A Shadow on the Light of Asgard

Recorded: April 28, 2014
Characters: Frigga, Malekith
Location: Asgard Palace - Odin and Frigga's Chambers
Summary: Malekith puts an end to Frigga's suffering.


Frigga has not been idle in her bed-ridden state. Despite the pain it's caused her, she has been searching as deep as her dwindling reserve of magic will allow. Her brow is creased with concentration as her mind's eye attempts to find the source of the cursed part of the disease that grips her. If anyone unfamiliar with magic were to wander in at this moment, they would see their ailing queen's eyes wandering rapidly and think she were only suffering the fevered effects of the plague.

Unfortunately for the Allmother, somebody very skilled in the arts of magic enters the chamber at the sound of the queen's stirring. A healer enters the chamber, her ancient eyes lidded with wrinkles and creased into a steady frown. "You must rest, your grace." She cautions, hobbling forward to try and help Frigga into relaxing on the bed. Her drab robes dust at the stone upon her approach while a collection of 'curative' salves and ointments jingle at her belt.

Though her body may be weak, Frigga's mind is alert with the mystic power channeling through it. As the old healer creeps closer to her bed, the Queen of Asgard's inner searching picks up on something that undoubtedly went unnoticed by the Einherjar posted at the door of her chambers. Her hand suddenly shoots upward to grab onto the healer's arm at the same time that her gaze lands on the woman's face. For the first time in days, Frigga's gaze has absolute clarity. "You."

The woman produces a vial in her palm upon approach, flipping the cork away with a yellowed, craggy thumbnail. The healer rushes forward with uncanny swiftness to clasp Frigga's mouth shut with the vial upended within; firmly, but gently, shoving her deeper into the bed. Her kindly brown eyes shift and flicker an iridescent shimmer of blue as Malekith gazes into Frigga's face with sharp, sneering smile. "Shhhh…" His voice whispers out from that elder face.

Frigga struggles but her strength is a fraction of what it should be. Anger flickers in her bloodshot eyes and she elicits muffled yells that are broken up by choking sounds as the liquid drains into her throat. A brief shimmer of light passes over her as the magical resistance she held onto gives way, then her eyes begin to lose focus, her chest heaving for breath but becoming too heavy to draw air.

"Oh dear." The healer murmurs in a distressed fit, her voice and eyes having returned to their usual dull hues. She leans in with a weary frown, one hand still clenched across Frigga's mouth while the other searches the Allmother's pulse. "Those dashing and handsome princes. One by one, the breath will be throttled from their lungs." She says with a quiet giggle, finally releasing her grasp and collecting both vial and cork.

Hatred boils within the All-Mother but her only outward reaction is to pull helplessly at her chest and throat. She can feel her life leaving her but refuses to let it go without a fight. Clenching her eyes shut, she takes as deep a breath as her heavy chest will allow. She looks to be holding her breath, but something within her sinks and departs, rushing through space and time only to dissipate in the distance. With that departure, Frigga's body has lost all strength to resist the disease and added poison. Her eyelids roll back to allow her a final gaze at the ceiling of her chambers, her grip goes lax on the front of her gown, and her lips part to let the last of her breath escape into oblivion.

A serene smile slithers across the old healer's features as Frigga passes from one world to another, leaving behind her hideous, Vanir husk of a body. The healer takes a deep breath and resets her face with absolute panic, pulling a vial of curative salve from her belt and tossing it at the floor with a shattering pop. She backs towards the door, tripping over her robe with a horrified and grief-stricken wail. "The queen!"

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