Chapter 3 : In Which Loki Befriends the World Serpent and Hitches a Ride
A/N: So, in all honesty, this chapter was supposed to be posted just a day or so after the last one, but I managed to slice my hand open on a pane of broken glass and discovered that it's pretty difficult to type with one hand immobilized by pain and sutures. But I pecked out this chapter with the other hand, because the response to this story has been so, so overwhelmingly wonderful, and I couldn't leave you guys hanging! Fingers on the non-mangled hand crossed that it'll heal up quickly, so I can type the next chapter at a speed that isn't so pathetically slow.
"You are not of the realm, False Mortal."
The words do register, but distantly. The majority of Loki's attention is taken by the monstrous figure poised above him, a serpentine silhouette against the setting sun. It is covered in scales of an indeterminate hue, blues and seafoam greens and deep purples dancing along the exposed parts of the creature to match the shifting colors of the ocean. The spine that Loki first saw is one among the ivory set that crown the crest of its great head. Larger spines trail down its back, following the curve of its sinuous body below the waves. Even shrunken down so greatly from their original size, the fangs that spill out from its mouth are each larger than Loki's entire body. Monstrous, perhaps, but undeniably magnificent as well.
"Nor," replies Loki, after some deliberation, "Are you." It is not the most profound statement he could have made, under the circumstances, but it seems to Loki the safest.
As it happens, that was not the safest thing to say. Three words, and the creature already looks ready to tear him apart. That might be a record for Loki, and he wasn't even trying. He watches as it begins to thrash frenziedly, massive body undulating in the water, flaring gold where it catches the sun just right. Fighting unseen bonds.
"I do not pretend to be what I am not! I do not belong to the world I inhabit, and I keep no pretense that I do!"
It is an oddly accusatory comment, suggesting knowledge this beast should not have – unless he had witnessed Loki change forms. That could be problematic.
"I am a shapeshifter. I can do naught but pretend. No form is more truly mine than any other." Which is not strictly true, but there is no reason he can't say so.
The serpent tosses its great head.
"I could swallow you whole, at this very moment, for you are small, and weak, and nothing to me. But if I desired, you could cup me in the palm of your hand and crush my body in your fist. These forms, and all between, belong to me. I am inescapable and invisible as I wish. But when I am vast as the oceans, and my body wraps fully around the seas that I may grasp my own tail in my own jaws, then I am Jormungand as Jormungand is meant to be."
The creature – Jormungand, apparently – holds his gaze, somehow calmed by this declaration, and something disturbingly close to pity enters the slitted eyes covered by clear, distinctively reptilian lids.
"But you, little changeling, you do not even know who you are. You taste of sky and frost and dirt and fire, and all of it a deception. You are formless and unmade. You are lost, shifter-child, and lesser because of it."
Loki allows a smirk filled with arrogance he doesn't feel to curve his lips.
"So great, so vast, yet here you are hunting down weakened, formless creatures in the ocean you claim your playground. Such power you hold, but you cannot harm me, can you? Not even here, in your own domain. You are bound." At least, Loki hopes he is. The consequences of insulting this being could otherwise be unpleasant.
He focuses this time, watching as Jormungand makes to lung at him only for the gold Loki had seen before to coalesce momentarily into bands that tighten around the beast. And, yes, Loki knows that seidr. He speaks before he has a chance to think, words spilling out without his habitual polish and giving away more than he intends.
"It seems, then, that we both have been wronged by Odin All-Father." He allows his own magic to skate over the binding restraining the serpent. Indeed, it carries the All-Father's signature, the scent of ozone and the tang of blood and the all the rage and hatred of a thousand battles with the same enemy, barely concealed in its shiny golden gilding. He can use this.
"He has cast you as the villain in his story, bound you here to this pitiful rock and rendered you impotent, has he not?" Loki doesn't wait for a reply. "It is because he fears you. He is wary of your capabilities, and he is not convinced he could stand against you should you one day rise against him. So he struck first, caught you unawares, chained you here aeons ago, and now you do not even cross his mind."
Reactions are always important to observe, infinitely more so when attempting to manipulate an entity physically more powerful than oneself. Loki settles back to watch the rage his barbed words should have unleashed.
"I am no villain, no matter what he believes. It is an unfortunate consequence of his bargain with Mimir that Odin One-Eyed only ever sees half the picture."
Loki blinks. There is no anger, no frustration, not even mild irritation. There is only calm certainty and far too much amusement at what was frankly a rather terrible pun.
"And that doesn't bother you? That he has decided for you who you are and will be, that he makes you suffer for the crimes he has decided you will one day commit?"
"I would destroy him for what he has done to me, but by doing so I would give him far greater claim over my existence than he already possesses. I do myself no favors by dedicating my life to vengeance against him. I only prove him right. My actions will never be such as to vindicate his."
Loki ponders this. He can see, almost, the rationale. If Jormungand freed himself and attacked the All-Father, failure and an early death would be the only prize for allowing Odin's past actions to dictate his future. More than that, such an attack would retroactively justify the All-Father's preventative measures – yes, the creature should be hidden, locked away, because look what happens when it finally wields the power that is its birthright, no, Odin was wise to keep him ignorant from the start. Loki is rapidly losing the battle to avoid drawing parallels to his own situation, but he doesn't want to think about that, so he focuses on being proactive.
The binding is inelegant, clearly the work of one with no innate talents in the arcane arts. To make up for inexperience, a ludicrous amount of power, far more than any proper mage would use, was forced into the spell to hold it in place. While the intent appears to be solely to prohibit Jormungand from inflicting any harm upon Midgard, the shoddy work is clearly obstructing the natural magic he must posses to slip between forms. Loki might yet twist this encounter to his advantage.
"Whatever your intentions towards Odin, I imagine his binding is still undesirable. And painful, I would venture." Loki takes the slight bob of Jormungand's head as a gesture of agreement, or at least acknowledgment of Loki's obvious familiarity with the spellwork. It probably isn't, but it makes him feel better to think so. He continues, "And as I find myself in need of transport to drier regions," he pauses to emphasize this with the sweep of an aristocratic arm, gesturing unnecessarily to their surroundings, "Perhaps we may be of some use to one another."
"You seem a malicious creature. I would not trust you to carry out any promise you make after you have obtained what you desire from me."
"It is of no consequence. You have given me no reason to mistrust you, so I am willing to perform my end of the bargain first, on faith." Lie. But he can do nothing, right now, that Jormungand does not allow. He turns as guileless a stare as he can manage to the serpent's eyes. "Do we have an accord?"
Jormungand hesitates, and the water churns with his indecision. Finally, he dips his head in a mockery of a bow.
"We have an accord."
It turns out to be easier than he expected to destroy the previous binding. Jormungand is rendered completely unresponsive the first time he tries to manipulate it. A fail-safe, Loki presumes, to keep the serpent from freeing himself. Currently, it works in his favor as it keeps the sea beast immobilized while Loki works.
After that, a few pushes in the right places, and the entire construct breaks apart into slender wisps of magic. It seems such a waste to let the untapped reservoirs of golden energy dissipate, but it is too different from Loki's own to make any use of it. Besides, the binding must be crafted solely from his own magic if he wants Jormungand tied to him. He might have neglected to mention that part when striking the deal.
It isn't so deceitful of him, really. Unless Jormungand works specifically to maintain it, the connection between them will fade soon enough as the binding settles and is able to maintain itself without being tied to Loki. The previous binding had been independent of its creator for so long that the All-Father wouldn't even have felt when it was destroyed. But this connection will last long enough for Loki to ensure that Jormungand delivers him to land.
The binding Loki crafts is more or less a lighter, simpler version of Odin's. The green bonds are less restrictive to the flow of the serpent's own magic, but otherwise serve the same purpose, preventing him from causing harm to this realm or any of its human inhabitants. Besides that, the only adjustment he makes is one unnoticeable to anyone but himself. In the heart of the binding, he weaves in a kill switch, of sorts. A self-destruct mechanism. He leaves one end of the binding loose, so if one were to tug upon it just so, the entire thing would unravel. He isn't quite sure why he does it, but it feels right.
And then it is done. Loki moves back onto the ice float that has somehow survived this entire ordeal, and waits for Jormungand to awaken.
Before collecting on his end of the bargain, Loki asks a question that has been bothering him since the creature first appeared.
"How did you find me? Why come to me, here, with all the seas at your beck? Why did I matter?"
The serpent stares at him as though he is a particularly slow child.
"You tasted of nothing, and everything underneath."
Loki frowns in confusion for a moment before realizing the problem. They are not speaking the same language, not even close.
Their communication is made possible by what is colloquially referred to as the 'All-Tongue' on Asgard. In all actuality, it is not a language but a rather fascinating product of seidr tied to each member of the royal family by means of a small rune. Few outside the royal household are aware of how it works, as Odin preferred keeping the secret of the All-Tongue from his own people to admitting that he practiced magic, however ineptly. Still, even the most incompetent being in the Nine Realms can slap together something useful, given enough time, and Odin had literally all the time in the world. The All-Tongue was less the result of careful craftsmanship by a gifted mage than it was the result of throwing magic at a problem until it went away. The magical equivalent of Thor's favored problem-solving strategy, basically.
Concisely, the purpose of the All-Tongue is to facilitate understanding between disparate groups by making each hear the ideas expressed in their own language, or the closest approximation thereof. Unfortunately, there are no words to express the sensations Jormungand is attempting to describe in the Aesir tongue.
But Loki is more than capable of manipulating the seidr to suit his needs. He reaches out and twists the magic attached to the rune that had been traced onto the hollow of his throat in ages past, and since then hidden by layers of illusion. If he cannot understand in words, perhaps he can feel what Jormungand is trying to express. He throws his consciousness outwards.
Then he is everywhere. No, not precisely. He is enormous, granted, but his awareness stretches far beyond the end of his physical form. He cognizant of everything touched by the waters he inhabits, omniscient in his domain. It is ever-changing in its entirety, but the elements that comprise it always remain the same. Until they don't. Until there is a hole, a wound, a void in his home. But it isn't, not quite, not completely. The emptiness is trailing from a creature, a being that has no definition itself, but is a slapshod construction of star and dust and wind and tide, a little of everything thrown together as though it is meant to form a cohesive whole. It is unlike anything that should exist in the Nine Realms.
It is, Loki realizes, tearing his consciousness from Jormungand's, himself. Loki, who is Jotun and Aesir and who knows what else as he wishes. Loki, the changeling with the emptiness of the void still clinging to him, whose most basic constituents were so unnatural that this sea beast thought him a threat. Just Loki.
As it turns out, he doesn't need to use the connection he created after all. Jormungand keeps his word.
"Some place small," Loki specifies. "Populated," because though he may prefer solitude, Loki cannot bear to condemn himself to complete isolation again so soon after escaping the void, "But cut off from the realm at large."
Jormungand would know such a place. Anything bordering the ocean is known to him, because the sea is an extension of the serpent like his magic is an extension of Loki.
He places a finger on the scale Jormungand identifies, because it isn't large enough to touch with more than that, and then the sea beast begins to grow. The scale with which he must remain in contact expands until it can fit his entire hand, then his arm, and then Loki has to latch on with his magic when his fingers can no longer reach the gaps between the scales to grip, nor find purchase on the smooth scale itself.
By the time Jormungand stops growing, Loki can't see the end of the scale in any direction. What he can see is land, not far from where he is standing in shoulder-deep water. The scale is a warm russet as it sinks back below the surface, perfectly matching the hue cast by the setting sun on the water.
Loki waits for the water to settle back into the normal ebb and flow of the tide in the serpent's wake, then begins to trudge inland.
So, three chapters in and we've yet to come the end of Loki's long (and, thus far, fairly crappy) first day on Midgard. On the one hand, this story is progressing really slowly; on the other, it's ridiculously fun to write. I swear we'll get to the bit in the summary eventually!
Fact of the Day: Mimir, in Norse mythology was the keeper of a well which granted great wisdom to whoever drank from it. Odin forfeit his eye in exchange for a drink, and the bargain is implied to be fairly common knowledge in myth-verse.
Really, I just came up with the pun while hopped up on pain meds when everything seemed funny and I wanted an excuse to use it. Even if it is awful.
Also, seidr = magic, more or less.
Next Chapter : In Which Loki Tries To Be Inconspicuous But Is Accidentally a Hero
… And also a missionary. Sort of. He really has no idea what he's doing right now.
