InsaneJournal

Old Wounds (Tag: Harmonia)
The meeting with his family had been difficult, but it wasn't until he was alone that the true implications and inner turmoil began to settle into Tyr's mind. It wasn't just that Loki was free- free and once again able to extend his own special kind of havoc on the world. That alone, Tyr might have been able to deal with.

The Trickster's freedom, according to the prophecy, meant a step toward Ragnarok. Likely toward his death and the deaths of many he cared about. Midgard, Asgard, all of it destroyed, or so he'd heard through various vague retellings of the prophecy. Even so, Ty could have dealt with that as well.

What he was having difficulty finding accord with was the memories. Two sons had died, two more banished and a daughter as well, and Tyr's hand in all of it. Literally, in one case. For the sons of Loki and Sigyn, Tyr had long ago released himself of all blame. None of them could ever have predicted what happened, and in the end, Tyr firmly believed that it was probably for the best. Had the Aesir known, they would likely have suffered the same fate as the other three. True, they would be alive, but what kind of a life would it have been?

It was a question he sometimes asked himself when he thought of the friend he betrayed, a thought process he more often than not shied away from. There was still pain there, and with it a knowledge of how cold his brand of justice could be. No one liked looking their darker self in the eye, and Tyr had to on a daily basis, even if he didn't think on it directly. The loss of his hand was a constant reminder, both of his bravery and his cruelty.

Tyr reached down and absentmindedly picked at the grass as he gazed out across the hills. How long had it been since he'd sat on this particular hilltop, listening for the sounds of the Wolf? Fenrir was still far away from his position, and only by stretching out his mind could he actually hear the neverending sounds of the giant beast's struggles. Something that both relieved and pained him to hear.

The father was free. How long before he was forced to once again face the son? Tyr didn't know all the intricate details of the final battle even though he suspected there were those that did. Really, he didn't want to know. Regardless of what might have been said, he had little doubt that the two of them would see each other that last day. Perhaps then, at long last, the Wolf might release him of his anguish.

Tyr could not recall ever feeling quite as alone as he was now. There were none he could speak to of this, save perhaps his father, and Odin's advice all too often amounted to only more puzzlement. Tyr knew without being told that the Alfather had likely gone through his own soul-searching before coming to them with his decision. For that was what the meeting had amounted to: Odin telling them what had been and what would now be. What he wanted would be the way of things. As usual. His father feared and fought his own wyrd more than any other Tyr had known. He would be able to give no comfort to his son. Nor could anyone else. It was his lot to bear.