They had said I looked like death itself walking across the Bifrost. They had said that my face was pale and bloody- my fresh tears clearing a path down my cheeks through the dirt and grime. My cloak had been torn to bits, only half of it remaining in a tattered mess. Even my white tunic and armor which was said to never stain was stained with a deep blue, whether it was Ymir's blood or magic, I was unsure. They said that the two dead bodies in my hands dragged like logs behind me until others had rushed forward and taken them from me. My friends, they had said.
It had been nearly three days after the attack on Jotunheim's Capital, Utgard and a total of seven months away from Asgard. Only three in Jotunheim. Queen Frigga had explained what had happened in the final moments of the Jotunheim Battle. From the little information we had given her, she had concluded that history was repeating itself.
Ymir had exploded- his blood the new seas of Jotunheim, his spine the new mountain ranges, his tears the rain that fell from the clouds and his last breath freezing Jotunheim over. It was unlikely that Utgard had kept its nice complex. A vision from Heimdall told us that Utgard was a lost cause- nearly all of it was frozen over in a thick, unbreakable frost. Or at least that was what I was told. I hadn't been in the right state of mind, I was distant and cold- they said.
Today was the mass funeral for the fallen of our Jotunheim expedition. There was a total of four boats. The first was for the fallen foot soldiers- none of which I bothered to learn the names of. I thought that learning their names would make their deaths more painful to me. I thought that when I slept at nights their names and the others who have died around me would haunt me. I was wrong however, it was not their names that haunted me at night. It was their faces.
"Your dress, dear," Gaela said softly. I turned to her. Since I had been gone, she seemed to have withered with worry and weariness. Gaela did not have the same hopeful spark in her eyes. I supposed there was nothing to be hopeful for, the mission was finished and all that was left were the funerals.
Gaela helped me get into the dress, slipping it on from my feet up. The dress was a dark green, black in some light sources even. It was upon my request, of course, a gentle reminder to Loki and I. The dress reached to my toes and I realized that I had not worn such a dress since the galas and formal feasts during my training. That was nearly seven years ago, now.
"You look beautiful, love," Gaela whispered. I gave her a quick, hollow smile and a matching thank you. Gaela frowned slightly, her once bright blue eyes shimmering as tears formed. "I am so sorry for your losses. They were all good men."
"Yes, they were," I mumbled. Silence greeted us once more. It seemed like Silence and I had been getting along lately. Gaela sighed softly before grabbing and placing the golden set of necklaces around my neck. My makeup was done and my hair had already been plaited into a simple braid with tiny pieces of gold to match my necklace within the braids. It was my little way of defying Asgard once more- displaying my hair as something simple and plain like the lower class and unwealthy people of Asgard. My family had once belonged to that lower class of people. It was my last way of saying goodbye and honoring my family for I was the last of them. I was being given a new start, a fresh slate, a new meaning to my family's name.
"Thank you, Gaela," I said, my voice sounding strained and forced. I did not mean for it to and judging by the look on her face she understood and nodded her head slowly.
"Good luck, Lady Y/N. It has been an honor to serve you," she said, straightening out her shoulders and appearing taller. She was more than just a servant to me, though. She, like Loki, filled a certain emptiness in my heart that no other could quite fill.
I rest my calloused hand on her wrinkled cheek before giving her a respectful, curt nod. I turned on my heel, exiting the room I had called my own during training. I didn't need Gaela to see the pain and sorrow in my eyes any longer than she had to.
The walk down the golden corridor should have felt glorious and honorable- a hallway of pure gold in the palace of the famous gods. Instead, it was anything but. I felt ashamed as I walked down the dulled hallways, holding my chin high as if I had actually won a battle. I was alive when others were not, none of them deserved to die and I would have gladly taken their place in death.
The last remaining elite warriors met at the entrance of the golden palace, each of us wearing a matching grim expression. Prince Thor and Prince Loki were meant to stay in the front- leading their comrades to the burial docks. Instead, Thor's hand had intertwined with Lady Sif's as they advanced forward. Loki fell in beside me, slipping his hands through mine. I took a deep breath, knowing full well that Loki was not holding my hand for his sake, but for my own. I was stronger than this, however, I knew that I could not cry and disgrace the men and woman who died in Jotunheim.
Behind us was Volstagg, leading the rest of the elite warriors who did not come to Jotunheim with us. Tove clenched his bow in his hand, his jaw twitching and his face unreadable. He would fire the arrows that would send our fallen comrades to Valhalla. Amity stood close behind Tove, her lip twitching and her eyes glassy with tears. I turned my head away from them, focusing on whatever was in front of me in fear that I would crumble to pieces if I started to long. Loki, most likely sensing my distress, squeezed my hand tighter.
Even the sky of Asgard, once holding a blazing sun and the most beautiful colors was dull and gloomy.
As we approached the burial docks, The Allfather looked at the group of us in mild confusion. He did not understand why his sons had not followed their given formation. They, much like I did with my hair, chose to defy Asgard's strict traditions. Thor challenged Odin's gaze as they walked, drawing Lady Sif closer to himself. Queen Frigga, despite her husband's actions and the situation we were all in, smirked. Queen Frigga smirked, ever so lightly. And her smirk looked ever so familiar, much like Loki's did. I held my chin a little higher and straightened my shoulders. I would not be so easily broken again.
We lined ourselves up across the dock, dreading the few moments of waiting for the ceremony to begin.
The other three boats were for my dear friends that had been slaughtered in the last few seconds on Jotunheim. The largest boat belonged to our commander- Orgnar Turgot. His burial boat was covered in thin, intricate markings that described his adventures and tales of his life all of the way to his death. Though he had angered me and lost a hefty amount of respect for burning an innocent village, he served Asgard well throughout his life.
The other two boats held the men I had been with side by side throughout training and the mission. I didn't even want to mention their names. I didn't even known one of their names, and the other, well I wished I hadn't known his name. I wished that we had grown even closer- five years was not enough. He was a good soldier and an even better man.
As soon as the Shaman began talking my mind wandered elsewhere. I was unaware of the world around me as I zoned out, letting his words buzz into nothing. I watched as several sobbing mothers brushed their hands against the boats. Ten of them did not have bodies to return home to Asgard. It was the snap of Tove's bowstring and the sudden tense grip on my hand from Loki that drew me hesitantly back into reality.
The boats set on fire, the heat licking out at the men who pushed the boats further into the open water. We watched them drift away, roaring with fire until they fell and the embers floated into the dreary sky. Slowly, people began to disperse, taking their leave from the site with dampened expressions. It was only the mourning mothers and the remaining elite soldiers from the mission left standing on the docks. The rest had left to their comrades who had been with the dead in their final moments alone, letting us silently mourn.
"Would you like to see him?" Loki whispered gently, leaning closer into me. He even brushed his thumb against the back of my hand comfortingly. I would have never imagined such public affection.
"Is he awake?" I asked. Loki shook his head, his expression softening into pity. Pity. It was my least favorite emotion and feeling. I glanced out to the empty lake now, and in the distance I could see the millions of stars and galaxies calling my name. I sighed, my childish thoughts of running away from my problems would no longer flood my thoughts.
"Alright, take me to Asmund," I whispered.
~*~*~*~
Asmund lay on the infirmary bed, the stark white bed sheets making his skin paler than it already was. His skin was coated in a thick sheet of sweat and the right side of his face was bloodied and bruised. They had said his healing would take even longer because he was in a comatose like state. But I suppose I should be kissing my lucky stars that he remained alive.
"Orgnar, Heskell, and the foot soldiers are in Valhalla now," I whispered to Asmund as I drew shapes into his skin my my fingertips. He did not respond, much to my disliking. "When you wake, my guessing is that I will not be here, I am planning to do something terribly foolish," I paused, behind me Loki shifted uncomfortably. "You find that girl, and you tell her everything, alright?" I whispered, patting his hand gently. I stood now, setting his hand to his side and taking one last look at one of my dearest friends.
"Are you ready?" Loki asked sincerely. I nodded and turned on my heel, letting Loki guide me out of the infirmary. Silence greeted us as we walked through the halls, each of our steps nearly silent despite the hard materials that they were made of. I supposed that no matter what, a part of us would be stuck in Jotunheim whether it be fear that too loud of footsteps would cause an ambush or that the nightmares returned with vengeance each night.
"Have you spoken to your father yet?" I whispered to Loki. He looks to the ground, his face a muddled mess of emotion.
"Not yet," he responded.
"Do you think he knows you are a Jotun?" I asked, halting our steps. Loki's eyes snapped to mine, a fire burning in his eyes but not for me. It was for the man he called a father.
"I have no doubt," Loki hissed. I sighed gently, knowing that Loki was angry with Odin.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Why are you not scared of me? Why do you not run for the hills and tell everyone who I am? You have slaughtered my people," Loki hissed suddenly, avoiding my question completely. He had stepped forward, challenging me to move backward but I held steady and calm. "I have slaughtered my people," Loki whispered beneath his breath, his head hanging in a sort of twisted shame.
"I am stronger than common folk in that sense. It is not my secret to tell, it is only mine to keep," I said gently. "And it was war. Everyone slaughtered everyone for ridiculous reasons. That's what war does, it blinds us all," I said, letting my hand rest on his pale cheek. His face held a pained, angry expression and I could hope to comfort him. "You are a Prince of Asgard, an Asgardian man, just because your skin may be blue should not mean that you are any different to me or others."
"I do not deserve you," Loki whispered gently, his deep green eyes softening considerably.
"Well tough luck, you're stuck with me anyways," I said, giving his cheek a light pat. His regular cheeky smirk appeared on his face, followed by a quick kiss to the forehead. We resumed our slow walk, his hands clutched behind his back and his shoulders holding a little higher.
"Are you ready for your naming ceremony tonight?" Loki asked, changing the conversation and shifting the mood. Tonight the elite warriors who traveled to Jotunheim were being given Titles. Titles were mainly god and goddess titles, given to a person. They would be named god or goddess of a specific thing like Thor was the god of lightning, bravery and such. Queen Frigga, as well as a council of ten other gods and goddesses, would discuss and decide what you should be named deity of and was not revealed to the deity until the ceremony. I was a special circumstance, however. I was being given a whole new name as I had no legacy but my own. White symbolized a fresh slate after all.
"In some ways, yes. Other's not so much," I said softly as a royal guard strode passed us. Loki's smirk faltered. "I will surely be banished from Asgard if they find out what I intend to do."
"Do it well and they will not know it was you," Loki said lowly, the mood shifting once again to glum and nervous.
"I am no God of Mischief, but I can fare well enough on my own," I teased lightly. Loki shrugged, tilting his head to peer down at me.
"I don't have a doubt, just get back fast," he said. I nodded my head curtly as we headed for King Odin's trophy chamber.
~*~*~*~
Loki stood outside of the trophy chamber, pacing and keeping watch for any curious souls, leaving me to walk alone down the black marble floor. I shifted the satchel's strap around my shoulder nervously, my eyes scanning rapidly to find my prize.
To the left most part of the room was a pedestal, and atop it sat King Laufey's head paired with a cracked silver crown. As if a silver crown was meant to mock the Jotunheim King, if anything he was having the last laugh.
With delicate, shaking hands I lifted the severed head off of the pedestal, pausing to see if any traps or alarms had been triggered. Nothing blared or sounded, which was a good thing for the moment. I carefully set the head in my satchel, the weight of his head immediately causing me to shift the satchel around to combat the unevenness. I took a deep breath before silently making my way up the black marbled stairs and back to Loki's side.
"I will be back soon," I muttered. Loki only nodded, giving my hand a gentle pat before we parted our separate ways. Loki was headed to Odin's chambers to confront him about his own being while I was headed to an old friend.
To better conceal myself and divert attention, I pulled my dark raggedy cloak up and around my shoulders. It was one of the only things not burned to the ground from my home with it's ugly smolders and burned stains. It was beautiful to me however, and it helped be blend into the common crowd, easily weaving my way in and out of the people without even getting a second glance. Even my deep green dress made of intricate threads and expensive silk was hidden under the dark cloak.
My heart ached to ride Bjorn as I walked past the stables and down into the street, but it would be much more obvious if I were to ride a war horse around Asgard. So I pushed on, past a dear friend and onto the multi-chromatic Bifrost. The colors rippled and radiated different colors each step I took. It was just a beautiful as ever.
"Lady Y/N, I am sorry for your losses," Heimdall greeted lowly, bowing his head ever so lightly. I nodded my head curtly- an action I was noticing that was becoming automatic.
"They were your losses as well," I responded. Heimdall hummed in response, shifting the golden Bifrost broadsword in front of him.
"You did not come here to mourn with me in your fancy attire, though. Where do you think you are going?" Heimdall asked quietly. I could only scoff, a cold smirk tugging at my lips.
"You already know, dear friend, where I want to go," I said. Heimdall's fiery orange eyes glimmered with thought. "It is a risk to you, I understand that and I will repay in you in a great manner, or manners if at all possible." Heimdall smiled slightly, a gentle, almost mischievous smile.
"What you are doing is right, my lady," he said, his eyes shifting the the bulging satchel that hung around my shoulders. "But if the royal family asks, I cannot refuse them. I am bound to their services."
"I understand, do what you must," I sighed. I knew that he would not keep me a secret, he was after all, mentally and physically bound to the throne. He was born to protect it at all costs and a simple girl would not change his outlooks.
"To Jotunheim, correct?" Heimdall asked, his voice low and rumbly.
"Yes, you know the spot," I said, my voice growing colder and almost distant. Heimdall nodded and thrust the large sword down into the Bifrost. Immediately, the Bifrost sprang to life, the metal plates moving haphazardly to align with Jotunheim. Colors danced in a rapid beat around the hollow golden sphere, creating a clear image of a desolated village below.
Heimdall gave me a nod and I stepped forward, letting myself be pushed and pulled throughout the Bifrost before landing heavily on my knees. This time, the raw feeling of nausea was not as powerful as the last.
The air around me was no longer welcoming and warm, instead the atmosphere seemed to freeze and hold my breath inside my chest. Even my heavy cloak and mourning dress provided no warmth. I dusted off my snowy knees and adjusted the satchel in which Laufey's ugly head sat.
The village that Orgnar and his selected group burned to the ground was nearly just as it had been left- a desolate, ashy pile. A flicker of anger began to grow in my stomach but I pushed it down, today was not about me. I traipsed my way through the ash and snow mixed ground, past hanging remnants of huts and trees. There was no rushing water, and where it should have been was a lake so frozen over I was unsure you could see anything past the top layer.
And with Ymir's last breath, he froze over Jotunheim.
I shivered, pulling my cloak closer to my body. In the distance was nothing but blinding white snow even though Jotunheim's sun was not that bright.
To the left side, however, were several crude sticks protruding from the ground in a lined fashion. I made my way to the area to see that most of the sticks only rose to my mid thigh. Each stick held etched symbols and pictures which I assumed were Ancient Remsi Runes- a language I could not comprehend.It was their graves- done quickly in fear that we would return to finish the job.
Further up the garden of sticks was an even larger stick with several stones piled at its base. I assumed that the grave belonged to a being with much more respect. My only guess was Hynola's grave. Anger flared in my stomach once again, and this time I did not try to tame the beast inside of me. I snatched Laufey's head out of the satchel and have his pale face a cold smile.
"You will sleep with the damned," I whispered to Laufey's head. He was never one to get down and dirty- it was a shame a young woman like me had to bring him to our level. I shoved the sharpened stick into his head, a satisfying crunch echoing across the barren village. I stepped away, watching as his head swayed from the force on the top of Hynola's grave stick. A sudden gust of wind billowed through, sending a loose top layer of snow across the makeshift graveyard. This time I was not cold, instead I was numb to the world and what I felt. My cheeks were just as raw as my feelings and it would have been a dangerous time to approach me.
"It is no golden pyke, but I promised you his head," I said sternly. The wind howled this time, whistling against the swaying sticks and I could almost imagine it was Hynola laughing deep in death. She had her final wish fulfilled, and I was the one to honor it, proudly. I couldn't help but smirk as the laughing wind whistled and blew Laufey's silver crown off of his head. It slowly tumbled away, the soft clanking against ice becoming distant. Even Laufey's head seemed to frown with disapproval and my smirk only got wider.
My job there was done.
I turned on my heel and headed away from the graveyard respectfully. I was sure that my family was proud, for I kept loyal to the end whether it be friend or foe. A promise was a promise.
"Heimdall!" I summoned. It was mere seconds before the familiar pushing and stretching of the Bifrost paired with a certain warmth washed over me. And just like that, I was back in the golden hollowed sphere of the Bifrost, standing a few feet away from Heimdall.
"I admire you, Lady Y/N," Heimdall said lowly. I paused for a second, knowing full well that a compliment from Heimdall was nearly unheard of. "You don't want to be late for your ceremony, it's nearly time." I could only smile to myself as Heimdall turned away from me, forever seeing the events of the universe unfold and happen before him.
-----
Changing was not a fuss as it had been before. My dress hand been handpicked by Queen Frigga just as the others had as well. It was a simple white paired with many golden bands and linings- very similar to my armor design. The only thing rather different was a twisted golden circlet with a verdant green gem in the middle of it. I smiled softly, knowing full well that the gem color was no coincidence. No detail was left unnoticed by her.
Before I knew it, I strode gracefully down the golden halls of the throne room, several hundreds of Asgard's citizens lined up against the sides of the room, awaiting the Title ceremony with excitement in their eyes.
At the end of the throne room stood the royal family, dressed in their royal clothing and lavish jewels. My eyes met with Loki's first, and I couldn't help but smile to see Loki smiling so widely and proudly. Queen Frigga and Odin stood in the center of the throne room, nodding their heads respectively to me as I halted before them.
"Lady Y/N, the first to volunteer to march upon Jotunheim, the slayer of King Laufey, daughter of Battle Maiden Synu and Soldier Brjnolf. We honor you today," Odin announced, his words easily carrying across the crowded room.
"Today, you will carry a new name upon your shoulder, you will become your own family with your own crest as you have no living legacy. You have deemed yourself worthy of both a new name and a goddess title, please accept our gift." Queen Frigga smiled, her voice warm and welcoming. For a second, her bright blue eyes and braided hair reminded me of my mothers and I sighed gently.
"I accept," I said gratefully, straightening my shoulders and drawing myself up taller.
"Welcome, Lady Sigyn," Queen Frigga hummed. "Goddess of Loyalty, Fidelity, and Integrity."