//------------------------------// // Entry Thirteen // Story: The Hermit's Tale // by BlackRoseRaven //------------------------------// Entry Thirteen The following entry details my wedding with Terra and important events surrounding this ceremony. I will be copying this into my personal journal, but feel that it is also important to the continuity of this narrative: furthermore, events detailed later on- I apologize for the abruptness. My hands are shaking. I'm afraid. I feel Terra's forelimbs around me, but I also feel her trembles through them, that she is afraid as well. Gymbr and Hel are both... unhappy with us, and there may be someone or something else watching us at this moment in time. I can't concentrate and I've already ruined five sheets of paper from mistakes and being unable to find the words and letting myself get startled and damaging the paper. I don't know what to do. Something is after me. For all these years I've been paranoid and afraid, but now, whatever's been picking at my senses, whatever I sensed, felt was going to happen, is finally happening. I'm attaching the wedding events below. A small blessing is that the wedding itself went well, although there were already... oddities that both Terra and I noticed. The events that follow begin to detail why now... I'm afraid that something could happen any day now. It's the day of my marriage, and I'm terrified out of my mind. Terra and I have spent months, almost a year, planning for this one moment. Trying to force different laws, pieces of ceremony, ritual and legal bureaucracy together into one intricate jigsaw puzzle that still doesn't quite form a perfect picture but will hopefully be... close enough. I'm standing in a dressing room, staring blankly into a full length mirror, my hands trying to smooth imaginary wrinkles out of a pressed and perfect dark green suit. I'm wearing bone cufflinks and the matching necklace made for me by Terra, and a belt with a large silver buckle. I hate large buckle belts and I hate pants and I hate how this spiderweb silk dress shirt feels warm and my loafers are tight and I'm itchy and a thousand other complaints run through my mind, all trying vainly to mask one simple thing. I'm absolutely terrified out of my mind. I breathe slowly in and out as I stare at myself in the mirror, and then Excelsior leans up beside me with an awkward smile. He's in his own little half-suit, and Pipsqueak is on my other side, beaming and bouncing up and down in a gaudy, frilly, ugly thing that I would gladly send him to some miserable pit of Helheim for wearing if I could cite a legal precedent... if it weren't my wedding day, of course, and I wasn't feeling so deranged I can't even complete a logical infinitive or participle. I'm absolutely, utterly terrified, more than I've ever been. I'm supposed to march out there, into the grand hall we rented, in front of the citizenry of Heaven and nobles and very important guests from Helheim, and marry Terra. In a ceremony concocted from dozens of different things all meant to stand alone as parts of their own specific faiths, instead of a... a slosh, a hodgepodge, a potpourri of a ritual that is as likely to invoke the curses and wrath of a thousand spirits as it is their blessing. I can barely breathe. My head is light. I feel woozy. I feel dazed. And by Mimir's damned and ugly and accursed head, I'm actually happy about everything. I just wish that half of Terra's clan wasn't out there, and they weren't all enormous Ironjaw dragons of varying Wrath and Pride demonic heritages. “Sir, relax! This is going to be the greatest moment of your life thus far, sir, just you wait and see.” Pipsqueak says positively, and I scowl at the pony, but in spite of the Blessed's age he retains a youthful vigor all too clear in his childish bouncing. “Why, everyone's eager to see you, and you've got nobles from all over and this is all very big sir, very big, very important!” “Very important, yes. It is.” I mumble, and I rub slowly at my face before carefully brushing back my coiffed mane, then I straighten and grimace as I look down at my black hands, flexing them slowly. “You have the rings, correct?” “Of course sir, I certainly do, sir!” Pipsqueak replies quickly, nodding hurriedly and positively beaming. I suppose this would be what most people call 'cute,' but right now it doesn't do anything but make my mood feel even more sour. And summons up some bitter, ironic entertainment at the situation I'm in. Aren't they the ones who are supposed to be scared and I'm supposed to the rational, concrete one? “Are you alright, Lord Kvasir?” I fix a sour look on Pipsqueak, leaning slowly forwards, and the Blessed earth pony winces and shrinks slowly back as Excelsior clears his throat awkwardly. But after a moment I sigh raggedly and look uneasily back at the mirror, making unnecessary adjustments for the thousandth time to my outfit as I mutter: “I'm looking forwards to this being over and resuming some kind of... normalcy.” Excelsior mumbles... I think it's something encouraging, and Pipsqueak just nods rapidly as he straightens. Then they both look over their shoulders as a tall, metal-colored unicorn strides into the room, saying in eloquent tones: “Lord Kvasir. May we have a moment of your time?” “Of... of course, Gemini.” I say uneasily, but I quickly clear my throat and straighten, and my moment of disquiet goes completely unnoticed, likely thanks to the anxiety I'm already in. I gesture moodily at Excelsior and Pipsqueak, and they both nod awkwardly before shuffling for the door and leaving. The metallic unicorn stands and smiles in its disconnected way, and I grimace and shake my head a little until I hear the click of the door and the voices beyond the thin paneling fade. Then I close my eyes and rub slowly at my forehead, muttering: “This is a bad idea, Gymbr.” “No, it is not.” Gymbr sounds almost offended, but also... amused, in a sense. I shake my head a little, and when I open my eyes, I see the creature is smiling at me... perhaps a little more openly now. “We are safe, Lord Kvasir. We have concealed ourselves well enough that not even Freya will have any suspicions, nor the reason to act on them.” There's silence as I digest this. It sounds confident, and I lick my lips slowly before nodding uneasily once. Gymbr seems pleased as it nods back, before asking a little too eagerly: “And where are your rings? The rings that will symbolize your bond with Terra? We wish to see them. We are your best stallion, we desire to give them our blessing and partake further in the ceremony.” “Pipsqueak has them. He's the ringbearer, Gymbr: it's a childish position that suits his... childish energy.” I make a face and shake my head briefly, and Gymbr frowns at me enormously, which surprises me. I tilt my head a little, but when Gymbr remains silent in its disguised form, I shake my head and say finally: “There are few positions more important than the one you will be filling, Gymbr.” Gymbr doesn't look thrilled with this answer, replying moodily, in a voice that takes on sharper female tones: “All the same, we desired to place our blessing upon your material Promises to one-another. This was important to us. We believe that we imparted this onto you in so many words before.” “Well, if it's that important to you, Gymbr, I'll speak to Pipsqueak and have him show you the rings.” I say finally, and Gymbr looks only a little mollified by this. “Good. We also demand that both you and Terra are present for this short ceremony. We wish to honor you both in full.” Gymbr says firmly, in a voice that says it won't take no for an answer... and yet all the same, I make a face as I realize that 'no' is exactly the answer I have to give it. “Gymbr, Terra's traditions state that the bride and groom may not see each other during a thirty hour period before they meet for the ceremony. That's not going to be possible: she's not going to want to violate any tenets of her beliefs, and I'm not going to ask her to, either.” I reply quietly. There's silence for a moment, and then the creature slowly narrows its eyes, which glow bright green as a distinct blue light burns through its breast, burning a hole in the pony disguise its wearing like a torch melting its way through wax paper. “We do not believe we heard you correctly, Lord Kvasir. By all means your word is law to us, but we detected a hint of rudeness in your voice we do not like. One does not need to be rude to be commanding. One should be willing to recognize and respect our power even while thinking of us as subordinate.” “You know that I do, Gymbr.” I sigh tiredly, rubbing slowly at my face: it's funny how my anxiety and worry over today is able to outweigh my much more rational anxieties and worries about a monster that can easily obliterate me. Then again, it's not like Terra can't easily kill me if the urge so takes her, and if I screw up this wedding I'll have both Terra and her entire clan eager to do a thousand horrible things to me. Gymbr looks ruffled by this response, and maybe a little surprised by my lack of fear, my refusal to kowtow to it as I might have in the past. It shifts a little, then raises its head as its horn glows, repairing its disguise and concealing its identity wholly again before it huffs loudly and turns around, shoving out though the door grouchily. I'm... surprised, really, by the behavior. But I feel a little proud of myself, too. I'm glad I can go into the wedding ceremony... feeling a little proud of myself. I do wonder if there will be consequences later, but... I don't have the time to think about that as I turn back towards the mirror, mentally checking my internal clock as I smooth down my suit one final time before I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands, muttering: “You can do this, Kvasir. Get out there, you can't be late for this ceremony. You know that everything has to be as perfect as possible today, you owe that to Terra.” I look up, meeting my own eyes, and then I reach up and silently touch the mirror for a moment before nodding once and pushing myself away. I turn around and head out into the hall, and I can hear Terra's voice echoing excitedly through the thin walls. It makes me smile a little as I reach out and silently touch the hardwood surface, thinking that in only minutes, she'll be my wife, my Queen, at my side. No longer my mistress, but... my equal. Then a throat clears itself, and I look awkwardly to the side to see both Excelsior and Pipsqueak are standing nearby. A faint flush crawls up from my collar as my features tighten, but Pipsqueak only smiles at me brightly as Excelsior says awkwardly: “It's... good to see you smile. Sir.” “What are you two doing? Go join the others and get ready for the ceremony.” I say crankily, and they both nod hurriedly before turning and scurrying off. I sigh tiredly at this, then shake my head slowly and mutter less-than-sensible words under my breath. I give them a few seconds' head start, then stride in their wake: all the same, I'm delayed on the way to the hall where the ceremony is supposed to take place. Yet it's all just a blur: I greet people, I half-force smiles, I nod and accept compliments, but I'm not really aware of what's going on at the same time. I only process information and give the appropriate – or what I hope is the appropriate – response while on autopilot. Eventually, I manage to make my way to the grand hall where this... ceremony is being conducted. To be entirely honest, I'm still not wholly sure what I should actually call it. I just know that this is supposed to have a little bit of everything in it, and it's more about Terra than it is me, because I really don't have any... traditions or culture, nor did I ever anticipate that one day I'd be... married. It terrifies me, as I walk up the red carpet, looking at the seats on either side... and swallowing and paling slightly at the benches full of scary, bone-covered tribal dragon-demons all glaring at me furiously, a few of them with their own metal scales hammered into the shape of metal armor, others adorned only by teeth and claws and... yes, those are the skulls of smaller creatures. I quickly turn my gaze back ahead, slowing as I approach the stage. Pipsqueak is already there, and so is the large, elderly dragon from Terra's clan that's supposed to marry us. He's very quiet and ancient, and he nods to me when I draw close. I nod respectfully back, then awkwardly bow my head to avoid too much eye contact, feeling... meek, I suppose, in the presence of this enormous being. He's a demon, like most of Terra's family. It admittedly worries me just a little that most of her clan are demons: not because of any personal bias, but more because it makes me more concerned as to what they'll do to me if I screw any of this up. I need to stop worrying about that. I badly need to stop worrying about that. I breathe slowly in and out, then look up as Gymbr – Gemini, think of him as Gemini for now to avoid any mistakes – approaches down the nave. It looks at me steadily, and I look back... but after a moment, the god nods almost grudgingly, showing that it will at least... bear through this ceremony. I smile in appreciation, and Gymbr seems to loosen up a little from this as well. It takes its place beside me silently, and for a few minutes, there's only a hum of conversation, a sensation of something building as the seats fill with an expectant audience. Somewhere in the middle row, I can see Brynhild and Freya and their family, including the Draconequus that Freya seems so taken with. In the past I'd make some sarcastic remark about this, but in the present I can only emphasize with them. But soon, choral music begins, sung by a small band of Blessed ponies. I look moodily over at them, but it serves to quiet everyone present even as the anticipation clearly grows. I reach up and play uneasily with my necklace as I breathe slowly in and out, staring down that central path through the hall and feeling a strange shiver run down my spine as I think: Oh Mimir's head, this is it. This is it. She's coming. Terra's coming. This is it. I close my eyes, for only a moment; when I open them again, I see her there, striding towards me with a soft smile, followed by two enormous dragon-sisters from her clan and Hel. It's awkward, I realize, that... the people seconding us happen to be... well, there's no need to explain it. The awkwardness is plenty self-apparent. Terra's metal scales have been smoothed out, and she's adorned with charms of bone and shaped ivory jewelry and silk. She's beautiful. She's a gorgeous vision, and I can see her eyes glowing with joy even beneath the veil masking her features. I smile at her, and steady myself as best I can. My legs are shaking and I feel a twisting inside me and... I'm having trouble processing what's happening. It's all so... so surreal. So beyond real. She reaches the stage, and her clan-sisters move off to the side while Hel takes her place beside her. The goddess, for once, respects the ceremony... but it probably helps half the room is glaring dragons from a clan that apparently has served Hel for generations, and Gymbr is only a few feet away in his unicorn disguise. Terra holds up a claw. I gently grasp it in my hands as I smile a little across at her, and there's silence for a few moments before we both look towards the elder dragon, the master of the ceremonies, the... whatever his official title is. I can't think. I'm too... excited, happy, anxious, amazed. And as the choral music fades out, silence falls, I feel all eyes turn upwards, and the elder raises his head high as the ceremony begins. He speaks clearly, calmly, in the language of the old demons, his voice sonorous and strong and echoing through the room: “Before me stands Kvasir of Valhalla, and Terra of Clan Isernertos. Today, they shall be bonded, joined as one, and begin a life together. Today, Valhalla and Isernertos will form an alliance that shall cement our families as one.” I smile and feel a little lightheaded. Terra raises her head proudly, squeezing my hands as the elder gazes between us, then he leans down and asks her first: “Is he worthy, to join our clan, to be known by our name, to stand by your side?” “Yes.” Terra answers firmly, looking up and smiling radiantly. The elder smiles back, and then his eyes turn to me. “Is she worthy, to join your clan, to be known by your name, to stand by your side?” he asks, and I feel the proud eyes of Ironjaw dragons burning into me, as if trying to dare me to deny it. “Yes.” I say clearly, meeting the elder's eyes, and he smiles. And I think I feel... approval, but I don't dare look behind me. I don't dare move a muscle out of place. The Elder raises his head, then he says softly: “And now, the Claddagh.” I smile, but for a moment, there's nothing but awkward silence before I slowly turn a baleful glare towards Pipsqueak, who blinks and looks up dumbly before I hiss through my teeth: “The rings!” Pipsqueak squeaks, then fumbles wildly at his vest: the boxes that the rings are kept in pop free and fall to the ground. I fight back a blush as Terra only giggles behind her blue, lacy veil, and Pipsqueak scrambles for the boxes before he quickly holds them both up with a weak grin. The Elder takes them, as calm and implacable as ever, and he pops both boxes open to gaze down at the golden bands with a smile. One is a simple, plain thing: the other is shaped like two claws, gently grasping a heart topped with a crown. Symbols of friendship, love, and loyalty. Something ancient, and not of Valhalla, and that required a titanic effort to inherit from Terra's mother: just looking at it makes me remember the Proving I had to go through with her father. The Elder looks at me, and my hands leave Terra's claws so I can take the box, and her ring. I breathe slowly, turning my eyes towards my veiled love, and then I say quietly: “Terra of Isenertos, I have earned the respect of your clan and the ring of your ancestors, and now I ask for your love. Will you accept me as husband, and stand beside me as wife?” “Yes.” Terra's eyes shine through the veil as she gazes down at me, and she raises her left claw, and I smile as I carefully slip the ring onto it, until the crown rests back against her knuckle. And, unnoticed, I slide my finger against it, and the ring tightens as it gleams red for a moment: I spent days polishing it with my blood, making it a beacon I can always see, always follow, like Terra's necklace is for me. And I know Terra feels it, as she catches my hand for a moment and squeezes it fiercely before I can pull away. The Elder turns his eyes to Terra, and she releases my hand only so her nimble claws can take the last box. She takes a breath, then looks at me, and our eyes meet through her veil as she speaks, in a voice that almost trembles with emotion: “Kvasir of Valhalla, I have earned your respect, lived with your kindred, found a place here with you, and ask now for your love. Will you accept me as wife, and stand beside me as husband?” “Yes.” I say without hesitation, and I smile as Terra slides the simple golden band onto my right hand. And then, the moment it's on, we turn towards each other, joining hands and claws. The elder turns, and picks up a beautiful ribbon, woven from a multitude of different colors. He raises this and calmly twists it around our joined grip, as Terra and I gaze at each other, as he murmurs in the language of Terra's clan words I realize only now how anxious I've been to hear: “You have chosen each other, and accepted one-another. In darkness and light you shall be side-by-side; these bonds that are tied now, may they be blessed by earth and fire, tempered into iron that shall never break, never rust, never weaken.” We both bow our heads, gripping into each other as the rope is fastened and knotted, smiling as the dragon elder raises his head, saying clearly: “This represents not only the joining of two spirits into one, but two families. If they are one, then let them be treated as one, to receive as one all of our love and all of our support. Let their strength bolster each other's as one, and let our clans come together to act under a single flag for eternity and a day. And if their blessings hold true, then may eternity last forever, may their love be celebrated until the end of time.” The elder settles his claws over the tied ribbon, looking back and forth before he smiles and closes his eyes, bowing his head forward. Terra and I keep our own gazes low and humble, breathing quietly, as the elder switches back to old demonic, flowing between languages with an ease even I envy: “May your fates be intertwined, your story be as one, your loyalty never falter, and your trust never challenged. May blessings rain down upon you both.” Terra and I both look up, and we both smile. We look towards the elder, and he gazes from Terra to myself before he says softly: “The ribbon shall be loosened, but you will never part, and the bonds that tie you two shall remain forever, unbreakable by any outside force. And when I remove the ribbon, you may remove the veil, and gaze upon one another for the first time as husband and wife, as one, with nothing that can ever separate one from the other.” We both nod, and the elder draws his claws back, undoing the knot and pulling the ribbon away with the ease of long practice. Terra and I hold onto each other for only a moment longer, before our hands reach up, grasping the delicate blue silk masking her features and pushing it back, and my hands slide gently across her face for a moment as we study each other... then finally, move forwards, and our mouths meet, and we kiss. We are husband and wife, and in that moment, everything feels right. I can hardly hear the cheering. I can barely hear the congratulations. I'm barely even aware that Hel and Gymbr are both still there, one disguised and the other silent and smiling and seemingly completely out of character. I can barely keep track of what's going on. The toasts. The cheers. The shouting and my fumbled speech and dancing with Terra. Accepting congratulations and gifts from guests. How Valhalla mingles with demons and dragons. Switching back and forth so often between dialects as I try to keep track of all the conversations with all the guests that it all mingles into one wordy slurry. And the next thing I'm really aware of is that dinner has been eaten and things are moving into late evening and the great hall is finally, finally emptying. Brynhild is stuffing her face at the buffet table, though, and Scrivener Blooms is talking with Antares and Pipsqueak and Excelsior, and Twilight Sparkle is trying to tame that monster of a daughter of hers, Innocence. A ten year old terror who's running around all dressed up like a pony, even though she isn't, really. But Brynhild's family is not something I try and concern myself with, since every time I get involved with them it causes me some kind of trouble. I glance over at Terra, and sigh a little as I see my bride is gazing with wonderment at the little girl. I shift awkwardly, then glance around and realize with unease that Freya is speaking with Gymbr. “Twilight Sparkle is by far the most pleasant of the three, even if that filly is a nightmare. Go and talk to her. I'll... see if there's a problem with our guest.” “Oh good, I was waiting for you to get to me!” Hel swoops in out of thin air, and I wince as the ice puppet wraps an arm around my shoulders and yanks me away, chattering happily the whole time as she half-carries me off. “I loved this, you know, loved this... loved even more the fact we all knew it was just hokery-tomfoolery from the way you guys mixed a whole lot of random things together to make your 'however the hell you like it' ceremony...” I glare at Hel, but her parlor trick of talking and walking does its job before I fully comprehend what's just happened: she's distracted me while dragging me out of the hall and into a private room. She half-flings me into the center of it as she kicks the door closed behind her, and then she glowers at me and put her hands on her hips as she snaps: “Which leads me to ask why the hell I wasn't the official officiant and if this is some power play, Kvasir, because it would be very rude to try and sweep the clan that happens to make up a large part of my personal guard off their feet and romance them on up into Heaven, you assnut.” I don't even have words. I make a few weak attempts at coherency, then slowly close my mouth and my eyes before reaching up and rubbing at my temples. But I'm still reeling from the events of today and not precisely able to think up a response that would make sense to both myself and Hel. There are very few points that bridge logic and insanity to begin with, after all. Hel has no interest in waiting for me to formulate a real response anyway. I feel her icy fingers seize the lapels of my suit jacket and yank me up off my feet. I look up at her in surprise, opening my mouth, but she's already leaning down in my face. She's snarling, and my eyes widen as I see... anger and paranoia and contempt and... fear. Fear, yes, that's actually fear, because this isn't sane, rational, calculating Hel. This is Hel in the grips of some paranoid delusion, some fit of pique, anxious, angry, possibly violent mania. “Don't. Take. My. Things.” she hisses, and then she flings me down on my ass, knocking me sprawling back as the puppet looms over me. It's nothing comic or ridiculous or like some mean-spirited fay right now: this is a pissed off goddess whose business model revolves around torture, punishment, and insanity. This is Hel, and this is Hell, and this is quickly becoming one of my worst nightmares come to life. “Now, part of me says you're not smart enough to play Terra and begin earning the clan's loyalty and fealty over what they owe me. Part of me says you were too dumb to understand that I've been manipulating these dragons – living and dead – for a span of tens of thousands of years. Part of me thinks that you don't even understand how special Ironjaw dragons are to me, and the kind of secrets I've been ensuring continue to propagate under the covers, oh, you couldn't imagine how hard I've worked! “But part of me wonders if you've figured out a few... oh, I don't know, if you've gotten two or three layers deep in my plan. I don't think you have, but I also know that you have a brain in there.” Hel reaches down, flicks my horn, then shoves a finger up under my jaw as she narrows her eyes. “And you and Gymbr have been trying to get privy to my secrets for a while now, which I don't like. “Now, here you are. Showing off your ceremony in front of me, but making me stand to one side of Terra, shunted out of the real ceremony. Not trusting that me, me, can keep myself from causing trouble, I'm hurt!” She throws an arm across her face, arching her back, theatrical and dramatic... but as I look up at her, I still feel that sense of... intimidation. That at any moment, the wrong thing... She straightens quickly and glares down at me, then she shakes her head before saying quietly: “Look at you, afraid of me. But fear, see... fear has to be applied in the right way. If you scare people the wrong way, they react violently. They react stupidly. They rise up, in some stupid effort of rebellion, even against forces that can utterly obliterate them with a twitch, a thought, a word. It's annoying. “I know you're afraid of me, Kvasir, and that's fine and well. I want you scared of me, a little. I want to be friends, sure, but I want to be the friend, the big sister, that you know if you piss off is going to clobber you good.” Hel holds up a fist threateningly. “Because I will. I want you to remember that. And to ensure you do, let me tell you something, right here, right now, let me get something crystal clear for you: I would rather smash all my toys than hand 'em over nice and easy to you, then let you steal them from me. You ask like a good little boy, hey, we can share. You try and take what's mine, or you try and get your grubby little mitts on something better? I'll smash 'em, and I'll make sure I break all your fingers with the hammer while I'm at it!” Hel is leaning down aggressively in my face, fist raised, eyes glowing... and then she smiles suddenly and bops my nose gently before saying in a friendly voice: “Good talk.” And with that, the ice puppet turns to cold water that splashes over me and leaves me sitting in a puddle. I mouth wordlessly, then close my eyes and reach up to comb my fingers slowly through my sopping mane, shaking my head weakly, disbelievingly. I don't entirely know... what the hell just happened. I'm just able to sit and... stare blankly and... wonder what the hell just happened. After a few minutes, I pick myself unsteadily up. I can't really think, or concentrate, as I wobble slowly on my feet. I look back and forth uncertainly, then rub at my face and grimace a bit before I sigh and drop my head, shivering and brushing at myself before I grimace and wave my arm sharply to the side, not really focusing on any spell, just... lashing out with magic. Heat engulfs my body for a moment, crushes it, suffocates it... and then it's gone, and I breathe slowly, lowering my head and closing my eyes. I shake myself briefly, then slowly look up and grimace a little as I try and regain the little of my composure I can through the... the insanity and the confusion and the everything else. I absently comb down my mane as I approach the door and open it... only to find, to my surprise, Gymbr is on the other side. I open my mouth, but catch myself before I can blurt its name: a good thing, too, because Freya is watching me from across the room. I may be out of hearing range, especially with the loud conversation Terra is having with Luna, but I know that Freya can read lips and has sharp eyes. “Gemini.” I say conversationally, and then I sigh and step backwards at the insistent look that Gymbr gives me through the unicorn disguise. It enters the room, and I close the door, hoping moodily that Freya doesn't decide to use any scrying magic. I have the feeling that if I ward the door to block any magical spying, after all, it'll just lead to unwelcome questions. But in the event that anyone is listening... “What is it, Gemini? Is this about... what we discussed before the ceremony?” “No. There is... hostility in the air. W... I do not like it.” Gymbr replies after a moment, with very visible effort to refer to itself as singular. I grimace a bit: even if everything about it is undetectable, the fact that it takes so much effort just to say a single letter is probably an easy tell. And with how sharp Freya's mind is... “I think... you should leave. And trust in... me.” “What do you mean?” I feel uneasy at its choice of words, especially so soon after my confrontation with Hel. Gymbr steps forwards, its eyes narrowing before it suddenly grits its teeth and snaps its horn to the side. A black flash fills the air, and I'm almost knocked off my feet by powerful magic, dark magic; I'm stunned, but in blurs and flashes, I see the creature take back its normal shape and its soulstone core glowing brightly... And then we're somewhere else. No, that's the same floor I feel, there was no disorientation, no movement, but Gymbr has... altered reality somehow, in some way that I could never have anticipated. We're just outside of reality, yet not in the ether: we're in the same place, but not at the same time, like we're out of synch with the real world. We're in a place, I realize, that Gymbr could do anything he wanted to me, and I couldn't even cry out for help. An ironic, embittered part of me notes I probably couldn't manage that anyway. Gymbr looks at me intently, then it leans forwards and says quietly: “Something reaches for you, Lord Kvasir. Because your mind is weak, and confused. Because in the torrent of emotions, of happiness, you have shut out fear and left yourself as open and naked and vulnerable as a blossomed flower. Even Hel's words have not had the impact they should: you did not take her warning into consideration, only sought to return to your bride. She makes you weak.” “I... stop. I can't even concentrate here. Don't insult me and don't insult Terra.” I mutter, reaching up to touch my skull. My head is aching, the world feels like its spinning; Gymbr can bring me outside reality, it seems, but he can't stop the experience from punishing my mind. I force myself to look up, and I see Gymbr stride towards me, the god frowning down at me before it says quietly: “Pay attention to our warning.” “I already have more enemies than I do friends.” I mutter, my headache worsening. I close my eyes, and there are flashes of color through my brain, making my skull throb with agony. “Then... why don't you find what's threatening us? And bring me back to reality, this is supposed to be-” “You are a fool!” Gymbr shouts, but a moment later, we're back in physical reality. I almost fall backwards from the very literal way I seem to be thrown back into my body, gasping and shaking for a moment before I look up in surprise as the entity approaches, growling at me: “We have given you everything, including our own servitude, and you have gone from too afraid and weak to command us to rude and calling us fool, to thinking that we are jumping at shadows, relying more on Hel than on us!  All you think of is courting your wife, then court her, and we shall do all the work for you as we have always done, because you are not willing to get your hands dirty, because you are pathetic, because you are figurehead of Valhalla but shall never be King!” And then Gymbr is gone, and I touch my own breast and stare into the space where the creature had been only a moment ago. My mouth works slowly, and then I look down silently and close my eyes and feel... I feel hurt. I don't like how hurt I feel by the creature's words... not by all the times it's choked me or attacked me or done something else terrible during its bouts of madness. I sigh quietly, then stand up and head for the door... but I halt there. I reach up, pressing my hand against it. I breathe slowly in and out, feeling the warmth that permeates the grand hall, the energy still in the air from the ceremony, the wedding, the good times that began to slow only a short while ago... but here, has already been stolen, ruined, violated. I shift a bit, looking over my shoulder at the empty room. Hel's coldness lingers, and Gymbr's powers seem to have altered the atmosphere, made the lights a little brighter, the walls loom a little more heavily inwards. I fear that if I open this door, I'll let all this bad air flood out; I feel for a moment like... I should just stay here, in this lonely room. And I'm scared of what I've gotten Terra into. Terra... my bride. This should have been the perfect day, and now? Now... now I don't know what to think. I close my eyes, and shiver once before I look up and think that... everything had been going so well at first. Why is it that now, everything's gone so... so wrong? I try and... make sense of things, get some sense of what's going on, and I shift on my feet and realize that maybe right now, there is no making sense of things. There's just... pushing forwards if I can, and making it through this, and hoping that I'm able to do a better job of being a husband to Terra than I have being a King of Valhalla. I finally push the door open, stepping through it, feeling the cold air whisper past me, and I force my features to be calm. I have a very good poker face, and even if I know Terra will see through it, I know that at least it'll keep most of the others from recognizing it or asking questions. I start across the grand hall as Terra looks up, and immediately her eyes register that something is wrong... but then again, I have the feeling she knew something was off the moment Hel abducted me, and Gymbr coming over to add his own two cents in private would have tipped off anyone with even the barest understanding of what was going on. Freya seems a little concerned too, but also... appraising, maybe even ready to lay guilt. She's sharp. I always underestimate her, and yet I think it's impossible not to, all things considered. No matter what you think is safe from her, she always finds a way to figure out your secrets. Some days I think she must read minds: other days I find her even more frustrating to be around than Brynhild. And then, in a moment of both blessing and curse, Pipsqueak scrambles across the grand hall and up to my side, breathing heavily as he gasps out: “L-Lord... Kvasir! Needed... you're needed at the... meeting room!” I halt in mid-step and slowly turn towards Pipsqueak. The few dragons of the Isernertos clan that remain turn almost accusing eyes on me, even as I say in a low, clear voice to Pipsqueak: “I told you there was to be no business today. You and Excelsior were supposed to delay or handle anything-” “I know, sir, I... I'm terribly, terribly sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that we don't have a choice, it's... it's an emergency with the Pious, they're reporting that something... attacked them, sir. They're demanding action, or...” Pipsqueak looks back and forth, then he swallows thickly as the others approach, and I suppose I can't blame him for being intimidated. Brynhild, Freya, their varied family, Terra and several of her Clan...well, they make me nervous too, even now. I sigh and reach up to rub at my forehead slowly as Pipsqueak awkwardly attempts to slip away, but before he can, Freya asks him quickly: “When did the attack happen?” “I uh... ma'am, that is to say, Miss Freya, Lady Freya ma'am, I just... well, I'm not sure quite what I'm allowed to say here...” Pipsqueak fumbles, visibly sweating as more eyes turn towards him. The Clan dragons are already leaning in aggressively, baring their teeth: it terrifies the poor earth pony, but surprises me. It's not aggression I'm feeling from them... or well, not towards us. It's a desire to serve and protect Valhalla. Then again, I know that they see Valhalla not as my castle, as Heaven, but think of it more akin to their own clan: one enormous family, in which even the lowliest servant is included as a member, where even the outcasts and the black sheep are protected against the enemy, because nothing is more important than family. I raise a hand, drawing attention to me as I say clearly: “I'm afraid that I have to deal with this business. Even though it concerns... outside allies, this could point towards either a problem within Valhalla, or directed towards Heaven. Terra, you have my apologies.” “Don't apologize, Kvas. You're King of Valhalla. I know you have your responsibilities, and it makes me proud to see you living up to them.” Terra says softly, and she smiles supportively before leaning forwards and kissing my forehead. “I'll finish up here with your wonderful friends. Just hurry back to our room afterwards.” “Foul idiot. But I suppose thou must be surrounded by fouler still idiots if they cannot handle such events themselves.” Brynhild comments, favoring Pipsqueak with a sour look, and the earth pony manages a weak grin as Scrivener Blooms sighs and Twilight nudges the sapphire Valkyrie firmly, but Brynhild only continues with her obnoxiousness: “Then again, Heaven is naught but a grand mess of politicians and flittering birdies, anyway.” I decide it's best to just ignore her as I turn and stride quickly towards the exit. Pipsqueak hurries after me, and I'm unsurprised when, just as I near the doors, a throat clears itself loudly to draw my attention, and I realize that Freya has silently followed as well, the Valkyrie asking me quietly before I can even fully turn towards her: “Do you need my help, friend? Because I'm always here if you need me. And I've worked very hard to no longer... judge, as I may have in the past.” I look at her: a key hangs from one of her ears, a symbol of her commitment and her love to her strange Draconequus partner. I shift uncomfortably, and for some reason it's not just her apparently all-seeing eyes that make me feel nervous. It's the sight of that key that makes it so much more tempting for me to tell her, that makes me feel more like... keeping my silence is something like a betrayal. “No. I'll... come and speak to you tomorrow about things, Freya, but I think I can handle this.” I say finally, forcing a small smile. It only seems to make the Valkyrie all the more worried about me, though, and I can see Sleipnir trundling towards us, so I turn and quickly excuse myself to leave with Pipsqueak and head out into the halls. Evening is becoming dark night, and Valhalla is settling down: well, some parts of the Castle are winding up, but the corridors I pass through with the Blessed earth pony are mostly empty. The only people I see on the way are Nibelung and ponies employed to light the torches every night, and they pay us as little heed as we pay them. Pipsqueak keeps shooting me nervous glances, but I don't see anything. On the one hand I don't want to reinforce this behavior and dependency on me, on the other... I'm glad he saved me from what would have undoubtedly been a very awkward conversation. Things remain calm and quiet until we reach the anterior halls, heading for one of the meeting rooms. Then I feel it, a tickle, a moment before something hits me. I'm on my back, grabbing at this thing overtop me, pinning me down with what feels like claws. I look up and see a head concealed in dark cloth and gripping shadows, and I curse as I struggle with the beast, this thing that feels more animal than it does man or pony or intelligent being. I can't make sense of anything in the struggle, not until I see the knife. The knife draws all my attention. The knife is metal, and curved, and exudes a terrible malevolence. The knife is raised high, and the only thing that's stopping it from striking is the fact I've somehow managed to grab this thing's wrist, crushing down on a gangly limb concealed beneath so-thick, all-encompassing cloth. It leans down, and I push back up, teeth grit, breathing hard. I can't see this thing's face. I can just see dark shadows, and smell something... bitter, tart, toxic as it leans down and rasps: “C'mon, handsome, just give in... it'll be so much easier if you just give in... don't make me make this hurt.” I try to twist the assassin's wrist as my other hand shoves at it. Pipsqueak has already bolted like a coward and there's no one around and I can't bring myself to yell, only to snarl as this thing bears down against me. The cloak its wearing has layers and layers to it, both physically and magically, and its shifting, flexing, yanking back and forth eventually frees it, letting it raise its knife high, then plunge it down. There's no last minute save as the knife buries through my shoulder. The agony is indescribable as I cry out, and the bastard twists for no reason except to cause me further pain. His free claw manages to seize my forearm and pin it back even as my other hand plunges into his hood, sinks into the darkness beneath it, and shoves and scrabbles at whatever is hidden in there. Teeth bite at me, pierce through the hardened material that makes up my hands: the instinct to survive takes over, and as my blood spills out of wounds, I focus on it. I make it not inspiration, but destruction: I make it boil and come alive with all the hate and desire to survive that I can dredge up. The assassin wrenches his head back with a howl of surprise, yanking his knife with him: I know enough about how to defend myself to exploit that moment, slamming both my feet into his stomach and knocking him off me. He's faster than me, though: he moves in a slither, circling around and leaping at me, and I don't know how to defend myself. I don't know what to do except to try and scramble for my feet, but he's on top of me again, shoving me down before he tries to shove the knife up against my throat, but I catch his hand and wrist, gripping tightly as I can before his free claw seizes my throat. He's squeezing, but he's not trying to cut off my oxygen. His hand is moving back and forth, probably trying to find the artery, intent on either ripping it out or choking it off. And I bare my teeth as I glare up defiantly: I can't transform myself in mid-grapple, but making a few minor changes to my anatomy? Nothing is easier. Then he suddenly twists the knife, and it rips through my suit, scratches my flesh as he tries to bury it deep, but I manage stop him. I gasp, and he snarls before grabbing me by the face, shoving against my muzzle, hissing at me... And then it looks up before suddenly leaping back and off me... but not fast enough, as to my shock, the creature is blasted away by a fireball of golden light. The thing squeals as its cloak catches aflame, and then it turns and bolts, but Freya leaps over me without slowing and continues on a sharp pursuit after the assassin. I gasp for breath, straightening and grasping at my chest as I close my eyes, shivering once. And of course, now there are people coming towards me, coming to see what's wrong. But none of them are coming out of the meeting room. I stumble up to my feet, ignoring everything and everyone around me as I shove through the crowd, wading my way to the door to push it open... and I mouth wordlessly at what I see. It's not my first time seeing death, nor my first time witnessing an assassination in Valhalla, any more than it's my first time being targeted myself... but it strikes me to the core that... this has happened. I know there will be repercussions. I know this means that something terrible has begun. Three Pious are dead, throats slit, stab wounds in their bodies from someone who clearly had an intimate knowledge of their structure considering... how much they've bled. The way they've sprawled out, showing they died before they even had a chance to fight. And several of my own councilors have been killed... in much sloppier ways, from the splatter and the maiming they look like they lived through. Someone steps up beside me, tries to muscle into the room. I shove whoever it is back without looking, then turn around in the doorway and glare back and forth before shouting: “Lock down Valhalla, now!” Knights bolt for their duty, probably all scared of being dismissed after not running to break up the scuffle in the halls. But what would it have sounded like from the other side of closed doors? A fight in an empty corridor: I'm the one who never shouted for help, I'm the one who didn't speak up, who didn't cry out even when that knife sank into me. I touch the wound, and grit my teeth. It hurts. But what hurts more is the question that rises to the top of my thoughts, uneasy, worried: do I want to die? What bothers me even more is that I don't honestly know the answer.