Unknownfate
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Chapter 129
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 15:37:16 +0000 UTC(not sure how i missed this, but oh well, better late then very I guess)
Loki wished he hadn’t asked his mother for advice about this mysterious Arthuria. Clearly, she didn’t know anything, but instead seemed to think he had fallen in love, like he was some fool like Thor, ruled by his emotions.
Still, knowing that she knew nothing was something in and of itself. Clearly, whatever it was Odin knew, he kept to himself. For what reason? He would have figured that out slowly, but first, he had to ensure that his reign was secure.
And for that, he needed to make a short trip to Jotunheim.
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Meanwhile, within the halls of Asgard, whispers had begun to spread. Sif and the Warriors Three had grown suspicious. Something had felt wrong ever since Thor’s exile. Their prince had been cast out, and Loki had stepped into his brother’s place with surprising speed and ease. Too much ease.
Volstagg, ever the blunt one, was the first to voice his concerns as they gathered in the training yard, their weapons clashing in a half-hearted sparring session.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered, his massive frame heaving as he brought his axe down in a slow, thoughtful motion. “Thor cast out, Loki on the throne, and now Odin in the sleep? It feels wrong.”
Hogun gave a small, sharp nod, his dark eyes narrowing as he deflected a half-hearted swing from Fandral. “It is wrong. Thor would not have acted so recklessly without provocation.”
Fandral, ever the optimist, gave a small, strained smile as he stepped back, twirling his blade with a flourish. “Perhaps Loki simply stepped up in a time of need? He is our prince too, after all.”
Sif, watching from the sidelines, her blade resting across her knees, shook her head. She didn’t like Loki one bit, having her own reason to dislike him. “No, I’m sure Loki is responsible for this mess. Thor gone, Loki on the throne? He benefits too much from this situation to not be connected to it.”
Volstagg grunted, planting the head of his axe into the ground with a dull thud. “Aye, and I want to know how. But how do we question the king without risking our heads?”
Fandral leaned in, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “We don’t. We go find Thor, If we are right, and Loki is responsible for this, we need Thor back home.”
Sif and the Warriors Three didn’t waste any time after their decision. They made their way through the grand halls of Asgard, their footsteps echoing off the polished golden floors as they made for the Bifrost.
Sif led the way, her steps quick, her jaw set, her dark eyes sharp with determination. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, that Thor’s exile was more than it seemed, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
When they reached the observatory, Heimdall stood in his usual place, his massive form silhouetted against the swirling rainbow energies of the Bifrost, his golden eyes fixed on the distant, shimmering threads of the cosmos.
His massive, intricately engraved sword rested point down against the polished floor, his armored form as unyielding and immovable as the mountains of Jotunheim.
He did not turn as they approached, his golden eyes remaining fixed on the distant, shimmering threads of the Bifrost, but they all knew he was aware of their presence. He was always aware.
“Heimdall,” Sif said, her voice firm, her tone demanding. “We need to speak with you.”
There was a brief, tense silence, the only sound the low, resonant hum of the Bifrost as it pulsed with the energy of the Nine Realms.
Finally, Heimdall turned, his golden eyes flicking over the four warriors before him, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Lady Sif. Warriors Three. What brings you to my post?”
“We need to find Thor,” Volstagg rumbled, his deep, booming voice carrying easily over the constant hum of the Bifrost. “We fear something is amiss, and we would see our brother returned to his rightful place.”
Heimdall’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he considered their words. For a long, tense moment, he said nothing, his gaze flicking from one face to the next, his sharp, perceptive mind clearly working through the implications of their request.
Finally, he spoke, his deep, resonant voice echoing off the polished walls of the observatory. “You would go against the will of your king? You would risk everything to defy Loki’s order?”
Sif stepped forward, her eyes hard, her jaw set. “Loki is not my king. Thor is.”
Heimdall’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his golden eyes searching her face for some hint of doubt, some flicker of hesitation. When he found none, he let out a sad sigh.
He had been watching Thor and Loki since they came into Asgard. He knew very well the reason for Sif’s dislike of Loki, though it was saddening to think it ran that deep.
Loki, by the will of the queen mother, and the All-Father was currently acting king; this was something that couldn’t be denied, yet to see Sif deny it like that truly showed just how little respect Loki had from some among them.
Heimdall let the silence stretch for a moment, his gaze lingering on Sif, then shifting to each of the Warriors Three in turn. He had always been loyal to the throne, but his loyalty had always been to Asgard itself, not just to the one who sat upon its throne.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured, each word chosen with care. “You risk much, Lady Sif, Warriors Three. Defying the king’s command, seeking out the exiled prince… if you are caught, the consequences could be dire.”
Volstagg grunted, his grip tightening on the haft of his axe. “We have faced worse odds, Heimdall. We are not afraid.”
Fandral, ever the charmer, flashed a quick, confident smile, twirling his blade in one hand. “Besides, when have we ever let the odds stop us?”
Hogun simply nodded, his expression as stoic as ever, his silence speaking volumes.
Sif took a step closer, her dark eyes fixed firmly on Heimdall’s impassive face. “Thor is our friend. Our brother. We cannot simply abandon him.”
Heimdall’s golden eyes remained fixed on her for a long, tense moment, his jaw set, his expression unreadable. He had his own questions, how did those Jötunn enter Asgard without him knowing?
Oh, he didn’t doubt it was Loki behind it, after all, they could never have succeeded; they just threw their lives away.
Had Thor handled it better, it would just have delayed his accession a little. But no, he had handled it in the worst way possible, causing this mess.
Loki loved Asgard. Heimdall knew that. He wouldn’t do anything to truly harm it. But that didn’t mean Heimdall didn’t feel slighted that he had missed the invasion. Those secrets paths Loki knew about were dangerous, a risk for Asgard itself.
Heimdall wanted Loki to learn a lesson. Bringing Thor back would indeed do that.
Furthermore, Loki hadn’t forbidden him from sending anyone else to Midgard, though normally it wouldn’t be allowed without permission, and he knew Loki wouldn’t give it… so he could pretend to be stupid.
Allow them to go and see Thor.
Thor wouldn’t return to Asgard, he was still Mortal, though maybe his friends could help him overcome his trial? It was a possibility.
Yet, Heimdall hesitated.
Because where they wanted to go… was into the heart of the domain of an unknown Goddess. She didn’t seem to be hostile towards Asgard, likely having reached some understanding with Odin, but… how would she react to Sif and the warriors Three?
“You are asking me to send you into the realm of a goddess,” Heimdall said slowly, his deep voice carrying a note of caution. “A being of great power, whose intentions remain unknown to us. You risk not only your lives but the fragile peace we have with this Arthuria Pendragon.”
The four warriors exchanged confused glances, the unfamiliar name catching them off guard. Sif stepped forward, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Arthuria Pendragon?” she repeated, the unfamiliar name sounding strange on her tongue. “Who is this goddess? I have never heard of her.”
Heimdall’s gaze remained steady, his golden eyes fixed on the distant, swirling threads of the Bifrost. “That is precisely the issue,” he said, his deep voice echoing through the vast, empty observatory.
“She is an unknown, a mystery even to Asgard. A being of great power, one who has claimed dominion over a portion of Midgard, and who rules a city built seemingly overnight. A city that bears the name Camelot.”
“Camelot?” Volstagg repeated, his thick brows knitting together in confusion.
Fandral chuckled, the sound light and mocking, his blade flashing as he spun it idly in his hand. “Surely you jest, Heimdall. A goddess appearing out of nowhere, claiming dominion over Midgard, building a kingdom overnight? Such things are the stuff of legend, not reality.”
Heimdall’s gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable. “And yet, it is the truth. I have seen it with my own eyes. A great city, white and gleaming, filled with mortals who worship this goddess as their king. A realm of order and purpose, a place of power and control. A place unlike any other on Midgard.”
Hogun’s dark eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. “And this Arthuria Pendragon… she permits Thor to remain within her domain?”
“Yes,” he answered. “And she welcomed Loki as the Lord Regent of Asgard… I fear that unless Loki permits it, or Thor recovers Mjolnir, she might not let him go.”
Sif’s jaw tightened, her dark eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and determination. “Then all the more reason for us to go. If Thor is trapped in this goddess’s domain, we must free him. We owe him that much.”
Volstagg’s broad face twisted into a thoughtful frown, his thick, calloused fingers tightening around the haft of his axe. “But if this Arthuria is as powerful as you say… will we even stand a chance against her? If she is truly a goddess, what hope do we have of facing her and surviving?”
Hogun’s dark eyes remained fixed on Heimdall, his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. “We have no choice,” he said simply, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a note of finality. “Thor would not abandon us. We cannot abandon him.”
Fandral flashed a quick, confident grin, his blade flashing as he spun it idly in his hand. “Besides, we have faced worse odds, have we not? A goddess, a mysterious kingdom, an exiled prince… it all sounds like the stuff of legend to me.”
Heimdall’s golden eyes lingered on them for a long, tense moment, his gaze sharp and unwavering. Finally, he let out a slow, resigned sigh. Their words held merit, he would not deny it.
Their loyalty to Thor was commendable, without a doubt. Yet, their pride blinded them, or perhaps it was simply that they did not see what he saw. Whatever the reason, he knew that making an enemy of this Goddess was not an option.
Not while the All-Father slept the Odin sleep. None but him could match her.
Heimdall’s gaze remained fixed on the distant, swirling threads of the Bifrost, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he considered their request. He respected their loyalty, their bravery, but this was not a simple matter of finding a lost friend.
“No,” Heimdall said at last, his deep voice carrying a note of finality. “I cannot send you to Midgard.”
Sif’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin, determined line as she took a step forward. “What do you mean, ‘you cannot’? Thor is our brother, our friend. We must find him.”
Heimdall turned to face her fully, his golden eyes locking onto hers, his expression as unyielding as the great stone walls of Asgard. “And yet, without the permission of your king, I cannot send you. To do so would be to defy the will of the throne, to risk open conflict with a goddess whose power we do not yet understand. You ask me to risk Asgard itself for the sake of your friendship.”
Volstagg’s thick brows drew together in a deep, frustrated scowl, his massive hands clenching into fists at his sides. “We do not fear this Arthuria Pendragon, Heimdall. We are warriors, and we will not abandon our brother.”
“And yet, it is not only your lives you would risk,” Heimdall replied, his golden eyes flicking from one face to the next, his tone low and grave. “It is the peace of Asgard, the lives of every man, woman, and child within these walls.
This Arthuria is not some mortal warlord, not some petty king. She is a goddess, a being of immense power, one who has claimed dominion over a portion of Midgard and established her rule with terrifying speed and efficiency. To cross her would be to invite disaster.”
Fandral’s usual easy smile had faded, his expression turning uncharacteristically grim as he met Heimdall’s steady gaze. “Then what do you suggest, Heimdall? Are we to simply abandon our friend, to leave Thor to his fate in this strange, unknown kingdom?”
Heimdall’s jaw tightened, his massive, intricately engraved sword rising slightly from the polished floor of the observatory as his golden eyes flicked back to the distant, shimmering threads of the Bifrost. “
Seek the permission of your king,” he said at last, his deep, resonant voice echoing off the polished walls of the observatory. “Or the blessing of the Queen Mother. Only then will I open the bridge for you.”
(End of chapter)
So here we have another major change: Heimdall is not willing to send those four down to get Thor. And I’m sure that won’t mess up the events, right?
It's not like those four leaving pushed Loki to try to kill Thor or destroy Jotunheim.
Comments
Hooli4ss
They better have that same energy when they meet The Once and Future King. Good writing .
