For the Love of a Queen

Chapter 13

Loki fights, few men beside him. Too few. They will lose. Most of the guard has turned against him and he knows this fight in the great hall at the feet of the throne of Asgard will end with his death. But he cannot surrender. It would only lead to imprisonment, for he knows Thor cannot kill him.

The army lets Thor through as Loki fights off his own guard, weakened by the constant onslaught. He watches his men fall, one by one, and wonders what they are dying for- certainly not him. Perhaps for an idea, a king in title, but not this king. He sees Thor begin to twirl Mjolner at a distance. He means to make this strike clean.

Sigyn has found a perch in a balcony. She watches, horrified and sad. And then she sees something from the corner of her eye and turns her attention away. Three hooded figures, one hunched, one straight, and one in between, creating something between them. A spell. Energy she has only seen created in practice, always carefully dismissed. It crackles and weaves within their hands, a black web that seems to suck light in, rather than give it off. And then it shoots from their cluster and strikes Loki in the chest just as Mjolner flies. He is wrapped in its black tendrils a moment as he falls to the ground, Mjolner missing his skull by inches. He gasps, stares at his chest, and collapses sideways, his face pressed to the floor, hands trying desperately to push his torso up as he struggles to breathe.

The room falls silent as Mjolnir slaps back into Thor's hand. The three hooded figures disappear. Sigyn drops from the balcony and slows herself to land on her feet. She runs to Loki, shoving soldiers out of her way, even pushing by Thor himself as he approaches.

"Stand back!" Thor commands, "You do not know if he is dangerous. Loki wounded is more frightening than Loki in control."

She ignores him and drops to her knees beside her lover, "Please, say something."

"I...I know this...this magic."

"As do I. Come. Rest in my arms."

"No. It will only work faster if...if...if I move."

"And would you rather die, face pressed to stone, or held in your beloved's arms, even if you have a little less time?" she asks, her voice soft.

He crawls, pulling his chest onto her lap. He wraps his arms around her and she strokes his hair, his strength leaving.

"Please...forgive. Me. Forgive me."

"If you know this spell, do not make those your last words. Fight this."

His mouth open, he twists to gaze up at her, "Afraid. Ice. And pain."

"I know. But you can do this. And I still love you." She bites her lip and then bends to kiss his forehead. He tries to smile, but it is difficult. He clutches at her, his grip weak, desperation setting in, his breaths shuddering gasps. She bends and rests her cheek against his and feels his body still.

Thor drops Mjolner behind her, the clang echoing off the high ceilings as he falls to his knees, "Is...is it over?"

"Yes."

"Is he gone?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Do you know the spell, Thor, son of Odin?"

"No."

"I do. He is dead. He has left his body. But the magic will kill it far more slowly as he decides if he is willing to do the work to rebuild it."

"I do not understand."

"The spell is a crucible. A test. No one can undertake it and not be changed by it. And only a rare few come through."

"But you said he is dead."

"He is. It separates body and soul, tearing them apart so completely that he exists elsewhere, unable to see us, hear us...none of it- he is, for all purposes, dead. But to exist without one's body is terrifying and to return to it means feeling everything that has been destroyed by this spell. It is eating him from inside out. Destroying tissue, drying blood. It takes weeks to do even the slightest visible damage. And he must choose. Will he let go and release himself to whatever comes after death, or will he return and have to use his own skills to rebuild his body, fighting the effects of the spell until healing is complete, any weakness in his resolve an allowance for it to redamage what he has fixed? It is gruelling. It is horrible. And it is was sent to him intentionally."

Thor shakes his head, horrified, "No. We cannot leave him to this agony."

"He can choose to be released from it at any time. Otherwise, the work."

"No. Can we grant him mercy?" Thor's voice cracks.

"No. It will protect what it has claimed." There are tears in her eyes, "Do not think I would have chosen this. Do not think this is my doing, or I planned it. It is one of the most terrifying bits of magic I have ever seen assembled and I have never before seen it cast. And to see it used against someone I dearly love..."

"I, too."

"I know." She strokes Loki's cheek, "His face looks so peaceful. So much at rest."

"I hope he chooses death. For his sake." Tears stream down Thor's cheeks, "I have mourned him twice. My heart cannot take a third."

"Nor mine. I feel...numb."

"Is that how you seem so calm?"

"Yes."

"Will you tell me what choice he makes?"

She nods, "In my way, yes."

He nods, "Thank you, Queen Sigyn. How shall we bear the dead away?"

"Very carefully. Do not jostle him about. It will only make his work more difficult. And bring him to my circle."

And then there are hands to take Loki from her and for a moment she clutches him even more tightly against her, heart broken that he is gone again so soon. Thor dismisses the others. He picks up Loki himself. Sigyn rises.

He calls, "I will reclaim the throne when I return and we may celebrate this new era. But first, I must carry my brother to his funeral bed in the house of Queen Sigyn. There he will undergo the rituals of her people." Thor carries him, with Sigyn beside, all the way to her enclave on foot. There is an alter built near the fire, a bed with a canopy and fine silk curtains around it. She directs him to set his brother down. Thor does, but not without reluctance and tears. He kisses Loki's forehead, reminds him that he always has and always will love him, and returns to the palace alone, heartbroken. Sigyn sits on the edge of the fire and watches the old women prepare his body for however long the waiting takes.