One Hundred Days
Written By: PetiteElefant
OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.
This fanfiction will make you cry, make you squee, and ,hopefully, make you laugh hysterically. It's a bit slow and sad in the beginning, but stick with me over the days and you will learn to adore it. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I only own Peyton and the secondary characters that will be introduced in the future. I do not own Marvel which means I don't own the characters from the movies Thor or The Avengers. Now let my tale commence.
Warnings: Post canon, OOC, and OCs.
Chapter I: Day One-Exile
-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen
My world was dark. My world was cold.
The air was heavy with the breath of my brothers. Night and day they would come and I was to serve my punishment in passive silence. All there was to drink was that of the spilt blood of my sins, and all there was to eat were the ripened fruits of my transgressions. When I was awake I saw them, when I was asleep I saw them. Consciousness was an unending nightmare, so I prayed for oblivion, when my body could no longer live for me, the scent of death lingering by my face.
My world was dark. My world was cold.
Then one day, after months my perpetual affliction, I awoke to the eyes of crimson as I had done for aeons. Those eyes of vermillion that belonged to my family,my family of blood, whom as an adversary they had handled red eyes of repugnance. I could not see, nor smell. But I could hear. I heard voices. "This is the last day. The last day of our betrayer." they said. "He'll be dead. He cannot live. Our mirth has finally ended."
But, dear reader, I did live. This is my story.
The golden halls glinted in the early sunlight as the grand palace doors swung open. The sounds of two distinct pairs of feet echoed down its aisle; the confident clod of forced pride; the haggard, defeated limp of the direst of suffering. Two guards held up the rear, their metal armour rattled as they marched in perfect unison. They passed several man and maidservants, wide-eyed with shock, whispering suspiciously amongst themselves. Entering the Main Hall, he waved everyone away, keeping his prisoner firm in powerful grip.
Seated far at the end of corridor, both the King and Queen of Asgard were seated nobly upon their lofty thrones. They stood regally, intending to appear nonchalant at their son's arrival, though he, even at a distance, could explicitly decipher the distress and tears were brimming in his mother's eyes, curly blonde hair falling down her back. Odin, the much older, staid-looking ruler with a metal covering over his right eye, however, showed no expression.
Their footsteps ceased and the air hung heavily in the room. Their eldest son kneeled in center of the majestic Throne Room, a strikingly red cape pooling around him as he bowed out of respect, finally releasing his captor from his iron hand.
"Father, I have brought-" Thor announced in deep stately tones, almost mentioning the forbidden name, "-him home."
The All-Father muttered something momentarily to his wife, descended to the floor with grandeur, approached his son with a less-than-appeased look on his face. Frigga, on the other hand, didn't move an inch as she was formerly instructed.
"I wish to speak to him alone." The King commanded, looking his true offspring in the eyes.
Thor nodded and the Throne Room was emptied save Odin, Frigga, and the prisoner.
The Queen stayed stationary. She had been separated from him long enough; she was not going to leave the presence of one whom she had so sorrowfully missed.
Odin turned toward the silent, hunched, quivering, deep gray-cloaked, figure whose eyes were screwed solidly into the marble floor beneath them.
"Loki," he whispered remorsefully.
The young demigod couldn't raise his head to look the King in the eye, he didn't have the strength. Both physically and emotionally.
"Look at me."
The decrepit form was so terror-stricken, he quaked where he stood, giving a considerable jump and a cry at the commanding voice. He dug his skeletal knuckles into his hand, so hard they bled. His entire body was tense in a freeze-frame and felt of lead, he couldn't bring himself to meet gazes with his father. Not after their previous engagement. Not that.
"Look at me. Please."
For the first time since he could remember, the All-Father's voice dripped with what seemed to be…what? Contriteness? He didn't even give the slightest thought of disobeying the righteous god who had the might, power, and sanction to do whatever he wished to him. The idea of challenging the All-Father didn't even cross the adopted demigod's notion. His mind had been completely re-established. No longer one that was just his. All of his rebellious and crafty and mutinous designs had been extinguished,expunged, struck out of him so, so long ago…
Trembling significantly,the hooded head levitated shamefully, revealing a snowy-pale, battered face in stark contrast of his raven hair, some tendrils plastered by the sides near his ears by trickles of blood. The lower half of his face was encased in a dented silver muzzle, rimmed by glowing green eyes that danced about, filled with absolute horror and pain.
The King's heart shattered at the horrible sight of his not-son's form, though he did not show it, except for a softened expression pouring across his elderly face. Against his will, the ruler swallowed sharply before he stated tersely,
"You are not here to be killed."
Loki closed his lids, greatly disappointed. Being dead was all he wanted, every night when he did have the power to force himself asleep he often dreamt of death, how wonderful it would be not to hurt, not to hear, not to feel. But they wouldn't grant such a magnificent liberation for him. That would be too generous a release. Why, I know you would wish me to…If it is all the same…please do…I would be greatly gratified...
Despite what Odin said what he thought to have been providential news, Loki's fearful appearance did not subside.
"I have a proposal to make."
Like what?! Have you found elsewhere to send me to be…to be…His thoughts couldn't wrap around the terrifying word, the word that harassed his very being, day in and day out. No, not even in his silent thoughts could he raise his voice to anyone. Not even himself.
"A chance to redeem yourself. To reclaim your once good name."
What…
Loki glanced upwards for the first time. His name? He had a good name?
There was a pause. His brows knit together in a refreshed confusion his eyes trying to read the King's face, trying to figure out what this was all about. What could possibly be done?Why was he brought back here to this place? Why, why could they just destroy him and end all of the torment?
"There is a girl. A Midgaurdian girl, here in Asgard."
Loki's eyes widened slightly in bemusement, his heart was pounding furiously in his chest, not knowing why Odin was playing games and not raising his hand and decreeing another castigation against him. The King of Asgard was known for developing…creative punishments. Though Loki could not, his brain forbidding him to do so, think of anything worse than his last. And if it was, it would surely kill him this time.
"It is not known how she arrived here or why. She is living alone in an isolated cottage in the middle of a faraway woodland. A resident in a distant, remote village called Ingamar recognized her as a foreigner and reported an incident."
He gave him a look of utter puzzlement, there was no reasonable explanation to rationalize that the grand ruler of Asgard brought his son home-or rather-to his place of childhood-to give him news of some sort of an Midgard invasion. There was an ulterior motive and it baffled the demigod to no end as to what it was or what it was for. Why was he waiting? What was going to happen to him? This time?
Odin cleared his throat, not catching the real basis for Loki's perplexity, believing it had something to do with the human and added with a slightly embarrassed tone, "She was caught stealing onions from one of the local merchants."
Loki furled his eyebrows in a mixture of bewilderment and anticipated fear. Odin had comdemned him, now he was rescuing him and for what? He couldn't understand. Quivering, sweatbeads began to form underneath his matted hair and slid down the sides of his face, collecting the blood and splashing drops of crimson on the white, marble floors.
Why did you save me from them? What has this anything to do with me?
The All-Father finally being able to read his thoughts, gave an awkward scratch to his metal breastplate and skipped to the point.
"She needs a guardian until we can send her to her homeland…"
Loki's face darkened again.
"And you need to complete your sentence."
'His sentence'. Odin pondered these words sullenly. He oh-so wished they didn't sound so ominous.
Loki again fixed his gaze with the ground, closed them tightly, sustaining tears that he refused to let come. There was only reason he would mention that to him. Was he to... No, that could not be true. Only more lies. Lies had ruined his life. Desolated his mind. Fueled unexplainably nefarious passions, making him commit unfathomably heinous deeds.
In response to his gaining indignation, Loki blasted air through his nostrils angrily into his muzzle.
Suddenly, something in his brain struck him with a powerful force. There was relentless pain and a blackness for a split moment as something unseeable attacked him. Anger was not an emotion he was permitted to have. There was no such thing as anger. Fear. Fear was the only emotion.
At the realization of his insolent act, he instantaneously cringed, gasped, and turned his head away, as if he thought the King was going to assault him for his miniscule expression of disrespect.
Odin's heart shattered once more, eye enlarged farther then what could be considered normal. He'd never seen Loki ,or really anyone, do something like that previously. What was that? He wasn't certain that he could take any more emotional distress. After his the last time he had seen his son, he had made a cruelly horrendous decision. A choice that haunted him night after dreadful night for several months. Shrouded in a nebulous cloud of culpability and despair.What had they done to him?
Loki's head slowly revolved back around, and his clear-green eyes stricken with dread, anxiously searched his not-father's face, wondering why he hadn't been hit.
As usual, Odin showed no out-ward sign of sympathy for his son. His pride prevented him. There was a agonizingly long pause as he stared at the trembling figure before him, then continued,
"You will watch over her for one hundred days-"
Loki head shook involuntarily in astonishment, his eyes tickering about, conjecturing if he had heard the King correctly. No, he couldn't have. He must still be dreaming.
"Then you will be restored to your original status in the Palace as before."
His words only seemed to confuse and frighten Loki more, who was starting to pant uncontrollably, his chest rising and falling at an unnatural rate, ever heightening the inexorable burning in his back.
No…no…no humans…please…you can't…
Another pause as Loki's eyes flickered over to where the amanuensis would have been seated, high in a preserved booth, recording the words and occurences of the trial, the crowds filling the entire hall scoffing at him…this must have been a private arrangement, otherwise the news of a banishment would have been disclosed to all of the nobles and residents of the Palace, all there to witness his…
Shaken from his thought the King of Asgard concluded in a booming voice, "I hereby exile you to Ingamar for one hundred days."
The convict stared at the floor once more echoing the reprimanding phrase over and over in his mind, One hundred days.
Feeling the shards of guilt pierce his chest, Odin added in a somewhat quieter tone, trying not to make eye-contact with his adoptive son,
"Yesterday, I delivered a herald over to the house to inform the child of our arrival. She is expecting us. We must leave immediately."
Expecting him? He doubted it.
Guard her. Guard this human child. Mortals. A race in which he had intended on destroying. Erradicating. Now Odin was trusting him. Trusting him to protect one. After all the he had done. All the lives he had ended. It was madness. He did not deserve this. He was a monster of nature. Monsters are not worthy of such a complaisant reform. His brain racked with utter confusion. His mind couldn't wrap around any possible reasoning of his sudden predicament. There was absolutely no sense in it.
Forlornly, the prisoner looked past Odin, at his mother, though she was completely still, tears were streaming down her face.
Please be safe, I love you, my son.
He heard these words creep mysteriously into his head; she had spoken to him telepathically.
Odin exited with a regal stride out of the corridor, having the unusual urge to look back and say something, anything, but didn't.
Loki, against all reason, stayed behind all alone on the floor of the Throne Room and stood before his mother. Another lie. She did not love him and he was not her son.
Dejectedly, he turned away from her and laboriously began to follow Odin. He, without knowing specifically, he stopped before leaving the room. She the only one who he believed ever truly showed him affection in his entire life. His mother had always wished him to be accepted, but knew it could not be, yet she loved him genuinely, at least, so had used to think…up until a year and a half ago.
He turned again toward her gazing morosely up at the Queen's porceline face with those deep ocean eyes of her, with hair just as gleaming as her throne. With a single tear falling and seeping into his rusty muzzle, he briefly did a sullen nod. This was his only goodbye.
I do love you, as well…Mother.
With out a second look, he staggered down the corridor, pain creasing the ever so prominent lines in his face, his chains about his hands clattering, and his cloak slowly sweeping the floors as he did so.
"Be safe, my son." she whispered as tears rasped her hopeful voice.
Outside the palace gates, Thor and the two guards were already upon on their horses, striving not to shiver as their capes whipped about in the bitter winds, awaiting them. King Odin ordered that a small cart be attached to his steed, sensing Loki's inability to barely stand or walk, let alone ride a horse. Loki let out a groan as he painfully clambered inside. Odin mounted his and they were off. Two excruciating journeys in one morning without rest. It was going to be a long day.
After hours of bumping, hopping, and lurching across Asgard, terrible riding conditions only intensifying as they approached mountainous terrain, blighting questions still swirled about in his mind. Were they really taking him to Ingamar? Did they really trust him to live with this…mortal? A human child?
Meanwhile, Odin was deliberating as well. Perhaps, this wasn't the greatest of his brilliant ideas. Sure, he'd banished Thor to Midgard, giving him a change of heart. Yet…Loki. There was a distinction. Was it possible? After everything? Assumably, there was also the chance of Loki hurting the human…But could he? He knew his son committed several murders. Nevertheless…was he capable of killing an innocent child? A mere girl? He seemed to have apparently undergone enough already…wounded eternally. Much more than had been intended. Possibly beyond repair…
Hours passed. It was cold in sweeping upwards through the mountain,promising an anticipation of a chilly winter, but the air was loosened by a breeze coming through the forest, rustling the trees, making them sway. With time,the sky changed from blue to yellow to pink.
It was late afternoon, and though Loki had been to almost every land in Asgard, after a certain point, nothing was recognizable. They were in the thick, never-ending forest, passing a babbling brook, when Odin broke the silence, yelling over the sound of crunching leaves beneath the hooves of the horses and wheels of his cart.
"I believe it would be beneficial for you to know, that there is an enchanted bulwark surrounding this region. You will not be able to even do so much as to levitate a pin here."
Great. There was no escape.
Though he was no longer accostumed to disobedience, Loki he dared himself to think of an idea that would normally have been uncustomary for him to come up with.
He could be bluffing.
He decided test his theory subtly. Loki waited until the wind stopped blowing for a moment, and focused on a particular tree and squinted. Concentrating on attempting to shake the remaining dead leaves off its branches. The tree didn't budge. He knew what happen before he even tried. His powers weren't functioning before and they certainly weren't about to now. Magic was not a endowment he would ever be permitted to use again, and he knew that. Wonderful.
He wanted to disappear. Vanish more than anything. To fade away and to never come back. Even then, his mortification would follow him everywhere. Guilt. Shame. Remorse. Pain. Despair. Gnaw inside of him from every corner of his being. Thrash him relentlessly from the recesses of his mind forever and ever. The greatest of all magic couldn't cure that. Never.
They eventually came to a small clearing in the very heart of the dense forest, and Loki sat up and observed his surroundings, shaking anticipatedly of what he would soon call home.
There was a tiny, abandoned, red-brick cottage covered in wilting vines at the edge of a little field, browned with winter. The both sides of the roof curved upwards to tapered peak, giving the abode a faerie, storybook-like air. A great apple tree stood as a loyal companion beside the dwelling, the only sign of life in the landscape. He would have assumed the home vacant if it weren't for the smoke billowing out its chimney, inviting them.
That must be it.
As they finally stopped a several yards away from in front of the house, Loki sighed in gratitude, glad not to be moving any longer. Thor and the guards were ordered to stay behind and were told to keep strict watch on the house.
Odin leapt off his horse and waited for Loki to ascend from the cart.
"Come."
Obediently, Loki followed behind his not-father , he didn't dare recalcitrate. He was much too afraid of angering the King, giving him any more reason to possibly withdraw what he viewed as a gracious offer compared to his previous...punishment. To be sent back…
Odin refusing to slow his pace in order for his crippled son to keep up, they trekked across the brittle field and reached the front of the whimsical house. Two large windows were placed on either side of the door. There were little white planters on each windowsill with dead flowers in it.
This house is surrounded by death. Supposed foreshadowing, perhaps.
They simultaneously took deep breaths. King Odin hesitantly rapped on dome-shaped door. There was immediately a gasp and a little squeal followed by vibrations of light footsteps approaching.
Odin turned and spoke to the former prince of Asgard,
"Loki, if you disclose to her anything of the events of this past year, I willfind out. And if you harm her in any way. In any way at all Loki Laufeyson, I will deport you back. Straight back from whence you came."
Loki's face was absolutely mortified, he shook his head frenziedly, trembling more than he had before, hearing the voices in his head, cackling.
No...please...anything but that…
"And beware of her, I was informed she is…anomalous."
Anomalous? In what way?
They were both startled by…
"Whooo iiiis iiiit?" sang a delighted voice muffled behind the heavy, wooden door.
Odin rolled his eyes. Who else would call on an abandoned house in middle of nowhere? But before he could answer the door creaked open.
A small woman of freckled, olive skin wearing a low-cut moss green sweater-blouse emerged, panting from behind the door. Silver hooped earrings the size of golf-balls hung from her ears. Her little brown face, surrounded by thick, wispy hair, was all lit up. Her big, dark brown, cat-shaped eyes sparkled at the sight of the King. She pushed a curly tendril of her medium-length, raven locks back into her very loose cat-tail shaped pony, trying to mend her appearance.
"Sorry, I'm all outta' sorts, guys. Give me a sec'." she said still breathing hard and slammed the door.
Odin looked at back at Loki with his good eye, both were wide-eyed with shock.
The girl glanced about the room, to make sure everything was in place, and happily clasped her hands together. She had been white-washing the house all yesterday and today. Though now tired and slightly smelling of soap, all of her exhaustion had been wiped away at the expectation of her meeting the well known gods of Norse mythology, plus and hello? She was going home! She looked in the gold-framed rectangular mirror beside the door and beheld her animated expression.
Omigoshohmigosh! Eek! Holy crapola! The royalty of Asgard! In my house! I'm going to meet Thor and Odin! Holy friggen' crapola!
She ran her fragile fingers through her tresses and re-styled the thick pony-tail. She slicked her eyebrows. She batted her curly, spider-like lashes of her close-set eyes and pursed her full, pink lips. She grimaced as pulled up her sweater-blouse higher on her chest.
Don't look like a flasher, wanna' scare them, geez…
She sighed and clasped her hands together once more, "Just think, I'll be going home soon. Home. Earth. Thank goodness, I'm saved! Glad to be getting the heck out of here."
She took a deep, cleansing breath, and casually opened the door, without even trying to conceal an elated grin.
With the door ajar, the girl saw that the King had a stunned look on his face.
The freckled child chortled pleasurably.
"Haha,well, don't just stand there, freezing. Come in, come in, it's much warmer in here." she beckoned with pleasant, newscaster-like intonations.
Her orotund tone of voice was slightly surprising, coming from one so small.
She held the door open, waving them in.
"Thank you." King Odin regally entered through the little door.
She peered sharply upwards and saw the second person for the first time with a long dark gray cloak, who was quite tall, with hands cuffed in front of him. His face was shadowed by the thick hood over his head. The sight was slightly discomforting, but she definitely wasn't going to leave him outside to chill in the wintry air. It wasn't obvious to her yet that one such as he simply didn't 'get cold', as she was soon to find out.
"Umm… Come in, too." she said awkwardly to the hunched figure.
The prisoner glanced downwards, and uncomfortably shuffled past, having to duck to go through the threshold.
He must have been some runaway servant or something.
She followed them merrily inside with a cheerful skip.
It was a cozy little home. The tiny kitchen, living space, and dining area, in fact the entire house, was all one room. A round wooden table sat beside the kitchen counter. There was a long ,green , worn- velvet sofa in the center and opposite it was an antique, burgundy, wing-backed chair. The fireplace blazed in the welcomingly background. The only thing out of place in the quirky cottage space was a strange metal device with several connected gears hanging from the far wall above an old wooden credenza.
"Please have a seat." She motioned toward the couch.
The petite girl stepped up on a little wooden stool and peered through the left window. She squealed gleefully as she heightened herself on her tiptoes to get a better view.
She pointed at a faraway figure on a horse and gasped.
"Hey, is that Thor?!"
"Yes." Odin muttered, planting himself with a frown on the tattered furniture.
She gasped again and waved frantically, tip of her wispy, curly ponytail brushing the middle of her back.
Thor was twiddling his thumbs, impatiently waiting on his horse, sweating anxiously. How long are they going to beinthere? He saw something moving at the corner of eye. His head flashed toward the window of the house. There was a tiny, tan-skinned girl waving at him. That must have been the child. He waved awkwardly back at the small, jittery person in the window, already feeling that this may have been a great mistake.
"He waved at me." she whispered and giggled. The little human cocked her head to the side, questioningly.
"Isn't he coming?" she asked, wondering why he wasn't moving, sitting there all awesome on top of his horse.
Odin said, "I will get to that. Please sit."
The girl skipped over to the kitchen counter and picked up the clear glass water-pitcher.
She said with a noticeable hint of a North-Eastern accent, "Anybody want any water, or…"
She checked the cabinets, and snickered at not seeing anything else, " Or… or what, water?"
Odin was growing slightly impatient. "No. Thank you, please be seated."
She put down the pitcher and noticed for the first time that the prisoner was still standing discomfited beside the couch.
Her curious eyes ran over his bent, weathered body, and cleared her throat.
"Uh…ya' know, you can sit too, it's big enough for the both of you." she said sweetly to the strange man in the dark shroud.
He looked at her for the first time, shifted uncomfortably as if wondering whether or not it would be acceptable to do so, and painfully lowered himself at the very end of the couch farthest away from the King and grimaced as he plopped down.
In his slight bounce, the hood slid off his head.
The girl suppressed a gasp. A pale, milky white face with smooth, inky hair down to his shoulders with bright, green eyes filled with agony, was uncovered from underneath the cloak. His face was encased in some sort of muzzle that, to her dismay, seemed as though they'd seen much better days and his thin wrists were clasped with heavy hand-cuffs.
The child's joyful expression instantly vanished. She recognized him immediately.
"Oh my go-." she breathed almost inaudibly.
Loki.
They locked eyes, his empty, hers worried, as she slowly maneuvered over to her maroon-coloured wingback chair and sat with an expression of utmost shock clear on her face.
She suddenly didn't feel very cheerful.
Something clicked on inside of her head, seeing immedietly the bright ticker of a red flag raising up and waving at her from behind them both. Kings did not personally make house calls for no apparent reason, even if it was to visit someone who didn't really have a right to be there. I mean, duh that's what mediary emissaries were for. She was small but she definitely wasn't stupid. As a theif you have to be able to pick up little things, like noticing a whisper of tension tugging on the corner of a wise and very old man's eyes, deciphering the nervous half-second twitches of his upper lip beneath his mustache. You just had to be quick like that.
Her voice devoid of glee and staring Odin straight in the eyes said, "What's going on?"
"I will explain, but before I begin, may I have your name?" Odin inquired respectfully.
She had given her name to the understatedly-'unfriendly' messenger just the day before, but she guessed that he was too busy giving her dirty looks to pay any attention to what she had said to him.
Now that her 'guests' were here, she wasn't so sure she wanted to give her real name. Something was funny about this whole situation. She could feel it.
Pop!
There was another red flag sticking up at the top of Loki's head. Why? He was trembling. But it wasn't cold in the house. So what was the big deal? Shaking when it's not cold means only two major things- 'psycho' or 'fear'. She already knew he was psycho which only left fear. And Loki just didn't do 'fear'. Not a good sign. And that ,sure as heck, make it fifty million times less comfortable sitting in the same room with him.
Despite all of the warnings, nonetheless, she knew that Odin wouldn't say a peep without first having a name. She was hesitant, but she gave up. She sighed and dictated explicitly in her serious, clear voice,
"Peyton."
REVIEW!
First impressions anyone? Good, bad, fantastic? Tell me.