As some of you are away this story started in 2015 and stopped being updated in2016. For a long time I have wanted to carry on with this Fic, however I was ashamed by the poor quality of my writing. The solution I found? Rewriting the entire fucking thing. Which is annoying and time consuming but I feel it is the right decision.

People to this day ask me to update this, so I hope this is okay. I know I'm starting again from the begining but I feel this time I can tell the story in my heart much better.

Characters names have changed as the politics and geography of Jotunheimr have been planned out to a much better standard. (I drew a fucking map) so I hope you enjoy this chapter. Expect the next one in a couple of days.

Thank you,

Lyna x

Frozen flakes swirled violently in the air as howling winds swept across the frozen realm, through the ruins of city. Corpses littered the streets; men, women and children slain as if they were no more than cattle. In the eyes of the Aesir the Jotnar were lower than cattle.

Those that had avoided the Asgardians' blades were huddled together, hiding in the shadows of fallen walls. Tattered strips of cloth stuffed inside children's mouths to keep them silent. Panicked crimson eyes scanned the horizon for the foreign army returning from the palace.

One lone figure braved the streets, hooded cloak over her head; blood stained the hem that dragged through the carnage. Her left leg a dead weight behind her as she tried to run. Her breath came out in pained gasps as she muttered prayers to her ancestors under her breath. In her bloodied arms she cradled a small bundle; a baby.

He too was covered in blood, barely hours old, small for a Jotun, born early. His cobalt blue skin wrinkled, creasing his kin lines. His mother limped her way out of the streets of the city, forcing her way up the steep hill on its outskirts.

Out here there was no protection from the elements; the fierce wind bit at her cloak, tugging at it, forcing her backwards, the babe in her arms awoke, his panicked cries drown out by the screams of his people as they were slaughtered by the invading army.

Farbauti clutched her son close to her breast; tears ran down her face, mixing with the blood, stinging the cuts on her kin lines.

"Hush Lítt Einn, Mama's here. All will be well, my little Loptr." She cooed.

On the top of the hill was a Temple, or at least what remained of it. The Bifrost had destroyed the roof, the spires had collapsed in on itself and a mixture ice and stone was now scattered on the floor.

Odin, the sick bastard, had destroyed it as soon as the Aesir came to Jötunheimr, a display of power, Farbauti presumed. If he was the benevolent king he pretended to be he would have left the Jotnar alone when they retreated from Midgard.

Hopefully he'd accept Laufey's surrender, Farbauti's husband knew invading Midgard had been a mistake; he only did it to try and acquire more territory for his overpopulated kingdom. Looking back down at the city Farbauti didn't think that would be a problem anymore.

The Queen crept into the remains of the Temple.

"Ymir, forgive us." She whispered, her eyes met those of the destroyed statue of their creator and bit back a sob, fresh tears prickled in her eyes, she squeezed Loptr again. "Protect us from the Aesir, I know Odin too, is your descendant, but please favour those who honour you, those who have ice flowing through their veins."

Farbauti walked up through the aisle of the Temple, towards the podium in the centre, where the Casket of Ancient Winters sat, the strength of a thousand winters swirling within the box. Farbauti rested her hand on the treasure, cradling Loptr in one arm.

The Queen sat on the front pew, one of only ones still standing and looked down at her son. He stopped crying almost immediately when their eyes met. He babbled up at his mother, eyes probably not seeing much further than the end of his nose, just sensing her presence. He reached out with chubby fingers. Farbauti took them in her own slim hand, kissing it softly.

"Your Father will deal with the nasty Aesir. You'll be safe here, my child." She cooed, Loptr smiled at the sound of her voice, clutching her fingers tighter in his pudgy grasp.

The moment, however, was shattered by the sound of footfalls outside. Farbauti froze, listening to the voices.

"I think she went this way, Heimdall," a gruff voice called.

"Tyr, leave her be. You heard what the All-Father said, she's heavily pregnant, she is no danger to us." Another replied. Farbauti scowled and stared down at Loptr. Kissing Ymir's kin line on her son's forehead she bent down and placed him under the pew.

"Exactly, we can rid that bastard Laufey of his whore of a mate and an heir in one foul swoop. Teach him what happens when you go against Asgard."

"Look around Tyr; I think Laufey will have learnt his lesson without killing his wife and child."

Farbauti growled quietly at the unseen attackers, speaking of her and her family in the way they did. They knew nothing of her family, nothing of the Jotnar. She brushed her fingers over Loptr's cheek and shushed him when he once more started to babble.

Her heart ached; she knew what she must do. It was the only chance the both of them had to survive.

"I do not wish to leave you, my son, not when there is so much danger in the world," Farbauti whispered. "I never wanted to do this," she laughed bitterly as tears continued to fall, "I fought so hard with you Father, made him promise he wouldn't force you to go through your Winter's Rite, I told him it was barbaric to leave a baby outside all night. That it proved nothing. But now it looks like I don't have a choice."

The footfalls grew closer as Heimdall continued to argue with Tyr on her right to live. She took one last look at her baby, before tearing her eyes away and standing. She walked to stand in front of the casket, to hide her child.

"I, Farbauti, of the Jökull Clan, call to my ancestors. Protect this child, Loptr, of the united Útgarðar and Jökull Clans, help him through his Winters Rite, and grant him the title Crown Prince. Ymir, bless this child of your blood." Farbauti whispered the prayer, finishing as the Aesir warriors entered the temple.

"Look who it is," the pale skinned Asgardian snarled.

"Tyr, leave it." The other replied. Farbauti glared at the pair. She rested her hands on her still swollen belly, as if Loptr had yet to be born. Heimdall's eyes softened.

"Tyr, the All-Father needs us, to defeat Laufey; this woman is nothing to either of us. Her death would bring you nothing."

"If it means nothing, then why do you care if I kill it or not?"

"There is a difference between deaths in War and the murder of an innocent woman."

"That is no woman, it's a monster."

"Tyr!"

Farbauti slipped her hand beneath her cloak, grasping the hilt of her dagger. It wasn't much compared to the Aesir blades but it was better than nothing, her Seidr weakened by the birth, she could not conjure a blade of ice. Whilst the two men were arguing she took several steps forwards, away from her babe.

Tyr unsheathed his blade and pointed at her. Dark blood stained the sword, and Farbauti didn't want to know how man of her Clan had been murdered. Behind her Loptr called out and the Queen knew she had to get the Aesir away from the Temple, away from her precious son.

She ran forwards, straight into Tyr, knocking the smaller man to the floor. Heimdall stepped backwards, out of her way. Tyr thrust his blade, up into Farbauti's stomach. The Giantess gasped in pain, she pulled her dagger from her sheath and slashed across Tyr's face.

The God of War let out a furious scream, pulling his sword from Farbauti's abdomen. She grabbed him by the collar and flung him away from the Temple, before running down the hill. Even more blood stained her cloak as it flowed steadily from her wound, but still she ran. Tyr and a reluctant Heimdall followed. Leaving behind a baby Jotun Prince, with nothing but a blanket to his name.