bladesofasgard | The drums of war

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The drums of war

Loki took Thor at his word, that they would take the battle to the Jotun. He set the board carefully, causing delay in the Jotun army so that they would still be gathering, not yet departed when it was time for Asgard to strike.

But also, he made certain that they would be gathered, that they would be ready for the slaughter he and Thor would bring down upon them. Thor had given his word in that, as well. Loki could only hope that with each drop of Jotun blood, he'd be washed a little cleaner until he could emerge from the other side once more as himself.

The armies of Asgard gathered as well, waiting for Thor's command. Loki stood with his brother on the Bifrost, Gungnir in his hand. While it was the weapon of the King, Thor preferred Mjolnir, and the spear would serve Loki far better than his daggers for the coming slaughter.

The air echoed with drums like a frantic heartbeat.

Loki couldn't quite stop himself from smiling as he turned toward Thor. "Brother, it is time. Let us cut out the cancer that grows in Jotunheim. You need only give the word."

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The eve of battle had always been when Thor felt most truly alive, blood singing in his veins like thunder. He had waited for this day, the day he led his father's armies into war and proved to all the realms that Asgard's strength had never faltered, never diminished. The time for speeches was over. Battle... Battle he knew well. He could think of nothing greater than marching to war with the strength of Asgard at his back and his brother, as always, at his side.

He only wished that Sif, too, would come, and that the Warriors Three did not seem so weary of this when they last spoke. The war would win them over, but Sif... She had always followed them into ventures, no matter how fool worthy, how could she think this so much worse?

His brother spoke, drawing him away from such thoughts, and Thor found an answering smile on his lips, wide and savage.

"WARRIORS OF ASGARD!" His voice boomed around them, amplified by magic. "THE JOTUN THINK THEMSELVES READY TO CHALLENGE OUR MIGHT. WHAT SAY YOU?" There was an answering roar from the army, wordless outrage, and Thor answered it with a roar of his own. He lifted his hammer high, lightening cracking above. "TO VICTORY OR TO VALHALLA!"

"It will be victory indeed," Loki said, for Thor's ears only. The army wanted to hear from their King; Loki was just there to be Thor's shadow, after all. "The realms will shake with it."

He walked the few steps forward to stand in front of Heimdall. Heimdall, who had never trusted him, and probably still did not even now, not even knowing how close Loki was to his sister. And with good reason, Loki knew. But all that would soon be repaired. "Heimdall, open the Bifrost. Your King is ready to lead his army to war."

He saw the reluctance there, the desire to argue. But it was Thor's decision, that was plain enough, and Heimdall had always loved Thor. With Odin gone in sleep, Thor's word was law, and that was all that counted.

Heimdall nodded, expression - in Loki's mind - far too somber for the carnival of slaughter to come, and began to climb the steps to the bridge's control.

Loki smiled.

Heimdall didn't get more than a few steps before a murmur rose up - confused, concerned. The voices reached the Observatory before the wind did, whipping and cold and sharp. The bridge rumbled beneath the feet of those gathered, making the mutters grow into something louder, more concrete. Heimdall froze, turning back, surprise in his face as his golden gaze turned to the towering heights of the royal palace before falling to the wave of bodies parting along the bridge like the sea.

There was a tense pressure in the air, the calm before a storm, as if the very realm itself had taken a breath and held it. The tip of Heimdall's sword tapped against the stairs as he stilled, standing at attention, his gaze far-seeing.

"The All-Father comes."

The words seemed to summon the man himself, as the last of the army parted and Odin's mount thundered into view. The black stallion reared when the king reigned him in, prancing in agitation a moment before the All-Father swung down. He was wearing his armor, but there was haste in his step, and fury in his eyes.

"Thor. Loki."

The All-father's voice rumbled like thunder along the bridge as he strode towards his sons, the others backing away in the face of his anger. "What passes here?"

Thor didn't falter as the Allfather approached, anger in his eyes that made him think he must know of what transpired. He would have stopped for nothing less, and even now his blood quickened in his veins. If his father seemed displeased he did not think it was at them, for he had come in armor, with his mount.

"Father!" Thor bellowed in return, eyes bright. "Even as we speak the frost giants are massing for war. They conspired while you slept, and thought us weak in your absence." He gestured with his hammer as he spoke, the words coming from between clenched teeth, and if it had not been the Allfather nothing would have stood between him and Jotunheim for long. "Join us! Together, we will remind them of their place."

Edited 2012-08-01 00:46 (UTC)

Loki turned to face their father -- no, he wasn't really Loki's father, was he, it still hurt to think that, to be reminded of those lies -- and took a step closer to Thor. His grip tightened on Gungnir, but his expression assumed the aspect of a mask, eyes going cold.

No. He would prove himself a true son. If lies were erased with enough blood, he thought dizzily, they might resemble truth.

Loki could not remain silent; he needed to support Thor's words, see how the situation developed. And he'd done his job well in Jotunheim. He could almost feel Laufey's army gathering, ready to march. It was like listening to the rumble of an avalanche. "The Jotun march, Allfather," he said, tone measured and not so much calm as dead. "We will meet them, there or here."

"The Jotuns have been quiet within their wasted realm for generations now." Odin stated, his voice a low growl and obvious with displeasure, his single eye narrowing on his sons. "Laufey's people were decimated in the last war and he lacks the numbers and the resources to be any real threat to us. Not to mention that not once have they ever managed to breach our walls, even when they were in the height of their power. If they thought us weak in my absence, then they will rethink now. To march on Jotunheim now would be foolishness. Do you think so little of your people, whom you are tasked to protect, that you would march them out of the protection of our city and onto hostile and unfamiliar ground? Do you remember nothing of the lessons I taught you?"

Thor's expression changed, rapidly, as realization dawned on him. His father was not here to aide them in battle. He was not angry at the Jotun, as they should all be. And somehow, that made Thor all the more furious. Odin had been asleep, but how could he not see it? How could he not understand?

What Loki had not spoken of stayed in Thor's mind as strongly as any of his words. He had seen the wear the spying took on his brother, as if he had witnessed such evil in his time there that it had sickened him, hollowed him somehow. And he had gone back, regardless, because he thought it important - had aided Thor for heeding his advice, all of it sound.

Thor had not been asleep through endless meetings. He did not have Loki's deft tongue, but he was no fool, and he saw the arrogance in the faces of foreign diplomats, heard it in the edges of their careful words. Asgard was no longer feared and respected. If anything, the Jotun's foolishness was proof of that. Years ago, they would not have dared set foot on Asgardian soil, let alone come to beat at her walls.

Thor took a step towards his father. "So we are to wait and cower behind our walls? Allow the Jotun to cross into our realm and lay siege upon us while we what -- feast? Make speeches at them till they tire and return home? The Nine Realms laugh at us, father, and now we are to allow the Jotun to attack us? I think much of my people, and they are warriors born, all. This is an act of war and it cannot stand."

Loki stayed at Thor's shoulder, moving up behind him like his brother's shadow. If anything, his expression seemed to go colder and more distant at the anger of Odin and Thor. "Indeed the Jotun were humiliated and beaten down once, their treasure and trash alike taken as our spoils," he said. His voice was quiet, but there was a chill to it that penetrated as he stared at the man who he had thought was his father.

"And yet they are animals who snap and snarl, crazed with the lust for blood and the return of their pride. I have watched them with care." The longer he stared at Odin, the more his eyes burned. He was uncertain if it was anger or the threat of tears. But he continued on, inexorable. "They have no soul, nor rationality. They ought to be put down once and for all, for the good of Asgard and the other realms. I stand with Thor, for battle!" Something slipped down his cheek, probably a bead of sweat. He ignored it.

Even with Odin's intimidating presence, there were approving murmurs within the ranks at Thor's words, and even a few at Loki's.

If only he'd known, Loki thought with bitterness, that the way to gain approval with the society of Asgard was to propose genocide. He would have started long ago.

The crowd was murmuring, restless, some eyes averted at the display between the king and his sons, although most watched in avid fascination at the drama playing out.

Sif pushed her way through them, reaching the front of the crowd, her face pale and worried. What she had done... there could be dire repercussions for the actions she had taken, slipping into the Allfather's sanctum to plead for him to wake. He'd been furious when he had, more so than she'd anticipated and now she feared she'd done the wrong thing. It was too late for regrets, however, and she could only stand and watch from the bottom of the stairs outside Heimdall's observatory as Odin confronted his sons.

She felt rather than saw the movement at her sides as the Warriors Three joined her. Fandral's expression was all puzzled confusion over why this was being debated at all and which side of the argument he should be taking. Hogun was grim and silent, his hands resting on the hilts of his daggers. Volstagg towered over all three of them, looking worried and uneasy, fingers fidgeting anxiously with his beard and she instinctively laid a hand on his arm, knowing he was often the most affected by conflict in those close to him. He sent her a grateful look and she wished she could be so easy to reassure as she turned her attention back to the three before them.

Odin's expression was stern and implacable as he regarded his sons. "We have never cowered anywhere, but neither do we go to war on the threat of rumors and whispers. If Asgard marched at the first hint of conspiracy against us, we would never have had time to build these walls. Our enemies will always plot, always conspire, for that is their nature and they lust for what they do not have. What act of war have the Jotun committed upon us? Show me the actions of violence and intent and not the impatient restlessness of children who think that all war is glorious. War is harsh and vicious and it is the innocent who suffer, who have their blood spilled on the ground beneath your boots. The innocent of both sides, and before you claim our enemies have none," he barked out, his gaze turning on Loki now, as if anticipating an interruption, "then your observance of your enemy is flawed and lacking."

"This is not the time for hasty and reckless actions and I will not have you plunge the realms back into fear and anger and bloodshed for the sake of your pride and vanity," Odin snapped, taking a step back, giving a motion with his hand. The warriors in the crowd that had fought at his side in the old battles saw it and dropped to their knees in deference and obedience to the Allfather's will. Others followed instinctively. "The army will be dispersed, the men sent back to their homes and wives and children. And you two," he added, leveling an icy glare on his sons, "will convene with me in my council chambers so I might decide what will be done with you."

"No! Have you not heard Loki's words? Our enemies march!" Thor bristled at his father's words, meeting Odin's anger with his own, teeth barred. At the back of his mind, Loki's words rang too harsh, even for the Jotun, but his mind was not on that.

Rumors Odin called them, as he dismissed the army, dismissed all Thor had done - all they had both done, as if they were still children who had overstepped their bounds and their cautions meant nothing to a man who slept through it all.

He had thought when the generals heard him and agreed to join him in battle, perhaps he could earn their respect as a man as well as a king. He had thought that was the meaning of it all. He thought his father would trust him, would understand, but instead... The truth of it was what he had always feared. The Generals were Odin's generals, and any respect Thor commanded would always pale in comparison to his father. The Jotun could march through the bifrost now and none would lift a sword if Odin commanded it. Thor could be king tomorrow and that would still be true.

"You are a fool to do this." Thor spat, venomous. "You can make your speech to the empty chamber. Loki and I are for Jotunheim, without your army if that is how it must be."

Loki felt a rush of relief that Thor would still stand by him - and, well, why not, he hadn't learned the truth, the truth that they would correct together - and set his jaw. There had always been two people that Loki could count on: Sif, and Thor. It seemed they had been wrong to trust him in return, all these years, but there was little he could do about that now.

"Oh, I see quite clearly now, Odin," Loki said. He couldn't bear to call him father, not now, not with everything in his head gone so confused and unsteady. "I know well what they are, and what they will do." His eyes narrowed, burning, something raw and terrible catching in his throat. "You made many mistakes when last you were in Jotunheim. I have seen them all!" His voice rose to a shout and he had to take a breath, try to calm himself, hand going white-knuckled around Gungnir.

"Thor and I will go clean up your mess." There was the venom of a scream in that one word.

"You have seen nothing," Odin snapped at them both, though his face had gone pale with strain and guilty surprise, his hand tightening to a white-knuckled grip on his sword. "And you know nothing of which you speak. Yes, Loki, mistakes were made when last I marched on Jotunheim. Acts and deeds that I will never unsee until the day I last close my eyes. A needless devastation and waste of life, because of a people too greedy for more. Always more, but that does not make it right."

His voice dropped at he gazed at his youngest son, and there was regret and sorrow in his gaze, if not for the reasons Loki might assume. "So this is why you have changed your tune, why your voice rises in defiance with your brother's and screams for vengeance and war. Why your calm wisdom and steady logic have vanished. I did not mean for you to find out this way, my son."

And this was not the time nor the place that he would have chosen to confront him over the matter. The army was dismissing, but not quickly enough for Odin's liking and his sons' threat to go without the might of Asgard still stood. When had his sons become such fools? He had thought them far past such childish temper tantrums.

"Don't call me that," Loki hissed, no longer able to control his words, forgetting for that moment that Thor was there, that Sif was there. He saw only Odin, who had lied to him over and over, who still must be lying to him with each breath. Odin calling him 'son' was just one more lie, trying to paint a nettle so it looked like a rose. "Liar. You've no right to call me that!"

His hands shook, eyes gone wide and wild as he slowly approached Odin. "And what will you do with me now? Give me back to the beasts so they quiet down in their den? Lock me in the vault with your other stolen relics? I've made such a good shadow for your true son, Odin, but everyone could still smell you'd let a monster so close to the throne even if they couldn't see what was wrong!"

Tears spilled unnoticed down his cheeks, and incongruously he began to laugh, a sound torn from his chest. "Oh and they've always called me the liar; if only we'd known I was learning from the best this whole time! What will you do with your little pet now that it's had its... its head broken in two by the truth, Odin? Tell me!"

Thor looked between his brother and father, the thunder of his own rage giving way to uncertainty, a thread of something not unlike fear curling tight in his chest. He understood neither of them, but he felt the wrongness the exchange - in Loki, so unlike himself, as if he was coming apart, and the damming guilt written clearly on his father's face.

He shook his head slowly. Their words made no sense.

Or perhaps they did, and suddenly everything strange had fallen into place, and Thor could not quite believe any of it. It could not be true.

He moved without thinking, and all he knew was that Mjolnir had fallen from a nerveless grasp and he was stepping close to Loki again, reaching for his shoulder.

"Brother. Enough. This..." He looked to his father, the turmoil clear in his face. "What is the meaning of all this?"

Edited 2012-08-18 22:36 (UTC)

"No right?" Odin echoed, and while he looked stricken at the accusation, his voice rumbled like thunder as he met his son's stare. His voice dropped again, his words for his sons' ears alone. Most of the army had drifted far enough away that they were out of earshot, but the intense tone still carried the words to the lingering Warriors Three and the Lady Sif. And to Heimdall, the only other to keep this secret, since the day Odin had carried the infant into Asgard.

"No right? I didn't bring you home as a trophy, as a weapon, as a stolen relic. You were a babe, an infant, an innocent. Frigga and I have loved you as a son always, as much as if you bore our blood. We raised you beside Thor as a brother, gave you every advantage he had, indulged your desire to study your own path. Yes, we kept your heritage from you, but it was not from shame, not from cruelty. We intended to tell you when you came of age but..."

Odin's fingers clenched and unclenched about his hilt, the only outward sign of his agitation. "The time never came. But this... we did not intend this. We sought to protect you, not to make you doubt the life we gave you."

The sight of his son's tears, of Thor's dawning understanding, was nearly his undoing, but he shook his head, strengthening his resolve. "There will be no war. There will be no confrontation with the Jotuns. Not under such false pretenses. This is not a matter for swords and shields, for armies. You will accompany me back to the council chambers and we will deal with this matter in private."

Loki flinched away from Thor's touch, averting his face. "You're not my brother," he said. The words hurt in a way he could not begin to describe. "You never were. I'm just another lie." He retreated from Thor, a few quick steps that took him near the edge of where the Bifrost left the observatory.

Because that was the point upon which all this turned. If he was not Odin's son, not Thor's brother, not the man Sif loved, who was he? A beast in the skin of a man, nothing more.

"Heritage? What heritage, the black blood of vile monsters? I'll kill them all first! No," he said, staring at Odin. Another unsteady, near hysterical laugh fought its way free. "You thought to protect me? When every moment of my life I have been different and hated for it? And it seems rightly so! No. You never do anything without a purpose. Don't lie to me any more! I'm sick with it! Why? Tell me!"

Edited 2012-08-19 01:59 (UTC)

Thor flinched as if he had been struck, but in truth it hurt more than any physical blow, stole the breath from his lungs so they ached. He still dreamed on dark nights of his brother flinching from his touch, remembered with crystal clarity the color of the twine. Loki had not forsaken him then, though he had every reason.

They had fought together, played together, had been inseparable since Loki's tiny hand curled in his hair and pulled. For Thor, at least, there wasn't any choice to be made at all. Whatever else he might be, Loki was his brother.

Thor shook his head, slowly, and looked to Odin. He did believe his father. It was clear in his face, too, but Loki would not - could not. Not like this.

"You are my brother. Whatever lies have been told... that is not one of them." He took a step closer, too aware of Loki nearing the edge of the bifrost. "Please, Loki."

"Enough."

Odin's voice cut through Loki's hysterical demands like a knife, his expression firm and unrelenting. "So be it, if that is what you have convinced yourself of. No words from my lips will sway you, but I will not stand by and allow you to do this thing. Not when it will bring harm to countless others. Not when I have taught you better than that. Both of you," he added, leveling his stern stare on both his sons.

"You have both made foolish actions this day, endangered the safety and trust of those under your care. Through vanity and pride, through bitterness and hatred, you have betrayed those you were sworn to protect. You have proven yourselves unworthy of the trust I have placed in you, and the trust of those who respected you."

"Thor Odinson. Loki Odinson. You have defied the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity you've opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war."

His voice rumbled like thunder, rolling out over the Bifrost, echoing from the storm clouds that darkened overhead. Behind him, he heard the Lady Sif cry out, a protest, desperate and heartbroken, but he ignored it, unswayed as he gazed unflinchingly at his sons.

He held out his hands and the weapons of his sons flew to his hand, the spear to his right, the hammer to his left. He slammed the hilt of his spear to the Bifrost and thunder rumbled again, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The hammer lifted to the sky and a bolt of lightning struck in answer as Odin called the storm, summoning the old magics as he declared punishment on his sons.

"I now take from you your powers, your weapons of power, the gifts you have proven yourself unworthy of. The relics and magics of Asgard, of the Realms, are no longer yours to summon, until you prove worthy of their gift in truth," he declared in a ringing voice, watching impassively as he stripped them of their titles, their birthrights, their armor and protections. And finally, passed the final sentence, the one that broke his heart to utter.

"In the name of my father and his father before him, I Odin Allfather, cast you out!"

"No!"

Sif's scream echoed, but it was nearly drowned out by a boom of thunder as Odin's power backlashed, spinning his sons out through the Bifrost portal. The hands of the Warriors Three were the only thing that held her back and she fought them, cursing and struggling and then she collapsed, numb and shocked and devastated, staring at the spot where Loki and Thor had stood a moment before, trembling with disbelief.

Odin stood still and silent for a moment, his head bowed and shoulders slumped as the clouds overhead rumbled threateningly. He looked like an old man, broken and disheartened and frighteningly still before he lifted Mjolnir to his lips, whispering something softly, too soft for anyone to hear. Then, giving a broken cry, he flung it through the portal.

It vanished after the princes and only then did the light fade, the old magics dispersing. He stared after it a long moment before turning, not meeting anyone's gaze as he strode to his mount and thundered back towards the palace.

Sif was barely aware of Volstagg's arms wrapping around her, lifting her from the road. She didn't acknowledge any of them, their worried voices as they carried her back to the palace, or the way her tears soaked the giant warrior's shirt. She wasn't even sure of when exactly she gave up on the struggle to make sense of what had just happened and let her consciousness drift off into blessed welcoming blackness.

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The drums of war

this is the worst pre-battle speech I've ever written oh my god I'm sorry

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