Unforeseen

The Rage of the King

A disbelieving laugh huffed out of me as I panted, trying to catch my breath again. My eyes swept over the crowd as many of them cheered, rallying me on like I was a triumphant gladiator or something.

"I thought we were done having our asses handed to us by women when Lady Sif left!" one einherjar laughed.

"No ordinary mortal, that one!" Another commented.

I blushed as I received bows and praise from the cheering members of the crowd. Others just stood in surprise while others seemed to be measuring me up again, taking the match into account. I blushed a bit at the exuberant attention and the congratulations I was receiving, my eyes shifting around from face to face until I locked gazes with Tyr.

He was scowling, his face almost as red as his beard. He was frightening when mad, looking every bit like a god of war, but I refused to balk at him. I had won after all. I'd proven my own strength and exceeded the Asgardian warriors' expectations of me. Let him glare. He was the one that lost. These men, the ranks of Asgard's army, would not look at me as a helpless, delicate mortal weakling again.

In a sharp, smooth movement I turned my head from him, giving him the cold shoulder as I looked over at my opponent who had pushed himself back up to his feet, brushing the sand off his clothing. He was chuckling under his breath, eyeing me appraisingly. Suddenly a little embarrassed about this whole thing and the fact that I'd taunted him during our fight and that I'd just beaten him so publicly, I awkwardly offered him his spear back, "Good match."

I wondered if he was mad. Did he feel humiliated getting beaten by a girl, and a mortal girl at that? I hadn't wanted that. I didn't want to accidentally make a new enemy...

"And you as well." He flashed me a smile, "I thought the general was playing some cruel game with you putting you up against me, but it turns out that I was the one being severely outmatched. I did not realize I was going up against a mortal Valkyrie."

"I'm no Valkyrie." I assured him, blushing a bit at the compliment. I hadn't been expecting that. I thought he'd be mad, but it seemed that he was actually... I don't know...

As he took his spear back, our fingers brushed each other. I quickly pulled my hand back, surprised at the unintended touch, but Henir only chuckled agreeably, looking apologetic. He then gave me a look that I didn't quite understand before opening his mouth, about to say something when another voice boomed over the training grounds.

"Lord Tyr, what is the meaning of this?" My blood ran cold as I whipped around to see the Allfather standing above the main training grounds on a sort of balcony. He was gripping the balcony's railings so tightly with one hand and his golden scepter-like spear in his other that his knuckles were white, and his wrinkled face was twisted in a look of pure rage and indignation. His one eye glared daggers directly at Tyr.

Loki? He was here? Why was he here? How could he have heard about the duel and gotten here so fast? Had he been meaning to pay a visit to his training troops today anyways and just happened to catch the end of my fight? Or... oh gosh.. how long had he been there? How much of my fight had he seen?

The crowd of soldiers were once again standing straight as boards in full attention at the voice of their king. Tyr tucked his hands behind his back, standing straight and dignified as well, a look of resignation on his face, like he wasn't surprised that the Allfather was here. He'd known he'd been running a risk challenging me as he did, for all he knew I could've gotten defensive and raced away to report his rudeness to the king instead of taking him up on his challenge.

"Back to work, men." He ordered to the surrounding soldiers, who immediately obeyed, pairing back up to spar or going off to their other training sessions. None of them wanted to get between the powerful general and the furious authority of the king. Tyr then turned and started up the stairs towards the enraged king, walking with the refined gait of a high-ranking commander. His head was held high, his scarred face unrepentant yet dignified even under the Allfather's baleful eye.