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Fire and brimstone, Surtr reborn from the Eternal Flame.
"I am Ásgarðr's doom!"
Cold; such a terrible, bitter cold. The Void between worlds, falling, falling, fall-
"Loki!"
Screams and blood; bodies torn apart. Einherjar scattered and slain.
"Hela, Queen of Ásgarðr."
Six gems; red, orange, yellow, green and blue. Such a strange, transfixing and ethereal blue.
"Thanos. Thor!"
Air, lack of air. Suffocation.
Suffocating.
Suffo-
Frigga woke with a gasp, bolting upright in bed before she began to cough, chest spasming as if she could not draw enough breath.
"Loki," she croaked. "Loki, nay darling!"
"Frigga, my love?"
She doubled over, gasping for air.
"Frigga!"
A hand on her back and then Óðinn's face was peering at her in the dark.
"I-" she began, forcing her heart and breathing under control. "I am fine."
"You had a premonition," Óðinn stated, face grave.
"Aye." She did.
Only the visions were fading already; teasing her mind with the glimpses of what she had seen, heard and felt.
"'Tis fading already."
"You spoke while in the vision's grasp," Óðinn said, shifting to pull her close. "Such terrible words."
"I did?" Frigga frowned.
"Aye. You spoke of Ásgarðr's doom and of a queen. You called for both our sons and... you mentioned the Mad Titan."
"Thanos," she whispered involuntarily, her eyes opening wide as the shades danced before her once more. "Óðinn!"
"What is it, my love?" he inquired, gently.
Frigga pulled free from his embrace, needing to see his face. "I saw Ásgarðr's destruction, Loki's quietus, Thanos' return and victory, and Thor's... He was alive in body only, his spirit torn asunder with all he had lost."
"This cannot be allowed to pass," Óðinn declared firmly.
"But how are we to stop it? I saw only glimpses, fragments of a future possible."
"There is a way."
Even as he spoke, Óðinn pushed the furs and sheet back, rising.
"You mean..."
"Aye."
Her breath caught at the mere thought. To go there was extremely dangerous.
"Are you certain?" she asked.
"If it can save Ásgarðr and our boys? Aye," Óðinn replied, before pausing to glance back at her. "I am only glad Loki is on Álfheimr for the trade negotiations."
Aye, it would not do to take him to Jötunheimr. The risk was far too great.
Still...
"We cannot go alone," Frigga said, rising herself.
"I do not intend to, but it must be a small party."
"Mother," Thor greeted her as she stepped into the outermost of her chambers.
"My Queen," the others bowed.
"Thor, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three," Frigga greeted, forcing a smile she did not feel.
"What is wrong?" Thor questioned. "Why has Father summoned us so late, and with instructions to prepare for battle?"
"'Tis merely a precaution, but we must be prepared."
"For what?"
"Resistance," Óðinn declared as he entered the chamber, glancing at the four warriors. "Your mother has had the foresight."
Thor sucked in a breath, alarmed eyes turning back to her.
Her mouth suddenly dry once more at the thought of what she had seen, Frigga could only reach out to take one of his hands. To think of her baby so broken... and Loki lost to the Void... She was certain her hands spasmed on Thor's. She could not allow either fate to befall her babies.
"What do you will of us, my King?" Lady Sif questioned.
"To ascertain the best course of action to prevent what Frigga has seen, we must travel to Mímisbrunnr," Óðinn explained. "Its waters come from the roots of the Yggdrasill itself and contain much wisdom. Some even say it gives one the ability to see all which is, was and will be."
"If one can survive to reach it," Lord Hogun said gravely.
It did not surprise Frigga that he of all Thor's companions knew of Mímisbrunnr. Well, other than Loki, of course.
"'Tis a dangerous quest, then?" Thor asked, his brow furrowing as he glanced at her.
Frigga scowled at him. No doubt he did not like seeing her dressed for travel on such a perilous journey. Her dear boy, how oft he forgot she had been a shieldmaiden of Vanaheimr long ere she had married or borne him.
"Aye, for Mímisbrunnr is located in the southern, arctic wastelands of Jötunheimr," Óðinn confirmed.
"Jötunheimr!" Lord Fandral exclaimed as the others made shocked sounds.
"You wish to attack the jötnar with such a small party?" Thor demanded.
"Nay, I hope to sneak in and access the well unnoticed," Óðinn replied. "Laufey need never know we were there."
"Sneak in? You would have us skulk in the shadows lik-"
"A war with Jötunheimr would cost us more than we could bear," Frigga stated, voice heavy with the foresight. "I will not allow it to come to pass!"
Her voice rang through the suddenly silent chamber.
"Nor I," Óðinn reassured her.
She had not had the time to tell him what little she had seen, but no doubt he could read it in her shaken countenance. Frigga had only spoken of one son lost.
The bitter cold was the first thing Frigga noticed upon their arrival. A cold far too reminiscent of that from her premonition.
Oh Loki, to have this at two such terrible times in his life. Was her youngest destined to be tormented by the cold at all the worst times of his life?
Frigga shivered and pulled her fur lined cloak tighter around herself as she peered around her into the gloom. Óðinn had called on the dark energy to transport them directly to Jötunheimr, to avoid alerting the jötnar to their arrival. As convenient as the Bifröst was, 'twas not subtle.
"Our first trip to Jötunheimr and all we can see is mist," Lord Fandral moaned. "Not an auspicious start!"
"A fortuitous advantage," Óðinn countered sharply. "It will mask our presence from prying eyes."
Fortuitous? Or unnatural?
"It reeks of seiðr," Frigga observed.
Now her eyes had adjusted, she could see the mist was the cause of the gloom for the sky was rather brighter through it.
"Mímisbrunnr is a place of wild, untamed seiðr," Óðinn replied.
Aye, 'twas. Still, it did not feel right to Frigga.
There was something about the mist... something almost familiar. Yet not.
"Which way, my Liege?" Lady Sif inquired.
"'Tis my first visit," Óðinn replied. "Visits here are strictly forbidden for the chaos they could cause."
"We should spread out and ensure we do not miss it in the mist," Thor suggested. "'Tis thick enough we could walk right past it."
Laughter echoed all around them, resonating in the mist.
Frigga immediately drew her knives at the sound, while all the others raised their own weapons. Clearly they were not as alone as they had hoped.
"Who is there?" Thor demanded loudly.
"Quiet!" Óðinn hissed.
Shadows danced all around them, to the left one moment, but then on the right, flickering about like those cast by a dancing flame. 'Twas hard to tell how many they faced.
"We only wish to access Mímisbrunnr," Óðinn tried. "We have no interest in you, whomever you are."
"The great Óðinn Borrson coming in peace?" a voice demanded, incredulous. "The All-Father and warmonger of Ásgarðr?"
In a horribly familiar parody of only hours earlier, Frigga' breath caught in her throat. Nay, it could not be. That voice!
"Surprise!"
A figure emerged from the mist before them.
Loki emerged from the mist.
He wore a horned headpiece vaguely similar to the one they had commissioned for Thor's upcoming coronation, but 'twas where the similarities ended. Where those were elegant and tall, arching well above her baby's head, these were far smaller and, though winged arches framed his face, it did not cover his whole head, instead vanishing into his new, longer locks. His clothes were also... peculiar.
Rather than the leathers Frigga was used to seeing him in, this Loki wore a far softer cloth, strangely fitted. There was a short, dark green coat over what seemed to be a smaller coat of pale green, buttoned along his chest. Under it was a white shirt and what appeared to be a green... was that a necklace? It fit around his throat, but then hung down his chest, pinned in place with a gold accent before slipping under the smaller coat. His trousers were black and there seemed to be a strange disc attached to his outer coat in red, white and blue with black symbols.
Frigga had only ever seen clothing like it in her vision before. On the mortals.
So why was her youngest wearing them? 'Twas as strange as the presence she felt radiating from him. This was clearly not her Loki, nay, he was no doubt still safely on Álfheimr. Which left the question of whom this was.
Or from which timeline.
"Loki?" Thor questioned, brow furrowed as he stared at the newcomer.
"Mmm, kinda," the man replied, a wide grin spreading across his face.
It made Frigga shiver as she could almost feel the edge of madness emanating from it. The vision of her baby lost to the Void flashed before her eyes once more. Could one survive such an experience with their sanity completely intact?
Frigga stepped forward and placed a hand on her elder son's arm before he could reply. "He is not our Loki."
"What she said," shade Loki replied, pointing at her.
"Wha-?" Thor began, before shaking his head. "How?"
"Oh, so you think to mess with time, but expect everything else to be linear?" Loki questioned, turning to begin circling them... and vanishing back into the mist.
"Reveal yourself and your intentions!" Thor thundered, raising Mjǫllnir.
"How utterly predictable."
The words came from behind them and they turned, only to be faced with more cloying mist. 'Twas as if they were enveloped in a cloud, tendrils reaching out to curl onto the ice before them.
Her son's friends spread out around them, surrounding herself and Óðinn in a protective ring.
She glanced at her husband, surprised at his silence. His expression was shrewd as his eye darted about, clearly attempting to determine the best course of action.
"Father?" Thor questioned.
"There are rumors, hardly more than whispers truly, of those who would seek to protect the timeline," Óðinn finally spoke. "Those who believe themselves keepers thereof."
"Aye, the TVA," Loki's voice rang from the luminous haze.
The curious duality of fog and brightness was making Frigga's eyes ache, but she peered desperately into the mist nonetheless. While it may not be her Loki, this was a version of her son, and she felt nearly compelled to render him aid. Seeing him teetering on the brink of true madness made her heart clench.
Not sensing anyone else and already seeing the rime ice forming on the blades of her knives, she tucked them away.
Frigga would never be able to strike any version of either of her sons.
"The TVA?" Lord Hogun questioned.
"The Time Variance Authority," Loki replied, appearing from the torso upwards in the mist to the left. "As the All-Father said, they protect the integrity of the timelines, pruning off extraneous branches."
"Why?" Thor demanded.
"Because tampering with time is strictly forbidden."
"And you bow to their authority?" Óðinn frowned. "A prince of Ásgarðr?"
Loki shrugged casually, but Frigga could see the tension beneath the act. There was more to this than he wished them to see.
"I hale from a pruned branch," Loki finally said. "However, as one innocent of time tampering and only being guilty of acting on an... opportunity which landed at my feet, I was offered a deal. A few years of service for my continued existence, instead of being erased along with my timeline."
Frigga drew in a sharp breath at the words. No doubt there were more details, but her son was ever able to negotiate himself a far more favorable deal than he should have been able to.
Her little Silvertongue with his honeyed words.
"A serendipitous twist of fate then!" Lord Volstagg exclaimed. "For we are here to alter the timeline and the Norns sent you of all the TVA."
Loki sneered. "You expect me to side with you who have ever tormented and distained me?"
"We have not!"
"You would prefer to serve this Authority instead?" Lord Fandral questioned. "What do they ask of you?"
"'Tis rather amusing, actually," Loki replied. "All those wonderful little mysteries and inexplicable occurrences scattered throughout history? The mischief and the chaos? 'Tis all me, ensuring the integrity of the timeline, one little conundrum at a time."
Frigga blinked. She knew of what he spoke, the fascinating enigmas none could explain, but which had taken place nevertheless. She could see how they might not only amuse and entertain her youngest, but delight him in partaking of them.
The TVA had chosen his tasks wisely.
No doubt this Loki knew his assignments for what they were, but even as a prince of Ásgarðr he had ever had his duties and responsibilities. Only none so expertly chosen to suit his temperament or preferences.
Nay, they would not sway him from his task so easily. They would have to offer him something in return.
"Loki, darling, I have seen your past and alternative future," Frigga explained. "It does not need to happen thus."
Her baby's eyes darted up to lock with hers and the knowledge and pain she saw there was nearly enough to make her weep. She could not say how much of what she had seen that he had lived, but clearly it had been enough. Even if 'twas only the Void, Loki should never have had to endure it.
"You would seek to eradicate me from existence," he finally replied.
"Nay, we would see you live a better life."
"A lie."
"You would dare accuse the All-Mother of lying?" Lady Sif asked. "You?"
Despite the barbed words, Loki did not so much as glance at her, instead maintaining his gaze with Frigga for several moments more ere directing his ire at Óðinn.
"Nay, I will be Ásgarðr's puppet no longer," Loki finally declared. "Your stolen relic has escaped."
"Relic?" Thor questioned, before ploughing straight on, voice outraged. "You would work with this Authority over your own family?"
"Aye."
"Are you mad?"
"Possibly," Loki fired back, almost immediately.
The reverberations from the words made Frigga's head hurt and she raised a hand to her temple, her vision blurring.
"My Queen, are you alright?" Lady Sif inquired, shifting closure to her.
"Aye, merely..."
"Echoes?" Loki offered, head tilting. "It does take some adjusting."
"What have you done?" Óðinn demanded.
"Me? Done?" Loki sneered. "'Tis what the humans call déjà vu, it happens if you attempt to mess with time. Past, present and future slip and blur, becoming one or none."
"I have heard the words before, in my premonitions," Frigga hastened to add. "Thor's question and Loki's response."
"Aye, when Thor sought to leave Ásgarðr against Óðinn's express permission, to save his mortal love," Loki explained. "He required my help to accomplish it but questioned my methods."
"Mortal love?" Thor questioned.
"Thor does what?" Óðinn demanded.
Their overlapping voices did little to lessen the pain in Frigga's head. Not least because this Loki was deliberately seeking to antagonize them, successfully pitting them against each other.
The TVA had chosen wisely, it seemed. Or the Norns.
She knew well to cross them was a perilous deed. Yet how could she not attempt to given what they had deigned to show her?
A breeze shivered between them, causing the cloying mist to swirl and dance all around. The ever-shifting tendrils scattered somewhat and Frigga caught the way Lord Hogun started at the edge of her vision. A small tilt of her head and she could see the thick brown root which had been revealed not far from him, snaking across the ice. Beside it water flowed, bubbling up and splashing softly.
Mímisbrunnr.
This whole time they had been so close. 'Twas no wonder her youngest had been so antagonizing, distracting them with venomed words and barbed insults.
"Thor," Óðinn ordered.
Her eldest needed no more, charging for the shade of his brother. The flicker of delight which flitted across Loki's face told Frigga all she needed to know, and she was already turning away as Thor flew straight through the illusion, sprawling upon the ice with a cry.
"Óðinn, nay!" Frigga called out, too late.
Her husband had already knelt at the spring and dipped his hand in, raising it to his mouth even as she tried to warn him. Then he slumped to the ice and seiðr swirled up all around them, likely held back by Óðinn before.
The warriors around her dropped without a word, while Thor failed to rise.
"You are the only one I miss, Mother," Loki, suddenly behind her, whispered into her ear.
Darkness, and her son, embraced her.
The mist parted and cleared, leaving gleaming ice in the sun's glittering path. White and blue stretched as far as the eye could see, with tall cliffs and deep crevasses scaring the landscape. Wind whipped across the land, causing small snow devils to form and dance.
Two massive, dark brown roots cut through the ice; long and thick, snaking outwards. Between them water gargled and swirled, steaming in the cold air. It flowed only a short distance before vanishing under the ice, tracing patterns beneath it for a few meters more ere it dropped too deep to be seen. Mímisbrunnr, font of wisdom, seiðr and fate. Folly of many.
Fifty meters away, seven figures lay collapsed upon the ice alongside a rapidly fading well of meltwater and illusions. Beside it stood Loki, Trickster and Óðinnbane, his task nearly done.
Flames and cold - such a terrible, bitter cold.
Screams and blood; bodies torn apart.
The Void, the fire. Six gems, blue and purple.
Air, lack of air. Suffocation.
Suffocating.
Suffo-
Frigga woke with a gasp, bolting upright in bed before she began to cough, chest spasming as if she could not draw enough breath.
"Frigga, my love?"
She doubled over, gasping for air.
"Frigga!"
A hand on her back and then Óðinn's face was peering at her in the dark.
"I-" she began, forcing her heart and breathing under control. "I am fine."
"You had a premonition," Óðinn stated, face grave.
"Aye." She did.
Only the visions were fading already; her mind only able to see flames and blue, such a strange, transfixing blue. All she could hear were the screams of the dying or those left behind. And all she could feel were her lungs, on fire from the lack of breath.
It made her want to claw desperately at her throat. At the phantom hand she felt there.
Such a large hand.
"Can you recollect any of it?" Óðinn asked, gently.
"Nay," she replied. "'Tis fading already, so quickly this time."
She oft forgot her premonitions, but normally she could remember just a little more. Especially when they left her feeling as desperate and anxious as she did now. 'Twas something truly terrible she had seen this time.
Why did the Norns curse her with these visions if there was naught she could do about them?
"I... I feel like something terrible will happen, Óðinn," Frigga admitted softly. "Something appalling."
Her husband's face was grave as he looked at her before pulling her close.
"I am certain we will be able to face whatever the Norns see fit to throw at us."
If only Frigga could be as certain.
She still felt like she could not breathe.