The Origin of Fear

Chapter 20

The entire camp and all in it stilled for a moment, the only sound breaking the silence the fierce crackling of the Emperor’s once-grand tent. Fera looked behind her. Thor and Sif were exchanging an incredulous, shocked glance, and Hogunn and Fandral were gazing at Fera with widened eyes, their expressions aghast albeit slightly impressed. Volstagg was no longer conscious. 

Fera spared a glance beside her to Loki, who returned it with an icy, exasperated glare that spoke volumes. “Idiot,” he mouthed. He stepped nearer to her, though whether it was for her benefit or his—his discomfort with the fire raging behind him was etched clearly on his features—she wasn’t sure. She gave him an indignant shrug and a cursory glance. 

What else would you have me do? She thought. 

Loki seemed to understand; he rolled his eyes at her.

Meanwhile, the Orcish horde in front of them began to speak, harsh whispers flying between the throngs. Fera swallowed thickly; this was the second of their Emperors that she had killed, and this time, she murdered all thirteen of their kings as well. Now she stood in front of the barbarian army that had been instructed to kill her, and were about to follow her across the universe to exact their vengeance. She began to wonder if she had truly ended the war, or only made the enemy temporarily leaderless. 

“Thor, perhaps now would be the time to make our daring escape?” Fandral suggested in a low undertone. 

“They will follow us,” Sif replied. There was an air of hostility in her voice, and Fera briefly wondered if it was directed at her. However, she didn’t care; she was busy taking a headcount of the forces staring back at them—by her rough estimate, there were about ten thousand soldiers before her, murmuring as they regarded her with dark expressions painted across their shadowy features. Gradually, their whispers grew louder, until Fera could hear several unabashed cries far from the front of the throng. 

“An Elf,” she heard one say, shock and confusion in his voice. 

“A woman,” another added. A chorus of loud, angry hisses filled the air, and Fera’s mouth went dry. There was nowhere for them to escape to, and even if there was, the Orcs would follow. She shot a sideways glance to Loki, who regarded the colossal mob before them with a hardened jaw and tight eyes. He was going to die, Fera realized, her heart dropping to her stomach. Regardless of any of the Asgardian’s proficiency in battle, ten thousand Orcish soldiers swarming them at once would lead to all of their deaths. But Loki would not leave without her, regardless of how foolish it was for him to stay. 

With a sinking heart, Fera set her mouth in a thin line and turned from the edge of the stone dais, striding toward Thor. 

“Thor, you need to go,” she said, resignation in her voice. 

He looked at her and blinked, then sad realization dawned on his features.

“My brother won’t leave without you,” he whispered. Inwardly, Fera felt relief washing through her that Thor didn’t argue the inevitable. He was smart—he knew what was coming. The Thursar needed her dead; she was the cause of their war, and she just sent their entire government into the sky in a fiery blaze. They would chase her until the ends of the universe for their vengeance, she was sure of it.

Fera nodded. “I know,” she looked to Loki, who returned to her a puzzled expression.“I’ll take care of it,” 

“Fera,” Thor said lowly. She looked at him, and he looked just below her gaze. “I am truly sorry,” 

“So am I,” she replied. Thor glanced toward the sky in a silent conversation with Heimdall, and Fandral, Hogunn, and Sif retreated to his side. Hesitantly, dreading what she had to do, Fera returned to Loki,  who narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.