| H E L |The fields in the mists were the dark places where souls were lost, wandering aimlessly in death as many had in life, an eternity without end, without purpose. On the sides of the twisting, winding, roads which looped back upon themselves, crows feasted on the flesh of the damned, devouring the eyes of those who had committed perjury. The valkyrie was there, the familiar form of the raven-haired girl bound, hand and foot, at the braided warrior's feet. For an honorable sister of the valorous dead, it seemed a rather cowardly thing. Indecent at best. Which was not at all behavior to be expected from the valkyr.
Freya's influence then? Or the Lady Loki? Just how deep did Ikol's web of deception descend?
The braided, blonde, buxom warrior looked up as the blue-skinned child appeared from out of the shadows, walking through the mists in a manner quite unlike the souls passing aimlessly. He walked with a purpose. He walked with his head held high. He walked as though he were
someone. Bristling, the woman flexed her grip on the pommel of the twin blades sheathed at her hip. "On your way, little ant," the Viking war-mistress commanded harshly, waving the young frost giant off.
"I'm afraid I cannot do that."
The woman balked at being spoken back to, her shock quickly evaporating into an anger that seethed through her grimacing smirk as she slapped the handle of one of her swords. "Be gone,
jotun," the woman uttered, spitting on the ground as she said the ancient name of the Frost Giant race. "Before I make you gone."
The boy stopped just a few feet from where the woman towered, though his gaze never once lifted to her eyes. Instead, he seemed focused on the waif at the valkyrie's feet. When he did, finally, lift his eyes, the woman was startled at the fire they held within the blood-red irises. "If my presence disturbs you, you are free to leave," the boy stated in a matter-of-fact tone which seemed to beg no question. "I am not here for
you."
The warrior drew the outer most of the two sword, driving the point down into the dirt, and placing her hands atop the counterweight at the pommel as she glared down at the boy and warned, ominously, "You will address me with the proper respect."
Pausing, the boy seemed to consider her words. But none of the spite in his eyes ever once wavered, so she knew he considered them not as she intended. "A thousand apologies. Allow me to introduce myself, honored lady of Valhalla," the young frost giant intoned, each word more biting than the one before it, as the boy bowed slightly in a way that made the gesture more mocking than sincere. As he straightened up, his head still held high and proud, he said. "I am the Odinson,
king of Asgard, and
lord of your Valhalla." As he finished, the valkyr pulled the sword from out of the earth, holding it at the ready as he stood there, staring up at her with a mixture of contempt and arrogance. "You will address
me with the proper respect."
Holding her sword level with the child's head, the valkyr seemed to be weighing the option to strike or not. Then she laughed. A mirthless, hollow sound. "The sight, or smell, of you makes me want to vomit,
jotun. But you have made me laugh," the woman barked hoarsely, waving him off with the point of her blade. "On your way."
"As my lady commands," the boy answered dully, genuflecting in same, mocking, motion as he added, "When the girl is free to leave as well."
The point of the blade returned, just an inch from his head, aimed precisely between his crimson eyes. "Who are you?" the valkyr demanded.
The blood-red eyes of the young giant traveled up the length of the sword, traversing the distance of her arm until, at last, they stared up at her. And in those eyes, she saw only hate. "I am Loki."
"Loki is Aesir," the valkyr stated, as the sword crept closer, even while he did not so much as flinch or pull away from it. The tip pressed against the flesh atop the bridge of his nose, but he did not waver. That was to his credit. "Aesir and king of Asgard."
"And Thor is said to be a thousand feet tall," the young giant retorted caustically, reaching up with one hand to take hold of the point of her blade and direct it away from his face. "He wields the great hammer Mjolnir and shoots bolts of lightning from out of his arse."
The valkyr hissed at the jest taken in the name of the Aesir. "When I have taken you by the throat and squeezed the breath from your lungs, your last breath will be to give me your name."
"You have had it," the boy intoned flatly, holding out his arms as he stared upward, as though addressing an unseen audience. "If Heimdall's eye be everywhere, then let him look down now. If he has ear, let him hear," the youth stated, far more eloquently than the warrior had expected. Particularly for a frost giant. As his arms fell back by his side, the young giant looked at her again. "For I am Loki, begotten of Laufey and
son of Odin."
"Do not speak the name of Odin,
jotun," the valkyr scoffed angrily, again leveling her blade toward his head. "Profane my liege again and I will remove your liar's tongue."
"Only a fool mistakes that which offends as a lie, accepting instead that which is preferable to an inconvenient truth."
"I grow tired of your voice, worm," the warrior barked, her voice resonating in the mists, as she again pointed with the sword to indicate that he should depart her company. "Leave now, whilst I permit it."
And yet he was unmoved. "I will leave with the girl," the boy stated simply.
"She is of Asgard,
filth," the valkyr snapped, drawing in a breath and then demonstrating her malfeasance by spitting on the young frost giant.
Not
at.
On.The mixture of mucus and saliva hit him just below his left eye, causing him to wince involuntarily. Then, calmly, he raised a hand to wipe away the offending, sticky, wetness from his face. If she had hoped to dim his spirits, then it appeared that she had failed, for when he had looked back up at her -- her spit upon his face, her snot running from between his fingers -- she saw spite in all its purest form. "She is
Leah, daughter of Roman, handmaiden to Sif, and servant to the Halls of Volstagg," the boy stated politely, almost reverently, as though cherishing each word. "...and beloved of the king."
Scoffing again, the valkyr planted her sword into the dirt again. "Of what king do you speak,
jotun?"
"I am he for whom you wait," the child answered cryptically, as his red eyes lit upon hers once more. "I am Loki."
"A strange wish you have,
jotun," the valkyr uttered grimly, plucking her sword from out of the earth and holding it upright. Then she tossed it down at the boy's feet, drawing instead the other blade at her hip, as she took a step back and readied as though for a duel. "But if you desire to die this day, I shall give you the death you seek."
The small giant's eyes glanced briefly down at the sword, the toe of his foot propping it up slightly. "Any idiot can raise a blade," the child noted wryly, pausing as he took a moment to admire her form. "You make that point for me in fact," the youth boasted sarcastically, drawing her ire before adding quickly, "But there is no need for this. What harm has the girl done to you? Let her go."
"A coward I see," the valkyr noted somberly, as though disappointed yet not surprised. Leveling the point of her blade toward his head, she made her own jest. "Too stupid to lift a sword? Or too weak?"
The woman's words made the boy crack a smile. Not a sardonic smile. Not a smirk. But a smile of genuine amusement. "You mistake unwillingness for ignorance. Reluctance for ineptitude," the young giant noted placidly, as though he had already emerged victorious. Locking his eyes on hers, he said only, "I assure you. I am
neither."
The valkyr thrust her weight back. "The fight is begun. You are unwise not to raise your sword!" With those words, she propelled her body forward, sword raised high, coming down in an arc fully intent on splitting the child's head in two.
She saw his move and still did not believe her eyes. Kicking the sword from off the ground with his foot, the boy grabbed hold of the handle and then braced the flat of the blade against his shoulder blade as he took a step to the side. The edge of her sword skidded down the length of his, sparking grinding out in an impressive display, as the valkyr found herself with all of her weight through forward as the boy, quick as a snake, whipped the sword out from behind his back to strike at her leg as she went stumbling by.
She grimaced as she felt the bite of steel, staggering to a halt as she turned, her left hand reaching down to the wound in the back of her calf where he had neatly severed her hamstring.
"I was schooled in your arts of war by
the Warriors Three," the young frost giant stated, casually tossing the sword from his right hand to his left, and then throwing it behind his back and catching it. "Sparred
daily with
Thor from the earliest days I could walk," the youth added, casually spinning the blade like a master swordsman as he leveled it out toward her in the same manner she had at him before. "Test me... at
your peril."
Snarling, the valkyr drove forward again. Ducking left, then right, the boy proved lightning quick as he dodged back, under, or around her efforts. Metal clashed as his strikes were swept aside, as the two danced the warrior's dance of death. Her powerful strokes too slow to catch him, his reach too short to be a threat to her. Round and round they went, until a downward slice gave him opportunity. Using momentum and the weight of his blade to knock her's aside, the boy leapt up and slammed her across the face with his left fist.
Popped her right in the jaw. Cursing, the valkyr took a step back to check that she hadn't lost a tooth. Cradling a bruised pride more than a wounded jaw, the woman saw her own blood as her hand came away from her lips. Looking over at the boy, the warrior asked, "Was it Thor who taught you to hit a woman?"
Chest heaving, the young giant was obviously starting to struggle at maintaining his energy in the fight. "No," the youth offered breathlessly. "That was Hogun."
"Where?"The voice boomed from out of the mists, as the shroud parted and there, in golden armor, was the one-eyed observer of Asgard. The newly installed Lord of Hel. The one foretold to kill Loki.
"Lord Heimdall," the boy uttered, at once at a loss of what to do. Should he be afraid? Should he be grateful? If Freya had betrayed Odin, then whose side was Heimdall on?
"Where did Hogun teach you to hit a woman?" the dark Aesir lord boomed, as he looked down on the valkyr and the giant.
"Svartálfaheimr," the boy stated simply.
And Heimdall said... nothing.
As he turned his head, Loki caught a fleeting glimpse of a large, valkyr fist. The woman's punch caught the boy about the head, blinding him as a series of stars exploded across his vision. Caught off-balance, the boy tried to ready his sword in case she pressed the attack. "You hit..." the child began, before he found his legs giving out on him. As he sank down to the ground, darkness claiming him, he uttered, "like... a girl..."
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