Hi everybody. I'm so sorry I kept you waiting. Real life things have taken over for a little while. And a new stoy that somehow couldn't wait to be written. These things can be so imperious... you just can't focus on anything but how you will make the characters' lives miserable next time... :)

For now, let's make Loki see the light of glory at the horizon... Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Loki, Thor, Jane et al., and I hold no rights to any of them. I do not make money from this.


+++ Chapter 9: History +++

A portal formed by Thought and Memory was a passage into a myriad of opportunities open to him who knew how to use them.

Loki still opted for Dwarfheim.

He had fooled Thor about many things during that past night, but he'd been true about his destination.

Finding Brock's study in the maze of tunnels was easy for the trickster, who never forgot a corridor he'd once walked or a place he'd been. The druid's staff would have made it easier still. But with Thor's stupid (no, not stupid. Actually, the big oaf had finally shown some consideration) – Thor's unexpected clever idea of holding on to the artefact, Loki had had to change his plans. They had never really included bringing Thor here, of course. All Loki had wanted to achieve was to avoid getting hit by Mjolnir or disabled in any other way, since he needed to stay in control of his magic for the journey. So that he could step off the raven merry-go-round and go in pursuit of his own purposes, when the moment arrived.

Brock had secured his door with an intricate pattern of spells and curses. Loki carefully broke them one by one. An iron lock was the only physical obstacle, and with all the magical precautions taken care of, it, too, snapped under the frost giant's icy grip. The room beyond was lit by veins of magically glowing quartz that weaved through the granite walls. In the greenish light, the druid's quarters looked just as Loki remembered them from his first visit: crammed with books and samples of minerals. Whereas Asgardian scholars kept specimen of animals and plants on their shelves, the druid stored stones: pebbles, nuggets, crystals, gems, fragments of rocks and vials filled with finely ground sand.

Loki moved to the marble desk, shoved aside the stone chair and sat on the floor, cross-legged. It was not comfortable to work like this, but it would do. There was no other place to go and undertake what had been on his mind from the time Frigga had entrusted him with the book:

Loki planned to rewrite his own history.

He had considered it whenever his enemies, his fever dreams, his visions, his brother had given him a chance for thought, and what he'd come to think was such: It might actually work.

Because as far as Asgard was concerned, dreams did foretell the future and whisper the truth about the dreamer's present, past and future. Visions had the power to turn into prophecies, which turned into reality, and fate was governed by three women living under the great ash tree's roots.

The humans could print and reprint the words, they could change the form and cast the verses in prose. But their books were nothing but reflections of the original spells; and the original spells were the ones collected in the Book of Asgard. The difference was in the magic that was locked inside the runes.

And magic was something Loki of Asgard could do.

Loki put the book on the desk before him and hesitated for one reverent second. The sacrilege of what he was about to do occurred to him and stalled his hand.

Sentiments, he told himself, and dismissed the moment with a sneer of disdain.

He opened the old pages and quickly found the bookmark where Thor's arrival in the humans' front yard had stopped him from reading on. It was a chapter in which his final punishment was described in detail. The cruelty of the images had haunted him in his visions and dreams. He read the passage now, and the malevolence still struck him as extraordinary, even for Asgardian standards.

'Three boulders, one to lie under the shoulders, one under the loin and the third under the knees... bound by my own son's entrails, and a snake keeps dripping venom in my face.' Loki shook his head and clicked his tongue in disapproval. 'Ye gods, who comes up with such stuff? Besides, I don't have a son called Narwi.' He stopped. 'None that I know of, anyway...'

He'd have to check on his lover, wouldn't he? Still, there was something fundamentally wrong with this prophecy. Sigyn was neither his wife (yet), nor particularly helpless. Rather than stand around holding up a stupid bowl over his head, she could be relied on to kill off the snake and find a means to undo his chains.

If she wasn't in a snit, what with him gone for so long without sending a sign of life. If she was, he'd better be on his toes (how ever that was going to work, lying down).

Got to send a note as soon as this is over. A... picture postcard. From New York.

With that thought in mind, Loki set to work.

Using a small, very sharp knife from Brock's set of writing tools, he carefully scraped off the writing. The ancient magic resisted. In silent voices it roared like a bear and howled like a pack of wolves. It reached out for his magical soul, tearing and slashing with dozens of immaterial yellow claws.

Dusting off the flakes of ink, Loki reached for the quill and began to fill the withered pages anew.

Soon, the alliterative verses spilled out of the quill, and the ancient spells themselves ceased their protest and seemed to listen up. For this was entirely new, bold and unheard-of. Never before had anyone dared think of Queen Frigga dying before her time had come. No dreamer had ever dreamed of her son, the Prince Royal of Asgard, asking his foster brother for his help in a fight that would allow the Jotun to finally reach out for the throne of Asgard...

Loki especially liked the fact that Thor would come to him to ask his help. His vision had not shown him the details, only that that was how it was going to happen: The mighty thunderer would seek out his foster brother, reluctant, and admit that he needed Loki to exact his revenge on his mother's assassins, his wisdom, his powers...

Loki wished he could've seen more of the surroundings which were probably his throne room on earth that the Chitauri army would secure him. But, well, even as a master magician you couldn't have it all, and besides - did it matter where that talk took place as long as Thor was humiliated and forced to swallow his pride like that?

Loki put down the quill, skimmed his writings and was thrilled by the drama. He placed his hand on the writing. Magic passed through it, locking the verses to the pages. The effort took more energy than he had expected. Well, he probably should have. You didn't just alter the ancient prophecies and take a breath and say, "So, that's how it's gonna be from now on."

You put your heart into it, and your passion, and your magical soul.

And when you had given all that you could possibly give, the spells themselves came to life and reached out and took more. Loki felt the pull, felt his heart skip a beat - then another – and for the first time, he almost wondered -

- he wondered...

Smiling, he turned to the door, 'And who would you be?'


The Lady Frigga sat at the desk in the back of Asgard's library. There was a book open before her, but her gaze was lost in the blue sky outside. She heard her visitor approaching her, but these were not the steps she had hoped for, and she did not turn around.

A familiar hand touched her shoulder.

'He has not come?' asked Odin Allfather, almost gently.

'I hoped he would,' said Frigga. 'I so hoped that Thor and he could sort out their past grief... make a new start, and then, with Thor speaking for him before your throne, my king...' She fell silent, leaving the sentence unfinished.

'That,' Odin Allfather said, sadly, 'would require a preparedness to plan not only into the immediate, but into the medium future that I've been waiting long for one of our sons to show.'

'Thor is a warrior, a hot-head, though I admit he seems to be changed,' said Frigga. 'But Loki - '

'Loki has his own way of living in the here and now,' said Odin. 'His goals are out of context, like a chapter in a book that has undergone significant changes without smoothing out the edges with the rest of the story. He still considers his ability to improvise an asset of ruling, when in truth, a successful ruler knows how to take the time and make solid provisions...'

'He did think of providing this time.' Frigga handed Odin a slip of paper. 'He left a message, sire, in the fabric of the falcon shirt that Thor has brought back.'

The king accepted the note and read.

' "I am sorry, my queen." ', Odin Allfather looked up. 'Five words? That's all he has to say to you, his mother?' He read again and frowned. 'And what is this "queen" address? He's never called you his "queen".'

'Five words can lay bare a soul, my king, past, present and future,' said Frigga and covered her face with her hands. 'He's not coming back.'


It was a dwarf, obviously. A young dwarf, still beardless, so that nothing hid the shock and surprise at finding the stranger in the druid's study.

Maybe it was the boy's open-mouthed wonder that stopped Loki from killing him instantly. Maybe it was the curious absurdity of someone so apparently weak and harmless wearing the impressive robe of a druid's apprentice.

'My name's Gullweig,' the dwarf introduced himself. He pointed his finger at Loki's hand that was still on the Book of Asgard. 'That's quite a bit of spell-binding you're doing there.'

'You can sense that?' Loki thought the boy's remark curious, considering the only thing magical about this dwarf had seemed his absolute innocence of everything and anything having to do with magic.

'I'm the master's apprentice,' Gullweig said, not without pride. 'And I figure you are the reason why this delegation of Asgardians came and asked to be taken to the master's study?'

'Delegation?' Loki frowned. So soon? Thor and Odin were not losing any time, were they.

'A handful of warriors and a druid of Asgard. They brought King Sindri tidings that the master is dead. And that there's an important book he's supposed to have sent here by magic just before he died. They want to take it back to Asgard, in the name of Odin Allfather. They had the master's staff with them, so I guess they are telling the truth and he is dead, after all. So, I decided to get here before them.'

'To do what? Hide the book from them?'

Gullweig shrugged non-committally. It was as good as a confession. But he looked somewhat covetously at the book under Loki's hand. If anything, the trickster was amused. 'Please, try and attack me. Try it now. I'd love to see how you would set about it.'

'Me too.' Gullweig grinned, 'Would I stand a chance?'

Loki grinned back, 'No, you wouldn't. I am Loki of Asgard.'

The dwarf's violet eyes widened, 'Thor's brother? Really?'

'No,' Loki snapped acidly. 'Not really.'

Gullweig seemed puzzled, then he smiled.

'That's alright,' he said. 'Go on, try and confuse me. I guess that's just what the God of Mischief would do, when he's on a secret errand for his brother and the Warriors Three.'

Loki controlled the tempting thought of putting the three-boulders-and-a-snake thing to the test on the young dwarf. Instead, he checked the spells he had bound into the Book of Asgard. The experiment had worked, his effort not been in vain. The additional verses, his contribution, had become part of the whole. He rubbed his wrist, trying to assess his exhaustion. His original plan had been to change a lot more, up to Ragnarok and his role (and, presumably, death) in this last great battle.

And, of course, the realization of his glorious purpose, the seizing of power over humanity.

But he realized that at the amount of energy it took to alter even a few lines, it would take days to add and change all the things that were on his mind. And he had run out of time: He could hear the Asgardians now, the familiar sounds of the Aesir language and dwarven voices, too. They were conferring about Brock's staff: Obviously, Odin Allfather's ambassador had promised the artefact to King Sindri in return for admitting the Asgardians so deep into his realm.

'If we want to save the book for ourselves we must hurry,' Gullweig said, urgently.

And suddenly, Loki knew what he had spared Brock's apprentice for; why he had not killed the boy as he appeared in the door.

'Listen, Gullweig. This is not the time for heroic deeds. Especially not for one so young and inexperienced as you.'

Gullweig looked disappointed, 'But I thought that maybe you and I together – '

'No, Gullweig,' Loki said, unwittingly using the same decisive tone of voice that Odin Allfather always used on his sons. 'Give the book to them. Make up a story to explain the broken spells on the door, if you have to. But don't tell them you've spoken to me.'

'Would they torture and kill you, if they knew you were here?'

'Should you be worrying about my fate, when yours might be so much higher at stake?' Loki's eyes glinted dangerously.

'I've already forgotten I met you.' Gullweig clutched the book to his chest as if it were a breast plate to protect him.

Loki stepped back and cast a glamour that would enable him to go unnoticed.

The warriors would take the book back to Asgard, and with any luck, Loki's version of the future would become canon, the foundation of a new fate. A fate in which he was to be the King of Asgard.

He watched from the shadows as the first Asgardian entered the room. It was a druid of Odin's inner circle. He was carrying Brock's staff. Loki fastened his eyes on the blue gem as if he could see his glorious future reflected in the glow. The mental powers of the Chitauri were very alien. For all his skills, Loki had encountered problems mastering the things he needed to know if he were to lead the Chitauri army into battle. Thanos had even grown a bit impatient of late. But this ancient artefact could serve as a catalyst. Thanos would remodel it a bit, then put his powers into the glowing stone so that Loki could use the magic of his own world to access and use it. Brock's staff would become Loki's scepter as he reached for earth domination.

All he had to do was take the staff away from the hand that held it now.

He watched Gullweig hand over the book and heard him stutter a little story about how he had forced his way into his master's study when the protective spells would no longer admit him after the old druid's demise.

A perfect exposition for the ghastly scene that was to follow: Gullweig, the druid apprentice, trying to defend his master's sanctum from the Asgardian intruders.

The faithful, yet inexperienced minion takes on the men he considers his master's enemies all by himself and gets himself killed in the process.

Fortunately, most Asgardians escape, taking the Book of Asgard back to Odin Allfather. But the druid's staff was lost in the scuffle... Did the dwarves take it? Are they hiding it now? Did the Asgardians break their promise?

Let Thor try out his new-found passion for no-bloodshed, no-secrecy approaches when the diplomatic feuds start. Loki did not feel it was any of his concern. He was busy devising his plan: He would use daggers of ice, of course. His own metal weapons would only give away his presence when found in the bodies. The ice daggers would seem like shards of crystal to the shocked onlookers when flung, then melt and be gone without a trace by the time the victims were brought back to Asgard.

The boy dwarf had moved aside. Loki sneaked behind him. There was something he needed to tell Gullweig; he had taken a vague liking to the boy and would not use him as a pawn in his game without letting him in on a truth he had only now recognized himself.

'Gullweig,' he whispered, no louder than a breath.

'Master?' the boy answered, keeping his eyes ahead on the Asgardians that were looking at the collection of rare minerals on the shelves.

'Listen and remember well: When you decide to mess with fate herself, talent is not enough.' Loki created the first icicle between his fingers. It took the spent sorcerer hardly any effort; the Jotun magic came to him as naturally as breathing. 'You have to forfeit your illusions, your brother, and, eventually, your very sentiments.'

'Master?' asked Gullweig, frowning.

'But if you pay attention to detail and use all the right tools – and use them suitably - '

'Master? I do not - '

'There will be casualties, Gullweig.' Loki's first ice dagger hit the Asgardian druid square between the eyes. It looked like it had come straight from the shocked apprentice's hands. 'Do what you must. But make sure you drive your point home.'

+++The End+++


A/N: So, that's the wrap for this story. Thank you so much for reading/liking. (I did a quick survey on Sigyn in Marvel archieves. But since we haven't seen her on the movies so far, I thought it okay to assume that Loki and she are not (yet) married. I mean, someone should have mentioned her, like "What are you doing, invading New York? There's dishes to be done, back home!" :) )

If you are interested... just as I hinted at before, I'm going to start another fic over at the "Avengers" section shortly (very shortly), titled "Marvelous Jobs". It has Tony Stark, Loki and Thor in it, and it is set just after the Avengers return from their Shawarma break. At first, Loki is peeved at life, the universe and (of course) Thor. But then the Chitauri are back to check on "what the ... " happened to their invasion - and slowly, Thor and Loki begin to realize that these are the last hours they spend together, before things will never be the same again... (if you think "ah, bromance", you're absolutely right :) ) I'd be delighted to meet you again.