Chapter 715

Malekith had come to a startling realization.

He was a clown.

Every victory and defeat, every moment of restraint and every desperate outburst, had been carefully arranged. Even his deepest convictions, his ambitions, the very thoughts he believed were his own, had been deliberately cultivated to shape him into the perfect performer.

It was a rather tragic fate.

Malekith, however, couldn’t have been happier.

So what if he was acting? So what if he was a clown? Did everyone get to perform for an audience like this?

His audience was Nyarlathotep, one of the Three Pillars and the messenger of the primordial heart of chaos itself!

The great being had taken an interest in him, carefully nurturing him as an actor and watching the tragedy and comedy of his people unfold through bloodshed and sacrifice. That wasn’t an insult. It was an honor!

Malekith had made up his mind. He would deliver the performance of a lifetime.

If he managed to please such an exalted entity, he wasn’t foolish enough to expect a personal visit or some grand reward. But perhaps Nyarlathotep might offer a word of praise. Perhaps a tiny gift would slip through the cracks of that unfathomable power.

Even the smallest scrap of such a blessing could sustain the Dark Elves for generations!

What an opportunity! Most people could spend their entire lives trying to attract the attention of a being like that and never get anywhere.

And then it hit him.

The Dark Elves called themselves the Children of Darkness. Nyarlathotep, meanwhile, was known as the Dweller in Darkness.

The connection was obvious.

This is practically our divine mother!

Why settle for plunging the universe into darkness when they could win the favor of the very being who embodied it?

Malekith’s excitement reached its peak.

Without another moment’s hesitation, he took three quick steps and practically danced across the floor, landing beside Frigga with the flourish of a ballet dancer. He dropped to one knee, gently took the queen’s hand, and arranged his face into an expression of profound sincerity.

"Beautiful Queen Frigga, I beg your forgiveness for my earlier discourtesy. Would you be so kind as to reveal the whereabouts of the Aether?"

His voice suddenly rose in dramatic intensity.

"Otherwise, even if your beauty rivals that of Lady Livi, I shall be forced to resort to rather uncivilized methods!"

Frigga stared at him in stunned silence.

All she could manage was a stiff shake of her head.

She wasn’t the only one bewildered. Even the Cursed Warrior standing nearby seemed utterly lost. What had happened to their king? Was this really how interrogation was supposed to work?

Before anyone could make sense of it, the chamber doors exploded inward.

Thor charged through with Mjolnir raised, lightning crackling around its head. But when he saw his mother pinned to the floor by the Cursed Warrior, who held her down by the back of her neck, he stopped short.

He couldn’t afford to rush in recklessly with Frigga in their hands.

The thunder rolling around his hammer made his fury abundantly clear.

Odin arrived moments later.

The tip of Gungnir blazed with light as he entered the chamber, his anger even more palpable than Thor’s.

They had invaded his kingdom, challenged his authority, and blown apart his throne room. Those offenses could be dealt with later.

But what, precisely, was Malekith doing on one knee while holding his wife’s hand?

That required an explanation.

Odin hadn’t even had time to deliver the customary warning about surrendering peacefully when Malekith sprang to his feet.

He dusted off his clothes, seized his cloak, and spun around once, sweeping the fabric across half his face in a theatrical flourish.

"Oh, Odin, son of Bor! My eternal nemesis!"

He spread his arms wide.

"Have you come to rescue your beloved? How touching!"

Malekith’s voice swelled with passion.

"Alas, you are not the leading man in today’s drama. Still, I am delighted that you have joined us. For this magnificent production can only reach its glorious finale through the clash between you and me!"

Odin’s single eye widened.

His mouth hung open. Gungnir nearly slipped from his hand.

He seemed to be trying to force a thousand different responses through his throat, but not a single word emerged.

What in the Nine Realms had happened to this man?

Thor looked almost as bewildered. Fortunately, his mind seemed to arrive at the obvious question a little faster than his father’s.

He edged toward Evenson and lowered his voice.

"What’s going on? Who in the Nine Realms is this lunatic?"

"Well..." Evenson scratched his head. "That’s Malekith. King of the Dark Elves."

"That’s him?"

Thor’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

"My grandfather’s greatest achievement was defeating the Dark Elves. The skalds make that war sound like the greatest military triumph in history. And all this time, this was the enemy he fought?"

Thor struggled to reconcile the spectacle before him with the stories he’d grown up hearing. Bor had driven back the darkness, crushed the Dark Elves, and saved the universe. Thor had always imagined a fearsome enemy worthy of such a victory.

Instead, his grandfather might have spent years fighting a lunatic.

Which raised some uncomfortable questions about Bor himself.

"To be fair," Evenson said weakly, "he was perfectly normal until recently. He only just lost his mind."

He glanced at Thor.

"And don’t look at me. I had absolutely nothing to do with it!"

"Let us give this magnificent drama everything we have!" Malekith suddenly shouted, throwing both arms into the air.

Evenson flinched and turned away.

I made up a few things, and you actually believed me?

Fine. If Malekith wanted to become an actor, that was his business. But couldn’t he at least put in some effort? A few lessons in stagecraft wouldn’t hurt. His gestures were so exaggerated that even a pantomime performer would have told him to dial it back.

Odin finally recovered from his shock. He rubbed his dry eye, then noticed that Malekith had moved away from Frigga during his grand performance.

An opportunity.

If Odin could strike the Cursed Warrior with Gungnir and kill him in a single blow, rescuing Frigga might still be possible.

The spear’s tip began to glow.

"An unwise thought, my nemesis!"

Despite his newfound passion for the theater, Malekith’s instincts remained sharp. The moment he noticed Odin preparing to act, he leaped backward and returned to Frigga’s side.

A small, pitch-black dagger appeared in his hand. He pressed its point against the queen’s neck.

"I strongly advise you not to make any sudden moves!"

Odin reluctantly halted.

Fine. I won’t move.

But would you please stop talking like that? Every time you open your mouth, I feel as though something unpleasant is about to happen to me.

"Relax," Malekith said, idly twirling the dagger between his fingers. "You must be careful, though. This little blade is coated in the deadliest poison imaginable."

He arranged his face into a suitably sinister expression, lifted the dagger to his lips, and...

Licked it.

"Hey! Hey, he’s actually licking it!" Evenson exclaimed, pointing at Malekith with delighted disbelief.

"So there really are people that stupid!"

"Thank you for the reminder," Malekith replied calmly.

He showed no sign of distress.

"The poison only works when it enters the bloodstream. Swallowing it is harmless."

"Oh."

Evenson’s face fell.

So much for finding out whether real life has people that stupid.

"My nemesis, I ask your forgiveness as I make my exit."

Malekith bowed slightly.

He had finally accepted that recovering the Aether today was unlikely. Retreat was the sensible choice.

As for using Frigga as a hostage to force Odin to surrender the Aether, Malekith considered that strategy too crude and too risky.

Odin wasn’t the sort of king who would readily sacrifice his kingdom’s interests for one person, even his wife. Malekith knew he certainly wouldn’t make such a concession for his own spouse.

Worse, Odin might pretend to negotiate while buying time for the armies stationed throughout the Nine Realms to return to Asgard. Once those forces arrived, the Dark Elves could find themselves trapped.

But there was an even more important consideration.

A performance that ended this quickly, with such a predictable hostage exchange, would surely disappoint their distinguished audience.

And that would be a catastrophe.

Then Malekith’s eyes narrowed.

He might not be able to claim the Aether today, but he could still make this scene more memorable.

"Accept this offering of suffering, Dweller in Darkness!"

Without warning, he drove the poisoned black dagger into Frigga’s arm.

It happened so quickly that nobody had time to react.

Oh, Nyarlathotep! Oh, Nyarlathotep! With a faithful heart, I dedicate this tragedy to you!

"No!"

Thor saw his mother stiffen and collapse. His fury finally broke free.

He thrust Mjolnir forward.

Lightning erupted in a devastating torrent, striking Malekith and burning half his face to a charred ruin.

The Cursed Warrior reacted just as quickly. He shielded his master, dragged him toward the balcony, and leaped over the edge with him.

Thor raced to the railing, but by the time he looked down, a Dark Elf warship was already sweeping past.

Malekith stood at its open hatch, his ruined face turned toward Asgard.

"I’LL BE BACK!"

Thor roared in rage and hurled Mjolnir after the fleeing ship.

The hammer nearly reached its target, but the warship jumped away before it could strike.

Thor could only watch it vanish.

With a frustrated bellow, he turned and rushed back to his mother.

Odin was already holding Frigga in his arms. He examined her anxiously, searching for any sign that the wound was fatal.

She was unconscious, and her breathing was faint, but she was alive.

That was enough.

Asgard possessed some of the finest medical knowledge in the Nine Realms. As long as a person still drew breath, surely there was something that could be done.

"We can save her."

Odin clung to the thought as he held his beloved wife close.

Then Thor noticed something strange.

"What’s that?"

A thin black line had appeared along Frigga’s neck.

He leaned closer. The line was moving, creeping upward beneath her skin. Its source seemed to be the wound Malekith had inflicted.

"No..."

Odin stared at Frigga’s arm.

The wound had turned completely black. Thin, dark tendrils were spreading outward from it, crawling beneath her skin and branching toward the rest of her body.

"It’s Night Cicada."

"What is that?" Thor demanded.

Odin’s expression crumpled.

"It’s one of the Dark Elves’ most potent poisons. Extremely rare."

He sank to the floor, cradling Frigga as though the world had suddenly become too heavy to bear.

"The poison works slowly. Its victims fall into a prolonged coma, but the suffering they endure during that time is beyond imagination."

Thor’s face drained of color.

"But there must be a cure, right? Father, you know what it is. You must know how to treat it!"

Odin lowered his head.

"There is no antidote."

The words came out broken.

"All we can do is make her final moments as painless as possible."

For a moment, Thor could only stare at him.

Then despair gave way to defiance.

"I don’t believe you!" he shouted, springing to his feet. "There isn’t a poison in the Nine Realms that can’t be countered! If we don’t know how, then the Dark Elves do. I’ll find them and drag them back here myself!"

"Hold on."

The voice came from Evenson, not Odin.

"I might be able to cure her."

Everyone turned toward him.

For the first time since the attack, hope appeared in their eyes.

"Can you really do that?" Thor asked.

The hope in his voice was tempered by doubt. One of Evenson’s reasons for coming to Asgard had been to seek medical treatment himself. That hardly suggested he was an expert healer.

Evenson understood the problem and chose his words carefully.

"Honestly, I don’t recognize this poison. But the method I know works against most toxins. Given the situation..." He let the sentence trail off.

There was no need to finish it.

Frigga was dying. They had nothing to lose by letting him try.

As he spoke, Evenson slipped a Healthstone into her hand.

To everyone’s surprise, the black tendrils slowed their advance.

Odin stared at the stone, then down at his wife’s hand. The object looked faintly ominous, but its effect was undeniable.

He considered the situation for a moment before lifting his gaze to Evenson.

"Very well. Please."

Coming from the All-Father, the word carried enormous weight. Odin was not a king accustomed to begging favors, but Frigga meant more to him than his pride ever could.

"There’s a catch," Evenson said, narrowing his eyes. "I’ll need quite a few things to perform the ritual. I have some of the materials with me, but the rest..."

"Asgard will provide whatever you need," Thor declared immediately. "Name it, and I’ll get it!"

"First, I need a volunteer."

Evenson spoke with the solemnity of a man preparing to explain a delicate medical procedure.

"I can cast a spell that links the volunteer’s life force to the queen’s. The volunteer will share the burden of the poison, reducing Frigga’s suffering and increasing the chances that my treatment will work."

Thor nodded, absorbing the explanation.

"Fine. Who do you need?"

"The volunteer must be a woman, since she’ll be linked to the queen. She should also be young..."

Evenson’s eyes drifted sideways.

Nobody reacted.

He cleared his throat and continued, a little louder.

"Healthy. Strong. With plenty of vitality!"

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Evenson shot Sif a pointed glare.

What are you waiting for? This is your chance!

Since Odin’s arrival, Sif had been lingering off to the side, perhaps out of guilt over the earlier chaos. Evenson had been trying to catch her eye for some time, but she’d failed to notice.

At last, she understood.

Sif dropped to one knee before Odin.

"All-Father, I volunteer to share the queen’s burden. It is my duty to serve Asgard."

How did I not think of this sooner?

It was the perfect opportunity to win the favor of her future in-laws.

The ritual carried real risks, but Sif glanced at Thor and found her resolve.

For this blockheaded man, it’s worth it.

After I save his mother, let’s see how he plans to repay a debt like that!

Her brief look toward Thor didn’t escape Odin’s notice.

He studied Sif with quiet approval.

I knew I was right about her. The position of crown princess could hardly be in better hands.

"Good. That takes care of the volunteer," Evenson said, giving Sif a small nod.

"Next, I’ll need some ritual equipment."

He paused, apparently considering his requirements.

"First, a basin. No, a bucket. At least this tall."

He held a hand at waist level to demonstrate.

"It has to be solid gold. Ideally, the outside should be decorated with gemstones."

Thor’s eyelid twitched.

"Then I’ll need two large ivory goblets, trimmed with gold and studded with gems."

Thor’s expression grew increasingly strained.

Are you trying to save my mother, or are you taking advantage of the situation to rob the royal treasury?

"And finally..."

Evenson’s expression darkened as he delivered the last requirement.

"I’ll need sacrifices. A great many sacrifices."

...