After all, words are what remain when all the deeds have been done. Words can shatter faith; start a war; change the course of history. A story can make your heart beat faster; topple walls; scale mountains – hey, a story can even raise the dead. And that's why the King of Stories ended up being King of the gods; because writing history and making history are only the breadth of a page apart.

Joanne Harris (The Gospel of Loki)


Mother told me once that stories can be the most powerful of weapons. A good story can convince people of almost anything, even if it is a lie.

Sometimes, stories became legends and were perceived as truths.

After our first big hunt to the great white deer, they sang our feats for the first time during a feast. I was really looking forward to it, but in the end, the song was all about you, Thor. It was a song celebrating your bravery, your strength and how you saved your brother from a certain death. My feats were barely recognized and my idea of luring the deer into the cliff using me as bait was laughed at.

You were seen as the majestic eagle, catching the prey. I was the deceitful and chattering magpie, trying and failing to grasp the shiny prize that didn't belong to me.

I told you that I needed to rest and left the hall. I know that you tried to make them sing more accurately about the hunt, but in the end, you ended up staying and celebrating with your adoring crowd.

I hated you for not going after me. I hated all of them. I hate myself for not being good enough.

The pitiful magpie trying to turn itself into an eagle.

Mother went to me; she always seemed to know when my smile was fake. She told me a story that night.

She told me that magpies were wonderful, gorgeous birds. Chattering of course, and would attack like any animal, but they were most clever. Superstition and old wives tales had made people think of them as a bad omen and evil when that was not true.

"Keep on chattering, my little magpie. Don't stay silent," she told me. "One day, they will look at you and see your cunning and realize how stunning you truly are."


Two weeks later (not that it mattered to this Trickster)

In a space that wasn't a space, Loki, God of Stories, felt and heard a lot of things. In the beginning, there was nothing but the void, empty, silent and sterile. Then there was the beginning of things and the first story came to be as well, soon to be followed by uncountable others.

There were stories everywhere you looked.

The multiverse was nothing more than a library of stories created from the first book. Each universe was filled with stories that could be similar to the original or completely different. A new choice created a new event, this event created a new story. Change the choice, you would create an entirely different story. That was the secret of the existence of the multiverse, or at least it used to be before it was all (or virtually all) destroyed during the Incursions.

Right?

Not many people knew this, but no story ever died. It could be finished into a rewarding, wonderful ending, a tragic ending, a horrible ending, a bad ending that made no sense whatsoever, or maybe not even have an ending at all. One thing all stories had in common was that they all ended up in the same place.

Even the story that barely started in a book, notebook, a napkin, a fanfiction webpage, they all went somewhere. They were confusing, annoying and short but they did come to be.

All stories of all things went somewhere and that place could be reached through several paths. Not that many people, aside for this God of Stories, were that interested in then.

Loki knew that one day his story would end up in that place as well.

However, Loki was not thinking about his own ending at the moment. He thought about the little Loki from the universe known as Earth-199999 (terrible name, completely devoid of imagination). He had imposed parts of a chapter of his life onto his own, but considering that he was about to die and add one more tragic Loki Tale to the Great Library of Stories, he was rather pleased with his intervention. There were enough of those already.

Going through that Loki's past had been as interesting as gloomy and, to be honest, dull. He couldn't recall most of the details from his own story (that was the past and he was all about moving forward so why think about it?), but he did feel that this Loki's story was clearly based on his own.

That was the reason he gave him that story of himself to use as opposed to a miserable death on a forsaken moon. He didn't recall most of that part of his own story, or better yet, that chapter of Loki's life that had been left behind like all others, but he had deep feelings about it and he knew it could be a good story of redemption for this Loki to follow. Soon, the other people involved in that chapter of his life would start to show up as their tales intertwined into a good storyline.

Loki's green eyes closed as he looked forward. His story was brand new and there were so many stories out there, so many exciting…

There was jolt through his body. Loki stopped, looking around. The jolt had not been painful, but he was intrigued. Something had happened that was related to him, his story, his past chapters, now what could that possibly be?

Another jolt, this one more powerful. Still not painful, but the God of Stories' eyes, which usually never looked worried, finally darkened.

"No. He wouldn't…"

Another jolt.

"This was not what I wanted you to have!"

More jolts.

"Stop it!"

The God of Stories tried to move towards the place where everything was happening, but found out that he couldn't. He had no way to intervene and stop what the other Loki was doing.


Two weeks later (it mattered a lot to this Loki)

His in first childhood, Loki had to contain himself. If he couldn't be the warrior that Thor was, at least he tried to be the rational one. He used his head and tricks in order to defeat opponents when his weaker swordfight and smaller body could not. He stopped and helped Thor when they were in trouble. Loki was always the one who thought things through and avoided battle. In a way, he was the perfect second son.

He did so hoping to impress Odin in his own away. His cleverness was acknowledged sometimes, but it never gave him the love, attention and pride that he craved so deeply. Odin could be more level headed, but he was too much like Thor. No matter how much Loki tried, Odin would look right through him and never see him. Not when Thor shone so brightly, leaving Loki in the shadow.

His moth… Frigga had seen his potential. She had been the one to notice that he would never be as good of a fighter as Thor, so she approached him one lonely evening and asked him if he would be interested in learning Seidr, magic. Nevertheless, even that wasn't enough. It made him stronger and better at something than Thor, but he still wasn't seen except for when they mocked him for acting like a woman or an old man with no honor.

The only way Loki would get everyone's attention was through his mischief, which eventually led to his God of Mischief title. He pranked people for fun, out of spite or just because he wanted attention. He was reprimanded, but it was better than being ignored any time.

Nowadays, he had no reason to seek anyone's pride so he gave in into his mischievous nature with full force.

First, he watched all the movies he could find on his cable channels that resembled his favorite tales. He loved the Star Wars saga so he went to his computer and searched on the internet, Midgard's primitive open system of communication, for more movies with similar plots. When he couldn't find a movie that he wished to see on television he found there were several places on the internet that allowed him to either watch or download the movies. He proceeded to watch Star Trek, the Firefly TV show (too short for his liking) and respective movie, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and the Hobbit, several movies by a company named Disney that seemed more focused on children's tales but were still entertaining. He then watched The Wizard of Oz, The Harry Potter movies, Princess Mononoke, Shrek, Howl's Moving Castle, How to Train Your Dragon, Pan's Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, The Nightmare Before Christmas and many, many other movies and TV series.

He spent the previous two weeks looking for more movies and TV shows to watch, that led him to try to listen to their soundtracks and then other styles of Midgardian music, which in turn led him to search more and more information about his current home.

Loki's first realization was that he would have hated to be the ruler of Midgard. These people were mad, close-minded and found offense with everything. He really should have researched more about the Realm before accepting to conquer it, though one of the biggest reasons he had accepted it was because Thor grew so found of the tiny planet and it would be the perfect way to spite him.

How was he supposed to rule a planet that still couldn't accept that other people had different skin colors, religion or other sexual orientations? The humans would have drove him madder in months.

Still, he could see now that there were somethings worth preserving in Midgard and he had to give credit when credit was due. They created the most wonderful tales, the internet was far more diverse and entertaining than it's equivalent on Asgard, which was mainly used for communication and information. Food was not so bad either and he had already created a list of Midgardian possessions that he had seen on television that he wanted to have.

Maybe being stuck here would be not as bad as he thought initially. At least he could have some fun. Baiting humans on internet forums with deliberate offending messages with one account, then refuting the same comment with another was enjoyable as he saw them bicker and fight each other over the stupidest things. As always, he reveled in chaos.

Another pastime he had recently acquired was drawing the other Loki in the worst way he could, which wasn't exactly a challenge since he would only draw on his computer since didn't have paper or pen on the apartment.

He still feared his other self, but he had also come to deeply despise him for his cruel words, his obvious sense of superiority over him and his meddling.

"Damn you, you toothless, hairy goblin! I hope you step on glass... or a Lego," he boy spat to a very ugly drawing of the God of Stories in his computer screen. He deleted the picture, searched for a particular video and placed the computer on the kitchen table.

"I am Loki, of the Realm of bad Fanfiction," he mocked by trying to imitate his other self's voice. "And I am burdened with horrible oral hygiene."

Deciding to forget his meddlesome other self, Loki opened the fridge and picked the right ingredients for his breakfast. He had various levels of success with cooking before and he had researched thoroughly for the perfect eggs and bacon recipe. He was not going to fail again.

"Hel! Hel-ity, Hel! HelHelHel-Hel!" Loki yelled as he picked up the burned bacon and oil from the smoking frying pan and tossed everything into the sink. The entire apartment was filled with smoke and the stench of burnt fried food.

He failed again.

After trying the cool down the frying pan, Loki glared at the computer screen and the video titled "How to Cook Bacon: Foolproof Way to Achieve Perfection". He was sure that he had followed the instructions closely and yet his bacon always ended up burned into a crisp, or with soggy and fatty strips.

"Foolproof way, my ass!"

Did he add too much oil? Should he have used a cold frying pan? Had he taken too long to remove the bacon from it? Had he placed too much bacon on the pan at once?

Quickly, Loki did another online research. Apparently, he failed for doing all the above.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath as he tossed everything to the already full trash bin. Now he was out of frying oil and bacon, and eggs, and most of his food supplies. Plus, the apartment smelled bad.

He was so looking forward to eating it too…

Pouting over his ruined breakfast, the little God of Mischief walked out of the kitchen and sat crossed legged in front of the television. He had a big problem.

His food supplies were all but gone; his trash bin was so full and reeking so badly that he dreaded to have to go near it and now every inch of the apartment smelled bad as well. He couldn't even open a window since they were magically locked.

He had finally cleaned the bathroom and his bedroom and washed his clothes, but he had no place to dry them and so they made a puddle of water in the floor. Plus, they were all wrinkly and there were stains that he could not remove no matter how hard he scrubbed.

How he missed his magic. It was frustrating to know what spells to use, how to make things so much better, but being too weak to use them.

In addition, even if the cursed door finally opened, what could he do? He had no way to buy food or other supplies and stealing would be too risky when he was trying to stay unnoticed for as long as he could. He needed to find a way to get money in this world.

The solution came to him quickly. It was dangerous and unpleasant but it was all he could think of at the moment.

He pulled over the rug from his living room, picked up a bottle of ketchup and started to write the forbidden rune marks on the floor. The first time he had tried this particular spell, he had followed the instructions from the banned tome of the dead and used his own blood. He found later that all he needed was any sort of red substance.

Why did all the books regarding death use such ghastly methods when easier solutions were less painful and just as effective? Some scholars were either really found of the macabre or preferred it to such an unfit way to use forbidden paths.

Well, if something were easy, anyone would do it. However, somethings were so easy to do that no one believed it to be true in the first place.

One of those things was opening a gateway to Helheim, Land of the Dead.

Loki cleaned his dirty fingers on a napkin as he watched the black gate form in the middle of his living room. He tried to remain calm and composed, but he was more than a little scared, especially now that his body and mind were that of a small child.

It took all of his courage not to flinch when Hela, Goddess of Death, appeared in front of him.

"Greetings, Lady Hela, Queen of the Dead. Thank you for attending my call and allowing me to enter your Realm," Loki kneeled, trying to sound as confident as his now childish voice allowed him. "I am most honored to be in your presence once more."

Hela stared at him apathetically, her expression unreadable. The Goddess of Death was as beautiful as she was frightening, with her green, silk dress and her majestic dark crown that covered to top of her head, except for her piercing emerald eyes.

"Loki," she said plainly. "You are young."

The boy stood up and faced her. "Indeed. I have faced… setbacks on my travels. It is the most peculiar of tales…"

Hela raised her hand. "I have no interest in your tales, trickster god. State your intentions."

"Ah… Yes, well… I summoned thee, Lady of Death, to ask for a favor."

"A favor?" she asked. "If you have summoned me again because you want to go to the Valhalla, my answer is still no."

Loki had asked Hela repeatedly to allow him to go the Valhalla plains and meet Queen Frigga while he was still on the throne of Asgard. Hela had declined every time; Helheim had rules and allowing the living to meet the noble slain was forbidden.

"I have a different request, Queen Hela," Loki said while trying to ignore the twinge of sadness in his heart. "I have summoned you to ask for access to your libraries."

Hela blinked, that was all the emotion she showed. "My libraries? The Great Libraries of Helheim?"

Loki nodded. "I need to use them for a while, my lady. I need another source of knowledge as my magic has been severely diminished. I also need access to the Golden Room I created when I was there the last time, the one where you gracefully allowed me to store my gold and riches. Grant me this and we will be even."

Hela stared at the regressed god in front of her. Many centuries ago, Loki had given her the cloak of virtue, whose magic properties allowed her to retain a healthy appearance instead of the half-decayed body she really possessed. She had known Loki would use this favor to gain something from her in the future and so she had been waiting for the most despicable of requests. Access to her Libraries was a tame request to what she had been expecting.

"Very well," she said finally. "I will accept your request, Trickster. You will have full access to the Great Libraries of Helheim for as long as you wish, as well as your Golden Room. Consider my debt repaid."

Loki beamed at her. "Thank you so much, my lady."

Hela turned around and waved her hand for Loki to follow her.

Helheim was a different realm. As the Realm of the Dead, a neutral realm, it stayed out of the affairs of the other Realms. Not even the King of Asgard had any power over it.

The place was quiet and dark, surrounded by the cold mist from Niflheim and it's nine rivers, under a dark-blue sky with no stars. Hela's Palace, however, was a thing of dark beauty and greatness, filled with gold, silver and jewels, delicious food that no mortal should ever eat while alive.

The Palace's walls were made of a dark stone that shone different colors when someone walked by, there were gold and silver runes written all over the walls and floors, which possessed great power to keep the Palace impenetrable, everlasting and protected.

Since death was as ancient as life, no one knew when the Palace had been created or when Hela had become it's ruler. No one had bothered to ask her either.

Loki followed the Queen of the Dead through the palace's corridors and stairways. He guessed that had been the first time someone entered the Great Palace of the Dead wearing a Darth Vader T-shirt and barefoot.

"Humans on Midgard are truly peculiar," Loki babbled, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. Since Hela had not told him to shut up yet, he took it as a sign that he could go on. "They kept some of our tales, but they were terribly changed or misquoted. I blame most of it on the warriors that were sent there over the last two thousand years. Never trust a bunch of drunken warriors in search of glory when it comes to storytelling. They took way too many liberties to make themselves look better. I mean, you wouldn't believe what they told about me."

"Fascinating." Hela answered impassively.

"I mean it, my lady. They even believe you to be my daughter."

Hela turned around and stared at him. "Absurd."

"I know, right!"

When they approached the Great Libraries, Hela opened the tall doors with a wave of her hand. The place was seemingly endless, with books, papers and every sort of written knowledge placed neatly in it's dark bookcases.

"This is where we depart, Loki," she told him, ready to leave and attend to her usual duties. "As I said, you are free to use the Library for as long as you wish, as well as your Golden Room. You may leave and enter using the usual rune marks. Needless to say, you are not allowed to roam free around my castle or my realm. I will have none of your mischief here."

Loki bowed down. "Of course, Queen Hela. Thank you once more for your time and your hospitality. You are the most graceful of all queens."

Hela glanced at him for a second and turned away, closing the doors behind her.

Now finally alone, Loki ran through the silent library until he found his Golden Room and opened it using a small rune that he had invented.

The room was his secret safe for all the treasures and belongings he thought he shouldn't keep in Asgard. The gold and jewels came in handy now that he was stuck on Midgard with no money. He would have to think how to convince anyone to buy them to a child like him though, but he would think of that later.

He grabbed a bag that was enchanted to hold everything inside, his own personal Bag of Holding, and threw some of his treasure inside along with several objects that could be of use and some paper to finally write something back at the apartment. When he thought he had enough, he walked out of his Golden Room, closed it and decided to pick up some magical tomes from the Library to take with him to his apartment. There were a lot of magic that he needed to learn and the Library of the Dead had everything, though he knew he had to be careful. All books had magic of their own.

No story ever dies…

They all go somewhere…

Loki looked around. He though he had heard something.

There is a story everywhere you look…

Even mine, even yours…

There is a place where all stories end up…

Loki walked down a particularly dark corridor as if pulled by something invisible. The bookcases were devoid of books here and he could feel an air current in front of him. At the end of the corridor, he found a staircase and at the end, a green door.

Walk through the path, little one… Your story waits…

Loki opened the green door and walked into a world of light. He had to close his eyes due to the brightness. When he finally opened them, his mouth fell open.

He was not on Helheim's Great Library anymore. He was in another Library entirely.

The place was… green. Everywhere he looked there was green. The walls and floors were made of green marble, there were green bookcases up to the very high green ceiling, filled with, what else, books from all shades of green.

This is the place where a particular story always ends…

You know in your heart which one…

Loki didn't take long to figure out which person these books were about. His damn name was written in the skyscraper with golden magic shinning under a dark sky full of stars. All the books had his name written in the book spine, with either golden letters, black letters, silver letters, shiny green letters…

"What… what is the place? How did I end up here?" the boy asked, looking and finding no one else in the library. "Elder self? Are you here? Is this your doing? Show yourself!"

The God of Stories didn't answer. Loki walked back to the door and was relieved to find that it was still open and thus he could leave this strange place.

How can you turn away? These are your stories. The stories of Loki.

How can you leave and never know what lies in these books?

Loki's self-preservation screamed at him to leave and forget this place, but he knew that he could not. If his own life had been based on the stories of other Lokis, then he had to know more.

Follow your heart, little god…

Listen to the story that calls out to you…

The books were not quiet. They screamed and whispered as he walked by them. He heard his own voice more than once, screaming or cursing. He could even feel the scent of burning flesh, fresh blood or decay. He never tried to touch one the books, his whole body shook with fear every time he walked through another one and heard, what he guessed, was that story's Loki terrible end.

Is this what waits me in the end? he thought, repressing his tears. Am I always doomed to a terrible end after a life of always being the one who loses and fails?

A single tear ran down his cheek as he passed through another book, hearing his own voice screaming with agony and fear. He could barely make out the words "I'm sorry, brother."

There is hope for you yet… Follow your heart…

Loki stopped at the sound of a silence and two words spoken by a child's voice. "I win."

Here… This is it…

Loki looked at the book and recognized the subtitle written under his name. They were the same words left by his other self on that post-it note.

"Journey into Mystery."

With his hand trembling, Loki reached out for the book and took it out of the bookcase. In the cover, he saw a preteen picture of himself with his hands up.

This is the path you must chose…

Loki opened the book on the last page and was swallowed by the exclamation point.

"Ouch!" he whimpered as he landed on a dark realm surrounded by green flames.

As he looked around, the flames opened and he saw his horned helmet, or at least a variation of his helmet, on top of a pedestal. More surprisingly, was the preteen boy sitting in front of it, staring at him with interest.

"Hello!" the boy smiled despondently. He was wearing Asgardian clothing, though a bit old fashioned with his black cowl and small circlet on his head.

Loki could see clearly that he was another version of him.

"Are you… Loki?" he asked, moving cautiously towards him.

The preteen laughed.

"That is a dumb question, is it not? If you are here and I am here, then it's obvious were both Loki," he stared at Loki for a while. "I was not expecting to find another me younger than I am. But then again, I was not expecting anyone at all."

Loki stopped at a safe distance from the other Loki. So far, his experience with other Lokis had not been happy, so we was not ready to just trust this one, even if he was just a kid.

Still, there was something different about this Loki. Something warm and pure that was different from the other stories he had walked through.

"What is this place?" Loki asked. "How did I get here?"

The preteen Loki smiled. "You opened the book. That was all it took. Now you are in my story… or at least in a chapter from that world's Loki story."

"You mean the one who came to me and meddled with my life? The so called God of Stories?"

"I'm sorry. I do not know what happens beyond my ending," the other Loki answered. "Are you sure he was a continuation of my story?"

Loki thought about how this boy's book whispered to him. He didn't believe in coincidences. "I think so."

"Was he… was he evil?" the preteen asked, his green eyes darkening.

"I don't know. Define evil? He said he was trying to help me by giving me a part of his story. So far, he tricked me into becoming this young and losing my adult mind. Oh, and he locked me up in an apartment on Midgard."

"Does he have a body? And power?"

"Yes. He's way more powerful than I used to be. Why?"

The other Loki beamed. "Oh! That does not sound like him. If that Loki is trying to help, then that is definitely not him. I guess his story reached its end too."

"Him?"

"Ikol, the magpie," the boy spoke with hints of anger in his voice. "My minion and my opposite. An echo of a scream. My past self. The one who killed me."

Loki blinked, confused.

"Sorry. I am getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you from the beginning."

And so, the preteen Loki told him his story. He told him how Thor had missed him and brought him back to life after the old Loki died in battle and his first days in his new life as Serrure. He told him about going back to Asgard, meeting Ikol, that was a pale spirit of the Loki who perished in magpie form. He told him about hiding the Worldheart, about meeting Leah, his best friend forever, about Thori, about fighting the God of Fear, fighting Nightmare and the Fear Lords, saving Thor from being forgotten and replaced, how he helped save the Dísir, his quest with the Manchester Gods, how he aided Thor during Asgard's battle against Surtur and finally how he was led into giving up his body to Ikol.

Loki listened carefully, fascinated by the other Loki's tale.

This is the moment…

"And that's how my tale ends. I am done, I am gone. Ikol stole my body and I am gone forever. My story is over now."

There were threads of green uniting both boys. Unknowingly, they moved closer to each other.

"I guess this is why we have met. Let us go then," the other Loki said softly.

Follow the path… this is story you must choose…

Loki felt almost in a trance. His finger were mere inches from the other Loki.

Take the story and burn it in your heart… start anew…

Follow the path…

Loki blinked and pulled his fingers away. The other Loki also seemed confused.

What?

"What's wrong?" the other Loki asked.

"What was about to happen? Was I… was I getting your story?"

"Ah… I am not sure, but I think that was what was happening. I just felt… compelled into giving it to you."

Loki crossed his arms around his chest and glared at the horned helmet. "He's interfering. This is him again. The God of Stories. He wants me to take your story into mine, as if neither of us as any choice on the matter."

The preteen seemed confused. "Is he that powerful? My future self?"

"Apparently," Loki answered bitterly. "He may not be evil and his intentions might be good, since you are by far the best version of myself that I have encountered in this library, but he is manipulating me into following the path he wants."

"Perhaps… I admit was feeling in a sort of daze myself."

"Yes! Me too. We are both being led through his strings. That annoying, barefoot goblin!"

"You are barefoot too."

"That is not the point! Who does he think he is? It's not right." Loki turned around and started pacing around the fiery room, after a while he faced the other Loki again. "What do you think?"

"Me?"

"Yes!"

"I am but a record. My story is over and I am gone," the preteen looked down. "The book is closed and this is my ending. There is nothing I can do about it. If you take me with you, it could be an improvement."

Loki stared at the other boy, deep in thought. He could accept his story and probably make it a better one, a happier one, but…

"What is it that you want?"

The other Loki gaped. "What?"

"What do you really want? Is it coming with me? Is there something that you want more?"

The preteen stared at him with unshed tears. "What I really want… is impossible."

The younger godling moved closer. "Why?"

"Because what I want… is a different ending," the other Loki revealed, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I want… I want to live. I want to be with Leah and Thor. I want to go home and stay with them forever. But I cannot. That is not how my story ends and it is useless to wish for something I will never have."

Loki stared at the other boy, his usually hollow heart began to ache for this other version of himself. But there was nothing he could do, was it? What power did he have over stories?

The same as everyone else.

Moving swiftly, Loki opened his bag and after searching for a bit, he grabbed golden pen and paper before sitting down on the floor and starting to write.

"What if…"

The other Loki wiped his tears on his sleeve and walked towards him.

"Tinier Loki, what are you doing?"

Loki went on writing. "I am trying something. Who says stories have to stay put? That God of Stories? The Universe? This story is a story about Loki, so why shouldn't Loki change it."

The preteen gaped in surprise. "But that is impossible. You can't change my story. It was already written with an ending and purpose."

"Not change it, but give it another ending. A "what if" setting, an alternate ending that the reader can choose to see as canon or not. It happens on many other stories. Why should yours be any different? Besides, we do not have anything to lose."

The other Loki remained silent. He had changed the story of the Serpent, the God of Fear, once, but giving it another ending was completely different. He was sure it was impossible.

"There. Here is just a draft. What do you think?" Loki handed the paper for his other self to read.

"What if…

Leah burst into the fiery room the moment Loki's teeth were about to pierce the magpie's flesh.

"Stop!" she yelled, her dress all but rags, her hair unkempt and her face wounded with a long scratch. She looked as fierce as a warrior. "Do not do it, you idiot! Or I will kill you myself!"

Loki stared at her in shock. Not only she had returned, but she was also carrying two objects. The book of his story that had been given to the Teller to consume and the Fear Crown."

The preteen smiled, deep in thought. "Its… it would be good if it happened. How did Leah gain the book and the Fear Crown?"

"Instead of being sent into the Deep Past, Hela could have sent Leah to retrieve the objects. They didn't need to tell you anything, so your elder self would not know."

The other Loki nodded and looked at the page fondly. "That would be good. Leah is as scary as she is bright and strong. She would save me if she wished to."

Both Lokis looked in disbelief as a golden stream of magic moved from the page to the side. The green flames moved aside and the golden magic created something on a wall. It looked like a doorframe.

"What is that?" Loki asked.

The other Loki laughed and beamed at the other boy.

"You are truly brilliant, tinier self!" the preteen handed the paper back to him. "Can you continue?"

Loki grabbed the paper and faced his other self. "I have no idea what I did, but if you want to continue you got to help me write. It is your ending after all."

"With pleasure, teenier Loki."

"Oh! And will you stop calling me that?"

The preteen laughed and sat next to him. Together, they went on writing the alternative ending. As the words composed the story, the door on the wall became more and more defined. The path was built, since no story truly ever dies and is never ever finished should the reader wish so.

Once they were done, the door shone brightly on the wall as the page disintegrated on their hands into tiny golden particles and drifted to the now complete gate. The preteen Loki stood up and walked towards it, hope and fear mixed in his gaze.

"Did we do it?" Loki asked, also standing up.

"I know not. We have built something, but I have no idea what this path will do to my story."

Loki stared at the gate. "It is your choice to take it or ignore it. Either way, it is done."

The preteen Loki nodded and grabbed the younger one's hands in a firm grip. Green eyes met green eyes as they faced each other.

"Thank you."

The room began to shine as the preteen walked slowly towards the new gate. Loki felt the light pull him upwards, to the outside world. The reader was gone.

Inside the story, the preteen Loki took a deep breath as he stood at the threshold. He felt a summer breeze, heard the sound of rustling leaves and the scent of Asgardia's gardens. Far away, he heard Thor's characteristic loud laugh.

Smiling, Kid Loki walked through the gate into an eternal summer day. Leah faced him at the top of a hill, near a giant oak tree.

"Loki Laufeyson, where have you been?"

He laughed and grabbed her hand.


Loki felt on the floor of the library. In front of him, the book he had held shone brightly as it drifted back into it's rightful place in the great bookcase. He could have sworn he heard laughter.

I do not know what I did, but that Loki is probably happier. I left my pen inside it though.

Standing up, Loki looked to his right. There was another book right next to Journey into Mystery. After that, the bookcase was empty, as if waiting for new books to fill that Loki's story. This was the predecessor to the God of Stories.

Walking cautiously, Loki moved closer to the next book and read the subtitle under the Loki name.

Ikol

Like with the other books, Loki heard that Loki's final moments. A quiet sound of something burning, a female voice far away and his voice saying: "Let's be something new!"

There were no whispers telling him what to do. Just his curiosity about the Loki who had paved the way to the God of Stories and a strange sense of kinship towards the book that he could not describe.

There was sadness and regret in that story, but there was also hope.

Slowly, Loki grabbed the green tome and turned it around. The cover was that of a magpie flying in front of a young man.

He opened the book in the last page and was again swallowed by the darkness.


This chapter ended up being way bigger than what I had in mind. I hope I did a good job with it.

Comic!Loki is not a villain in this story, or an antagonist. He's not evil, but he is acting as a force of opposition towards MCU!Loki by trying to impose a part of the story he saw as best for him. MCU!Loki may not agree with that decision and do a few choices of his own. He is not a passive character.

Now is AoA Loki/Ikol's turn.

Please tell me what you guys thought. This is the first time I wrote meta-fiction.