Algrim stood looking out of one of the ark’s windows, his fingertips resting lightly against the cool glass, his gaze fixed on the nothingness where only hours before had been the enchanting realm of Asgard with its golden silhouette and snow-capped mountains, its sprawling forests and crystal-clear lakes. Nothing remained of its former splendour. Nothing, but memories. The Realm Eternal was no more. He could not help but wonder if Asgard’s destruction was perhaps some form of poetic justice, meted out by the very one who had, long ago, been the last hope of Algrim’s people. Back then, Surtur had been defeated by Odin, driven back into the fiery bowels of Muspelheim.
Odin, too, was dead now, felled by old age. The All-Father, who had once turned the dark elves away when they had come to him seeking help against Jotunheim, had joined his queen in Valhalla, leaving his sons to sift through the rubble of a once great kingdom. Yet, kingdoms could be rebuilt. Asgard could be rebuilt. Svartalfheim, though, would never again rise from its ashes. The dark elves were gone - all but one.
Asgard had been a sanctuary to Algrim. It was the second world that had perished before his very eyes, the second home he had lost. Its treasures, its relics, its art, its flora and fauna, all of it was gone forever. What remained was its people. The Aesir were a homeless race now, adrift in space, left to the whim of fate.
Finding his silent ruminations interrupted by the sound of booted feet on metal, he turned around to find the king awake, a haunted look in his eye. “My Lord Thor.” Algrim inclined his head to the Thunderer, his face a study in concern. “What troubles you?”
Thor lingered on the edge of the deck, unsure how to broach the subject on his mind. Algrim looked as lost in thought as he himself had been before making the journey from his room to join his mentor.
“I need advice... if you’re willing to give it.” He hesitated for long moment before moving to stand beside the elf. “... I knew something like this would become my fate eventually, but it’s still so new and raw.” The king steeled himself, taking a drawn-out breath. “How did you staunch your anger after Svartalfheim fell? How did you cope?” He couldn’t lead while recent events began to catch up in his heart and mind and threatened to suffocate him. “How were you still so kind?”
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