Book 2: Phantasm [Thor]

Chapter 12

Odin and his royal guard fought through the battle towards the palace. It was slow going for when the ships fell numerous creatures came crawling out of the wreckage if the fire or explosion from impact didn't kill them first. Those that managed to land didn't do so with much grace, wishing to create as much destruction as possible. Living or dying didn't matter. So long as the leader of their attack managed to get to the intended target.

The front of the palace was completely destroyed. A black ship broke through the large doors and half of the pillars in the throne room before finally coming to a halt. There were none left alive. Every member of the guard in the palace that came to the defense of the crown before Odin's royal guard arrived sprawled out along the ground covered in blood and mixed among the corpses of the enemy. Out of the corner of his eye the king noticed movement, realizing there was in fact one still alive as they tried to stand, only for a beam of yellow light to shoot out of the staff in his hand to cut them down. Odin recognized the black-golden armor and the masks they wore, brows narrowing. An old and forgotten enemy that he despised. The warriors saw to it that none of the invaders lurked about the palace and cleared out the halls of those snooping about.

He wondered where the leader would go. Their forces didn't seem to be heading towards the vault, which would've been the prime target given the items housed inside. What could be of greater value? It came to the king, the reason behind the attack. His eye widened with fear and worry, whispering, "Frigga."

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The doors to the chamber were thrown open, causing the queen's head to snap towards them swiftly with a hard expression on her features. Anya, sat on one of the plush cushions, stood quickly and drew closer to the goddess for protection and security once laying eyes on the enemy before them. He was alone, a creature in dark armor from neck to toe with intricate designs engraved into the surface. A male with alabaster skin and hair, which was braided off his face and down the back. His eyes were what terrified them the most. His irises were pale blue in color, but it was the area around them that made them look so menacing. They were pitch black, like the pupils, and as he stared them down with a glare Frigga only stood taller. There was the table separating them thankfully, but that wouldn't stop the enemy for long.

"Stand down, creature," Frigga ordered. "And you may still survive this."

From behind the curtain, Anya's heart raced, hearing their footsteps on both sides shifting. They weren't moving away from each other though. Frigga's illusion approached the enemy, while the fake Anya backed towards another tapestry on the wall away from the impending confrontation.

"I have survived worse, woman," he spat.

"Who are you?"

"I am Malekith. And I would have what is mine."

His eyes landed on Anya, whose back pressed against the wall with nowhere left to go. He stalked forward with a brisk pace sensing the power resting within her. It was now within his grasp and he wasn't about to let it slip from him again. But the queen moved swiftly and deadly, bringing around the dagger in hand. The blade cut into Malekith's cheek causing him to grunt in pain and stumble backwards. But only for a second, as he glared at the goddess.

From behind the curtain the sound of clashing blades resonated through the space as the two engaged. Yet now the young woman's heart was racing for another reason entirely. Slowly she turned away from the tapestry to stare at the queen, who in turn now stared back.

"No..." Anya whispered. Reaching up her hand passed through Frigga standing beside her. She gave a sad smile in return and whispered back,

"I'm sorry, my dear."