Loki & Angrbotha

by Una Dougal

Loki, who was Odin's son, fallen prince of Asgard and of Jotunheim, war criminal on Midgard, is returned to his ancestral home and meets his match in the Jotun war witch, Angrbotha. (Loosely based upon crossing Norse lore with Marvel movie verse.) {Essentially a Thor fic, though it is intended to take place after Avengers.}

1. Chapter 1

1.)

A crack of light grew gradually wider in his dark cell. The prisoner shifted on his bunk to watch the little crack of light as it lengthened almost imperceptibly. It had seemed to come from the wall next to the door, little surprise as that was where the hinges were; but as he watched the little filament he became aware that indeed the light rippled ever so gently, and that it hovered in the air within his cell. He gazed at it like one entranced; though throughout this it caused him to wince. His once-shining eyes had grown so accustomed to the depth of the gloom in his sunless cell.

Intrigued, the bone-sore, ragged prisoner sat up. It was more effort than he had thought it would be and it cost him dear. He silently sucked in air through his teeth, willing himself to be noiseless despite the pain. With leaden limbs, he watched and waited. Hopeless, he waited.

A noise outside this tomb of a cell seemed to boom in his ears, unaccustomed to sound as they had become since his trial. What was it? The guard passing, surely. Then it was gone, leaving a ringing in his ears. He could not even whisper to himself to ease the solitude, the silence. They had stolen his voice.

A chill seemed to creep into the cell, and he wondered at this. The bright crack in the air grew, though it cast no illumination. The chill emanated from it, and rime ice formed on the floor and ceiling. The faint glitter of ice crystals caught his eye and the sight was a welcome one, different as it was from the fathomless abyss – so frighteningly reminiscent of another emptiness he had once been lost to. The air in the cell seemed now to fluoresce and contain a faint but living light. He thought he caught the metallic tang of magic on the humming air. He breathed deep, for it had been a long, long time since he had smelled this, touched this.

"Jotunheim!" cried something deep in his memory, just before the vibration in the air changed and the crack of light exploded. Loki Laufeyson, criminal of Asgard, had only a moment's notice and the instinct to curl into a protective ball before the concussion took his consciousness and he was elsewhere.