Ragnarok does not go as planned

The sound of gjallarhorn shook the nine realms and all the surrounding galaxies, as Heimdall finally started the days end.
The Gods, Valkyries and warriors of Valhalla quickly armed themselves, and in but five days, they were flying with their vessels on the bifrost, heading towards Midgard.
They were all serious and yet excited, for Ragnarok was the most glorious battle one could participate in, and the place they are going will be Midgard, the main battlefield, and the place where their powers, and worshippers are.
And as soon as they entered the system, and Midgard was in their sight, they stopped.
The mighty army of the Northern Pantheon, the brave warriors that boast of no fear of death stopped.
For not far away from the planet’s moon a humongous corpse was floating in the space, unaffected by gravity.
A tall, sturdy God clenched his hand on his weapon…a short-handled hammer.
The corpse was that of Jormungandr, the world serpent.
Not far away from Midgard, countless spaces-drones were simply floating and vibrating at low frequencies, while an entire fleet of spaceships was patrolling the area.
“Those…machines, they are stabilizing the space around Midgard.
That’s why bifrost is getting slower the closer we get there.
This means we can’t enter the planet through teleportation, nor portal…
The same applies for the Giants as well…
We need to fly over.”
A tall, beautiful golden haired Goddess said.
At the helm of the first vessel of the Northern Pantheon stood a wizened old man, with an eye patch and two ravens on his shoulders.
“True warriors.”
He murmured, watching as they got closer to the patrol perimeter of the spaceships.
“Halt, Asgardians.”
A message was sent out telepathically.
The vessels came to a halt, with the bifrost already fading behind them.
“Greetings Midgardians, we’ve come in your aid, to weather through the winds and rain of Ragnarok…together.”
The old man said.
“Odin, I presume?
We know of you all, from stories which might be exaggerated, but we have information nonetheless.
Is your goal our well-being or are you just using our planet as a battlefield so yours remains intact?
After all, Fate and stories dictate the end of everything at the end of this fight.
Especially your end…Odin.”
The message came from the Midgardian fleet.
Odin just chuckled, but it boomed shaking everything around.
“We will have our fight, and we will protect you.
Whether you like it or not.”
He said.
No message came, but two drones.
Each of them carried a box which they softly let down in front of Odin.
From behind him, a tall one-handed god came and opened the boxes.
In them, two wolf head were laying quietly with open, alarmed eyes.
One had eyes as bright as the sun, the other eyes as pale as the moon.
“Skoll and Hati…”
The one-handed God murmured.
“Their parent is being chased by the 12th fleet right now, and our sensors are trying to pinpoint the ship of the dead, and that trickster friend’s of yours.
You were late, Gods, we can take care of ourselves, so, with all due respect and thanks, find your battle somewhere else.”
With that message, the ships started patrolling once more.
Odin laughed for a long time, before ordering his army to change direction.
“Well, Ragnarok does not go as planned, but if Midgard refuses to be the battlefield…
Jotunheimr will do it…”
He chuckled, as bifrost started shining brilliantly ahead of them, a clear sign that the Jotuns know not how to interfere with space travel as the Midgardians do…      

Published by omnithenerva

Wannabe fiction writer. In love with mythology, and fantasy themes.

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