The Ragnarok Trials

Day Nineteen: Burn it Down

Day Nineteen
         Burn it Down
Focus Word: Flame
Word Count: 2184

Michael sheathed his sword, the metal snick announcing my doom before the whole world, or at least the parts of it that knew Old Gods existed.

"You're going to let him kill me?" I whispered through the corner of my mouth closest to the Angel. "Seriously? Petty revenge never seemed like your style, Mike."

Fiery eyes glanced down at me, their intensity shocking even in dismissal. "You believe avenging whom you've wronged is petty revenge, Lie-Smith? It seems justice to me." Michael returned his gaze to the crowd, allowing to rest lightly upon the denizens of God Town. I wondered what it was like to be so sure of one's self, so easy in power, so secure in everything about them. In all of my years, I have never felt that sure of myself, and I sure as shit could never be so confident a leader as I saw standing in front of me now.

It amused me that only now, at the end of my existence, could I truly understand and respect Michael. Everything he had done, and continued to do for everyone. He made of himself an ideal and held himself to his own standard, judging the man in the mirror more harshly and scrutinizing it more deeply than he did anyone else. I know that I could never have done such a thing.

I would have burned it all to the ground, just to see the flame.

The crowd around me was going crazy, cheering and shouting as Heimdall passed between them, his eyes focused on nothing but me, hands grasped hard about the hilt of his sword. I could not argue that allowing the Watcher to kill me was, in a way, justice; he was, after all, the embodiment of whatever justice we of the Norse pantheon possessed. If Odin did not want the honor himself--and it appeared that he didn't--it was to Heimdall that the honor should fall. But Michael did not feel the pleasure radiating in waves from the man stalking toward me, or see the vindication and cruelty shining in his dark eyes.

How could a being of justice be so unjust, after all?

Michael should really have read up on his Norse myth. He would have known exactly how unjust he was being. Not to mention that I wasn't really guilty of the crime.

Gabriel must have sensed something of my panic, for he came up behind me and pressed his hands to my shoulders. "Sit still, Loki," he whispered, not loud enough for anyone to hear. "Do not move, you stupid man."

Something in his voice brought me up short, though I wasn't exactly moving. It didn't sound as angry as it should have, nor as cold and Angelic. Maybe I was hearing things, or it was just wishful thinking, but it sounded like the Gabriel that I had come to know and love. Hope surged through me suddenly, a brief flare that died the second I saw Heimdall approaching once more. Even if Gabriel had softened toward me, it was too late. Michael had already pronounced sentence and nothing Gabriel did, short of admitting to lying to his boss (the scariest Angel in existence), would get my life back. And even if he tried, I wouldn't let Gabriel sacrifice himself for me.

I don't know why, exactly, I would sacrifice myself for Gabriel. He'd turned against me, taken part in this grand charade, fallen in with my enemies and gotten me convicted of a crime I didn't commit. But I wouldn't let him die for me. And die he would, if he admitted to lying to Michael. Justice would practically demand it. Plus, who wanted an Angel that lied for his own gain? Michael certainly wouldn't.

It was far better for me, a god with more blood on his hands than Lady Macbeth (That's two for Shakespeare today! The silver lining just got a little bit bigger), to die than Gabriel, who was all things good, but just a bit too human to be a perfect Angel.

Heimdall had reached the dais now, and I could feel the wood shaking with every footstep. I am ashamed to admit this, but I trembled with fear, and I closed my eyes rather than watch my executioner come toward me. Gabriel kept his hands on my shoulders, pressing hard to keep me down, but gentle enough for me to know he meant it as support. I tried to believe in him. I tried to believe that he would make sure that everything ended okay for me, but I was just too damn scared. I didn't want to build something up, only to knock it back down again. I was too damn scared of dying.

For all my bravado, for all my apparent reconciliation with my own death, I was terrified. I didn't want to die. I didn't want this to be my last view of the sky, of the trees. I didn't want this to be the last time I heard a bird sing, or felt the burning sting of a fire. I didn't want to leave this world, the feel of the sun radiating down on my human skin.

I didn't want to die, and especially not for being someone that I hadn't been for a very long time.

I heard Heimdall's sword ring, and the screaming exultation of the crowd. Gabriel's hands tightened on my shoulders and I heard him whisper, but I couldn't understand it over the pounding of my heart. It was all too much. I could see and hear everything, but nothing was distinct, washed in a patina of shuddering terror.

I was not ready to die, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't even reach back and cling to the only person I wanted to cling to, lest I betray him with my actions. And so I would have to meet my doom alone, facing my enemies as a solitary figure on a dais.

It was as if nothing had ever changed. Loki standing against the world, facing the barrage of fear and loathing, standing straight and tall against the howling winds of violence and despair. Alone.

As I had lived, so would I die. And that broke my heart like nothing else could.

"Hold."

I opened my eyes and found that Heimdall held his sword above my head, and Michael and turned to him, a strange glow in his eyes. It was the Angel that had spoken, the force of his command binding the Watcher's limbs. I could see Heimdall twitching, fighting against the compulsion, the whites of his eyes growing red from anger and frustration.

My eyes roved, leaping from Michael to Heimdall and behind me to Gabriel in rapid succession, confusion and hope battling in my chest, fear threatening to surge and retake my heart.

"Gabriel, I sense an injustice here. Please bring me Heimdall's weapon."

The hands disappeared from my shoulders, only to reappear around the Watcher's sword. A tight smile pulled at Gabriel's lips, and a spark of triumph flashed in his grey eyes. My heart leapt in my chest to see it, but I dared not move, nor did I allow myself to believe that things might turn out well. This was likely just another delay. Another bump in the long road to my long overdue death. It had long ago been foretold that I would meet my end at Heimdall's hands. What was another few moments to the long view of destiny?

"The sword of Heimdall, Michael, infused with the power of the Bifrost, the one-time Rainbow Road of the Norse pantheon." Gabriel presented the sword to Michael, who stared at it for some time. Eventually, the golden-haired Angel glanced up, eyes darkening with a growing anger. "I needed to do this, Michael," Gabriel whispered. "A lie for justice. Loki had no way to prove it to you, and so I had to step up and prove it for him."

Silence washed over the crowd, who leaned forward as one to hear what went between the two Angels. They were as confused as I, and likely a great deal more angry. Blood was promised, and without it, they would probably burn everything to the ground to sate their blood lust. "Heimdall," Michael called out. "This weapon...do you know what I see when I look at it?"

Heimdall turned, freed from the spot in which Michael had trapped him. "What do you sense?" he growled, hands clenching, voice dripping with hate and anger.

"I sense the blood of one of your own. I sense that someone killed Baldur, but it was not Loki. This is what I sense from this sword."

A growl ripped its way from Heimdall's throat, and he launched himself at the Angel. "You will not stop me! You will not stop me! I will not have Ragnarok taken from me!"

Michael stood, but I could sense something building around him. As Heimdall came within a step, the Watcher froze. "You want the end of the world, Watcher?" Michael unsheathed his sword. "What would that accomplish for your kind?"

"He's blind," I replied, revelation dawning somewhere within me. "The Watcher is blind. This isn't about the end of the world, Michael. It's about losing everything that made him a God. Killing me was his sacred duty. It was what Ragnarok was for him. Dying and killing all at once, the proudest moment of his existence." I stood, staring at Heimdall with something akin to compassion building inside of me. At least, I think it was compassion. I've never really felt that before, so I was just guessing. "Killing Baldur would bring about Ragnarok and, thus, relieve him of his madness. This had nothing to do with bringing the Old Gods bak. It had to do with Heimdall wanting to die."

I walked across the stage, feeling the eye of every God in the crowd and both Angels, until I stood in Heimdall's path. "You had to know killing me wouldn't mean anything. I would have to kill you, too. Our battle would end with both of us dying, not you executing me."

Heimdall growled. "Your life stood in the way of my death. I knew I could not die if you yet lived. It is what I was made for, my great destiny. To kill you. If I was dead, I could not fulfill that destiny."

"And so you killed Baldur." This time, it was Gabriel who spoke. "Why not just kill Loki?"

"Only at Ragnarok could I kill the Lie-smith. And so Baldur needed to die." Heimdall shrugged. "The Old Ways must be preserved."

"And here I thought you wanted the Old Gods to rise again," I muttered. "Oh well, I was wrong. But I was close enough, anyway. Heimdall killed Baldur in order to get to me!" I turned to the crowd and crossed my arms. "That makes me innocent of the crime, doesn't it?"

Michael nodded. "You are innocent. It seems Gabriel arranged this whole charade in order to garner a confession from Heimdall, which was necessary to prove his guilt."

"Athena arranged it, actually," Gabriel replied. "Apparently, she took a shine to Loki upon meeting him." The Angel turned, casting a sidelong glance in my direction. "She approached me, as well as Ares and Odin. We concocted this when we realized that Loki was innocent, but we had no means by which to prove it. I apologize for the lie, Michael, but it was necessary."

Michael frowned. "I do not like it, but I can see how a lie may be used for justice. And Loki knew nothing of this?" The Angel turned to me, eyebrow raised. I shook my head. "Nothing at all?"

"Heimdall is all but blind, but we weren't sure that he wouldn't have some Sight left, especially with regard to Loki, from whom he would expect a lie. We had to make sure Loki believed that the frame job was legitimate, or else Heimdall might sense the untruth and not act the way he did." Gabriel turned to me then. "We are all sorry about the lie, my friend. But it was necessary."

"Enough." Michael raised his sword, the flame shooting along its length once more. "It is time for punishment. Heimdall, Watcher of the Norse Pantheon, you have confessed to the murder of Baldur Odinson and the attempted murder of Loki Laufeyson. Further, your weapon glows bright with the blood of her victim, incontrovertible evidence of your guilt. For this, I find you guilty and sentence you to death by beheading. I will carry out the sentence immediately.

The flaming sword arced through the air and toward Heimdall's neck.

There was a slicing sound, followed by a thud, and I was free.

I was free to live, and the case was finished. Everything was fine, and I was free. And, even better, Gabriel had done it all to keep be alive. But most of all, I was free.

I was free. And everything was going to be just fine.