Loki and Ingrid 20

Meet the Family

“Loki?” I get up and look around me, at the pitch-black forest.

          “Ingrid? So glad to see you back on Asgrad!”

          “What?” I whirl around, face to face with Thor himself, looking quite pleased. “I guess you found a way back, didn’t you? Good to see you, Ingrid.”

          “Where’s Loki?” I ask, staring around, “You really need to go find him.”

          “Ingrid—”

          “It’s complicated,” I sigh, turning away.

          “Yeah. I know. You must’ve hit your head pretty bad, Ingrid.”

          “It’s a pretty long story. And no, I didn’t hit my head, he was right here! He just proposed to me!”

          “Ingrid,” sighs Thor, “You aren’t thinking clearly.”

          “You left us!” I shout, whirling back around to face him, “You left us on Svartelheim!”

          “I said you must come. You brought this upon yourself. Anyway, you’re here now.”

          “What are you doing on Asgard? I thought you declined the throne?”

          “I had to attend to a few things before I left.”

          “What if I told you Odin isn’t here, on Asgard.”

          “What are you talking about, Ingrid? YOU must have really hit your head.”

          “Tell me about it. So, after you left, we got transported—”

          “Ingrid you aren’t making sense, there is no ‘we’.”

          “I’m telling you! Loki is alive and king of Asgard! You should go deal with that.”

          “Ingrid, as much as I believed you in the past—your crazy stories, I’m not going to believe that some entity just brought you and Loki to another dimension to resurrect him so he could take over the throne. I mean, who would do that?”

          “Nova. And her elder sister, Aura.”

          “Who?”

          “The daughters of Thanos, Nova was the one who tortured us.”

          “Then she will know the wrath of the MIGHTY THOR!”

          “Nova is dead. Really, you need to stop interrupting. Let me tell you the story from the beginning. They resurrected him because they still want the location of the tesseract. And they think the mind stone—”

          Thor pales, “The Aether?”

          “Safe,” I sigh.

          “I left it with the collector. It should be safe there.”

          “You shouldn’t tell me. The fewer who know, the better. If they torture me for it—”

          “I’m sorry, Ingrid. Go on.”

          “Aura ordered her to bring Loki to Thanos, but Nova—she refused to obey Thanos. It cost her her life. Then Loki blew the whole cave and told me to get out. I did—I used the com you gave me, and Sif got me home—I am not sure how Loki returned, but he banished your father to Midgard and claimed the throne, saying he was not fit to rule.”

          “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” says Thor, “But he was right about father; he is ailing. I should leave.”    

          “No, why?”

          “I need some time.”

          “Asgard needs you! Are you just going to let him—” I remember, what Loki told me of Ragnarok, of Hela, and I hesitate, and decide not to speak of it to Thor.”

          “I am not in a position to challenge the throne, as I am not a capable ruler—”

          “And Loki is?”

          “I’m sorry. Did you say he proposed you?”

          “Yes,” I sigh, “He was just here! —”

          “I don’t want to intrude.”

          “You aren’t!”

          “I am saying that I must keep my distance.”

          “What?”

          “For too long, we have fought. I can’t see him.”

          “What are you talking about?”

          “Father. Mother. All of Asgard—Joutheim, the Bifrost!”

          “What?”

          “We both need some time, Ingrid. We need time apart. Don’t you understand?”

          “No! Asgard needs you!”  I say, adamantly digging my feet into the ground.

          “I am sorry, Ingrid. Asgard needs you. As does Loki. The universe is in need of my service.” And with that, he spins Mjolnir and makes a rapid exit.

          I am all alone. I look around the woods, straining my eyes to look for movement. Nothing.

---

“I’ve got the archives up,” says Sif, “The outermost system of the universe. Zephenare, the planet of ‘lost souls’—sounds creepy if you ask me.”

          “And you think that’s where Loki is?”

          “Yeah. The location is showing up in big red letters. If he’s gonna be king, I’m gonna put a tracker on him.”

          “What’s he doing on Zephenare?” I ask suddenly.”

          “No idea, but I gotta stay here and guard Asgard. A lot of people already know at this point that their rulers are a bunch of idiots with no ruling experience.”

          “Okay. At least we still have Heimdall,” I say, reassuringly.

          “About that,” starts Sif, “Well, there’s been a change in staff. Anyway, you’re on your own, kid. I have a kingdom.”

          “Excuse me, but I’m your future queen.”

          “Really? Can I go announce the news?!”

          “Please, don’t,” I sigh, “But I really need to be going. Can you tell me where to get a ship?”

          “I dunno. Check with the junk traders down by the lake. You know the ones.”

---

“A girl! Or food, I say!”

          “A slave!” says another dealer, tugging at my robes, “Maybe she has something on her.”

          “Yeah, maybe under all that, don’t you think?” One of the other dealers winks at them suspiciously as they continue to tug my robes.

          I try to collect myself, as I say, “I need a ship. Any old ship out of here. I’ll pay you—”

          “We don’t want the meager gold offerings!”

          “Nah, she doesn’t have any!”

          “What would she do with a ship?” They keep tugging at my robes, trying to pick through all my pockets as I begin to kick and scream, “LET ME GO! I SAID PUT ME DOWN!”

          They begin jeering, as I feel rotten vegetables getting thrown in my direction.

          “I know someone who might make you a bargain,” I say, with a wink, “And please, if you’ll let me go, I’ll tell you who I am.”

          The dealers reluctantly let go of my robes as I begin to speak, “I am Ingrid, future queen of Asgard—”

          “What a barrel of bobbly-eyed baggins! Queen? Who are you marrying, the janitor?”

          “Uh, no,” I clear my throat. “I am to be wed to the king—”

          “False, all false rumors! —”

          “How dare you! He got us the best deal in the galaxy!”

          “Stole my amulet.”

          “It was mine.”

          “STOP!” They all turn to stare at me as I begin to speak. “If you don’t get me a ship this instant, I shall have you reported to the deputy queen. And I am sure that Lady Sif won’t be pleased.” If there is one woman in the kingdom who all men respect and fear, it is Sif, they back away, whispering, “We’ll get you a ship, right away, Miss.”

---

An icy blast of air greets me as I climb out of my ship into the harsh scenery of Zephenare covered in snow, ice, and—well this reminds me of Jotunheim. I remember that day so long ago.

          “Who are you?” A cold voice issues from behind one of the battered ships that are docked here.

          “Hello?” I cautiously peer around the side of the ship to see a female Frost Giant smoking on some sort of exotic herb. I know Sif would have the nerve to ask if she knew that stuff could kill her, but I don’t say anything. I just wait.

          “I said, who are you? She takes a look at my robes, still stained with vegetables, “Asgardian.” She carelessly throws the pipe over her shoulder and spits on the ground. “Sorry that tastes funny.”

          “Yeah. I’m here for the club. Intergalactic dancing?” I look at the lights issuing from a nearby building.

          “Yeah me too. I don’t like going to war, and Zephenare combines the environment of Jotunheim with the excitement of Xandar. That said, I can fight you if you want.”

          “I mean no harm,” I begin, “But my friend—fiancé disappeared and I really need to get him back, and my girlfriend told me to look here.”

          “Girlfriend, or girlfriend?” she says eyeing me carelessly.

          “My friend. Who is a girl—a lady actually. She has a title—”

          “Doesn’t sound good now. Titles are complete garbage.”

          “So, what’s your name anyway?”       

          “Why does it matter. I’m probably never gonna see you again. But fine, for acquaintance’s sake. Lydvor, and please don’t kill me.”

          “I’m not going to kill you. But I am looking for someone.”

          “Oh, Loki,” she leans over lighting another pipe, “He’s probably inside. I mean I went to pick up my brother but he’s a disappointment. I can go back to smoking, alone.”

          “Your…brother?” I narrow me eyes.

          “Half-brother. Lydvor Laufeysdottir. You’re welcome,” she looks salty, “But I may hate him too, but Jotunheim needs their king back.”

          “What?”

          “Well, he is next in line, even if he did murder our father—someone had to get rid of him.” Just wait till Thor hears about this. My brain hurts.

          “Um, he’s kind of busy being king of Asgard.”

          “Oh. Did Odin die? I’m not sorry.”

          “Okay, well, I’m just going to leave,” I say, quietly walking towards the club.

          “Wait! I’m coming with you! See I gotta send him back to Jotunheim. “I’m not gonna just drop my life and go be queen of Jotunheim. And I don’t exactly want my evil cousin taking over.”         

          “Sorry. Loki is Asgardian now.”

          “Oh, I don’t think so!”

          “Yes, he is!”

          “No, he is—Jotun!!”

          “Nice to see you two arguing over my identity, but no you’re both wrong. I am the God of Mischief.”

          “Loki,” I sigh in relief turning around.

          “That has nothing to do with where you’re from!” shouts Lydvor, but Loki pays her no heed.

          She turns back towards me now, and says, “Look I got some pickups halfway across the galaxy. We’re smuggling more and more stuff for cash. This planet’s just a hold up.”

          “I’m coming with you,” starts Loki, “It’ll be fun!”

          “Should I—” I start, concerned for Asgard, but it doesn’t take long before we’re climbing aboard Lydvor’s ship.

          Another, larger ship approaches on the horizon, trailed by a few small ships, heading straight towards us.

          “Oops, border patrol!” says Lydvor, swerving, as she reaches for a large red button on her ship. She gives us both a look which can only mean business. “Time to blow shit up.”