Author's Note: Myskia, Frost Bats and Valhalla, Norway don't exist in either DMC or Thor.

Myskia

Asgard, 967 A.D.

Stood beside his emerald blanketed bed, Loki stomped his foot and exclaimed, "Father I am not going to bed !" His small voice further diminished in the enormous golden, marble and sandstone bedchambers.

Father looked down at him before running a hand over his grey beard with a sigh. "I would expect this from Thor, not you, Loki. Tell me, what may I do so that you go to sleep ?"

"I want a story, one which you have yet to tell Thor. Please, Father, I swear that right after I will go to sleep." He tilted his head and further widened his eyes. 'It works to get the last potato pancake from Thor, it has to work now. It must work.'

Father's one good eye closed briefly in consideration. "I suppose that I could tell you of the time I was in the Midgardian country of Sweden when you were only a year old."

"Yeah, story !" With a broad smile, he hugged Father's leg before scrabbling into bed atop the silver-silk sheets.

Slowly, Father sat down beside him golden-armour gleaming in the moonlight. Muninn croaked from Father's shoulder when Huginn fluttered down to land in his lap. Absently, he stroked Huginn's head-feathers and waited for Father to start talking.

"Long ago, so long ago that your grandfather Bor was still hundreds of thousands of millennia from being born, the Frost Giants had rule of Midgard. Many millennia passed before the Frost Giants themselves were deposed by terrible creatures that the Midgardians would come to call Demons. They fled back to Jotunheim leaving behind the great creatures of war we called Frost Bats. Frost Bats eat the flesh of any creature they can dig their fangs into, yet over the years still they declined until only one existed - the dread Myskia who had first fathered them. Shortly after you and Thor were born, I tracked Myskia down to a forest where the surrounding villages worshipped him as the God of Air. It was many harrowing hours we fought Gungnir and energy beams against fangs, wings and ice-breath. Eventually, I scored a blow to his right-wing and he fled like the cowardly Frost creature he was."

Huginn croaked and flapped his wings as he clutched the bird to his chest. Worriedly, he asked, "Did you find him and kill him ?"

A tanned, wrinkled hand reached out to smooth his hair. "Why would I further pursue him when I had yourself, Thor and your mother to worry of ? I am sure that he died of his wounds somewhere. Now, go to sleep."

Once more, he stroked Huginn's feathers before he let go and the raven flew back to Father. He slid under the blanket with, "Good-night, Father."

Rough beard scratched against his forehead, "Good-night, Loki."

Long after Father had left, he finally fell into dreams; dreams of forty-foot bats, icy forests and the slaying of the beast whilst all of Asgard cheered.

Valhalla, Norway, 2005 A.D.

Dante pulled his long sword, Rebellion, from Myskia's corpse. The enormous, dark-crimson and sapphire-furred bat started to dissolve into the crumbling marble floor and he wiped Rebellion on its chest. When he'd sheathed the sword on his back, he looked up at the starlight that poured through the shattered stained-glass window above the altar with a faint smile. Despite the grim reason he'd come to the small town e.g. kids being kidnapped and eaten by Myskia, he was happy he'd been able to save the last two, Hilde and Sven Johnson.

'At least nobody else's gonna have to go looking for their kids only to find bones. I'm just sorry I didn't arrive fast enough to save the four-year old twins, but thank God I got that tip from Mr. Olafson before Hilde and Sven were bat food.'

One of the rotted oak support beams that the bat had hit with its scarred-wing during their rodeo stunt collapsed with an enormous, echoing groan. He stepped back as a 100-pound chunk of ceiling and fluted columns followed and crashed into the tile he'd just stood on. 'Uh, I hope they don't mind doing renovations on this place.'

From the church's entrance came the sound of clapping before a soft voice enthused, "Oh that was magnificent, utterly magnificent !"

He whirled around to face the man, "You know what would've been even more magnificent ?"

Sleek, shoulder-length black-hair contrasted sharply with the pale-skin and complimented the tie-less, black suit with the white button-down shirt. One thin-fingered hand rose so the man could examine his nails, "Many things, but do enlighten me, Spardason."

"You…getting off your scrawny ass and helping me."

The man teleported to stand not a foot away from him; moonlight bathed the delicate features and emerald-eyes crinkled as an impish smile crossed the man's lips. "Ah, but I already did, it was I who contacted you…Dante."

Normally, he wasn't the type to let business mix with pleasure, but with the way his stomach had just tied itself into knots it wasn't going to be easy this time. When he managed to get his wits back the realization hit him, "You're lying. Mr. Olafson doesn't sound anything like you. Who are you ?"

Just then a disconcertingly raspy voice, Mr. Olafson's, left the pale-pink lips, "I am him because he does not exist." Again the man teleported and the soft voice brushed against his ear causing him to shiver. "I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard."

'Loki ? Fucking God of Mischief Loki ? He's probably just dicking around, so why do I feel disappointed ? This had better not be like that Nevan let me seduce you while I try to kill you shit.'

He was unsuccessful in trying to shove either the butterflies out of his stomach or steady his voice. "So, why didn't His Highness the God of Mischief help his subjects himself ?"

Loki's lips pressed against the side of his neck. "Please call me Loki. That aside, well, I couldn't possibly meet you if I dealt with Myskia myself, could I ? Whilst you were dealing with him I was escorting the little ones back to the village."

Annoyed, he snapped, "Would you stop touching me for a moment ?"

Of course, that was when Loki laughed from a perch atop the altar. "I would, if I was in fact touching you."

Dante rolled his eyes and grumbled as he turned. "You must get a real kick out of playing I'm not touching you since nobody knows what you're actually doing."

The Asgardian, who had cleared the altar of debris and draped himself across it, slowly raised himself. "Oh, you should have seen the tantrums Thor threw when we were five, those were hilarity incarnate."

"That's one thing I can't stand about trickster Gods they think being fucking annoying is funny."

Cue an overly dramatic gasp from Loki and in mock horror the black-haired man exclaimed, "How uncouth of you, oh, oh, I should die !" Loki completed the act by rolling onto his back, draping one hand over the altar's edge as the other suddenly clutched a rose to his chest.

Despite his best efforts to stifle it he couldn't help, but burst out laughing. 'Okay, so maybe he's a bit funny.'

With a bright grin Loki rolled off the altar and teleported over the debris back to him.

"Allow me to oblige the Slayer of Myskia a celebratory drink in recompense for my inanities."

Before he knew it Loki had put the rose into one of his duster's inner pockets the pale-fingers brushing his hip as they pulled away.

"I swear that I will pull no more jests on you, unless you should wish it."

"Lies fall under mischief, Loki, do you really think I'm going to believe you ?"

Loki replied, "I would be disappointed if you did, so, is that a yes ?"

Dante hummed in response then Loki reached out, took his shoulder and…a second later they appeared outside Valhalla. The town's houses were mostly made of old, but very well-maintained brick or ancient heavy logs with a few modern paneled ones, all encircled by ash trees. He looked over his shoulder, hidden behind all the trees would be the remnants of the ancient church. Hopefully, all the kids who'd died there over the last who-only-knew hundreds, maybe thousands, of years could find peace.

A faint squeal reached his ears before the strawberry-blonde haired Sven and dark-red haired Hilde rushed from behind a near-by tree to tackle his legs. "Mr. Sparda, Mr. Sparda, you're not dead !"

He couldn't help muttering, "Well, Valhalla is a place on Earth." even though he was the only one who understood the reference.

Loki, who had released him and moved to give them space, mouthed the phrase only to shake his head in confusion.

Hilde and Sven took his hands and he let them start pulling him into town with Loki following behind. When they reached the town square what looked like damn near everyone was there and burst into almost deafening cheers. It wouldn't have felt right for him to leave 'Mr. Olafson' out and Loki looked surprised to be included.

The next morning, as he woke up with Loki curled around him, he had to give it to Valhalla and Loki they knew how to throw one Hel of a party.