#tyr's never a menace how could you

[tiredassmage]

and a little theron to round out the thursday

[shade-without-color]

Stolen Chapter 5: The realm that was lost

Note: So hello again!, apologies for the delay, as the past few weeks I have some fatigue due to dealing with real-life stuff (ETC crazy big events) and me focusing on Icarcus the novella editing. Thanks for staying by me through all my craziness, so the next chapter will be the last of that fanfic which I will just focus on editing my novella and shorter drabbles. Of course, I have something for Kratos and Faye coming up...

If you are wondering if it is going to be published on fanfiction, I am going to do this chapter and next together once I am completed with the next chapter, as usual feedback and comments are always appreciated.

All that is left from that brief conversation with the tricky Norns, but a reflection of water that ripples that moved back and forth. Mimir heaved slightly “Seems our sisters are interested in giving us a hard time…” He nodded silently to the pair “Come let’s make our next move…” They walked to Tyr's temple. Atreus seems to walk calmly to the pathways. He looked over the changing landscape of the Lake. Sigyn ran towards the travel room with Atreus, as he pushed the doors out upon the hulking room.

“Well do you remember what the sisters said to you…”

Sigyn nodded quietly, as she walked towards the travel dial. In her heart she mentioned the word “Breath…” and somehow she swung gently back to the following tower. She could glimpse at the rune of the tower. She could recognize that word. It was nature, the one which connected the entire world in a palm of their own hand.  And slowly the roots moved back and forth to their destination. And soon Sigyn could feel the rush of energy coming back and forth in the travel room.

“I wonder how Freya managed to get back to her homeland to set Father, thought Odin laid a curse on her.”

Mimir shook his head "Not quite much…maybe if she is ever cunning…I know who she will go too.” Suddenly a click is heard at the distance. Atreus’ eyes widened slightly “Who…” somehow the leaves of the tree seems to stop growing, and roots slowly formed the path to that particular room which shimmered a strange copper-green glow.

“I wish you will never cross paths with him…”

“Why?”

Mimir heaved slightly “It is a long way up, but I will see my old friend Njord will agree to help us…"

Atreus quickly opened up the door to Vanaheim, a faint aroma of fern greeted the trio. “Seems we reached our destination quicker thanks to the sisters, though I will say the sisters are one step ahead which is good because…” Mimir watched the lands again shimmered eerily back and forth, it reminded him of a time which he walked with Odin to receive Freya as his bride (Though that time he had legs to walk those mossy paths), he still marvels at those lands with awe on its sun-kissed plants and unusual fauna created in their beauty. “It is a tricky destination and thankfully you have me…” He watched Atreus withheld his breath. “Otherwise you will be lost by its magic. A surefire way to keep unwanted visitors at bay. After all the Vanir do have magic which will be difficult to explain unless we…"

“What are you waiting for? let’s go…” Sigyn mummer quietly “I do not like the sound of it.” as she heard horrid buzzing noises, it is not as pleasant as the cricket sounds at Sif's lands. There she could see a pair of shimmering eyes following them. And it slowly grows into a figure she knew too well. Queen Sif. Her proud look haunting her mind. And that scorching heat makes her even more menacing than ever.

Mimir nodded quietly “And that my lady I agreed… we have to figure out what is the key fast…” Sigyn trembled slightly when she glanced at Atreus formed by the vines, who look slightly smaller then,  holding a small candle to a table lying a person, he perhaps lost someone he loved. She could feel him, sniffing from his tears as he let it linger for a moment. His voice slightly cracked, muttering the prayer “Lo do I see my mother…” She withheld her tears as he muttered those words again “Lo do I see my mother…”

“Is she ready?”

That urge to hold Atreus hand overwhelmed her. He seems to smile at adversity as she nearly caressed it. She heard a squishy sound from her feet. Mimir smelt something warm, “Come it is not too far…” and there they passed through the swamp. Sigyn cannot help but wince at the hem of her dress being dirtied. Atreus shouting the words, like Freya to remove the vines that blocked the way “Where are we…”

Somehow the smell of the sea came over them, and Mimir glanced at an old man dressing rather elegantly in grey and blue. His eyes staring at the reflection of the rivers. Somehow that summer heat did not bother him that much.

“Cross your fingers that my old friend, do not hate me, after all, they do have the right to hold a grudge against me alongside Freya…”

Sigyn’s eyes widened to see an aged figure. He seems to hold small trinkets in his hand, watching it glimmer and glow. “I knew I can recognize that voice…” Sigyn noticed the solemnity of his face, as he plucked the fish out from the vast lake.

“Hello, old friend…” Atreus did not hesitate to remove Mimir’s head from the back to show it to Njord. Njord withheld his shock, by biting his lip quietly. Mimir bowed his head quietly. Atreus know of the tales of Njord, but it seems contrary to the wildness of him. He embodies the sea with his intense gaze, watching over the ports at the distance.  “Heard that you may cause some trouble in Asgard, I am shocked that the great councillor is led to that…” Mimir nodded sadly “Aye Njord… I suppose you are unhappy with your daughter’s choices.”

Njord cleared his voice “It is all in a good placement in your side, her heart is for us to end a war, but it was that softness that failed her.” as he laid down the charms, all stepped in magic. “I knew that Odin was a crafty bastard.”

“That I agreed. So how is Freyr doing Njord, I suppose he is bent in hatred over his sister’s choice.”

“In contrary, much worse…”Njord shook his head slightly “He is angered by her banishment and he made that effort to protect women in our lands since he is unable to save her.” Njord cracked his fingers slightly “I suppose you want to find something…” slowly he parted the lakes unto a small building. Atreus walked sheepishly alongside with Sigyn as he heard him command the gates to open silently. Njord gestured Atreus to pass him the head. Atreus followed suit as he passed the reanimated head to that aged god. "Seems my daughter can still recall the Old Magic of reanimating things.." as Njord observed the cut of the head "At least you are no longer a rotting corpse."

“And I guess it is related to the person who holds your head.” as Njord glanced over Atreus who is admiring the sun-soaked landscapes.  Mimir nodded quietly. “It is about the boy’s father, you know a red and white god that came to your lands."

Njord grew silent upon that revelation. "Oh I wish Mimir, I only watched what justice could be done or not..." Njord swallowed slightly on that lingering thought. "If you are trying to exploit my magic like Odin's, you know how it ends..."

"Aye..."

Njord heaved slightly, as he brought them across to another building  "Perhaps you can find it in our library. " Njord opened the elevated doors gently "I never access it unless, it is desperate.. it was my son's archive. Not as vast as Tyr's vault but I assure you..." Mimir nodded slightly "that will be enough friend, can you pass my head to the lad please..."

"Which one..." Mimir nodded to Atreus whom by now kicking the leaves back and forth. Njord passed the head gently to Atreus. "Whenever you do, never touch a small book, my son created this with our magic, even I could never reverse it.."

“What beckons of that..."

He slowly spoke some magical words, which Atreus could recognize it as the calling of his light arrows "Something which I am bound to this world, not to tell you…” Njord walked through the library “But be warned.. he may not be as paranoid as Odin, but my son…”

Mimir mummer sadly “I know…” quietly he muttered something, and slowly it formed a glowing boar at the steps of the caving library. “Take this Mimir, this is one of the parting gifts between that alliance, a glowing boar. He will lead your way to Freyr, and please put sense on him, if you ever find…"

Atreus stroked the bristles of the boar. He closed his eyes quietly.

“Lead us the way Gullinborsti”

And slowly the boar slowly glowed amidst the darkness. It shimmered back amidst the light.

"How do you know his name..”

 Atreus smiled quietly as he followed his pathways “I always have an intuition over animals and I can sense that he is mourning over his former owner Freyr..” Sigyn pondered quietly about the silence. “He said that he recently came back from Alfheim, as we are descending down…” Sigyn’s heart sank slightly as he reinterpreted his words. “It seems he is pulled into something dark…so…”

Mimir shook his head slightly “It sounds like something but now we better find your father.." As they look through the archive, Sigyn glanced over a small book. "Hey let's check this out..." She slowly flipped through the words of a certain book illuminated by the boar's fur.

A voice came over her head.

“I am...”

For that moment Sigyn seen The Norns smile wickedly at Sigyn. “And you Aesir, what price you must pay to save someone...” She saw them bounded by a shimmering thread, flashes of a lonely life, Sigyn weeping tears into the floor. She glanced at that moment, which he watched two toddler sons walking by, that strange man looking at him proudly as he picked one up to teach him archery, following by monstrosities which she laughed. No there is another figure that caused her grief, a woman which he sided by, in the end. No. That cannot be. She held the bowl that poured to Atreus, as he writhed in pain. No, I cannot. But it came again, to a giantness and a strange man that she seen in the caves. They seem to watch the flames engulfed the lands, and the children so monstrous storming through the burning fields of Midgard. And that kind face she knew, become cold and frightening.

No, I cannot. “You are bound to him. You will face pain and suffering, along with his path.”

“...He is mine…”

Suddenly she saw a faint resemblance of the man with swirling tattoos fighting off the demons, and that moment Sigyn fell a rush to call out his name “Kratos….” He turned back to her, however, a giant wolf hovered its fangs  “Who are you…"

And soon a flood of energy came back to her,"Where am I...". The book becomes suddenly blank, except for a few illustrations of her wandering about. She gulped slightly. 

Would it be her fate?

"Are you all right..."

Cold sweat beaded down her forehead.

"I should be alright..." She used the boar, to lift herself up "I think we should move... this place is giving me the creeps..." At that moment she glanced at the stream of dead guards. "Light elves..." Atreus muttered quietly, as he could recognize those faces. "Let me take a look at that lad..." Atreus brought his head forward. "Ohhh... I think we are not alone in the archive..."

“My queen...”

Sigyn could recognize Sif even with her hair back to her glory. Her eyes crossed and her hands wrought her neck “You little bitch..”   Sif snatched the Bifrost from Sigyn's trembling hands. “I banish you to wander. You will find no warmth, no comfort...” Sif could hear a scream at the distance. Atreus reached his arrows and screamed loudly “I won’t let you hurt her!”

Somehow Sif glanced at the boar, quickly swiped it and let the arrows stabbed him. “To be damned the Vanir.”  And that next moment Sigyn felt a pulsing force, she glanced at the sea of realms surrounded by the horrors of Sif's mind. They all clawed for her blood. Sigyn barely stretched her hand to Atreus whom by now, protested angrily "No... no... no..."Her eyes streamed with tears as she saw a figure gnawing her leg. “I will come back! I will come back! I will come back…whenever you do.." Atreus tried to hold back the tears and soon she disappeared into the tear of the realm “Fight my queen for me. The battle is not…”

Her eyes widened in horror when she was flung out to the realm holes Sigyn was left alone in the blackness. Her tears welled up in fear. Her mouth dribbled with blood. Her mind flashed to nebulous forms, of her holding his hand amidst the secrecy of the forests. Her heart fluttered with pain as she watched another memory unfold, of Atreus fighting over the horrid forces, with Mimir yelling loudly "Right flank little brother."

She clasped her hands in prayer. “Whoever came to me, who came before me. Please protect...” and soon she passed out. Her mind writhed to Atreus.

A boy who watched her strength.

She is his.

Somehow she was in the sea of realms all shoot with galaxies and creatures untold, she glanced at the red and white god as Mimir described him vaguely. He indeed burnt of fire. A fire to find his way back to his loved one.  his eyes set towards the next drauger. Her eyes determined to bring Kratos out from the realm as he tears the monsters to shards  “Who are you woman?”

“Trust me..” Sigyn spoke hurriedly as she tosses Kratos out to the gaping hole. She could only see for that moment is the wave of enemies coming towards her. Her heart is no longer set on her queen Sif. Long the days where she will bow down in submission. The courage to rescue a boy from drowning in the lake. The courage for refusing to submit orders. The courage to fight a stranger's demons

For the reanimated head, a former councillor of Odin.   For that red and white stranger.

Her heart set to defeat it, for the sake of Atreus. She is her own strength, and this will carry her along the way.

“I will come for him," Sigyn spoke firmly.

Kratos heaved hesitantly as he stumbled upon the land, as he watched his son shooting electrical crows to Sif and her monstrosities in her mind. “No!". Sif stood herself highly against the corner. “We are not done yet..” Atreus stretched his bow to her “Oh I am…” Atreus stretches his quiver and screamed “Pruma!”

Atreus’ heart raced angrily “She did not do anything wrong! “ Kratos shielded him silently “Boy your emotions...”  And before long Sif used her spear to tackle Kratos and it fuelled his anger.  The blood from the boar made it even more difficult for them to hold their ground. Flames burnt over his body and soon he wrestles with the Aesir goddess, with all of the creatures caving over at his side. Kratos heaved angrily as he swops them with the Blades of Chaos and swirled it around the creatures. Mimir warning them about an incoming attack. All in the frenzy on the cramped corridor. Blood and bodily fluids swung around madly like an endless dance.

And soon Sif is down, Kratos glanced at the cold grin of Freya at the distance. For that moment Kratos could see her changed so quickly to something else. “See how love consumes you. Loyalty become last...” Sif laughed coldly before she heaved her last breath. Kratos shook his head quietly, he thought about Faye’s death and the mere reach of her presence.

"She is used..." Mimir regretfully mumbled at the body. "Her vanity drew her to that madness. And I think you will cause even more strife with Asgard thanks to Freya." Atreus heaved painfully as he rubbed against his arm, thinking about Sigyn "I am glad you are safe Father..."

Kratos grunted a little, as he tried to stabilise his body with the Leviathan Axe. and all of the sudden they saw a young man at the distance. His breaths seem haggard like Kratos expect that he stared over the bloodied corpse of the boar. "Take it, easy father.” Atreus mummer slightly as he held Kratos by the shoulders “as they watch the debrief slowly unravel in the archive.

Mimir remarked quietly “I agreed with the lad, we barely saved you. After all, this boar is our ally and perhaps a way out” Atreus’ heart sank knowing that Sigyn is lost in the sea of realms. Mimir looked sadly at her “Another is lost.” Atreus gripped the arm-ring quietly. “There is no way we can retrieve her back, Vanir magic…”

“I know…tricky…”

And that moment all hope seems lost. Expect for a glimmer in that young man's eyes, bright blue and filled with tears, groans softy fighting amidst the pain.  “Unless there is something that bounds in you, and her…” He mumbled softly.

"Let me see him.." Atreus swung his head to the lifeless body. "Sweet Ran's nets Master Freyr!"

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[writernotwaiting]

Fallen Angels--ch. 24

Chapter 24 – Before: “Break, Burn, and Make Me New”  Chapter Summary: In which a lot of stuff happens, which to summarize would be very spoilery. This chapter picks up action directly following those in chapter 23. This chapter could be considered a companion piece to chapters 5 and 6 which contain references/flashbacks to the events here. Warning for some completely predictable violence.  Rating: E for the story overall. If you are under 18, go read something else! Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Thor, Anna (ofc), Balder (might-as-well-be-omc), Amora (a might-as-well-be ofc), Odin, Elli (a stone giantess and might-as-well-be-ofc), Cyril (omc), Tyr Story Description: a post-apocalyptic, MCU-Norse mythos mash-up; science fiction/fantasy

I will re-blog with the tags.  I would be glad to add to or remove from the tag list at your request.

Bless you, again to @icybluepenguin, without whom this chapter would be a skeleton of its current self.

Ch. 1: Walking with unblest feet

 Ch. 23: Seven for a Secret Ch. 25: ?

 Threads began to unravel.

The book of the Norns was no longer in the main archives, but now housed in a restricted section. No access for Outlanders.

Loki found his time increasingly scripted by duties at court, and was unable to follow Amora to her estate for anything more than short trips.

Loki and Balder were overheard in a shouting match, and rumors began to circulate that Loki had threatened his brother.

Sigyn’s patients asked her to stop coming, afraid of the shadow that followed her.

Loki was sent on a restricted assignment to Utgard while Amora and Balder planned another holiday to her estate.

Sigyn paced.

Paced their suite of rooms.

Paced the public gardens.

Paced the halls.

Paced the kitchen gardens.

Paced the walls of the city.

Everyone learned to give her a wide berth.

Three weeks after Loki departed, Thor arrived at her door, shoulders thrown back in challenge, demanding Loki’s whereabouts.

Sigyn’s hackles rose at Thor’s aggressiveness and she squared off, straightening her own shoulders as she answered, “Playing fetch for your father—you know exactly where he is.”

“He should have returned by now. The terms of his commission were clearly delineated. Where has he gone?”

“I am his wife, not his jailer, Thor. How would I know?”

“If he has gone to cause trouble for Balder . . .”

“Why would he bother trailing after that parasite?”

Thor took a step into Sigyn’s space, fingers itching near Mjolnir. “I have heard of his threats.”

She stood her ground and hissed back, “What threats?”

“Loki has made it very clear that Balder is not safe.”

“Where did you hear this?” Sigyn’s mouth curled up in derision.

“My lieutenant informed me just yesterday. He said his wife—“

“His wife?!? And where did his wife hear of it? From her waiting woman? Who no doubt heard it from her sister, who sits in the hallways listening at doorways trying to glean whose daughter-in-law has cheated on such-and-such’s husband!” Sigyn stepped forward until their faces were inches apart.

“Do not mock my officers, Sigyn. They are honest and true-hearted.”

“They are gullible fools.”

Thor lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “Mark me, Sigyn, I will travel to Balder’s estate myself. And if I find your husband lurking about with mischief in his heart, it will not go well for him.”

“Oh! He’s my husband now? Not your brother? I knew your blood would tell eventually—Odin’s Golden Son! Where is the warrior who stood by my husband’s side as shieldbrother?” She stepped back then, and her eyes raked up and down Thor’s frame. “Your measure comes something short of the boy you used to be.”

Thor growled at her through clenched teeth and slammed the door as he stormed out, only to hear a great crash as something smashed into the door behind him.

Inside, Sigyn shook with frustrated rage and anxiety, her throat so tight it closed off her breath. Amora is setting a trap! Fly home, you stupid, stupid magpie. Stop chasing shiny things, and come home!

Come home he did.

In chains.

Dragged down to the prison by his brother as a dead weight, bruised and singed.

Not only was Sigyn not allowed to see him, the Allfather placed her under house arrest, not even permitted to leave her rooms.

No one could, or would, give her a clear accounting as to what had happened, just vague outlines. Amora’s estate empty. A portal to another world. A battle in a great temple. One rumor insisted Loki shot Balder with an arrow. Another that Frigga was run through as she threw herself in front of her youngest son. Someone else insisted that Loki had lured both Balder and Frigga to their deaths beneath a collapsing roof, or that they were cut to ribbons by shattered glass. Amora, by one account, was gravely injured trying valiantly to save her husband, while another described her as magically restrained and forced to watch her husband’s death.

Loki somehow responsible for all.

A trial to be held within days.

A mockery of a trial. Sigyn sat stiff in a chair gazing blindly out her window. How convenient they have a monster to blame.

 *****

Odin presided from his great throne, Thor on his right.

Einherjahr escorted a heavily bound Loki to the front of the courtroom, walls echoing with the dull thud of boots, the clanking of chains, and the murmuration of lookers on. Odin stood watching in silence for long minutes before he spoke.

“Loki, I find myself at a loss for words when I contemplate your deeds. I fail to understand the source of your bottomless resentment. I do not know from whence the roots of this bitterness grew.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed with spite, voice dripping with venom. “Do you truly not understand, Allfather?”

“Silence! I did not give you leave to speak.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up, but his eyes remained glacier hard.

“You stand accused of monstrous crimes, and the punishment shall match their enormity.”

“My guilt, then, has been pre-determined? I will be permitted no defense? Custom dictates that I at least offer some testimony.”

Amora screamed from across the courtroom with a maniacal ferocity — “Do not let him speak, Allfather! Do not permit his Jotun lies to profane your halls with slander.”

Loki wheeled around to face her, narrowed his eyes, readying his arsenal against her. Just as he drew breath to speak, however, the great echo of Gungir’s staff rang out against the marble steps. “Silence!” Light blinded the onlookers, and when the waves of sound finally died, Loki was on his back, tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, and Odin motioned to the guards to restrain him. “If you will not be silent on command, you will be silent on compulsion.”

Odin then called to an executioner who had been waiting in the shadows of the dais, a great bear of a man, larger even than Thor. In his meaty fist he held no axe. Instead he wielded a great needle threaded with thick, dark sinew.

It took four Einherjar to hold him still, but when he was at last hauled to his feet, Loki’s mouth was sealed shut — sutured with hideous black stitches, blood dripping down his chin and staining his shirt. Loki’s eyes fixed on Odin, while Thor kept his eyes anchored in the middle distance, jaw clenched tight to keep down the bile in his throat.

By then, Odin once again sat stiff upon his throne, ready to deliver his final sentence. “Loki, you have utterly rejected the beneficence offered you, preferring exile over a carefully chosen marriage, preferring the company of strangers over the glittering opulence of the home offered you by the parents who rescued you from certain death and raised you as their own child. You stole the time stone from the Norns, hiding it somewhere on that abandoned realm called Midgard. You refuse to reveal its location so it may be returned. You slaughtered my son, Balder, when he tried to retrieve it. Frigga . . .” Odin fairly roared out this last, “Frigga brutally cut down in the melee that followed.”

He paused here to regain his breath before finishing. “You are sentenced to silence, Silvertongue, silence and solitude until I see fit to release you, or until the end of days.”

The crowd murmured its approval, but for Amora it was not enough. She kept her eyes locked hungrily on the blood oozing from Loki’s wounds, and she goaded Odin further, “And what of his wife?”

Odin’s gaze slowly swung to her face, surprisingly cold. “She will remain where she is, under house arrest. Alone.”

Amora shrieked in panic, tearing her eyes from Loki to Odin, “That’s not enough! She is party to his crimes, and an untrained seider-wielder. She is dangerous!”

The Allfather held her stare in silence as though he had happened upon a new and particularly grotesque insect. After an uncomfortably long pause, he once more slammed the butt of his spear to the floor, “Sigyn will remain as she is.” He clenched his teeth, jaw working as he fought for control then turned to face the rest of the courtroom. “None shall harm her, but neither shall any aid come to her. This is my final word.”

Odin turned and strode out of the hall, even as Amora gathered herself for another attack. He didn’t wait to watch as his adopted son was forced from the room to his cell, didn’t turn to speak to his remaining son who stood half dazed next to him, didn’t pause to listen to the singing of the blood in his own ears.

*****

The staff fought over who would deliver the news to Sigyn. When no one else would go, a scullery maid in rags was tasked with delivering the news to Sigyn. Because the poor girl trembled so, Sigyn allowed her to retreat before she began to break things.

Hours later, the howling started. It was not just unnaturally loud; it was thunderous. It shook the walls. Thor heard the heartache from across the palace in his own rooms and could not sleep.

In the morning, Eir went to Odin, pleading, “Let me go to her. She will harm herself.”

His cold eye never blinked, but didn’t seem to see anything, either. “She is a healer. Let her heal herself,” his voice numb and flat.

Thor bowed his head, shaken by the trial and the ache at the heart of Sigyn’s screams. “Perhaps Sigyn did not know what Loki did. His wife should not be punished for the crimes of her husband.”

Odin’s head snapped around to face him. “Pitch mars all it touches. He is no longer my son. She was never your sister-in-law.” If there was an odd hitch to Odin’s pronouncement, Thor did not catch it.

Suddenly the howling stopped. Odin stood and retired alone to his study.

The palace itself seemed to breathe a deep sigh of relief, but in the depths of the prison, Loki felt a pressure building, felt the air press against his ears. He clenched his fists tight, knowing deep in his chest the reservoir of power that had been building over the last century, barely held in check by Sigyn’s dogged will to do for others. He wondered how that rage would manifest itself once released, and a fatalistic, maniacal, triumphant hysteria bubbled up within him, as he paced the perimeter of his cell with the neurotic intensity of a tiger locked in a too-small cage.

The following morning, the keening began.

As it started softly, it raised gooseflesh on the arms of the guards stationed outside Sigyn’s rooms, the air charged with potential energy. The sound might have been a mourning cry, but more fierce. It might have been the wailing of gulls, but more constant. It was a little bit like the cold winter wind whistling through bare cupboards or ill-caulked windows, but more powerful—the wailing cry of a banshee in the wasteland.

As it gathered strength, babes on the other side of the palace began to cry. Servants cowered in the depths of the kitchens. It beat on Loki’s heart even in his basement prison—he could feel its vibration through the stone of the foundations themselves and he sank to his hands and knees to absorb it.

As it built further, the guards stopped their ears, grown men began to sob, stopping in their tracks, paralyzed by grief.

Loki sat on the floor of his cell, his hands flat on the stone before him, absorbing the humming vibrations. Tears coursed down his cheeks, even as a smile split his face and pulled painfully at the stitches in his mouth.

They would not be not forgotten.

No one would ever forget.

But he also knew with same certainty with which he knew his bones could break that Sigyn was about to make a terrible sacrifice for their vindication. For their vengeance.

Because make no mistake, the truth would out, and Amora would pay.

As the keening neared its peak, light began to glow from beneath Sigyn’s door and stream out of her windows—white hot in its intensity.  Odin himself rounded the corner, face rigid with a mixture of fury and fear as the sound finally reached the top of its crescendo, a great flash blew the doors from their hinges, the force great enough to knock even the Allfather against the wall.

When he finally picked his way through the debris, he and his guards stood dumbfounded at the threshold — both at what they saw, and at what they did not. Wisps of white ash swirled across the floor. All else was burned clean — the furniture, hangings, books, everything. Red heat still radiated from the stone floor, but nothing was left.

And Sigyn was gone.

Not 30 minutes after Odin returned to his desk, servants gasping for breath ran to report, “All of the enforcers have collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” He demanded. “Explain.”

“They turned rigid, and fell over when touched. Some just broke to pieces like unfired clay.”

The Allfather sent to Amora for an explanation, but the mystery only deepened. “She is gone,” came the message. “Everything inside her rooms is like a great swirling storm had rushed through her apartments. All her things—books, clothes, toiletries, vases, everything—scattered in great heaps, fires smolder in the sitting room. Her handmaid seemingly turned to lifeless clay. Lady Amora is gone.”

Odin called on Heimdall, whose far-seeing eyes searched through the nine realms, there was no time to send out search parties. Even as Odin stood by his side, The Watcher reported a great flash on Midgard, centered on the temple where Balder and Frigga had been killed. The temple crammed with panicked mortals. A statue fashioned precisely like Loki, stood rigid in the sanctuary. Amora frantically destroying relics and setting fires throughout. Sigyn apparently trying to move the mortals from out of the temple basement.  Amora running down the stairs. An explosion.

Suddenly a tremendous flash, followed by a shockwave as great as an asteroid crashing into the earth’s crust. And then nothing. Silence.

Sigyn was gone.

Odin sank to his knees, Gungir falling with a crash to the observatory floor, Thor dumbfounded by his side.

Loki needed no messenger to tell him the news. As soon as the flagstones ceased their humming, he knew.

He knew, and his heart screamed.

His very soul howled with such force it shattered Odin’s spell. His mouth tore open, bleeding his anguish, because he knew. They had their revenge. The stone had been found. A trail would prove Amora’s guilt.

But Sigyn was gone.

[tiredassmage]

8, 12, 15, Tyr :^))c

Pain and suffering. xD Pain and suffering for the agents for 1,000 years kaldfndslkfs. I'm SO sorry that is IMMEDIATELY what my brain spat out reading these numbers, lmaooo

(I'm so sorry, Tyr, I love you, I swear.)

8. Bad memories/experiences.

[Hands over a plot summary of Imperial Agent] Cipher Nine's no good, very bad, terrible time at Imperial Intelligence. End transmission, lmao.

Okay, so yes, but also, I'll answer more specifically, lol. Spoilers for IA in (hopefully) broad strokes because if you know, you know, and if you don't, seriously, IA is my favorite story in the game, yes, I'm biased, yes I will still feed you IA superiority propaganda. *confetti shooter*

Anyway. The short version is I think his worst experiences relating to class story shenanigans are probably on Taris and Quesh. Taris because stars, he was going to help anyway, you don't need to jerk him around like an akk hound and Quesh because... not to spoiler your next question, but, stars, has Tyr ever hated anyone more than Hunter??? Probably not. There's also Dromund Kaas - particularly... eee, iirc, before Voss? The spiked message that affects the Watchers. And Shara. And that "stops his world," as he puts it to Vector. I mean, several incidents on Dromund Kaas, tbh. He's still mad they cut Imperial Intelligence at the knees at the practical height of wartime tension. He doesn't miss Lord Razer, ngl. Couldn't have happened to a nicer Sith, you know!!!!!!

(I threw in a meme, hold on, your cut's gonna go here because of the meme, lol)

And don't get him started on... I wanna say Ilum, but like, any time after the class story where you talk with someone and it's like "woe! Intelligence disbanded!" Tyr standing there like

And you know what they say, kids. If you have issues, take it up with your local governor Dark Councilor! And maybe they won't make stupid fucking decisions like that!

OH, okay, here I can give you. A non-class story answer, too, I just had to warm up my brain. Okay. So, if you've been around a bit, you might have heard me mention Tyr's dislike for Sith started at home with his sister, Mevais, and their mother - I've vaguely described that Mevais is your more loose-canon type. She's young, powerful, has an influential family, and she knows all of this. Tyr is not only an outsider living on the good graces of her father (he was 'adopted'), but he's also has no force sensitivity to speak of. Neither does her father, sure, but bold of you to assume she doesn't bitch with her mother while he's not there. Which is often when he's an officer.

She's not physically cruel. To him. But she's a menace that doesn't stop reminding him of their different places. So, in a way, he could probably thank her for teaching him resistance and how to wear a mask, take insults on the chin, and keep his head down and keep working long before he was ever in basic training and tapped by Intelligence recruiters. Accepting Intelligence's offer was enough reason to never speak to either of them again, but it was also certainly an excuse he was more than happy to take.

And then, of course, future Sith did very little to rebuke his distaste for running over average Imperial citizens like insects and pawns rather than fellow patriots and, y'know, actual people. Sorry Jedi, he's not particularly more trusting of you, either. He's never in complete denial about the Force - he grew up on Dromund Kaas, after all, but he is rather wary of any of its users - from either side and even unaffiliated parties like the Voss. Power eats even good people when its unchecked, after all.

12. Grudges and vendettas.

Hunter. >:))))) Hunter, Hunter, Hunter, ohhh, Hunter. Tyr is never able to see this as an even remotely equal relationship. They're not charming. They're cocky. Arrogant. And Tyr absolutely believes they delight in dragging him around by the nose. That bastard's smirk about it all was one of the most haunting images of all of those hallucinations. More than anyone else, Tyr holds Hunter accountable for what he went through. In fact, it's mainly Hunter. Primarily Hunter. Is it reasonable? Fair? Eh, maybe not. But it is someone he can hold personally accountable.

Unlike the Minister whom he otherwise respected. Unlike the Dark Council, which as a whole body is far more than any one operative could ever hope to stand against, particularly in open confrontation. Jadus was enough of a wild ride - if only he'd known then that he'd go on to put a blaster to the Sith Emperor himself akdfnlsdfnldf. But, yeah, I don't think Tyr holds a vendetta for anyone else like he does Hunter. What he sees in the Voss's trials convinces him the only safe way, the only certain way to end all of this is to put a bolt between their eyes the second he has the opportunity. He's not willing to give them half a chance to get away. It's really only made worse by Hunter drawing comparisons - Tyr's already mad, he doesn't listen, he's not interested in listening, and he's sure as hell not interested in taking over the galaxy. He just wants his damn life back. And personal justice.

Anyway, to keep from continuing to harp on poor Hunter, it's worth mentioning, perhaps again, that him and Lana's relationship was strained, at best, prior to Zakuul. Leading up to Shadow of Revan, its strictly a professional relationship in which he is an operative reporting to her and gathering intelligence for operations. What little trust and respect for her unusually pragmatic nature he does build in that time for her is sniped by Theron's ordeal with the Revanites because, yes, he caught feelings (oops), and primarily because he sees it as an act 'typical' of Sith interests - burning a trusted ally just because it seems like the fastest, easiest path to her goals. Unfortunately, it takes them so long to mend the relationship because Tyr didn't particularly feel too cozy with her to begin with - not enough to call her a friend, not more than was necessary for them to perform their respective jobs together. And then, of course, he's reporting to her again in Sith Intelligence and the relationship is still strictly professional by necessity. Even right after the rescue from Zakuul is a little touchy as he tries to figure out if he does trust her and how far he does, but crisis has a way of bringing people together. By the time they're really doing work on Odessen, Tyr sees her commitment and is willing to give them both a bit of a fresh start.

Also uhh... rip Vinn Atrius. Is another person Tyr took out with extreme prejudice. There's maybe a small part of him that regrets that admittedly very in-the-moment retaliation, but it is, yet again, not something he can go back and change, so dwelling on it is not usually Tyr's course of action. In a clearer headspace, he could've absolutely found Atrius's feelings understandable, maybe even relatable, but, in the moment, he had no qualms 'proving' to be the monster Atrius wanted. He hurt Theron. Any other considerations Tyr might've had went out the window in that single action. Not after how far they'd gone, not after he'd finally just gotten him back, found out this was all just an elaborate operation to protect what they'd worked for.

15. What it takes to make them cry.

Ahahahha, whatever it is, I'll probably cry about it because he doesn't like to, usually! He is definitely not about to let this be a public thing. Too many people had access to his mind over the years without his explicit consent and, without a purpose, it's... not in his usual missions, no, lol.

Off-handed, I think... the few times I've possibly seen this man cry have been in moments of... relief doesn't seem quite right, but in essence, yeah. Tyr still tries to take a lot of life on by himself, I think, even with the Alliance as a sort of proven support network. With the Alliance more than any other point in his life, Tyr has people he trusts and relies on with little to no doubts about their motivations or loyalties. Theron, of course, is a relief to have back in his life as the one person he had the easiest time relating to and is probably the person that knows the most about Tyr Deckard as he's mustered up the courage enough to share. So, it's probably been mostly to Theron.

And it's usually quiet. Probably usually because he's been reminded he isn't alone, his experiences and reactions to them are valid. And absolutely when he almost lost Theron. And... possibly in private, alone, pacing his quarters after Theron's 'defection.' But you'll never get him to confirm or deny and if anybody in the Alliance knows, they're not talking. So, I guess, tldr, moments of extreme emotional honesty, times where he's felt he's been able to lay himself bare and be accepted, jagged edges and all. Theron's shoulder is a really good place for him to hide and process all of that vulnerability.