Helka Lokidottir

The Attack

Helka's POV

I woke up in the morning and quickly got dressed. I saw a dress draped on my chair, but I ignored it and put on my armor instead. Once ready, I transported to the dungeons. I had no trouble getting passed the guards. Other criminals watched as I passed by and entered the cell. My father was laying on his back with a book over his eyes.

"And here I thought reading was beneath you," I joked.

"I never said it was beneath me. But it beats the sight of what is outside this cell." He grabbed the book by the spine and set it next to his bed.

"I brought my dagger." I revealed the blade with the opening of my hand. A green shimmer of light sparked in my palm and revealed the dagger that he had given my mother before he left her for the first time for a battle.

"Do you remember what I taught you?"

I nodded and held the dagger, the blade pointing outside the side of my fist. My fingers coiled it to the point where my nails dug into my skin. I slowly brought the dagger up as if I were going to strike, my arm slanted across my face.

"Good," my father said. "Never be afraid of the close contact. Your magic will help you if you feel stuck."

After a few turns of strikes and deflects, the doors of the dungeon opened and a line of prisoners filed in, led by Hogan and Thandrall. The prisoners' horns and helmets hid their eyes, but their heads turned to see us. My father stared them down as they walked by. I stood in the middle of the room, waiting until the end of the line had passed. When I saw more guards coming down the stairs, I hid the dagger once again and sat in the chair.

"Your punishment could be worse," I said.

"Define worse," My father said, making his way back to his bed.

"You could be sharing a cell with those creatures or seeing them across the isle."

"Heh," my father chuckled. "You are not wrong." He laid on his back and began tossing a small chalice in the air. I summoned my dagger over and over, practicing in mid strike.

"You're making it too obvious," he told me, not taking his gaze off the chalice.

I tried to protest but a loud crack echoed down the hall of the prisons. We both moved to the wall of the cell and saw black smoke coming from one of the cells. Prisoners were banding against the golden walls, begging for help. The figure grabbed on by the skull and pushed him against the magical barrier, the man's face burning in the process. The magic broke, setting a few prisoners free.

I summoned my sword, ready to exit the cell. My father caught my arm. "Wait."

"But Father, I have to-"

His eyes never wavered from the chaos outside his cell. "It would benefit you to stay. Just wait for the right moment."

I hid my sword and watched the creature break open more cell doors. When he approached us, I backed up slowly as my father walked in between me and the creature, giving him a half smirk. The creature huffed and turned his back from us. When he was engulfed in the chaos of prisoners and guards, my father leaned in and whispered, "go".

I waved my hand and left the cell.

The fight was everywhere. Guards flew overhead, blasts echoing through the halls. I saw Frigga take a woman back to her chambers. I felt the air of a blast fly past my head. I quickly turned and vanished. From behind the enemy, I drew my dagger and sliced from behind. I held his body up and allowed the blasts to hit him. I vanished again and found myself closer to Frigga's chambers. The monster that had escaped the cell entered behind her. Asgardian guards were lifeless on the floors as enemy guards stood over them. I summoned four figures and the guards charged. They left the doors and followed to my hiding place. I made my way down a different hall, staying behind the columns, summoning more figures. It wasn't until they were right in front of me that I struck one in the back with my dagger. When the others learned the trick, they stopped in their tracks and began blasting.  I swiped my arm up, knocking the gun from his hands. He tried to punch but I ducked and struck him below the armor, just below his ribs, or whatever the elf equivalent is to ribs.

I heard Thor yell. I kicked the figure down and rushed to the room. Thor was standing above Frigga, Odin cradling her head. A pool of blood was dripping next to her. Odin held her close, speechless. Her face was pale, but calm.

My heart dropped. My legs felt weak, and tears began to swell in my eyes, but I didn't have the energy to let them fall. I ran out of the room and threw up, holding the door for support. I tried to breathe in between the coughs but I wasn't having much luck. Thor walked past with the mortal woman. He put his hand on my shoulder but kept his head down. I looked back in the room to see Odin, still at Frigga's side, stroking her face. The pink in her cheeks had faded away. Her body limp, only being supported by Odin.

That night, when the dust had cleared, we gathered up the fallen warriors and prepared for the funeral.

"Someone must tell the other prince," one of the guards said.

"Please, let me," I told them.

"But my lady, Odin's instructions were very clear-"

"I have visitation rights. Besides, would you like to be the one who faces my father when he finds out his mother, the one who raised him, is now dead?" I questioned. The two guards were silent. "I thought so."

From the stairs, I could see the lights enter the sky, honoring those who had fallen. Once I reached the cell, my eyes felt hot. Tears swelled up when I saw my father, sitting in his chair. I tried to wipe them away, but he noticed me before I could calm myself.

"What is it," He asked, folding me into a hug. He tried wiping away lose strands of hair tangling with my tears.

"She's gone," I said pulling away from his grasp. "Frigga. She's gone." My father let go of my arms and stared at the ground. "I told the guards I should be the one to tell you. I'm sorry father, I should have gone in. I tried to keep the enemy guards away-"

"Enough. You're not at fault." He pulled me back in for a hug. "You should join the rest of them."

"But what about you?"

My father shook his head. "Just go be with the rest of them."

A shimmer of light formed around me, and I was back out of the cell. I watched my father turn his back and drop his head. As I ascended the staircase, I heard cracks. Chairs were thrown at the wall, shattering to pieces. Book pages floated down to the floor. His cell was in shambles. My father's head hung low.