Warnings: injury, threat, misogyny
"If I didn't know better, Cindy, I'd think that you didn't want to kill her," Brynjar scoffed, grabbing your jaw and examining your face. You snarled your teeth at him, even going so far as to try and bite the finger that got too close to your lips, but it did no good. His fingers dug so hard into your skin that you were sure that (assuming you survived this) there would be dark marks tomorrow.
"You'd have me take her life now?"
Brynjar roughly tilted your head to the side, examining the faded marks that scattered the length of your neck, then shook his head. "There is no need now, I suppose. The trickster was correct; the people of this pitiful kingdom will accept us far more welcomingly if she is still alive."
"She has a name," you hissed, shoving your hand against his chest to push him away. You hit the wall with a thud and drew your hands over your wound, pressing down despite the pain to try and halt the bleeding.
"And a temper, so it seems," Brynjar smirked, stretching out in Odin's throne. After he and his men had forced entry into the safe room - aided by Cinderella, who had disabled the worst of the protective spells from within - they had backed the royals into a corner with ease. The guards had stood no chance against the surprise attack and were all shot down before they'd had time to draw their swords.
Thor and Odin, the greatest warriors that the realm had seen in an age, had underestimated Brynjar's power. He managed to somehow avoided the worst of Thor's attacks and captured Mjolnir in a chest, certainly stolen from the hoards of the great dwarves. Without his weapon, it still took six of Brynjar's men to hold the prince down. Odin, on the other hand, took only three; once Gungnir had been snatched, the king was defenceless.
Frigga had moved to fight but held back when she realised it would have meant leaving Loki - barely clinging on to consciousness by now - vulnerable. She had a fire in her eyes that raged with the power of fifty men but protecting her son was more important than anything else. The throne was worthless if it meant watching Loki die. So, she stayed by his side and protected him with her own magic to keep up the work of the fallen healer.
The royals were led somewhere else in the castle, you were not told where, to await their execution at dawn next. It would be a public affair, in front of the largest crowd that had ever gathered in the city, for all to see how weak and pathetic their monarchy truly was.
Instead of being put out of your misery, or taken away to await your own execution, Brynjar had kept you in his company. He took joy from watching you suffer, a slow and painful end for the woman that had almost brought his plan to a stop on multiple occasions. In his eyes, it was nothing more than you deserved.
And, of course, instead of leaving you to die in peace, he intended to drag out every second of your suffering.
"Tell me, wench, why do you do this to yourself? You must see that these great men are not worth your blood," Brynjar said, his disgust for the royals evident in his acidic tone. "They put up no fight. Without their fancy weapons and soldiers to protect them, they were powerless to our forces. How can you believe that they will lead our great civilisation into a better time?"
"They are good people. More deserving of the crown that you will ever be."
"Of course, with their legendary valour and honour. True to the ones they love and never swayed by a pretty face. Oh, wait." He looked over to Cinderella, who at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed. "That's right. Both Odin and Loki had their heads turned by my sister. Tell me, wench, how can men so easily led be left in charge as something as important as running a kingdom and protecting their people? You would never believe the secrets they divulged after bedding her."
"Enough, brother," Cinderella sighed. "You see now that I spoke the truth. Nothing will turn Y/N's loyalties."
His boots clanking against the floor, Brynjar strode over to where you stood and admired you with hungry eyes. "A real shame. It would have been a pleasure to have you sit by my feet while I ruled. Such a pretty addition you would have made to the throne room, indeed. Perhaps with fewer marks on your delicate face. Or at least only ones made by me."
At his side, Brynjar's hand had barely twitched before you kneed him in the groin. The swift and sudden reflex sent another debilitating wave of pain through your body but it was more than worth it. "If you so much as think of touching me again, you will regret it."
Brynjar had you pressed against the wall, his dagger at your throat, before the guards responded to his yell and came barrelling in to the safe room. He drew the cold metal edge slowly across your skin with just enough pressure to make you uncertain whether this would be your last breath or not. Still, you held his iron gaze and refused to show weakness, even though you were clearly at a disadvantage.
"I can see why the trickster likes you," Brynjar conceded, returning his dagger to its hold. "I won't kill you today. Take her to the dungeons."
"Brother, surely she should see a healer first?"
"No need. The cells are enchanted to prevent death by such injuries. One of Odin's great ideas to make his prisoners suffer more than they already were. And if she dies... Well. I doubt anyone will mourn the loss." Dismissing both you and Cinderella, Brynjar waves his hand in the air and took his seat in Odin's throne one again. "Take her away."
Despite being too weak to even walk unaided, you were escorted to the dungeon by a troop of six armed men. They threw you haphazardly in to a dingy little cell where the lights were too bright and the air too cold. Curled up in the corner of your cell, you stopped fighting the pain and let it tear through your body in the hope that it may finally just tear you apart and end it all.
You weren't sure how much time had passed when you heard light footsteps coming down the hallway. The voice you heard was familiar but you were too exhausted to lift your head and see who it belonged to. What was the point anyway?
"You're wanted upstairs. There's a group of rowdy townsfolk gathering at the servants' door demanding answers."
The man outside your cell sounded confused. "I was ordered by Brynjar not to leave the wench. There are plenty of others to deal with angry salesmen."
"Well, these are new orders," the familiar voice insisted. You knew you knew that voice but your brain was too foggy to focus on placing it. Sleep was calling and you were becoming more inclined to listen to it.
"Who are you? From which faction do you come?" When no immediate answer came the man's way, he drew his sword on the newcomer. "If you do not answer my questions, I will have no choice but to treat you as the enemy. If that is the case, then I will have to kill you."
There was a loud thud as the guardsman fell to the ground, whacked around the head by the woman - definitely a woman, you decided - who no longer had the patience to deal with his weak threats. "Men," she groaned. "It's all talk with them."
Stepping into your line of sight, your eyes widened. Even disguised under thick layers of clothing, lugging around armour meant for a man twice her size, you'd know her anywhere. There was only one person that could convey such affectionate contempt for you in this way. "Inga?"
"You truly are dreadful at this hero lark, sister," Inga sighed, pulling off her helmet and swinging her hair over her shoulder with a confidence to match the Valkyries of legend. Stabbing her trusty dagger into the small panel that controlled the force field around your cell, Inga jumped up and crossed the small space to where you were slumped.
Pushing the wet hair from your face, Inga pulled you into a tight embrace. She kissed your cheek as she pulled away, shaking her head at the multitude of injuries that you'd managed to accumulate in the day since you'd seen each other last. "You make me wonder why I trust you with anything important."
Groaning as she helped you on to your feet, biting back a scream as her hand fell upon the bleeding wound in your side, you asked, "What are you doing here?"
Inga felt your warm blood on her hand and, ignoring your question completely, perched you back against the wall. She tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic and replaced the sodden one which had you'd used to hastily cover your wound. There were no signs that the bleeding was slowing and you knew, even with your complete lack of medical expertise, that Cinderella had hit something important.
"Saving you, obviously," Inga said, pulling the fabric strip tightly into place. She was no healer but, with three very adventurous and easily injured children, it was the best that you'd be able to find on short notice. Once again lifting you onto your feet, adjusting her hold so the hilt of her sword didn't dig into your side, she explained, "By the time we got to Nevarth, the entire rebel forces had already moved out. We realised what that meant and knew that you and Loki wouldn't be prepared to face an army on both sides."
"You were right."
"I always am. We rode fast and managed to jump a small group that were holding in the rear. Took their weapons and armour then made our way inside. Only we were too late. By the time we'd made it into the palace, news of Brynjar's victory was already spreading through the household. I told you not to trust that bitch."
"Don't forget your dagger," you said, stumbling as you stepped down from the prison cell. You stretched out your arm to pull her blade from the wall but even that small movement put too much of a strain on your side.
Inga leant around you and, with a little bit of a jiggle, pulled the blade free. Holding it in her hand as she helped you hobble through the prison, she said, "You should have listened to me, Y/N. I warned you about Cinderella."
"She saved our lives, Inga."
"Yeah. But then she stabbed you in the back. Literally."
"My abdomen. Not my back."
"Same difference, damn you! You are such a fool, sister. I warned you... Y/N, hey come on," she said, suddenly feeling your weight double in her arms. Inga held you up against a stone pillar and shook your shoulders, beyond relieved when your eyes fluttered open once again. "We can't go on with you hanging off my side like this."
You shook your head, the simple action making you feel even more groggy than you had before. Whilst the dungeons were normally dimly lit and a bit fuzzy (the magic that maintained the force fields around the cells had that effect on people sometimes as it was supposed to keep the prisoners docile), you could barely keep your attention on anything. The small details carved into the stones were completely unreadable and even the more obvious things - like the steps beneath your feet - were just completely out of focus.
Resting your head on Inga's shoulder as she guided you up the stairs, you insisted, "We have to save Loki and the others. I can't leave them..."
"Y/N, I came to the palace to save you. Not the kingdom. I love you, sister, and I cannot let you die."
"I love him, Inga. How is risking my life for him any different than what you are doing now for me?" You missed your footing and smashed your knees on the next step, a terrible crunching sound echoing around the prison quarters as the bones cracked. Still, though, despite the universe trying its best to convince you otherwise, you were determined to carry on and face Brynjar.
Inga disregarded your comparison completely and flung you over her shoulder as she would have done were it Ander, Kol or Sigrid. "I'm sorry, Y/N. You aren't in your right mind. We are going to find a healer. Leave it to the guards and those that are actually trained for this sort of situation."
Your continuous arguments stalled when you caught sight of a familiar face. Hair whiter than you remembered but still no less beautiful. An expression just as kind as before, a wise and mischievous glint in their eyes. A genuine, if slightly concerned smile. You knew that face but before you could place it, she was gone.
Whacking Inga on the back so hard that it made her stumble, you said, "Did you see that? The woman."
"It's a busy palace. There are women everywhere," Inga said, stepping out of the dungeons and into one of the servant corridors. She asked you for directions towards the nearest exit, ready to take your answer with a pinch of salt either way, and sighed at your repeated mention of this mystery woman.
Setting you down, she held you up against the wall by the shoulders and looked you straight in the eyes. It was difficult for you to focus on her face, the room shifting back and forth beneath your feet and your mind distracted by the familiar face you'd seen down in the prison. Inga was calling your name but her frantic words floated completely over your head. You were too focused on the shadow hiding behind the pillar on the corner.
Shrugging Inga off of you, pressing a hand to her chest when she tried to block your way, you stumbled down the hallway. At some point, you fell to the ground but continued dragging yourself forward by the nails on your fingers, driven by a hope so overwhelming that it almost made you forget the pain.
It was probably a hallucination. A result of immense blood loss, a precursor to unconsciousness. That was the logical explanation. And yet... You were so sure that you weren't imaging this. There was no reason for your brain to conjure her image on your death bed. No. She was real. She had to be.
On your broken knees before her, convinced that she was literally glowing with the purest white light that you'd ever seen, you breathed, "You're real?"
"Of course I'm real, dear," she said, crouching down beside you and motioning for Inga to come over. Looking up at your sister, the woman smiled and introduced herself. "I am Altheda."
Inga's eyes widened as she exclaimed, "Like from the stories?"
"That depends on which stories you've heard," Altheda said, resting her hand carefully on your shoulder. A warm, tingling wave spread slowly down your back, all the way down to your toes, before concentrating around your wound. It was as strange a feeling as when Loki used his magic but this was so much more powerful. Just that simple touch was as effective as an entire team of healers.
Altheda met your gaze, silently asking for permission, before lifting up the bottom of your shirt to assess the state of your wound. She pressed her palm over the bloodstained strip of fabric wrapped around your waist by Inga and a bright pink shimmer lit the dark corner of the palace hallway. Altheda then untied the makeshift bandage and smiled to herself.
The bleeding had stopped and the skin around it had begun to stretch to form a cover over the wound. Incredibly, you hadn't felt a thing. Not even a single twinge of pain. Only a general feeling of calm and a wonderful lack of tension throughout your entire body, as if you had just returned from a trip to the relaxing springs in the mountain.
You moved to stand but Altheda held you back, shaking her head. "You may want to take it gently, dear. The magic holding your wound together is fragile. It's only a temporary fix and you will have to listen to your sister sooner or later and get yourself to a healer."
"How do you know each other?" Inga asked, looking between you and the older woman with a mix of complete and utter confusion and awe. "Sister, that's Altheda. The benevolent queen from father's stories. By the norns, I thought... Well, in all honesty, I believed you long passed."
"I confess, there are times when I wish that I had passed also. It has been a long life, for sure. I have long since hoped to return to Alfheim and spend my last years in peace but until peace reigns in Asgard such dreams will remain as such; only dreams."
"As much as I appreciate your kindness, is now really the time for this?" you asked anxiously. You couldn't deny that you were interested in hearing Altheda's stories but, as your strength returned, your desire to go and save Loki also grew. Hiding around in the shadows and discussing the truth of old stories could surely wait.
Inga on the other hand had no such desires and instead pushed, asking again how you knew an Elven queen of old, her intrigue getting the better of her. It wasn't often that Inga indulged her curiosity but clearly this was too much of a mystery to let pass. "Seriously, sister. What circumstances could ever lead to you knowing one another?"
Altheda smiled, patting you on the shoulder as she explained, "I met your sister on the night of the ball. Such a wonderful evening until the attack, of course. In my age I have developed a habit of losing my way. Y/N guided me back and for her kindness I fixed a little problem of hers. Now I intend to help fix another little problem of yours."
"But why? Why would you help us?"
"I suppose you could say it's my duty as her fairy god mother. Come my dears. Y/N is right. We must act now before it is too late."