#Líf x Summoner

[asterouslyaesthetic]

i like how mythic líf and rearmed líf kind of take opposite approaches to the summoner, but they're also incredibly similar?

they both have this desire to see kiran happy, but the difference is that mythic líf is after his "death" at alfonse/hel's hands, while rearmed líf has been resurrected and taken in by ganglot

which is super fascinating because if their kiran was summoned, mythic líf would be stuck in a love triangle between his wife and his not-wife while rearmed líf would use that as more fuel to fight loki and thor to get his own world back because he has the option of it, no matter how much his own kiran tries to talk him down from that

like mythic has settled, but rearmed hasn't, and i think that has the beginnings for a great fic

[dotted-clouds]

pocky... and an attempt...

[anon-san]

"What happened to you, my Prince...?" (Please do not repost my art!)

[keikaru]

more than the scattering of petals | lif x summoner au

Líf doesn’t understand why a building like this exists on the outskirts of the city. Long branches, heavy with the fragrance of flowers, conceal the eastern inspired architecture from view. The building stands aloof, with tree branches stretching near the upper floor windows and caressing the tiled rooftop with its shimmering, green leaves.

But he doesn’t have to understand so long as Kiran is here.  

A gust gently stirs the leaves. The leaves rustle against the tiles and echo the rhythm of rain.

Líf approaches the home in long strides. Near the building, his eyes flicker to a slender silhouette resting between the sliding doors.

Her outfit is a loose garment with long sleeves. Sleeves pool around her as if she sits in the center of a rippling pond.

Without fail, she greets him as if they share a home.

He leans down and brushes his hand against her face, caressing her cheek. She leans into his touch with a gentle smile.

Hand under her chin, he tilts her head to face him.

He loves her with a gentle immensity. Her content expression, the way her body is attentive to his touch—she is his heart. The one he will destroy a realm for, his Summoner.   

She obliges and her eyes glimmer with a tenderness that stirs a warmth inside him. For a moment, she appears much more alive and regains her autonomy not as an automation for Ganglöt but as his beloved Kiran.

“Do flowers bloom knowing they will die?”

Her wispy voice carries a melancholic air, but her expression reveals kindness and love. But why did her words press into his chest like a bell echoing across an empty courtyard?

Uncertain how to respond, he presses his thumb on her bottom lip. Soft, pliant lips part under his touch. Líf opens his mouth to speak, but she laces her fingers together behind his neck and tugs him low.

They fall on the tatami.

Each kiss dissolves all thoughts and words. Nothing else matters but her soft and warm body beneath his. She isn’t like him. Not all the way, perhaps.

His chest tightens. But he knows she needs his body to stay alive.

He no longer winces when she grabs his hair and presses against him for more. When she needs him, she forgets herself. Her thoughts blur instincts to survive, to replenish her life, surpasses her desire to be gentle with him.

He doesn’t mind because he loves her. Anything to keep her alive, happy, and by his side in this world devoid of his former life…he will give pieces of his life for her body and mind to function without pain.

That is the contract he makes with Ganglöt to bring the Summoner back to him.

For the Summoner to remain with him, in the realm of the dead, he exchanges his life to replenish hers when they embrace and exchange sweet sounds.

He loves her, knowing that her unusual spells that leave her hollow are phases that will disappear in time. Thrasir reassures him that the Summoner’s unusual moods and personality changes are side effects until she accustoms to her body.

Until Kiran is strong enough, in body and mind, he doesn’t mind as her garment slips from her body and coyly guides his hand across her body.

Líf gazes down at Kiran—my Summoner—and they embrace as the heavy boughs scatter flower petals across their backs.

To love and to bloom, he believes their love is more than the scattering of petals.

He loves her, even if her hands carve out the fragments of his soul and life light.  

[thedragonkween]

líf and the summoner are such a beautiful tragedy - you will have to pry this ship from my cold dead hands.

It’s wrong. Líf knows it’s wrong.

You’re Spring. You’re Life.  

You’re as beautiful and warm as the early morning sun, as gentle as the soft autumn breeze.

He is Death. He is everything that is rotten in this world.

You should recoil in his presence. You should push him away, like he so desperately tries to do with you. 

And yet, you let him stay by your side. And he cannot find it in himself to avoid gravitating towards you, like the tides with the moon.

He places his giant fur cape on your shoulders when you shiver. The fabric is soft, but cold - the body of its wearer lacks the warmth to infuse it with - yet the weight of the cape is comforting nonetheless. It reminds you that you’re safe with Líf, that he will not let anyone or anything touch you. 

He hovers behind you like a shadow, clawed hand resting on Sökkvabekkr’s hilt, ready to glare at anyone who is foolish enough not to show you the respect you deserve. 

With you, he can taste hope: it’s sweet and always leaves him wanting more, just  like your lips. You let him kiss you in the secrecy of your room, your bodies basked in silver moonlight as the stars above witness this thing that has bloomed between you, despite all odds and against all reason. 

You don’t know how this will work. You don’t know whether the bond you share is destined to rot or to blossom. 

Yet, as his red eyes soften every time you sigh in bliss, it does not matter.

Dead or not, he will continue to protect you.

For you’re his Moon, and he is the loyal wolf who will worship it until the end of times.

[breidablik-and-folkvangr-archive]

can i pretty please request a scenario of líf being completely infatuated with kiran once hes been summoned??? like hes so grateful to even breathe the same air as them mxcmfjfnc

Wow I made myself sad again

To say that Líf had been glued to Kiran’s side ever since his summoning would be an understatement.

He followed Kiran like a shadow throughout the day, accompanying her on her various duties as Summoner, always watchful.

His meals were spent by her side, listening to her chat as she ate, occasionally giving short answers when asked.

He stood guard over Kiran’s study as she filled out reports, hand gripping the hilt of Sökkvabekkr, ready to bring it down over anyone foolish enough to threaten the Summoner.

Líf knew she was not his Kiran, but he could not help loving her so.

His favorite moments were the nights she would fall asleep on her desk. He would drape his cloak over her shoulders, ensuring Kiran’s comfort and warmth first, before allowing himself to just. Love her.

He would gently brush his fingers over her cheek and all of the feelings buried deep in his unbeating heart would pour out like a dam broken. Whispers of how much he loved her, promises to keep her safe this time, to make sure she knew nothing but happiness and joy, that she would live the long and fulfilling life his Summoner had been robbed of.

But he would not tell her. No, he had lost that right a long time ago, when he had first failed Kiran.

He would simply love her silently until the end of time while selfishly wishing his feelings might reach her in her dreams.

[sleeeeepytea]

Yikes I'm so sorry if this seems like too much, but what what about #13 #41 and #47 collectively for something with Líf? Maybe the summoner gets lost in Hel and has absolutely no idea as to where they are, lo and behold the chivalrous undead knight comes to their rescue. I understand if this is too much, or if you'd like to take some stuff off (I just thought these specific prompts fit well!) whatever you do I'll understand and support! Thank you very much for your time, have a great day!💜

hey anon!! sorry this took a while,, I've been kinda busy & your half-finished fic was one of the ones that disappeared ;; I really hope this is okay!! oTL I decided to like use all three because you're right - they do suit!!

--

no. 13; I won't let anyone hurt you.

--

Frankly speaking, you were fucked.

There was no light to guide you, no path to lead you home. You stood in the middle of what once was a forest, trees stripped to the bone with arms stretched out above you, looking up at the empty sky. There was a certain finality to the area, with the eerie feeling of impending doom following your heels everywhere you went. In retrospect, it was an incredibly stupid idea to split up and investigate the area; with no real weapon by your side, your chances of survival were slim to none if a sudden ambush of hostile troops were to appear.

The thought of being cornered terrified you, and you didn't realise just how scared of being alone you truly were until this all hit you. The fear spread through your body like some infectious disease, rendering you almost unable to think straight. Ah yes, thank you amygdala, your late action was most welcome in such a crucial time.

Footsteps seemed to come from an area behind you, slow and deliberate, and you find yourself beginning to tremble. As much as you normally were able to hide such physical reactions, the prospect of dying here wasn't exactly a fear you could quell as easily as others.

"Who's there?" You ask, voice rushed and (loathe you admit it) slightly higher than usual. "I'm able to take you on! Don't-"

"Calm down." A voice comes, now closer to you than you first anticipated. It was gruff and curt, yet somewhat reassuring. There was no hostility present nor any other cautionary signs of evil intention. You spin on your heal to face a... interesting fellow, taller than you and looking as confused as you were. You couldn't help but stare at the sight of his see-through chest, glowing dimly - not the weirdest thing you've seen, but it was concerning.

"Don't be afraid." He says after a beat, now staring at you intensely. Feeling quite scrutinized under the male's gaze, you shuffle back slightly with an attempted glare.

"I- I'm not scared! Surprised, yes, but not afraid." He continues to stare, brows now furrowed. Well, you never were the best liar. "I'm just. Lost? A little over my head. Kinda concerned for my longevity in this place."

He nods and while you didn't physically see his chest rise and fall, you hear a sigh. "I'll... take you back. To your own world." He eventually says, extending a hand to you. "Líf."

You blink a few times, examining his hand before placing your own into his palm. He squeezes it and you notice how cold his skin is, almost to the point of freezing. Líf must have sensed your apprehension of the entire situation as he gently tugged your arm closer to his side.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," he assures you in a hushed tone, beginning to walk in the same way you came. "you're safe with me."

His voice felt familiar, especially that soft tone of his, but you chose to ignore it in favour of following Líf silently. You whisper a gentle 'thank you', squeezing his hand and moving closer to his side. He tenses, but squeezes your hand in return nonetheless. At least you'll be safe this time.

[yukiwrites]

Spark of Life in a Cursed Body

OKAY SO IT’S NOT A SECRET THAT I’VE BEEN THIRSTING OVER LÍF FROM THE START YEAH? Yeah okay. So.

I’ve just been.. WAITING for more info on him to write uh to write sin of him... and NOW WE HAVE IT NOW THERE WE GO!!! LÍF/ALFONSE X KIRAN SIN!! Hope ya’ll enjoy it as much as I did writing it aksjdlnakmsd I LOVE EDGY ALFONSE WITH MY LIFE

_______________________________

Part 1 - Part 2

Kiran opened her eyes after she had seemingly just closed them, her entire body aching as the tips of her fingers lost their sensation. She was cold. So, so very cold.

The freezing stone she lied on and at never got warmer, no matter how many hours she chose to lay against it -- the damp, large cell that imprisoned her didn't magically become welcoming to her after the third day she had been chained inside it, either.

The large handcuffs itched on her wrists and ankles, preventing her from moving at all; she could barely stretch her legs and arms without feeling a twinge of pain from the short chains securely holding her to the wall.

She had been captured by the army of the dead three days previous in an act of carelessness. The one who abducted her, Líf, was not only her captor, but her warden as well. He had been the only living soul -- well, maybe not that alive -- she had seen ever since turning prisoner.

Apart from his muffled steps and silent ruffling of his cape dragging itself behind him three times per day, Kiran heard nothing. She had no idea where she was or how far into the Realm of the Dead she were -- or if she was in Hel at all. She could be anywhere.

What she did know what that she was at least three levels underground in some sort of abandoned dungeon. The walls weren't well maintained and there were leakages here and there; also the ventilation was either clogged or broken apart: it was far too cold even for an underground cave. She had been stripped of her Order of Heroes coat under the guise of preventing her from reaching for a hidden weapon, though the most important weapon she had in her possession managed to not be taken: Breidablik was a magical item that could be summoned through her will and a sleight of hand.

Problem was that her hands were bound so tightly together she couldn't hold her firearm-like weapon properly.

Also, the tips of her fingers were almost losing all sensation -- she was barely able to hold the spoon to feed herself whenever her captor came around to deliver her meals, let alone hold the distinguished mechanism that allowed her weapon to shoot magic and summon Heroes.

Sighing, the Summoner looked up to her feeling breath, feeling its warmth fade away from her body and her cell alike. No matter how many times she asked why she was brought there or why was she simply left alone for the most part of the day without ever seeing either the light of the day or the fading light of Hel herself, Líf simply remained silent.

He would bring her meals in silence, place the tray in front of her in silence, turn around and stay outside in silence until enough time had passed for her to finish eating so he could collect the tray and disappear into the nether for another six hours.

Then he would come back and repeat that strange ritual, while the silence would echo back Kiran's words to herself.

She was tired. It's 'only' been three days, but she had barely slept due to the cold and hard stone, not to mention the lack of feeling from all of her limbs -- were she to stay in that position for another day, she was sure she would need to amputate both legs and arms for lack of proper circulation.

As though on cue, the ruffling sound of Líf's cape and his muffled steps filled the silence with echo, the small sounds augmenting to the point of hurting Kiran's ears.

She was tired.

He pushed the door open -- Kiran noticed the previous day that it was unlocked, thus the reason why she was chained to the wall instead -- and entered in silence, his eyes quickly looking around the cell to check if there was anything out of place.

How could it be, Kiran thought, uncharacteristically ironic, I can't even stretch my legs from here, let alone wreak havoc inside an unlocked cell. Her tired eyes looked at his, their dark circles mirroring each other. She opened her mouth to speak, but barely a huff left her lips, exhaustion filling her lungs.

As per usual, Líf placed the tray by her folded knees, not waiting for her to reach for it before turning around to leave.

"Why..." she managed to say, her voice hoarse. He stopped in his tracks. "Why are you keeping me here, Alfonse? Don't just stay... silent, please." She huffed, her eyes burning with tears.

"..." Líf looked over his shoulder to his captive, their equally tired eyes meeting. She thought she saw a flash of compassion gleaming on his crimson gaze, but dismissed it as an illusion her mind prepared to make herself feel better. "The living should eat." He sounded muffled by his mask at the same time it shone in a brighter tone of blue while his voice spoke. "So do so." He said curtly, exiting the cell and closing the door behind him.

"Hahh..." Kiran breathed out a long sigh, her body deflating above itself, her muscles screaming in pain. As always, she could see his blue hair from the small, barred, window at the door, as well as the shadow of his feet in front of the gap under the door.

There had to be a reason for her to be so isolated from everything else. To start with, why did the General of the Dead capture her and put her so far from wherever they should actually be? Wasn't he a cursed version of Alfonse bound to obedience by Hel because he was dead? Why wasn't Kiran presented to Death herself immediately? Was he trying to slowly kill her and chip away her will to fight back before delivering her to a gruesome fate under the same curse as he?

... Why did he visit her at all if that were the case? He brought her meals three times a day -- though they were tasteless as they could be, they fulfilled their role of feeding her and (poorly) conserving her strength, as far as meals go, anyway. 'The living need to eat', he had said, as though he planned to keep on letting her stay that way, alive.

Calling him by his true name did nothing to steal answers from him, either. It made it hard for Kiran to compare the pure, hardworking and thoughtful Alfonse she knew to that silence machine. Even if he did look like a grown up and hardier Alfonse. If only he took that mask so she could see the true face of the cursed man under it...

Kiran only noticed she had finished eating when the door opened once again for Líf to collect the tray. She instinctively grabbed his hand, the cold metal of his armor doing nothing to her already numb fingers.

His eyebrows flickered with her touch, his eyes immediately meeting hers. She breathed in before speaking, though she had no idea where those words came from. "Did the Kiran of your world join the army of the dead as well?"

His eyes widened with the most emotion Kiran had ever seen from him -- they flickered from the usual crimson to Alfonse's true color, the deep blue the Summoner was used to. He frowned deeply, his eyes flickering with both colors, as though an inner fight had sparked inside his mind and heart.

Kiran could hear him breathing. Or perhaps huffing? That had been the first time she heard him do so -- she could almost pinpoint his heart beating, as though it was surfacing from a long, cold sleep. His chest went up and down, as though Kiran's words had triggered memories sealed deep within to surface in flashes, his vision blurring -- the only constant was the Summoner's warm touch over his ever-cold arm.

Memories -- they rushed into Líf's consciousness.

Her voice, her warm touch.

Her clumsiness, her eagerness to run around the large fields while pulling his hand, never letting go even after tripping -- taking him with her.

Rolling down the hills while dissolving in laughter, protecting her from most of the impact and still allowing mirth to shake his body despite the numbing pain of taking the brunt of the falls.

And oh, how many times did they fall.

But as long as they were together, as long as their hands were intertwined, he didn't mind taking the brunt for her.

He always did and he always would.

Yet... why was she the first one to jump in front of Hel's scythe directed at him? Why did she disappear into light right in front of his eyes, never to be seen again?

Why did they never meet after death? Did she return to her world? Did death claim her there?

Where was she?

"K-Kiran, oh, Kiran..." his voice shook, his mind stuck in the awakening dream.

Surprised with the deep-reaching sweetness that came attached to her own name, Kiran felt her eyes bubbling with tears, as though his voice alone could touch her heart. "Alfonse?" She whispered, almost lovingly so, reaching out for his mask so as to take it off.

Once she did, she could see that the intersection between skin and curse was black, like a charred scar that still pulsated. Under his nose and covering half of his lips, she could see the scar as the lower half of his jaw was covered in that blue curse, the bones visible through the transparent skin.

Hesitating before touching it, Kiran felt that the cursed half of his face was cold and warm at the same time, as though she touched something with the sensation of being febrile. Yet, the upper half, untouched by the curse and filled with his pale skin, felt warm to the touch, as though he were alive like herself.

Líf felt his entire body pulsate, the color of the curse throughout his body changing from blue to red, then to his natural skin color.

"Alfonse..." Kiran whispered his name again, the careful and tender emotion with which he looked past her -- as though seeing someone else in her, other than herself -- made her sag her shoulders and cup his face into her hands.

She heard a strong, loud heartbeat. Then another, and yet another. The faster it beat, the fainter the curse took hold of Líf, revealing his true skin under the bright blue.

An approaching dread made Líf shiver as he immediately blinked, seeing the true Kiran in front of him.

No. She wasn't his Kiran. Not the one who died in place of him to give their world a chance.

She was the one he had to protect; to prevent Hel from ever finding her lest she was butchered right in front of his eyes a second time.

She wasn't his, but oh, by all the gods, did he long for the day she would be. A day that would never come, granted -- not in his after-life. Not after he had missed the chance to be happy with her while he was alive.

"No!" He hissed, quickly jumping away from her. Hel could feel life.

Whenever there was life, death loomed closer.

Only Kiran's life force was different, for Hel had no hold in the world she came from. If Kiran was properly hidden amidst the dead, Hel would never find her.

But if Líf's heart started beating once more...

"That would be a lighthouse in the darkness for Hel to follow," his words outpaced his mind, speaking without meaning to.

Confused, almost bewildered by Líf's explosion of emotion, Kiran reached out for him once more. "Alfonse? What happened? You were-"

"Don't-" his voice struggled to keep emotionless as before, his chest still going up and down fervently, trying to suppress the rush of feelings. He covered half of his face with one hand, pulling his cloak closer with the other. "Do not call that name again. Not with her voice." He huffed, quickly leaving as though he needed to run away from her -- from her touch, from her memory.

From what she could awaken in him.

Inside the cell, Kiran could feel her heart beating in her ears, thumping so loudly it deafened her thoughts. He had left in such a hurry he forgot not only the tray but also to close the door entirely. He was running away from her.

Running away from what she could awaken in him. She could feel it in her innermost core: Líf -- no, the Alfonse he was before the curse -- loved her. Loved the memory of the Kiran he had lost during the battle against Hel; found her so precious he kidnapped this Kiran who looked like her but did not share her memories nor her feelings to protect her from Hel. A rather clumsy attempt at protecting, yes, but it was as though their quick but meaningful exchange had enlightened her.

He had been dead for so, so long.

He only had the fading memories of life to hold on to, and even those were diving into the abyss of darkness that his death was becoming.

To him, living meant only eating -- mayhap he forgot about everything else in the hundreds of years of servitude to Death.

Kiran's heart beat wildly, inadvertently smiling, but covering her lips right after. "Clumsy, but cute. As though the Alfonse in there never went away at all."

In his desperation, Líf had taken much too long to calm himself down; to bring back the coldness of death into his body. Making his own heart stop beating willingly was a strenuous task he never thought he would need to undertake. After all, the curse had been the one to do that the first time.

Before he realized, it was dawn -- he hadn't taken Kiran's third meal of the previous day, which startled him to the point of hearing the faint beating at the back of his mind again.

There was no way Hel did not notice the flicker of life coursing through his body in the previous night -- even if he hadn't actually met Death herself that day, he knew she had complete domain over all the withered lands around them. The parallel Order of Heroes turtled through their territory in search of their Summoner, but it would take them at least another week before they reached the dungeon into which Líf had brought Kiran to.

Was that enough time? Was that too little time? How long would it take for Death to act and claim his life as she did with Eir, for so very long? How long would it take until Death reclaimed its ownership of Kiran's life right in front of his eyes, once again by his own carelessness?

It had been a mistake -- to allow himself to remember so much. To feel alive again, even if it were only for a brief moment. To hear his own heart beating for that small, shivering and utterly charming woman.

To want to hold her hand, caress her body and claim her for his own as he had done so very long ago.

A mistake. One that could not be repeated again -- ideally ever, but more realistically at least until the Order of Heroes reached the dungeon.

He reached the dungeon after taking his usual precautions so as not to be noticed and entered swiftly, going down the steps in an uncharacteristic hurry. The moment he saw the wide open door, he felt a twinge where his heart used to be. Had she left?! Was he to never look upon her again?

Once he reached the door, however, the answer both relieved and terrified him -- Kiran lay on the floor, breathing heavily with her arms wrapped around herself. He didn't hear his voice calling her name, his body once again gleaming with life and dread at the same time. "Answer me! Has Hel claimed your-" he stuttered, his eyes trying to find the reason for her body to be so hot and her breathing to be so shallow at the same time.

"Alfonse..." She huffed, reaching out for his face. He had forgotten his mask in her hands the previous day, his expressions bare for her to see, as little as she could with her blurred vision. "I think I'm... catching a cold, hah." She coughed weakly, pulling him with everything she had so she could snuggle with his cold skin. A mistake, clearly, but her mind was fogged and she longed for the warmth she had felt in him the last time they met.

"Cold? A cold?" His eyes unfocused, he took a few moments to remember that the living indeed could get sick if they were exposed to low temperatures for long periods of time.

How utterly careless and clumsy! Líf had been dead for so long he didn't feel any more sensations in his skin -- neither cold, nor hot. He never stopped to think that Kiran could freeze to death in that damp, freezing cell.

He looked around, helpless as though he were a toddler trying to find something right in front of him, for something that could cure Kiran. He caught a glimpse of his own cloak and immediately covered her with it, at least giving her the well-deserved warmth he had robbed her for almost a week.

"Ahh, so warm..." Kiran smiled, leaning her cheek on his febrile chest. At the verge of panicking, Líf was unsure of what to do: it would do no good to kidnap her for her safety and have her die of a common disease! What did the living do in these situations, again? Why did he remember so much about his relationship with her, but nothing about the common sense of a living man?

Kiran snuggled into his chest, tightly wrapping herself in his thick cloak. "Thank you for what you've been doing for me, Alfonse." She said in a feverish daydream. "You've been protecting me, haven't you? From the dead... Even though I'm not... her." She huffed, her eyes closed, but her ears catching the slightest glimpse of his resurfacing heartbeat.

Unable to form proper words, Líf simply adjusted Kiran in his arms, allowing her to lean on him entirely instead of the cold stone behind her. Tea? Warm stew? Were these enough to cure a cold? He had no idea.

"You... you can think of me as her." Kiran said after a few moments of silence, the fever making her mind fog. "I'll comfort you, Alfonse. I'll embrace your... feelings." She huffed, placing one hand over his bare, cursed chest, making him flinch with her touch.

The place her fingers touched turned red, then returned to his skin color, as though the mere presence of her was enough to lift it entirely.

Once again he felt his heart beating and thundering by his ears, his eyes unused to the high his mind was going through.

"You are... sick." He managed to scramble the words, hesitating on whether he should take her hand away from him or to embrace her entirely.

Kiran chuckled, breathing the cool air under the long-awaited warmth of his cloak. "Psh, I'm fine. If I just sleep a bit, I'll wake up alright."

Líf may have let out a strangled 'oh' in response, but he didn't remember -- he was focusing all of his forces into making his heart stop beating again. Into making himself stop feeling.

Into stopping his hand from embracing her and bringing her closer to his chest.

Kiran woke up many hours later, at the late afternoon, feeling refreshed and without many body aches. Once she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she saw that she was surrounded by thick blankets and a large pillow -- all of them looking and smelling very old, but at least doing their job of making her comfortable rather well.

What had happened? She remembered hearing Líf's-- no, Alfonse's voice calling her, then strong arms holding her... She remembered talking of comfort and embracing, but little else.

Still, whom but Líf could have brought all of these for her? She still hung into his cloak, as well. The door was also closed, and the food atop the tray, restocked.

Kiran took one hand to her heart, to reassert herself of what was going on, and why was she feeling the way she did. She had discovered Líf's feelings for her, or at least for another version of her -- the version who died and left him behind, helpless and cursed. She found out about the Alfonse-like clumsiness he still had in him, as well as the way his mind, long poisoned by death, worked slowly regarding the matters of the living. It all made the first days of her captivity to feel like a wronged nightmare -- a clumsy mistake.

She was still chained, yes, but even the chains had changed, from a heavy iron to a light wood; they barely weighed on her arms and weren't nearly as cold.

There was also the matter of Líf's touch. His skin felt cold and warm at the same time, but whenever she could hear a heartbeat in the distance, the warmth outweighed the coldness. As though he felt so much for such a short period of time that it momentarily brought him back to life.

The tips of Kiran's fingers tingled, wanting to feel his skin under them again. Her heart wavered, wanting to be tenderly embraced another time -- and properly remember it. Her lungs huffed, her face embarrassed as she remembered the words she had uttered previously. "I'll comfort you? I'll embrace your feelings? What?!" She hissed shyly, shoving food into her mouth, her cheeks bright red.

Not two seconds later, Líf opened the door. The missing shuffling of his cloak making Kiran unable to detect his soft steps, which in turn made her choke with food in surprise.

Líf reached out to her, but hesitated as she almost coughed a lung to un-choke herself, unsure of what to do. Instead, he simply stood there, hand midway into action.

"Um, thank you for all of this," Kiran cleared her throat, signaling with her chin to the blankets and pillow around her. "I almost caught a cold there, but you saved me."

It had been his fault to begin with, Líf narrowed his eyes with guilt, but said nothing. He simply stared as she ate, unmoving from the door.

Still embarrassed from her sudden realization, Kiran munched in silence, quickly swallowing before speaking again. "Um... Can I ask something?"

"..." Líf remained silent, though he crossed his arms as though giving her leave to speak. Well, even if it weren't, she would have spoken anyway.

"Can I, um, can I take a walk? We don't need to go far or outside at all, but I need to stretch my legs... I'm afraid I won't remember how to walk if I stay here for too long."

Líf felt his chest fall, as though his slumbering heart felt guilt. He opened and closed his mouth many times, glad that he was wearing his mask once again.

"I promise I won't run away." She added, her pleading eyes making Líf's legs feel funny. "I wouldn't be able to, anyway," she mumbled under her breath, messing with a lock of hair as she usually did whenever she felt awkward.

Líf had to take one hand to his chest, as though he could clutch his heart which felt so much pain and devotion at the same time.

He hadn't felt anything in so long the sudden resurgence of feelings felt like a bucket of cold water slapped him in the face. He remembered.

Every single detail of his life beside her, he remembered.

How she would mess with that specific lock of hair whenever she was embarrassed to ask him for something so menial. To spend more time with him, to hug him for a while longer. To follow her into a place she thought secret but was actually a garden he had spent his childhood in.

He had never told her about that, actually; always relishing on her proud smile to show him this or that detail of the secluded and forgotten place. She had always been so pure, so eager, so...

So lovely.

His eyes almost hurt with emotion, his entire body struggling to keep his heart at bay.

Just another moment.

Just another moment beside her.

She meekly looked up to him, still holding that damned and adorable lock of hair, "Alfonse?" she asked in her sweet voice, making Líf shake in his innermost core.

He couldn't let these feelings overflow; he couldn't let them take control.

But, by the gods, he had to, he needed to spend another moment, another second in her presence.

"Only... until the end of the corridor." He managed to say, his voice strangled. "I know you wouldn't run away," he said softly, his voice so low Kiran barely understood the words.

To hear his name in her voice again; to be the target of her meek and embarrassed gaze; to witness how the smile would slowly be born in her face and be the sole spectator of its wonderful display.

"Thank you so much! But, um, there's something else..." She hesitated, never letting go of her hair as he crouched to open the chains. She held both hands over his arm, making all of the alarms inside his head and dormant heart ring. "I... Can I hold your arm while I walk? It's been almost a week and I don't think I can walk properly just yet."

His heart twinged, his eyes almost burning with emotion.

He wanted to touch her, to embrace her.

He wanted to welcome the feelings that were forcefully ripping his chest apart.

Oh, what he wouldn't give to be the Alfonse who had summoned her! To be the one who would live his days by her side!

"..." He nodded so faintly Kiran almost missed it, but the sound of her giggle only made him want to lay there a while longer, under the warmth of her hands.

"Thank you, Alfonse. I knew I could always count on you," she whispered giddily, struggling to pull herself on her feet after she was freed from the chains. "Oh, I mustn't forget this," she quickly wrapped herself around his cloak before going back to squeezing his arm for support, making him want to clutch his chest once more.

She was so small. So, very small. The cape that barely ruffled on the floor in his back dragged itself for many inches behind her small feet as they walked out of the cell.

Her limbs felt weak, but it felt oh so good to be able to walk again! She smiled all the way through their outing as short as it was, considering they just went around the block and back at her cell. Líf held the door as Kiran went inside, not wanting to break contact with him, but securely holding his cloak around herself. She wouldn't let him take it back from her, at least not yet.

She gave but one step inside and stopped in her tracks, her heart beating wildly in her chest. "Um, Alfonse. I- um, I meant what I said earlier." She pulled his cape over her head to hide herself and quickly hid under the other blankets in embarrassment.

Líf slowly lowered his head, feeling heat cover his cheeks for the first time in hundreds of years. He closed the door between them, the silent agreement of keeping her inside without chains nor locks making the both of them look forward to the next time they would meet.

The General of the dead walked at small paces to the exit, silently going up the stairs as his heart seemingly calmed down by itself, somehow confident in spending more time with Kiran inside that little space he selfishly started calling their own.

Yet, as soon as he stepped outside, the cold wind of reality slapped him awake, scaring away any flushed faces and uneven heartbeats: the Order of Heroes had picked up their pace and would reach the dungeon in the morning.

Líf's scouts had informed him that the Order was being led by the elite of its Hero Generals; accomplished individuals in their own world who combined their mettle to save their Summoner.

His chest fell once again.

They would arrive and save her, as he had planned -- he managed to hide her from Hel's attempt of ambushing their Order the previous week, and managed to keep her hidden for his own convenience. After the panic he felt the previous night, it should have been a blessing that the Order would catch up to her so quickly -- Hel wouldn't be able to pinpoint Kiran's location through Líf's awakening heart and she would be able to come back safely to her rightful place: beside the Alfonse she knew.

It should have been a blessing.

She would be happy. She would live.

Líf felt his eyes burn with unshed tears, his breathing uneven. His heart was feeling, his body was aching. The lingering warmth her hands left on his arm was long gone, but he wanted to believe it was still there.

He wanted to feel it until the rest of his days. He wanted to hear her voice, to watch her fumbling with her hair, to see her clumsily lead him to places he already knew of.

'I'll comfort you. Think of me as her. I'll accept your feelings.' Her words echoed in his mind.

It was wrong.

It was so very wrong. The deepest part of him that was still that good natured Alfonse screamed inside, wanting him not to entertain that idea: not to take advantage of someone who looked so much like the one he loved.

Looked so much like her it could actually have been her from another time -- from a moment's earlier in time before she was summoned to this world.

What if they were the same? What if she disappeared in his world only to reappear in this one?

"Wishful thinking," he snarked in spite of himself, frozen between the hill that he could see the Order from afar and the dungeon he could see in the distance on the opposite side.

Wishful thinking, and yet... His recently-awakened heart was still so weak. He couldn't- he hadn't the strength to talk back to it, at least not that soon.

He wanted her, he needed her.

If only for one night... If only for one single night they could be together; if only they could go back to being the Crown Prince of Askr and his beloved Summoner... if only for a moment, to hear her sweet voice calling his name by his ear again...

"No," he fought with himself until the end, despite his legs taking him back to the dungeon and down the stairs. "Only... only if she allows it." He found the perfect excuse to chain himself to. Only if she gives the first step.

He lingered in front of her door for a very long time, his hand hesitating by the handle. Inside, Kiran woke up from her restless sleep, seeing the blue glow that covered Líf's body from the window at the door. "Alfonse? Did something happen? It's... not dawn yet, is it?"

Ahh, her voice.

He opened the door soundlessly, stepping inside with difficulty. "No..." he whispered, crouching in front of her.

"What... happened?" She sat in confusion, watching how his expression turned from regret to contained emotion. She reached out to his mask, hesitating before actually touching it. "Alfonse?"

He felt the mask slip away under her fingers, the silent 'clop' of it being placed carefully on the stone floor being forgotten by his ears.

Once again Kiran looked at his hardened face and painful expression. She placed part of his long bangs behind his ears, touching her forehead on his. "Are you alright?" She asked, feeling his uncertain fingers intertwine in hers, his eyes closing as though he had finally found home again.

He wanted to, he needed to-- but he shouldn't.

"Your rescue is on the way. They'll be here by dawn." He reported, almost mechanically so, refusing to open his eyes and face her; wanting to dive into her warmth one last time before sending her back to where she belonged.

Kiran could see how much he struggled, how much he suffered to be chained under this curse. He longed for the woman he loved -- never to touch her again for death had seen them apart. Yet there she was, right in front of him, pulsating with energy.

With life.

"Won't you hold me?" She gulped as she wrapped both arms around his neck, holding his face into her chest. "I- I'll find a way to save you, Alfonse." She whispered as he widened his eyes, the warmth of her heartbeat filling his ears. "I want you to be with me, to stay by my side."

"Enough," he pulled her closer to him, one hand by her waist. "Don't waste your breath with empty promises. Don't fill my dead heart with useless hope." He huffed, nudging his nose on hers, their cheeks a mix of cold and hot as their breaths intertwined.

"It's not useless," she grabbed his hair with both hands, digging her nails into his scalp as she opened her mouth to welcome him. "But now's not the time for words."

She felt his cold tongue slip into hers, sending a mix of sensations down her throat and into her heart -- she could feel his cold hands lift her measle string shirt and reveal her breasts, shivering under his icy touch.

His kiss was long and hungry, the taste of hers the first thing he had had ever since losing his life, so long ago. Kiran moaned his name as he slowly placed her down the myriad of blankets, never wanting to part with her lips.

His hands travelled from her nipples to her waist, pulling up the miniskirt she wore to reveal her underwear. His feverish touch making her roll her eyes in pleasure, the mix of hot and cold making her shiver and pulsate inside.

For the first time in his after-life, Líf had to breathe heavily, pulling away from the kiss so as to fill his lungs with air once again. "Kiran..." he whispered her name lovingly, placing kiss after kiss on her lips, then on her jaw, following to her ear.

"Hnn- A-Alfonse," she bemoaned, huffing for air as her eyes lost their focus.

The curse changed colors once again -- from blue to red, then to his natural skin color. He tried not to feel, not to succumb, but rubbing his bare skin on hers, to feel her increasingly hot body shiver under his touch drove him into accepting the life he had been denying inside of him.

He had taken off his gauntlets without her noticing, his bare fingers, mixed with curse and real flesh, touching her over her underwear.

"Ah!" She squirmed with pleasure, making Líf bite her neck so as to come into terms that he felt an erection rising.

Blood was coursing through his veins once again -- he felt his body alive, even though the blue curse still shone through his bones. He felt it pulsate urgently, craving to be engulfed in Kiran's warmth, in her hottest insides.

His cold fingers slipped into her panties, reacquainting themselves with her layout -- they moved as though he had never forgotten her body in the first place; touching and nipping at the places he remembered she enjoyed the most.

Kiran shivered under his touch, her body hot enough for both of them as he inserted one cold finger into her: it was a magical sensation to say the least. It was cold, but he moved with swiftness and tenderness, making her twitch around him and suck him in with everything she had.

"A-Alfonse," she said so meekly she almost begged, pulling him towards her for another feverish kiss. This time he felt like he didn't need to hold anything back: he dove into her taste and sucked into her tongue, wanting to claim it all for himself.

For all eternity, even if it only lasted one night.

His fingers kept going in and out of her, pleasuring her until she couldn't make coherent words anymore; she simply drunkenly called his name and nipped at his lips, wanting more.

Her body wouldn't be satisfied with only fingers.

"P-please," she begged for the third time, her lower body shivering with pleasure, almost at the breaking point. "Alfonseee," she cried out as he massaged her clitoris, relishing on her weak voice by his ear.

"Kiran," he called her name over and over, licking the nape of her neck and leaving mark upon mark on her. "Hah, hah... my Kiran." He huffed as he released his erection from his tight pants, feeling it bump on the thin, drenched fabric of her underwear.

Kiran gulped with anticipation, opened her legs further to welcome him inside of her. She panted, pulling his lips towards hers so they could share another long, deep kiss as he pulled her underwear to the side, prodding his erection in place.

"Alfons-aaahnn...!" She cried out loudly, his might much more than what she expected, her eyes rolling in pleasure.

"I lov-" he whispered under her moans, falling into her deaf ears as he finally declared the feelings he had locked away for so long. "Mine. My Kiran." He groaned in pleasure, his entire body regaining its living warmth once again.

Kiran felt his cold erection rip inside her, pleasing her in ways she never thought possible. The more he thrusted, the warmer it became, to the point of making her feel like she was on fire -- the fire of his feelings for her, the fire of her awakened feelings for him.

He thrusted deep and fast, pounding at her sensitive spot as though he had done it a thousand times before. Helpless to his might, Kiran simply dug her nails into his scalp again, taking everything she had to cling herself into reality, her body almost transcending due to pleasure.

She felt her heart being poured with his tenderness and love; her body being showered by his might and strength. Her insides shook and twitched with pleasure as he went in and out, in and out.

The rhythm of their love-making made Kiran let out the most memorable moans Líf had ever heard her utter, his mind dutifully committing everything to memory for the future.

He never thought his body, devoid of feeling for so many decades, could reach a climax once again, but he wouldn't mistake that feeling for anything: his body shivered, his senses snapped, his mind wanted to mindlessly thrust until Kiran screamed his name and only his.

She felt her own approaching as he accelerated his movements, her body never wanting it to stop, but needing to share that moment with him -- together, they felt their bodies shiver and twitch in pleasure at the same time, his fluids being released freely inside of her.

Panting, as her lower parts pulsated with pleasure, Kiran's arms fell limp on the side, the rough love-making taking all the energy she had managed to build up that previous day.

"Alfonse..." she moaned weakly as consciousness evaded her, her body still wanting to be ravished more and more. "I'll bring you to our side... I swear I will."

Smiling for what it felt like the first time, Líf picked the adored tuft of hair Kiran always messed with and kissed it, never wanting to pull out from inside of her. "I will not believe such wishful promises, but I'll hold onto this night for the rest of my days... my Kiran."

[avi-stella]

Unfeeling Warmth | Líf x Reader

》 RATING: Teen | GENRE: Drama(?) | 334 words 》 SUMMARY: Death does not fear you. 》 A/N: Originally written as a Líf x OC ficlet to accompany this.

The General of the real of the dead holds Sökkvabekkr to your unflinching face, its sharp edge of the blade breaking the skin of your cheek. Blood forms from the wound before it drips down your cheek in small droplets. Asides from the uncomfortable grimace of pain, your face remains neutral, almost apathetic.

Líf stares down at you, and neither of you two speak for a moment. He should kill her, he thinks vaguely to himself. His "Queen" had ordered it, but for a reason unknown to him, he pauses. "...You."

A beat passes before he continues with a question, "Are you not afraid?"

"No," you breathe out. You almost didn't hesitate with your response. With a subtle movement, you tilt your head to the side, an action akin to that of a curious child. "...Should I be?"

"You will die," Líf answers. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps you do not realize the gravity of your situation. In truth, though, he doesn't know why he still hasn't taken your life yet.

"...And?"

Although Líf's expression remains unchanged, he does feel something akin to surprise as your nonchalant answer. You then take a few steps closer to him, and the man stops himself from taking a step back. To retreat now would be an embarrassment.

With an unchanging expression, you lift your hand up to his face, or rather, the small patch of skin of what's left of it. You stroke the mask upon his mouth, brushing aside dull strands of hair. It's... warm. You, who has such dead eyes but is still very much alive... feel warm. It is a feeling that the progenitor of Askr has long since forgotten.

When you are met with nothing but silence, you decide to speak once more. "So you're the first king of Askr that Alfonse has told me stories about. If you don’t mind me asking, if you are a king so highly praised in legends and history, then why are you in Hel?”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this work, you can help support me by liking/reblogging. You can also commission me or donate to my ko-fi(.com/avistella)! Masterlist

[megzarie]

My in-game summoner just casually flirting with the Alfonse alts.

[lucinalu219]

Imagine you and Eir scouting the area but then Líf appears

(A/N): It would be cool if Líf is actually Older Alfonse in disguise. In this imagine, he is Alfonse from the future. So many questions I wanted to ask!!! GIMME THE NEXT CHAPTER FEH!

(A/N/N): This was posted before the next chapter revealed Líf is Alfonse.

Update: Had to repost this again since it won’t let me edit this. Tumblr mobile is being stupid for me. Sorry for the inconvenience!

.

.

No.

No.

There’s no way.

How?

How did the General of Hel find you and Eir?

Why was he by himself?

Maybe this is some kind of trap.

You checked that you two weren’t being followed.

Eir: “Líf.”

The first king approaches the both of you slowly.

You: “No. There’s no way.”

You know that you need Alfonse and the others to be here.

Camp was only a few miles away. You didn’t want Líf to chase you both down. You didn’t want him to know where you guys are staying.

You might get some answers from this man while waiting for assistance.

You didn’t want him to escape or to hurt him.

You just wanted to interrogate him.

You: “Eir, I need you to go get help while I deal with this guy.”

Eir: “What? I’m not leaving you. We need you alive Summoner.”

You: “Eir, I know what I’m saying sounds stupid but I need you to go get help!”

Luckily, you have enough orbs to summon. You held Breidablik tightly. Hearing the sound of Eir’s pegasus flying further made you feel anxious.

Here you were facing against Líf. The last time you encountered the general of an army by yourself was with Veronica. You mentally winced at the thought of her popping your head off like a doll.

And now you were prepared to be in that same situation again.

Waiting for the man to strike you down anytime

What you heard was a chuckle from the man.

Is he making fun of me?

It was soft since his mouth is covered by his mask.

The way the blue-haired man spoke doesn’t sound like he’s underestimating you.

It sounded like..he was happy. Maybe relieved?

The former Askr king chuckled and his eyes softened, looking at you.

Líf: “You’re still intelligent and reckless just as I remembered.”

Just as he remembered?

Have you two really met somewhere?

It couldn’t be.

He wasn’t very talkative when you and the others met him.

Why was he now?

To you of all people.

You: “What do you know about me? We never met. You’re working for Hel.”

You pointed your divine weapon towards him.

You: “I may not know how to fight with a weapon but I can still summon heroes to defeat you.”

Líf: “I know you more than you think.”

You: “No! Just stop!”

You bombarded him with questions about Hel, hoping to find the solution of defeating her. All he did was stand there, not saying a single word to you.

The next thing he did made you shocked. The undead general held Sökkvabekkr and threw it aside, raising his hands up in surrender.

Líf: “I will not lay my weapon on my beloved.”

Beloved!?!?

That’s what Alfonse calls you when you two are alone.

You: “Don’t call me that! The only person who does is…!”

Unless.

No.

You: “Stay away from me!”

You started to feel hesitant but kept your grip on Breidablik. Finger on the trigger.

You: “I’m warning you!”

He slowly walks to you with his hands up still.

Líf: “ You were very mysterious when I met you.I remember you telling me stories about your world that I felt so intrigued by you.”

He takes another step.

Your hands were shaking.

Another step happens.

Líf: “After losing Zacharias, I told myself that I wouldn’t get attached to anyone. Particularly you.”

Your mind couldn’t process of what he just said.

You were confused.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say.

You looked down.

Líf: “The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I fell in love with you.”

You felt an armored hand on cheek, lifting your head up to view him. While the other one slowly lowered your hands that are still holding onto your weapon.

You: “I…..”

You froze.

You were still speechless.

The red-eyed man took off his mask and looked into your eyes.

Líf revealed his face to you.

He looks like Alfonse but older and the way he looks is as if he been through something traumatic.

Before asking if he is actually the Askr Prince, Líf dips his head low and feverently presses his lips against yours.

Your senses went crazy.

This is Alfonse!

You recognized how the way he held you face when you both steal kisses from each other.

You know how his kisses felt soft but passionate.

He pulls himself away from you, his hand still on your cheek.

You: “Alfonse….”

You gave him a sweet smile.

You: “It really is you.”

Líf nodded his head.

A blush tinges on his cheeks. He returns you with a small smile while rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb.

Líf: “How I missed you. ______”

He gave you a loving kiss, holding you close. Not wanting to let go.

[rainy-fe-love]

Here comes a thought:

Was Líf forced to watch the summoner die?

[shiro-the-tired-writer]

So I think we can all agree

That the ship between the summoner and Alfonse is canon, right? Seriously, after the reveal trailer and all the times Líf interacts with us in game? It's abundantly clear that Alfonse x Kiran is indeed. CANON.

[keikaru]

heaven’s grief

Líf x Summoner. Drabble. Part of an unfinished/discarded work but I liked this one scene. Might post the rest later (?). Enjoy some angst!

--

He died by the summoner’s hand.

In the heat of the moment, he hesitated.

No. It was more accurate to say he allowed the summoner an opening to strike.

Perhaps, he thought weakly, as he staggered to his knees and sank to the cold ground, love was always attached with a price. He knew his sacrifice was out of love—love for the summoner in this life.

Oh, but what a price to be paid. Líf winced. The admission for a second chance was too much.

The blade that pierced through his core did not hurt. He was immune to the pain of fatal strikes, as feeling pain now would be a grim reminder of his fading mortality. What mattered now was that the summoner was safe. They were safe in this world and he was no longer bound to Hel’s contract.

“Do not cry, summoner,” Líf managed out. “I…deserved this.”

A hooded figure doubled over him, cradling his arm to their chest. They felt warm, oh so warm and filled with the nectar of life.

Tears overflowed in their eyes and shimmered like crystals. Líf blinked, slowly. “I…shall take my leave first. I have played…the part of the fool so well…So please, don’t cry. Prince Alfonse will look after you. You…have my word.”

The edge of his vision became hazy. He heard a scream, a muffled sob. How could he placate the summoner in this state? With much difficulty, his hand trembled as he reached toward their face. Gently, he touched their cheek and brushed away a tear. But only more was replaced in its awake.

Somehow, Líf felt calm and composed during his last few moments.  

“Don’t cry. It’s…okay.”

“Líf….Líf! LÍF!”

Before he closed his eyes, he never realized how beautiful the color gray was. For without gray, how could he have known color? Finally, his eyes fluttered shut. He wondered if it was the rain or tears that fell on his face.

(Master post of drabbles)

[mornyavie]

Glossary of references in The Bifrost Incident

 It’s Very Long and yet also not really complete. If there are any questions / clarifications I can add, or I’ve messed anything up and need to fix it, let me know!

The tl;dr is that nearly every word in the album draws from either Norse mythology or the Lovecraft / Cthulhu mythos, directly or indirectly.

@moony221b here’s that glossary that I promised forever and a day ago.

Edit: I decided to create this document of annotations (x). Lyrics taken from Genius; I’m not totally sure how accurate they are, but hopefully they help get the point across! Again, questions and complaints both welcome.

Arcomba

I can’t find anything on this, would be interested if someone knows.

Asgard

One of the Nine Worlds, specifically the one where most of the Æsir (the subset of gods most associated with humans, including the well-known ones like Thor and Odin) live.

Thus Asgard is the planet on which the most powerful inhabitants of the Yggdrasil system, and those named after the gods, are found (though the subjugation / colonization relationship does not exist in myth).

Azathoth

This one’s from Lovecraft; Azathoth is the greatest of the Outer Gods, often served and worshiped by other gods themselves. Often described as mad, a demon, a sultan, or putting it all together as the Mad Demon Sultan. Resides at “the center of the universe,” where he appears as some sort of vast, amorphous, bubbling, roiling mass of “nuclear chaos.” (Nuclear probably refers to center, not nuclear power, which didn’t really exist when this was written). Servants about him play drums and flutes.

Mentioned briefly as the train travels through the Bifrost and into his realm, and a lot of the narration in those few verses draws directly from Lovecraft’s descriptions.

Baldur

The god of light and beloved by all, Baldr was killed by Loki in his final betrayal of the gods. After the murder Loki was tracked down and imprisoned, and will escape at the start of Ragnarok. In particular, Loki used a spear made of mistletoe... or, in the album, missile two. And tricked another god into throwing it, which I think is mimicked in the distance and impersonality of the crime. Look up more of his story if you want, it’s interesting and important, but that’s the relevant info here.

Bifrost

The rainbow bridge that the gods use to travel between worlds. 

Which is, of course, directly analogous to the wormhole-ish extradimensional-ish space of “shifting, undulating hues” through which the train travels.

Edda

The Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda are the names given to two pieces of literature that are most people’s main source for Norse mythology. The Prose Edda was written by Snorri Sturluson around 1200 to teach his (mostly Christian) contemporaries about the mythology and mythological references that made up a big chunk of Norse literature. The Poetic Edda is a set of poems that serve as a major source for Norse tales.

This is partially just a way to connect our hero Lyfrassir Edda to the Norse traditions, but also definitely a reference to their (presumed) role as the main “recorder” and source of information to get out of the Yggdrasil system.

Fate

Honestly the way the Mechanisms deal with fate in general is very interesting and arguably sometimes quite Nordic... but in particular, Bifrost Incident references fate or destiny a number of times and features a number of situations where the outcome is fixed and can’t be changed, but you have to fight anyways: “Killing me won’t save your world” “I don’t care” or how Loki and Sigyn can’t stop the train, but can only delay it. A lot of Norse tragedy revolves around people heading into battle knowing that they’re doomed and fighting anyways, or around the cycle of conflict that marked the cultural requirements for avenging insults. And the myth cycle is notable for the fact that the gods know, explicitly, exactly what Ragnarok is, what’s going to happen, and how they’re going to die, but will fight in it anyways. 

Inevitability and helplessness in the face of what you can’t possibly understand, let alone fight, which is a depiction slightly sideways of the Nordic version, are very Lovecraftian themes.

Fenrir

A wolf, child of Loki and father of Skoll and Hati, who was chained by the gods (particularly by Tyr, who placed his hand in the wolf’s mouth as “hostage” to assure him they would unchain him later, and lost the hand). He will break free at Ragnarok to join the battle against them and kill Odin.

With his association with monsters and with Loki, it’s fairly clear why he was aligned with the resistance movement. He’s serving “five life sentences” as a reference to his being chained, and the whole motif of the train’s journey being hijacked for a prison break certainly references the various characters who will be freed or break free as Ragnarok begins.

Frey

The brief reference of Frey being killed by the raging fire of the sun, with “no weapon, no defense,” is a direct translation of the god’s role in Ragnarok, when he will be killed by Surtr. Frey gave away his sword for the opportunity to woo his eventual wife, and so will be armed only with a stag’s antlers in his final combat. Also called Freyr.

Freya (“weeps tears of red-gold”)

Like her brother Frey (and yeah, these names get confusing), Freya is associated with harvest and fertility, though unlike him she also gets battle. In the song she weeps red-gold tears at the death of her husband Odr, which in myth she is said to do when her husband is absent. Also called Freyja.

Garm

Garm is another wolf, who guards Hel’s gates. He also breaks free at Ragnarok, and his howling heralds its coming. As in the album, he will fight and kill Tyr. Also called Garmr.

Hati

There’s a lot of wolves in Norse mythology. This one is a child of Fenrir. He chases the moon across the sky, and will swallow it when Ragnarok comes.

Mentioned briefly only as one of the resistance members on the train.

Heimdall

Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, with keen eyes and foresight, and guards the Bifrost as the entrance to Asgard. He will blow his horn to summon the gods to the final battle during Ragnarok, and he and Loki will kill one another. Also called Heimdallr; you’re probably noticing a pattern. It’s a grammar thing.

Mentioned as guarding the train and “doing his part.” His dying screams initiate the train’s destruction and echo throughout it, which presumably recalls the horn thing.

Hel

Another daughter of Loki, and, as the name will imply to English speakers, a guardian of the dead. She refuses to give Baldur back to the world of the living after Loki kills him. Also the name of the realm in which she resides, and to which go those who die of disease or old age. Doesn’t necessarily have the same bad-punishment connotation as modern Hell. I don’t know whether there’s any indication of what she herself is doing in Ragnarok, but many of her people and associates are certainly fighting against the gods, and I’m fairly certain the ship Naglfar, which carries Loki and his allies to Ragnarok, sets sail from Hel.

Hel as a prison colony clearly references the various characters the gods have chained or otherwise imprisoned (though, in myth, not all within Hel) as well as her alignment with “other side” during Ragnarok, and the jailbreak the resistance members are planning recalls the breaking of all these bonds as Ragnarok begins.

Hoddmimis

The woods in which Líf and Lífþrasir (see Lyfrassir) will shelter to survive Ragnarok and the various disasters accompanying it. 

So, good news! We can be marginally assured of Lyfrassir’s survival after taking shelter at the mining-colony of Hoddmimis.

Jormungandr

The world serpent, which lives in the seas and encircles the earth. Will arise during Ragnarok, causing great floods, and fight Thor; Thor will slay the serpent, but in turn the serpent’s poison will cause his death, after he staggers “nine steps back.”

Thor’s fight with Odin-turned-serpent is pretty clearly analogous to this, especially the taking nine steps to the window before destroying it with his hammer, resulting in both their deaths. I don’t think there’s any mythological basis to Odin turning into the serpent, though

Kvasir (“blood drained out”)

Kvasir was a very wise man/god and the originator of poetry. I’m leaving out a fair amount of his birth and life; the important information here is that two dwarves who were jealous of his knowledge tricked him, killed him, drained his blood, and mixed it with honey to make mead. Any who drank of the mead gained the gift of poetry / scholarship; eventually the gods stole it.

I’m not sure if there’s a reason they decided to specifically describe him as a resistance member, but there’s a clear parallel in Kvasir’s blood being drained and used to power the train, especially with the language of glyphs and sigils providing power.

Loki

Ah, Loki. Male in the general canon, though not without genderbending (he turns into a mare and gives birth to Fenrir, Hel, and Jormungandr, for instance). Inasmuch as the Norse myths we have can be organized into a “chronology,” you could do it (in my opinion) along Loki’s path from a mostly benevolent trickster god whose antics occasionally cause trouble to a genuinely malevolent figure. Associated with wit, magic, and trickery. Despite how modern lore (I suspect influenced by Marvel) often portrays Thor and Loki as brothers and children of Odin, in the myth Loki and Odin are bonded as blood-brothers. But Loki also often appears alongside Thor. As mentioned, parent of three of the main figures of Ragnarok. In the “final” myth, he jealously arranges the death of the god Baldr, who was loved by all; then he appears at a feast, where he exchanges insults with the other gods. This is the last straw; they capture him and chain him to a stone, over which they tie a serpent. Venom drips from the serpent’s fangs, causing him great agony. His wife Sigyn stays by his side, catching the venom in a bowl, but when she is forced to leave for a moment to dump it out his thrashing causes earthquakes. He will break free at the start of Ragnarok and sail to Asgard, where he and Heimdall will kill each other.

Hopefully that’s enough to give you a good background for Loki’s role in the album... it’s pretty clear why she’s framed as the opposition to the gods and the “leader” of the resistance movement, as a call to her role in Ragnarok. Her association with magic and trickery make sense for her being the “expert” in the twisted Lovecraftian “science” that produces the train. It also parallels her role in myth; her actions often get the gods into trouble, but they just as often need her wit and knowledge to get them out of it, as Odin needs her knowledge despite her taking action to destroy the train. And the setup at the end - drip, drip, drip, her face twisted in pain, her wife beside her, her “release” heralding the end of the world - precisely echoes the language of her bondage in myth; though her mind-destroying imprisonment by Odin also invokes this.

Lovecraft(ian)

A highly influential horror writer from the early 20th century. He’s largely credited with the creation of the creation of the “cosmic horror” genre, a type of horror which emphasises a vast, unknowable, uncaring universe against which we cannot hope to even begin to fight. His ideas and the gods / demons / creatures he created form the basis of the “Cthulhu mythos” or even “Lovecraft mythos,” which today is a sort of standard set of assumptions on which writers can build. Lovecraftian themes of apocalypse, inevitability, and powerlessness are highly prevalent in the album. Several of the gods in this mythos are used; in particular, Yog-Sothoth (see below). Also, a lot of the general description (madness, roiling chaos, undulating colors) draws from his distinctive vocabulary that remains staple of the genre. It’s worth noting that Lovecraft was a horrible and very racist person, but the genre today is widely used by people who are not terrible.

Lyfrassir

Líf and Lífþrasir in Norse mythology are the two humans who will survive Ragnarok and rebuild humanity; a hopeful sign for our album’s protagonist!

Midgard

In Norse mythology, the “middle” world where humans live. Earth.

Nagthrod

I don’t know this one.

@acorn-mushroom pointed out that it may be a mis-transcription of Naglfar, the name of the (ocean) ship which will carry Loki and his followers from the shores of Hel to the battlefield at Ragnarok. It’s made of dead men’s nails.

Odin

The king of the gods in Norse mythology. As the god of both wisdom and madness, Odin’s role in the album as a researcher and technological ruler whose discoveries drive her slowly mad is both very Lovecraftian and a reasonable leap. I could say a lot about the figure of Odin, but I think this character is one of the most divergent from the myth, in detail if not in role.

Odr

Óðr is Freya’s husband.

Outer gods

A Lovecraft thing referring to several of the most horrible and powerful gods, including Yog-Sothoth.

Ragnarok

The apocalypse, basically, in Norse mythology. Proceeded by various catastrophes, especially a very long winter, mentioned in the album, culminating in a great battle between the gods and their enemies, and resulting in the death of the majority of gods and other creatures of the world.

Ratatosk

A squirrel who runs up and down Yggdrasil, carrying messages between some of the tree’s other inhabitants and sowing discord. The Ratatosk Express links the worlds of the Yggdrasil System, and causes “discord” in the resistance’s opposition to it.

Sigyn

Loki’s wife. See Loki for her role in his imprisonment.

Skoll

Sköll in Norse mythology is the wolf that chases and will someday eat the sun. Association with Fenrir (another wolf) and other monsters motivates his inclusion in the list of resistance members.

Thor

A Norse god, associated with war, lightning/thunder, strength, and in general sort of... common people, as opposed to Odin’s association with kings and royalty. Prone to anger, which makes sense with his depiction as a volatile military leader in the album. He is heavily associated with his hammer mjölnir, hence jokes about “throwing a hammer in the works” and whatnot. Often associates with Loki, both as friends and as enemies as Loki progresses from a mostly-harmless trickster to actively opposing the other gods; thus how in the album he and Loki were once friends. See above for his death fighting Jormungandr.

Tyr

Another Norse god associated with war. He sacrificed a hand to bind Fenrir, and will be killed by Garmr during Ragnarok, both events referenced in the album.

Yggdrasil

The world-tree of Norse mythology, which supports the nine worlds of the cosmology. 

Yog-Sothoth

An Outer God of Lovecraftian mythos; also called the Gate and Key. It is associated as sort of the substance of time and space, binding together the cosmos. A lot of the description during the Ragnarok sequences draws directly from the “canonical” descriptions of this deity, and the invocation spoken by Lyfrassir in Red Signal draws from a story about this creature, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward.

[mecharlie-fox]

Haha I'm screwed. Lif x Summoner/Reader prompt.

I said prompt but it ended as a one shot. Haha. Screw me.

I was listening to "Until the End" from RWBY Vol. 7, now I'm not in the fandom anymore but there are still some scenes and songs worth listening/watching. Ozpin's final monologue from that volume is the dialogue I used for my Lif tribute because it fits him. How fear has consumed him even after his said failure, it just goes deeper and deeper the more he struggles to be free from the gods and the more determined he becomes to bringing his loved ones back. It's the same with Thrasir.

But what of the Summoner? The person who has the sole ability of controlling worlds with a single relic.

For unknown reasons, you survived. You don't recall anything but the void, as if you were sleep walking and you didn't know how to wake up. You remembered the void and only the void. The beings around you were nothing more than strangers, 'Summoner' they called you before addressing your name. There was more than one summoner across the realms, and each summoner was different. From the relics, personality, bonds, life — each had their own contracts, some had their own relationships. Others served Embla, there were even some who are sworn into other worlds like Muspell and even Nifl. But you remembered nothing.

And when you finally did, all you could do was cry.

You cried when Sharena died.

You cried as Alfonse told you to run.

You cried when Anna died protecting you.

Hel was about to claim your soul, after all, you were the one who was cursed to die for nine days. Alfonse made a dangerous water, you put your trust in him but in the end, he lost. Hel won that gruesome day.

On a last ditch effort, after sending your heroes home — as Anna and the order fought outside of the library where you barecaded yourself, you made a ritual circle. It as if by instinct, you knew what to do. Or unknowingly, someone was telling you to do.

You cried as you know what you were about to do.

You cried because it was the only way to escape Hel.

You cried because you know that you will never come back the same.

When the door bursted open, Hel was standing before you, smirking at her own success. The Summoner of the realms will be hers to control, such power, such genius, it was no wonder the gods were willing to wage war over you. You wreck havoc wherever you go, destruction awaits to those who stood by you. Alfonse and the rest... were proof of that.

A dagger was all you had in your hand. You know you could kill Hel with a single blast of your relic, Breidablik. But a voice told you that... that wasn't your destiny. It was for someone else. Silently you obliged the will of the voice.

You cried because you didn't want to be a weapon. Not again.

You cried because you didn't want to go back to that dark place called Nidevillr.

You cried because you broke a promise to them. To Alfonse. To Sharena. To Anna. And to Eir... yes... Especially Eir who you promised she'll have a home after this war.

But then you came to realize that this is what he would want out of you. Fear.

He wanted fear to break you to obedience.

He wanted fear to break your will.

He wanted fear to make you a weapon.

"There is no escaping this time, Summoner." Hel's voice was cold and merciless. Ready to kill you as she killed Sharena. "Alfador demands your soul."

You stood on the circle you drew, removing your glove as you held the dagger on the other hand. You'd rather be a lost soul than be a Summoner without a will. To be alive and be treated as a weapon... That's not living anymore.

"If he wants it," you replied, pressing the dagger against your neck as you looked into Hel's shocked golden eyes. "Tell him to come get it himself."

He cried when Sharena died.

He cried when Anna died.

He cried when his actions caused you to kill yourself.

Alfonse... No, Líf's greatest regret was giving you no choice but to kill yourself rather than to be caught by the enemy. In his case, he made a contract with Hel to bring you back. To bring everyone back. As if nothing happened.

But unknowingly, you were alive. Somewhere, across the void in which you feel no pain. A void in which you desperately want to see the light, but instead of hope, you feel nothing but grief whenever you see the sun.

You feel grief whenever Alfonse would come and accompany you to patrols.

You would feel grief whenever Sharena asked you to come with her to the village.

You would feel grief whenever you face Commander Anna at the war table.

You feel grief as you looked into Eir's eyes, as she remembered the tragedy that fell upon you.

But you felt hope when you saw this... Other Summoner. This Summoner was different from name to personality. They were nothing like you, but similar in a sense of determination.

In this world. You were bound to the Summoner as a Hero, but you wondered which part of you is even a Hero. You know that outlanders like you and this other Summoner, do not belong in worlds like this.

You had a war with destiny and there was no sign of it ending. Not yet.

You saw Lif in the battlefield and immediately knew he was your Alfonse. You knew that fate had different plans with you both. As he was bound to the gods, you were bound to the Summoner. You had the Summoner fight this one, as you merely watched from the shadows and be useful in silence.

Fate will have you reunited again. But not here. Not now. You knew that you will meet at this journey's end. Once the dust has settled. And then one day, he will understand .

After all, you promised that you will be there until the end.