A/N: At the time of writing this chapter, the "line break" button has mysteriously disappeared from the Story Editor toolbar. As I am still rather new to how works, I have no idea what to make of it. So for this chapter, scene breaks will be denoted by sets of dots instead of line breaks.

...

83. Not Quite Ragnarok

VALENTINE, ASGARD

MANY, MANY YEARS AGO

A dark sky, blotched with red and purple, hung low and ominous over the barren and rocky wasteland. Though the kingdom of Valentine had been that way for years, the black-armored warrior treading the rough ground knew that the destruction was not confined to that land alone. The entire world had been ravaged.

Greed had led to war. Odin, the hogboon spirit of King Valentine, the three wizards…their fight for control of the cauldron, their petty struggles for revenge had led them all to annihilate each other. As was prophesied. Monsters had risen and been battled. It was reported that Odin, as well as all the other members of the Pantheon, had been slain in the chaos. Ringford, Ragnanival, Titania, and the Pooka civilization had been wrecked. The forest of Elrit had burned to the ground. It seemed all there was, for mile upon mile, was wasteland, ruin, and an emptiness that weighed upon those few who stood upon the battleground near the Cauldron that had nearly caused the world's end.

That Cauldron. The black-armored warrior wondered why it hadn't simply destroyed the planet like it was setting out to do. He supposed it had something to do with the prophecies of Valentine. Somehow, Armageddon had been averted. Blind luck, Oswald thought, reflecting. Or was there more to it? His crystal sword Belderiver was missing. That had to be more than mere coincidence.

"Everywhere we look, the land is ruined," he muttered to himself. He crossed the bleak landscape to the other person who knelt upon its ground. "'Tis worse than the Netherworld."

His addressee looked up to meet his eye. "Are we the only ones who survived this…?" Gwendolyn asked.

It was a question Oswald didn't much like thinking about. And yet there did not seem to be anyone alive visible in his range of vision, and with no trees and considerably fewer buildings around, visibility across the land was high. At last, he answered, "That, I do not know. But 'tis a miracle that we survived at all." The thought gave him hope. "Perhaps…"

To this, Gwendolyn gave a sigh, almost a grunt of pain. Her gaze reverted downward. Oswald could tell that there was great sorrow in her heart.

"Let's find a place to rest," he suggested, kneeling before her.

She looked up into his eyes again. As he always was, he was struck by her beauty, how she contrasted as something so perfect against all that was broken and fallen. "In this shattered world…" she said mournfully, her voice breaking. She looked down again. "Will there ever be a place that can accept us after we've hurt the world so?"

"Gwendolyn…" Oswald wanted desperately to find the words that would calm her, that would unburden her soul. But he had none.

Until the strange happening caught his eye from over Gwendolyn's shoulder. "Wait…" Oswald stood, proceeding forward over the wasteland to look at the flash he'd seen of light and of movement. He strode to the edge of an overlooking cliff. "Something's…happening…"

Gwendolyn's curiosity was piqued, wondering what Oswald could possibly have found in the wreckage to capture his attention so.

"Gwendolyn!" he called out, and she stood, jogging part of the way to the cliff. Her pace slowed as she began to take in the sight herself. It was unbelievable. "Oswald…what is it?"

Below them, the rocky wasteland was erupting into greenness and life. Grass sprouted. Saplings appeared, branching out, determined to become trees. Rays of light broke through the dark cloud of the sky, illuminating the landscape below. Water began to flow through the dried-up riverbeds. "The land!" Gwendolyn gasped.

"It's as if a new world is being revealed," Oswald stated as greenery even began to sprout beneath his own feet. "Gwendolyn…we're witnessing a miracle."

As the land of Asgard rebuilt itself before Gwendolyn and Oswald's eyes, they came to a definite conclusion, one which Oswald could not help but voice out loud: "We cannot give up! We must have hope!"

There they stood, enraptured by the sight for quite a while. Then, at last, Gwendolyn asked, "Where do we begin?"

Oswald turned away from the cliff face. "Perhaps we are not the only ones who survived," he suggested.

"We must go to Ragnanival," Gwendolyn insisted. "If there are survivors there - !"

Oswald nodded. "Then let us go."

As the pair set out on their trek, they spotted the great Cauldron looming in the distance. The device that had once been used to forge the Psyphers, crystalline weapons of great power, including Oswald's sword and Gwendolyn's spear (it was then that Oswald realized Gwendolyn no longer held the weapon, and he was ever more certain that their weapons' disappearance had something to do with their survival), by drawing upon the life force, had become the focus of the conflict between the All-Father and his rivals. When the spirit of King Valentine, transformed by rage into a hogboon that could pass into the world of the living to spread destruction, reached the cauldron, he had spurred it into an overdrive that was to shatter the forces that held Asgard together. It was, at that moment, quiet.

"I want to see the cauldron," Gwendolyn decided. "I want to look upon that which almost destroyed us."

"Something stopped it," Oswald muttered. "But what?"

They moved into the detour, approaching the massive metal contraption, the size of a house and plated in brass. Once, it had been covered in pulsating lights and clicking mechanisms – to call it a cauldron at all was an oversimplification, but it was the only word they had for it – but as it was, it was nothing more than a dead lump of metal.

"Oswald…!" Gwendolyn gasped, breaking into a run when she saw what lay at the Cauldron's base.

"No…" Oswald looked to where Gwendolyn ran. "It cannot be…"

There were two Pookas. Each was half the height of a human, a creature overall resembling a bipedal rabbit, with long ears and large paws. The one who lay on the ground, unconscious, had a coat of slate gray, nearly blue, with a shock of gold fur on his belly and chin. A tuft of blonde hair – something leftover from the days when he was human – spread out over top of his head, between the long ears that jutted from his scalp. Silvery braces armored his arms, and his head and neck were wrapped in a green hood. The other Pooka, of a bronze color with white fur across her chin, knelt next to him, situating his head in her lap, gently stroking his hair. Her own hair was brown, just a shade deeper than her coat, and she was clothed in a dress and hood of bright crimson. Only moments ago, Oswald had seen her before, but she was human then. It seemed impossible that she could have changed form so suddenly. And yet he would have recognized her anywhere…as did Gwendolyn.

"Velvet!" Gwendolyn called out, and the bronze Pooka turned her attention away from the other in order to see who had called out her name.

"Gwendolyn?" Velvet gasped.

The slate-colored Pooka stirred. "What…happened?" He laboriously sat up, then turned to look at his companion. "Oh, Velvet…no…"

By then, Oswald had caught up to the group. "I don't understand," he stated plainly. "Why are you a Pooka? Why did the Cauldron stop? And where are our weapons?"

"It was the only way to reverse the Cauldron's power," Velvet explained. "I knew that if it could take all of the life force out of Asgard, it could return it as well. I found the ring Titrel on Gwendolyn's hand, and I knew I could use it to control the Cauldron and save what was left of our land! But it needed power. There were no more Phozons, nothing more the Cauldron could draw upon for fuel…except our Psyphers. Your sword, Oswald. Your spear, Gwendolyn. My chain. Cornelius' sword." She indicated the other Pooka. "The crystals that composed their blades were made of the Phozons that came from the life force when the Cauldron first forged them. I was able to turn those blades back into the Phozons that were needed to power the Cauldron and save Asgard. Then, when my work was done, I used Titrel to shut the Cauldron down for good. It will forge no more. As a Valentinian, however, I knew that using the Cauldron would impart its curse upon me, and I would become a Pooka like Cornelius. But it is a small price to pay."

"Would that you could have found another way," Cornelius lamented. "They will no longer see you as one of their own, Velvet. They will jeer at you for your form. I cannot bear to see you suffer – "

"We do not know if any have even survived to jeer at me, Cornelius!" Velvet burst out, angrily, mournfully. "The prophecies stated that only two people would survive. Look before you! See Gwendolyn and Oswald…two people! We are alive because we are not…" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Then it is as I feared," Oswald stated. "We were the only ones to survive."

"Or were we?" Gwendolyn wondered out loud. "Velvet, were these not the infamous prophecies of Valentine, which stated the events that would lead to the end of the world?"

"They were the same," Velvet confirmed.

"But we stopped the world from ending," Gwendolyn pointed out. "When I slayed the great dragon. When Velvet took control of the Cauldron!"

"When I fought the king who had usurped Niflheim," Oswald added, "and destroyed him so that it would fall back into the right hands."

"When I fought – " Cornelius was about to recount his part of the tale, but he then looked to Velvet and decided against it. He feared that with things as they were, telling her what he had done to stall the end of the world would only upset her. She would find out eventually who he had fought and prevailed over. She probably already knew. But it would do no good to remind her at the moment.

"Your prophecies may just have stated what would happen if the battles were lost," Gwendolyn went on. "But all were won! Could it be…that more of us survived? That there are others hiding in the ruins of the great cities, afraid to step into the light?"

"Master Krois did also wonder if he misinterpreted the prophecies," Velvet mused, thinking of her old mentor. "When he read that all but two people would be annihilated, he said himself that he must have been mistaken. I didn't want to get up my hopes, but…"

"Prophecies are known to be vague by nature," Cornelius added. "There may very well be more of us."

Velvet nodded.

"And no matter what," Oswald realized, "the Pantheon will regenerate. It will be some time, but Odin, Thor, Loki, Freya, Hel, and Tyr will all return. Perhaps even Balder."

"And Frigga!" Gwendolyn gasped. "My mother…she died years ago in battle. Frigga will be first to return! Though I do not know how long it will take."

"Until then, we need to figure out what is left of this world," Oswald insisted. "We must continue to Ragnanival." He looked to Cornelius and Velvet. "Unless you would have it that we change course to Titania or the Pooka Village."

"You wish us to come with you?" Velvet seemed taken aback.

"You saved our lives," Gwendolyn told her. "But more than that, are we not both daughters of Odin? You are my sister, and I would be honored if you would walk by my side."

"Gwendolyn…I…" Velvet was at a loss. "Thank you."

"On the subject of family," Oswald brought up, "during my battle with King Gallon, I learned something that should be of interest to you, Cornelius."

"Gallon!" Cornelius gasped. "My grandfather… What was he doing out of Niflheim?"

"He had usurped Hel," Oswald explained. "And Hel's daughter Odette was already dead by Gwendolyn's hand. He thought himself lord of Niflheim, and came to this world in the form of a skeletal hellhound to wreak destruction."

"A hellhound," Velvet repeated. "Then he was using the power of the Darkova."

"The Darkova was, after all, the signature magic of my family's bloodline," Cornelius explained.

"I had heard that the royalty of Titania had a dark and dangerous power," Gwendolyn recalled.

"I was able to slay Gallon," Oswald went on, "though by his account, only one of the royal Titanian bloodline should have been able to do just that. I am sure that the only one he truly would have feared, Cornelius, was you. But as he perished, something came to light. Were you aware that your father the king had a brother?"

"A brother!" Cornelius repeated. "My father spoke of his brother, who was banished from the throne for marrying a common woman, but I knew no more."

"I had always known my father was a man named Edgar, and that he had died when I was young," Oswald explained. "What I did not know was that he was once a crown prince of Titania. Gallon imparted this to me upon his deathbed."

"Then that would make you my cousin!" Cornelius cried happily.

"Indeed it would." Oswald nodded. "It seems we four were always linked by fate."

"Then we must travel together," Cornelius agreed.

"To Titania, the Pooka Village, or Ragnanival, it makes no difference," Velvet stated. "Wherever we go, we will be met with ruin and destruction. We do not know if we will find anyone alive at all, let alone anyone we loved."

The four were silent a moment as they reflected on the circumstances. The gods would return; this was true. But the vast majority of Asgardians were not gods. Friends and family alike would be reported slain forever, having moved on to the realms of Valhalla or the court of Gefjon – areas suspended between Asgard and the Underworld, and not to be tread upon by any but the gods and the dead themselves – Fólkvangr, caught between the Underworld and Vanaheim under similar circumstances, the hall of Ran and Aegir, caught between the Underworld and Midgard, or Niflheim, a realm embedded entirely within the Underworld, separated from Asgard by many barriers.

"Then we go to Ragnanival," Oswald decided, breaking the silence at last. He turned and began to walk in the direction of Odin's nation. In silent agreement, Gwendolyn, Velvet, and Cornelius followed him.

After a few paces, Gwendolyn stumbled, falling to a knee. Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius all gasped, gathering around her.

"Gwendolyn!" Oswald gasped.

"What is wrong?" Velvet asked, concerned.

Gwendolyn pressed a hand to her side. It came away with a bloody palm; the red liquid seeped through her Valkyrie uniform. "My wings…" Gwendolyn grunted. "The dragon…ripped them away from me…"

"Here!" Velvet tore her hood away from her own clothing, ripping it into strips to form a bandage. "A bandage should be white, so that no dyes enter the blood…but we have no white. This will have to do."

"Thank you…" Gwendolyn wrapped the red bandage around her waist tightly. She then stood, shakily. She flung out her arms to steady her balance; Oswald took hold of one of her hands, a foundation to keep her from falling. Steadied, Gwendolyn nodded. "We can keep going now."

"Are you sure?" Oswald asked.

"I am a Valkyrie," Gwendolyn reminded him. "I am no stranger to injury and pain. Let us continue."

...

NEBULAPOLIS, RAGNANIVAL, ASGARD

The Ragnanival capital's great palace had been shattered, its towers toppled and its foundation cracked from the cataclysm. This was apparent even from a distance. As Gwendolyn, Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius moved within city walls, they could see that the palace wasn't all that had suffered. The streets, the homes, the shops…most were broken, debris and shrapnel littering the main roads. There wasn't a sign of life other than vegetation, and even that was sparse in the metropolis.

"I see no one," Cornelius said despondently, his ears drooping with dismay.

"We must go to the palace," Gwendolyn insisted. "Perhaps we will find someone there. It is where I would go to seek shelter and ask direction."

By then, her three companions were beginning to think that they were in fact all that Asgard had left behind, and that Gwendolyn was possessed by false hope. Yet they dared not rob her of that. They pressed on through the winding streets, keeping the palace in sight. Its walls still sparkled with a bit of its original luster despite its dilapidation.

"We shall have to rebuild it," Gwendolyn mused.

They reached the palace, opened the doors, walked inside. And there, Oswald, Cornelius, Velvet, and even Gwendolyn were taken aback. A crowd of Asgardians had gathered inside, packed from wall to wall in the atrium, talking frantically to each other. Those nearest the door turned to see who had entered. Gwendolyn heard their whispers: "No…" "It can't be…"

Head held high, Gwendolyn looked the crowd over. "YOUR ATTENTION!" she called out. They responded by falling silent, looking to her.

"I am Gwendolyn Friggadaughter of Ragnanival," she announced. "With me are my lover Oswald Edgarson of Titania, my sister Velvet Arieldaughter of Valentine, and Velvet's lover, Prince Cornelius Edmundson of Titania. As the daughter of the king and queen of Ragnanival, I demand to know what has happened here! How many have survived?"

They all began to speak at once, overwhelming Gwendolyn. Then, a sharp bark of a voice: "QUIET!"

From the throng emerged a young woman with golden hair, clothed in a red tunic and skirt. "Princess." She bowed to one knee. "I…am surprised to see that a child of Odin has survived."

"Two children of Odin," Gwendolyn corrected, indicating Velvet.

The woman in red appeared momentarily confused, trying to work out how Odin could have fathered a Pooka, but she shrugged it off, standing. "You see before you all that remains of Nebulapolis," she said. "We all gathered here to work out the next course of action."

"This…is all?" Gwendolyn let the news sink in. It couldn't have been more than one hundred and fifty people. What did that mean, she wondered, for the rest of Ragnanival?

"We need a leader," the woman in red continued. "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that your appearance is fortuitous in that regard."

"I…but I am no queen," Gwendolyn replied. "I was banished, and I – "

"Are all we have left," the woman in red insisted. "Take the throne and lead us, and we shall follow. We know we must rebuild. But we cannot do that without help. Help us, Gwendolyn Friggadaughter." It was not a plea, but a command. She thrust her fist into the air. "GWENDOLYN!"

That incited the rest of the crowd. Their fists were raised, pumping the air, as the name was repeated: "GWENDOLYN! GWENDOLYN! GWENDOLYN!"

Gwendolyn looked back to Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius. They all nodded. Gwendolyn looked back to the crowd, and when she did, they quieted down. "I shall take the throne," she announced, "until such time as Frigga or Odin is able to reclaim it."

A cheer went up. When it died, she continued: "Oswald will rule at my side, for where I go, so goes he."

"I do," Oswald confirmed. "We shall protect the people of Ragnanival from any remaining outside dangers as we reconstruct it from the ashes."

"Were you not the Shadow Knight?" the woman in red asked.

"I was, but no more," Oswald told her. "The cursed sword that gave me my power has been destroyed. In fact, it was one of the things that saved those of you who stand before us from certain death. But that is a story for another day."

"We shall have to obtain new weapons," Cornelius whispered to Velvet. "Without our Psyphers, we are vulnerable."

"There will be no more Psyphers now that the Cauldron is destroyed," Velvet reminded him. "Although I suppose one could gather more crystals from Niflheim to forge them, but that doesn't seem like a wise course of action."

"Of course not," Cornelius agreed. "We merely need weapons of iron and steel. We will fight without the magical power of the crystals. We are all skilled with ordinary blades, and we have enough knowledge of alchemy to complement it."

"I had never thought to see the day when we would bow before the Shadow Knight." The red-clad woman scowled momentarily. "But I also trust Princess Gwendolyn's judgment. If she trusts you with her life, then so will I."

"My days of acting as Ringford's mercenary are no more," Oswald reassured her. "As are my days of acting as anyone's hired sword."

"I thank you for your report," Gwendolyn told the young woman. "As I thank you for your support of my leadership. I shall do my best to protect you and your kin. In return, I am curious as to who you are. Speak thy name!"

"It is Sif, my lady," the young woman answered.

...

First, Gwendolyn's wounds were tended to. The gashes were stitched and a proper bandage was applied. Gwendolyn was informed that she would never again have wings, but this she had already accepted.

Then she, Oswald, Cornelius, and Velvet set about acquainting themselves with the remainder of the populace of Ragnanival. They were surprised to find among the survivors two daughters of Freya: Amora and Lorelei. They were equally surprised to find that for survivors of a near apocalypse, many of the people were quite optimistic; three who had in particular remained in strangely good cheer and made sure to express their faith in Gwendolyn and Oswald's leadership were a duo of warriors calling themselves Fandral and Volstagg.

After familiarizing themselves with the situation, Gwendolyn, Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius held a council in private in the throne room. Cornelius had implored Gwendolyn to sit on the throne, as was her right as ordained by the survivors, and so she did, though it felt very unfitting, as though it were too good for her to sit upon.

"We have seen what became of Ragnanival," Gwendolyn recapitulated. "Or its capital at least. But that still leaves the other nations. I am concerned in particular with Titania and the Pooka Village, since those are your homelands."

"It would be good to see for ourselves what has become of the rest of Asgard," Oswald agreed. "Not to mention that you – " He looked to Cornelius and Velvet. " – would probably wish to be in Titania instead of here."

"We are glad to assist you," Cornelius stated. "But I must admit, I do long for home."

"And I wish to know what has become of my people in the Pooka Village," Velvet insisted. "Cornelius, I think it best that you and I set out to see those lands for ourselves."

"No," Gwendolyn insisted. "The four of us came to Ragnanival together. We will go to the other lands together."

"Besides," Oswald pointed out, "as of the revelation Gallon provided me, it seems as though Titania is at least in part my home as well."

"But you must remain on the Ragnanival throne," Velvet insisted.

"It will be a diplomatic journey," Gwendolyn decided. "And it will not take long. Afterward, Oswald and I will return here. You two may choose where you want to go. No matter what you decide, Oswald and I will remain in contact with you."

"Though you will need to prepare for the dangers that may remain on the road," Velvet added. "Even though it looks like most malevolent creatures were brought down in the cataclysm, it would still be unwise to go out unarmed."

Gwendolyn rose. "Then we shall find weapons to suit us for this journey. Come with me to the armory."

She led Oswald, Cornelius, and Velvet down the halls. "I rather miss having the Titanian royal sword," Cornelius mused, thinking of the blade forged of bright blue crystal that had gone with the others into the Cauldron to power its last act.

"It is better that all the Psyphers are gone from this world," Velvet told him. "In a way…we only arrived at such destruction because of them."

"And I can assure you there is nothing about the Belderiver that I miss," Oswald grunted.

"I think I know what Cornelius means," Gwendolyn clarified. "The Psyphers came at a high cost, and their sacrifice was necessary. But each of them belonged to one of us and only one of us. They were part of us. The weapons we take now will only be stand-ins. Eventually, we shall have to have weapons forged that are meant for us alone. Weapons that mean something to us…but don't come with a curse."

She opened the door to a storeroom full of spare weapons used by the Valkyries and other members of Odin's guard. Knowing exactly where she was going, Gwendolyn crossed to the far wall, taking down a spear. Cornelius and Oswald plucked broadswords from a rack on a perpendicular wall, and Velvet, rather dissatisfied, found a meteor hammer wrapped around a post, removed it from its resting place, and gave it a few swings, already longing for the magical abilities of her old chain Graveryl.

"Are we ready?" Gwendolyn asked.

"As we'll ever be, I suppose," Oswald sighed, giving the broadsword a swing.

...

"We shall only be gone for a few days," Gwendolyn announced to the Nebulapolis survivors. "We must see what has happened in Titania and the Pooka Village. Then Oswald and I shall return to guide Ragnanival. No matter what happens, you cannot give up hope!"

They whispered nervously to each other, unwilling to watch their queen and king regent leave in such a desperate hour. But Sif, at the front of the crowd, stated boldly, "We shall not, Lady Gwendolyn, and we trust in your return."

That was all that Gwendolyn, Oswald, Cornelius, and Velvet needed to hear before setting out.

...

TITANIA, ASGARD

The road from Ragnanival to Titania was mostly clear, though, as with the Asgardian populace, a fraction of the venomous frogs and bees that had once inhabited the forest had in fact survived. The decision to travel with weapons had not been made in vain.

The four moved directly to the Titanian capital to survey the damage. Titania's architecture was vastly different from that of the city of Nebulapolis. In its prime, the city had featured quaint streets of cobblestone, wrapped around blocks packed with wooden buildings, each at an average of three stories high. In the center was a large castle of brown stone that towered over all, though it was absolutely dwarfed by the palace at Nebulapolis. In its current state, many of these houses had been toppled, and the streets were cracked. Most of the towers had fallen from the great castle.

As with Nebulapolis, the streets of the Titanian capital seemed deserted at first, giving cause for worry among the four travelers, particularly Cornelius. However, the further the travelers progressed into the heart of the city, the more they saw stirrings of activity: a window closing here, a shadowy figure disappearing down a back street there.

In one of the city squares, several survivors had gathered. Excited by the sight, Cornelius ran toward them. "You're alive!" he cried happily. "You're all alive!"

They turned to see who had addressed them. "…A Pooka?" a brunette man in a red hood said, quizzical.

"Do you not recognize me?" Cornelius replied, growing ever more excited. "It is I! Prince Cornelius! The son of King Edmund!"

The red-hooded man shook his head. "Nay. Cornelius is dead. You cannot be him."

"Do not smear the memory of our prince by claiming to be him, Pooka!" another man, this one a blonde in a blue tunic, spat.

"But I AM Cornelius!" Cornelius insisted plaintively. "Do you not recognize me? I am just under the Pooka's curse!"

"Go away, beast!" the brunette man demanded.

Gwendolyn stepped forward. "You do not know to whom you speak! I am Gwendolyn Friggadaughter of Ragnanival, a Valkyrie of Odin's court, and I swear, the Pooka you see before you is Cornelius Edmundson!"

The crowd began to mutter; they all recognized one of Odin's daughters, and there was no reason she should lie about the matter. "Come to think of it," the blonde man observed, "he does have Cornelius' golden hair…"

"And his eyes," the brunette supplied. "Looking at him…I do believe that is Prince Cornelius!"

"You needn't fear!" Cornelius announced. "Now that I have returned, I will do my best to lead Titania into – "

"LEAD Titania!" The brunette man gave a laugh. "A Pooka prince, lead us?"

"Edmundson or no," the blonde added, "we shan't have a BEAST sit the throne of Titania!"

"Speak not to him that way!" Velvet snapped.

That only made the others laugh harder. "Go back to your little village," the brunette man told Cornelius and Velvet. "To think…a Pooka on the throne! We'd rather rot kingless!"

"Is that REALLY the way you feel?" Oswald hissed.

Everyone in the crowd murmured assent. It was clear they were not going to take Cornelius' ascension to the throne seriously.

"I DEMAND that you restore him to his throne!" Gwendolyn barked. This was met with laughter.

"I thank you, Gwendolyn," Cornelius sighed, "but it looks like it just isn't going to work. It's altogether better that I just leave the matter alone. I only wish there was someone to lead them."

"Perhaps there is," Oswald replied. He turned back to the crowd. "Would an Edgarson, one of the bloodline cast from the throne, be more fit than the rightful heir?"

"Edgar?" the blonde repeated. "Edmund's brother? I suppose he would have the proper bloodline. Provided that he wasn't a Pooka!"

"You only harm yourselves when you scorn Cornelius," Oswald insisted. "He would have ruled you with a just and fair hand. But I am an Edgarson of Titania. This knowledge was imparted to me by King Gallon when he broke free of Niflheim."

"You?" the brunette replied. "It cannot be!" However, he said this with more shock than contempt.

"It is true," Gwendolyn said with a nod. "Oswald Edgarson and I are already king and queen regent of Ragnanival. But we can also take the throne of our neighbor nation and help you to rebuild, if you will have us."

"It would put Ragnanival and Titania in a direct alliance…" the brunette mused.

"What's left of them," the blonde pointed out. "We have nothing to lose." He bowed to one knee. "King Oswald."

The rest of the crowd followed suit, all lowering themselves to bended knee.

"I am sorry," Oswald whispered to Cornelius.

"Don't be," Cornelius responded. "I should have expected this. I only ask that you take care of my people."

"That I shall do," Oswald swore. "With all the life force in my being."

...

Once Titania was surveyed and the decision was made to put it under the blanket of Gwendolyn and Oswald's regent rule, it was time to move on.

...

POOKA VILLAGE, VALENTINE, ASGARD

The Pooka Village had been constructed underground, a hiding place for those underneath the Pooka's Curse that had struck all Valentinians during the days of the Crystallization Cauldron's war. As such, Velvet had theorized that it would not have suffered as much destruction as the other lands. It was not exposed to the elements. Gallon, the Darkova, the dragons, Onyx, the Cauldron…none would have been able to directly touch the Village.

But when Velvet, Cornelius, Gwendolyn, and Oswald entered the underground group of small dwellings, styled somewhat like Titanian architecture, they realized that it had not been spared suffering. Tremors had rocked the earth and chasms had opened up in the subterranean ground. No longer did each building spill forth a beam of welcoming light against the shadows of the cavern. Lights were sparse, and everything was thrown into silhouette.

This time, however, because the Village was so small as compared to the Titanian capital or Nebulapolis, signs of life were easy to see. Here and there, Pooka toiled in the streets, trying to sweep up debris or exchanging food amongst each other. When a group of travelers entered, especially one where two members were human, the entire Village would be quick to notice.

"It's Cornelius!" someone yelled from the upper story of one of the still standing buildings.

"CORNELIUS!" A small crowd of Pooka ran out to greet him, and in doing so, realized they recognized the two humans. "Gwendolyn! Oswald!"

"Friends!" Cornelius cried, almost overjoyed to be received so well after his home kingdom had shunned him.

"Wait," a Pooka with a bronze-colored coat said loudly enough to get the others' attention. He looked to the member of the group they had not yet identified. He realized the familiarity of her features. "Princess…VELVET?"

A gasp went up through the crowd. They had long known Velvet as a leader and protector since the days before Valentine's ruin, but she had until then been spared the Pooka curse that affected the rest of them.

"It is I," Velvet confirmed.

"Oh, no…" the bronze Pooka moaned. "You have been cursed, too!"

"Of my own will," Velvet explained, "to prevent a larger disaster from befalling this land. I'm afraid it is a long story."

"Still," a gray Pooka chimed in, "it is good to see you and Cornelius are both well!"

"Never mind us," Velvet said. "What happened here? I would have thought this Village would be spared…"

The gray Pooka shook her head. "Many perished. Who you see before you is nearly all that remains of the Village."

"Another land decimated…" Velvet sighed.

Just then, another Pooka exited one of the buildings. Her coat was a reddish-brown, with white fur over her chin and toes. She wore a white apron and a dark green hood studded with bronze ornamentation; from beneath this hood, light brown hair curled its way out. Gwendolyn gave a gasp, rushing toward her. "MYRIS!"

Myris looked up immediately once she heard her name called, and a shock came over her. "G-Gwendolyn?" she gasped. "You're alive!"

Gwendolyn dropped to her knees, and she and Myris embraced. "I cannot believe it," Gwendolyn said softly. "It is a miracle!" She then let go of her comrade. Myris had been a servant in Odin's court, assigned personally to watch over Gwendolyn, and when Gwendolyn had been banished, Myris had gone with her to Oswald's dwelling on the outskirts of Nebulapolis.

"I went with a small party to escape," Myris explained. "We thought if we could make it to the high ground of Winterhorn Ridge, we would be safe. But I was the only one who reached the peak…the only one…"

She burst into tears.

"Oh, Myris…" Gwendolyn said softly.

"As I watched," Myris wept, "I prayed that one person, just one, that I cared about would survive…and then when it all ended, I came here to see who had survived. Oh, Gwendolyn, I'm so glad you lived…it means my prayers were answered…and not JUST you, but Oswald and Cornelius and Velvet…"

"I think we are all glad to see that Velvet has returned," the gray Pooka pointed out. He turned to address Velvet. "I hate to sound so desperate, but you are the only leadership we have left."

Velvet nodded. "It saddens me to see how many were lost. But now that I see that many did in fact survive…now more than ever, I shall not abandon my people."

"Nor I," Cornelius added. "If you will have me."

"Why would we not have you, Cornelius?" Myris asked.

"Because I was rejected by Titania," Cornelius recounted. "Spurned, by my own people!"

"The true curse of being a Pooka." The gray Pooka nodded. "Cornelius, we would gladly have you as our king, should you choose to be."

"Then I shall," Cornelius promised. "I shall do my best to lead you all, and to protect you from further harm."

"Once our travels with Gwendolyn and Oswald have come to an end," Velvet promised, "we shall return here to you."

"Thank you," the bronze Pooka said gratefully. "Now, what are we sitting around here for? Come now, let's get you something to eat."

...

Sitting around a table at the Pooka Café – a building that was still mostly standing, thankfully – Gwendolyn, Oswald, Cornelius, and Velvet enjoyed a meal on the house.

"Velvet," Gwendolyn asked between bites, "what did you mean about finishing your travels with us? Oswald and I must go back to Ragnanival, and you and Cornelius seem to have found a home here."

Velvet nodded. "All true. But I had wondered if it would not be beneficial to make one more journey."

Gwendolyn was confused. "Where to?"

"To Ringford," Velvet said, matter-of-fact."

"But what is there for us in Ringford?" Gwendolyn asked.

"It was, at a point, Oswald's home," Velvet answered.

All eyes turned to Oswald, who was silent. Realizing he would have to respond, Oswald stated, "I have long since turned my back on that place."

"Then we shouldn't – " Gwendolyn began.

"That is fair," Velvet interrupted. "It is your choice. But whether you accept it or not, a lot of your history is in Ringford. The people there would know you better than the people of any other nation. It is possible that they need you more than the people of Titania do." She sighed. "But only you can make that choice."

Oswald nodded, then did not speak. The group ate in silence for several minutes. Cornelius mentally grasped for a conversation topic, and was just about to speak in order to break the ice when Oswald said at last, "We should go."

...

RINGFORD, ASGARD

When Cornelius, Velvet, Gwendolyn, and Oswald entered what had once been the flourishing forests of Ringford, they were struck with the bleakest image yet. Once, the entire nation had been surrounded in foliage, tall trees sprouting long leaves of deep green. At the moment, those were all gone. Ringford's countryside was mostly a flat plain with saplings sprouting up. Some of the dead wood of the old trees was visible in large chunks peppering the ground. The air there had once hung thick with the glowing spheres of light and life force that were called Phozons, but there was not a single Phozon to be seen. The grass was purely green, no longer the mystical dark color that had been offset by luminous flowers of all colors. In the not too distant past, the palace of Ringford, a tall, cylindrical structure modeled after a tree trunk, would have been hard to see, only visible when one exited the thick of the forest and came upon the clearing of the royal grounds. But at the moment, it stuck out from the scenery, rising tall above everything.

Gwendolyn, Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius set a course for this palace. Along the way, they saw the stirrings of animal life, but heard nothing of the faeries that had inhabited Ringford.

The palace, with its great arched halls and windows, also seemed completely bare. "I don't understand," Gwendolyn said in dismay. "Everywhere else we went, we found surviv – "

She stopped. There had been a noise. They'd all heard it; the hallways of the palace amplified it. Someone had fitted an arrow to a bow.

Oswald looked in the direction of the noise; it had come from around a corner. "I know you're there," he said, drawing his sword. "And I must inform you that it would be quite unwise to attack us."

Someone stepped out from around the corner: a faerie warrior, her hair a brilliant pink, dressed in minimal purple clothing that bared her stomach, shoulders, and legs. Wings like those of a butterfly, colored a deep pink, protruded from her back. She kept her bow trained on the four travelers until she realized she recognized one of them. "Shadow Knight…?" She lowered the bow.

"Shadow Knight no more," Oswald informed her, "but that is what I once was. Melvin's knight."

"Magnus!" the faerie called out. "Laila!"

Two more faeries emerged from the corners of the hallway. Magnus, a lithe figure, was dressed in leaf-green armor, the helmet of which only just showed his light brown hair and beard, and Laila was a blonde woman dressed in clothing of green, of the same cut as the pink-haired faerie's ensemble. Laila's wings were deep green; Magnus' were hidden beneath his armor.

"It cannot be," Magnus muttered.

"You are surprised that I have survived what was almost Armageddon?" Oswald asked.

Laila shook her head. "We thought the Belderiver's curse would claim your soul long before, and that you would be a Revenant wandering the earth with no place to rest."

"All of those days are gone," Oswald reiterated. "Now, if it pleases you, stop discussing my past and tell me what happened here!"

"Onyx came to destroy us," Laila explained, naming an old enemy, one of those who had gone mad with power near the end of all. "He very nearly succeeded. The three of us are all that remain."

"Only three - !" Velvet cried. She, Cornelius, and Gwendolyn all reeled.

Oswald did not appear as shaken outwardly. "Not even the young Queen Mercedes?" he asked.

"Mercedes gave her life to slay Onyx," the pink-haired faerie explained. "It was said that only the great tree of Yggdrassil could stop him, and so he made a point of destroying every tree he could find, misunderstanding the nature of Yggdrassil. However, in the end, it was revealed that Yggdrassil was Mercedes' true name. She, not the tree itself, was what was meant to stop him."

"A pity…" Oswald cast his gaze downward. "She was so young."

"And so brave," Magnus insisted, "for one of her age."

"What will you do now?" Oswald asked.

"Wait," the pink-haired faerie answered, "and survive. Eventually, new faeries shall be reborn of the life force. And the gods of the Vanir shall return. Until that day, we can fend for ourselves." She scowled. "Why return here, Shadow Knight? To pity us? Or to harm us further?"

"To see what had become of my past," Oswald answered. "I have got what I wanted."

"Then linger no further," the pink-haired faerie insisted.

Oswald turned to stalk away. "I shall not."

Gwendolyn, Velvet, and Cornelius followed him, left to mourn what was left of Ringford: only three.

...

NEBULAPOLIS, RAGNANIVAL, ASGARD

It was settled. Velvet and Cornelius made home in the Pooka Village, and Ringford resigned to anarchy. In the meantime, Titania and Ragnanival joined forces as a temporary empire of sorts under the joint rule of Gwendolyn and Oswald. Every now and again, a rebel from one nation or the other would voice discontent, but such thoughts were soon silenced. In the time of rebuilding, all knew that the two nations were better off working together.

And so time passed.

...

There came a dawn when Gwendolyn felt a stir in the life force. It woke her from her sleep before the sun or the call of any bird could. She twitched her limbs a little to wake herself fully. Her eyes blinked open.

Next to her in the bed, Oswald was also moving. "You feel it too?" Gwendolyn asked, her voice still slightly raspy from drowsiness.

"Yes…" Oswald answered.

They dressed quickly, rushing down the stairs of the tower where they'd claimed quarters, exiting the palace and hurrying toward one of the squares. A sizeable crowd had gathered. Apparently, they'd all felt it.

Phozons had materialized in the air. As bright as stars, they contrasted the slight darkness of dawn, moving leisurely toward one particular area in the square. The crowd watched without making a sound or a move; this was something, they all knew subconsciously, that could not be interrupted.

The particles of light gathered together, building a shape. They took on the form of a humanoid – tall, feminine in shape, nude at first but then clothed in raiment made of more Phozons. When they had finished congealing, the figure glowed brightly, flashing with so much light that most had to shield their eyes, fearing being blinded. Then the light subsided. The figure was no longer Phozons; she was real.

She was clothed in a snow-white robe edged in gold, offsetting her light-toned skin, deep golden hair capping off the spectrum. Her eyes were dark, piercing. All who watched knew her at once. There could be no other who had eyes like that. Her very presence resonated with the souls of those who looked at her, and there could be no doubt.

Frigga was reborn.

Gwendolyn could hold herself back no longer. "MOTHER!" she cried, running to Frigga.

"Gwendolyn!" Frigga immediately reached out and embraced her daughter.

"Oh, Mother…" Gwendolyn nearly sobbed. "I have missed you all these years…"

"Worry not, my daughter," Frigga told her softly, giving Gwendolyn's hair a single stroke. "For I am here."

The two broke their embrace, and Frigga could see that Oswald had taken a step forward out of the crowd, following Gwendolyn part of the distance to the mother goddess. "And who is this?" Frigga asked, smiling. She could already tell there was a reason he had followed her daughter.

"Mother," Gwendolyn introduced, rushing back to Oswald's side, "this is Oswald. My love."

"You have found love…" Frigga beamed. Then she got a good look around. While reconstruction had started on most of the buildings, including the palace, the city was still not as complete as it was in its days of glory. Frigga also realized that many more people should have gathered to see her arrival. "What has happened…"

"A long story," Gwendolyn told her.

"Regardless of length," Frigga said, "I believe I must hear it."

...

Frigga was brought up to speed, and the decision amongst the people was unanimous: Frigga would take the throne as queen in place of Gwendolyn. Even the Titanians revered her as leader; the idea of the mother goddess ruling both kingdoms suddenly appealed to them far more than a disgraced Edgarson ruling an independent Titania. This demoted Gwendolyn and Oswald to the rank of warriors in the Ragnanival court, something they embraced.

"Were you wed?" Frigga asked them both one day as the three stood on the shores of one of the decorative ponds of the city.

"No." Gwendolyn shook her head. "There was no opportunity. I apologize if it is improper – "

"There is no need to apologize," Frigga told her. "I had merely thought that given your bond, it was time you were wed…for your own happiness."

"Oh, we would want nothing more!" Gwendolyn cried before realizing she had spoken for both herself and Oswald. As Gwendolyn turned to Oswald to gauge his reaction, he nodded, giving her a smile.

"Then it is settled," Frigga decided. "I shall marry you."

"We would be honored, Lady Frigga," Oswald replied.

"To you, I am 'Mother,'" Frigga insisted.

"Mother," Oswald repeated, slightly stunned.

"But mother," Gwendolyn said, "if we are to wed…then I have a request. Nay, a command!"

"You would command your own mother?" Frigga sounded more surprised than angry.

"If Oswald and I are to wed as we have wished," Gwendolyn stated, "then it is only right that Velvet and Cornelius should also wed. I shall only stand at the altar with Oswald if Velvet and Cornelius stand there as well!"

"And how do you feel about this, Oswald?" Frigga asked.

"It is only fair," Oswald insisted. "I, too, shall not join with Gwendolyn in marriage until her sister and my cousin stand with us."

"Then it shall be done," Frigga vowed.

...

POOKA VILLAGE, VALENTINE, ASGARD

The Pooka were nothing short of stunned to see Frigga walking down Main Street.

She strode with determination toward the largest of the houses, one that might more properly be described as a manor, but only by the barest sense of the definition. It was here, she knew, that Cornelius and Velvet made dwelling.

She knocked upon the door, and Velvet answered. "Lady Frigga - !" Velvet gasped, taken aback.

"I am here to speak with you and Cornelius," Frigga stated.

"Please…do come in!" Velvet invited, swinging the door wide.

Soon, Frigga was seated upon a comfortable couch in what would best be described as the living room of the manor; Cornelius and Velvet sat across from her. Cornelius felt embarrassed that the first goddess of the Pantheon to return was forced to sit on a seat where the back of the couch only reached half as high as the couches found in Ragnanival or Titania – with a population of only Pookas, why build them any bigger? Yet Frigga did not seem to be uncomfortable in the slightest.

"I am here to discuss a matter with you that I think you will find pleasant," Frigga began. "Not too long ago, I offered to wed Gwendolyn and Oswald to each other at long last. And they accepted my proposition."

"Oh…how wonderful!" Velvet cried.

Frigga smiled. "And yet they refused to hold the ceremony until certain agreements were met. It is my understanding that the two of you are also in love, and yet have not wed, for largely the same reasons that Gwendolyn and Oswald had not: for lack of opportunity."

Cornelius and Velvet exchanged nods. "That is true," Cornelius conceded.

"It was Gwendolyn's wish that you be married alongside herself and Oswald," Frigga continued. "And that I perform the ceremony."

"And…what do you think of this request?" Velvet asked, her heartbeat starting to speed up.

"I merely need to know," Frigga answered, "when you are ready."

"Lady Frigga!" Cornelius cried. "You are…far too generous…"

"This does come as a surprise," Velvet admitted. "After all…I am not…" She nearly choked on the words, almost afraid that saying them out loud would cause Frigga to change her mind. "I am not your blood daughter."

"You are not of my blood," Frigga agreed. "But thou art sister to Gwendolyn, and that makes thee daughter to me."

Frigga's thoughts turned, a moment, to Loki. He would be returning eventually, and with him the secret that Odin and Frigga had kept ever since the days of Legend. They had never told him that he was born of the Jötunns, that he shared no relation by blood to any of the Pantheon at all. They had let him believe he was a full-blooded god. She had at first welcomed him as a son as part of the ruse, but since then, she could see him as nothing else. If only, she lamented, she could tell this secret to Velvet. Then Velvet would understand that to be a child of Frigga did not mean to have been born from Frigga's womb. The woman sitting before her was a product of Odin's temporary unfaithfulness – with the princess of an enemy kingdom, nonetheless – and, on top of that, a Pooka. But when Frigga looked at that woman, what she saw was a daughter.

"You will, in fact, call me Mother," Frigga insisted.

"Why, Lady Fr – " Velvet caught herself. "Mother. We would be honored if you would wed us. Let us confer with Gwendolyn and Oswald, and we can decide on a date."

"Thank you," Cornelius said gratefully.

"I only wish to see thee happy," Frigga replied.

...

NEBULAPOLIS, RAGNANIVAL, ASGARD

The great hall of the palace was transformed; it had even more luster than ever before. Garlands of flowers were draped around every pillar. Feast tables had been moved into the hall, stretching from end to end and laden with fine plates, bowls, and cutlery. At these tables were seated most of the population of Nebulapolis, the Titanian capital, and even the Pooka Village. The only Asgardians, it seemed, who couldn't be bothered to show their faces were the faeries of Ringford.

A great glittering altar had been constructed at the hall's head, with a podium for Frigga to oversee the ceremony and two platforms of gold, one on either side of Frigga. Upon one stood Gwendolyn and Oswald; upon the other stood Velvet and Cornelius. Gwendolyn and Velvet wore elaborate gowns of golden fabric that shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the windows; Cornelius and Oswald were fitted in formal clothing of silver. And upon each of the four faces was an expression of pure joy, each pair of eyes only locked on the eyes of the lover.

"Gwendolyn," Frigga asked, "do you take Oswald to be bonded to thy soul?"

"As much as the ocean is deep," Gwendolyn said, "and as far as the sky reaches, such is my love for Oswald. I take him for as long as I shall live, and longer still."

"Oswald," Frigga asked, "do you accept Gwendolyn into thy heart?"

"My love for Gwendolyn has transcended death once already," Oswald replied, "and shall do so a thousand times more. No war nor famine nor drought can tear us apart."

"Velvet," Frigga asked, "do you take Cornelius to stand at thy side eternal?"

"By the green grass that grows thick off the life force," Velvet vowed, "by the water that runs to give life and quench thirst, by the sun that lights our path, I do swear to be faithful to Cornelius evermore."

"Cornelius," Frigga asked, "do you take Velvet for thy one and only love?"

"I shall never want another!" Cornelius replied enthusiastically. "None are so beautiful to me as she…and none will ever be!"

"If all are willing," Frigga concluded, "I pronounce thee, Gwendolyn and Oswald, and thee, Velvet and Cornelius, to be wed under the power of the gods of Asgard."

Upon this news, Gwendolyn and Oswald immediately clung to each other, uniting in a deep kiss. At the same time, Velvet gently took ahold of Cornelius' face, guiding it to her own, and they kissed as well.

A raucous cheer went up from the crowd, comprised not only of screaming but of the thudding of goblets against the tables and the clinking of silverware. If it could make noise, it was employed to do so.

Each couple was seated at the head of a table, and the food was brought out from the kitchens: roasted animals of all varieties, cooked vegetables from every edible plant, platters of juicy fruit, caskets of wine and beer. It was distributed among the tables, and everyone tucked in.

It was a proper Asgardian wedding celebration: both the guests and the newlyweds engaged in eating, dancing, drinking, and singing, and the feast continued for three days before at last, things settled down and everyone returned home.

...

THE FORGE, NIDAVELLIR

A convolution of machinery clicked, clacked, and groaned within a cave whose walls were tinted red from the light from within. Metal buckets poured red-hot ores, almost seeming as magma, from one location to another. The dwarves of Nidavellir, all heavily armored and heavily bearded, tended to every part of the forge, working to put together its various creations.

Gwendolyn, Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius had gone to Nidavellir with a request. As Heimdall, the god who guarded the Bifrost, had still not regenerated, the four had found the need to embark on a long quest to find one of the pathways between the Nine Realms, between the branches of Yggdrassiil. In their absence, Frigga oversaw the rest of Asgard.

The four had made it to their destination, and found themselves standing before Etrie, crown prince of the dwarven tribe, son of Hreidmar. Half the height of the average Asgardian (but slightly taller than the Pookas), he wore armor of gray, with golden epaulets, and his orange beard was tied into three segments.

"It is good to see that Nidavellir was untouched in the cataclysm," Cornelius observed, looking around the great cavern.

Etrie nodded sadly. "And I am saddened to hear the news of Asgard. Here in Nidavellir, we had felt a trembling in the life force, as though Yggrassil were rocked. We could not have known that Asgard was being ravaged. You have my condolences."

"We will rebuild and rise," Velvet reassured him.

"But for the time being," Gwendolyn stated, "there is something else we need…personally."

"Name it," Etrie said.

"In order to save Asgard," Velvet explained, "we had to sacrifice our Psyphers. No more Psyphers can be forged…or at least, we do not want them to be. However, that still leaves us without weapons we can truly call our own."

"We came here because you are masters at the forge," Oswald continued, "and have been renowned for helping supply the Asgardian and Vanaheim militaries. All we ask is for one weapon for each of us."

"We want them to be as close to our old Psyphers as possible while still being made of metal," Cornelius specified.

"I believe we can manage that," Etrie stated. "What I will need is for you each to describe to me your old Psypher in detail."

...

Ores were melted and poured. Blades were molded. Metal was pounded. Finally, Etrie had four weapons to present.

"For Gwendolyn," he said, presenting a spear wrapped in cloth. "To replace your spear."

Gwendolyn unwrapped the spear and gasped. Its handle was of black metal, and its point sharp; the point was infused with a metal that gave it a blue tint, resemblant of the crystal that had topped her old spear.

"For Oswald," Etrie said next, presenting a wrapped sword. "To replace the Belderiver. Rest assured, it comes with no such terrible curse."

The sword's hilt was black, and its blade, carved in the shape of the Belderiver's – wide at the base, narrowing in the middle, and widening again before coming to a point – was black infused with red.

"For Velvet," said Etrie. "To replace Graveryl."

Velvet unwrapped a strangely shaped package to find a meteor hammer, the jet-black chain wound tightly. At either end of the chain was a diamond-shaped bludgeon with a sharp point at the end. Each bludgeon was tinted crimson. "It responds to magic," Etrie added, "though not to that of Phozons. It was one of the most difficult to create, but you should find it little different from wielding Graveryl."

He then turned to Cornelius. "And for Cornelius…to replace the Titanian royal sword." He handed over one last package.

Cornelius unwrapped it to find a broadsword whose blade was tinted bright blue.

"I know they are not your old weapons," Etrie began, "but – "

"We cannot thank you enough," Velvet insisted.

New weapons in hand, the four parted from the dwarves and began the journey home.

...

NEBULAPOLIS, RAGNANIVAL, ASGARD

The stirring in the air was once again present. Everyone in Ragnanival knew what it meant. They rushed out to the city square, wondering who would return this time.

Frigga, Gwendolyn, and Oswald were at the head of the crowd, and it was they who had the clearest view as the Phozons gathered, forming into a rather bulky shape. Frigga recognized the outline of the resurrected god before anyone else did, and a single tear coursed down her cheek.

In a flash of light, he was visible, his armor gleaming, his white hair shining, only one eye surveying the crowd; the other eye was covered by a patch.

"Lord Odin," Oswald whispered.

Frigga tentatively stepped toward Odin, and he in turn took a step toward her.

"Frigga," he said. "My love."

"Odin - !" Frigga rushed to him.

As Odin and Frigga embraced, the observers in the square applauded and cheered.

He let go of her, realizing who else was in the crowd. "Gwendolyn - !" Odin nearly gasped.

"Father." Gwendolyn bowed.

"I thought you had perished," Odin said, rather stunned. "In the last battle…" Then he noticed Oswald. "You."

"I," Oswald retorted.

"Father," Gwendolyn stated, "Oswald and I are married now. As you intended."

"Though not necessarily because you intended it," Oswald made sure to emphasize.

"I suppose I should not be surprised," Odin stated.

"We were wed alongside Velvet and Cornelius," Gwendolyn went on.

"Velvet…" Odin repeated. "You wed ALONGSIDE her?"

"In the palace," Frigga said sternly, knowing what was coming.

"She had no RIGHT to be there," Odin growled.

"She had every right," Frigga insisted. "These are different times, Odin."

"What is next," Odin seethed, "that the bastard Ingway was wed in the same room?"

"Ingway is dead!" Gwendolyn cried.

That silenced Odin momentarily. When next he spoke, his tone was calm. "What is done…is done. I suppose…it would do no good to dwell on it." He still didn't relish the thought of Velvet being given the royal treatment, but he didn't want anger to be the first thing on his mind since his regeneration. Nor whatever emotion came with thinking for too long about her twin brother Ingway's death.

"The throne of Ragnanival awaits," Frigga reminded Odin.

"Yes…" Odin nodded. "Yes. That it does. From the looks of it, there is still much to be done."

"And much to tell you, Father," Gwendolyn insisted.

Oswald wasn't sure how much more "news" Odin could take, but he knew that Odin would have to find out all that had happened since his death during the cataclysm.

The royal family, as it were, began the ascent to the palace. "Gwendolyn…" Odin began.

"What is it, Father?" Gwendolyn asked.

"In death," he replied, "I found myself briefly confined to Valhalla. There…I saw your sister Griselda."

Gwendolyn gasped.

Oswald knew what was going through Gwendolyn's mind. She and Griselda had grown up nearly inseparable. Upon Griselda's death in a skirmish over the Cauldron, Gwendolyn was nearly driven mad, seeking battle so that she could follow Griselda to Valhalla…never mind the family she would have been leaving behind by doing so. It was in fact Griselda who had bestowed the Psypher spear upon Gwendolyn.

"She knew when I was fading," Odin went on, "and returning here. And she had one request."

"What was it, Father?" Gwendolyn asked eagerly.

"'Give Gwendolyn my love,'" he answered.

Gwendolyn suddenly could not stop the tears from flowing down her face. "Thank you, Griselda…" she said softly.

Oswald put a gentle hand on Gwendolyn's shoulder, flashing her a smile. He could hardly have asked for a better gift to be brought to his wife.

...

As most of the gods of Asgard, Aesir and Vanir alike, had perished around the same time during the cataclysm, they began to reappear in a shorter span of time. After Odin came Thor, though he was much younger in age than he had been upon his death – an infant, in fact. No one could explain this. The regeneration of gods was fickle in that regard. Gwendolyn was overjoyed at the return of her younger brother, and she took to raising him. He would age, she knew, quickly in the first few years, and as he reached maturity, it would slow down.

Then came Heimdall, and the Bifrost was once again operational, ready to open to the other realms. There would be no more trekking down dark paths at the edges of the world in order to cross.

Tyr returned, a great asset to the military. Freya reappeared, and she was welcomed with open arms by both her surviving daughters. The other Vanir were soon to follow her, and they dispersed between Ringford and the realm of Vanaheim, where the Vanir were born. Even Balder returned, to much speculation; it was supposed that since the world did technically undergo most of the prophesied events of Armageddon, that was enough for Hel to decide to let him go. No one really felt like questioning Hel. She and her realm had remained untouched during the near-apocalypse, after all.

The people excitedly rushed to see resurrection after resurrection. There was, however, a concern. After so much time passed, no one had been able to locate Loki.

...

War broke out.

It was only to be expected, Gwendolyn thought. War was natural among the realms. She readily fought alongside Odin in the arduous conflict against the Jötunns. And yet it all brought to mind far too readily the memories of the wars amongst the Asgardian rulers for the Crystallization Cauldron, and what that had become.

Many warriors fell on both sides. The war was too long, too bloody, and at last, Odin came to sign a peace treaty with King Laufey of the Jötunns. Neither Asgardian nor Jötunn would set foot in each other's realm ever again. If either did, it would be seen as a declaration of malicious intent, an invitation for the other side to step over the borders and the war to re-ignite. It seemed that the conflict was over, and this time, there would be no consequence as heavy as the wars over the Cauldron.

And as soon as the war ended, the infant Loki finally turned up. Though many would later find it odd that no one in Asgard could recall having felt the stirring in the life force that accompanied the regeneration of a god, and no one in Asgard could recall having actually seen him reborn…but Odin and Frigga worked to reassure the people that it had in fact happened in the conventional way.

Frigga knew that keeping the secret of Loki's heritage from him was a dangerous game to play, but it was one she was skilled at. The bigger, newer challenge would be informing Loki that his lover of old, Sigyn, had perished during the cataclysm spurred by the Cauldron, and that as one not of the Pantheon, she would not, in fact, be returning.

...

"Do you wish to hear a story?" Odin asked.

He stood before a great fireplace, where flames blazed, providing the only light in the small chamber. On the woolen carpet featuring designs patterned after famed historical battles in the Nine Realms, the young Thor and Loki, having left toddlerhood, had been innocently playing. Helping Odin watch over them was another survivor found in Ragnanival, a Dark Elf that Odin had called into service in his court. Algrim dressed in golden robes, his skin black as night and his hair white as snow. He knelt on the rug next to the two boys; he often acted as caretaker to them.

"Yes, please!" Thor begged. "Tell us about the wars of Svartalfheim!"

Odin could see Algrim flinch. Svartalfheim was a touchy subject for the elf; it had been his home realm, but after certain conflicts, he had taken refuge in Asgard while Svartalfheim fell to ruin and death. "Perhaps another…" Odin began.

"Pleeeeaaaase?" Loki begged.

"Well…" Odin thought it over.

Algrim noticed movement at the door, and he stood to greet the visitor. "Gwendolyn."

Gwendolyn nodded. "Hello, Algrim."

"Would you mind terribly taking over my position for the moment?" Algrim asked. He could tell that Odin was just dying to brag about conquests over Dark Elves. Besides, there were other young gods in the palace to attend to. "Vidarr and Vali need my attention."

Algrim stepped out; Gwendolyn stepped in. "You're just in time for a story," Odin informed her; she sat down on the rug, putting an arm around Thor and Loki each. "A story that begins eons ago, with my father Bor. Bor was king during the time of the first conflict with Svartalfheim. Strong was he, with hair as black and thick as the wool of a ram, and with the strength of a ram; such was why he took the mantle of the ram in his helm, and all who beheld his visage knew they were at risk of being crushed by the horns that were merciless upon his enemies."

As Odin went on, his language changed. After all, he had sacrificed his eye to drink the song-mead from Mimir's Well at the base of Yggdrassil; while this had given him primarily the knowledge required to watch over the Nine Realms, it had the pleasant side effect of transforming his storytelling ability.

"Bor's fiercest enemy was the leader of the Dark Elves: Malekith the Accursed. Flanked by hounds whose jaws dripped with blood and by warriors whose spears did the same, Malekith thirsted for power. His thirst could only be slaked by such artifacts as the dread Casket of Ancient Winters, which contained within it the winters of ten thousand years and more, and the Aether, crimson destruction. It was over the Aether that Malekith's blade, his metal fang, met that of Bor. The battlefield of Svartalfheim was cloaked in the bodies of Asgardian and Dark Elf alike, their lifeblood seeping into the ground and Phozons erupting from their bodies to dissipate into the air. Ram-headed Bor struck at Malekith with his own iron fang, biting deep into the elf's skin and tasting the juice of his blood until Malekith could see Hel approaching from the corners of his vision. Malekith fled upon wings of cowardice, leaving his army to fall into Asgard's iron maw, ground into meal by our teeth."

Odin went on to tell of how Bor had won the war against Svartalfheim at the cost of the lives of hundreds of Dark Elves. Malekith continued to lead them for another generation; he ruled with an iron fist, but nonetheless, the Dark Elves always seemed incredibly loyal to him. Svartalfheim remained a peripheral threat to Asgard all the way through the days of Odin, when in another conflict – not against Asgard, but Svartalfheim against Jötunheim – the Dark Elves called upon Surtr to help them win the war. They had at first appealed to Asgard for help, but Odin had refused to help Malekith. When Surtr appeared, Odin knew he had to step in, otherwise Surtr would use the opportunity to dominate the Nine Realms.

When Odin reached the point of his story regarding his battle against Surtr, Thor, Loki, and Gwendolyn joined in reciting it with him, as they had heard it so many times, it was ingrained upon their hearts: "I held the only weapon that could rival Surtr's sword: my spear, Gungnir! I bided my time. A wise warrior, I knew my only hope was to tire the fire giant first. So exhausted was Surtr that to lift his sword, he needed both hands: thus exposing his chest!"

Odin concluded the tale. He was victorious against Surtr, banishing him to the depths of Muspelheim, but as that went on, the Jötunns almost completely obliterated Svartalfheim.

"It was a day that many did make merry, for at last the beast Malekith was lain to rest on a coffin built of blood and bone," Odin concluded. "But of Dark Elves that survived this reaping of souls, only one ever was found: friend Algrim."

The story always took a good two hours to tell in entirety, and Gwendolyn caught Thor and Loki yawning. "I think it might be time for young princes to sleep," she observed.

"But I am not tired, Sister," Thor said lazily, a great yawn punctuating the statement.

"I want another story…" Loki attempted, clearly nodding off.

"Another day," Gwendolyn promised.

She and Odin led the two to bed, tucking them in and leaving them to rest peacefully for the night. Odin and Gwendolyn then parted with rather formal goodnights, and Gwendolyn made her way down the hall.

She then encountered Oswald. "I could not help but hear the story Lord Odin was telling," he admitted. Though he had long gotten used to referring to Frigga as "Mother," it was a different story altogether with Odin. "It seems that whenever kings clash, monsters rise."

Gwendolyn nodded somberly. "It does indeed."

...

Reparations continued. With the Bifrost open, there was much traffic between Asgard and Vanaheim. After all, many of the Pantheon called Vanaheim home.

As a side effect, many civilians immigrated from one realm to the other. One example was the mace-wielding man who came from Vanaheim, stalking forward without a sound. The citizens of Nebulapolis, when they saw him coming down the street, all decided to give him space when they noticed the dour look on his face and the way he carried his weapon.

In one of the squares, Fandral and Volstagg were making what was their usual scene. "Yes, we fought an army of ghosts during the near-Armageddon!" Fandral was trying to convince the people. "There must have been one hundred!"

"One hundred for EACH of us," Volstagg corrected. "Two hundred ghosts. But we made short work of them!"

Some of the Asgardians listening to the tale sighed in admiration. Others raised skeptical brows. The Vanlandi was the only one to actually approach them.

"So there we stood," Fandral went on, "back to back in the wasteland. The ghost army was growing, and we – I'm sorry, did you have a question?"

"Two hundred ghosts." The Vanlandi snorted. "As though the two of you could."

"We could," Fandral insisted, "AND WE DID. And I suppose you could do better?"

"I have bested thirty ogres in battle," the Vanlandi insisted. "And I could slay a hundred and fifty ghosts if I were faced with them."

"Thirty ogres? HA!" Volstagg laughed. "I could take forty!"

"I could take fifty!" Fandral added. "And still have it in me to slay a pack of wolves!"

"I could kill three score of the hounds of Svartalfheim," the Vanlandi grunted in response.

"Well…I…could TAKE A FANG FROM FENRIS HIMSELF!" Fandral yelled.

All the onlookers gasped.

"But Fandral," Volstagg pointed out, "everyone knows Fenris is the most dangerous of all – "

"I could best him in an instant!" Fandral insisted. "And bring home his fang to wear around my neck."

This caused the Vanlandi to genuinely smile. "I would like to see you try."

"Like to see me fail, more like." Fandral crossed his arms and huffed.

"I did not say that. In fact, were you to embark on such a quest, I would join you. I too would like to prove myself against Fenris."

Fandral thought it over. "Such things are best discussed over a pint or two," he decided. "Won't you join us for a drink…what did you say thy name was?"

"Hogun," the Vanlandi grunted.

...

As Thor and Loki grew, finally catching up in age to the other Asgardians, they began to make friends. Loki immediately gravitated to Amora, the daughter of Freya, who found enjoyment in teaching him the magical arts. Thor, on the other hand, eventually found his way to Sif.

Watching the brothers grow into their own made Gwendolyn and Oswald happy, but it soon put a growing thought into their minds. And so they approached Odin before his throne, bowing deeply out of respect.

"What has brought thee before me?" Odin asked.

"Father," Gwendolyn stated, "we have enjoyed helping your children grow into maturity over these past years. However, they are now becoming old enough to fend for themselves."

"Not to mention that you have Algrim to watch over them as well," Oswald pointed out.

"Oswald and I would like to return to our home at the edge of Nebulapolis," Gwendolyn announced.

"We still wish to fight in the name of Asgard," Oswald insisted. "But our work within the palace is done."

"But Gwendolyn," Odin argued, "as my child, you do have a claim to the throne."

"I want no part of it," Gwendolyn told him. "I am indeed a warrior. A Valkyrie, in fact. And I will never stop being your child. But I have no desire to be queen anymore. I want to return to the home Oswald and I made."

"Besides," Oswald said accusingly, "how many of your male heirs would have to perish in order for Gwendolyn to even look at the crown, despite the fact that she is elder?"

"If this is your wish," Odin relented, "then you may go. But do not forget where your blood binds you."

"I shall not forget you," Gwendolyn vowed, "and you shall see me often, with Brunhilde and the other Valkyries."

"As I," Oswald vowed. "My blade is now devoted to thee. Though I doubt Brunhilde would let me into her ranks."

"I am glad to hear such things." Odin nodded. "You are dismissed."

Gwendolyn and Oswald got up to leave the throne room. Then, after saying their goodbyes to the rest of their family within the palace, they left the city itself, returning to a dilapidated manor at the edge of the city. It once was larger, a castle even, before the Cauldron cataclysm, but at the moment, it was built so that what remained of it was stable.

"It is not as we left it," Oswald pointed out.

"But it still feels like home," Gwendolyn admitted.

Oswald. "To me as well."

...

"I take it Sigyn won't be returning?"

Odin was caught off guard to hear Loki state it outright. He had merely been walking down a palace hall when the sound of Loki's voice, accusatory, had come from behind. Odin turned to face the teenage Loki, who wore a scowl.

"I've known for a while," Loki admitted. "As soon as I was old enough to realize I once was wed."

"You know very well what happens to those who perish but are not gods," Odin reminded him. "Sigyn appeared alongside Griselda and myself in Valhalla. As Griselda had last words to deliver to Gwendolyn, Sigyn had words for you." He closed his eye, recalling her face. "Do not pine for me," he repeated. "Move on, Loki. There are others out there who await you."

"Move on?" Loki repeated. "How does one simply move on from her? She laughed at my jests, she stood with me when no one else would, and in the days of Legend, she…she wiped the venom from my face…when I was bound to – "

"Those days hopefully shall not repeat themselves," Odin stated.
"Hopefully," Loki repeated with disdain. Odin had nothing to say to this, so Loki went on. "Just tell me one thing. What killed her? Was it Jörmungandr?"

Had Loki posed the question to Frigga, she might have named a different one of the monsters to have ravaged the land – Onyx, Gallon, the Cauldron itself. But Odin saw no reason not to tell Loki the truth. "She was indeed struck down trying to hold Jörmungandr back as the hogboon rode him across the land."

"So my wife was killed by my child."

"It is true, Loki." Odin's tone held no sympathy, no softness.

"Well." Loki's own voice was barely a whisper. "Then I suppose we have no more to discuss."

He turned and stalked down the hallway in the opposite direction.

...

"You should have lied," Frigga later told Odin.

"About Sigyn's words?" Odin questioned.

"NO!" Frigga snapped. "That was the most IMPORTANT truth to tell him! But you did not have to tell him that Jörmungandr killed her!"

"Jörmungandr killed most. The hogboon was in control of him at the time. Loki had no control of the situation. I do not see what difference it makes to him."

"You and I have lied to him for thousands of years about his own parentage," Frigga practically snarled. "Why was it so difficult to lie about his wife's death?"

"He will recover," Odin stated. "In no time at all we shall see him playing yet another of his cruel jests that only he finds amusing."

...

"LOOOOOKIIIIIIIII!"

It was quite a sight. Sif, storming down the entrance hall of the Nebulapolis palace, decked out in her usual red and her face almost as crimson as her clothing, teeth gritted, murder in her eyes. Above this fuming face was a smooth, bald head with absolutely no hair upon it. Her golden tresses had disappeared.

Loki appeared in front of her so quickly, she could have sworn he had used magic to teleport there. Upon his face was a broad grin; he was trying his hardest not to break into laughter. "You called for me, Sif?" he asked.

"I KNOW YOU DID IT," Sif seethed.

"Did what?" Loki feigned naïveté. "Oh! Art thou perhaps looking for this?" From his pocket, he produced a bundle of golden hair. Then he could contain his laughter no longer. "Eeheeheeheeheeeee!"

"YOU TOOK MY HAIR FROM ME!" Sif screamed. "I DEMAND THAT YOU REPLACE IT!"

"Oh, but you look SO much more beautiful this way!" Loki laughed. "Doubtless Thor will be unable to keep himself from swooning!"

"What will make me swoon, Loki?" Thor asked, having heard raised voices and decided to investigate the disturbance. He noticed Sif. "Sif…what happened to your – "

"HIM!" Sif screamed, pointing at Loki, who broke out into another round of laughter.

"Loki!" Thor scolded. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because…just…just LOOK at her!" Loki laughed.

Sif was indeed growing redder by the minute. Thor was afraid she'd soon find reason to take the nearest object she could grab and use it to bludgeon his brother to death.

"I think you'd best return it," Thor whispered to Loki. "You do have a spell for that, do you not?"

Sif had heard. "I do not trust him to return it! He would sooner give me a glamour that would fade within three days!"

"Then we shall go to someone else," Thor reassured Sif.

...

"Hmmm." Amora surveyed Sif's head. "Yes…I can do something."

"Please," Thor asked her.

Sif ground her teeth.

Amora looked from Sif to Thor. She really was a pretty girl, Amora thought. Too pretty. Anger began to build up inside of her at the thought that perhaps, just perhaps, this would be the girl that would steal Thor's heart…before Amora ever could. She had a strong temptation to cast the spell completely incorrectly and leave Sif disfigured and ugly, or put something other than hair on top of her head, such as grass or oozing mud. But that would earn her dirty looks and scorn, especially from Thor. That was the last thing she wanted.

Perhaps, she thought, what she could do would be to change Sif's original appearance. If Thor ever had feelings for her, perhaps he could be swayed if she no longer looked the way she did when they met. And Amora could do so without looking like an outright saboteur.

She cast the spell, a green aura surrounding Sif's head. Hair sprouted from the follicles, cascading down onto Sif's shoulders. Then Amora was done. "You should take a look," she said, handing Sif a silver hand mirror. "I tried my best, but I just…could not get the spell to match."

Sif took a good look at herself. She did once again have hair…but it was black as night. "I…suppose I shall get used to it," she sighed.

"You look as beautiful as you did before, my friend," Thor reassured her.

Amora inwardly cursed herself.

...

Odin was unsure, at first, that Sif was a warrior even worth a second glance, but Thor vouched for her character and abilities. And before long, Thor, Sif, and Loki joined forces with Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun – the "Warriors Three" – to seek adventure. Their ventures and voyages could have filled the pages of many books.

During one such quest, however, tragedy struck. Still bitter over the destruction of Svartalfheim, blaming Odin for the tragedy on account of negligence, Algrim turned traitor. Using the sword of Surtr, he nearly annihilated Odin completely.

But, as Odin would later recount in another of his epic retellings, "As it seemed all would be lost in fire, Loki prowled in from the shadows and struck the traitorous Algrim, stopping the Dark Elf's dark heart from beating."

After that, Gwendolyn and Oswald made sure to keep up more communication with Thor and Loki. The loss of a mentor, they reasoned, should require more attention from another. This soon led to correspondence between the Ragnanival royal family and Cornelius and Velvet, and soon, when Thor felt the need to initiate an adventure, he had quite the group of potential willing followers: Loki, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Gwendolyn, Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius.

...

And as the years passed, though the population of the realm was still a fraction of what it had been and some areas still demanded repair, there came a time when most could look over Asgard and say that it had finally returned to its former glory.

...

Chapter 83:

· First of all, I don't normally do this, but I want to extend a thank-you to YouTubers GamingNoodle and KZ. Their LPs of Odin Sphere were the main resource I used to get familiar with the story. I actually first got into OS because I played through Gwendolyn's story and most of Cornelius' with one of my friends, and we fangirled over it a lot. But I didn't get any further myself, despite LOVING the game's story and world. This storylet's "research period" finally gave me a chance to catch up with all of it.

· This chapter is kind of a "catch-up" chapter so you know what happened to Asgard in order to prep for what's about to come when the Mane Six enter the fray. I spelled out a lot of things in the interim period. You'll notice, however, I'm being deliberately vague about a lot of things that happened in the "Cauldron cataclysm" at the end of OS. That's because someone is gonna have to explain it to the Mane Six later and you don't need to sit through that exposition twice.

· The first part is actually a novelization of the last few seconds of the OS "good ending" just to catch you up. "We must have hope!" is the last line in that scene; everything after that is mine.

· As for the "True Ending" where Cornelius and Velvet get their wish, that happens waaaaay later. After this upcoming storylet and shortly before the previous one. I'll elaborate more on that later.

· Also, you'll notice that I took a lot of the AU Norse stuff from OS and performed another AU on it to bring it back to traditional Norse. There is nowhere called "Erion." It's "Asgard," with four nations: Ragnanival, Titania, Valentine, and Ringford. (Ringford is probably supposed to be more Alfheim or Vanaheim, but it works better for me if it's on Asgard turf.) Volkenon is more of an "embassy" between Asgard and Muspelheim (which is Onyx's native realm) and the Netherworld (Niflheim) is a separate realm entirely.

· Again, a lot of stuff I DON'T explain is stuff I suspected would be explained to the Mane Six later.

· I refer to King Valentine as a "hogboon." This is a term I found in Nancy Farmer's "Trolls Trilogy" (specifically "Islands of the Blessed"). It's an undead spirit that lives on bloodshed. King Valentine was most certainly this. (Also, take note that I referenced something from those Nancy Farmer books, which also heavily feature Norse mythology.)

· And I took a HEAVY liberty with the prophecy here. The OS prophecy states that only two humans survive. First of all, I'm distancing Asgardians from "humans." Second, in game canon, there were ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE FOUR SURVIVORS: Gwendolyn, Oswald, Velvet, and Cornelius. My plot, however, hinged on there being more survivors than just four. So I exploited a lot of loopholes to get the Asgard population I needed.

· The character referred to as "Gwendolyn's mother" is dead in OS canon. I interpret that to be Frigga. So…Frigga just has the bad luck to always die first. Always.

· Norse afterlives are weird. I "suspended" the afterlives between realms because the Norse afterlives actually are situated on godly realms…but I need all the dead to have to pass by Hades first.

· I have since learned that Gwendolyn's wings are apparently part of her armor. Well, they don't behave like armor. So I'm just going to go ahead and pull a "Screw it; my rules now dictate that they were WINGS ON HER BODY."

· Sif's "hair" subplot was inspired by something I found when Wikipedia-ing Sif's backstory. Apparently Loki did cut off her golden hair, and it was replaced with a dwarven headpiece. I've adjusted it here.

· The two men in the Titanian capital that speak are based on NPC merchants from OS.

· I decided to have Myris survive because in the "bad ending" of OS, she's literally the last being alive. I figure if she can hold out that long in the BAD ending, she could survive my tweaked version of the good one.

· The three faeries are technically my OCs, I guess. I picked out the names, though all are based on canon NPC enemies found in Ringford. BTW, the pink-haired one is named "Eira." I don't know if that will EVER be relevant outside of these notes.

· In OS, there was supposed to be no World Tree until Mercedes died and it grew. Here, I'm saying that when she died, she became part of Yggdrassil, since she and the tree shared true names. (THIS WILL NOT BE THE LAST TIME I TAKE AN ODIN SPHERE CHARACTER'S TRUE NAME LITERALLY.)

· I forwent looking up any actual formal wedding vows and kinda just…wrote what I felt like.

· Norse wedding feasts were supposed to last AT LEAST three days.

· Nidavellir's design is lifted from AEMH. (I am making Nidavellir and Svartalfheim separate realms. To compensate, Hel and Niflheim are now the same place. Which AEMH did anyway.) Etrie is the dwarven king in AEMH. I had him be the son of Hreidmar, the mythical dwarven king, kinda just to signify that this is in fact the past – Etrie isn't king yet.

· Yes, I'm being vague about Ingway on purpose.

· Griselda did canonically go to Valhalla upon dying in OS. Odin also died basically onscreen, and he was shown reuniting with Griselda.

· I fudged the whole "aging of gods and Asgardians" thing to suit my purposes. A lot. There is NO REASON that it takes Thor sixteen years to grow from infancy to being 16 while Sif stays 16 for 16 years. Other than that it makes my job a lot easier. You'd think a complicated rule would do the opposite. But also, saying they don't age traditionally also solves another problem of mine. I've seen some people do the math of Asgardian lifespans and conclude that at the time of "The Avengers," MCU Loki is 17. This does not work for me. He NEEDS to be in his twenties. So Asgardian aging is NOT an exact science here.

· I pulled a lot of the parts revolving around Thor, Loki, and Algrim from the film "Thor: Tales of Asgard." Which is pretty much the best thing I've seen come out of Marvel's animation department. If you can find it, GO WATCH IT RIGHT NOW. IT'S THAT GOOD.

· The Svartalfheim story is a mashup of what happened in ToA and what happened in Dark World.

· The concept of song-mead is, of course, Norse in origin, but the SPECIFICS of it and the powers it gives, I took from the Trolls Trilogy (specifically "The Sea of Trolls"). And here, Mimir's Well is THE explanation for how Odin lost his eye. Though it wasn't necessarily lost forever. After all…Gargoyles is a thing.

· The part of that story that Thor, Loki, and Gwendolyn say together? I actually ripped it from ToA WORD FOR WORD and just changed it to first-person. In ToA, that part is made such a big deal out of Thor and Loki remembering from childhood, I wanted to make a call-back to them hearing it when they were younger.

· I hear that Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg actually did bond over a dare over whether or not they could pet Fenris. (They couldn't.)

· Sigyn is completely my AU doing. I know she's a thing in Marvel, but using her the way Marvel did would kinda contradict the adaptation-based stuff I already used. And I hear she's not that big of a deal anyway. So I just redid her backstory and death because I needed to allude to the mythological canon of Loki and Sigyn being married, but at the same time, I needed her gone so I could move Loki on to bigger and better ships. I also did contradict mythology by saying Sigyn wasn't a true goddess (she totally was), but since my "Lands of Legend" are based on the "Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica" books, where legends aren't 100% word for word like they're told anyway, I figure I can take some liberties.

· I made Leventhan from OS and Jörmungandr into the same entity. Leventhan is CLEARLY supposed to be Jörmungandr. So that's what I'm going to refer to him as instead of "Leventhan."

· Just reiterating: I'm using Algrim's story arc from ToA, where he was a friend to Odin, but turned traitor and was then killed by Loki. This is going to be IMPORTANT.