Victim of Circumstance

The fire

I was not invited to see Loki for four days; I spent them sitting by myself in the dungeon. The jotun sent me food and drink at least.

On the fifth day, I woke up to an odd smell; an acrid, burning smell. I knew at once it was a fire.

I screamed for the jotun but no one came. I knew what I had to do. Summoning a burst of magic, I knocked down the door and raced upstairs, now hearing the shouts and roars of Jotuns as the fire consumed them. Jotuns were impartial to heat and could not handle hot summers or spicy food. The fire was a definite no-no.

I saw that the fire had blocked the staircase to Loki's chambers. I wet my cloak in one of the buckets the Jotuns were using and wrapped it around my arms, mouth, and nose, then pushed my way through the flames. Up the staircase, which was hot on my feet, and into the chambers upstairs. There I found Loki, unconscious on the ground, beside the balcony. I looked out and calculated how far it was.

I went to the enormous bed and began to rip the sheets into shreds, tying them together. When I had a long enough rope I tied it to the railing and let it hang down, almost brushing the ground. I shook Loki.

The door burst open, spilling smoke into the room and a rush of heat. Loki groaned on the floor. There was no time.

I summoned a burst of strength and threw Loki over my shoulder, jumped the railing and began to lower myself, one hand clutching Loki and the other holding the rope. We were metres from the ground when the fire burned through the rope and we fell.

I hit the ground hard, and Loki landed on top of me, but I hadn't finished yet. I grabbed his arms and legs and half-carried, half-dragged him through the snow to a safe part of the woods. In the distance, the palace exploded.

I coughed and coughed, clawing handfuls of ice and eating it to soothe my burning throat. Then I rushed to Loki and turned him over, studying his body. He was very hot. I stripped the cloak off him and put it on myself, then undid his armour until he was in a tunic and leggings. I packed the snow around his body as best as I could. In a little bowl made of bark, I melted snow with my hands and poured the small amount of water down his throat. Then I made myself comfortable beside him and fell asleep.

The man was running, fleeing from something I could not see. His hair flew behind him as he ran. I could tell he couldn't see where he was going and bumped into another figure, an old man with an eyepatch. Odin. Odin forced the man to his knees and brandished something small and sharp, and I watched as he began to do something awful to the man's face. The man writhed but not a sound was made. Blood trickled onto the ground. I went to scream but my mouth was shut, and then I was the man, and stitches were in my lips... 

I awoke with a gasp. I knew the lore and the tales. Perhaps it would happen someday. But I knew who the man was and I desperately didn't want that to happen to him.

Loki.