a worried voice lingered. "Do you still intend to go through with it?' a voice in the back of his mind called just as his eyes shut. The voice unnerved the him and made the thin inky-black hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. His relaxed positioned instantly stiffened and he felt himself grow rigid. For a moment the voice settled not saying a word, Loki's breathing evened out once more. He started to drift into a slumber once again. "Are you going to go through with it?" the tone pressed urgently. Loki tried to concentrate on other sounds in the room. Like sound of a cool fall wind, blowing into his bedroom chamber and rustling his curtains or the sound of the logs crackling in the hearth, they were steady and soothing, but they did little to ease his restless mind. The voice was persistent; it demanded an answer. Thin lips blew out a weary and exasperated breath as Loki flopped on his stomach and shoved the pillow over top of his head, his hands reached out and he tucked the evergreen covers around him tight as he could. "You need to decide," something inside him questioned. "Who you are," it persisted. " And What are you going to do?" that gnawing tone echoed once more.
Loki flipped over on his back, green eyes wide and darting back and forth anxiously in the darkness as if he was searching for the voice to manifest in a physical form. But no apparition appeared. "What is it that you want from me!" Loki hollered in the darkness grabbing his ears."What else can I do!" Loki answered back his voice husky and haggard from his labored breathing. In his haste and desperation for vengeance for Dagmar he'd almost forgotten, the reason he'd told the Kursed where to go, it was because for the moment they were allies. The Other had a told him that Malekith would come searching for the Aether and his task was simple, all he need do was help the Dark-Elves, provide them Gungnir and Mjolnir so that they could be unstoppable once they had the Aether. Then they need just wait until Convergence; the Aether would be unleashed and darkness would once again reign supreme throughout the universe. Thanos would be pleased he'd be freed from his imprisonment finally and would grant Loki the throne of Asgard. "This is what it is!" He panted his anger flaring.
"So you are going to help them?" The crisps voice asked with disgust rippling in its tone.
"It's too late..." he mumbled anxiously rubbing his hands together, his palm were moist, "It's too late to stop it!"
"You don't have to help it!" the inner voice protested. "After what they've done," the was a scoffing in the crisp tone. "They've destroyed ransacked your home!"
Loki merely snorted to this. "Asgard is not my home," he reminded himself.
"Then what is it?"
"It has always been my prison,"
"They nearly killed your father," the nagging voice from deep within attempted to reason. Loki growled this voice was persistent and nearly as stubborn as he was
"He's not my father," Loki retorted calmly as he crossed his hands over his chest shutting his eyes.
His conscience grew stronger louder. "They killed Dagmar!"
Loki gritted his teeth and the reminder, his jade eyes seeing crimson as he flexed the muscles in his hands and dug his fingernails into his pale hands. He could feel his razor, sharp, talon-like nails plunging into his flesh cutting at him and tearing him; the pain was almost a relief. "I will avenge her," He swore through his clenched jaw and tight-lipped grimace.
"And then you will aid the very monsters that killed her. Oh your vengeance shall be sweet," the voice mocked.
"Stop it!" Loki whispered as he closed his eyes. He could shut his eyes but he couldn't shut out the voice. He couldn't shut out that part of him that he'd tried to do away with for so long. But he couldn't. It was infuriating. It reminded him of the time he'd gotten his brother trick candles for his birthday. Thor huffed and puffed until he was blue in the face, but no matter what the warm flame never went out. He'd cackled endlessly seeing Thor leaning over on his knees panting and bewildered as he stared at the ever-glowing light.
"You will avenge he while you aid in the very destruction of that which she tried to save?" the articulate voice questioned with condemnation in its tone.
"Enough!" Loki barked out in the darkness. "Please," his voice was shaking, pleading.
"What justice is that for the woman you love?"
"It is the best I can do!" Loki erupted. "What choice do I have?" Loki demanded back.
"You always have a choice," the voice that played in his mind stated firmly unyielding in its stance.
"You don't understand to break a deal with Thanos would be a fate worse than death!" Loki rationalized frantically. He sat up in the bed, wringing his hands. He could betray Thor. Thor would lock him in prison, torture him for a time, but his brother was soft-hearted. Even Odin could be merciful at some point when his torture became too great they'd show him an act of pity, they'd show him some mercy...they would kill him. But Thanos he'd torture him endlessly and he'd keep him alive even if barely. Loki's pulsed quickened, his breath hitched, he starte hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe. His head filled with horrible images, frightful memories from the Void. The Machine. That horrible contraption that toyed with his powers and made him work incantations against his own will. The tree...the tree and that snake... The venom dripping from razor-sharp fangs and running over his creamy flesh. That poisonous venom had been like lava, burning, scalding, boiling, lava running down his back and over his arms, it nearly incinerated his entire being. "We had to test you," The Other's gurgling voice talked above him.'To see if you were as strong as an enchanter as you had claimed," he explained as his hideous bloodied teeth came in and out of focus. "You are," he cooed his blood filled mouth curling into a sickening smile. He chuckled as his grubby, thick, blue sausage fingers scooped up the serpent that started in its daily ritual of slithering down the tree its fangs sharpened poised to bite the victim. "Will you help us?" he posed a question as the snake coiled around his arm and started to slither around Loki's cheeks. Loki cringed and quaked as the serpent hissed.
"Yes...anything...please," he sobbed.
"Maybe your brother will you?"
"I don't need his help!" Loki snapped. "This is my chance to be king, to rule!" Loki expressed eyes getting wild and giddy. Deep inside he did still want to rule. He still wanted the throne. He wanted one moment of triumph, the moment when he was the victor and Thor was the loser. He wanted to be respected and saluted in the eyes of the people of Asgard. He hated to admit it, but he still wanted Odin to see him as king to see that he could rule.
"King of what?" the voice in the back of his head pleaded. "If you do this then everything you know and love will be destroyed," the voice stated in a whisper. There was a long pause. The voice was silent for several moments. Loki took a few calming breaths before deciding to lay back on his pillow. "...what are you going to do?"
"Avenge her!" Loki responded his vivid emerald eyes flickered with an intense determination.
"How is he?" Prince Thor asked his normally booming tenor tone was a soft murmur as he whispered in his mother's ear and watched as the healers and servants tried to situate Odin comfortably in a carriage bed. The royal family had several large coaches that possessed the ability to be converted into sleepers. They were used for when the royal family had to take extremely long trips. The beds in the carriage were large and very comfortable. The palace medicine men and women laid Odin down on the carriage bed and whispered the words of enchantment allowing a shimmering gold bubble over the king's unconscious body. The golden shield was protective, life supportive device. It kept the king's body warm, oxygenated and was a source of energy for the king in his fragile state.
Queen Frigga loomed over the healers shoulders looking as they ministered to Odin's needs. Her hand was pressed to her lips as she watched them shift him. She knew that she needed to allow them to perform their task to keep her husband safe, but with every movement that they made her heart clenched a little. She could hear him sighing and gasping, moaning and groaning ever so slightly in his sleep. She nearly stopped the healers, but refrained herself. They needed to get things underway...there wasn't much time. The stables were a hubbub of anxious activity as courtiers and nobles darted back and forth readying their carriages for the journey to the Southern Palace. The royal family usually held court there for a few weeks in the summer months. Many generals were sending their families along with the queen and her retinue thinking they would be safer there.
"Mother," Thor cooed gently behind her. He towered over Queen Frigga.
"Hmm, huh?" the golden woman responded as Thor's voice came into focus.
"How is he?" the Crown Prince repeat his thick, sturdy, calloused palms rested on her shoulders. They reminded the royal lady of her husband's hands, but she remembered when they were once but little palms reaching up for her to lift him into the air.
Frigga reached her own silky smooth palm back and touched her son's hand rhythmically, the gesture was comforting, but Thor wondered if the sapphire-eyed queen was trying to soothe him or to soothe herself. "He is weak, Thor" she confessed her brilliant, crystal blue eyes never breaking their gaze on Odin. "He is weak...I know." Frigga began again her voice quivering ever so slightly. "The healers have had to increase the energy levels in the shield," Frigga pointed out and Thor noted that the shimmering force-field looked deeper in color in its golden hue. They say he is losing energy fast, his strength is failing," her voice grew softer and softer with each word. "Oh Thor," the queen of Asgard squealed turning to face her eldest son, her beautiful eyes were welling with tears and she flung herself into the golden prince's strong chest. Even without his breastplates and armors arm his chest was still rock solid and supportive. "I am scared to make the journey... it will be too difficult for him," she expressed her cheek pressed into the gentle fabric of his tunic.
"Shh," the acting king cooed gently in the queen mother's ear. "It will all be well, Mother," he assured her, his mighty, mallet-wielding mitt massaging tender circles on her shivering back. "I know you are frightened, Mother but it is imperative that you move Father and the court out of the Imperial City tonight!" the thunderer urged.
"I want to move the members of the court to safety, but the journey may be too much for your father in his condition," she explained. "What if he does not survive?' she asked worriedly.
At his the great queen's words Thor looked practically stricken. His bright blue eyes that were almost identical to Queen Frigga's their brilliance and clarity, but like Odin's in their shape peered in at his father's prone, sleeping forming lying underneath the bubble of gold inside the carriage. Seeing Odin like this was unbearable. In Thor's mind although he knew his father was growing older he was always the same strong, proud, man that he had been in his childhood. This was the same mighty man who became and Einherjar at the age of 800 (18) something that was unprecedented before then. He was the mightiest of warriors who carried the most powerful weapon, Gungnir. He was the same man who stood up for the defenseless Midgardians and battled the Frost Giants for nearly a century. He kept fighting even when he'd lost his eye. He was the king whose sword had defended the lives of the innocent throughout the Nine Realms for thousands of years. Seeing him, lying in a vulnerable state made Thor want to cry. His face looked so much more wrinkled, leathery and old under the glow of the shield. His features were slacked and relaxed and guiltless. He looked just like a child, a sleeping babe. He could see his father twitch and shiver under the glow of the golden shield.
Thor shook his head, "We can't think that way mother," Thor stated boldly. "We can't afford to," he confessed quietly, his voice now tender as he looked at his sweet-faced mother whose eyes housed tears. "That is why you and Father must go. I know that the journey is risky, but it is a risk we have to take," the blonde heir to the throne said in earnest. "The risk of travel is far less than the risk of Father staying here, if the Dark-Elves come back," Thor said in a hushed voice to not to alert the noblewomen and servants who were skirting around the stables carrying, baskets and trunks full of clothes to set in their carriages. "The Nine Realms cannot lose their leader," he explained.
Frigga nodded knowingly, she sniffled trying to hold back her tears. She covered her face quickly not wanting to alarm any of the courtiers or guards, "I know you are right," the golden locked queen confirmed for her son. She swiped her hands under her dripping blue eyes. She offered a faint watery smile. "I do not want to leave," the queen confessed.
"You must mother," Prince Thor insisted, "I could not bear if anything happened to you," Thor expressed as he cupped his mother's face and planted a gentle loving kiss on her forehead. "Hopefully in the end this is all just an unnecessary precaution, but we can't be to sure," Thor tried to explain.
"Nor could I bear if anything happened to you," Queen Frigga countered, she cupped Thor's handsome and hairy face between her slightly wrinkled tanned hands.
The hammer bearer wrapped his thick hands over Frigga's, "Do not worry, Mother," Thor began his hold on her hands was firm and strong and full of confidence. "I have no plans to die today," he said and he allowed a youthful smile full of cheeky playfulness. His bravado that bordered arrogance was somewhat comforting in a time like this when fear and anxiety were high. Thor gave his mother a wink along with his recklessly gorgeous smile and the royal woman couldn't help, but smile back at her firstborn son.
The wife of Odin gave Thor's cheek a teasing slap, "See to it that you don't," she jested back, but the jest was still to close for comfort. Thor watched as the happy glimmer faded from the queen's sapphire eyes. Her expression suddenly shifted from one of banter to one that was once again consumed with worry.
"All will be well, Mother," Thor offered her once more. "Loki had agreed to help," the hammer-wielder went on. Frigga's eyes lit up for a moment more. "He will get us to the Dark-World. I have a small task force that I intend to take with me. If we can destroy the Aether and defeat the elves and at least keep the fighting there..."
"I know you will," the Queen of Asgard stated to her son who was Asgard's acting king. "I believe in you!" Frigga confirmed. She took Thor's hands in her own. His hands dwarfed her and she should scarcely wrap her fingers around his strong mallet carrying knuckles. She tugged on his hand's causing him to look her in the eye. "Both of you," she mouthed.
"Hmm, that makes one of us," Thor mumbled as he blew breath out the side of his mouth, he averted his eyes and looked to the side, but he could feel Frigga's eyes still focusing on him. "I don't know if I can trust him, Mother," Thor confessed he dropped his head and his long blonde-locks fell in his face. After a moment he looked up at her his bright blue eyes wide and confused.
"Do you want to trust him," Frigga questioned as she nudged Thor's chin up.
"Yes," the golden prince confessed.
"Then do, trust that Loki will do the right thing. I know that when the chips are down Loki will not disappoint us," the queen affirmed,
"Mother," Thor muttered twisting his bearded chin out of being cradled in his mother's palm, "he is not the same," he stressed.
"Neither are you," the sapphire-eyed queen reminded him. She had a knowing glint in her gem colored pupils. "You are wiser and stronger and more mature than you have ever been. You are showing in every way that you have grown to be the great king that Asgard needs,"
"And what has Loki grown into?" Thor inquired of his mother.
"We shall see," Queen Frigga pointed out.
"My lady," one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting interrupted the conversation between mother and son. She dipped down into a curtsy, her knees touching the floor and her head bowed. "I...I...I am sorry to interrupt my queen... my prince," she spoke as her eyes darted up to look at the royals. "Everything is in readiness, my queen the guards and servants are prepared to move out when you are,"
The regal blonde woman nodded. "Very good, are all my ladies present," the queen asked.
"Well yes my lady... except... well everyone is here except for Lady Sigyn,"
"What?" the queen gasped. "well where is she?' she demanded. "Find her! We cannot need without sweet little Sigyn, the poor girl is probably a nervous wreck," the queen stated as she dismissed the waiting gentlewoman. The handmaiden went to look for the platinum blonde noble woman.
"Come," Frigga beckoned pulling Thor along slightly. "Speak to your father before we go," she instructed.
The prince followed behind the queen obediently, he went to the carriage where his father lied sleeping and still. He looked so fragile. Thor slipped into the carriage and sat by his father's side. He kept starting to talk but then his words fell flat and his tongue soon felt heavy and stiff. "Father," the golden son whispered. He finally stretched out his rough right hand and slipped it through the golden shield. He was taken about by how cool his father's flesh felt. His hands seemed so weak and limp. "Loki and I are going to go to the Dark-World and avenger our people," Thor spoke as he squeezed tighter on Odin's clammy hand. "I know...I know you don't approve of releasing him, no one does, but...I need him Father...I need him to get us there...this is the only chance for our people... for the realms... and perhaps it is the last chance for Loki as well. I don't want you to worry," Thor confessed. "Just rest, regain your strength and come back to us. I won't let Ragnarök destroy us...I promise," Thor pledged.
A/N Hello Readers I hope you were able to enjoy this chapter as we gear up for our action driven chapter 21 which should involve the escape from Asgard and the battle with the Dark Elves!