Chapter 15
MUSPELHEIM
It wasn’t what he thought it would be and the rage lost a little more of its hold over Loki. Perhaps he had waited too long, but as he glanced at Thor he knew that wasn’t the reason. Given the longevity of their race from a relative standpoint he could have maintained his anger for centuries longer. It wasn’t shame that filled him and he didn’t regret his actions but it was as if the hesitation that he’d been struggling with for months had become an emotion all its own. He’d never seen Thor look so grim, so grieved. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the expressions on Sif’s and Volstagg’s face. He could feel the tension in Hunther who stood a mere foot from him. He didn’t like it. The one time his plans didn’t completely blow up in his face and he found himself wishing they had.
His actions had been for the sake of vengeance, not revenge. He found little satisfaction from it since this retribution hadn’t been about him. Asgard had been filled with weak, arrogant fools to believe they were impenetrable. The capture of what turned out to be the dark elves had been sloppy and he wasn’t sure who he blamed more. The AEsir deserved punishment…and now they had received it. But of anyone, there was one who deserved the most blame and that person wasn’t here. The man who had been in a position to see the pattern and had not acted. The man who had allowed the requirements of the interior guard to slacken. But the person who had failed her the most was no longer living.
Loki looked outward and caught sight of Surtur laughing again and it was as if everything went silent. An epiphany. These were his mother’s people by marriage, since she was not AEsir, but they had become her people as she had become their queen. He ignored the methods he chose because it was the results that mattered. And the result was that now these were his people. He was their king. His will was their life. They weren’t his enemy. Thanos was his enemy. The rage shifted and focused on a target. Surtur was his enemy. Slowly Loki bared his teeth as wisps of green magic slinked around him. He held out his hand and a plank of wood ripped away from the boxes and flew into his waiting hand.
Tipping the wood to the ground, he watched with a blank expression as it easily caught on fire. The war council’s way could work at slowing Surtur down but it certainly wouldn’t stop him. Even if he were willing to expose himself to Asgard as a Frost Giant by using the Casket of Ancient Winters he kept in his dimensional storage, which he wasn’t, it would be a similar blunt effect. Surtur would be frozen but the magical fire that sustained the heart of him would eventually burn through.
Everything burned and it was only more fuel for Surtur’s advantage. He thought of Hela’s spell that he’d already memorized. His green eyes flicked in Surtur’s direction before focusing back on the flame consuming the wood. Another flick to the left as he took in the injured as well as the dead, those still able to fight armed with those canisters to keep the fire back in addition to their weapons. A green glow wrapped around his hand as he reached out until his skin was millimeters from the fire. He suppressed a wince from the heat that scorched his skin. He could feel his magic moving in sync with the energy that was necessary to maintain the flame and formed a purposeful fist. At the center the fire popped outward and was immediately extinguished. He glanced at his hand, to see the red on his skin. It was a minor burn, it would heal. But he also understood the significance. He nodded to himself in understanding.
It could work. Loki exhaled slowly before he pushed doubt to the side. If he had learned nothing else, only when he allowed doubt to crowd in did he fail. No, this will work.
While Loki was focused on a solution to this disaster, Fandral had focused on the men. Those that had died as well as those that had survived. More than a few of them were glaring at Tyr when his back was turned.
Tyr hadn’t been directly involved in the battle that killed Fandral’s father, but it had been a superior officer who had made a bad call during it that had left him fatherless. Fandral felt those old emotions sweep over him and now he asked what he’d wished he’d been old enough to ask after his father had died as he approached, “Are you quite pleased with yourself, General?”
Tyr didn’t even glance in his direction. “I am never pleased with defeat.”
The blond warrior paused. “Then why would you ignore a tactician?” It’s not that Loki had a formal title to that effect, but it was a quietly known strength of his.
The general fought to maintain his temper. “I do not need to hear opinions from a lower rank.”
Fandral stepped into his line of sight. “Since you don’t want to heed the opinions of a higher rank I thought you might find it refreshing.”
Tyr growled softly, anger at himself getting wrapped up in this discussion that was about to turn ugly. “You are fortunate you are not still within my direct command--…”
Fandral took a step closer, boldly daring this man without words to act as common sense flew right out the window. “What could you possibly do?” Sif and the others finally seemed to realize matters were escalating and moved to drag Fandral back. While it was understood that the warriors 3 were companions of Thor and they currently had the king’s ear, none of them had actually put that perceived protection to the test.
“My friend. Matters are far too grim to resort to fighting amongst ourselves.” Volstagg succeeded in leading Fandral away with an arm around his shoulders while Sif turned to glare at Tyr over her shoulder.
While Tyr was known for being even tempered, that control had already been pushed past the breaking point. He was also well aware that the way her body was positioned Sif was seconds from physically reacting. “Step back, warrior.” Tyr barked the command.
Sif pivoted on her heel to regard him fully. “I invite you to force me.”
“This is my final--…”
She cocked her head ever so slightly and interrupted him, “You still haven’t answered his question.” She moved the distance, her palm caressing the hilt of her sheathed weapon in an unspoken threat. “Are you pleased? Are you satisfied now that these men are dead because of you?” She stepped closer and hissed, “Would you have dared to defy Lord Odin as you have our king?”
Tyr’s arm tensed to shove the warrioress away since he wouldn’t actually harm a lower rank when he was knew of how tempers flared during war. But he stumbled back a step when Loki was suddenly between them, an invisible blow to Tyr’s face causing his balance to falter. It was a magical attack that one would liken to a slap to the face. It stunned the general but it didn’t actually hurt him. Loki didn’t turn his head as he softly chided her. “Sif. I did not give you permission to do my work for me.” Sif blinked, some of the anger and tension in her body fading. Now Loki turned enough to smirk over his shoulder. “Annoying the general is my self-appointed task.”
Sif’s felt her own lips twitch before she took a step back and bowed with a fist to her heart. “Forgive me, sire.”
After a pause for Loki to give a slight nod, she rejoined the others. Loki focused back on the general who had regained his balance. He spoke louder than necessary but he did it with a reason, “You can throw yourself at Surtur if you like, Tyr, but not a single man will be ordered to comply with your further commands that aren’t approved by myself. Do you still have issue or are you prepared to obey your sovereign?” The surrounding soldiers and lower ranked warriors were all staring hard at the general.
Tyr swallowed his pride and for once ignored the men that made up the war council sputtering behind him. “No, sire.”
“Good.” The surrounding tension faded and the men returned to their injured comrades. Loki looked as if he were about to turn before he froze and lowered his voice. “Oh, and I wish to make one fact very clear.” The trickster took two steps forward until he was uncomfortably invading Tyr’s personal space. Sharp, black claws replaced his fingernails and he dug them into the front of Tyr’s armor to keep him from stepping back. AEsir armor was not a simple, weak metal like iron or steel. Yet the claws formed noticeable marks. Loki was not one for drawing lines. He preferred to play outside of them. But since these men seemed determined to test his resolve he was feeling generous enough to oblige them. “In the future if either by hand or by weapon you attempt to harm Fandral, Sif, Hogun, Volstagg, or Thor I will cut off your head…personally.” He purred the last word and showed the general the means in which he would remove his head when he wiggled his fingers and bared his teeth. “And yes, they are quite real when I wish them to be.” He took in Tyr’s surprise and asked, “Is that also understood?”
Tyr glanced down at the pointed, black claws on pale fingers that had left some impressive gouges in his armor. He’d seen similar claws capable of such markings once before. But that was a memory from over a thousand years ago.
Suddenly some things that hadn’t made sense to him did. But he didn’t speak of it. He wouldn’t even allow himself to think of it. But he also lost a lot of respect for Odin. Respect that had been reduced and strained when the All-Father had taken from Vanaheim his war-bride…and now this…
He nodded his head deeply instead, “Yes, sire. I understand and obey.” He had seen Loki as the lacking second son who had been given a birthright because no one else wanted it. Now he saw differently. He saw a man who’d had a choice of not only which realm to rule, but of which species he would call his people. His choice was to call the AEsir his own.
Loki narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, not certain where Tyr’s sudden impulse to use formal address came from even though he didn’t suspect treachery. “Thor…” Thor turned instantly, Mjolnir in hand and ready to fight. Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun; all of them focused on Loki. They would fight to their last breath. And it was a possibility it would be their last breath if it didn’t work. Loki just nodded slowly to himself and turned away from Tyr, decision made. “Organize the men to unload the skiffs. I also want four of those canisters. I know how to defeat him.”
ASGARD
The mass exodus from Asgard was an organized affair for all of its haste. Families were wrapped tightly around one another, little to no possessions accompanying them beyond the clothes on their backs. Their lives were more important than mere possessions.
After three days the constant tremors had almost become normal. So when they stopped everyone paused. Heimdall’s golden eyes turned away from the controls, looking out of the golden dome. Even at the end of the Bi-frost the tremors that had shaken the golden realm for three days had been felt. Their sudden lack was disturbing.
Eir, the most respected healer of Asgard, continued to shoo families into position with her professional mask firmly in place. A page at her side marked through each name to ensure that no one was left behind. There were two guards positioned on either side of the dome entrance, to maintain order. They both shifted nervously, feeling something heavy in the air. As if something was about to happen.
The crowd had thinned, a few dozen families still on Asgard, along with a few warriors to protect those that remained until the golden realm was empty. A trio of warriors moved from street to street, hustling along stragglers. The oldest of the group stopped to look over the once thriving city that was almost empty.
He slowly shook his head to himself. Generation had been born and grown up here over thousands of years. Never had a threat been so grave that it had been abandoned. How had it all come to this?
He looked down, feeling it again and almost sighing in irritation. The tremors were back. But unlike before they kept escalating. But sound and fury followed, a wall of indescribable sound that became a roar. The warriors with him covered their ears as the sound became so loud it was almost deafening. The walls started to crack. The shaking intensified until it was nearly impossible to remain standing. Statues tipped over and broke upon impact.
He looked to the mountains in dread. It was happening.
MUSPELHEIM
The six skiffs were cleared of all cargo. Loki spend a few minutes tinkering with the internal circuitry of each of the four canisters, essentially removing the need for them to be manually operated, before instructing his comrades to load them onto a skiff. Loki nodded to himself before turning to Tyr. “Wait as long as you can before sending men to Vanaheim.”
“These men are in need of aid, sire.” His argument had less to do with pride and more to do with concern over the men that remained.
Loki didn’t even attempt to temper his tongue, snapping at him, “Yes, most assuredly they are…because of you.”
“We had no way of knowing--…”
Loki cut him off viciously. “I believe I explained myself quite clearly.” The words were spoken with an exaggeration of care. Thor winced, well familiar with the tone. Loki had used it against him more than once when his brash actions had nearly cost one of their group their life. It was a Loki well and truly pissed off, letting sarcasm and disdain saturate his voice. “But you chose to ignore the advice of your king and this is the result.”
“I--…yes, sire.”
Green sparked in his eyes, letting Tyr see every ounce of the rage that remained and the general fell mute. “We are done with discussions. Now, you will listen to me.” Loki glanced over the wounded lying next to the dead. “Heimdall is evacuating Asgard, General Tyr. I should think some precedence needs to be given to the women and children.”
“These men fought bravely.” Tyr stiffened just a little in protest.
“They fought, for Asgard. They died, for Asgard. A sacrifice that would not be necessary were it not for your stupidity.” Loki’s eyes moved enough to encompass several of the war council standing near in that statement. Tyr’s mouth opened, but he wisely if forcibly shut it again without speaking. “They fought not just for the realm, but for their families. It would be a poor repayment of that sacrifice for their families to die.”
Tyr pulled in a slow breath and nodded obediently. “What should we do, sire?”
“Why do you think that Surtur has not stormed the distance?” The men listening turned to regard Surtur who was almost casually standing, watching and waiting. Loki explained further, “He perceives us as his playthings. So long as we remain, he will wait for us to go to him.” Horror raced across their faces. Protest seemed likely to follow so Loki kept talking. “This is not a creature that will obey the honorable rules of combat. If we attempt to leave, even just to evacuate the injured, he will obliterate us and move on to the next.”
One of the warriors at the back asked softly, “How do you know this?”
The trickster quirked an eyebrow in his direction as if the answer was obvious. “There are no warriors on Asgard, yet our realm is still destined to be consumed along with the women and children that remained behind.” He paused for a moment before he asked, “Does that tell you nothing?” Then there was also past precedent. This was not the first time Surtur had fought the realms. From that past example it was quite obvious he wanted to destroy all trace of their species, which spoke of an adversary that didn’t adhere to the methods and beliefs that AEsir fought by.
“Then you will use these men as bait.”
Loki was ready for that retort. “A diversion, actually.” Because for them it was all about the semantics of a word. “Bait implies that I wish him to cross the distance.” It might be unavoidable but it wasn’t a reaction from Surtur that Loki wanted. At least, not anymore. “I do not. There will be nothing left of us if that occurs.”
“Should we not move them out of the line of fire, at least?”
Loki just looked at Tyr before sighing softly. “Where on this forsaken rock would there be shelter? The very planet is an enemy.” Gesturing towards the magic shell. “This is a temporary solution and the only one.” Tyr moved as if to speak and Loki held up a halting hand. “Spare me. My patience with your defiance has ended, General Tyr. Thor can take your place if you prefer before any more of my men die needlessly because of you.” Thor silently stood a little taller, jaw set and eyes hard. Obviously the elder brother was ready to take over as general if needed.
Tyr wanted to protest that that hadn’t been his intention but he swallowed those words. He could feel the eyes of the men injured on the pair of them and felt the weight of those stares. No general was perfect, just as no man was. But a true AEsir warrior stepped beyond their ego when victory was at stake. “What is your will, my lord?”
“Separate the wounded from the dead.” Tyr looked horrified but for once he wisely held his tongue so Loki felt generous enough to explain further. “They will not be forgotten, but focus should be given to the living…the dead can wait.” Loki fanned his arm out in a half moon shape. “Of those able to fight, form a perimeter. A few will accompany me to keep Surtur occupied but do not underestimate him. His little fiery companions I expect will still keep trying to increase the death toll.” Loki glanced at Surtur before turning his attention back to Tyr. “Most importantly. If we fail Vanaheim will be his next likely target.” Tyr felt a jolt of surprise, but there was also respect in those blue eyes. So focused on the now, it didn’t occur to him to consider future targets. “Warn them if they haven’t had the brains to heed my earlier missive, then retreat to Alfheim. AEsir and Vanir might combined with elven intellect may be the only way to stop him.”
Tyr felt like a fool. The son that had been dismissed by the warriors and he realized it had been a mistake. Before him was a strategist that might very well be even more clever than his father. What made it more shameful was that he had been one of the ones that trained Loki. He should have taken the time to see beyond the surface. He clenched his hand to his heart with a bow of his head. “Sire.”
Loki turned, refusing to allow the irritation he felt to show across his face. He could never get the respect he deserved through easy means. Instead he smirked before he turned, projecting arrogance like a cloak. He rubbed his hands together as he approached his small group of co-conspirators. “Now for the fun part.”
Thor stepped forward. “I wish to fight beside you, brother.”
Loki just smirked expectantly. “You will. After all, I have something that requires to be hit really hard.” The trickster gestured in Surtur’s direction. It was almost a running joke between the pair of them. Thor’s solution to everything involved hitting it. He formed a battle grim smile and hefted Mjolnir. Loki would expect nothing less from Thor. He glanced to his right at the blond warrior who was watching and waiting expectantly. “Fandral, you are the most skilled in maneuvering a skiff.”
Fandral held his fist to his heart, bowing his head slightly. “I would be honored, sire.”
He looked at the others and knew some of them were not going to be happy with him. Just to cut down on the arguments, he used his right hand to lift four of the skiffs into the air by manipulating the controls with magic so they had no choice.
Hogun looked as grim as ever. “You wish us to remain.”
Loki pointed at him. “Not you. I have a special task for you.”
The mostly silent warrior gave him a considering look before he asked, “Dangerous?”
“Of course. It is most likely you won’t survive.” Something like grim amusement lit Hogun’s eyes as he nodded ever so slightly and boarded the remaining skiff with the four modified canisters. At Loki’s nod, Fandral boarded the same skiff and took over the controls. As king Loki didn’t have to explain anything, yet he chose not to ignore these people. No. If only to himself he would label them correctly. He would explain what he needed of…his friends. Turning to Sif and Volstagg. “I require you to defend the warriors that remain here.” For a moment the pair of them looked to object, neither wanting to be left behind when there was a glorious fight ahead. But they both held their tongues, not about to publicly undermine Loki’s authority.
“Why are we not evacuating them, sire?” Sif asked with the slightest of frowns. But unlike Tyr her question was one that was seeking clarification only. She trusted that he had a good reason.
“All in good time, Sif.” A flicker of an impish grin pulled at his lips before he hid it.
Fandral mastered the controls easily. “We’re ready, sire.” He stood tall, Thor turning to glance at Loki to await his word.
Loki’s lips twitched, speaking to Thor. “Try to operate these controls just a little better.” He was reflecting on their escape from Asgard in a borrowed dark elf ship that had done a good bit of damage to Asgard due to Thor’s poor piloting skills.
Thor had an instant scowl ready for him as he fiddled with a few switches. “At least I can fly.”
Loki scoffed. “You throw your hammer and get tugged along for the ride. That’s not flying. You’re a child’s kite.” At Thor’s confused expression over what a kite was, Loki waved a dismissive hand, refusing to explain Midgardian toys. Loki didn’t glance at the men around him. His attention was focused on Sif who stared calmly back. After a hesitant moment he bent just enough to whisper almost silently in Sif’s ear. Quiet enough that no sound carried. Her eyes widened, staring straight ahead over Loki’s shoulder and not making a sound. Then he continued forward, not looking back. He paused for just a moment longer next to Hunther, and murmured softly, “Fight bravely, not stupidly.” Then he leapt lightly onto the topless transport.
Thor frowned as his brother came to stand next to him but Loki didn’t return his glance. There was a moment that hovered in the air, the comrades all silently exchanging looks before they were separated as all the skiffs disappeared as if they had never been there, shrouded by magic. Sif still didn’t utter a word, pressing her lips together firmly.
Volstagg looked like he was trying to be cheerful but not succeeding particularly well. “They’ll be victorious and return soon enough.”
Sif still didn’t reply, Loki’s softly spoken words repeating over and over in her mind.
“I have not the time for regrets Lady, save once. I recall a young girl I was most infatuated with…and like most young men I knew no better than to tease and torment to gain her attention. I regret that if I had been braver, I would have sought to court her.”
Her mind kept turning, trying to figure out why he would tell her something like that now. They were civil now, perhaps they even considered themselves friends, but it had been centuries since Sif had entertained such feelings for the trickster. A mad crush that had ended in despair and bitterness with the loss of her golden hair. Although now that she understood that the loss hadn’t been at his hand she just felt confused and mourned a lost opportunity.
Loki was always so careful to keep everything hidden. She couldn’t figure out why he would just offer her such a truth that she could viciously use to humiliate him. But in the back of her mind she held a suspicion. A suspicion that perhaps…that had been his way of saying goodbye. She swallowed once, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
ASGARD
Screams echoed throughout Asgard, the remaining citizens running for the bridge. An explosion threw them all off their feet, eyes lifting as pillars of smoke filled the air from mountains that no longer had peaks. Unlike a natural volcano there was no more waiting. Ash and fire started to rain down from the sky. Mothers covered their whimpering children. Men not trained or unfit for combat sheltered their families or lifted a hand to protect their eyes. They were seconds from being engulfed and they awaited the inevitable.
Heimdall and Eir both took steps onto the bridge. There were still people here and neither of them would leave until there was no choice. Yet those that were looking up felt their mouths drop open in amazement as the shooting rock and fiery debris encountered a black and green magical bubble that was sheltering the city from impact.
They didn’t stop to wonder, although many shouted their praises to their king since he was the most well-known seidmadr and they assumed this was his work. As soon as they were able they picked themselves up and ran. Heimdall and Eir stood side by side, seeing the remaining citizens running towards them and watching the volcanic debris bounce off a magical shield to tumble to the side. Magma was oozing out of the mountain top, leaving a fiery trail of charred destruction in its wake. But the path was diverted away from the city and ended in the water.
Both of them knew what Loki’s magic looked like when it manifested. Depending on the spell, sometimes it had a golden sheen to it but it was almost always green. A very specific green and this magical shell was not that color as black had never been mixed with his spell work. This was close, but different. They both shared a look, wondering how this had happened and who was responsible.
Author's Notes:
So I had this request concerning Tyr and I thought it would be awesome to add. If I'm successful, you won't even notice the change unless you read the previous incarnation of this story. Hopefully it's seamless.
Next:
The real fight