11 Waiting

Asgard was a beautiful city, Perrikos would admit that much. A towering city of gold that shined with the sun's light that made the very city itself seem divine and alive. An untouchable, unaccountable utopia that was unrivalled by any city or structure within the Nine Realms. A truly wondrous display of power and wealth stood as an example of all Asgard had achieved since its foundation. From a pantheon of lost Aesir to an empire that spanned across the Yggdrasil.

Yet, underneath that beauty and prestige was a tale of blood and war.

The city had been built upon the blood of hundreds of Giants, Trolls, Elves, Dwarves, Vanir and Aesir back before the time of Odin.

And now, it was a city of beauty and culture. It was almost amusing in a way, how Odin attempted to distance himself from his true nature as a conqueror by making his city seem so peaceful and beautiful. But everyone in the Cosmos knew of Odin and what he really was, what the Asgardians really were.

They were a warrior culture who hid under the disguise of scholars and diplomats. Warmongers pretending to be peace-loving fools. Perhaps some had forgotten that warrior heritage and tried to deny it, but the blood of warriors ran through their veins. Though they may try to deny it, war and battle were Asgard's true strength.

It was sickening.

Especially when one truly looked at the city of Asgard.

It was an impenetrable fortress.

The placement of Asgard was truly ingenious, positioned in such a way to provide all the advantages to the defenders and none to the attackers. That alone was not acknowledging the technology and defences Asgard had in place to better help fend off any invaders. To invade Asgard, one would need the numbers necessary to wade through those defences before even reaching the walls and the defenders that would man them.

One could, in theory, invade from all avenues.

They could come by air, upon ships and beasts of all manners, rain death and destruction upon the Asgardians below. Even come from the north, right over the cliffs that dropped to the unknown depths of the cosmos below and over the Rainbow Bridge, the Bifrost.

If they so chose, they could attack from the west, the rocky hills and formations that had formed from past battles, brave the deep quagmire of swampland amidst it all. Or even from the east, the wide-open plains filled with fields of golden yellow wheat and rich green grass.

They could, if they so desired, come from the south, up the Sea of Mamora, passing through the Asgardian Mountains ruled by the Rock Trolls and their numerous warring Kings and besiege the port of Asgard.

Asgard by all accounts appeared completely exposed and vulnerable, but that was the trap, it was that which made Asgard the impenetrable fortress that it was. This image was nothing more than an illusion that had enabled Asgard to crush all invading armies time and time again. Whether Odin the All-Father lead the defence or the great warriors, Heimdall the All-Seeing, Tyr the God of War or Vidar the God of Strength, the result was always the same.

Asgard's victory and its invaders; decimated.

Travel up the Sea of Mamora and from the south meant being at the mercy of the sea creatures that lurked below. Standard ships and weapons proved ineffective against their might. Passing through the Asgardian Mountains meant the risk of being ambushed by the Rock Trolls who for the most part, cared little for negotiations of any kind, often conducting raids against any and all who came their way. Finally, upon reaching the port, they would be met by the powerful defensive naval force of the Asgardians with Uru-forged ships and powerful technological weapons crafted by the Dwarves of Nidavellir.

Coming for the east, over the farmlands and open plains would mean being spotted miles away if they were lucky to have avoided the gaze of Heimdall the All-Seeing up until that point. Even with superior numbers, the Asgardians had always been the most well-equipped and highly skilled army of the Nine Realms, unmatched by all.

If one chose to come from the west, it meant climbing over the rock formations and hills that had formed from past battles. Jagged and unstable structures were more likely to collapse at any moment than provide stable footing. Not to mention the exhaustive efforts it would take to navigate such a path, let alone the danger represented by the swamps. Who knows what traps were hidden beneath the surface of them, nor what creatures they hid? Let alone the risk of troops getting stuck and then ambushed.

Finally, the northern route, passing over the deep abyss and from the skies. A sensible option, if one ignored Asgard's own ships, ones equally capable of passing across the oceans as they were taking to the skies. Each forged from Uru and equipped with the best weapons making them capable of smashing through any ship and beast with little to no damage being dealt to its own hull.

Asgard's vulnerability was an illusion that lured those arrogant enough to think otherwise into its traps. The Dark God had studied the many maps of Asgard collected by his mother, some dating back to the first construction of the city to when Odin had taken over as King. With knowledge of past failed sieges and invasions, Perrikos had seen through that illusion.

As he watched the golden barrier rise up and surround the city, Perrikos knew this would not be as simple as simply arriving on Asgard and keeping the main force on Jötunheimr. No, to invade Asgard, would require pressuring Asgard from all sides.

Their main force was still upon Jötunheimr, the forces stationed here, on Asgard, small. Attacking from all sides would force the Asgard to spread their already minimal forces thin, leading to a greater chance of success. It was why they needed more soldiers, canon fodder that could keep the pressure up until Asgard would eventually fall.

Stomping forwards, Perrikos came to a stop beside his mother, the rest of the Dark Gods also gathered. Like always, his mother was sat on an open palanquin, looking on in amusement, completely unbothered by the appearance of the shield.

Beside her was Adva like the loyal bodyguard she was.

A little further away, stood King Rugga.

The Storm Giant King who had been brought along with them, his army accompanying them upon this historic event that would see Asgard's fall once and for all. Yet Perrikos paid him little mind, the Storm Giant was just that, a Giant. He was no God and when all was said and done, he would share the same fate as all that claimed themselves to be Kings. For now, though, his army would serve as useful additions to their own numbers.

"The shield was not in our plans," Perrikos spoke and Majeston Zelia nodded her head.

"True, but we had known that Odin would have some tricks up his sleeve." She replied, she then turned to her closest advisor, D'Chel. A Dark God made entirely of shadows as his glowing white eyes turned to Majeston Zelia as if feeling her eyes upon him. "Send in the slaves, let them test out the strength of the barrier."

Though their plan was to attack from all sides, right now, that barrier would make it pointless. They would need to wait until the barrier had been destroyed before they could unleash their true force upon Asgard.

D'Chel bowed." Of course, my queen." He replied and turned, leaving the rest of the gathered Dark Gods to carry out his orders. Perrikos, on the other hand, looked at D'Chel with barely contained disgust, he did not like nor trust him, after all, he wasn't known as D'Chel the Deceptor for nothing.

"Oh, do calm down, Perrikos." Majeston Zelia said in annoyance. "D'Chel has been my loyal advisor for centuries, if he wanted to betray me he would have done so a long time ago. Besides, he is smart and knows that the Union is the greatest weapon that we possess. Killing me loses us that weapon."

Perrikos nodded his head, but his distrust did not and will not ever disappear. He knew how D'Chel had earned the title of Deceptor before his mother, there had been another Majeston, the first Dark God, an equal to the All-Fathers of Asgard. When his mother had come of age and showed her unique ability of the Union. D'Chel who had been Majestons loyal advisor killed him and named Zelia as the knew Majeston, earning him the title as D'Chel the Deceptor.

If he could betray Majeston, what was to stop him from doing the same should someone else appear to be more worthy?

He was broken from his thoughts when he watched as the slaves unwillingly charged toward the barrier. It took them a pathetically long time to reach the barrier and as he watched them hack away at the barrier, he was irritated at how little effect they had.

And by little he meant nothing.

-X- Line Break -X-

Heimdall had known something was wrong the moment King Rugga had declared war. It was not the fact that he had, King Rugga's ambition to reclaim Asgard was well-known. It was the manner in which he had done so.

King Rugga had marched up to the tallest mountain in all of Jotuenheim, which so happened to be the tallest mountain in all the realms and had shouted his declaration of war for all to hear.

Heimdall due to his sight and hearing had instantly seen King Rugga's movement and had watched him climb the mountain with great interest and upon seeing his declaration had informed his King of the development. Both had agreed that King Rugga was up to something, more so than just declaring war on Asgard. It was certainly like King Rugga, but he gave up his greatest advantage, the advantage of surprise.

Now, all his worries had been proven true when he had seen a large invasion force appear on Asgard. Only for his sight to be blocked by a brilliant white barrier.

He had looked closer, studying the barrier and knew that blocking his sight was not the aim of the barrier, only a byproduct. Instead, its aim was to keep people from entering and leaving Asgard.

All of the pieces fell into place once he learned that.

Whoever was invading Asgard had needed Asgard's military to be divided and so, King Rugga had presented the perfect tool for them to use. No one was as respected and feared by both the Frost Giants and the Storm Giants. Laufey was the only a Frost Giant to ever have the respect of all of the Frost Giants, having united all of Jotunheim against Asgard.

While King Rugga was not as powerful as the Frost Giant King, he was certainly more influential. Having the respect of both races of Giants.

Whereas the bigger clans of Frost Giants would have been worrying, they would not have required such a large force to defeat. King Rugga was the only one who could unite a force of both races that would require nearly emptying Asgard of its military.

Something the invaders knew and had used to give themselves the advantage.

Still, as he stared up at the barrier studying it, he had already found numerous weak points. It would be a simple matter of taking down the barrier, but Heimdall knew that was only part of the problem. He would need to find a way to get him and his forces stationed here back to Asgard in time to be of use in the city's defence.

He would need to find a way to reverse the effects of the barrier from keeping people out, to allowing people in. He would need to find a way in which to take control of the power of the barrier and use it to teleport him and his forces to Asgard.

A task that while not difficult for the sorcerers brought along with them to aid in the fortification and defence of King Rugga's fortress, was proving time-consuming.

Still, he knew that his King would be more than capable of keeping the invaders at bay long enough for him to bring back reinforcements. Besides, if the situation became dire enough, Sigrún and the Valkyries would be there to reinforce the King.

Even now, with the barrier surrounding Asgard, Heimdall could see clearly into the positions of the enemy forces. He could see the ships moored upon the shores of the Sea of Mamora, soldiers waiting to board and sail up to the port. He could see the soldiers shifting and moving from the west and the beasts waiting to descend from the skies. Asgard was surrounded on all fronts, the main force stationed upon the east.

But despite that fact, Heimdall did not grow anxious or fearful.

Worrying and thinking of such simple matters would do him no good. Heimdall needed to focus only on the task at hand and only the task at hand. Already his commanders were preparing the troops to return to Asgard and beat back the invaders. There anger at the thought of their home being destroyed, tempered and contained, just waiting to be unleashed upon the enemy.

Now it was just a matter of finding that perfect weak point that would allow him to carry out his plan.

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