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….
Through the mental link provided by Gungnir, I could actually see myself from behind, looking through the glowing visor of the Destroyer as if it were a second body.
For a few tense seconds, the Bifrost focused its terrifying energies on the exact coordinates I required, and then...
A blinding flash of multicolored radiance swallowed me whole, ripping me into the howling, prismatic slipstream of the dimensional tunnel.
The flight was short. Brutally so. I was violently expelled from the light, my boots slamming down onto the jagged, icy wastelands of a dark, sunless world.
The air here was a physical weapon. The freezing gale rushed into my lungs, but before it could even attempt to discomfort my divine physiology, I pushed my will outward.
Deep inside me, a new sensation uncoiled, a power I had absorbed, no, awakened, through my brief communion with the Casket of Ancient Winters.
Ice magic, ancient and terrible, surged through my veins alongside my blood. I felt my skin shifting, the Aesir illusion melting away to reveal the deep, cerulean blue of a Jotun.
I felt my eyes bleed into a piercing crimson. The intricate, raised spiral patterns of my true heritage etched themselves across my skin. Instantly, even the ephemeral, phantom chill of the dead world vanished.
I didn't just survive the cold now; I was the cold.
Lifting my gaze, I spotted the jagged, towering ruins of the Jotunheim royal palace looming in the eternal twilight ahead.
I gripped Gungnir tighter and began a slow, measured march forward. They already knew I was here. The welcoming committee would be arriving momentarily.
I could have easily masked my presence. I could have slipped through their shadows.
But I didn't.
"Intrud…" the first Frost Giant patrolman started to bellow, clad in thick ice armor, before he froze dead in his tracks. His eyes bugged out, and his jaw literally dropped. His squad reacted the exact same way.
Seeing the utter, mind-breaking bafflement on their ugly mugs was surprisingly satisfying. And why wouldn't they be shocked? It's not every day you see a creepy, stunted runt strolling in carrying the personal weapon of the King of Asgard.
And yes, by Jotun standards of height and beauty, I was a creepy, stunted runt. I imagine the Kingsguard of the late Targaryen dynasty would have felt exactly the same way if Tyrion Lannister had suddenly casually strolled up to them riding a living dragon and swinging the sword Blackfyre.
"Take me to Laufey," I demanded, deciding to strike while the iron, or rather, the ice, was hot. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Okay, I admit, I was a little nervous. While I kept my external composure perfectly pristine, inside I wasn't exactly shaking, but my tendency to make unhealthy puns as a defense mechanism was definitely acting up.
The giants exchanged uncertain glances, clearly wondering what the hell to do with this situation.
After some awkward shuffling, the warriors concluded this was way above their pay grade. Forming a makeshift "honor guard" around me, they escorted me inward.
It was a long walk. An hour and a half, maybe two, of scenery that completely lacked variety: ice and darkness, darkness and ice, framed by the broad, blue backs and sides of my escorts.
Finally, our trek ended at a palace as grim and dark as the world itself. The structure loomed over the icy cliffs, stretching hundreds, if not thousands, of meters into the eternal twilight.
Its mighty bastions could have delivered a world of pain to any invading army, even Aesir and Vanir. And they had, back in the day.
The halls, enfilades, and corridors were as empty and gloomy as the world outside. It felt like there was nothing here but the faint echoes of our footsteps.
Even the frost didn't crackle, as if imbued with the atmosphere of universal silence.
A deceptive impression, of course, we had been watched almost from the entrance. I could feel the Jotuns' attention like icy prickles under my skin.
But no one went further than observing, and finally, we stood before the Ice Throne.
There sat an old, wiry, but still massively powerful giant, surrounded by his personal guard and "courtiers." Laufey in the flesh.
"What do you want, half-breed?" the Jotun hissed contemptuously, not bothering to make a gesture or even raise his voice.
"Do you really want me to announce it in front of everyone?" I smirked. "As you wish... Father."
A wave of whispers swept through the hall: surprise, disbelief, mockery, indignation, and malice.
The Frost Giant's lips twitched in a fleeting semblance of a snarl, his massive hands gripping the armrests of his throne.
"I have no son. He died in the ice many centuries ago," the ruler of the planet replied, his voice like the rustle of a blizzard, betraying absolutely no other emotion.
"Cowardly declaring the fruit of your little tryst with an Asgardian goddess dead... don't you think that looks pathetic? Especially if we recall which goddess it was?" I smirked again, immensely enjoying the way Laufey's face contorted.
Oh yeah! He already understood why I was here and what I wanted. And he also understood that he likely wouldn't have a choice in the matter.
"Be that as it may, I have come to demand vengeance. The blood of a traitor, taken in a duel. That is what our laws dictate, isn't it, Father?"
"Why should I fight you?" Laufey asked quietly, his red eyes warily tracking my movements from his throne.
"Because if you refuse, or if you order your lackeys to gang up on me, the Rainbow Bridge will be opened. It will strike Jotunheim and tear this world apart," I answered with a cold smile, allowing myself to relax a fraction.
If my vis-à-vis had attacked before I laid out the terms, things would have gotten... significantly more complicated.
Laufey shot up from his throne, fists clenching in a surge of emotion, while his courtiers, conversely, froze in sharp tension.
"Then you will die too," the Frost Giant promised in a deafening whisper, boiling with rage.
"Perhaps," I shrugged carelessly. "Or perhaps not. Who knows what precautions I've taken?" I let a caustic smile spread across my face.
"The question is, are you willing to risk it?"
"Step into a fight, knowing that even if I win, my world will still be destroyed by Asgard?" the Jotun asked slowly, trying to mimic my mockery, his crimson gaze dropping to the King's spear in my hand.
"That is also a possibility," I didn't deny it.
"Assuming, of course, that they love me so much in Asgard that they'd seek to avenge me by defying the sacred laws of a fair duel... Or, maybe they just use the noise as a convenient excuse to solve the Jotunheim problem radically and blame it all on me."
Pursing my lips, I stretched my face into an ironic expression. Loki's reputation across the Nine Realms was well known, as was the fact that half of Asgard despised me. This proved nothing, but it added a spicy note of uncertainty to his attempts to calculate Asgard's actions.
"Either way, you have a fifty-fifty chance," I continued. "Which, it seems to me, is vastly preferable to the guaranteed annihilation of your planet if you're too scared to fight me."
"You nothingness..." Laufey hissed through clenched teeth. "You think you can force me so easily?"
"You misunderstand the situation." I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes, but at that moment, it didn't stop me from looking down on him.
"I already have. Today you will die. The only choice you have left is..." I chuckled brightly, a reflex born purely of the body's muscle memory for mischief, "...to remain in the memory of your people as a ruler who wasn't afraid to answer for his mistakes before his son, or to not remain in memory at all, because there will be no Jotun people left, nor Jotunheim itself."
"Damn you," my vis-à-vis hissed.
"I'm already damned," I replied, cheerfully spreading my arms. "From birth, the blood of the biggest freaks in the Nine Realms flows in my veins. Isn't that a curse? So, what will it be?"
"Fine." The giant willed the ice separating his throne from the main hall to part. "After all, the King of Asgard personally coming to lay down his head in our lands is a rare occurrence. Why not give him what he wants?" Laufey sneered wickedly. "Clear the floor!"
The Jotuns obeyed instantly, scrambling back to the edges of the vast room.
"I grant you a duel, here and now! Anyone who interferes will answer to me personally," he barked, throwing a lethal glare at his overly zealous guards before turning his full, murderous attention back to me.
….
If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
[P] [A] [T] [R] [E] [O] [N]
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