Ragnarok: Doom of the Gods

Prologue

                                                     Ragnarok: Doom of the Gods

                                                               by Sarah Hamm

                                                                     Prologue

1064 years ago.....
Thrown on the skraged cliffs of Jotunheim, the palace of Laufey dies in the heart of a once breathing city. Everything is desolate.

War. Siege. What could ever wreak havoc on a realm, was stabbed most violently into Jotunheim.

The city is a bomb. It waits for the final attack that will crumble it. Or that will crown Jotunheim the victor in the Jotun-Asgardian war. For years it has waged. Of course, that doesn't mean Laufey and his fellow regents couldn't have some fun. What are wars for, after all?

Glacial stone is beneath her, in Laufey's prison. This small Asgardian lies quacking on what could possibly be her death bed. But instead of flowers covering her, there is only rough cloth. To see what savagery went on in the blackest corners of Laufey's kingdom, look beneath those rags. Burn marks. Not marks from heat, no. Burns from ice. Her skin is melting with them. In places you wouldn't imagine, she was touched and marked. These blisters of her suffering caused her stomach to be bigger with child.

The cell is a cage. The girl is a bird for them to watch flutter. They mock her captivity with a miniscule window. The cage of stone has worn from time and is riveted like her body. What is unusual, however, is the placement of some of these chips. They lead up to the window at the top.... Like footholds.

Boom.

The child awakens. Wisps of magic flit about her. Sound fills her ears like percussion. The Bifrost has landed. The final battle has begun.

She leaps off the stone, tearing the blanket from her frail body. The chipped wall must answer her needs. Hope and tears have nourished this wall. Her hands and feet claw at it. Slowly, the window comes closer.

The battle is waging. Frost Giants come out of stone dwellings, forming weapons out of ice in their hands. Frozen weapons tear apart the flesh of the Asgardian soldiers. Shiny armour and swords meet blue skin and ice as the two realms collide. The girl spots an Asgardian on a big white horse, leading the army deeper into Jotunheim.

The child realizes this is the opportunity she has been waiting for. Her captors would be busy and their play thing would be forgotten.

From the window to her escape is about twenty feet. Tears swell in her eyes. Wait. Just like her body, torn and broken, the blanket clenches her eye. The adolescent practically dives off the wall. The burn marks make every movement painful, but the moan's of her afflictors in battle is medicine enough . Grabbing the blanket, she makes it back to the window and ties it to a steel rod.

Her skirt dances around her legs as she falls. With a jolt, she lands.

Left: the Jotuns are fighting the Asgardians. Right: stone buildings. Which seems less threatening? Blue monsters, or ice flicked buildings full of the unknown?

The wind burns her ears. She left her blanket behind. Curse Odin. She tries to melt into the black walls. Nobody sees the child.

Frost kids and women hide in the stone. Clenching each other. Hovering in presentiment. Noise surrounds and presses the girl, but the palace kitchens are silent. You can only hear small wisps of snivels. Inside windows, she can see the innocent monsters. Another even younger, Asgardian girl seems to have a spotlight on her.

The escapee child calls to the other girl through the window. The Jotuns look up in terror. It's only a girl. The other Asgardian prisoner looks up. Her torture lied in serving the beasts by nourishing them. A noise presses through her lips. Running to the window, the slave scampers out of that black hole.

The two embrace, but the younger notices the playthings swollen stomach and looks up. Words are not needed. Meeting the sad eyes with her own, the older nods towards the Jotun mountains. They know what they need to do.

They begin running. Their hearts pulse to the mountains. Behind them, the battle is still in full tilt, reaching its climax. Why would they care? They are flying.

Suddenly, the older Asgardian stops, her eyes watering. On the ground is a puddle of what looks like water. Her water has broken.

Moans crowd the hard alleyway. It doesn't matter. The people killing behind them is louder than the life being born in front of them.

The first girl grips the youngling's hand and screams softly. The first contraction. Finally, the sighs occur when it ends. The tears freeze on her skin.

An eternity of crys crystalize all over the alleyway. When a crying baby comes kicking out of her body, the cries finally shatter. The new mother takes the baby from the slave's hands.

Red eyes like small beads stare into her soul. Does he see his mother's fear? Fear of having a child at so young an age? Fear of the child itself? This is the baby of her nightmare. That monster that scarred her, gave her this child of ice. The warm cradle of her arms is not enough to stop the freeze this baby can bring. All of this a reminder of being taken from her home and forced to bring a moment of pleasure to a frosty king.

A Frost Giant. Stumbling, like a walking carcass, he enters the alleyway. His eyes become a thin slash like his lips. The girl's' eyes widen, just like the giant mouth of the Giant as a growl tumbles through the air.

The present slaps the mother. She crumbles under the weight of herself. Horror strikes like lightning upon the youngling, and she grabs both mother and child.

"AhhHHHH," The child screams. A burn brushes her skin. The Frost Giant focuses on the older girl now.

"Where do you think your going," he asks maliciously.

Escape pulsates through her heart. No black holes to run through. No portals for the children to fly into.

The baby speaks her agony: A cry escapes his lips. The Frost Giant now notices the baby in her arms.

Suddenly the older grabs the younger's hand. Hands like claws, they run from the blue monstrosity. Another alley. This way, that way. Freedom is almost theirs. Suddenly the younger Midgardian trips on a rock. The mother falls. The baby falls. All hope just.... Falls.

The mother is shrouded in a world of black. Unseeing and unfeeling, she has escaped from the planet the only way possible: Unconsciousness.

A baby cries. Her eyes open, albeit squinted. Fog seems to cloud her vision. A blue apparition jerks toward some stone. It goes inside.

"Brunner," She whispers her ancient language.

Someone is grabbing her, pulling her away from her son. A weep escapes her mouth. "Come on!" The slave girl crys.

And they fly.

The temple that holds the blue child will soon be discovered. The best his mother can hope for, although, is that Laufey will find his son. But he will become a savage.

At least he will be alive.

There are things coming for this child. He will become a plaything like his mother. He will burn and be burned. He will be the fallen prince. A trickster. He is Loki of Jotunheim.  

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