Brother,

This evening I spoke with Prince Kurogane in the library. It may surprise you but what should be the topic of discussion, but you!

Prince Sparkypants told me that he admires you very much indeed, which should come as no surprise after all the staring! Indeed, I think perhaps everyone in Asgard is aware of the atmosphere that lies thick and heavy between you. You are, dear brother, the last to come to the party!

The Prince confided to me that he would not hesitate to take you as his consort and raise you above all others, but for one or two minor little details - that you might consider becoming just a tiny bit more serious, for example, and perhaps work just a little bit more on your combat skills. But those minor considerations aside, is it not a grand thing to have the love of a Prince?

Can you not see yourself in the years to come, sitting at the prince's right hand and presiding above the court, basking the reflected gleam of their respect and awe? All would love you, for you would bring joy and laughter to the throne of Asgard, the light to Kurogane's darkness, the day to his night, the clear sunny sky to his storm clouds. It is a balance that was written in the heavens, brother, a complement of order and chaos that brings new life to the world. And let's also not forget the benefits of Prince Musclebound himself.

Have you not dreamed of reaching out to that grim face, to smooth away the angry lines at his eyes and cover his frowning lips with your own? To bring a light to those crimson eyes, and a laugh to his throat, as so few have ever done before? Have you not wondered if he would taste, as he smells, like the sky split open? Have you not longed to run your fingers over those long, long limbs, and feel the lightning chained within?

Surely, surely that would be worth li holding on for?

Dear Brother,

What are you going on about? Silly - you know I don't like Kuro-tan that way.

Father's audience will be tomorrow! I'm excited, so many interesting people are coming. Did you hear, the sons of Hreidmar will be in attendance - the brothers of Ótr, that shapeshifter we killed. Remember that time - wasn't it funny? He flopped around like a fish with his brains spilling everywhere!

There's also going to be an also an emissary from Muspelheim. I wonder where they'll put him? If they're not careful he'll set fire to the curtains...

--------------


Valaskjalf, the great golden-roofed hall was packed full today. It was the eve of one of the Allfather's open audiences, where anyone from the Nine Realms could demand audience with the King - either to beg a boon, or else claim an injury and demand recompense. Such sessions were infrequent - the last one had been ten years ago, by Kurogane's reckoning - and so people tended to come from far and wide to make their cases.

Bodies of all shapes and sizes filled the hall, muttering and shuffling for better footing and elbowing each other for room. A contingent of slim and fluttering Ljosalfar in one corner gave a wide berth to a lonely and looming storm giant, who had to bend his head carefully so as not to brush the smoke-darkened ceiling. Adding to the crowd, many supplicants came not alone but were accompanied by supporters to argue their case for them (or in many cases, their enemies, to argue against them.) There were also many who came only to watch, on top of those - like Kurogane - whose duties demanded they be here.

At the far end of the hall from the great doors, the air lightened. Most of the hall was dark, lit only from beneath by torches which sent soot up to blacken the heavy oak beams looming overhead and set the pillars to glow, but here above the throne the rafters became more widely spaced, the roof opening up to admit a hazy, filtered light from above. Directly behind the throne stood the great elm tree, its branches spreading to provide the canopy above; drooping curtains of leaves formed the walls on either side, whispering as the shifted with a wild and strange power that gave them the strength beyond that of any stone-walled castle. A spring bubbled from the foot of the throne, flowing cold and swiftly out of the hall; where, Kurogane knew, it would grow to form the river Hvergelmir that fed all the fertile lands of Asgard, and eventually tumbled over the edge of the world to rain on the realms below.

Ashura All-Father himself sat on the great golden throne from which he could see into any corner of his realm. His grand robes swept to either side of the dais, impeccably neat despite the heat of the hall, and a crown of twisted gold sat lightly upon his head. In this guise he had never looked more like the god of wisdom, scholars and poets which made up his gentler aspect; and his abstracted, benevolent look inspired a perhaps-unwarranted confidence in many of those who came to petition him.

Kurogane respected and honored his father, as did all of Asgard; but Kurogane was also wise enough to fear him, as well. King Ashura did not spend all his time on his throne, after all. He was as often in the fields of battle, riding the winds of howling gales down upon the armies and harrying the soldiers on the field, changing his allegiances from one army to another on a whim and laughing as his horse trampled the slain under his hoofs.. He bore an enchanted spear which never missed its mark, but he was just as likely to dismount and tear into foes with his bare hands, as well.

Ashura ruled over madness and chaos as well as order and strength - whether that was the beautiful turmoil of a poet's soul or the furious bedlam of the battlefield. All of his sons had inherited these traits, to a lesser or greater degree. They lined up today at Ashura's right side; sinister Seishirou, genial Fuuma, reserved Kazuhiko with his maimed right hand, and Kurogane himself. They each had their special realms of influence, but the strain of chaos ran true in each of them - Kurogane's domain was given over storms and thunder, the tumult and furor of the wind and water. He understood better than most how vital a healthy dose of unrest was in any given system - it kept things from getting too settled, too stale, brittle and weak with a lack of challenges. Change was good, for stagnation was death.

Perhaps that was why Ashura invited the frost giant twins to these audiences; Fai currently lounged at Ashura's left hand, leaning with one elbow against the arm of the gold-plated throne and careless of such niceties of chairs. Though he was not Ashura's son by blood, no one (dared to) dispute his place on the dais. Fai's suggestions, while always unorthodox, sometimes provided solutions that never would have occurred to the other Aesir. When the jotun Satsuki had come before Ashura, demanding recompense for the death of her father Thjazi, one of her demands had seemed impossible - that they should make her laugh. Satsuki was well-known throughout the realms for being grim and completely devoid of humor, yet it was Fai who had managed to fulfill the task of making her laugh. (Kurogane still wasn't sure exactly how he'd done it, only that it had involved a length of cord, an octopus, and fifteen minutes in a private room with her.)

Kurogane kept a wary eye on him, not sure quite what he expected. They hadn't spoken again since the night in the library - what was Fai thinking? Planning? Did he know about his brother's little trick? Was that even Fai at all, or Yuui in disguise? Yuui hated politicking, Kurogane knew - but then again maybe he'd never known either of the brothers as well as he'd thought.

The day was only half over and Kurogane was already inclined to throw the whole lot of them out on their heels and go back to bed; he couldn't blame his father for doing this only every ten years, if that meant less of this tedious clamor. At least the delay tended to weed out casual gawkers; only those with great determination to their causes would wait this long, come this far and fight their way through the crowd to plead their case.

Ashura called for the next petitioner, and a mismatched pair of men stepped up before the dais. One of the men was tall and rangy, his head nearly brushing against the branches overhead. The other was short and stocky - he was actually not much shorter than the other Aesir, but his immense broadness and the contrast with his companion made him seem stumpy and squat. Despite the difference in height, there was a similarity between their features that made Kurogane sure they were related, and something about those features rang a faint warning in his head. He straightened up, frowning at them, as they made their bows.

"You stand before Hlidskjalf, the throne of the gods," Ashura proclaimed, his voice ringing clear and unwavering to the rafters despite how many times today he'd had to recite this line. "What would you have of them?"

"Justice, my lord king," the shorter of the men said, in a creaky voice that rumbled and buzzed in his stocky frame.

"State your name and your cause," Ashura said, settling back slightly and tilting Gungnir to his hand. His expression and voice remained mild, and Kurogane wondered how anyone could be fooled by it.

"I am Fafnir, and this is my brother Regin," the man explained, indicating his companion. "We are the sons of the dwarf-king Hreidmar, master of the mountain fastness. Alas, there should be three of his sons here today; but our brother Ótr is slain."

At the name Ótr, recognition finally clicked, and Kurogane nearly groaned aloud. He knew this family all too well. Hreidmar was one of Asgard's more obstreperous neighbors; he was a poor host and an unruly neighbor, letting his livestock (and his sons) wander heedlessly over the boundaries of his territory. His was not a large kingdom, but a dangerous one, since Hreidmar was a master of black magics and a crafter of fearsome weapons. Kurogane now recognized the axe Fafnir bore at his side from legends; it was Gram, Sigurd's bane. Forged through sorcery, it was said that the axe was so strong that it could cleave an anvil in twain, and so sharp that it could cut a man's soul from his body so that he fell dead without a mark.

Kurogane eyed the pair of them with increased suspicion, his hand creeping towards Ginryuu's hilt - although surely not even Hreidmar's son would be so brash and foolish as to start a quarrel in King Ashura's own hall?

"Six years ago, my brother was traveling in the mountains near our home," Fafnir continued. "He was engaged in that most peaceful of activities, fishing in the river streams, when he was set upon by a band of Aesir, bound, and murdered - without your command, great king, I am most sure."

That was one way to tell the story, Kurogane reflected sourly. He had been part of the band that had been dispatched, six years ago, to see to the murderous giant that was wreaking havoc on the fishermen and farmers of the northern mountains. Their enemy had proven himself a shapeshifter, and so for days confounded their attempts to either capture him or drive him away by taking on one fearsome form after another.

In the end it had been the twins who had finally defeated him; Fai had gone to him bare of sword and shield and persuaded the giant to sit with him by the side of the river, drink mead, and talk. Gradually Fai had persuaded Ótr to take the form of an otter, a river dog, in order to show off his skills at swimming.

The moment he had done so, Fai quickly whipped out a fishing net he had hidden under his clothes, and cast it about the shapeshifted body, dragging him from the river to the shore. There, Yuui had bashed his head open with a riverbank stone, accomplishing in one blow what all of the warriors of Asgard could not.

"My brother was tricked and deceived to his most heinous murder," the dwarf Fafnir was saying. "His murderer called him under a false flag of truce, which he then betrayed. On behalf of our father, we come to demand justice for my brother's death - either a suitable wergild paid, or his murderer's head returned to us."

The problem was, no matter how obnoxious Ótr had been making himself, he was still the son of a king - and the legendary black magics of dwarf-king Hreidmar could make trouble indeed for Ashura. Kurogane shot a quick look across the throne to see what Fai  was making of this - but the frost giant just stood there with a pleasantly blank expression, apparently finding nothing about this audience the slightest bit out of the usual.

"Very well," King Ashura replied. "Let it not be seen in all the Nine Realms that Asgard is unjust, or blind to a father's grief. We will offer suitable repayment for your brother's death."

Heads nodded all around the chamber, and there were a few awed or approving murmurs. The wergild for a death varied in amount depending on the station of the slain; for a peasant or thrall, a few coppers; for a freedman, a gold coin; for a noble or a man of station, the weight of the fallen man's head in gold. For the son of a neighboring king, the ransom would be weighty indeed, and it was no small concession for Ashura to agree to it.

"The barren void in our house, at our table, in my brother's saddle cannot be easily filled," Fafnir said warningly. "To recompense such a tragedy, my father asks no less than my brother's own weight in treasure."

Gasps at his audacity filled the hall, yet Ashura himself did not blink an eye. "Very well," he stated. He stood, and slammed the butt of Gungnir firmly against the dais. "Bring to our scribes the stones that approximate your brother's weight, and we will see the balance equaled in gold -"

"Oh, not gold," Fafnir interrupted.

Now Ashura did hesitate, the merest shiver of an eyelid reflecting the ripple of confusion that ran along the room. "Not gold?" the King repeated, his voice taken slightly aback.

"Of course." Smirking, Fafnir glanced around the room. "That the halls of Asgard drip with gold is well known. The dwarven kings tell legends of the enchanted golden ring Draupnir, which multiplies itself eightfold every fortnight. After so many centuries of this, it is no wonder that gold overflows from Asgard as abundantly as water flows from this spring.

"I have seen as I walked through your kingdom the buildings with their walls sheathed in it, the statues and columns wrought of gold, used in even the common man's tableware. So much gold have you, Princes of Asgard, that it is worth less even than the commonest brass. You spend it so freely, that the value of all the gold in all the lands is as nothing to it. How could we take as payment a metal so cheap and tarnished?"

The confused mutter among the crowd grew louder, with not a few people wondering if the magician's son was perhaps deranged. Kurogane could only echo the confusion. Gold was gold. Of course it had great worth and value; it was gold. Why would it be worth less just because they had a lot of it?

Fafnir spread his hand over his heart and gave a little bow towards the throne, and the mockery in it was plain to see. "So do not offer me gold, All-Father; my father demands treasure. Grant us the full measure of our brother's death, not in gold, but in silver." His eyes wandered across the room to light on Fai, and a cruel and cunning smile twisted his lips.

Kurogane's mouth fell open in dismay. Silver was a rare commodity in Asgard; indeed, what need had they of such a lesser, easily tarnished metal when all they needed could be polished of gold instead? Even if they gathered up all the silver from every corner of Asgard, it was unlikely that they could come close to filling Fafnir's ransom request.

And it was certain that he knew it. The All-Father had already agreed to pay Ótr's death-ransom; if he reneged on his debt now, his name would be sullied among all the Realms.

The mutter among the crowd was growing into a roar like the sound of the surf, and Ashura cut it off with a sweep of his arm and the ringing crash of Gungnir against the stone. "Enough!" he called out in a terrible voice. "The house of Ashura pays its debts, dwarf. Give us a month to gather a tribute, and you will have your silver."

The restless tumult settled to a murmur, and Fafnir bowed before the All-Father's throne, a satisfied smile fixed on his face.

But Kurogane's unease was not so easily settled. Even a month might not be enough time to gather all that was required, not even if they were forced to stoop to asking their neighbors for help. With Hreidmar on their flank, trade caravans were slow and difficult, especially bearing such a weight of metal.

Kurogane did not doubt that this delay was intended. Neither Hreidmar nor his sons could have any particular lust for silver; they had mines of it in their own country, if that was what was wanted. He suspected rather that it was a delaying tactic, a way to turn up the pressure on Ashura while concealing his real intention.

For when anyone spoke of silver in the halls of Asgard - quick and darting, pale and shining, mercury-shifting silver - there was usually only one thing they truly meant:

Fai.

---------

A week passed in Asgard, and the sons of Hreidmar showed every indication of becoming permanent fixtures.

All of the other supplicants to King Ashura had departed, yet those two remained; they had entrenched themselves in the guest room Ashura had commanded for them, and made themselves unendingly obnoxious to their hosts. Fafnir kept the terrorized servants running at all hours with bizarre or extravagant requests, and enjoyed nothing so much as destroying or despoiling the fine decorations and furniture left within reach.

Still Ashura had not yet been able to gather together the requested weight of silver, and still the two dwarves lingered. On the first Wednesday after their arrival, tensions between them finally broke into open grumbling.

"We're wasting our time here," Regin said with aggravation, turning away from a window which overlooked Asgard. "It's been a week already. We should just take the gold and go home."

Fafnir paced back and forth near the doorway, but turned aside for long enough to throw a scoff in his brother's direction. "You are obsessed with the small details and forgetting the big picture," he accused. "What need has our father for more gold?"

"What need has he for silver?" Regin grumbled. "Even if Ashura manages to gather a tribute, which I don't think he can. We're not accomplishing anything here, we're just wasting their time and ours."

"It's not about the silver either," Fafnir scoffed. "It's about taking the Aesir down a peg. These arrogant dullards have been throwing their weight around for years, lording over everyone else as though they owned the universe and merely deigned for us lesser folks to live in their backyard. Now we have a chance to hold their feet to the fire for a change, and I intend to make the most of it."

"Taking them down a peg," Regin echoed. "The two of us, against the whole of Asgard. I don't know about you, but I don't like those odds."

Fafnir threw a drinking cup at his brother, which Regin batted aside with a scowl. "Hark at you, gutless wonder," he taunted. "We hold the advantage. They can't do a thing to us and they know it. If we listened to your advice, we'd spend our entire lives at home never stirring from the hall."

Regin sighed. "I'd like to be home in the hall right now," he said wistfully, "rather than trapped in here with the likes of the All-Father and the Stormcaller - to say nothing of those tricksters, either. I don't like it, brother."

"That's because you're an idiot," Fafnir snapped at him. "Of course you would be obliterated in a moment in a battle of wits. But not all of us come unarmed to the arena of the mind! I can more than handle any foolishly transparent ploys that ergi coward tries to spring on us."

"I know I'm not as clever as you," Regin said, "but there's no need to be cruel."

"There's no need to be a wet week and sit around here stinking up the room with your moans," Fafnir said, "yet you do it anyway. Get out of my sight for an hour. I need to think."

Regin did not reply to that, only shook his head and departed in the opposite direction. Fafnir reveled in the solitude for a while longer, but he found that the guest room was too dull and quiet when empty; the servants all now avoided this wing like the plague, so there were none of them even to torment. He was just about to leave - perhaps follow his brother down to the hall to soak up some free drinks - when he became aware of a slender gray shadow dogging his footsteps.

He let his pace slow, keeping his shadow in the corner of his eye, although he did not turn to face him. "It's about time," he said with a chuckle. "I wondered when you would show up."

"So you are Hreidmar's son," the voice came from behind him. "My brother told me about you."

Fafnir turned around, giving a gloating smirk. "Well, well," he said. "So the hrimthurs runt finally decided to come out of the shadows. Not hiding behind your wish-father's... skirts?"

The gray-cloaked figure pushed off from the walls, and slid the hood back over pale hair. A pair of ferocious yellow eyes glared at him from a delicate face set angry and cold. "You would insult King Ashura in his very court?" he said, voice soft and dangerous. "I can't decide whether you're bold, or stupid."

Fafnir laughed. "Have I not reason to be bold?" he said mockingly. "With my father's power, what have I to fear from that mad old man and his pack of weak-blooded mongrels?"

"You are as poor a guest as your father is rumored to be a host," Yuui stated coldly. "Also, you're not subtle, you know. I know what you're trying to do."

Fafnir smiled condescendingly. "Oh? And what am I trying to do?" he said, his voice sweet with false innocence.

"You demanded a ransom that you know Asgard cannot repay," Yuui said. "You seek to force the All-Father's hand to give you Fai's life in exchange."

"Oh, and here I'd heard you were the stupid one," Fafnir sneered.

"You shouldn't believe everything that you hear," Yuui said coolly. "Appearances can be deceiving."

"I am well within my rights," Fafnir defended himself. "If the King of Asgard cannot pay the ransom for my brother's murder, all the realms will mark his lack of honor. And I will muster an army to tear down the walls of Asgard stone by stone, and put all of its inhabitants to the sword."

"He'll never do it," Yuui snapped. "It doesn't matter who your father is, or how many brigands you can bring to bear. All you will accomplish is making a pest of yourself, and causing the deaths of countless innocents who never sought to be involved -" He cut himself off, then took a measured breath. "I have an alternative for you."

Fafnir snorted. "I can't imagine what you could possibly have to offer me that would sway me from my course, Liesmith," he said.

"You will once you hear it." Yuui's head tilted to the side. "My brother's life and mine have been intertwined since the hour we were born. No other has more right to pledge it than I do. I propose a wager."

"Oh?" Fafnir affected a casual air, trying to hide the way his interest pricked. If he waited King Ashura out, there was always the possibility that he would manage to scrape together enough silver to pay the ransom. "What manner of wager?"

"Let us play a small game of dice," Yuui answered. "A little bit of luck, a little bit of skill. If I win, you will rescind all claims to wergild and leave Ashura's court immediately."

"Hardly tempting," Fafnir scoffed. "And if I win?"

Yuui's eyes darted to the side slightly, and he licked his lips nervously. "Then you can name your prize."

Fafnir paused, and slowly a wide smirk spread across his face. "The son of Ashura is generous indeed," he purred. "Very well. I accept your wager."

Yuui's hands moved towards a pouch at his belt, and Fafnir flung up a warding hand. "On one condition - how can I trust anything that has been in your hands, Liesmith? We will use my dice to play this game."

Yuui's face became shuttered, thoughts racing. In the end, his head dipped slightly forward. "Very well," he said. "Do you carry them with you?"

"In my chambers," Fafnir said, and turned to gesture Yuui ahead of him with an extravagant, mocking bow. "I'm sure you know the way, oh great prince."

Yuui shot Fafnir a look of dislike, then set off ahead of him.

Once back in the guest chambers, Fafnir took out an old leather package; inside it, a pair of weathered dice rattled inside a hollow bone cup. "I see no need to drag this out," he said. "We shall play meia, the two-man liar's dice."

Yuui's eyebrows went up, as if impressed by his audacity. "You would seek such a challenge against the Liesmith?" he scoffed.

Fafnir grinned as he swept his arm across the table, sending crockery and goods smashing to the floor below with a clatter. "Shall we begin?" he said.

Yuui sat across the table from him, his muscles tense as his eyes fixated on the dice. Liar's dice was a game where the opponents took turns rolling the dice in the cup, then clapping them hidden on the table. The roller could peek at his dice and call a score, which the opponent could either accept, or call liar. If a liar was successfully caught in this manner, the game would start over again. Then the cup and the dice changed hands. The dice would pass back and forth in this manner, and the score would have to become higher with every turn - once the upper limit was reached, the game was over.

Yuui made a gesture for Fafnir to begin. "Shall we?" he said.

Fafnir rolled the dice in his hand, savoring the feel of it. He was an accomplished hand at meia, and a part of him savored the challenge of playing against such a challenging opponent as Yuui Liesmith. Only a part, of course. The rest of him had absolutely no intention of losing. He swirled the cup dramatically, and clapped it on the table with the sound of thunder. "Three and two," he announced, after a glance at the table.

Yuui did not challenge him, which was to be expected; there was no gain to do so this early, when the score was so low. Only later on, when the score mounted ever higher and the pressure increased - both to lie, and to call out a liar - would it truly become a test of will. The hrimthurs only held out his hand for the cup. The dice rattled. "Five and four," he said. "Why is it that you are so determined to kill my brother?"

"Six and three," Fafnir announced on his next turn, watching Yuui closely. "Because he killed mine, of course."

"As I recall, it was not his hand that struck the final blow," Yuui pointed out. "I suppose I am simply too charming and handsome to kill. One and one."

"Liar," Fafnir called out sharply, and Yuui pulled back the cup to reveal and four and a one - among the lowest possible scores. Yuui shrugged sheepishly; he was down by one point, but the game was only beginning; now the score would reset. "Don't flatter yourself. I would gladly take your head too, if I could; but it is the Silvertongue I truly loathe. Four and three."

"Why?" Yuui asked. "Six and five."

"Because he used trickery to bring my brother low," Fafnir snarled hatefully, slamming the cup back on the table with nearly enough force to crack it. "Neither you nor any of those Aesir pups would have had a chance against him, in sorcery and combat. It took a veil of the foulest lies and the betrayal of a sacred flag of truce to get past his guard. I swore on my father's name that the coward would pay for his deceit with his life!"

After a moment, he remembered to glance at his score, and his eyes gleamed as he did so. "Five and five," he said. Doubles were the highest scoring combination in the game, the lower the better; Yuui would be hard-pressed to match it.

Yuui took the dice back without visible expression. "Your sense of vengeance is strangely misguided," he said in a soft voice. "Two and two."

Fafnir studied him narrowly, but could detect no lie in his manner. He took the dice back without comment. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it, don't you see," he told him, and clapped the cup on the table. "The other half of my vengeance will be watching the hope die in your eyes, when I take your brother's head before you and you can do nothing."

They locked eyes for a long moment, a silent battle of wills, which Fafnir broke at last when he glanced down at the dice in his hand. A slow, gloating smirk passed over his face as he did so. "Meia," he proclaimed.

Fafnir watched with great enjoyment as Yuui's face went stark white, a few faint stray freckles standing out like beacons against his bloodless skin. Meia was the score of two and one, the highest in the game; it was a score that could not be beaten. If Fafnir was telling the truth and his cup hid meia, then the game was over - and Fafnir would have won.

He swallowed, and looked up into his enemy's face, desperation and panic writ clear in his features. "Will you not be persuaded to take the All-Father's wergild, instead?" he pleaded.

"Nay," Fafnir drawled, savoring the look of hopelessness on Yuui's face as he did. "I renounce all claim to the King of Asgard's riches, for whatever musty pile of rot they're worth. I will have my promised wager, or I will have your lying tongue!"

Yuui's mouth opened, then shut again without a sound as his head dropped and his shoulders hunched. "Liar," he whispered.

Slowly, dramatically, savoring every second of his victory, Fafnir drew back the horn cup. The dice stared up at them balefully, just as Fafnir had set them down: a one and a two.

Yuui stared down at the table, disbelievingly. Fafnir rose to tower over him. "No more games, Liesmith," he proclaimed. "I claim my prize. I claim my right to the head, the neck, and the blood of Fai Silvertongue, to be mine over any other treasure of the realm!"

Yuui's head came up, and a bright silly smile settled over his features - shining reflected in his eyes. His silver eyes. "Well, I guess it's yours, then!" he chirped. "Of course, you'll need to go and get it."

"What?" Fafnir stared in confusion, hand arrested in mid-motion as it groped for the hilt of his axe.

Yuui - no, this was not Yuui, it was the Silvertongue himself - laughed merrily. "Well, the last time I saw it, it was in the possession of some trolls of Nidvallir," he said cheekily. "I'm sure if you ask very nicely, they'd hand it over. But until then - well, I guess your business in Asgard is finished! Since you renounced your ransom and all."

"What lunacy are you spouting?" Fafnir demanded.

Fai danced to a stop, his hands clasped beneath his chin and his eyes glowing. "Why, Fafnir, I thought you knew this story," he purred. "Certainly everyone else knew it. How my brother and I were caught by wicked trolls in the Downward Fields years ago, and my body then torn to shreds. By my brother's great art, my spirit was preserved - but I'm afraid my head, neck, and blood are no longer on hand to give to you. Sorry, Fafnir, but it seems that your prince is in another castle."

"What?" Fafnir screeched. He lunged over the table, hands twisting into claws as his hated enemy appeared before him - only to swing at air, as Fai danced laughing out of reach.

"Careful, there!" Fai admonished, as he spun deftly away. "You were very specific, you know. The head of Yuui Liesmith was not part of the wager, so you have no right to it. Really, son of Hreidmar? Weighted dice? Was that really the greatest heights your ingenuity could muster? You are very like your brother, you know - you both think you're much smarter than you really are." He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chin. "Well, were, in his case."

"You tricked me!" Fafnir roared.

Fai looked at him like he was an idiot. "Well, yes," he said. "Really, I don't know what you were hoping for, getting into a wager with a trickster. What is that saying they have on Midgard - 'Fool you once, shame on me, fool you twice, shame on you?' "

Fafnir lunged towards his enemy, only to have Fai leap back out of reach after all. The blond man darted towards the door and Fafnir, too enraged for rational thought, gave chase.

The golden halls of Asgard blurred in the blood-reddened edges of his vision as Fafnir pursued his quarry through one corridor after another. He paid no mind to where he was going as he saw the edge of Fai's blue cape slip through a swiftly closing door ahead of them and dove after him, slamming the doors open with a booming thud that seemed hardly louder than the pounding of his heart. There stood Fai, posed with his hands clasped artfully before him.

"Got you, bitch-wolf's pup!" Fafnir roared, and drove forward with a punch that would drive straight through his enemy's skull -

Only to stumble forward, arms flailing wildly off-balance as his fist met nothing but air. He passed harmlessly through the illusion and staggered to a halt on the other side of it. His head whipped from side to side, searching for his enemy, and he froze.

He was in the great throne room of Asgard. Fai stood a little way away, by the edge of the dais. And arrayed around him was every one of Ashura Allfather's fiercest warriors.

---------

When the enraged Fafnir aimed what was obviously a killing blow at the illusory Fai, Kurogane started forward with his hand on Ginryuu's haft, ready to chastise him for his audacity in striking a prince of Asgard. But Fuuma's hand on his arm held him back, his brother giving a flick of his eyes and a small nod over to their father. Who did not look nearly as surprised by this as he ought to.

"Violence against one of your hosts, Fafnir?" Ashura said in a mild tone. Standing by his left hand, Fai had doubled over in silent laughter. "A breach of manners I would not have expected from the son of Hreidmar."

"King Ashura - I - " Fafnir stammered, groping around for some excuse. "That - I was provoked. That cowardly cur -"

"Watch your tongue, you stinking toadstool," Kurogane growled, unable to help himself; Ashura's eyes flicked in his direction, but he did not chastise him for the rudeness towards a guest. No, their dwarven guests had not made themselves popular in their stay.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty," Fai spoke up with a gasp, standing straight and dashing tears of mirth from his eyes. "Let us be charitable. There is no need for all this stern disapproval. Our honored guest was merely incensed momentarily by a poor roll of the dice - I am sure that when his wits return to him, he will be properly remorseful."

"Is this true, Fafnir Hreidmarsson?" Ashura asked deliberately.

Fafnir stood, clenching his fists and breathing heavily, but he knew as well as Ashura did the consequences of breaking guest-troth. "Of course, King Ashura," he muttered. "Whatever you say."

"In fact," Fai said brightly, "we have much reason to celebrate our guest! In his unfathomable generosity, Fafnir has agreed to forfeit the blood-debt owed to he and his family by the crown of Asgard. Isn't that nice of him?"

Ashura's eyebrows went up. "Uncommonly charitable," he agreed blandly.

"Your Majesty, that is a filthy lie," Fafnir sputtered. "That frost giant is a known liar - he tricked me into saying - I never renounced our wergild! Not for one second."

"You seem to be somewhat confused, friend," Fuuma advised him courteously. "Did he trick you into saying it, or did you not say it at all? It can only be one."

"You have no witnesses to say that I did!" Fafnir snarled. "I'll not be led in a dance by any sickly runted giant's kin, nor bullied by you lot of Aesir -"

Ashura stood, and Fafnir fell silent and shrank before him. A dark shadow seemed to grow about him like a sable cloak, cast by the trees above him and reflected by the water below. Only the twisted crown at his brow shone with its own eerie light. "From the high seat at Hlidskjalf I can see many things of this realm," he informed the cowering dwarf coldly. "Not a quarter of an hour passed, I clearly heard it fall from your lips that you renounced all claims upon the riches of Asgard. Have a care whom you call a liar in my hall!

"Your business with us is concluded; you willingly forfeited your payment," Ashura concluded, and the shadow withdrew slightly as he took his seat once more. "And you have also worn out your welcome. Take your brother and leave this hall by nightfall, Hreidmar's son, or else I may owe yet another bounty to your father."

Shocked pale, looking almost shrunken in his skin, Fafnir stumbled from the hall, escorted by two of Ashura's guards to make sure that he actually went to his quarters and nowhere else. Kurogane eyed his departing form with some disappointment; he would have liked a chance to let off some steam on the whoreson's skin.

The Aesir relaxed as their unwanted guest cleared out, and then a murmur of pleased approval started up as all heads turned to Fai. "Well done, Silvertongue," Kendappa said approvingly, and considering her usual opinion of Fai's tricks, that was praise indeed. "How did you manage it?"

Fai grinned and winked, drinking up the attention like a sponge. "A wager," he said. "After all, the fastest way to convince a man to give up a prize is to convince him that he's about to get a better one."

"So you gambled with him and won?" Fuuma wanted to know.

Fai laughed aloud. "No. I lost!" he said merrily. "The wager itself was irrelevant. But he was so fixated upon winning that he failed to see…" Fai's words slurred, and he blinked rapidly and shook his head. "Failed to see what was…"

In the middle of a sentence Fai suddenly stuttered to a stop, his hand arrested mid-motion. His face blanked of all expression, and in his open eyes Kurogane saw the bright quicksilver color dim, shred, and then dissolve all at once like a pane of frost.

"Fai?" someone asked him worriedly. The blond looked blankly towards the sound, then shuddered- and it was the shudder that Kurogane recognized.

Fai was gone. Yuui stood before them now - but in all the long years Kurogane had known the twins, they had never, ever allowed their transformation to be witnessed in front of so many people.

Something was wrong.

Yuui stood in the middle of the ring of warriors, stunned and bereft, and something was so wrong.

"No…" Yuui breathed, and his expression twisted with grief and horror. Kurogane had known Yuui all his life, and he had never seen such a look of devastation on him. "He can't. He promised."

His golden eyes filmed over with a silver sheen, and for a moment Kurogane thought wildly that the two brothers were fighting for possession of their shared body, that they would tear each other apart in this unnatural struggle for dominance.

And then the tears began to spill.

"Yuui?" Kurogane started forward, meaning to take hold of him - whether to offer support for his evident grief, or to shake some answers out of him, he did not know. Either way he never got the chance; the moment he began to move Yuui flinched away from him and fled for the doorway.

"Yuui!" Kurogane yelled, and this time he did give chase. But Yuui was as fleet of foot as Fai, and he had a head start; he reached the doors of his chambers and slammed them shut almost in Kurogane's face.

Kurogane slammed his fist against the door, frustrated. He wanted to take Ginryuu and break down the door, drag Yuui out and demand answers - but even Kurogane was not that cruel.

"Is he all right?" Kendappa's voice came from behind him, and Kurogane straightened and slowly turned to face his friend.

"Apparently not," Kurogane said.

Kendappa's dark eyes were sharp. "Do you have any idea what in Hel that was about?"

"No," Kurogane growled. He looked back at the door. "But whatever it is, it's serious."

She nodded, a worried hmm in her throat. "This has been going on for a while, hasn't it," she said softly, following his gaze to the stubbornly closed door. "Ever since we got back from that trip from Jotunheim."

Kurogane shook his head. "I think it's been going on for much longer than that."

---------

Do not do this. Do not leave me. After all we have been through, after all the struggles that have brought us here - you don't want to let those savage dogs in Nidavallir win, do you? This is so like you! Something gets the tiniest bit hard, and you just give up and run away! And leave me to pick up the pieces as always, th**##&e#*##*&#lp#&&##a*###

Tell me what I can do to fix this. Tell me what you want and it will be yours. The sun, the moon, the stars, the hand of Ku Freya - anything. Just tell me what to do and I will do it. Just don't fade any longer, don't go away.

I miss you.

I love you.

I need you.

please, please do not leave me here alone

Dearest brother, my beloved brother, my fondest Yuui,

I have never loved anyone more truly than I love you, my brother, but that does not change this. Can not change this. You cannot stop autumn from turning into winter, nor day from turning into night. I am tired. Each waking hour presses on me like a greater weight, and I spent more and more time each day in slumber (no matter how much you might wear my guise to pretend otherwise to the court, you brat.)

You would bring me anything, but there is nothing in this world that I desire more than rest.

You would do anything for me except the one thing I most wish from you: to let me go.

I tire of haunting your halls like a guest that has long overstayed his welcome, every day draining you of your life and your time. I do not regret what we did that day on Nidavellir, and I am glad of the years we had since then, but my years are done.

(Besides, you will not be alone. You will have your lovely stormy puppy, if only you get over yourself for long enough to ask.)

Be well, my brother.

Goodbye.

Fai


---------

Duty eventually called Kurogane away, but worry kept bringing him back to the hallway outside Fai and Yuui's door. His sense of unease grew throughout the afternoon, and his foreboding was echoed by the gradually thickening clouds, the darkening sky.

As Kurogane circled back to check on the twins' room one more time, he heard a distant crash echoing through the corridors and quickened his pace. The door that had stood so stolidly against him was open, swinging into the corridor, but Yuui was already gone.

Kurogane hesitated for a moment, hearing the distant echoes of footsteps vanishing in the distance. If it were Yuui, he'd most likely gone to the library for comfort; if it were Fai, out to the gardens he so loved. He knew he ought to follow, but some strange instinct drew him through the open door, instead.

The twins' chambers were a wreck, furniture upended and bedding flung haphazardly onto the floor. The bed looked like it had been stabbed with a blade, wisps of hay and feathers drifting out from the punctured bedding… no, that fragment of whiteness there wasn't a feather - it was a scrap of paper.

Kurogane gathered it up, then glanced around to find more shredded scraps and half-pages floating around the room. A leather-bound book fluttered open and half-destroyed on the writing desk, most of its pages ripped out and flung about in a rage. He picked up a few nearby shreds of paper and read them.

… almost got squashed like a bug! I would never forgive the Fates if the youngest prince got filleted on our watch…

…perhaps work just a little bit more on your combat skills. But those minor considerations aside…

The fragments made no sense, but Kurogane recognized the handwriting - it was the same as on the note that had summoned him to the library endless days ago. Yuui's handwriting?

Kurogane picked up another piece of note, this one written in a neater hand, the letters tightly grouped and slanting.

…excited, so many interesting people are coming. Did you hear, the sons of Hreidmar will be in attendance…

It could only be Fai's. Understanding dawned on Kurogane - this volume had been a strange sort of diary, a collection of letters that the brothers would write and leave for each other to read. But why would the twins - whichever one of them it was - destroy what was so obviously a valuable and beloved possession?

Most of the pages were nearly whole, but it seemed as though the last few pages in the book had been torn apart with great fury. Kurogane hunted through the chamber for the stray scraps of paper, and with a patience he never would have guessed he had, pieced it together.

Read the last letter, from Fai to his brother.

And then the door slammed behind him in turn as he strode out after Yuui, the ripped pages once again scattering in his wake.

---------

He found Yuui in the gardens after all; with the threatening rain, most of the Aesir had retired inside, and the lush green space was unusually empty. As he watched, Yuui staggered a few short steps, from a garden bench to the trunk of a large curling ash tree, and then collapsed at its base. He huddled into himself, knees drawn up to his chest and fingers clutching at bright hair, rocking back and forth as though to some unheard lullaby.

Kurogane started forward, then hesitated. He'd come after Yuui after reading Fai's farewell note because he was afraid of what the twins might do to themselves - either of them. But what could he do to help? He was no mage, only a warrior; and while he had brothers aplenty, he couldn't fathom being so tightly attached to any of them that their departure should wound him so. Fai and Yuui had always been thus, Kurogane had heard, even before their disastrous trip to Nidavellir - two trees growing twined around each other, two lives in the shape of one.

But now one of them was dying, and what would become of the other?

"Yuui?" he called hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

There was no response, and he moved closer. Yuui's white-knuckled hands gripped sections of his pale hair, threatening to tear it from his head; his face was lined and hollowed, and his eyes dry. It would have almost been more reassuring if he had been weeping.

"He promised," Yuui gasped, not focusing on or even looking up at Kurogane. "He promised he wouldn't leave me alone… I won't let…" He bit his lip white and bloodless, and hunched over even further into himself; a pale film of silver washed over his eyes, then away.

Kurogane hesitated, alarmed and disturbed. This was magic; this was also a man tearing himself apart from the inside. Should -

A dark figure reared suddenly up from nowhere in the corner of Kurogane's vision. He tensed and began to turn, but before he could move a heavy weight slammed into the side of his head. He reeled, stunned, and went to one knee in the garden dirt beside Yuui. It seemed like he was moving through molasses as he turned to face his attacker. His hand groped uselessly for Ginryuu's handle. He had not brought her into the gardens with him; he called to her now, but she was still too far away…

It was Fafnir, huge and dark and looming against the cloud-scudded sky behind him. The shine of metal in his hand resolved itself to a large and wicked-looking axe, its edge already crusted with gore. The guards, Kurogane remembered with dread.

"You - murderer," he spat, even as he struggled to regain his bearings after the blow. "You would the bonds of hospitality, you would dare to raise your hands against the princes of Aesir?"

"I will have the head of my brother's killer," Fafnir hissed, his eyes red and face wild with madness. "And the deceiver along with him, too. And you - you cannot stop me, and I will throw your head along with his into the pits for the dogs to feast on!"

He raised his axe in both hands and swung it, and the wicked edge hummed and roared as it sliced through the air towards his and Fai's necks. Kurogane lashed out and his booted foot caught Fafnir on the knee - enough to jolt him and turn his blade astray. It whistled harmlessly over Yuui's head, coming close enough to graze off locks of his hair.

Or - not harmlessly, it seemed; Yuui went suddenly rigid, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Even as he did so, the tree behind them groaned and toppled, a diagonal slice running through the entire trunk where the blade had passed through it. Kurogane remember with a sudden cold terror that this was the accursed blade Gram, forged with Hreidmar's black sorceries; it was said to be so sharp it could cut a man's soul from its body without leaving a mark. Kurogane had always put that down to legend and rumor, but the way all color left Yuui's face and he fell upon the ground -

Another noise cut through the fray, and Kurogane's heart leapt at the familiar sound - he held out his hand and Ginryuu came to it, fitting joyfully to his hand and humming at the prospect of a fight. "Enough of your trespass," he snarled coldly to Fafnir, and raised the hammer - Giant's bane, basher of trolls, undefeated in combat - into the air. "Die."

The roar of thunder rolled out across the garden, punctuated by the clash of metal on metal. The ensorcelled blade could cut through an anvil with ease, but could not cut through the steel of Ginryuu. Fafnir was maddened with battle, and his rage drove him, but he still could not match Kurogane's strength.

Kurogane raised Ginryuu to the sky and called the lightning; it struck with a mighty crack and imbued the hammer with its primal power. Fafnir stumbled back, face twisting with rage and the tiniest sliver of fear. Kurogane stepped grimly forward; he did not bother to ask for surrender. For breaking the guest-bond and committing murder among his hosts, the punishment was only death; it mattered little whether King Ashura pronounced the sentence, or Kurogane carried it out.

Fafnir stumbled back, his breathing heavy and his face purple with rage. "I hear," he wheezed, "that you enjoy the challenge of fighting wyrms, Prince Kurogane. I would hate… to deprive you of such a challenge…"

Kurogane started forward, but even as he moved it was too late - Fafnir's form twisted and writhed, his back arching as his voice escaped him in a choked hiss. The air reeked with the charnel smell of burning flesh and the bitter tang of witchcraft, and then -

The dark form burst upwards, uncurling and unfurling as it did so; scaly black loops filled the garden and overflowed, crushing beds of flowers and ripping trees from their moorings as it did so. Kurogane's eyes widened as the dragon reared up above him, swept-back horns surrounding its long, serpentine face and a mouth full of wicked, dagger-sharp teeth each as long as his hand. The only thing about that face that had not changed were Fafnir's eyes, burning coals of malice and spite.

"Hikogeki!" Kurogane cried out, and launched the lightning. But the beast's armor-plated chest defeated him; the powerful blow was absorbed without visible effect into the overlapping scale plates and powerful bulking muscles of his chest. The dragon's wings snapped open, rising higher than the houses on either side, and its deadly jaws spread open in a bellowing laugh.

Fire bloomed from that open maw; faster than thinking Kurogane brought Ginruu around in a whirling arc that kicked up a fierce and deadly gale in its wake. The fire split around him, streaming harmlessly to one side and flickering out - but the deadly breath was broader than Kurogane could counter, and flames leapt to live among the wood and brush of the gardens.

Fafnir aimed another stream of infernal breath, this time not at Kurogane, but at Yuui. Kurogane dove forward and flung his arm around Yuui's shoulders, dragging him out of the searing path of the flame which cut a broad black swath behind it. The dragon bellowed in triumph and leapt for the sky, wings clapping mightily as he ascended to a height from which he could sear all below.

Kurogane cursed Fafnir fervently in his mind, even as he thrust his hammer skywards and willed all the power along it that he could. There was no way the others could have missed the tumult in the garden; they would be here soon, but at this rate Fafnir would burn down all of Asgard before they could defeat him. It was hard enough to fight a dragon in the open, let alone in this cramped and vulnerable garden. Let alone while trying to protect Yuui.

He had always had command over the storm, but in the heat of battle he usually only called the lightning. He called rain now, a fierce and cold downpour to battle the heat of Fafnir's flames and hide them in a veil of concealing fog. The rain slammed down in a grey sheet, and the fires guttered, but did not go out; brown smoke and steam rose up in great hissing clouds.

Kurogane carefully deposited Fai's limp unmoving body in a small hollow, and moved rapidly away as he tracked the dragon's movements by the slow and heavy flap of his wings. Fafnir could not dare to fly too high, while Kurogane commanded the air - or else Kurogane could seize him in a squall that would dash him against the unforgiving mountainside like a fish against a rock. But neither could Kurogane kill him; his armored chestplates shrugged off Kurogane's lightning blows like they were nothing…

A sudden thought seized him, and Kurogane strode to an open patch of ground, burned to char by Fafnir's breath and still sizzling under the pouring rain. He summoned a gust of wind that cleared the smoke, enough to reveal him. "Fafnir!" he called out, brandishing his hammer to the sky. "I am here! Come and strike me, if you are no coward!"

Through the thinning rain and smoke he could see the dragon's bulk turn in the air, see the long serpentine neck gliding around as the dragon banked and came for him. Those black jaws opened in a murderous grin, the fire hissing in his throat…

Kurogane unleashed the lightning - and Fafnir swerved to avoid it, a rumble of laughter in his broad chest as the bolt shot harmlessly over his shoulder. But that was exactly where Kurogane had aimed it, and in the same instant that he fired the deadly energy away from him, he also called it. "Tenma-ku ryuusen!"

The blast of lightning curved in the air, avoiding the heavy plated armor of Fafnir's front, and struck him in the back with all of heaven's fury. The dragon bellowed in surprise and agony, crashing to the ground, limbs and wings and tail flailing and tearing through vegetation as they went.

Kurogane leapt to avoid the slashing wings, landing on the broad back just above the charred and smoking hole where his blast had hit. Fafnir shrieked and flailed, all his deadly talons and fire breath useless to him when his enemy had gained his back. Kurogane took a deep breath, raised Ginryuu -

And brought the lightning down.

A little later, as the rain abated and the last of the fires died down, Kurogane found Yuui in the wreck of the garden. Much to his relief, the blond man was sitting up and moving, his eyes open - his gold eyes, Kurogane saw with a selfish relief.

He was kneeling over a plant that hadn't been there an hour ago, his hands cupped under its fragile leaves. Kurogane frowned as he looked the little sapling over; it looked like an elm tree, like those that grew behind Ashura's throne, but there was a shimmer to its leaves that could not be explained by the sheen of the recent rain.

The silver light of the tree lit Yuui's face from below, the storm of anguish from earlier now calmed into a grieved acceptance.

There was probably something soothing Kurogane could have said, something that would have eased Yuui's grief and brought him comfort; but he was Kurogane Stormcaller, not particularly skilled with words, and so what actually emerged was, "Is your brother a tree now?"

Yuui glanced up at him, and Kurogane frankly would not have been surprised to see a storm of resentment in his face; but instead he was calm. "His spirit was severed from me," he said, his voice strained and cracked from the soul-deep scream that had been lost under the cover of the storm. "The binding was undone, although I could never have loosed it myself. The spirit of the great elm that was slain wished to be reborn, and I… this was all I could do."

Kurogane walked over and sat down next to him, letting Ginryuu dangle limply from his hand. He was exhausted, and he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take to remove all the chunks of incinerated dragon from their garden. Hopefully not as long as it would take the elm tree to grow again. He cleared his throat.

"So is he ever going to come back?" Kurogane prompted him gruffly. "Your brother, I mean."

"I didn't think you meant Fafnir," Yuui scorned, then relented. "…I don't know. Maybe. The life-force of the tree will sustain him - he said he was tired, you know, before the end. My body wasn't good enough to house the both of us, not for so long. Maybe - maybe he'll be able to rest here, gather his strength…"

"I know," Kurogane admitted. "I read his letters. His letter to you. And yours to him."

He half-expected Yuui to tear into him for that, but the blond man only blinked, tears pooling slowly in his golden eyes. He lowered his head to gaze at the shining silver tree, and said nothing.

Kurogane shifted around, shuffling closer while trying to make it look casually. Carefully, as if approaching a wounded beast, he edged close enough to Yuui until he could brush their shoulders together. "You're not alone, you know," he said quietly. "He was not the only one who loves you."

At last Kurogane saw it, what he'd been looking for - the watery smile through the tears, like the sun breaking through tattered clouds. It wasn't strong or steady, but it was real. "Thank you," he whispered. He leaned against Kurogane's side, let his forehead thump down on Kurogane's shoulder. "Prince Grumphound."

Kurogane chuckled - not only to appease Yuui - and raised his left arm to drape over Yuui's shoulders. There they sat, in the ravaged and ruined garden, while all about them the white plumes of smoke swirled upwards into the limitless sky.

~the end.


---------
 

Notes: I now know far more about Viking clothing, hospitality customs, and gambling pastimes than I ever thought I'd need. >_<

Those of you who are familiar with some Norse myths may recognize a few of their common themes in here, though rather put through the blender. But the central one of this story was the death of Ótr and his wergild.

Ótr was a shapeshifting dwarf who was hanging out in a mountain stream one day in the form of an otter, as one does, when a party of passing Aesir consisting of Odin, Loki and Thor stopped for lunch. Odin told Thor to fetch wood and Loki to hunt some food; Loki happened upon the disguised Ótr and killed him, skinned him and had him with a nice chianti.

That evening, as the Aesir were looking for a place to stay that night, they happened upon the fastness of Hreidmar, dwarven king who was also the master of the black arts. The Aesir called upon them for hospitality, and offered to share the food they had hunted that day, showing the skin of the otter they had slain as proof. Whoops!

Ótr's father and his brothers - Fafnir and Regin - demanded wergild for Ótr's death. The ransom was to be that they would fill the otter's skin with red gold, then cover it with yellow gold until it was completely hidden from sight. Odin did so, but Fafnir claimed that more gold was needed since he could still see one of Ótr's whiskers. Loki chipped in the final piece of gold with Andvaranaut, a golden ring which he had stolen from Andvari and which Andvari had cursed to bring destruction to whoever held it. Thus making this legend an impressive triple play of dick moves for Loki: stealing a ring, killing a guy, and then using the cursed ring he stole to pay off the family of the guy he killed. I mean even for Loki that's got to be some kind of record.

At any rate, the curse quickly kicked in to cause strife amongst Hreidmar's sons; Fafnir killed his father, stole the ring, and then turned himself into a dragon to drive Regin away so that he could keep the ring for himself. So, yeah, that's going to be an awkward Thanksgiving.

The Norse hero Sigund killed the dragon Fafnir later with the sword (not axe) Gram. So the moral of the story is: don't let greed overcome your better sense, or you'll turn into a dragon and kill your family. Also, don't eat otters.