It was a peaceful, quiet evening, the sun having long set, and the starlight sparkled like diamonds on the quietly rippling waters. A lone vessel pulled serenely into harbor, her lone occupant swiftly tying her to the dock. She wasn't one of the larger fishing boats tied at the dock, only a little sailboat, for small excursions around the sound.
Her captain was a young man, tall and lean, but not without the typical muscle from his family. A shock of rusty red hair flopped forward into his bright, grey-blue eyes, and his face promised mischief, but not so much so that he didn't seem untrustworthy. His name was Fafnir Vilison, and he was one of the few survivors of Thanos' attack on the Asgardian ship. He'd only been fifteen, at the time, but ten years had passed, and he'd grown to adulthood.
The people of Asgard had changed much in that single decade. While they were grateful to have a home, to have anywhere they belonged, they were no longer the proud, noble people of the golden halls and palaces from before Ragnarok. They were peasants; fishermen and farmers, and nobility soon found they had to learn hard labor, or starve to death. King Thor, Fafnir's cousin, was a noble and just ruler, however, he'd never gotten over Thanos. The poor man had lost everything. His friends, his father, his home, but most of all, his brother.
The late Prince Loki had been everything to Thor, and as much as he tried to be strong for his people, he was still suffering. It didn't help in the least, how the Trickster, were he alive, would have an enormous share in the treasury. No less than fifteen different people had claimed to be the long-lost prince, only to be obvious, or slightly-less-obvious imposters. It was pouring salt in the raw, gaping wound in Thor's heart.
Fafnir lingered on the docks, enjoying the calm, before he had to return to his home. All was still. Fafnir smiled softly to himself, and turned to leave, before the night was split by an enormous splash. Turning in confusion, the man peered through the darkness, trying to determine the source of the noise, and, to his horror, saw a figure thrashing briefly in the water, only twenty feet away from him, before slipping under water.
Fafnir's eyes widened, and he wasted no time in ripping off his boots, and diving after the poor soul.
It wasn't difficult to locate the writhing body in the frigid waters, and pull him up onto the dock. With relief, he noticed the rise and fall of the sodden man's chest, and began doing chest compressions. After a few seconds, the man coughed, and his eyes fluttered open. "Damn." Was the first word off his lips.
Fafnir wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that, so he simply sat back on his heels, and waited for the man to get his bearings.
He was tall, taller than Fafnir, but slighter, with delicate features, long black, or very dark brown – it was hard to tell when it was so sodden – hair tangled and clinging to his narrow face. For some reason, his entire demeanor spelled hopelessness, and frustration. "You saved me, didn't you?" He sighed, his long, pale, shaking fingers brushing the dripping locks from his eyes.
"Yeah." Fafnir nodded. "You should be more careful around the docks at night. Sometimes it's really hard to see where the end of the pier is."
The man didn't answer, only stared back out at the once-more calm waters with an expression of longing.
"Where do you live?" Fafnir went on. "I can give you a lift, if you'd like. It's not safe to be out here in the cold, especially not when you're wet."
The man only shook his head. "I'm not… from around here." He finally managed.
Fafnir held out a hand to help his companion to his feet, and he gladly took it. "I can let you stay at my place, for the night." He offered. "And we'll take you to your town in the morning. What's your name?"
The man was silent. Then: "I don't know."
"You don't know your own name?"
The man silently shook his head, as Fafnir gently guided him down the pier. "I go by Logan. It feels close."
"Logan…" Fafnir nodded. "You're Midgardian, then? Where have you come from?"
"Madhouse." Logan replied simply.
"And before then?"
"Another river."
"And before then?"
Another madhouse, another river, I don't know." Logan shrugged. "I don't know. I'm tired of it."
Fafnir clapped his new friend on the shoulder understandingly. "Hey, don't give up. It gets better."
Logan arched an elegant eyebrow. "Does it?"
Fafnir nodded earnestly. "How about you come back to my place, and we can warm you up?"
Logan only hummed his acknowledgement, so Fafnir walked with him through the darkened streets to his own cottage. Once Logan had been placed by the fire, and wrapped in a few blankets, Fafnir set about asking questions.
"So, you don't know your name." He said. "Is that memory loss?"
Logan stared miserably into the flickering hearth. "That's what they told me."
"You have an Asgardian accent." Fafnir noticed. "Are you from Asgard?"
"I don't know."
"How old are you?"
"I don't know."
Fafnir sat back in disbelief. "Well, what do you know?"
The mysterious man turned his emerald eyes to Fafnir, who was suddenly struck by how familiar those eyes were. "I just want to go home."
"Where's home?" Fafnir tilted his head.
Logan only gave him a deadpan look, then turned back to the fire.
"Okay, yeah, I get it." Fafnir chuckled. "You don't know. Have you any family?"
A silent shake of the head.
"Any friends?"
Another negative response.
Fafnir sighed. This situation was insane. An unknown man, unknown to everyone, including himself, suddenly dropped into his hands. Who knows? This could be a murderer, a psychopath, anything. But… the desperate look in his eyes was not the look of a depraved man. "I'll try to help you." He sighed.
"You know who I am?" A tiny glimmer of hope crept into the man's voice.
"No." Fafnir shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Then what's the point?" He turned back to the fire, hunching in on himself a little further. "I'm no one. Nothing. If I vanished from the face of the earth, you're the only one who'd even notice."
Oh. So that's why he'd walked off the pier. This was more serious than he'd thought. "Logan. Every life is worth living, even if you don't know where that life fits." He laid a hand on Logan's shoulder comfortingly. "Okay? We'll find a place for you."
Logan turned his wan face up, and in the firelight, something clicked in Fafnir's mind, only for a second. He knew that face. He hadn't seen this man since he was fifteen, but it was the very same.
But, no. He was dead, he'd been dead for forever. This couldn't be Prince Loki… could it?
He didn't even seem like royalty. He was so beaten down, so devastated… the Loki he knew would always hold his head high, even after he'd been defeated. But weren't they all a little trampled? "Logan?"
"Hm?"
There was a heavy pause. "Do you… feel cold?"
Logan looked up in confusion. "Well, no. I always thought it was…"
Fafnir's face split into a wide grin. Loki had never felt cold a day in his life. At first, they'd thought it was just a weird fluke, but later, they'd learned it was because of his heritage. If Loki was alive, this was him. "I think I know who you are."
*maniacal laughter*
TheOnlyHuman.