Chapter 7
MUSPELHEIM
Benfar had been many things throughout his life. He had started as a legitimate citizen, trained by some of the best schools in technology, from a planet well beyond the nine realms. He’d been enlisted and excelled as a pilot. But the war had ended badly and suddenly he was an outcast, unwelcome to return unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life behind bars. So he’d turned to smuggling and he was damn good at it. He’d done his fair share of grave robbing and this job had a similar feel.
King Loki had made the way easy enough. He’d followed the map, taking a path that placed him strategically out of Heimdall’s immediate sight to a cavern that ended at a wall. The carvings were intricate and extraordinary, the wall itself well over forty feet tall that disappeared into the rock on all sides. But he wasn’t an archeologist so he concentrated on the lock. This was all thousands of years old, yet the mechanics behind it could rival some of the new technology of today.
He worked steadily, carefully unlocking each layer. Patiently he waited for the click to tell him he could proceed to the next layer. Sweat was beading on his forehead, a full grimace on his face as he gently, carefully nudged the next piece of metal into position. It clicked, followed by a SLAM that had Benfar hastily jerking back several paces.
His eyes widened, hearing hundreds of gears and cogs move after so many centuries of stillness. Whether it was the dwarves or another race, he applauded the ingenuity. The wall jerked, a layer of dust drifting down from above as the lock shifted, then opened. A slot slid out of the opening, a strangely glowing stone at the heart of an intricate pad of circuitry. He had no idea what it did, he just knew what he was supposed to do.
Sweat clung to the top of his lip as he put on the carefully crafted gloves, a metal he’d never even heard of woven through it to keep himself intact. He slowly reached for the brightly glowing citrine colored gem.
“Benfar…” A voice surprised him enough that he jerked around, his hand still empty. His brown eyes searched, not seeing who had spoken. He could see the hint of movement in a shadow. He could tell by the voice that it was a woman. “I would consider your actions carefully.”
Benfar glanced back at the stone before directing his attention back to her as she slowly emerged from shadows that seemed to cling to her. “Who are you?”
She could be anyone, from any number of races. Vanir. AEsir. He couldn’t tell. Her ebony hair hung almost to her waist, her green eyes full of knowledge and secrets. Hela smirked and shrugged. “Does it matter?”
He stood up just a little straighter, his right hand on his weapon. “I act on behalf of the king of Asgard.”
Her smirk was knowing, not coming any closer as she purred her words. “Oh you do so much more than that.” Her green eyes flicked to the gem lying quietly in its holder. “Do you know what he plans to do?”
Benfar’s brown eyes glanced around nervously. “I don’t plan on staying to find out.”
Hela gave him a look, unimpressed. “Not Surtur, you pathetic monkey. Thanos. You wish to hold in your hands one of the infinity gems.” His expression of surprise was quickly hidden but she was delighted to have caught him by surprise. She was well aware of much and though Loki had hired Benfar for the purpose of letting Surtur free, in reality Benfar had been hired by Thanos to retrieve the infinity gem. “Do you understand his intent?”
He snapped on a helmet and quickly grabbed the gem. “He doesn’t pay me for my mind.” He pressed a button on the suit he wore under his jacket, energy crackling around him angrily. A boom made her wince as a tear forced apart the walls of space and time.
The wormhole opened just enough to swallow him whole, Hela’s voice echoing in an empty chamber. “Greed. How predictable.”
Yet another mortal to disappoint her. Most were predictable, as she had stated, and as such were subject to one of the 7 deadly sins. It was what made Loki so delightful and why he was her favorite. He was not disloyal by nature. Indeed it took a monumental betrayal before he would abandon that loyalty. He was also just as susceptible to those sins as any other mortal. Pride and envy were two of his greatest. Wrath currently consumed him and had since Odin had admitted to his betrayal during Thor’s exile. Yet even at the height of his wrath on Svartalfheim Loki was still capable of self-sacrifice.
Without the gem in place she noticed all the mechanics had gone still and a door about ten feet high had slid open. Hela followed a bellow that shook the entire planet, entering the hollow of the world that had contained the fire demon. A man stood in the hollow chamber that was as wide as it was deep. For Muspelheim was hollow at the center, and here had been where reality had been bent by the gem of reality to contain such a creature.
His appearance seemed AEsir in origin, but Hela knew better. Reality had been bent to contain the fire demon in a mortal shell. With the gem gone, he was free to stretch back into his true form. She watched as he flexed his fingers, sparks bursting from his fingertips. With another roar he clenched his fists and his entire body burst into flames. And as the flames leapt higher and higher he started to grow.
A dry, crackling laugh started deep but quickly soared as he spoke. “Now is the time that Son of Borr will find regret.”
Hela pushed herself away from the entrance, choosing to hover near to his level, rising as he grew to keep him within her line of sight. “Past time, in actuality. Odin is long dead.”
That seemed to pause him for a moment. A deep sound that she took for a satisfied hum. Then his head cocked slightly as he regarded her. “Asgard still exists.”
Hela shrugged casually. “Indeed.”
A growl wove through his voice, rage in every word. “I will snuff out the life of every last AEsir in creation.”
And because Hela was feeling charitable she decided to warn him. “Be careful. The new king is not one to be underestimated.”
He didn’t even look at her, dismissive. “I do not obey the whims of a Norn.”
The sister fates were the most well-known of the Norns, but there were others. There were the malevolent Norns that arrange tragedy, while others were protective of the living. Then there were those that like to play with the living and delight in their responses.
Hela had been the latter. She may no longer be what she had once been. The introduction of demi-gods and lesser beings led to the necessity of her current role, but that part of her past remained. Hela grinned dangerously, her eyes flashing green. “My…my…it has been eons since last I was called such. You truly are behind in the times.”
Another dry chuckle filled the chamber as he ignored her comment, satisfied as something else that she said became his focus. “If this king was newly crowned then he is young.”
Hela didn’t even try to hide her smirk. She already knew how to make this fool do whatever she wanted. He didn’t trust her, which meant her warnings would be ignored. But this was how she played the game, to offer the truth and allow these mortals to live and die by their choices. “Compared to you and I; he is such. He is also one that even I would not challenge.”
Now he looked at her, disbelief in his flamed gaze. “You…the Norn of Suffering. The Lady Death. The Goddess of the Underworld.”
Hela fluffed her hair and grinned coyly. “Flattery.”
“What threat would a mere child be to you?”
Her memory was extensive. More than just the beginning, she remembered to the true beginning. She had lied before when speaking of Ragnarok. It wasn’t a fiction. It had happened before. It would again. The true lie was the assumption that since Loki had caused it once it was his destiny to do so. Fate wasn’t that confining. It was all about choice.
But the true beginning of Ragnarok revolved around the man introduced to the nine realms as the blood brother of Odin. Matters were different this time. Loki was not Loptr. He was younger and taken in as a son of Odin, but the core that made the trickster such a force to be wary of in that first cycle remained even in this young demi-god. “The AEsir have gifted him with many names, but I know his true name. The God of Fire.” Her lip twitched just the slightest in anticipation of Surtur’s response. She wasn’t disappointed.
The flames leapt upward from his body as his rage and outrage soared. “You believe he can control me? I am Surtur. All fire demons live and die by my will alone. Fire is mine to command, not some infant! I can reach across realms and crush him with my army.”
Her lip twitched, her expression turning bored. “Pride. So expected a sin. Be warned, you would wage war against the nine realms and destroy them in your rage.”
“I am familiar with the strength of Yggdrasil. A species may be destroyed so long as the realm remains intact.” His flamed fists clenched as fire leapt forward, small fire demons produced in the wake. “I much prefer to rule over their burnt corpses than to hand victory to you.”
Hela rolled her eyes and turned to go. “As if Ragnarok were my victory. But my warning is thus: there are worse fates than imprisonment. If you are not cautious he will introduce such to you.”
And with a swirl of shadow she was gone as Surtur’s crackling laughter echoed through Muspelheim.
ASGARD
Loki knelt down silently, flicking a stray blade of grass from the marble before standing back up again. He had no opportunity to see her soul gain acceptance into Valhalla but he could do this much for his mother. The fountain was beautiful, multiple layers of cascading water amongst different colored blocks of stones. This was her favorite spot in the gardens and she always had loved running water.
His green eyes flicked to the left. He’d crafted a slightly raised pedestal next to her fountain with Gungnir leaning on top of it carefully. There were no labels for either piece and there didn’t need to be. Memorials such as this were built to bring peace to the living, not to remind the realm of the dead. That was what the Hall of the Dead was for.
The muscles along his jaw twitched a little before he took a step back. He honestly wasn’t certain why he’d created this rather modest memorial for Odin. He kept telling himself it was all for appearances but sometimes even he could spot his own lies. He was both satisfied and saddened by Odin’s death. Satisfied that he had won, for he had no doubt the AEsir king was in Helheim. As to the sadness…a regret that Odin couldn’t have been the father he wished him to be, and now with his death he never could.
His eyes returned to her fountain again. He would always remember her. Those gentle eyes; the humor in her face. She more than anyone else had been amused by his mischief and more than half of his antics in his youth were done strictly to gain a smile or a laugh from her.
Regrets were not in his nature, yet for her he was forced to regret much of the past. It was something that rarely plagued him. He was always moving. Always pushing forward. But he’d been standing still long enough that they had caught up with him. Regret that he was the type of man that he was. A male witch. A man who reveled in whit over brawn. Who bathed himself in lies until no one could decipher truth. A man not strong enough to be considered an AEsir warrior.
He would never apologize for it, but he also knew it would be the cause of his inevitable downfall. But other regrets were trying to creep forward that rage had pushed back until now. Regret that he’d let his ambition control and destroy what he’d once had. Regret that she’d died. Even more so that he considered himself at least partially to blame for her death. Regret that he’d let Odin slip away--
He pushed that last thought away violently and brushed away the moisture at the corner of his eye with agitation. The sun was irritating my eyes. That was all it was.
He required an immediate distraction. He refused to wallow because that was what he was doing. Perhaps it was time to turn his attention to mischief. It might be fun to torment the mortals, but it also might draw Thor’s attention and he didn’t want that. Asgard, then. As king few would suspect him of stooping to pulling pranks and even if they knew...what could they do about it? Loki knew there would be an advantage to being king.
In the distance, an increase of voices and shouts caught his attention. He turned and frowned slightly, seeing black smoke rising up towards the sky. It might be a simple house fire, but instinctively he knew it wasn’t. Centuries of practice kept the pleased smirk from spreading across his face.
Perfectly timed.
Sif ran down the cobblestone, sword in hand with several warriors behind her. From the smoke that had been visible from the palace she was expecting a fire. From the shouts she was expecting an invading army. As she turned the corner she realized both expectations were correct.
All up and down the street the buildings were catching on fire. AEsir were stumbling out of their homes, mothers hovering protectively over their children. Men were shouting and running from building to building. But it was a strange fire. Small creatures with four legs and a tail were leaping about and causing the fires. The men focused on trying to destroy them with boot and sword. Gritting her teeth, with a battle cry she stormed forward and cut a creature in half. A forked tongue hissed out at her, sounding like embers crackling from a hearth. Then the severed torso grew legs while the lower half grew another upper body. One creature had become two.
Her jaw dropped in shock.
Fandral had been standing on the street, sword loosely in hand as he’d watched her trying to kill what he’d had the same lack of success in accomplishing. He shared a look with her, looking weary. “How do we defeat a foe we cannot impale?”
The men were all looking to her and she felt the burden of that responsibility. Her AEsir instincts said to find something more deadly to kill them with but she knew it would be a stupid reply. Instead, she focused on the more prudent of the two problems. Her lips pursed as she glanced around. Spotting her prize, she sheathed her sword and tossed him a bucket while grasping one of her own. “You put it out.”
Loki held out his hand and clenched his fist, smirking grimly as the little fire demon shriveled and died by the will of his magic. He wasn’t surprised. Magic and life went hand in hand. If he could snuff out a camp fire with magic, killing a fire demon was no challenge. In this instance he created a negative space without air and contracted it. Fire demons couldn’t exist without the fire that forged them. He made his way swiftly down the hallway for the throne room, killing the little beasts as he went.
He entered to see the warriors that weren’t out in force flocked in the courtroom, waiting for him. Such sheep. It was so disappointing. He barked at them impatiently, “What are you doing in here? You should be out there protecting the citizens.”
The warriors stood taller, one of them bowing to him. “It’s not a fire, sire, it’s an invasion.”
As if he were saying something that Loki wouldn't have figured out. He couldn't decide at the moment if the intelligence quotients of AEsir had dropped since his fall from the Bi-frost or if they had always been this stupid and he just hadn't noticed. He fought to keep from sighing. He fought even harder to keep his irritation off his face. For now he needed them loyal but once war truly began all bets were off. "All the more reason for you to be out there in force." Loki could see the objections forming on his lips and couldn't hold onto his irritation as it bled into his tone. "The first priority is to defense of what you can see. We will worry about instigation secondarily once matters are under control."
One of the little bastards leapt from a torch and streaked across the marble towards anything flammable. With an impatient snarl Loki blasted it with a quick burst of green power. It exploded and didn’t regenerate. The warriors shifted, getting a taste of the rage that Loki was careful to hide…and fearing it.
He turned on them slowly, his expression growing cold. “Concentrate on the matter at hand. Get out there before there is nothing left of Asgard to defend.”
As the warriors scattered Loki turned as he felt something familiar. Something in the air that went beyond light and sound, a shift of power coming from the edge of Asgard. The Bi-frost. He couldn’t decide if the smile stretching across his face was pleased or malicious. Perhaps it was both. Since there was only one AEsir unaccounted for, it could only be one person returning to Asgard.
Thor wasn’t certain what to expect when he took his first steps onto the observatory. It had been quite some time and though he had rejected his right to rule he was still a citizen of Asgard. Sif and the warriors could be waiting for him. Or father could have the guards waiting for him. He wasn’t expecting to see Heimdall fighting back creatures that seemed to be made of fire.
He took just a moment to assess before hefting Mjolnir and hurling it towards the flamed beast. The creature splattered into a dozen pieces and Thor’s smile was grim, hand extended in time to catch his war hammer as it returned to him. The smile slipped in surprise as the little creatures started to emerge and grow from each of the splintered pieces.
Heimdall nodded to him in greeting, having as difficult a time in killing them. “Asgard is in need of her prince.”
Thor looked outward, blue eyes widening to see over half of the buildings up in flames. Inspiration lit Thor’s eyes and he started to spin Mjolnir rapidly. The added wind aided the flames near him to climb higher but the fire demons were also being pushed back. With a crackled cry one of them lost traction and went flailing off the Bi-frost, extinguishing when it hit the water.
Glancing at Heimdall as he continued to swing. “Where is my father?”
Heimdall stiffened almost imperceptively but answered with care, having no intention of being the one to inform Thor of his father’s passing and facing the thunderer’s wrath. He knew for a fact Loki had sent a missive from the palace to inform the son of his father’s passing but he now suspected the message hadn’t reached its destination. “The King of Asgard walks the center path.”
With a nod to himself Thor spun his war hammer faster. More and more of them soon followed until the observatory was free of demons but not fire. Heimdall turned his attention to putting the flames out while Thor threw his hammer forward and went hurling along with it.
Water and stone and land were flying underneath him, the people that he passed so focused on the fire they didn’t notice. Thor landed in a crouch along the main cobblestone path, taking in his surroundings with a warrior’s efficiency. Guards and warriors were going down each street, escorting children with their mothers out of danger while men were being given buckets and instructed to put out the flames.
Sif turned to her right, her face set in stone as she barked out orders. “Form a line to the water’s edge. Conserve your strength--…”
Thor called out to her as he approached. “Sif!”
Her eyes widened as she recognized Thor’s voice but she didn’t turn back yet, nodding to the warrior she was talking to. “Go.”
The warriors filed away from her quickly and now she turned. Thor couldn’t tell if her face was set so grimly because of the circumstances or if something else was bothering her. She blinked and seemed to remember herself, nodding in his direction. She wasn’t happy with him but he was a prince of the realm and she would formally show him respect. “Prince.”
Fandral jerked his head up in surprise, grinning a second later. “Thor!” The grin slipped a few seconds later as if he suddenly remembered himself.
Sif kept her tone even as she addressed Thor, “You’re here to assist?”
Thor strode to them quickly, not noticing her rather cool reception. Giving another assessing glance around as he asked, “Is this an invasion?”
“It seems to be more of an issue of pest control.”
Thor froze, internally and externally. He knew that voice. That agonizingly familiar rich drawl of sarcasm and whit. He was blind to his friends bowing, not to him, but to the newcomer of their discussion. Suddenly he could barely draw in the breath required to speak, a plea in his voice as he slowly turned. “Loki?”
Loki felt his lips quirk of their own accord. He wanted to remain angry but Thor’s expression was too amusing. His green eyes glanced around at the devastation and decided now wasn’t the time to indulge. “Sif? What is our progress?”
As Sif spoke, Thor found himself unable to hear her. During his first battle this had occurred. A moment when the initial volley had shocked him. Everything had gone quiet and moved so strangely. It was that dangerous moment when too many green soldiers were lost. The arms masters tried to prepare every warrior for battle. They drilled and drilled so muscles took over until the mind could catch up.
Then sound returned as his mind woke up. A storm of emotions rose up from the silence. As Thor’s eyes moved to stare at the figure that had walked closer, stunned into inaction, everyone looked up as the thunder clouds started to roll in.
Just from the dark, foreboding color it was going to be a bad storm but Loki looked up with a smile of triumph before he ordered Thor firmly. “Call in the storm.” It would be much easier for Thor to use his natural talent than for he to waste his magical strength for a deluge.
“Loki…you…” Thor struggled to think of something to say that didn’t involve his fist and Loki’s face.
Loki ignored him, well aware of where Thor’s emotions were trying to pull him. Snapping at him impatiently. “Thor. The storm. Call it in and kill them.”
Thor knew there was a time to set his emotions free but he recognized Loki’s tone. It was a tone from their shared battles. A tone used to focus him to things that were more important than his own indulgence. He set his face grimly and looked upward, raising Mjolnir towards the skies. Thunder rumbled and lightening crashed as the skies grew darker and the clouds thicker. Lightning struck the ground less than five feet away, Thor staring at Loki even as Sif and Fandral both leapt back.
That had been on purpose. A warning that a discussion between the two of them was going to occur. Loki just slowly raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Blue eyes narrowing, Thor focused as he turned. Thunder rumbled again and the skies opened, rain pouring down until they were all saturated within seconds. Fandral shook his wet hair out of his eyes, looking unhappy. He HATED getting wet. Sif turned with dark eyes, watching the result with satisfaction. The fires were quickly extinguished, the fire demons screaming and squealing as they too were extinguished and died.
Even as a cheer rose up through the streets, the last of the fire extinguished in the storm, Loki kept a careful eye on Thor. The throne was his, legitimately acknowledged now but that didn’t mean the thunderer would be reasonable about it. Thor couldn’t combat his magic but Loki couldn’t combat Thor’s strength. If the pair of them had to fight, as Loki was starting to suspect was going to occur, it might be the Bi-frost all over again.
Thor didn’t turn, his back to the trickster. Which Loki thought was a mistake considering how easy it would be to stab him with something large and pointy. But there was tension in every one of Thor’s muscles and Loki mentally winced. “Was it a trick to fool me, brother?”
Sif froze. There were questions she'd had concerning Loki’s return from the grave that had never been answered, mostly because she saw no point in asking. Truth and Loki were not friends. Nor was she his confidant. She was quite certain if she'd dared to ask he would either ignore her, lie to her, or banish her. Perhaps all three. Even as the rest of Asgard continued to celebrate she remained focused on the pair of them, listening closely.
Loki didn’t even have to ask what he meant by that. His death on Svartalfheim had all the theatrics of a grand trick. He was a little surprised that Thor would again call him brother so easily but he wasn’t going to question it. Still he was Loki and getting right to the point wasn’t his style. “You will have to be a bit more--…”
“Svartalfheim.” Thor spoke the word harshly as he interrupted, but then his voice changed and softened with heartache. “I thought you dead…”
That was a bit more distress than Loki had anticipated. He would have thought Thor would be pleased to be rid of him. It was strangely gratifying to hear distress and grief in Thor’s tone. What surprised Loki was the pang of guilt that hit his heart that he was the cause of that distress. Again.
Opening his mouth, Loki was about to respond with something flippant but felt his eyes widen slightly as the truth quietly slipped out. “I was.” He gasped almost silently, involuntarily, an instant later. He hadn’t meant to say that.
Loki was a liar. A damn good one and Thor was too often fooled by those lies. But he heard the surprise. As skilled at lying as Loki was, he had no skill in projecting false emotions. Jerking around roughly, Thor lurched forward and Loki braced himself to get tackled or punched.
Loki was completely unprepared for Thor to wrap both arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and pick him up as he hugged the breath right out of him. He also couldn’t understand why he was allowing the thunderer’s grasp. He was stiff and he wouldn’t allow himself to indicate the gesture was welcome…but he also didn’t fight it.
HELHEIM
The glass in Helheim’s throne room showed the rain dousing the last of the flames. It showed weak curls of smoke slowly rising as wood and stone cooled. Not many were watching, finding such predictable victory rather boring. Odin had a little smile on his face, proud that his son could so easily defeat such a foe with his might.
Hela wasn’t watching the image of Asgard, she was watching Odin. With practice she resisted the urge to roll her eyes from her spot on the throne. Half hidden in one of the shadows, Hela noted Farbauti had rolled her eyes in disgust. But Hela felt a twinge of anticipation. The fun had just started and Odin was twice the fool if he truly believed differently. As if the matter was resolved. That had been nothing. Fodder sent forward to warn Asgard of war. Now it would be a question of if Asgard would respond or if they would wait until Surtur came to them.
It would be better if they waited. Muspelheim was an endless supply of fire. At least war on Asgard gave them a possibility of success, even if the result would be devastating to their realm. Going to him would be suicide. But then again, an AEsir wouldn’t wait. And if Loki was going to seek death, this could be the final battle he craved. Either way, Surtur had merely been stalled, not defeated.
Author's Notes:
I still think my favorite part was when Loki called this a matter of pest control. It just popped in my head and it sounded like something he would say. :)
Next:
Loki and Thor chat; Loki and Sif chat