The winds of Niflheim, part 4B
Title: The winds of Nifleheim
Author: MissisJoker
Pairing: n/a
Rating :PG
Warnings: a bit of gore but nothing too explicit
Disclaimer: own nothing to my great despair.
Loki managed to slow down the onslaught but his efforts of attacking back resulted in nothing, and the whole fight came to a standstill. He was panting hard, his lungs were on fire from the lack of oxygen, and eyes were burning from sweat that rolled down his face in constant streams.
He swirled and threw his sword forward, blocking elf's spear inches from his neck and swung his torso backwards to avoid the blow that came immediately after.
It took the elves a while to find a real Loki among his magic incarnations, but once they did, they disregarded his magic clones and concentrated the attack on him. As that happened, the hail of strikes and punches blurred the world around Loki into one massive glistening of metal, and now he was surrounded by the enemy, like a pray, stalked into a circle of death.
They were good, too good for Loki's taste, their motions precise and articulated, and all set to kill, and he was only alive because he was better.
It became harder and harder to concentrate and parry the blows through the haze of pain and tiredness, and Loki hissed as a spear slashed across his left thigh. It was just a scratch, but it gave away his growing weakness, for that the elves finally got close enough to gash him.
He was running out of time.
Loki could simply give in, let the elves finish him, welcome the death like a dearest friend for it would finally bring peace to his wounded soul and ruboring mind, but then...
Then the army of Asgard would find his mutilated body amongst the fallen. And they would muse on his brief return from the dead and give him a funeral with soldier honors, so the whole Asgard would gather around the pyre with masks of sorrow on their faces, playing a grieving crowd from those outside the realm.
And later Odin would through a feast to celebrate his foster son's so anticipated and this time certain demise.
No, Loki won't give them such pleasure.
Loki frowned and landed his fist right into the elf's nose, crushing it into a pulp, but the bones rearranged themselves and the ripped skin healed before he could blink twice.
The King of Asgard threw a spell in his enemies, throwing elves off their feet for long enough to gather his thoughts.
He had power left only for one more incantation before his body would give in to exhaustion, and he had to choose wisely.
What would it be?
Everyone always assumed Loki was a creature of the night, an embodiment of deceit that lurked in shadows, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But he never liked darkness, nor he liked cold or ice or water, he was intimidated by them.
Instead, Loki was always fascinated by fire and light, lured by their warmth and beauty, enamored by their ability to disperse blackness with a single sparkle, but people around him were too blind to see that.
An old wizard from Midgard taught him a powerful and dangerous incantation when he was a child. A simple conjuration of fire that could kill everyone in hearing distance including the magi himself once performed right.
Just what he needed.
Loki tried it only once, in much less damaging version, and it worked. That day he burned his hands, Sif lost her luscious hair and Thor was deprived of his first grown beard that he was so proudly showing off to maidens.
Yes, indeed, a very good incantation.
Just get close to the elves, and let it slip from your lips, and you will finally purify yourself...
Loki darted forward, whispering the spell, and closed his fingers around the elven prince's neck, but the spell died on his lips as his hand turned dark and scarred, mirroring his enemy's appearance, just as it did on Jotunheim.
“Impossible!”- Loki's eyes widened in shock, but the same second a heavy blow came down his head and everything went dark.
******
Frigga continued to spin, watching quietly as her son's magical doubles had been stricken down one by one. Each time her heart jerked in fear in her chest, but each time she knew her son was alive, because the rest of the clones were still fighting.
When the last one flickered and disappeared into the night as a whirl of green smoke, Frigga knew her son had been captured.
But the shield on the door stood strong, which meant her youngest was still alive...
Of course, the elves wont miss the opportunity to humiliate their enemies. They would bound him and torture him and put on display in the cage, starved and filthy, like a animal.
Frigga got up from the floor and put away her spindle. The skies turned black with the thick storm clouds and now, with each gust of wind, the heavy banging of rain drops on the roof and walls and windows grew louder and louder.
Whether it was a loss or a victory mattered not to the Queen. She was a mother, and wherever her child's destiny lied she was going to share.
A very strong blast of wind hit the roof and tore away the tile, baring the wooden arch and the thunderstorm above it.
Frigga picked up a small clay plate from the floor and threw it through the opening, watching with relief as the plate flew through the hole meeting no obstacle and landing with a cling somewhere outside.
Her son sealed the doors and windows, but left the top open, for he would never expect a woman of her age to be physically able to climb that far up.
“My silly boy”, Frigga smiled to herself, pounced around couple of times, feeling her legs, then jumped up, swung around in mid air, using wall as a springboard, and with a perfect somersault threw herself through the roof.
*******
Loki knew he was still alive, for that his whole body was screaming in pain.
He called upon oblivion, but a hard slap on the cheek mercilessly pulled him out of half-dreaming state.
He tried to open his eyes and regretted it the very second, as his eyes ached from all the blood streaming down his face.
One of the elven spears hit him in the forehead, and the wound was bleeding profoundly, covering Loki's pale face with a veil of red.
That will definitely leave a scar...
He just shut his eyes again.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty, you're not going to die on us now, are you?”
Loki ignored the insulting tone and instead proceeded to estimate his condition.
His right arm was broken, and several ribs were definitely cracked as each breath sent a jolt of agonizing ache through his body.
His movements were constricted by heavy metal shackles on his wrists and something that felt like a dog collar on his neck. He tried to turn his head and growled as the movement was met with a sharp sting of metal spikes piercing his sensitive skin.
A necklace of the condemned, as it was known. A string of hardened leather embroidered with dozens of silver fangs to prevent the victim from moving, a symbol of shame and submission to the victor.
Loki flickered his fingers and barely suppressed a smile as a spark of magic burned his fingertips slightly.
So, his capturers strapped him of dignity and ability to move, but left his greatest weapon- magic- intact?
Perhaps his last star performance assured them that he was completely drained of energy...
Over self-confident, aren't we?
He allowed the sides of his chopped lips to curve into undetectable smirk.
********
The elven prince dragged the Aesir up by the hair, trying to bring the other back to consciousness, but as his grip on the raven locks got tighter, the prince's eyes remained closed.
The dark-haired man opened his mouth and licked away the moisture from his lips as the rain started to fall on the plain.
Then he spoke, voice coarse like a sand on the rocks.
“You're no longer invincible.”
The elf looked around and snorted,
“Let it rain. Let it snow and hail and shower, that won't change anything. You're finished, and I,” he paused to smile, “have an army.”
Suddenly the pair of ice-blue eyes pierced him and the elf shivered, as Loki's mouth twisted into evil simper.
“What army?”
Elf jolted away from the Trickster and froze, horrified, as two dozen of heads hit the ground in unison and the elven bodies followed, mowed down by Loki's newly conjured doubles .
The twenty clones of Loki leered concordantly and dissipated, as their master fainted from the strain the spell had put on him.
The elven prince wailed in anger and horror and swung his sword to finish the offender but stopped in mid-movement as a dagger came flying from afar and hit him straight to the chest. His heart stopped in instant and he fell slain towards his dead comrades.
*****
Loki dreamed of the past; of the days brightened with sunshine and laughter and joy, of wast flower fields of Asgard where he played with his brother when they were small, of quiet evenings in the royal bed chambers, of the firewood crackle in the chimney, and of mother's welcoming arms.
He remembered how she would catch him running through the doors, and swirl him around and kiss his cheeks until they were burning red, ignoring his undignified protests...It was the best time of his life.
But it was all a lie.
Loki swallowed a limp in his scorched throat. A keen mind was his gift and misfortune, and he often wondered how easier would it have been if he could just throw a tantrum, like Thor, and forget the insult the next morning.
But he could not.
He kept playing all the bad moments of his life over and over again, seeing it how he should have seen if he knew the truth. The insults, the favoritism, the unfairness...it all condensed into a poison that slowly ate away his heart.
The man drew in the air through his clenched teeth and prayed for the delirium to overcome him. He was going to die, but he wanted only to remember those sunny days of his childhood, before the war, before the betrayal, so he could at least die happy...
His body screamed in protest as two arms helped him from the ground and wrapped around him, cradling him in warmth. He tried to pull free, but the grasp tightened, as if the person holding him was afraid of letting go.
Loki winced and sluggishly tried to fight off the attack, wriggling his way out of the hold, but embrace only stiffened, followed by the gentle fingers brushing the hair off his forehead, and soft lips planting disorderly kisses all over his face.
It was wrong, it was intolerable, his poisoned brain kept whispering him, but it felt so damn good that Loki just let himself enjoy it for a moment, lingering into the embrace.
“Oh, child, don't you worry, I've got you, I've got you now...”
That voice.... So familiar and dear, calling his name over and over again...
“Loki. Please, Loki, my dear, open your eyes...”
Loki's mind refused to listen, but his eyelids obeyed without hesitation and when his sight focused, he saw Frigga holding his head on her thighs and rocking him slightly as if he was a newborn.
Her eyes were rimmed with red from crying and hair...her golden locks were gone, and the short uneven spikes were plastered on her weary face.
“Your hair...”
Frigga gaped and rejoiced as her child had spoken to her, and smile immediately brightened up her face, making her look young and beautiful again.
“Loki, thanks Norns...”
“What happened?” Loki demanded and looked up to the skies that were still pouring down the haze of rain, and everything suddenly got into the place.
“You've cut it?”
Loki looked at the woman incredulously, “you've cut it...for me?”
His voice trembled and broke into whisper muffled by the gust of wind.
Frigga sighed ,
“Oh, my baby, ” and looked straight into the bottomless blues staring at her, “I will die for you, if need be.”
Loki shook his head, trying to weird dream, this hallucination that's been torturing him for that it couldn't be true, no way in Hel could it be true...
“What?”
Frigga tugged him closer, “Why do you even have to ask? You are my child, and I...”
Loki shrank back and pushed away from the woman, angry at her and at himself for his weakness.
“But I am not your son!”
He stumbled to his feet, grateful that elven shackles and collar were broken and gone, forgotten somewhere in the dirt. His body was on fire, every nerve screaming in pain, his ankles threating to buckle under his weight.
But anger boiled through his veins and he stood up, proud and accusing, glaring at Frigga with his piercing gaze.
“You were never my mother!”
“Loki, I love you, I have always loved you and always will...”
“Enough already! You lied to me all my life, at least stop lying now!”
A shadow of pain flashed across Frigga's face and Loki instantly felt ashamed for causing it, but his blood kept boiling and he was too tired to stop anger from spilling.
“You never saw me as a son, did you? What was I for you? A breathing toy? An exotic puppy? A living trophy that you could play with? “
He paused to catch his breath,
“Why are you here, milady? Oh, I bet there is a purpose! Let me guess, your dear husband had found a new use for me, and send you to convince me...Isn't it so, isn't it? “
He shouted at his Queen and his heart bled as tears started pouring down her face.
“ I beg you, bethink yourself...”
“You think your petty tears would change my mind? You think you can simply hug me and make me forget years of your false play? Do you really think...”
He didn't get a chance to finish as a blinding lightning slashed across the skies and the wind hardened, almost throwing him off his feet.
He looked back at his mother and shied away as she looked thunderous, brows frowned, lips pursed into thin line.
A childish fear sprang inside him at this magnificent sight. He opened his mouth to spit another insult, but shut it close as Frigga's low voice sounded through the night.
“Enough. I will not be listening to this nonsense. I made a mistake of concealing your heritage earlier, and for that I beg your forgiveness. But don't you dare to doubt me in my love for you.”
She took a few steps forward, just to be close enough to him, and looked into Loki's eyes as he didn't dare to move.
“I did not give birth to you, Loki, but you are my child and always will be. I watched you grow, I saw your first step, I heard your first word...I am your mother and I love you above all, and I will love you as long as my heart beats.”
Loki shuddered as all his mental barriers came crushing down at her words, and he praised the skies for the rain that hid away his treacherous tears. His words came out like nothing but a whisper, “Please, leave me alone...”
Frigga came even closer, so their bodies were almost touching.
“You want me to leave? You want me to seize loving you? Well, then you'll have to kill me, my dear, for only death can tear you away from my heart.”
Loki froze for a second, and then gave in, opening his arms as Frigga stepped into his embrace.
A single word felt from his lips before he broke down to quiet sobs in the Queen's arms,
“Mother...”
And there they stood, and Loki whispered “I'm sorry, so sorry...”, while his mother fondled his hair, letting his sorrows flood away through his tears.
*********
When the trickster calmed down, he felt an elegant hand press on his heart, and pushed aside to look at his mother inquiringly.
The woman just smiled softly and cupped his cheek,
“You're hurt, my son, let me help you.”
And as she spoke, tiny flows of golden energy spilled from her fingers and slither into his body, filling every part of him with warmth and love and light, making him glow from the inside.
Loki gasped in surprise as he felt his bones grow together and his wounds heal, living no scars, no marks, not even smallest of scratches, and the energy streamed through him, rejuvenating and reviving.
“I didn't know you could heal...”
His mother smiled at him, tracing his jaw with delicate fingers.
“Every Aesir woman can heal...those, whom she loves most.”
Loki's heart skipped a beat, as he smiled shyly, blush crawling its way to his pale face. He lowered his eyes, then asked, “Mother...I...My skin, it turned dark when I touched the elf, I don't understand...”
“Oh,” Frigga looked perplexed, then a thought swept over her face.
“We might have been wrong, all of us.”
She put her arms on Loki's shoulders and moved closer, as if she was sharing a secret.
“When Odin burst into the temple, he was looking for the secret weapon Laufey threatened to use against Aesir...He thought he seized it when he found the Casket, but he might have been wrong...”
Loki glanced at his mother, obviously confused, “What are you saying?”
“Well, I heard a legend once...”
Her tale was stopped by a screeching sound that came from under the pile of bodies. Loki swirled around, preparing to fight, and to his horror saw the source of it.
It was a small golden locket that the fallen elven prince had around his neck. The trinket suddenly sprang alive, the tiny links of the chain separated for a moment, flowing down the dead body, dragging the locket along with them, and then they reattached, and darted back from Loki's sight, worming their way through the mud like a thin golden snake.
It took Loki a split of a second to recognize the magic behind it and he rushed after it, desperately trying to catch up and destroy the cursed object before it was too late, but he failed.
A locket burst into sparkles and cracked wide open, and a whirlwind of fire spurt into the sky, as Loki backed away from it, terrified.
He flew back to his mother as fast as he could.
He didn't have to look at it to know that in several seconds the flame would shape itself into a giant sizzling figure with horns and wings and claws that would spring forward and destroy every living being on its way.
He read of them in the ancient scrolls, the living flame of the doomed, the demon of Muspellheim.
He came across the tale from distant past when he was hiding from Thor in the dungeons.
A legend spoke of unimaginable evil born in the lands of eternal fire and the race of warriors from the land of infinite cold that helped Aesir defeat the demons and lock them away in their realm of damnation.
But those warriors were long gone, disappeared into the mist without a trace, leaving no words of wisdom or spells that they used against Muspellheim monsters.
And now one of those monsters was hungrily tracing Loki's retreating back.
Loki grasped his horror stricken mother and shook her back to her senses,
“Mother, you have to go, NOW!”
Frigga looked at him and shook her head, perfectly calm,
“I'm not leaving.”
Loki growled in frustration, there wasn't any time for arguing, “Leave, now! I won't be able to hold it for long!”
“You want me to run away and leave you for dead?”
“Mother, enough! I can't destroy it, I can only distract it so you can escape...”
A hand cupped Loki's cheek as Frigga smiled at him reassuringly, a confidence shining bright in her eyes.
“Oh yes you do, you just don't know it yet.”
Loki stared back at her in shock. “Mother, have you...gone mad?!”
Frigga tsked, “Don't get saucy with me.”
She wiggled a finger at him and smiled again, “Now go and kill that monster. I have faith in you.”
For a change Loki was at loss of words. He just blinked several times, then turned away to face the demon.
The narration he read spoke of a sorcerer, the greatest among the warriors, the prince of their race, who used his magic to call upon the great chill, the winds of Nifleheim as the author called it, a whirl of frost and cold so powerful that it swept away the blistering heat and turned the demons to ashes.
So that's what he has to do. That's the only way to stop the demon, to freeze him over, but how?
If he only had a Casket of ancient winters with him...But the relic was gone.
Loki sighed and started to concentrate.
********
Frigga stood behind her son in silence, waiting for him to find his real power hidden deep inside his soul.
She had her suspicions before, but she had never gotten a chance to prove herself right...until now.
Frigga shivered as cold crept its way through her clothes. Her son looked back at her and twitched his fingers, sending a stream of fire down to earth to encircle her, keeping her protected and warm.
Then he looked to the skies, muttering spells, but nothing happened, and the night was deaf to his words. The woman clenched her fists in attempts to calm down her nerves. She was right, she had to be right, all she had to do is watch her son discover his true self...She shrank down a little bit as the demon approached and the earth trembled beneath him.
She looked at the lean figure of her son and prayed to be right.
And then the rain stopped.
Frigga forgot how to breath when she felt temperature drop.
No, she didn't only feel it- she saw it- as the frost slowly crawled its way trough the land, freezing over the pools of water and hardening the mud into a stone. She noticed in a moment a vapor from her breath crystallizing in the air, and sparkles of rime forming on the tips of her eyelashes.
She smiled to herself for she had indeed been right.
And then the clouds parted.
It was an eye of a hurricane, a mighty whirl of air braking the thunderstorm apart and revealing the bottomless sky besprent with myriads of stars, and the Northern Lights dispelling away the darkness.
The temperature dropped further and Frigga shivered again, goosebumps covered her skin and her breath started falling to the ground in tiny snowflakes. She bended down to reach for the fire, the only source of warmth around her that Loki had provided.
The demon advanced, but the movements grew slower and slower as the fire thickened and gave in to the cold. When he came close and lifted a claw to strike, Loki snapped his fingers and the giant figure exploded, falling down to Loki's feet as a pile of frozen dirt.
He turned to his mother and the woman gasped, taken aback by the power emanating from him, by his royal calmness and ethereal beauty, for he was magnificent.
“You knew, didn't you?That's why my skin kept changing- because I can transform in any kin I lay my hand upon. That's why magic had always lured me. I am the last of Nifleheim kin, the secret weapon Laufey was bragging about, ain't I?”
Frigga stepped out of the fire circle that died behind her and approached her son. “Not last, my son- the first of a new kin.”
She hugged him tight, resting her head on his chest. “Come home with me, son.”
“I can't.”
Frigga's eyes jerked up, “Loki?”
The man placed a kiss on her forehead.
“I have to know the truth about myself.” Loki lowered his gaze, “And I have to make amends. Please, mother, promise me you won't tell anyone of today. No one.”
Frigga shook her head, “But Loki, your brother..”
“Please, I beg you. I've wronged too many innocents, I have to pay for what I've done, until then...I'm not worthy.”
Frigga barely muffled a shriek, “What do you mean you are not worthy?! You've just saved the realm! You've just stopped an army, all by yourself! How can you say such nonsense?”
Loki put a hand on her shoulder, “Promise me. No one will know of this, not one living soul. Until I return, until I forgive myself...I shall remain dead. Do you promise me, mother?”
Frigga's eyes brimmed with tears, “I promise. But you have to promise me too, my son, that you will return to me as soon as you're ready. Swear to me that you'll be back into my arms."
"I swear."
With thay Loki smiled at her and disappeared.
*****
Epilogue.
Frigga strolled across the plain aiming each step carefully to avoid disturbing the dead, and mused on everything that transpired before her eyes .
She always doubted Loki was a frost giant. The Jotunns were completely striped of any grace; they couldn't learn the fluidity of movements even if their life depended on it for that their bodies were unfit for it, huge and bulky as if carved from the ice with a blunt axe.
And her son...Loki was anything but clunky.
His movements resembled those of felines, as he pounced and danced around people right from the moment he made his first step.
Frigga wondered if he was a half-breed then, a spawn of union of a frost giant and someone from more...esthetically pleasing race, like Vanir, Elf or Aesir...
May be a child of Odin and some Jotunn captive her husband got in one of the battles.
But Loki bared no traits of giants, he hated cold, was afraid of the dark and despised any images of his alleged home world.
Plus he was completely unaffected by Jotunn medicine, and that was something Frigga prouded herself in- it was her sacred duty to know those potions so she could tend to her husband, a quarter-Jotunn himself.
Her son was a changeling, that was a given- but what if All father was wrong and it was not a trait inherited by blood, but instead a acquired habit, a skill used to protect himself from enemies by blending into them?
Now Frigga knew her husband was wrong- Loki was not a giant, he was a much more beautiful and powerful creature.
Odin was right in another thing though- Loki indeed helped to secure the peace between the Asgard and the other worlds of the Tree for no one in all nine realms was crazy enough to attack the Land Eternal again when it had Undead King who could single handedly defeat an invasion army.
One thing remained a mystery however - how did Laufey get his hands on Loki, where did he find a child of a lost folk, from what unknown ends of the earth had he brought the baby to his frosty palace?
Speaking of mysteries- Frigga eyed a dagger that was sticking out of the elven prince's chest, and then pulled it out not bothering to conceal disgust.
It was a piece of finest work, definitely touched by blacksmith masters of the palace, with royal insignia on the handle.
It was Loki's.
Frigga frowned.
She was certain her son didn't have it with him when they've met. And she was sure he didn't throw it at the elf.
Then a realization formed in her mind.
“Reveal yourself!”, Frigga called out, “ I know you are here, so I order you, show yourself, whoever you are!”
“I'm here, my Queen,” a quiet voice sounded from behind the walls of the outpost and the woman smiled as a familiar form limped into the sight.
“Lady Sif?”
The maiden was shivering from head to toe, lips blue from cold and teeth chattering, cheeks frostbitten red as apples in the fall. She was leaning on the crutch and Frigga frowned, noticing her right leg, tightened up with bandages and bleeding slightly.
“So, it was you who threw the dagger?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Sif's face darkened as the leg was obviously bothering her, but the warrior straightened up to show off her posture.
“But it is my son's weapon, isn't it?”
Frigga watched with great amusement as Sif blushed bright red and lowered her eyes.
“Yes, milady. I might have ...borrowed it during one of the trainings and well...I grew so fond of it I couldn't bring myself to give it back to Loki...until today.”
“Well, my dear, your timing was perfect. I thank you for saving my son.”
Sif saluted her Queen and bowed, “Your Majesty.”
“Though I still wonder what exactly are you doing here?”
Sif gazed at Frigga and lowered her eyes again, this time filled with guilt.
“I beg forgiveness, milady. I went after you the moment I learned you left the palace, but all horses were needed for evacuation and I...I couldn't run as fast as before with my leg broken.”
“I see.” Frigga decided not to torture the maiden anymore, and smoothly changed the subject.
“I think it is time for us to go back.”
“As you wish.”
And so they walked together towards the palace until Sif broke the silence.
“My Queen, what would be your orders concerning your son?”
Frigga's head jerked up as she was ripped out of her contemplations, “What?”
Sif eyed her warily, “Should I order a feast or a festival to celebrate his victory?”
Frigga blinked at the maiden and suddenly burst into tears.
Sif dropped her crutch and grabbed Frigga's arms in clumsy offer of consolation.
“My Queen, my lady, what's wrong?”
“I can't...” older woman's sobs made it hard to understand her stuttered speech, but Sif was used to decoding drunken language of her friends, so she made sense out of every word.
“I can't, we can't..I gave him my word, I promised Loki I will keep it a secret...I can't tell anyone that he is a hero, that he is a protector of the realm, that he just saved us all...I can't even tell Thor his dear brother is alive!”
She continued to weep until Sif's hand forced her to look up,
“There is no need for tears, my Queen,” and Frigga stopped for a second , trying to protest.
“You swore secrecy to Loki, I understand, but you forget," Sif grinned at Frigga mischievously,
" I didn't promise him anything.”
Author: MissisJoker
Pairing: n/a
Rating :PG
Warnings: a bit of gore but nothing too explicit
Disclaimer: own nothing to my great despair.
Loki managed to slow down the onslaught but his efforts of attacking back resulted in nothing, and the whole fight came to a standstill. He was panting hard, his lungs were on fire from the lack of oxygen, and eyes were burning from sweat that rolled down his face in constant streams.
He swirled and threw his sword forward, blocking elf's spear inches from his neck and swung his torso backwards to avoid the blow that came immediately after.
It took the elves a while to find a real Loki among his magic incarnations, but once they did, they disregarded his magic clones and concentrated the attack on him. As that happened, the hail of strikes and punches blurred the world around Loki into one massive glistening of metal, and now he was surrounded by the enemy, like a pray, stalked into a circle of death.
They were good, too good for Loki's taste, their motions precise and articulated, and all set to kill, and he was only alive because he was better.
It became harder and harder to concentrate and parry the blows through the haze of pain and tiredness, and Loki hissed as a spear slashed across his left thigh. It was just a scratch, but it gave away his growing weakness, for that the elves finally got close enough to gash him.
He was running out of time.
Loki could simply give in, let the elves finish him, welcome the death like a dearest friend for it would finally bring peace to his wounded soul and ruboring mind, but then...
Then the army of Asgard would find his mutilated body amongst the fallen. And they would muse on his brief return from the dead and give him a funeral with soldier honors, so the whole Asgard would gather around the pyre with masks of sorrow on their faces, playing a grieving crowd from those outside the realm.
And later Odin would through a feast to celebrate his foster son's so anticipated and this time certain demise.
No, Loki won't give them such pleasure.
Loki frowned and landed his fist right into the elf's nose, crushing it into a pulp, but the bones rearranged themselves and the ripped skin healed before he could blink twice.
The King of Asgard threw a spell in his enemies, throwing elves off their feet for long enough to gather his thoughts.
He had power left only for one more incantation before his body would give in to exhaustion, and he had to choose wisely.
What would it be?
Everyone always assumed Loki was a creature of the night, an embodiment of deceit that lurked in shadows, waiting for an opportunity to strike. But he never liked darkness, nor he liked cold or ice or water, he was intimidated by them.
Instead, Loki was always fascinated by fire and light, lured by their warmth and beauty, enamored by their ability to disperse blackness with a single sparkle, but people around him were too blind to see that.
An old wizard from Midgard taught him a powerful and dangerous incantation when he was a child. A simple conjuration of fire that could kill everyone in hearing distance including the magi himself once performed right.
Just what he needed.
Loki tried it only once, in much less damaging version, and it worked. That day he burned his hands, Sif lost her luscious hair and Thor was deprived of his first grown beard that he was so proudly showing off to maidens.
Yes, indeed, a very good incantation.
Just get close to the elves, and let it slip from your lips, and you will finally purify yourself...
Loki darted forward, whispering the spell, and closed his fingers around the elven prince's neck, but the spell died on his lips as his hand turned dark and scarred, mirroring his enemy's appearance, just as it did on Jotunheim.
“Impossible!”- Loki's eyes widened in shock, but the same second a heavy blow came down his head and everything went dark.
******
Frigga continued to spin, watching quietly as her son's magical doubles had been stricken down one by one. Each time her heart jerked in fear in her chest, but each time she knew her son was alive, because the rest of the clones were still fighting.
When the last one flickered and disappeared into the night as a whirl of green smoke, Frigga knew her son had been captured.
But the shield on the door stood strong, which meant her youngest was still alive...
Of course, the elves wont miss the opportunity to humiliate their enemies. They would bound him and torture him and put on display in the cage, starved and filthy, like a animal.
Frigga got up from the floor and put away her spindle. The skies turned black with the thick storm clouds and now, with each gust of wind, the heavy banging of rain drops on the roof and walls and windows grew louder and louder.
Whether it was a loss or a victory mattered not to the Queen. She was a mother, and wherever her child's destiny lied she was going to share.
A very strong blast of wind hit the roof and tore away the tile, baring the wooden arch and the thunderstorm above it.
Frigga picked up a small clay plate from the floor and threw it through the opening, watching with relief as the plate flew through the hole meeting no obstacle and landing with a cling somewhere outside.
Her son sealed the doors and windows, but left the top open, for he would never expect a woman of her age to be physically able to climb that far up.
“My silly boy”, Frigga smiled to herself, pounced around couple of times, feeling her legs, then jumped up, swung around in mid air, using wall as a springboard, and with a perfect somersault threw herself through the roof.
*******
Loki knew he was still alive, for that his whole body was screaming in pain.
He called upon oblivion, but a hard slap on the cheek mercilessly pulled him out of half-dreaming state.
He tried to open his eyes and regretted it the very second, as his eyes ached from all the blood streaming down his face.
One of the elven spears hit him in the forehead, and the wound was bleeding profoundly, covering Loki's pale face with a veil of red.
That will definitely leave a scar...
He just shut his eyes again.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty, you're not going to die on us now, are you?”
Loki ignored the insulting tone and instead proceeded to estimate his condition.
His right arm was broken, and several ribs were definitely cracked as each breath sent a jolt of agonizing ache through his body.
His movements were constricted by heavy metal shackles on his wrists and something that felt like a dog collar on his neck. He tried to turn his head and growled as the movement was met with a sharp sting of metal spikes piercing his sensitive skin.
A necklace of the condemned, as it was known. A string of hardened leather embroidered with dozens of silver fangs to prevent the victim from moving, a symbol of shame and submission to the victor.
Loki flickered his fingers and barely suppressed a smile as a spark of magic burned his fingertips slightly.
So, his capturers strapped him of dignity and ability to move, but left his greatest weapon- magic- intact?
Perhaps his last star performance assured them that he was completely drained of energy...
Over self-confident, aren't we?
He allowed the sides of his chopped lips to curve into undetectable smirk.
********
The elven prince dragged the Aesir up by the hair, trying to bring the other back to consciousness, but as his grip on the raven locks got tighter, the prince's eyes remained closed.
The dark-haired man opened his mouth and licked away the moisture from his lips as the rain started to fall on the plain.
Then he spoke, voice coarse like a sand on the rocks.
“You're no longer invincible.”
The elf looked around and snorted,
“Let it rain. Let it snow and hail and shower, that won't change anything. You're finished, and I,” he paused to smile, “have an army.”
Suddenly the pair of ice-blue eyes pierced him and the elf shivered, as Loki's mouth twisted into evil simper.
“What army?”
Elf jolted away from the Trickster and froze, horrified, as two dozen of heads hit the ground in unison and the elven bodies followed, mowed down by Loki's newly conjured doubles .
The twenty clones of Loki leered concordantly and dissipated, as their master fainted from the strain the spell had put on him.
The elven prince wailed in anger and horror and swung his sword to finish the offender but stopped in mid-movement as a dagger came flying from afar and hit him straight to the chest. His heart stopped in instant and he fell slain towards his dead comrades.
*****
Loki dreamed of the past; of the days brightened with sunshine and laughter and joy, of wast flower fields of Asgard where he played with his brother when they were small, of quiet evenings in the royal bed chambers, of the firewood crackle in the chimney, and of mother's welcoming arms.
He remembered how she would catch him running through the doors, and swirl him around and kiss his cheeks until they were burning red, ignoring his undignified protests...It was the best time of his life.
But it was all a lie.
Loki swallowed a limp in his scorched throat. A keen mind was his gift and misfortune, and he often wondered how easier would it have been if he could just throw a tantrum, like Thor, and forget the insult the next morning.
But he could not.
He kept playing all the bad moments of his life over and over again, seeing it how he should have seen if he knew the truth. The insults, the favoritism, the unfairness...it all condensed into a poison that slowly ate away his heart.
The man drew in the air through his clenched teeth and prayed for the delirium to overcome him. He was going to die, but he wanted only to remember those sunny days of his childhood, before the war, before the betrayal, so he could at least die happy...
His body screamed in protest as two arms helped him from the ground and wrapped around him, cradling him in warmth. He tried to pull free, but the grasp tightened, as if the person holding him was afraid of letting go.
Loki winced and sluggishly tried to fight off the attack, wriggling his way out of the hold, but embrace only stiffened, followed by the gentle fingers brushing the hair off his forehead, and soft lips planting disorderly kisses all over his face.
It was wrong, it was intolerable, his poisoned brain kept whispering him, but it felt so damn good that Loki just let himself enjoy it for a moment, lingering into the embrace.
“Oh, child, don't you worry, I've got you, I've got you now...”
That voice.... So familiar and dear, calling his name over and over again...
“Loki. Please, Loki, my dear, open your eyes...”
Loki's mind refused to listen, but his eyelids obeyed without hesitation and when his sight focused, he saw Frigga holding his head on her thighs and rocking him slightly as if he was a newborn.
Her eyes were rimmed with red from crying and hair...her golden locks were gone, and the short uneven spikes were plastered on her weary face.
“Your hair...”
Frigga gaped and rejoiced as her child had spoken to her, and smile immediately brightened up her face, making her look young and beautiful again.
“Loki, thanks Norns...”
“What happened?” Loki demanded and looked up to the skies that were still pouring down the haze of rain, and everything suddenly got into the place.
“You've cut it?”
Loki looked at the woman incredulously, “you've cut it...for me?”
His voice trembled and broke into whisper muffled by the gust of wind.
Frigga sighed ,
“Oh, my baby, ” and looked straight into the bottomless blues staring at her, “I will die for you, if need be.”
Loki shook his head, trying to weird dream, this hallucination that's been torturing him for that it couldn't be true, no way in Hel could it be true...
“What?”
Frigga tugged him closer, “Why do you even have to ask? You are my child, and I...”
Loki shrank back and pushed away from the woman, angry at her and at himself for his weakness.
“But I am not your son!”
He stumbled to his feet, grateful that elven shackles and collar were broken and gone, forgotten somewhere in the dirt. His body was on fire, every nerve screaming in pain, his ankles threating to buckle under his weight.
But anger boiled through his veins and he stood up, proud and accusing, glaring at Frigga with his piercing gaze.
“You were never my mother!”
“Loki, I love you, I have always loved you and always will...”
“Enough already! You lied to me all my life, at least stop lying now!”
A shadow of pain flashed across Frigga's face and Loki instantly felt ashamed for causing it, but his blood kept boiling and he was too tired to stop anger from spilling.
“You never saw me as a son, did you? What was I for you? A breathing toy? An exotic puppy? A living trophy that you could play with? “
He paused to catch his breath,
“Why are you here, milady? Oh, I bet there is a purpose! Let me guess, your dear husband had found a new use for me, and send you to convince me...Isn't it so, isn't it? “
He shouted at his Queen and his heart bled as tears started pouring down her face.
“ I beg you, bethink yourself...”
“You think your petty tears would change my mind? You think you can simply hug me and make me forget years of your false play? Do you really think...”
He didn't get a chance to finish as a blinding lightning slashed across the skies and the wind hardened, almost throwing him off his feet.
He looked back at his mother and shied away as she looked thunderous, brows frowned, lips pursed into thin line.
A childish fear sprang inside him at this magnificent sight. He opened his mouth to spit another insult, but shut it close as Frigga's low voice sounded through the night.
“Enough. I will not be listening to this nonsense. I made a mistake of concealing your heritage earlier, and for that I beg your forgiveness. But don't you dare to doubt me in my love for you.”
She took a few steps forward, just to be close enough to him, and looked into Loki's eyes as he didn't dare to move.
“I did not give birth to you, Loki, but you are my child and always will be. I watched you grow, I saw your first step, I heard your first word...I am your mother and I love you above all, and I will love you as long as my heart beats.”
Loki shuddered as all his mental barriers came crushing down at her words, and he praised the skies for the rain that hid away his treacherous tears. His words came out like nothing but a whisper, “Please, leave me alone...”
Frigga came even closer, so their bodies were almost touching.
“You want me to leave? You want me to seize loving you? Well, then you'll have to kill me, my dear, for only death can tear you away from my heart.”
Loki froze for a second, and then gave in, opening his arms as Frigga stepped into his embrace.
A single word felt from his lips before he broke down to quiet sobs in the Queen's arms,
“Mother...”
And there they stood, and Loki whispered “I'm sorry, so sorry...”, while his mother fondled his hair, letting his sorrows flood away through his tears.
*********
When the trickster calmed down, he felt an elegant hand press on his heart, and pushed aside to look at his mother inquiringly.
The woman just smiled softly and cupped his cheek,
“You're hurt, my son, let me help you.”
And as she spoke, tiny flows of golden energy spilled from her fingers and slither into his body, filling every part of him with warmth and love and light, making him glow from the inside.
Loki gasped in surprise as he felt his bones grow together and his wounds heal, living no scars, no marks, not even smallest of scratches, and the energy streamed through him, rejuvenating and reviving.
“I didn't know you could heal...”
His mother smiled at him, tracing his jaw with delicate fingers.
“Every Aesir woman can heal...those, whom she loves most.”
Loki's heart skipped a beat, as he smiled shyly, blush crawling its way to his pale face. He lowered his eyes, then asked, “Mother...I...My skin, it turned dark when I touched the elf, I don't understand...”
“Oh,” Frigga looked perplexed, then a thought swept over her face.
“We might have been wrong, all of us.”
She put her arms on Loki's shoulders and moved closer, as if she was sharing a secret.
“When Odin burst into the temple, he was looking for the secret weapon Laufey threatened to use against Aesir...He thought he seized it when he found the Casket, but he might have been wrong...”
Loki glanced at his mother, obviously confused, “What are you saying?”
“Well, I heard a legend once...”
Her tale was stopped by a screeching sound that came from under the pile of bodies. Loki swirled around, preparing to fight, and to his horror saw the source of it.
It was a small golden locket that the fallen elven prince had around his neck. The trinket suddenly sprang alive, the tiny links of the chain separated for a moment, flowing down the dead body, dragging the locket along with them, and then they reattached, and darted back from Loki's sight, worming their way through the mud like a thin golden snake.
It took Loki a split of a second to recognize the magic behind it and he rushed after it, desperately trying to catch up and destroy the cursed object before it was too late, but he failed.
A locket burst into sparkles and cracked wide open, and a whirlwind of fire spurt into the sky, as Loki backed away from it, terrified.
He flew back to his mother as fast as he could.
He didn't have to look at it to know that in several seconds the flame would shape itself into a giant sizzling figure with horns and wings and claws that would spring forward and destroy every living being on its way.
He read of them in the ancient scrolls, the living flame of the doomed, the demon of Muspellheim.
He came across the tale from distant past when he was hiding from Thor in the dungeons.
A legend spoke of unimaginable evil born in the lands of eternal fire and the race of warriors from the land of infinite cold that helped Aesir defeat the demons and lock them away in their realm of damnation.
But those warriors were long gone, disappeared into the mist without a trace, leaving no words of wisdom or spells that they used against Muspellheim monsters.
And now one of those monsters was hungrily tracing Loki's retreating back.
Loki grasped his horror stricken mother and shook her back to her senses,
“Mother, you have to go, NOW!”
Frigga looked at him and shook her head, perfectly calm,
“I'm not leaving.”
Loki growled in frustration, there wasn't any time for arguing, “Leave, now! I won't be able to hold it for long!”
“You want me to run away and leave you for dead?”
“Mother, enough! I can't destroy it, I can only distract it so you can escape...”
A hand cupped Loki's cheek as Frigga smiled at him reassuringly, a confidence shining bright in her eyes.
“Oh yes you do, you just don't know it yet.”
Loki stared back at her in shock. “Mother, have you...gone mad?!”
Frigga tsked, “Don't get saucy with me.”
She wiggled a finger at him and smiled again, “Now go and kill that monster. I have faith in you.”
For a change Loki was at loss of words. He just blinked several times, then turned away to face the demon.
The narration he read spoke of a sorcerer, the greatest among the warriors, the prince of their race, who used his magic to call upon the great chill, the winds of Nifleheim as the author called it, a whirl of frost and cold so powerful that it swept away the blistering heat and turned the demons to ashes.
So that's what he has to do. That's the only way to stop the demon, to freeze him over, but how?
If he only had a Casket of ancient winters with him...But the relic was gone.
Loki sighed and started to concentrate.
********
Frigga stood behind her son in silence, waiting for him to find his real power hidden deep inside his soul.
She had her suspicions before, but she had never gotten a chance to prove herself right...until now.
Frigga shivered as cold crept its way through her clothes. Her son looked back at her and twitched his fingers, sending a stream of fire down to earth to encircle her, keeping her protected and warm.
Then he looked to the skies, muttering spells, but nothing happened, and the night was deaf to his words. The woman clenched her fists in attempts to calm down her nerves. She was right, she had to be right, all she had to do is watch her son discover his true self...She shrank down a little bit as the demon approached and the earth trembled beneath him.
She looked at the lean figure of her son and prayed to be right.
And then the rain stopped.
Frigga forgot how to breath when she felt temperature drop.
No, she didn't only feel it- she saw it- as the frost slowly crawled its way trough the land, freezing over the pools of water and hardening the mud into a stone. She noticed in a moment a vapor from her breath crystallizing in the air, and sparkles of rime forming on the tips of her eyelashes.
She smiled to herself for she had indeed been right.
And then the clouds parted.
It was an eye of a hurricane, a mighty whirl of air braking the thunderstorm apart and revealing the bottomless sky besprent with myriads of stars, and the Northern Lights dispelling away the darkness.
The temperature dropped further and Frigga shivered again, goosebumps covered her skin and her breath started falling to the ground in tiny snowflakes. She bended down to reach for the fire, the only source of warmth around her that Loki had provided.
The demon advanced, but the movements grew slower and slower as the fire thickened and gave in to the cold. When he came close and lifted a claw to strike, Loki snapped his fingers and the giant figure exploded, falling down to Loki's feet as a pile of frozen dirt.
He turned to his mother and the woman gasped, taken aback by the power emanating from him, by his royal calmness and ethereal beauty, for he was magnificent.
“You knew, didn't you?That's why my skin kept changing- because I can transform in any kin I lay my hand upon. That's why magic had always lured me. I am the last of Nifleheim kin, the secret weapon Laufey was bragging about, ain't I?”
Frigga stepped out of the fire circle that died behind her and approached her son. “Not last, my son- the first of a new kin.”
She hugged him tight, resting her head on his chest. “Come home with me, son.”
“I can't.”
Frigga's eyes jerked up, “Loki?”
The man placed a kiss on her forehead.
“I have to know the truth about myself.” Loki lowered his gaze, “And I have to make amends. Please, mother, promise me you won't tell anyone of today. No one.”
Frigga shook her head, “But Loki, your brother..”
“Please, I beg you. I've wronged too many innocents, I have to pay for what I've done, until then...I'm not worthy.”
Frigga barely muffled a shriek, “What do you mean you are not worthy?! You've just saved the realm! You've just stopped an army, all by yourself! How can you say such nonsense?”
Loki put a hand on her shoulder, “Promise me. No one will know of this, not one living soul. Until I return, until I forgive myself...I shall remain dead. Do you promise me, mother?”
Frigga's eyes brimmed with tears, “I promise. But you have to promise me too, my son, that you will return to me as soon as you're ready. Swear to me that you'll be back into my arms."
"I swear."
With thay Loki smiled at her and disappeared.
*****
Epilogue.
Frigga strolled across the plain aiming each step carefully to avoid disturbing the dead, and mused on everything that transpired before her eyes .
She always doubted Loki was a frost giant. The Jotunns were completely striped of any grace; they couldn't learn the fluidity of movements even if their life depended on it for that their bodies were unfit for it, huge and bulky as if carved from the ice with a blunt axe.
And her son...Loki was anything but clunky.
His movements resembled those of felines, as he pounced and danced around people right from the moment he made his first step.
Frigga wondered if he was a half-breed then, a spawn of union of a frost giant and someone from more...esthetically pleasing race, like Vanir, Elf or Aesir...
May be a child of Odin and some Jotunn captive her husband got in one of the battles.
But Loki bared no traits of giants, he hated cold, was afraid of the dark and despised any images of his alleged home world.
Plus he was completely unaffected by Jotunn medicine, and that was something Frigga prouded herself in- it was her sacred duty to know those potions so she could tend to her husband, a quarter-Jotunn himself.
Her son was a changeling, that was a given- but what if All father was wrong and it was not a trait inherited by blood, but instead a acquired habit, a skill used to protect himself from enemies by blending into them?
Now Frigga knew her husband was wrong- Loki was not a giant, he was a much more beautiful and powerful creature.
Odin was right in another thing though- Loki indeed helped to secure the peace between the Asgard and the other worlds of the Tree for no one in all nine realms was crazy enough to attack the Land Eternal again when it had Undead King who could single handedly defeat an invasion army.
One thing remained a mystery however - how did Laufey get his hands on Loki, where did he find a child of a lost folk, from what unknown ends of the earth had he brought the baby to his frosty palace?
Speaking of mysteries- Frigga eyed a dagger that was sticking out of the elven prince's chest, and then pulled it out not bothering to conceal disgust.
It was a piece of finest work, definitely touched by blacksmith masters of the palace, with royal insignia on the handle.
It was Loki's.
Frigga frowned.
She was certain her son didn't have it with him when they've met. And she was sure he didn't throw it at the elf.
Then a realization formed in her mind.
“Reveal yourself!”, Frigga called out, “ I know you are here, so I order you, show yourself, whoever you are!”
“I'm here, my Queen,” a quiet voice sounded from behind the walls of the outpost and the woman smiled as a familiar form limped into the sight.
“Lady Sif?”
The maiden was shivering from head to toe, lips blue from cold and teeth chattering, cheeks frostbitten red as apples in the fall. She was leaning on the crutch and Frigga frowned, noticing her right leg, tightened up with bandages and bleeding slightly.
“So, it was you who threw the dagger?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Sif's face darkened as the leg was obviously bothering her, but the warrior straightened up to show off her posture.
“But it is my son's weapon, isn't it?”
Frigga watched with great amusement as Sif blushed bright red and lowered her eyes.
“Yes, milady. I might have ...borrowed it during one of the trainings and well...I grew so fond of it I couldn't bring myself to give it back to Loki...until today.”
“Well, my dear, your timing was perfect. I thank you for saving my son.”
Sif saluted her Queen and bowed, “Your Majesty.”
“Though I still wonder what exactly are you doing here?”
Sif gazed at Frigga and lowered her eyes again, this time filled with guilt.
“I beg forgiveness, milady. I went after you the moment I learned you left the palace, but all horses were needed for evacuation and I...I couldn't run as fast as before with my leg broken.”
“I see.” Frigga decided not to torture the maiden anymore, and smoothly changed the subject.
“I think it is time for us to go back.”
“As you wish.”
And so they walked together towards the palace until Sif broke the silence.
“My Queen, what would be your orders concerning your son?”
Frigga's head jerked up as she was ripped out of her contemplations, “What?”
Sif eyed her warily, “Should I order a feast or a festival to celebrate his victory?”
Frigga blinked at the maiden and suddenly burst into tears.
Sif dropped her crutch and grabbed Frigga's arms in clumsy offer of consolation.
“My Queen, my lady, what's wrong?”
“I can't...” older woman's sobs made it hard to understand her stuttered speech, but Sif was used to decoding drunken language of her friends, so she made sense out of every word.
“I can't, we can't..I gave him my word, I promised Loki I will keep it a secret...I can't tell anyone that he is a hero, that he is a protector of the realm, that he just saved us all...I can't even tell Thor his dear brother is alive!”
She continued to weep until Sif's hand forced her to look up,
“There is no need for tears, my Queen,” and Frigga stopped for a second , trying to protest.
“You swore secrecy to Loki, I understand, but you forget," Sif grinned at Frigga mischievously,
" I didn't promise him anything.”