Recompense [Fólkvangr End, Book 1] [Loki Fanfiction]

Chapter Thirty-Three

Author's Note: Hello my lovlies! I would absolutely love to generate a little more interest in the series, and it has been a sort of slow going per chapter. However! I'm happy to keep writing. There is so much more to explore, don't you worry. Also, I'd like to apprecitate Tom Hiddleston for second here for making the character of Loki so wonderful to explore and work with. If he hadn't brought Loki to life in the way we all love, none of this would be possible. Also, a brief reminder that only original characters and plot are mine, the rest belong to respective rights at Marvel and Disney. Also, also, also, a big old shoutout to new and old fans, namely my friend Diana who has plunged headfirst into the world of Thor, Loki and all things Avengers and into the story of Valkyrie and Loki. You all rock! Don't forget to comment and vote!

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“You’ve got to cease this endless lamenting, Valkyrie,” Sif says for the twenty-third time today. I wish I wasn’t counting, but I’ve nothing better to do.

For once, I finally answer her, “Tell me what I am supposed to do instead?”

“Sorrow can be channeled into more productive activities than crying,” she says. I repress a scream of anguish. She awkwardly puts her hand on my shoulder, patting it lightly. “I do not mean to offend you, I understand that you were deeply traumatized by Thanos.”

“Putting it like that doesn’t make it any better, Sif.”

“Yes, of course,” she bows her head slightly, and leaves me be. I sit in the midst of the library and wonder if there is any way to get Loki out. But I continue to fail to see a solution. Not to mention my head hurts so excruciatingly that I can’t sort my thoughts out.

“Odin requests your presence,” a familiar voice calls from the door. I turn and see my father, looking calm and cool and collected against the door frame. I frown at him.

“Yeah, no offense, but I don’t give two shits about what Odin requests right about now,” I grumble as I get to my feet, seeing that my sanctuary has once again been penetrated. I collect my book, a large volume on Asgardian justice, and head towards the door. My father blocks the way.

“What if I request your presence?” He arches an eyebrow and I sigh. Loudly.

“I especially don’t give a shit about talking to you,” I say firmly. “By the way, really appreciate you and mom doing your best to come and rescue me. Oh wait, that’s right! You fucking didn’t.”

I push past him and I just clear the door when his icy hand wraps its way around my bicep. I try and shake him off but his grip only tightens. I turn to look at him and his skin is a deep blue, eyes the bloodiest red. It takes my breath away for just a moment—I’ve never seen him in his Jotun form, and I’m surprised. The raised bumps on his skin, his unique markings, wrap around his eyes and dot the bridge of his nose. He looks…menacing.

“Why should I?”

“I want to help you get Loki out. But you cannot do so without my help.”

“I think I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, thanks. I’ve done it once before and I can most certainly do it again,” I challenge. A slow smile spreads to his lips and his grip tightens. “Dad, let go of me.”

He relaxes his hold and I am able to get loose of him. My head is pounding and I wince—something is wrong. Something about all of this seems misplaced. And there is that nagging feeling in the back of my head that I am forgetting something so very important. I back away and turn and break into a run.

The sound of his chilling voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“I know about your relationship with him and do not think for a moment that I will keep that from Odin. I intend to use that very fact against the both of you. Unless, of course, you choose to help me.”

My voice is quiet and I do not turn around, “Help you?”

“You will help Forseti and I conquer Asgard and Jotunheim, or so help me, I will ruin everything you love.”

My resolve crumbles and I have to look at him. There are tears in my eyes again and I am at a loss for words. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because I can!” He laughs deeply and I stare at him. I slowly start to shake my head back and forth.

“No. No! I don’t care, tell whoever you want. I am not helping you destroy or conquer anything!”

“Shame. I suppose I shall just have to get Thor and Loki out of my way now,” he threatens.

I hesitate, “You won’t.”

“Valkyrie!” Thor struts down the hallway, smiling widely at me. I look back at my father and I rush toward Thor.

“Remember our little chat, Valkyrie,” my father winks and then struts off down the hallway, whistling to himself. I look up as Thor offers me his arm and I do not know what I am supposed to do. Why can’t I ever have things figured out for me? How am I supposed to know what is the right thing or the wrong thing? And when your father threatens to kill everyone you care about—what then? Hmm? Some god out there has dealt me a cruel hand of fate and must be getting their sick kicks from watching me squirm.

“What does Odin want from me?” I ask as I take Thor’s arm. How do I play normal? I don’t know what normal even looks like.

Thor shrugs, “Assumedly he wishes to discuss the situation of Loki. Hopefully he will see that there is no purpose in imprisoning him again.”

“Hopefully,” I agree as we walk into the throne room. There is still a slight hitch in my step from not having fully healed. I refused the bedrest that Thor tried to enforce upon me—I’m not going to lay around uselessly and just let the injustice continue. Though it seems I now have a larger problem on my hands.

Thor bows his head slightly at his father upon the throne. I scan the crowd of Aesir faces but realize I actually recognize very few. No sign of the Sif and the Warriors Three. Though of course, there is Forseti. Forseti. I freeze upon gazing upon his face. He smirks at me, arching an eyebrow. I am uncertain if he is aware of what my father told me, but regardless, he has always managed to chill me to the bone.

“Are you intentionally ignoring my words, Miss Sutton, or have you suddenly become hard of hearing?” Odin asks. I snap my head back to look at him and a frown settles onto my face.

“I don’t know, Odin, though I am fairly sure that the fifteen separate times my head was fully submerged in water until I passed out may have done some sort of damage. I’m not an expert, of course,” I retort. His posture immediately stiffens. “I’m sorry, does the topic make you uncomfortable? Though, if you truly wish to know what uncomfortable feels like, I am certain I can tell you how the bottoms of my feet were cut open and I was forced to stand with weights upon my shoulders. Maybe it’s better I show you—”

“Valkyrie!” Odin snaps, rising from his seat.

“Well then, I suppose not.” I snap, glaring at Odin. He is appalled, but certainly not afraid of me. And I am not afraid of him. “What do you want from me, Odin?”

“I wish to make it abundantly clear to you that it is on your head what happens to Loki. I will release him unto your care if you promise from now on to bear equal responsibility for his actions. This is the last time I will simply release him,” Odin sits back down, pausing a moment. “The next time, his punishment will not be so forgiving.”

“I fail to see how torturing someone from inside their own head is forgiving, Odin,” I argue. There is a sad smile on Odin’s lips.

“Then you truly are blind.”

A moment of pure silence passes between us. I shift uncomfortably on my aching feet. “I have grown tired of your mockery.”

“It would do you well to learn your place, child.”

“It would, but that isn’t how I tend to do things.”

Odin rises again, calmly stepping down from his throne and crossing towards me. He leans close to me and stares straight into my eyes. For a moment it feels as though he is peering straight into my very heart. “Take care of my son, child. I am putting foolish faith into your hands again because I think you will do him good. Do not make me regret my choice.”