Ragnarök Rising

by Nora Ash

  “You should look in a mirror Jotunn,” Magni bit out, but there was no venom in his voice. He sagged against the blond alpha, but kept his free arm around my shoulders. He’d never say it out loud, but I knew he needed my closeness as much as he needed Saga’s support just then. I pressed in against him, willing him to hold on just a little longer.

  Saga caught my eye above Magni’s bent head, and in his eyes I saw the same fear churning in my own gut. He’d die too, if Magni went. As much as they may hate each other, the three of us were tied together now. Bound in life as well as death by the marks marring my neck.

  I pitied him—and, I was so grateful I had to bite back tears as we dragged Magni to the golden portal. I wasn’t alone with my fear—and I wasn’t the only one desperate to save my redheaded mate.

  I knew Grim and Bjarni were only going along with this because they needed Magni to pass through the gates of Valhalla and find out what they needed to know about me—the mortal they still believed would save their lineage.

  Not Saga. Once upon a time, yes, that was all he’d wanted, too. But not anymore. He was right here with me, and I clung to his presence.

  The moment we all passed the looming portal, blinding light filled my vision. Instantly, the dreary dampness that had clung to us in Jotunheim evaporated like mist on a warm summer’s day, and bright, gentle sunlight caressed my face.

  I looked up, surprised at the sudden shift, and blinked several times.

  Below me lay the greenest of valleys I’d ever seen, lush forest and swaying meadows intercepted by bands of silvery rivers. In the distance rose a mountain range up so high it seemed to touch the sky. And on its side sprawled a beautiful, golden city. From its edge, a rainbow disappeared in the distance.

  “Valhalla,” Grim murmured.

  “Home,” Magni groaned. “You need… to take me home. To Thrudheim.”

  “His father’s house,” Saga explained when I raised an eyebrow in question. “Where does Eir live? We need to take you to her. Now.” The urgency in his voice was not lost on me—and not on Magni either, apparently. My redheaded mate lifted his head and gave Saga a weak but still undeniably shit-eating grin. “Careful now or your brothers might think you care about me.”

  “Oh, I care,” Saga gritted. “I care that if you die and we’re discovered inside the walls of Asgard, we’re gonna end up in a fucking cave with snake venom in our eyes, or whatever the shit your precious family comes up with this time around.”

  “Deny all you want,” Magni said, but it ended on a groan, and he sagged heavily between us as his knees gave out and his consciousness along with them.

  “Fuck, we’re never getting him all the way to Valhalla on foot,” Bjarni muttered as he gently shoved me out of the way and looped Magni’s limp arm around his shoulders so Saga didn’t carry his full weight alone. “What’s plan B?”

  “There is no plan B,” Saga gritted. “We’re in enemy territory, and our guide just passed out.”

  “Enemy territory?” A melodic female voice asked from behind us. “Are you not godsons, young ones? What is Asgard, if not home?”

  I swirled around, but where the portal from Jotunheim should have been was a tall, blonde woman so beautiful I had to do a double take. She was perched in a silvery wagon, which seemed to be pulled by two huge gray cats the size of Shetland ponies. Behind her was nothing but flowering trees and rolling hills.

  “Freya,” Grim said, and if he felt even an ounce of the sheer shock and awe currently making me gape like a fish, he didn’t show it. His mismatched eyes didn’t waver from her blue. “If you know we are godsons, you also know whose blood runs in our veins—and why Asgard is no home of ours.”

  Freya pursed her lips in a small smile, but didn’t reply. Then her sapphire gaze turned to Magni. “He doesn’t have much time. Put him in my chariot.”

  Without argument, Bjarni and Saga carried the passed-out alpha to the cat-drawn carriage, seemingly not in the least freaked out by the size or existence of the felines.

  Freya motioned to me. “Come, child. You and your other mate need to ride with me. Your two other suitors will need to fly.” She threw what looked like two feathery costumes on the ground and pointed to a building in the distance. “Meet us at Folkvangr. Do not let anyone see you.”

  “Fly?” I mouthed, as Saga grabbed me by the arm and more or less dragged me into the carriage beside Magni’s slumped body. By the wagon’s side, Bjarni was inspecting one of the feathery costumes with pure disdain painted across his bearded face, but Grim was already pulling his on, one foot at a time. The second he had his second arm through the sleeve, the feathers ruffled as the fabric seemed to melt into him and suddenly a black raven sat on the ground in his place.

  “Home!” Freya’s clear voice rang, and the cats set off so instantly, I was jerked backward and into Saga from the sudden motion. He held me tight against his body, shielding me from the wind as the lush landscape tore past us.

  I looked up at the golden-haired woman—Freya, as Grim had called her. My grasp of Norse mythology, though scant, was strong enough to recognize that name.

  “Freya? You’re the goddess of Love, right? Ma’am.” I tagged the last bit on when I realized that there was probably some polite way one really ought to address a goddess.

  “I am,” she said, offering me a small smile. “There is no need for formalities, child. You are the mate of Loki’s and Thor’s sons. That practically makes us family.”

  “Oh, uh, okay.” I wasn’t entirely strong in the Norse gods’ family tree, but when I glanced up at Saga for confirmation, he simply shook his head.

  “Can you heal him?” I asked, resting a hand on Magni’s chest. Our bond was quiet, but not silent. He was still holding on. “There was a… a thing, in Mimir’s well. It bit his arm and… I think, drained his magic.”

  Freya looked over her shoulder again, but at Saga this time. “Mimir is missing?”

  “Well, if he isn’t in Valhalla. Whatever that thing was, it sure as fuck wasn’t Mimir,” Saga said with a shudder. I elbowed him in the ribs for using crass language around a goddess, but all it got me was his arms clamped tight around mine, restraining me.

  “That is troubling news,” Freya murmured. “Things are worse than I hoped.”

  “Worse than Ragnarök?” Saga said, voice sardonic.

  “Much,” she said, a frown drawing down her brow. It somehow made her beautiful profile even more jaw-dropping.

  “Does it… does it have something to do with how we had trouble entering Asga—?” my question was cut short when Saga clamped his hand over my mouth, muffling my voice.

  Freya whipped her head around, blue eyes piercing me. “Something blocked you from entering Asgard? Or someone?”

  I bit down on Saga’s palm, and he growled and pulled back his hand. “She’s one of them, Annabel. We can’t trust her.”

  “And so is Magni—who’s dying. If we can’t trust her, you wouldn’t have gotten into this wagon, would you?” I said.

  “That’s different. We don’t have a choice when it comes to Magni’s survival,” Saga said, dark eyes resting on the goddess. “He’s Thor’s son—she won’t let him die.”

  “We don’t have a choice with the other thing, either,” I protested. “We have to find Mimir.”

  “You went to see the Norns,” Freya said.

  “Yes, Verdandi. How did you—?” I asked.

  “Only they would have told you to seek Mimir’s council. And if he’s missing… perhaps that means someone doesn’t want you to hear his advice.”

  Saga narrowed his eyes at the goddess. “You know of the prophecy.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why would anyone try to stop us?” he asked, pulling me harder to his chest. I might have found it annoying, another display of his alpha dominance, but right then, I was grateful for his strength. I didn’t feel particularly like some figure of prophecy—just a scared human in a strange land. I was drained from the trial
and worry gnawed in my gut every time I looked at Magni’s pale face. My mate. He and I hadn’t found each other, like Saga and I had during his trial. We hadn’t developed that softness I now felt flutter in my chest where Saga’s bond hooked. But he was mine every bit as much as Saga was, and I his—and I’d never forget the way he’d embraced me when we returned for him. Right then, I didn’t care for gods or Jotunns, or even Ragnarök. All I cared about was that Magni survived.

  Freya seemed to read my thoughts. “We can discuss that when your brother is safe. Right now, he needs you both,” she said.

  “He’s no brother of mine,” Saga muttered, but there was little conviction in his voice. He felt it too, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The tie that bound us all together.

  The goddess laughed, a pearling sound that filled me with warmth despite my worry. “He is as much your blood as the men you’ll risk so much to save, son of Loki. Even now, you feel the bond to him. Don’t deny it. Your mate knows the truth.”

  Saga shot her a glare, but to my surprise he didn’t argue again. He merely held me tight and let his gaze flicker back to Magni, and I felt the swell of worry in our bond, even if he was too stubborn to acknowledge out loud what we both knew to be true.

  “How much longer?” I asked, letting my hand smooth over Magni’s slowly rising and falling chest.

  “Not much, little omega,” Freya said, holding a hand outstretched in front of her. “Folkvangr is near.”

  I followed the direction on her arm and bit down on a gasp. What I’d thought was a clump of trees on the horizon was finally close enough that I could see the true nature of the construct.

  Slender ash trees, stretching to the sky like columns on a temple, lined a wide path toward what seemed to be a fountain. And behind that, a house wrought from arched timber frames and crowned with silver tiles in the shape of a million leaves rose several stories high. Beautiful meadows blooming with wildflowers sprawled on either side.

  Whoever the architect of Freya’s house was, they’d somehow managed to capture her beauty and transform it into real estate.

  But as the feline-drawn carriage made its way to the goddess’ house, I was struck by how quiet it was. Peaceful, yes, but also… lonely. Not a soul save birds and insects enjoyed the meadows, and no servants came to greet her when we pulled up by the fountain next to stairs leading up to the arched entry to Folkvangr itself.

  “Bring him to the great room,” Freya said, before she gracefully leapt out of the carriage and climbed the stairs, leaving us to bring Magni in on our own.

  Saga heaved a deep sigh, squared his jaw and hauled the passed-out redhead over his shoulder, swearing under his breath when Magni’s full weight bore down on him.

  “Can I help?” I asked nervously as I tried to help him off the carriage. Saga ignored my outstretched hand, only giving me an arched eyebrow as he climbed off the wagon on his own. “Unless you’ve suddenly got enough of a grasp of your magic to levitate this fat fuck, then no, sweetling, I’ve got it.”

  Despite his complaints, he didn’t seem too cumbered down as we made our way up the stairs after Freya. I guessed being a demi-god had its advantages in the strength-department, because I knew from experience that Magni weighed a good bit more than what even your average alpha could carry. He was as massive as the Lokisson brothers, only Bjarni perhaps outweighing them all. If I were to guess, I’d estimate that Magni was somewhere north of four-hundred-pound pure muscle.

  The arched entry of Folkvangr led directly into a large open hall with domed ceilings high above. It might have reminded me of a cathedral, because every window lining the walls were open, allowing sunlight and the scent of wildflowers to waft in on a gentle breeze. However, the artwork decorating the ceilings was distinctly more of the erotic nature than you were likely to find in most churches.

  Up some steps at the far end of the hall was what I guessed was a throne made of intricately woven silvery branches, and in the center a wide altar rose up. Or, at least I thought it was an altar, until I got close enough to notice the furs and pillows.

  “Place him on the bed,” Freya said, putting a hand down on the apparently-not-an-altar.

  Saga obeyed, and I fluttered after him nervously, as if pulled by a string attached to both men.

  “Bare him,” the goddess said.

  “And that’s where I’m tapping out,” Saga said, stepping back from the bed. “You’re up, sweetling.”

  “You mean, strip him?” I asked, frowning at the goddess. “He needs medical help—”

  “And he will get it,” Freya said patiently. “We need to see the extent of the damages. Free him of his clothes, little one.”

  Who was I to argue with a goddess? Gingerly, I went about loosening leather cords and pulling on the unfamiliar style clothes. But undressing a passed-out giant was no easy task, not when his leg alone basically weighed the same as me.

  After watching me struggle for a while, Saga sighed and stepped in, helping me lift Magni’s heavy limbs and torso so I could get rid of the leather and fur covering his body.

  I shot Saga a grateful look, but his eyes were glued to Magni’s damaged arm, a deep frown marring his face. When I turned to look, I sucked in air between my teeth, my hands finding the dark, writhing markings of their own accord.

  They’d spread up along his shoulder and down his side, and I noted with worry that they were starting to span up his wide chest as well.

  “What happens if they reach his heart?” I whispered, searching for the goddess.

  She stood on his other side, a solemn expression on her beautiful face as she took in the extent of the infection.

  “If they reach his heart, he will die,” she said.

  “What happens when gods die?” I asked, blinking away the stinging in my eyes.

  “He would have gone to Valhalla,” Saga said from behind me. “He got his wounds in battle. But with Ragnarök….”

  “There will be no Valhalla for Thor’s son,” Freya said. “The end is here, and the gates are closed for lost souls. There is only one place for the dead to go—and no one returns from Hel. But if we act swiftly, you can save him still, little human.”

  “Tell me how,” I whispered.

  “Darkness is devouring his flesh. He needs your light to combat it. Use your connection—use your body to heal his.”

  “How? How do I do that?” I asked. “The magic, I don’t know how to control it.”

  “Your other mate will guide you,” Freya said, and I could have sworn there was a smile in her voice, but I was too focused on Magni to look. “You are an omega, child. There is only one way you can heal your wounded warrior.”

  Behind me, Saga muttered a low curse, but I still wasn’t getting it.

  “How—?”

  “She means you have to fuck him,” Saga said, irritation in his voice.

  “What?” I croaked, finally wresting my eyes from Magni to shoot the goddess a startled look. “I can’t—he’s passed out!”

  Freya only looked mildly amused at my confusion and Saga’s irritation. “Your connection to both your alphas is anchored in the pleasures of the flesh, omega. Take him inside of you and let your other mate guide your magic. Thor’s son needs you both. Will you save him?”

  I drew in a deep breath. In the end it didn’t matter if the way to save Magni was to awkwardly sex his passed-out form while Saga and the most beautiful woman—goddess—in the world watched. If I didn’t, he’d be lost forever. And so would both Saga and I.

  “Yes,” I said, slowly sliding my hands up along his chest. “We’ll save him.”

  25

  Magni

  “Magni. Magni. I need you to wake up now.”

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere, even if the disembodied sound of it seemed to float toward me from blank nothingness. I sighed softly, content in the knowledge that my mate was near.

  “Magni.”

  Tendrils of sensations crawled up along my torso, and my consc
ience landed inside my body with a near-audible thud.

  I groaned, suddenly aware of the ache in my arm and the stiffness in my muscles. And the weakness threading through every molecule in my body.

  “There you are,” Annabel whispered from somewhere above me, her hand gliding from my chest to my abs, and I realized it was her touch that’d brought me back to my body.

  “Are we safe?” I rasped, the effort of speaking nearly tearing my consciousness free again.

  “Yes. We’re at Freya’s house,” she said, her hands drawing smooth circles along my body, raising heat in their path. “But you’re very sick, Magni. And I… I need to heal you.”

  ‘You’re not… a healer,” I protested.

  “She is to you, godson,” a familiar voice spoke from further away. Freya. “She’s the only one who can bring back what the well dweller stole. She, and your brother.”

  “Modi?” I rasped, fighting and failing to crack open my eyes.

  “No,” Annabel said, but instead of elaborating, she ran her palms down to my navel, and a hot flare of need made me groan softly. It seemed even on my deathbed I wanted this omega more than I wanted air to breathe.

  Gentle fingers undid my pants, and my cock swelled in anticipation before she’d even touched it.

  Of course the goddess of Love would think to heal me with sex magic. Not that I was going to complain, once Annabel’s fingers stroked hesitantly up along my dick. It felt like fire and bliss, and I moaned softly into the darkness.

  But she was uncertain, my mate. I felt her hesitance and embarrassment in our bond, and knew she was uncertain how to proceed.

  It was only natural—she was an omega and I her alpha. She was the chalice and I the pitcher. She was born to receive me, not to assert her dominance over my prone body. I yearned to take control, to show her how to enjoy my body as she gasped and writhed underneath me, but my muscles refused to obey my command and I was trapped in my darkness.

  “Wrap your hands around him,” a low voice grated from somewhere behind Annabel.