She was nothing but a myth, a legend on Midgard that many didn't even know about. Born from a peasant family, raised like an animal, beaten, badgered, and discarded like trash.
Those who knew of her called her Silverwing, Goddess of Dreams and Innocence. She was anything but. In her legends, she was a killer, a warrior without mercy to her foes. The only chink in her armor, children. She cared deeply for them, especially those abandoned and left alone by the world around them.
Her looks were portrayed like a demons: her skin was a dark grey, her back held to large bat wings and a lion's tail. Her eyes were green, vibrant like emeralds dug straight from the earth itself. The whites of her eyes were anything but. Instead they were swirling vortexes that made you think her vision would burn you to the same ash as her skin.
The children she went to, those she saved said she was like an angel. Her gaze like the mother's they never had. She would come in the night, when her help was needed most, take the children in her arms and give them warmth, and then fly them to a place she knew they would be loved, cherished and cared for like they deserved.
This was just legend though, she wasn't real, not even to Asgardian knowledge, who had heard of her since the dawn of time. But now… as Odin walks into the Jotun temple, he sees her, holding a small, child in her arms, looking at the man with those burning eyes. She has blood on her hands, black claws growing from her finger tips still dripping with blood.
"Who are you?" he asked, drawing his sword. He did not trust this woman, no matter who she was.
"You're people know of me as Silverwing." She stated soothingly, the sift part of her forefinger running down the child's cheek lovingly. "You know of me, yes?" Her voice was like fire, warm and soothing, but had a biting edge.
"I have." He stepped closer looking at her even more closely. She was young, just a teen. Her hair was long, flowing behind her like a cape. A lock of her hair was silver, just above her right brow, and flowed through the rest of her ravenette hair like a shooting star.
When she looked up at him, he stopped. If stories were true, she could easily burn him now with those green on grey eyes. But they didn't. Instead they held warmth that he saw in many mothers back home. "You have a son?" she asked calmly.
This startled him, the news of his son's birth was not to be spoken of till he went home, his wife having given birth just that morning. "How do you-."
"I know because I can see it in you." She said, cutting him off. The woman's eyes went back down to the child. "This child was left here, to die. He but only a babe, born not a few moments ago." Her voice was soft, as if she were purring to the child. A small blue hand waved up at her, a shrill giggle dispersed from him.
"Why do you tell me this, demon?" he was becoming enraged, a battle was just outside, raging on as he talked to this… creature. He needed to go back to his men, grab the item he came in there to get and flee before they all died.
"He has no home." She continued, as if uninterrupted, "no mother, no father, not even a name." Once more she looked to the King. Before he would even think she was moving towards him, tail swishing behind her leisurely. It was then he saw her clothes. They were that of a servant, torn, ragged, as if she had died wearing them. "He needs them dearly to survive."
Silverwing stopped in front of the king, a small smile on her lips. "Will you give him those things?"
The Asgardian King frowned. Who was this woman to ask him of this? How dare she come to him, child in hand and-…
The thoughts went silent as he looked down at the child. He was looking at the king with crimson eyes. He was smaller than any Frost Giant offspring he had ever seen, barely fitting in the crook of her arm. Something in him was touched at the sight of the child, which was strange. He had only just felt this warmth when his own son was born, placed in his arms by his loving Frigga.
"Odin, Allfather of Asgard," this woman said, drawing his eyes. Her eyes had softened, the grey swirls in them settling and were whiter than before. "Will you take this child, as if he were your own?"
Once more, something hit him inside. He didn't know what to say in actuality, but the girl before him seemed to see it, smiling a kind, one-fanged smile.
One arm stretch to the king, lifting each of his arms one at a time, taking the sword away from him before placing the babe in his hands. As soon as his skin touched the child's, it began to change. From an ice cold blue to a soft warm pink. The eyes to a dark green, and a spot of black hair on his head grew.
"Odin, son and defeater of Borr, will you take this child into your home, your heart, and your family?"
Without thinking, he replied "Yes."
Silverwing smiled looking at the man. Even as he was covered in blood, his armor stained red and the tarnished gold shimmering, she saw the love in his one remaining eye. "What will you name him?"
There was a moment of pause, the roar of the fight outside making the moment seem almost… outlandish. Once more the Allfather spoke, his voice softening from the threatening tone he took to her I the beginning. "Loki… Loki Odinson."
She smiled, running the knuckle of her hand down the child's face once more in preparation for her leave. "It is done." An then she was gone, her wings lifting her out of the temple so silently the Allfather didn't notice her leave before he looked up to see her gone.
Looking down at the child, Odin brought him to his chest, a warmth going through him as he claimed the child as his own. "Loki… my son."