Loki
The refugee ship descended through what should have been an empty void but was now filled with breathable atmosphere. Loki watched through the viewport as the changed golden spires of Asgard grew larger as the ship lowered till it stilled with a jerk above Hrimthur's walls.
He turned with a frown to the helm. "What is wrong?"
"I can't explain it. The ship just refuses to go any lower. Why, the last time I seen something similar was when my mom's..."
Loki immediately stopped listening to the spiel from the Kronan, one of the few survivors of the species of rock-like humanoids left in the known universe. He would've wondered how Thor had made friends with the smooth-brained humanoid if he didn't know his brother could make a drinking buddy out of even a cow.
He turned to the next person beside him and noticed the faraway look in Heimdall's golden eyes. He did not bother reiterating the question. Instead, he waited. His sole nervous tic was the smoothing of his long black locks behind him. At long last, Heimdall blinked.
"It's the walls."
"What do you mean?" Brunnhilde asked the all-seeing watcher.
Heimdall turned towards them and continued. "It's the magic of Hrimthur's walls, engraved into the runes and nails imbued in the them. It has created a defense as conceptual and magical as it is physical. Although there is a crack in it, however, that crack is not enough for us to land a full ship on the realm."
"So what do we do? The people grow antsy with every passing second," the Valkyrie replied.
"Himinbjörg remains outside the walls. Changed but functional regardless. That is where we would meet the people who rule here. They wait for us already." Heimdall gave Loki a look. A look that told him that he was waiting for his decision. This was what he had sought for a long time, the mantle of leadership, yet its cost... He had never wanted it like this.
"Take us to Himinbjörg, Kronan," Loki finally ordered after long seconds as he straightened up.
"Ehh, where exactly is that? You see, I don't kn..."
"The Bifrost landing platform just outside the walls, you stone oaf," Loki replied with a tired sigh, the seriousness and weight of the moment shattered by the rambling of the Kronan. Even with Thor dead, the blond-haired brute had still managed to foster upon him another brute that would act in his place.
The thought brought a smile to his face as, with another jerk, the ship moved again.
"Approaching the Bifrost landing platform," the Kronan said shortly after. "So what's the plan, boss?"
"You'll keep the ship running, but we will send a delegation down."
Loki glanced at the people around him. The green brutish creature that had broken his spine in four different places had found his way out of whatever hole it had dug for itself and was behind the group of refugees, looking dumb and confused as it scratched its oafish head. Loki wondered how long it would take for it to return to its more manageable human form.
His eyes moved to Brunnhilde, and the look she gave him told him his answer without words. Then they moved to the Kronan and the other gladiators, and without even a second's consideration, he skipped over them before returning to Heimdall. They were all that was left of the Old Asgard. With the Warrior Three, which had consisted of Volstagg the Voluminous, Fandral the Dashing, and Hogun the Grim, dead at Hela's hands, they were all that were left. Loki smiled suddenly. Of course, there was the Lady Sif, whom he had banished while he acted in place of Odin a few months ago.
"Only the two of us shall," he finally said to Heimdall, then he turned to the Valkyrie and continued. "You'll stay here and watch over what is left of our people."
The ship came to a halt, and the three of them moved as one, heading towards the landing ramp as the refugees cleared a way. They got to the ramp just in time for it to open slowly. Loki turned to the Valkyrie one last time, as seriously as he could. "Nobody leaves the ship until we return, and if anything happens..."
"We run," Brunnhilde finished for him. "We know the drill, Loki." Her features darkened, shame warring with anger. He knew it would not be an easy thing for her to do, not when the last time she had turned her back and fled, her sisters had died at the hands of Hela.
He gave her a single encouraging nod and descended the ramp, Heimdall at his side. The gatekeeper's golden eyes swept the area constantly, processing more information than Loki could comprehend.
"It's the convergence of worlds."
It took Loki a second to grasp what Heimdall meant, and when he did, all his brows rose up.
"Unless I somehow fell asleep for five thousand years, then that should be impossible."
"It should be. This is not a perfect replica of the cosmic alignment, yet it is close enough. I have seen the convergence multiple times now. A beautiful thing, natural. This bears its marks, but twisted. I did not want to mention it up there, but I believe you need to know this if you are to meet the people that await us."
Loki said nothing in reply as he thought furiously about how this changed things.
They touched down on Himinbjörg and Loki, having internalized Heimdall's words, had the time to put his focus to other things. The first thing he noticed the moment his feet touched solid ground was the differences. Where Heimdall's station and home had once been a simple structure of gilded gold, the Himinbjörg that had replaced it was a mix of the two. The architecture was still Asgardian, but the style was different. Less gold, more wood, and with more defensive fortifications. It was functional, much like he expected it had looked like when Asgard still had enemies to protect itself from.
A delegation awaited them.
At the center stood a woman with beautiful blue eyes that held false warmth. Her blond hair was pulled back into a long braid that almost kissed the floor behind her, while shorter braids framed a face more beautiful than any he had ever known. She was dressed in a slightly revealing blue and gold gown, and her exposed arm showed off tattoos written in their tongue. She greeted them with a false smile that Loki only recognized because he saw it on his face every day.
She was the diplomat, or perhaps the schemer.
On her right was a pale man. He was big, the same height as Heimdall, but he was built differently. Muscles upon sculpted muscles that gave him a look like he was a mountain given human form. His skin was an unnatural pale and was marked with red tattoos that wrapped his form. His beard was dark and streaked with gray, and his eyes were the color of dull amber.
But it was not his appearance that made Loki's breath catch. It was the way he stood still. The way Heimdall had not let his eyes drift from him since the golden-eyed watcher had stepped out of the ship. Even standing completely at rest, there was something about the pale man that put Loki's teeth on edge. It reminded him of Hela. The man was a warrior, and Loki knew that for certain even without looking at the axe humming with power and strapped to his back.
"My name is Sif."
Heimdall's eyes snapped away from the man and widened in the slightest, but he was not looking at the woman. He was looking somewhere behind her.
"Goddess of beauty, fertility, and harvest, and also the diplomat of the Aesir and member of the Regency Council." Her hand gestured to the side and towards the pale man. "This is Kratos," Sif said, and there was something in her voice that Loki did not have the time to decipher, not when he looked at an alternative version of the brutish woman he had sent away. "He is a god of war and the general of the Asgardian forces and also a member of the Regency Council."
Then she turned her focus back to him. "Who are we addressi..."
"M'Lady, how did you forget to introduce me?" A strange voice called out, shocking Loki from his fugue as his green eyes trailed to where it had come from. The sight of the speaker caused his eyes to widen even further. It was a horned head that hung from the hips of the pale giant.
The pale god of war lifted the head and turned it to face them slightly. "Fine, I'm going to do it myself then. I'm Mimir, the smartest man, god, and even head in all of the nine realms," the detached head said with an accent and a smile.
"Forgive me, Mimir," Sif replied, even if Loki could not see the slightest shred of remorse in her face or voice. The reveals were too much. Sif, a strange god of war, a detached head. Loki took a breath and glanced to Heimdall for support, but the all-watcher's attention remained on the space behind Sif.
So Loki turned away. It looked like he was doing this on his own then. So just like the woman did, he put on his own false mask, one of cheer and gregariousness. Considering the way Sif's eyes tightened, he doubted she was oblivious to it, but this was all a play, and she understood he was simply acting his part.
"It's a joy to meet you, Lady Sif, Kratos, and Mimir," Loki said, inclining his head and moving into a smooth bow. "I am Loki, son of Odin, prince of Asgard. Or rather, what used to be Asgard."
When he raised his head, it was to a varying amount of reactions. Sif had a brow raised in amusement. Kratos looked... well, he found it hard to interpret the man's reactions, but whatever it was, Loki didn't think he was happy. But Mimir looked intrigued.
"Loki, you say? and of Asgard? That is curious, very curious. I think my theory is holding more weight by the second. Don't you agree, Freya?"
The words washed over Loki, but the name. That name the detached head had called hit Loki like cold water, and he felt something twist in his chest, something he could not name.
"Explain yourself," Kratos spoke for the first time, and his voice rang like crushed gravel.
Loki frowned at the forceful tone, then glanced back to Heimdall. This time, the golden-eyed watcher spoke. "Explain everything to them, Loki. That is the only way they can understand."
So Loki did. He told them of Odin's death. He told them of Hela, of Surtur, of Ragnarok, and Thor's sacrifice. He told them of the prophecy fulfilled and the realm destroyed. He spoke in careful, measured tones, erasing the pain and emotion from his voice so he could watch as the delegation's expressions shifted from the suspicion on Kratos face, to shock on Mimir, and to something that might have been pity on Sif's face.
When he finished, there was silence.
Then a voice spoke from behind Sif, and Loki felt his breath catch again from its familiarity.
"I believe the boy speaks true."
A woman stepped forward from behind Sif. Her figure came into shape as the illusion she had woven around herself was dispelled with the image of leaves untangling. Her face was narrow and sharp, her hair dark, and eyes sharp and angry. She wore a robe and armor of green and gold. Her revealed arms showed Vanir tattoos. A bow and arrow hung on her back, as did a sword sheathed on her hips, while power radiated from her like heat from a forge. Magic, but that was not the reason for his shock.
"Mother," he whispered with a half step forward. A step that was halted by Heimdall's arm on his shoulders.
The woman gave him a strange look.
"I am Freya," the woman said. Loki did not doubt it or her. Freya or Frigga, what difference did the name matter when he knew that face? She was younger, way younger than the mother he had lost, but he had seen the tapestries, pictures, and images of Frigga when she was younger. The voice also matched. It was different, harsher, like the woman before him had spent most of her life screaming, but he could not forget that voice. A voice that had lulled him to sleep as a boy.
She continued her introduction. "Once Queen of the Vanir, now advisor to the Regency Council. I have examined the threads of fate that cling to these refugees, and their story is true." She turned to the three other figures. "We would need to meet the Norns themselves down on Midgard to gain a better understanding, but the facts remain that you were right, Mimir. When we cast the spell, we ripped ourselves from our own reality and hurled ourselves into another. A reality where Ragnarok has already occurred, and Odin has just died. Those pivotal moments allowed us to anchor our own reality over theirs, ensuring that Ragnarok shall never find us, for we have, in a sense, experienced it already."
"You're from an alternate reality," Heimdall finally said.
"Aye, I thought as much," Mirmir said by means of confirmation. "It explains a lot of things. Crossing between realities is not unheard of. I've done it, as has Kratos, but what we did today... It would go down in our history books for a long time."
"So what now?" Loki asked. The revelations and shocks were overwhelming, but he did not have the time to deal with them. He needed to secure a place for the refugees first. The question was how to ask for such aid.
"Your Odin is dead, as is your Thor, so you are bereft of an All-Father," Sif started, but trailed off and focused on him. "Unless you're willing to assume the title and the responsibilities that follow."
The grimace of pain that Loki gave was hidden under an illusion of a big smile, one that Freya did not seem to miss. "No, I do not."
"Then only one All-Father remains. Thor Odinson, even if he is not present. As you and your people are of the Aesir regardless of the reality that separates us, I say we join and welcome each other as one, regardless of the differences."
"I agree," Mimir said. "This Asgard should belong to the two peoples, for it was built and merged from two."
"Then it is settled then, unless you disagree, Kratos?" Freya said with a raised brow to the pale-skinned man. Kratos simply responded with a grunt that Freya must've taken for agreement because she nodded in reply. "Then that is fine. Pending any change from the All-Father when he returns, you shall stay among us. Are there any questions?"
Loki had a thousand and one questions to ask, but he had shown enough vulnerability already today. There would be time to show more as well as expose the limit of their ignorance, so he decided to ask the least expected question.
"Kratos," Loki repeated, tasting the name. It was not Asgardian, not even close. "You are not of Asgard, are you?"
"No," Kratos rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "I am not."
"He is from another pantheon entirely, another reality adjacent to ours but close enough that we were familiar with each other," Freya supplied, and there was something complicated in her expression when she looked at the pale warrior. "He aided our Thor in the final battle against Ragnarok and has chosen to remain with us for now."
Loki studied Kratos more carefully. Another pantheon. That explained things somewhat. Especially the foreign feel to his power. It reminded him of the one time he had followed alongside Odin on the rare times the All-Father went to the Council of the Godheads. Kratos felt much like their leader had back then, Zeus.
"You fought beside Thor," Loki said instead of asking the true question he wanted. Instead, he simply tabled it for another discussion.
"I did," Kratos confirmed. His dull amber eyes fixed on Loki with an intensity that made the trickster want to take a step back. "And I watched him sacrifice himself so the realms could survive. He bought time for a spell that should have been impossible, and he paid the price for it."
"Where is he now?" Heimdall spoke for the second time, his own golden eyes meeting Kratos's. "You say he sacrificed himself, but Sif mentioned he was absent, not dead."
Sif and Kratos exchanged a glance, and it was Freya who answered.
"He fell through a rift in space and time," the Vanir goddess said quietly. "We were forced to leave him behind, but Fenrir had been able to tear open space and time long enough for him to escape the emptiness that was Ginnungagap, but it destabilized before he arrived. We do not know where he is. We cannot sense him. For all we know..." She trailed off.
"He could be dead," Loki finished. Another Thor, dead or lost. The universe seemed determined to take Thor from every reality, in every form.
"We do not believe he is dead," Kratos said, his voice firm. "I've fought with him and fought against him. Death would have to earn the right to take him, for he would not leave his daughter behind, just like I would not leave my son."
"Daughter?" Loki's head snapped up.
"Thrúd," Sif said softly. "Our daughter. She is taking his absence poorly."
Loki felt something twist in his chest again at those words. Joy, madness, laughter. He had experienced an unimaginable roller coaster of emotion today, way more than he could ever remember at any one point in his life.
A daughter. His Thor had never had children, had never even come close. But this Thor had a daughter. The universe had taken his Thor from him and had replaced him with a full family once more. A Thor who was lost. A younger Freya, a Sif for an in-law, and a niece. One he could...
"I would speak with her," Loki said before he could stop himself, his voice only breaking in the slightest. "If she will allow it. I knew a Thor once. Perhaps I can help."
He hoped his desperation was well hidden, but judging by the look they gave him, he did not think so.
Sif studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Perhaps. But first, we talk and decide how to settle your people, and this place is no good for such a discussion. Come. The Regency Council will convene at Gladsheim, and we will decide how to proceed further."
They turned and began to walk down the rainbow bridge that led past Hrimthur's walls. As they walked, Loki found himself holding on to the tightest glimmer of hope that perhaps Ragnarok was not for the worst, for he had gained a new family. Yet some part of him was worried and scared, for the universe was a cruel, unfeeling mistress and she demanded balance.
He simply hoped that the loss of two Odins, one Thor, and Asgard was enough of the price to pay for this new life they had been granted.