vi.
the woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep,  
 
and miles to go before I sleep. . .

robert frost.

✧   ✧   ✧

     "FROZEN HELLS, LOKI!" Ylva's voice craned to be heard over the frigid winds. It felt like millions of shards of glass were biting into her skin. She pulled her thick, carmine coat closer, not wanting any inch of her flesh to be exposed. "Did you drop us off in Jotunheim?"

     "No," Loki chuckled, and if Ylva's skin wasn't a shade as blue as ice, it would have bloomed red in frustration. The audacity, she thought, to laugh in this situation. The fact that he was so calm, cutting through the deep snow like a sharp dagger, while she battled to clamp her chattering teeth down irked her even more. "We're in the Land of Frozen Oceans, where Ormr the Hungry slumbers."

     If his hand wasn't supporting her, Ylva would have smacked it away in outrage. Instead she settled for a scowl that could turn milk sour.

     The planet was nothing but endless water, with only a few mountains surfacing in the colossal expanse. Although the time of orbit deemed it the 'safer' time to be on the surface (the thunderous waves had calmed, and took on a fresh, harder than steel blanket of ice), there was still the risk of tremors. The ice could crack whenever it wished, and swallow them whole.

     "You should have told me where we were going," Ylva said, tightening her grip with Loki's as a shiver racked her body. Her balance wavered on the slippery ice. "I could have packed supplies, like food, or paper to write my dying will on."

    Loki adjusted the strap of the leather satchel on his back. "I've already taken care of all that. Even picked up extra ink for you. Make sure to leave your family recipes to me, would you?"

     "How kind of you, maybe you could have extended that kindness and dropped us off closer to our destination?"

     Loki sighed, the way one would when explaining to a child. "And risk the heat of the Bifrost melting the ice, sending us to watery graves? No, the only strong surface was where we landed."

     "Right, and where exactly are we going?"

     "One of my Father's vaults."

     Ylva grew solemn, concerned at their actions. "Come again? We're stealing from your Father?" The ground rumbled. Behind them, she heard the splinter of ice, followed by the overwhelming boom of water as it ate it up. She dared a glance back: the path that had their footprints was now nothing but a blue abyss of churning waves for as far as she could see through the wall of falling snow. "Explain before we die, or there will be nowhere in Valhalla for you to hide from my wrath."

     "Why would I ever want to hide from you?"

     "You're making threatening you very hard for me," she muttered and then clicked into seriousness. Loki was avoiding her question. "I need answers, Loki. How did you find this vault? And does your Father know?"

     Loki rolled his shoulders, inhaled, and exhaled slowly, drawing his time. "My Father has many vaults, scattered throughout the realms. This one . . . was hidden, forgotten, and never meant to be found." He grew silent, and the only sound to be heard was the crunch of their footsteps and the winds howl. "It took a lot of favors and hunting, but I found the barest of truths about it. Put the pieces together and here we are."

    "So Odin does not know?"

    "No."

    "I'm willing to risk angering him, if it means saving Calder." She swallowed. "Which is why you should have let me go about this on my own."

     "I'd be a fool to let you come here by yourself. The only reason I brought you along, against my better judgement, is because I trust you can handle yourself." He stretched his neck, and his ebony locks dripped snow off their tips. "And, you know, what better time for us to bond than in the face of strife, hm? See some sites---though it's mostly ice, still a nice change---and loot ancient vaults. Quite exciting!"

    Ylva stopped, still holding Loki's hand. He turned to her, curious about the action. "Thank you, my darling. I have no words to express how much this means to me, how much you mean to me. I know it can't be easy for you, to risk your Father's rage like this."

     He tightened his hand on hers. "For you? I'd risk his rage and more, in a heartbeat, again and again." His signature lopsided smirk graced his lips. "And I guess for your brother, too. He's not so bad, when he's not spouting nonsense to Fandral."

     They walked in comfortable silence after that. Though the crashes behind them continued, Ylva found a moment to catch her breath through the ordeal. The wind had lessened and the shove and blinding blur of the blizzard cleared, like curtains being swept back. Ahead of them, with its sharp peaks the color of the midnight sky, was a chalk white moutain that disappeared into the  matted clouds. It was a deadly beacon of hope to her wistful eyes.

    At the very base of the mountain, they stopped before a thick and smooth slab of stone that stretched for miles on either side, to catch their breaths. After fuelling up on sweet bread and a cup of warming ale, they felt renewed.

     Their walk continued until the surface of the stone grew strange with markings, first incoherent, and then with sprawling images of Yggdrasil, the world tree. Ylva trailed her fingers over the roots as they followed it. It lead them, like a trail of bread crumbs, to a wide, towering door. On the door was a carving of a serpent, coiled and ferocious. Where the eye of the serpent should have been, was a hollow, empty hole. It looked like something belonged there.

     "I need your locket," Loki said, his hands pressed on either side of the eye socket. "It's the missing piece."

     Ylva cocked her head in disbelief like a bird seeing something new for the first time. "You're just going to spring that on me and, once again, explain nothing?"

     "Your father, Halvar, great strategist and adviser to my Father, even greater confident," Loki said, wiping dust off the serpent. "It is my belief, that my Father gave him the piece for safekeeping. Things before our time transpired, so passing the thing down to you wouldn't be an issue."

     Ylva never wore the locket, just kept it safe, locked away to collect cobwebs. No one would have expected that the frail, silver thing was a key, and certainly not her. Nor would she have come to the belief that the green emerald inside it, so vivid like hell fire, would be a long lost eye.

     She handed it over, unsettled. "Shows how much we really know about our own parents."

     The doors creaked open once the serpent was whole, its new eye glinted at them as if in gratitude. Ylva took a few steps back as a gust of wind and a belowing groan crept out of the entrance. Inside was nothing but darkness.

    "Gentleman first?" she asked, not in the slightest eager to step inside.

     Loki scoffed, rolled his eyes. He waved at the floating lantern that had lit their path, and it drifted into the dark. It's orange light rolled over the walls, and the two friends stepped into the glow.

     Water dripped off the high roof of rock and onto valuables stacked against the cold walls. In the dim light, Ylva saw gold coins that shone like water under the sun; jewels, cut finely, and some left natural like thick clumps of rock-like clay; there were crowns made from oak to copper, from dainty and intricate to brash and, frankly, ugly to Ylva's taste.

     Deeper in, the cave floor dipped into a tunnel, and opened up to a echoing, round room held up by pillars. At the edge of it waited a deep drop, and far below the roar of water rushing was heard.

     Everything in the room had Ylva feeling curious and disturbed. She had never seen such unique weapons in her life, nor had she seen the murals of foreign cultures, and books in archaic languages. These had been plundered, she knew, its people cut down for it. How many people died for this, just so it could be locked away?

    Loki commanded the lantern to settle on a round table at the center. It's surface was scratched, and dented, but the scrolls with their fine red ink and threads of gold remained pristine.
   
     "Why would your Father have all of this and seal it away?" Ylva asked. "Why seek it out in the first place?"

     Loki rolled his shoulders the way a cat would bask in sunlight. He seemed at home, his eyes hungry for what he saw. "It's not my Father's. That goes against his beliefs. My assumption is this was passed down to him. Our history isn't one without bloodshed, I believe this is the spoils of wars long forgotten."

     Ylva walked up to a shelf of what she hoped was apothecary, and not more poison. Wherever it was, Vanir magic had a twisted, uneasy signature, like an itch in a deep cut. Ylva felt it radiating off the bottles filled with muddy water. In fact, she noted, the entire room held the aura. Everything there was taken from the Vanir.

     "You know, if thousands and thousands of years ago, we went to war with our equals and they crushed us, took things from our history, almost left us with nothing, I would have went further than poisoned blades," she whispered, almost to herself. "I haven't seen any of the remaining Vanir with any of this."

     "You'd have left them with this? Imagine what more their magic could have done to us," Loki chided. He pulled out a book from the satchel and flicked through the pages. He handed it to her, and on it in his neat sketches, was a drooping flower with petals that curled at the ends like tresses. "You need to look for this. It's long extinct now, but I'm hoping there's a preserved sample of it here."

     Ylva set about her search. While Loki dug through the treasures with utmost care, handling the jars of strange herbs the way one would carry a newborn, she did the opposite. She wouldn't have been so haphazard, letting trinkets and pouches filled with strange metals hit the floor, if her brother's life wasn't on the line.

     Left without distraction, and taunted by time as she raced to find the flower, Ylva's thoughts started to spiral. After a few waves of solitude, she asked a question that had followed her like a dark cloud, "Would you ever leave Asgard, to build a new life?"

     Loki snorted, almost as if her question was what color is the sky. "No, why would I? It's everything, and more."

     "Has the wine not lost its sweetness, the company become oh so boring and the music utterly deafening? Don't you want more to life than all of that?" She opened a bottle, and a cloud of black dust spat out. "Besides plays and feasts, what more can Asgard offer?"

     He strummed his fingers against a book, a hint of humor in his eyes. "You're right. I should ask for a statue to liven things up, and better wine."

     Ylva turned away, annoyed. He was taking it as a joke, like how could one possibly not want the gem of Asgard? She would admit it, she wasn't so humble, either. She loved it all, the luxury and beauty. Except, she wanted to find that beauty elsewhere. What masterpieces could be found among the stars?

     "You're serious?" Loki asked. His footsteps approached her. "Am I not enough? Calder? Hell, even my brother?"

     "You are, always will be," she admitted, though she refused to look at him. She was stubborn. "But my purpose is gone, and things just feel off. I want more."

     "I understand. That's why you came with us to Vanaheim, isn't it? For more?"

     "Yes, and it felt like a breath of fresh air." She scrunched her face up. "Before the bloodshed and you know, poison stuff."

    He was standing beside her now, shifting through the baubles and potions she hadn't gone through yet. "Then let's set off on more adventures, just you and I. No filthy battles, please."

     "And where would we go?" Ylva gave in and looked at him. His emerald eyes were so serious and promising that it alarmed her.

     "Everywhere, and anywhere." Loki raised a perfect eyebrow and sighed. "But we'd have to return home, you know. Mother would miss us, and of course my oaf brother would destroy the kingdom without my advice."

     "I could compromise. I know how important," she cleared her throat, trying to find a less colorful word for the inner workings of running a kingdom, "royal duties mean to you."

     "Besides, I could always make Asgard more for you, when I'm in a better position," Loki said, looking away. "It doesn't have to stay the way it is."

     She perched her hand onto his shoulder, her curiosity piqued as she stared up at him. "Tell me, my darling, what would you change?"

    "I think you'll just have to stick around longer to wait and see. I hate ruined surprises," he promised, the same way he always made promises to her, with a glint in his eyes and vulnerability all over his handsome face.

     Ylva was going to speak, to let honey words full of sincerity out, but something caught her eye. At the back of the shelf, blocked and hidden away, was a small glass prism. Inside, the flower reflected back at her. Preserved perfectly, waiting for her.

     "I found it!" she almost yelled in relief and joy, her voice cracking over the the cave walls.  "The flower, the cure to saving Calder."

author's note
Thank you so much for reading this book, even though it went on a hiatus. I appreciate your support so much, and it's such a joy to write this story for you! I'll see you in the next chapter 💞