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….
Same place. After Loki's departure.
"What do you think about all this, Yawar?"
The speaker was Belmir, a massively built giant only slightly inferior in stature to the late Laufey. Then again, for a general and the man the former King entrusted to lead conquests in his name, his stature was perfectly fitting.
"I do not know yet, Belmir," the relatively short, elderly giant shook his head. "Loki is famous for his cunning and deceit."
"The cursed half-breed," snarled a third participant in the council. "He killed the King and thinks he can just rule us now?!"
"He acted in accordance with our customs," a fourth argued.
"Since when do our customs apply to half-breeds? What's next, are we supposed to tolerate the son of a snow boar on the throne?"
"If that son of a snow boar is capable of destroying our world with a single command, then yes. We will tolerate him, bow to him, and call him our King," Yawar cut in sharply.
"Coward! Spineless weakling!"
"Into the circle!" the old man roared. "I'll beat those words back down your throat!"
The giants stepped away from the table and proceeded into a small, relative to their size, chamber. The inhabitants of Jotunheim were not known for their meek tempers, and with such difficult personalities, it was perfectly logical that there were designated spots for resolving sudden conflicts. Including right off the Council chamber, specifically for "debates" between respected "people" who couldn't reach an agreement.
The arguers stepped into the ring. A short, brutal clash, and the relatively young Jotun crashed onto the freezing floor, clutching a broken nose and spitting out shattered teeth. Yawar may have been old, and he had never been distinguished by physical might or towering stature, but the experience of thousands upon thousands of battles, combined with a supreme talent for ice magic, proved once again that he occupied his place beside the King by right.
"Now we may continue," Yawar said, as the Jotuns returned to the main hall after the brief duel. "Does anyone else have an objection?"
Everyone present cast short glances at their tribesman, who was sitting with his head bowed in defeat. He lost in a fair fight; no one would hold it against him. But for the next ten years or so, the poor bastard would be better off keeping his mouth shut.
Shaking the air without having the personal power to back up your words... the Jotuns did not approve of such things.
"Where are the guarantees that the half-breed will keep his word?" Belmir returned to the conversation, being the one most fiercely invested in the prospect of sending the army back into the meat grinder.
"There are none," Yawar stated, the ancient giant having remained silent until now. "However, even a 'King' like him," he sneered the title, "is infinitely preferable to the civil war that would have torn us apart had Laufey not done what he did. Furthermore, he possesses true strength and commands our magic."
"And yet, Yawar, he is a cursed, ugly runt."
"A cursed, ugly runt," Yawar agreed smoothly, "who can throw open the doors to the other realms for us once more. Who can make Jotunheim great again. What difference does it make to you, Belmir, whose ass warms the throne, so long as our warriors can finally taste blood again? So long as they can bring home rich spoils?"
"Hmm…" the general grunted thoughtfully. "Not everyone will be able to accept or understand this." He cast another heavy glance at the defeated challenger bleeding on the floor. "Even among us."
"True, but…" Yawar paused, his crimson eyes narrowing. "We will have to endure. At least until we can rebuild enough of our strength to hide ourselves from the gaze of the Rainbow Bridge."
"Loki is no idiot, much as I wish otherwise," sighed another giant from the shadows. "He will never allow that to happen."
"Yes, that is true…" The elderly Jotun smiled, and it was a thoroughly unpleasant sight. "Which is exactly why we must prepare in the shadows. Create hidden outposts, hoard resources, so that when the moment is right, we can step out from under the blade of his guillotine. And then, we will speak to the half-breed in a very different language."
"And what of Heimdall and his bastard eyes? This council chamber is shielded from him, yes, but it was forged by our greatest masters, on our own world, using the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters. We couldn't replicate this shielding out there in the ice right now, let alone on other worlds if we try to establish outposts there."
"The Guardian of the Bifrost is not omniscient. He cannot watch everything all at once. We will have to utilize the völvawitches and slip away through the Shadow Paths, pushing as far into the dark as possible. The process will be long, arduous, and grueling, but…" Yawar looked around the room. "If any of you have a better idea, I am listening."
Silence was his only answer.
"Then it is decided. Belmir, begin the preparations. A year is very little time, especially after a millennium of stagnation. As for me, I must go oversee the construction of a crypt for Laufey." Sighing heavily, the old giant pushed himself up from his chair.
The Jotuns had a mountain of work ahead of them. And they would need patience. An ocean of patience.
...
Some time later. One severely stressed Afro-Asgardian.
Heimdall felt sick.
No, that didn't quite cover it. He felt profoundly, existentially nauseous.
The very fact that Loki had become the King of Asgard sat like a jagged stone in the stomach of the Bifrost's eternal watchman. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what bothered him most, whether it was the Prince's inherently slippery nature, his blatant preference for dirty tricks over honorable combat, or the simple, infuriating fact that the very first magical skill Loki had ever mastered was how to hide from Heimdall's all-seeing eyes.
But what he had witnessed and heard today...
Loki was a Monster. Yes, exactly like that, with a capital M. And his Frost Giant heritage had absolutely nothing to do with that title.
He had cynically weaponized the ancient traditions and sacred laws of the Jotuns to butcher his own biological father... sure, he was raised in Asgard, but still... And then, casually threatening to annihilate their entire world, he had conquered it.
Single-handedly!
With a total body count of one.
….
If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
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