DISCLAIMER!

This was the first and is the only idea I have for a Loki fanfic. I've tried looking up similar stories, and have found nothing! So I'm either looking in the wrong place, or it's just not a perspective many authors choose to put on here.

This story is going to combine elements of what goes on in my everyday life while incorporating the characters and storylines from the Thor and Avengers movies. For that reason, full names, specific locations, names of businesses, ect. will be changed, if not completely left out. The people whom I'll be mentioning in this story have consented my doing so, and I am touching base with them regularly to see if any changes need to be made before a chapter is published.

I'm writing this story for the following reasons: A.) It's completely unique in style compared to my other stories. B.) The whole plot of it has kind of been killing me for the past two weeks. And C.) As a tribute to my fellow writer S.A. Supernova on Wattpad, who committed suicide this past May. She did a similar story involving Doctor Who, and she got the story published into an actual book! Needless to say I'm proud of her for her bravery and determination, and I like to think that she'd be cheering me on with this story if she were still with us.

As an added note, I will be putting little disclaimers at the end of chapters just to sort out some facts and fables I might have slipped in. I hope this story will turn out as one of my greatest, and that it'll help you, the followers who have stuck with me these past 4 years of writing, and the followers who may have only discovered me just the other day, get to know me a bit better. Walk a mile in my shoes, if you will.

Enjoy the story!

-BlueRaven 666

Adventures with the Midgardian Fool

Prologue

"I was sent here to inform you that the queen has died."

I nodded dismissively to show the guard I had heard what he said, though I don't think I truly started to grasp his words until I heard his footsteps fade down the corridor.

Frigga was dead.

My mother was dead.

"Frigga is the only reason you're still alive, and you'll never see her again..."

Odin's words came flooding back to me, and that's when it became real. No matter how many illusions of herself she might have sent me, no matter how often I heard her soothing, gentle voice in my head in the quiet of my cell, it wasn't real. The illusions faded at the slightest touch, and the voices faded away into the silence. She was never truly there. It was merely her shadow, and that's when it really hit me. I was never going to see Frigga again.

In a manner that was all too calm, I closed the book I had been reading and placed it on the stool beside me. Before I knew it, I'd gotten up from my chair and was facing in the direction where Frigga and I had last talked. It may have been an illusion, it may not have been real, but what I'd give to have even that now.

"He's not my father!"

I will never forget the expression of pain that slowly settled onto her face.

"Then am I not your mother?"

"You're not."

It'd only been the last of my arrogance fueling those words, and now here I was regretting them. Wishing I could take them back, if only to see Frigga one last time. Be it her sending me an illusion, or holding me in her arms the way she had not so long ago. Anything if only I could apologize.

All it took was a burst of magic to send everything in my cell flying against the walls. Chairs tipped, tables flipped, and books scattered. The only things left standing really was my bed and an end table. Looking at it all didn't make me feel any less angry at myself, because it was Frigga that had all of this brought down to me so I wouldn't spend the last four thousand years or so of my life wasting away on a bare white floor.

But who was I fooling?

It was all I deserved now.

I'm not exactly sure when I stopped. There were no windows or doors to look out of to let me know if it was night or day. All I knew is that I didn't stop until everything had been destroyed, including myself; my hair a mess, my left foot stinging and hurting something fierce, what little I'd been allowed of my robes discarded, leaving me in nothing but a simple pair of black pants and a basic green shirt.

I pressed my back against the far wall of my cell and slid down until I was sitting amongst the ruins of my furniture. The rage still burned inside me like an inferno, but my hands trembled with a fury I had never seen, and with my foot injured I doubt I was going to be able to stand up straight.

"You might want to take the stairs to the left..."

I screamed.

I screamed with a seething hatred I'd never uttered before, not caring who might be watching or listening. This was my fault. Frigga was dead, I'd never be able to apologize for the things I'd said, I was never going to see her again, and it was all. My. Fault. Take the stairs to the left. Brilliant advice, Loki! Let's just help the Kursed escape and kill everybody in his path! Really fucking brilliant!

I screamed until I could scream no more, my throat burning as I finally let out a flustered huff and stared daggars into the floor that was blemished with splinters of wood from chairs and tables, smudged with dirt, and stained with blood that'd come from the cut in my foot. I didn't care. I was no longer considered a prince, just another prisoner. Whatever condition my cell or my self was in was no longer of any importance.

It wasn't like I was going to be receiving visitors anyway.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the wall and tried to calm down. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to spent centuries regretting what could have been.

Maybe... just maybe... I could sleep these years away...

000

Ow... ow... ugh... ow...

It was the same thing every day. Sunday through Thursday nights, eleven to seven, eight hours on my feet, always moving, always bending, always lifting. Granted, working janitorial in a factory these past six months left me in less pain than it did the first, but it didn't leave me feeling any less tired when I got out.

And my day was far from over.

I made the long, tiring walk across the parking lot to my car, spamming the unlock button on the remote to my keys all the way. Curse the parking lot for being so big. Curse the lack of parking spots that were close to the door. Curse Ben for insisting we leave at ten, instead of getting there earlier to claim a closer parking spot. And curse myself for making myself so freaking tired.

There was a bright side to this situation. It was Friday morning; my weekend. The down side? It promised to be a busy weekend. Not full of dishes or laundry or trying, and failing, to tidy up the apartment like usual. This was the weekend of Shuto Con.

No amount of exhaustion, aches, and pains could talk me out of going to the single most greatest convention I've been able to attend. Even if it meant I was going to have to drive a half hour to pick up my friend Morgan, and even if it meant driving another hour and a half to actually get to the convention itself. Waiting somewhere amongst the miles and the frustrating city traffic was a hotel room and a bed with my name on it, and I was bound to pass out the moment my head hit the pillow.

I let out a relieved sigh as I sat down in my car. Sitting. Sitting was good. The pain that had been attacking my legs, back, and hips vanished. My feet were relieved, as well, but I still felt a stabbing pain shoot through my right foot as the sole of my shoe brushed against a corn. I dreaded what that was going to feel like during the convention.

As I started it up, a looming shadow appeared in my passenger side window and opened the door. At least I wasn't going to be waiting for him for twenty minutes this time.

"Bruh..." I huffed, lighting a cigarette, jolting a bit as he sat down.

Ben was a big guy; easily half a foot taller than me, stocky, and, appearence wise, really intimidating. The type of intimidating that scared pizza guys away from the front door, and made people think twice about pissing him off. But to me, he was my brother and my best friend. I trusted him above anyone else, and he trusted me. I was lucky.

Really lucky.

Because Ben was one guy I would not want to be on the wrong side of.

"Let's get the fuck outta here, man..." he sighed, shutting the door.

I chuckled, "You read my mind."

It was late March, and in Michigan the weather and road conditions were a gamble. It could be dry and clear, cold and rainy, or freezing and snowy. The saying goes, "If you don't like the weather in Michigan, wait five minutes. It'll change." and this time of the year that couldn't have been more true. The year before last, it was warm and sunny. Last year, it was cold and rainy. This year... it was grey, overcast, and cold. The forcast called for freezing rain. The type of weather that could be either freezing rain, rain, or a freaking blizzard.

For the love of God, I hoped there wasn't going to be a blizzard.

"Is your cosplay all ready to go?" Ben asked me as we pulled out.

"You know it!" I replied, shaking with excitement, "Tsukiyama is ready to roll!"

Ben laughed, "You're obsessed."

And that I was. Find a character that's weird, flamboyant, misunderstood, or voiced by J. Mchael Tatum, and it's a safe bet that I'll be obsessed with them. Shuu Tsukiyama just happened to be a twisted combination of all of these things. I was doomed from the moment I started watching Tokyo Ghoul. Ben often poked fun at my obession with certain fifictional character; most of his jests being sexual. There were times when I really couldn't deny it. Not because I would, but because Ben literally wouldn't let me deny it. After being cut off so many times with skeptical stares and ungodly sounds that only Ben seemed to know how to produce, I just stopped trying and rolled with it. Just for shits and giggles.

I had everything I needed for my cosplay; the bright purple wig, a matching suit, a blood red dress shirt, a black tie, dress shoes, and, to top it all off, even the bloody handkerchief. I was proud of it, for sure, and last year it was so popular that I almost couldn't keep up with the photos. Killed my feet in the process, but it was well worth it, and I was hoping it would be the same this year.

The drive to Morgan's was relatively quiet, save for Ben laughing periodically at Facebook memes and me getting cut off at every other intersection. Probably the shittiest thing about working thirds: morning traffic. Correction; morning traffic in Michigan! A test of survival where the stop signs don't matter, and the freeway equals death! At least with me behind the wheel.

Picking up Morgan was probably the next most stressful thing I had to experience. I was hoping she'd be ready to roll, waiting for us in front of her house. My hopes had gotten way too high as we walked into her room to find her still under the covers and the alarm she had set on her phone blaring. The next fifteen minutes minutes were a blur of clothes flying and bags being packed. Under any other circumstance, I would have just chilled out on the couch and had another smoke, but doing so meant me running the risk of falling asleep, and we had another long, pain-in-the-ass drive ahead of us.

Finally, after a lot of pacing and worrying, and time checking, Ben and Morgan came flying down the stairs. We bolted out the door and practically threw ourselves into the car.

"What time did you say registration opened at the convention?" Morgan asked, settling herself into the massive garbage heap that was my back seat.

"Nine," I replied as we tore out of the driveway, "So in about thirty minutes."

"That's not too bad," Ben said nonchalantly.

Not too bad? The lines were going to be insane! The traffic... Oh, God! I kept my mouth shut about it, though. I was always the worrywart of our little group, and I was sure saying something would have lead to some very sarcastic remarks from Ben. Besides, I was more concerned about getting to our hotel room and going to bed, and check-in didn't open until eleven anyways. Literally, all I could do to calm myself down is tell myself that there was time.

The drive to Lansing was the same as the drive to Morgan's; long, quiet, and full of morons that didn't know how to drive. The only thing that managed to calm my nerves all the way down was the less than healthy McDonald's breakfast we picked up on the way. Let's face it; hot cakes and milkshakes made eveything better.

We reached our hotel's location a little past ten-thirty, so I opted to drop Ben and Morgan off at the convention and I would go back and get our room, hopefully without getting lost. They agreed, and we were off again. I'd been concerned for a while that Ben would be too tired to go to Shuto right after getting out of work, but he was stubborn. He'd sooner let himself drop dead before he skipped out on seeing the other cosplays and the convention's events, especially since he had his girl at his side. This would be Morgan's first anime convention. She wasn't even really into anime, and her eyes were lit up like it was Christmas day.

We knew we were getting close to the convention center when the ordinary dull colors of the city were exchanged for the exotic, vibrant colors of cosplay wigs and garments that were so bright, they looked as animated as they did in their respected shows. Armor, wings, otherworldly weapon props, suits, and gowns highlighted the sidewalks and crosswalks as far as the eye could see. They appeared in car windows, and poured out of taxis, and we knew we were at the right place.

"You sure you don't want to come inside and register first?" Ben asked me, once I had found a suitable parking space, which had been easier said than done.

"I'm sure," I replied tiredly, "I wanna catch some Z's first."

Ben shot me a mocking grin, jutting out his chin and looking down at me, his eyes straining as if they were struggling to peer around his jaw.

"The Erai is the sleepy!" he squeaked out.

I couldn't help but laugh,

"Yes, the Erai is the sleepy."

"You know where you're going?"

"Yeah, I was keeping track of the turns we made on the way here."

I lied. I wasn't paying attention to the turns. I had only been trying to look out for the idiot that had been in front of me the whole time, slamming on his breaks because he didn't know where to turn off at. It was a mericle I hadn't rear ended him. The only thing that was keeping my nerves together was the fact that I knew what road our hotel was at, and I had my GPS.

"Alright," Ben said, turning towards the doors to the convention center, "Let us know when you get there."

"I will," I said, "I'll give you guys the room number, too."

Ben nodded in agreement before launching himself out of the car with Morgan in tow. Once they were in the convention center and out of sight, I pulled out my phone and entered the name of our hotel into Google Maps. Luckily, there was only one Blue Roof Inn in the area; 2.2 miles away, seven minutes by car, or fourty five minutes on foot. No way in Hell I was walking for fourty five minutes around downtown Lansing just to get to the hotel. Knowing my luck, I'd be pickpocketed, jumped, and mugged all within the same mile.

At least in my car, I could run the bastards over if they tried.

The Blue Roof Inn wasn't all that hard to find. It was the only hotel in the area that had a blue roof. Even a blonde like me couldn't miss it. Check-in went smoothly, and in no time I was given a key card and wandering aimlessly through the halls searching for my room. Room 204. I had to laugh to myself, as I'd been given the same room number as that of my apartment.

After much walking and seaching and getting turned around, I finally, finally found the room. Now damn it all to Hell if the keycard decided it didn't want to work. I ran the card through the slot, and the light lit up a pleasantly vibrant green.

Thank God!

I turned the handle and stepped inside. The first thing that my eyes settled on was one of the full-sized beds, neatly made with fluffy pillows.

Thank God!

Throwing the bags to the ground, I took off my coat, kicked off my shoes, and practically threw myself on top of one of the beds. My head sank into the pillows, and almost immediately I started to feel myself drift off to sleep.

Thank God...

000

DISCLAIMER!

I know. It really doesn't make sense. Trust me, in later chapters everything will come full circle.

So I did want to confirm a few things here, first and foremost being that the second portion of the prologue is a very accurate representation as to what my everyday life is like. The way Ben talks here is how he talks to me on a regular basis. We both agree that it's more fun that way.

Secondly, "Erai" was not a pathetic attempt at trying to cover my identity. That's the actual nickname I go by when I'm around Ben and Morgan.

And thirdly, while it might be hard to believe, I am actually this way in real life; everything from the obsessing, to the driving, to the raging. Why did you think I titled this 'Adventures with the Midgardian Fool'?

The first chapter is where things start to kick off, so stay tuned!

-BlueRaven 666