His Girl

It was raining the night Loki was called away.

He recalled the weather was oddly violent at the time; the elements battered against his manor as though it had insulted their ancestors, the windows rain-drenched and dark, and he had heard the doorknocker only faintly as he passed through the foyer towards his living room. Peering out of the side-windows was useless; in the storm it was impossible to make out more than a man's shadowy silhouette.

Loki answered it with a furrowed brow. The light from his foyer washed over his visitor's face, and suddenly he saw the recognisable beard and blue armour, the hammer gripped in a hand as though it was born with it.

"Brother!" he greeted, gesturing Thor inside; "How nice it is to see you!"

The warrior stepped inside the foyer with a grin. It was a beautiful place; huge chandeliers floated overhead without cords, with Asgardian and Giant statues in all four corners. The flagstone floor was swept and clean, and to their left were two staircases leading upstairs, bordering a small statue of three children – a wolf, a serpent, and an infant, almost human child nestled between them. The faces of old and celebrated warriors stared over the house, forever immortalised in paint and plaster. Their dead eyes were vigilant over Loki's home.

"Brother!" the pair hugged and patted each other's backs, sharing a moment of camaraderie only countless battles could have given them; "It's good to see you so well. How is it here in Giantland?"

"The same as it ever was. Angrboða has launched a war against the wolves of Ironwood. She's out with her hunting party trying to catch them off guard."

"She's never fought with the wolves before."

"Since the Allfather bound Fenrir, she's had more hate for free wolves," Loki's eyes darkened and grew a touch more melancholy; "But she doesn't understand. Mischief flows strong through our sons' veins. They must be bound, or else even I fear what would come of the Realms."

Thor offered him a sad smile and put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. Fenrir's binding had cost Týr his hand, but after the blind seeress' predictions of death and chaos none would risk having him free. It was the lesser of two evils, but Loki suffered for the decision every day.

"And where is my niece?" he asked to change the subject; "I've not seen her in months. I want to see how she's grown!"

"Oh, how she's taller now! She's come to be so curious; a mischief-maker in her own right."

The prince turned to the foyer and put his hands on his hips. He thought for a moment, then with a snap of his fingers he called out a spell Thor knew all too well – a spell that froze people in place, perfect to stop enemies in their tracks, and perhaps even an overly curious child with a sense of adventure.

"Hel," Loki called; "Come and see your uncle Thor."

Deep in the manor, he heard a little patter of tiny feet hurrying towards them. It grew louder and louder until, finally, a little girl of about two years erupted from the living room, catapulting herself into Thor's legs with a loud thud. To his credit, the God only swayed under the assault.

Hel was a small child, much smaller than her brothers, and resembled more her father than her mother. Her skin was pale and her eyes a brilliant emerald, and her energy was infectious. She was Loki's favoured child, just as Fenrir was Angrboða's.

"Hel!" he cheered as he lifted her from the floor and enveloped her in a hug; "Your father was right! What a troublemaker you are. How goes the magic?"

"It's coming along well. She's able to conjure fireballs now, much to our horror. You should see the market's chicken coop. I owe more chickens than I'm able to get a hold of."

"Ah, but magic is a rare and precious gift. And what better person to teach her control than you, Loki? Don't fret. She'll hone her abilities until she's the greatest in all the Nine Realms!" he set her down on the floor. His brother kneeled down on one knee to look at her.

"A mage's path is a long and dangerous one," Loki cupped his daughter's face and smiled at her, stroking his thumb across her cheek; "Were it not for the opportunities she'll have, I would want differently for her."

The man watched them for a moment, noting Hel's mischievous green eyes and soft smile. She was a silent child, though Loki theorised she could speak – she simply chose not to.

"When will your wife return, brother?" he asked, turning his head to peer at the empty foyer around them.

The trickster's eyes darkened. "Perhaps tonight, perhaps in three. She'll likely be in the tavern after the hunt."

Loki rose to full height and expelled the thunderous look in his eyes. He turned to his brother, and Thor noticed immediately his expression had changed to one of resignation.

"I suppose you've come with news?"

Thor nodded. He seemed sombre, apologetic.

"Of course." Loki looked at his daughter. "Hel, your uncle and I must speak alone. Can I trust you not to cause mischief while we're gone?"

The child was smiling, but Loki could see the devious glimmer in her eyes. He had seen it many times before, and every time he thwarted it before it could cause too much trouble.

"Very well. Stand still, my girl. I'll release this when I return."

He clicked his fingers and, with a snap, Hel was frozen into place. She appeared as a perfect statue. Loki smiled, then led Thor away from the foyer and to his study.

The study was a large room with many bookcases, all of them stuffed with novels, manuals, and a range of spellbooks that Thor thought he would never fully understand. There was a desk in the middle with a comfortable-looking chair behind it that Loki sat in, gesturing for his brother to sit in the chair opposite him. He shook the offer away with a polite smile.

He noticed the pictures on his brother's desk. There were five in all, all put into little handmade frames, and when he looked at them Thor was not surprised to see they were mostly of his children. Hel in her long overcoat standing in the courtyard; Jorgmundr with his fangs bared, curled up and prepared for attack; Fenrir with his coat bristling and his dripping fangs on show; and an infant Hel surrounded by her brothers, an intimate, darling picture that Loki prized as one of his dearest possessions. The fifth was of his wife, shoved behind the others as though he hated to see it.

"A beautiful family," said Thor as he picked up Angrboða's picture.

"She gave me that one. I would have preferred to keep on the mantel in the living room, but she insisted." Loki peered almost disgusted at the thing in his brother's hands.

"It's dusty. Where are your servants?"

"I sent them away. Hel does better when she's alone."

Thor inspected the painting for a moment longer before he put it down and switched to their business.

"The Allfather sent me with this," he pulled a sealed envelope from his armour and handed it over; "I thought the war would fizzle into a stalemate, but no. The Fire Giants are threatening all of the Nine Realms with their weaponry. Peace is not their goal – domination is. The jewels they have – the crystals? They're capable of destruction the likes of which we've never seen before. Even the Warriors Three are nervous for the outcome."

Loki's eyes scanned through the letter as his brother spoke. He had his hand pressed against his mouth, cupping his chin, and his brow furrowed the more he read. His eyes were drawn to one particular excerpt:

Though your mother and I are anxious to see our granddaughter again, I ask your presence in Asgard post-haste to discuss the on-going war with Muspelheim. I could use your expertise in the matters of magic and war formations.

I understand that Hel is entering a crucial stage in her magic, but the issue cannot wait. The repercussions of our idleness could be dire. Many more will die if we continue to dally.

I eagerly await your arrival. Please give Hel our love.

A flutter of annoyance troubled Loki's stomach. For a moment he thought it was anger. Hel's magic was not yet refined, had not yet stabilised, and she for the most part had very precarious control of it. He was tempted to tell Thor he could not leave her. She was at a stage where the energy practically poured out of her veins and caused all sorts of mayhem she had not meant for. But the Fire Giants threatened even Giantland, and their arrival would have threatened her even more than her own power.

"Would I be a consultant or a warrior, should we be forced to attack?" he asked as he set the letter down in front of him. He did not look at Thor as he did so.

"Warrior, of course."

"Would I be required on the front line?"

"As all of our great warriors are, yes."

"Hm." He looked at the door to the foyer. His eyes sparked with an emotion Thor could not quite read. "I may leave Hel without a father."

"Were it to come to that, brother, she would understand and honour your sacrifice."

The trickster did not reply.

"You're an excellent father, Loki – we must look at this as an investment in the future. Our suffering today will give her a safer universe."

In the foyer, the portraits of old warriors stared down and saw, silent and watchful, Hel frozen in place, quiet, alone. She was ignorant of what was about to come, ignorant of the war and all of its implications. Her fate dangled precariously in her father's hands.

His decision would set in motion her terrible rise.