Chapter 4
ASGARD
Loki sat stretched out on the stone railing of a balcony overlooking Asgard with no expression on his face. From here he could see quite easily the signs of destruction still marring the structures, which only served to remind him of the one who mattered most who was no longer here. Which in turn only served to maintain his anger.
Thoughts of her were always followed by thoughts of him. The brother that wasn’t his brother. He’d been disappointed when Thor hadn’t come to attend Odin’s funeral rites. He hadn’t been foolish enough to actually sign the missive he’d sent with his own signature. It was presented as just an official notice from the palace of what had occurred and when the rites would be held. But in a way he was unsurprised of the thunderer’s absence. Thor always had enjoyed all the privileges of ruling and tried his best to avoid the tedious aspects.
Yet another reason why he hadn’t wanted Thor to take the throne and had set to disrupt his coronation. He could well imagine those duties falling on his shoulders. Thor would sit on the throne to look important. He would host banquets and lead the warriors in battle. But all the paperwork, the negotiations and legislation, those would become his responsibility as the second son. Asgard would prosper because of his work but Thor would receive all the credit.
But matters were different now. He was king and Thor had taken himself out of the equation. He supposed he could set aside his rage and rebuild Asgard until it’s glory outshone the Asgard of a thousand years ago…but he had no desire to live that long and even less desire to allow her death to go unpunished.
Which reminded him…
He glanced up at the overcast skies. He had no influence over lightning and thunder. That was Thor’s forte. Still, he did have some influence over the elements of nature and he used it to thicken the air with moisture. And with a mischievous spark in his eyes he focused on a target.
In the streets of Asgard Sif looked up and glared hatefully at the sky. Every time they stopped to gain updates with various people throughout the city the skies opened up to drench them in rainwater. There weren’t small, black rain clouds individually following them but she was quite convinced this was all Loki’s fault.
All four of them travelled together, rather than splitting up. They were on their way to the blacksmith most frequently contracted by the palace. Not the most legendary smith of Asgard as the battle gear produced by him weren’t magically imbibed, but the pieces were sound. They didn’t even make it near the doorway before the wooden barrier was jerked open and a large man with dark blond hair, covered in soot, stepped out and aggressively covered the distance. “I’ve told Tyr, now I’m telling you, I can’t pull a sword out of my arse. I need metal. So unless I have metal I’ve got nothing for him!”
The only reason weapons weren’t drawn was because the man wasn’t holding anything in his hands. It also wasn’t the first unhappy citizen of the day they’d encountered. Hogun nodded his head slightly to the man. “We weren’t sent by General Tyr.”
Sif pulled herself taller and asked roughly, “Who are you?”
He stopped short, narrowing his blue eyes at her. “Regin Rodmarson, blacksmith.”
“We are--…”
He cut her off with a sound that was a cross between a huff and a growl before speaking, “I know who you are.”
Unconsciously Sif felt her jaw tighten before she forced herself to say the words, “Our king has sent us to assess the state of Asgard.”
Regin glanced at her, then looked to Fandral and asked, “He wants the state of Asgard?” He didn’t veer his gaze, stating plainly, “We ain’t gonna need a return of the dark elves…a stiff wind will defeat us.” Hogun’s jaw set grimly as the truth of the words settled. “From bottom to top we’re all in dire straits. We’ve been cut off from trading so I can’t get metal. The same for the smiths that imbibed their armor. The attack put a good many people in the care of healers, the majority of them the field workers. I’ve heard since the farmers are shorthanded their crops are dying. We’re commoners. We can’t afford to be on our backs so our families are going hungry.”
Sif brow furrowed, offering an easy solution in her opinion. “Those families could enlist.”
He turned a mild glare at her. “Not everyone has a family.”
“They could marry.”
He stiffened. He’d heard such things before. All the warriors of Asgard thought alike so he wasn’t even surprised at her easy solution. “And not every family is blessed with sons. Nor does every son wish to fight.”
“They need to learn to do their duty as I did.”
“You’re the only girl to ever get that opportunity by our late Queen, may she smile down on us from Valhalla.” Then he held up his arm, showing the limb cut just past the elbow and fitted with a special attachment to aid him in his work. “I did enlist. So did others. Do you really think we’ll be taken back for another term missing an arm? A leg?” Sif glanced down, conceding his point without saying a word. Regin’s blue eyes glanced toward the palace before growling, “He didn’t care if we starved, as long as he didn’t have to hear about it.”
Fandral frowned, objecting, “That is why we’re here.”
Regin made a decisive gesture with his good arm. “No. You’re here because we finally have a king who gives a damn about us. Before, I wasn’t talking about King Loki…I was talking about his father.” All four of them blinked at him in stunned surprise. “Yeah, I said it and I’m not afraid to keep saying it. We had a king that cared more about gold and keeping up appearances than anything. You think any of us were surprised when he banished Prince Thor? When we heard he condemned King Loki to a lifetime in the dungeons?” Sif started sputtering since that wasn’t something that had been announced. “They made him look bad, or so he thinks.” Regin turned to regard Volstagg who he knew was a man with many children. “Would you ever do that to your sons?”
Volstagg glanced down and spoke softly even if his first reaction was a fierce denial, “I cannot speak for a noble.”
The blacksmith’s lips tilted upwards in knowing amusement. “Nay. You don’t wanna is what you mean. There was a time when you could speak the truth without being punished for it. But because it offends royal ears now we have to keep quiet. Report me to his highness if you want. You being here makes it obvious the kind of king he is. I’ll take his brand of justice over Odin’s any day.” He turned without a word and stormed back into his shop, the door slamming shut behind him.
The warriors 4 stood silently for several minutes, just absorbing what had been said. After a pregnant pause Volstagg cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Well…”
Fandral didn’t glance around as he spoke, “We’ve all thought it, we just never said it.”
“It is our duty to obey our king. Such disrespect breeds disloyalty.” Sif rattled off something she had heard for centuries by the other warriors. But there wasn’t any heat or conviction in her tone.
Volstagg took a step forward, his eyes wide in surprise. “Look, lads. Look.” One by one their gazes moved to what the rotund man was indicating and it was their turn to be equally surprised. The blacksmith was next to the town square where merchants set up shops. There was a platform at the center, which could be used for special announcements or to lock someone in the stocks. At minimum the shops were set up two rows deep if not more so. But not on this day. “It’s empty. Have you ever seen it empty?”
“Yes.” They all turned towards the one who had spoken. It was a young woman, dressed simply but finely as one of a hundred palace servants. She was a typical AEsir, pretty with blue eyes and blond hair. Perhaps it was because her beauty seemed so typical that made her almost ordinary and easily dismissed. A light tan cloak was thrown over her shoulders, the small basket she carried hidden within the folds.
Sif was frowning slightly. “You’re-…”
“Anya. I’m one of the palace servants, Lady Sif.” She nodded slightly towards the female warrior.
“You’re Loki’s servant.”
Anya raised an eyebrow slightly. “His highness is king now. We all are.” Sif instantly frowned at the reminder, but it wasn’t the scowl that it would have been a few years ago.
Fandral looked between the two women before throwing caution to the wind, asking, “You said the square has been empty before?”
She nodded to the blond swordsman slowly. “Aye. The square will close when we mourn.”
“You mourn Loki being named king?” Sif frowned ever so slightly as she asked, but she wasn’t quite certain if she felt defensive at such disrespect or relieved that she wasn’t the only one juggling conflicting feelings.
Anya instantly scoffed. “Of course not. But I know you do because he wasn’t your prince.”
“Thor was next in line.”
Sif blinked in surprise, both of them ignoring Hogun. “Both of them were our princes.”
Anya crossed her arms loosely over her chest. If she had an opinion as to whether the two princes were given respect equally she kept it to herself. “Prince Thor is yours, because he is a warrior. Because he fits the AEsir ideal so perfectly. A brave, mighty warrior both fearless and undefeated in battle.” She gestured loosely as if to encompass the remainder of Asgard that weren’t warriors. “We’re commoners. We all have our strengths as well as our weaknesses. We don’t fit that ideal…which is why Prince Loki was ours.” The warriors shared glanced while Sif just looked stunned. Anya shrugged and continued her explanation, “Physically he is different than the ideal, as most of us are. His choice of weapons are different. He is a seidmadr of the highest order, which will appeal to anyone with a drop of seidr in their blood. If it were possible for a highborn he would have been a scholar. That will appeal to those that would prefer a brilliant, wise king instead of a mighty one.” Now all of them were frozen in silence, listening and absorbing what none of them ever knew. “He was the prince that inspired us to aspire to be more than we are.”
Fandral frowned almost delicately, asking, “What does this have to do with the square being abandoned, fair maiden?”
She pulled in a slow breath, a brief flicker of pain racing across her face before she explained, “When word reached us of his death after the Bi-Frost was destroyed, we mourned him and the square was emptied. The same with the death of the late queen. Right now there is fear running through the streets so most remain home until Asgard is strong once more.”
A hard look crossed Sif’s face, obviously questioning the strength of Anya’s loyalty to Asgard. “What if the All-Father had not named Loki? Of the two brothers would you follow Loki over Thor?”
Anya was not, by any stretch of the imagination, anything other than a commoner. Her father was a soldier of Asgard without distinction and her mother was a seamstress. She’d had the most basic of educations before gaining employment within the palace as a servant. But she had been the personal servant to the God of Mischief for over a thousand years. A servant who had paid attention. It was that woman who replied, “I follow the will of my king.” The words were said with sincerity. And perhaps they were. Yet the words didn’t actually answer the question.
Or perhaps they did if one was attentive. After all, she didn’t specify that she would follow the will of Odin or the king of Asgard. She tipped her head respectfully and walked away.
HELHEIM
Odin walked silently through the palace of Helheim. There were those of the nine realms that called Asgard the realm stagnant. Now he was quite convinced they didn’t comprehend stagnation until they visited Helheim.
It was a land of eternal twilight, with no sunrise and no sunset. There was no weather. No modification in temperature, though the inhabitants would hardly notice if there was. Those that had been dead for too long were no longer aware. Those that hadn’t wandered.
He entered the throne room to see a dark haired woman conversing with Hela, her question to the Helheim queen blunt, “…why did you send for me?”
“Perhaps I simply want to converse.” Hela smiled almost sweetly when the dark haired woman scowled at that response. “I would like to introduce you to someone.” The woman turned as Hela indicated him. She held similar features to Hela, but she was shorter and a little more solidly built. He surmised she was either Vanir of Midgardian since an AEsir would have bowed to him. She looked him over quickly with pale green eyes, no recognition on her face, before she turned and raised an inquiring dark eyebrow at the Queen of the Underworld who filled in the blanks. “This is the former King of Asgard, Odin Borson.”
The woman crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “So I gathered by his armor and pomposity.” Hela’s lips twitched in amusement.
Odin grumbled in displeasure before asking, “Are you Vanir or mortal?”
She didn’t even turn her head to look at him, her tone flat. “I’m dead. But even in life I didn’t exchange pleasantries with AEsir. Do not expect me to start doing so now.”
Hela leaned back casually, her voice darkly amused. “I was visited by Odin’s second son recently. It was a brief conversation before he returned to Asgard to assume the throne.”
Clearly the other woman was unamused as she asked, “Is there a point to this discussion?”
Lady Death ignored the other’s attitude. “Loki is rather remarkable. A gifted seidmadr. A talented shapeshifter. Truly a credit to your race.”
Odin backed up a step in surprise. “You are a Frost Giant!”
She allowed her skin to flush blue, her eyes flashing red as she sneered at him. “Hence my reason for not conversing with the narrow minded.” She let her natural form fade. It was a personal choice to inhabit this form as opposed to her true skin, though she couldn’t quite put it into words why she preferred it. In life she had bowed to Laufey’s command of maintaining her Jotnar size and appearance but in death she was free to appear as she wished. After a moment she frowned. “Why would his second son--…” Her question faded from her lips and light green eyes went wide as the reason behind the topic became painfully obvious. But then those eyes narrowed as she turned back towards the stunned former king with a very familiar smile that was little more than bared teeth. “Allow me to introduce myself. I was known as Farbauti, consort to Laufey. I bore him three sons, one of which you had apparently stolen.”
Odin was shaking his head, beyond stunned. “You cannot be here.”
A sneer returned to Farbauti’s lips. “You no doubt believe us to be little more than savages, all of us dishonorable curs destined for Niflheim.”
“You believe Laufey to be worthy of Valhalla?” He growled the question at her.
Her retort was firm. “Not in the slightest.”
Hela tapped her lips thoughtfully before she asked Odin, “Would it please or horrify you to know that Bestla did not wash onto my shores?” Which basically meant that Borr’s former consort had been found worthy of Valhalla.
Odin’s eye went wide as he stared at Hela, his voice a pained whisper of disbelief, “Impossible.”
Hela gave him a condescending look. “What is impossible? That a Jötunn is found more worthy of Valhalla than yourself? Hardly. There are primitive mortals, as you call them, more worthy than yourself.”
Farbauti’s brow was furrowed, her eyes slightly distant as she tried to lock on to a name that was vaguely familiar. “Who is Bestla, Lady Hela, the name rings of familiarity?”
“Bestla was consort to Borr. As he was Odin’s father, she was his mother.”
Now it was Farbauti’s turn to stare with wide eyes before she started laughing. Great, heaping laughs loud enough to set an edge to Odin’s teeth…mostly because he knew she was laughing at him. Which was only confirmed when she turned to look at him with glee. “The great king of Asgard is of the Jotnar…and now a trueborn Jötunn sits on the throne. How delicious.” His glower turned up another notch but she remained unaffected. “And it explains so much.” She looked him up and down. She may never have conversed with him but Odin’s obvious contempt for her species was the stuff of legends. Until them he had never left a defeated species so devastated. Suddenly much was explained. “I suppose you stole my son to prove to yourself of your AEsir superiority in comparison.”
Odin tilted his chin up in pride. “There is not a battle that bested Thor. Nor a contest of strength he did not win.”
Farbauti was the opposite of impressed, giving Odin a bored look. “You attempt such contests upon our soil and see how your trueborn son fairs in comparison to mine.”
Hela glanced between the two of them, seeing the rising tension that was most probably going to lead to violence. “Children, desist.”
He broke his gaze with Farbauti to ask, “Was not the point of our introduction to cause strife?”
“Actually, no. That was simply an added bonus.” She smiled brightly at both of them even if she only received scowls. Considering the similarity in the expression between the pair of them she was tempted to point that out but refrained. She gestured outward in what felt like a subject change but it actually wasn’t. “If you will observe there are more AEsir that are no longer aware of their surroundings than any other race. And no, they would not be considered the oldest. There are plenty of races here that have been extinct for thousands of years that are still aware.”
There was a vicious glint to her eyes and Farbauti warily backed up, murmuring quietly to herself, “So the rumors are true.” Odin just silently frowned.
“I am queen and I have chosen that this shall be an eternity of peace. Those fools thought to instigate wars here against old enemies and grievances best fought amongst the living. A few even thought to attempt to usurp my position as the reigning power. They learned with finality that I will not allow it.” Farbauti swallowed and several of the specters nearby fled through the walls. Hela slowly narrowed her eyes, focusing her command to Odin, “Set aside your prejudice...” She turned her glare to Farbauti. “…your anger…” Now she leaned back to encompass both of them in her gaze and shrugged. “Or you will suffer the same.”
Odin was still unsure as to what had actually occurred. “What did you do?”
Hela glanced at her fingernails lazily, shrugging a single shoulder. “I won’t bore myself with the details…suffice to say that I destroyed their minds.”
“Why would you bother with such an empty threat?” Farbauti took two big steps away from him and dropped to a deep curtsy to show her queen she didn’t doubt her capabilities.
Hela didn’t move beyond her eyes flicking in his direction, her voice dangerously quiet as she asked, “Is it?”
Odin looked almost patient as he provided an explanation for his logic. “You have already stated your desire to have possession of my skills on the battlefield. It would be counterproductive to then destroy my mind.”
“Perhaps, but for one small point.” She disappeared from her throne, appearing behind him and leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “The logistics you needn’t know…but what I extract I consume. Their knowledge, their experiences are not lost.” He jerked around, unwilling to admit to the fear that he felt but tried desperately to hide. “I would still have the knowledge from you that I desire.” Her mouth formed a smile of biting pleasure at his reaction. “And an empty vessel that I may manipulate as an agreeable puppet.” She moved to lift Farbauti’s head gently by the chin until the Jötunn took the unspoken command and rose once more. Hela flowed past both of them for her throne, calling over her shoulder, “Exist for my amusement, children. I have little patience for annoyances.”
Author's Notes:
I personally like the thought of Odin as Hela's puppet (not quite a reversal of the war trophy that Loki to a certain extent was but close enough).
Next:
Everything is Loki's fault