A.N.: I think I have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with that Loki in his cell scenario. I have already written one story that starts in his cell, now this one starts there, and I have another one planned and half written.

Anyhow, this is my version of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (so... not mine) with Marvel characters (also, obviously not mine).

I've first had this idea a few years ago after reading "Loki's Christmas Carol" by Sarah1281 and started writing, but gave up after the first chapter. Last week I discussed A Christmas Carol with my students, and felt inspired to continue. Hopefully I'll be able to finish this before Christmas and upload a chapter each day until then.

For now, read, enjoy and review :)

Loki was reading a book. Not at all unusual. These days he had little else to occupy his restless mind with. For almost a year now he had been living - if one could call it living - in solitary confinement in Asgard's dungeons. A prisoner.

He had been a king – now he was a prisoner. Every time he thought about it, he felt as if his whole body was set on fire, burning with hatred for Odin and Thor. He despised them for their betrayal and their lies. For making him think he was one of them; making him believe he could be just like them if he only tried hard enough. For not accepting him when he failed to meet their impossible standards. For making him think he had a family and was loved when he was not. For making him believe he was something other that the monster that he was, for making him think he was worth something, and for rejecting him when he finally realized the truth. For fighting him. For putting him in this wretched cell. The hatred burned so intensely, at times it consumed all else and coherent thought ceased.

He put the book away, more forcefully than necessary, and glowered at his prison walls. The magic surrounding them was strong. Loki knew. He had tried to find a way to escape as soon as he was deposited there, but soon realized that he could not. Moreover, the cell also prevented him from using his magic as he pleased, suppressing it. This oppressive magic seemed to be everywhere, pressing down on him, making his chest feel painfully constricted, at times threatening to overwhelm and drown him.

Loki rubbed his fingers together, feeling a small rush of magic emanate from them, perhaps enough for the simplest of illusions, but little more, which only added fuel to the burning rage within him. After they had taken everything from him but his magic, they went ahead and took even that from him.

But as he glowered at the prison walls, he noticed that something had changed. The room seemed darker, even more bleak than usual. And colder. Was his mind starting to play tricks on him?

His eyes darted to the guards, but they did not seem to notice anything was amiss. Was it really just his imagination?

But no, the temperature was clearly dropping. Only a bit at a time, but soon it was cold enough for Loki to see his own breath.

Loki got up from his bed and looked about the room. He observed frost creeping up the barrier of his holding cell, and a pitcher full of water, which his mother had organized him, began to freeze.

Panic began to well up inside of him, but he was not yet willing to call for the guards; not yet willing to admit how truly help- and defenseless he was in his cramped-up cell.

The room grew darker as well, and it seemed like a heavy fog was collecting on the ground, seemingly coming out of nowhere. What was this? An attack? Thanos perhaps?

What if the temperature continued to drop until it forced his body into his Jotun form? The panic grew so overwhelming, his stomach was in knots and the growing pressure on his chest made it difficult to breathe.

Foggier yet, and colder. Piercing, searching, biting cold.

Then, out of the fog, stepped a woman, more beautiful than any woman Loki had ever seen. Her hair shimmered like silver, her eyes shone a deep crystal blue. Her beauty, however, did nothing to calm Loki. How did she get into the cell? Why were the guards not reacting?

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice sounding more poised than he felt. To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of a terrible sensation would be untrue.

"They call me Urðr," replied the woman, her voice calm and cold.

A nervous laugh escaped Loki's lips. "Urðr? Right…"

"You dare laugh at me?" she hissed.

"I am - quite obviously, I might add – hallucinating," Loki replied evenly.

The panic he had been feeling slowly eased as he realized that his imagination could do him no real harm. And surely this could not be anything else. He let his gaze wander to the other cells, the other prisoners, then the guards, but none seemed to pay him any mind. If they had not noticed the strange presence in his room, then it was mostly likely because he was the only one seeing her.

"I assure you, I am not a hallucination," she replied coolly.

"Rrright," he drawled. "It is far more likely that one of the Norns is paying me a visit than that I am losing my mind."

"So, you have heard of me?" she asked, either not noticing or simply choosing to ignore the sarcasm in his last statement.

"Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld – the most famous of the Norns," Loki replied, "of course I have heard of you. You spin the threads of life, cut marks in the pole figures and measure people's destinies. You are always present when a child is born and decide its fate."

This was so ridiculous, it had to be a hallucination. Loki studied the woman in front of him, but then his gaze fell on the book he had been reading earlier. He picked it up, considered throwing it at her, proving that she was in fact not truly physical.

"Do not dare mock me," she said. She stepped forward, took the book out of his hands and hit him on the head with it. "I am here, and I am real." Then she dropped the book on the bed and took a step back.

Loki rubbed his head. The pain was real enough, but how had she known what he had been thinking? Wasn't that just further evidence that she was something his mind had come up with?

"You don't believe in me," she observed.

"I don't," he agreed.

"What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?"

"I don't know," he replied. As the Norn associated with the past, he could of course ask her questions about his life, but answering them correctly would not prove that she was not merely a hallucination. Moreover, there was absolutely nothing he could ask her that his mind could not answer just as well as Fate itself could, and even if there were, in his cell he had no way of verifying any new information she provided him with.

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

Loki laughed, "If you truly are who you claim to be, you should know that I am known as the God of Lies. I could cast illusions before I could walk. Even the body you see before you is a lie." All good humor left him at that thought. "I know that those who spend a prolonged time in solitary confinement sometimes start to… hallucinate… I just never pictured it happening to me.".

She shook her head. "You always think yourself so special, when you really are not."

Apparently, his mind was turning against him, insulting him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed.

"Arrogant and easily offended," she shook her head. "You think you are superior to everyone around you, which really is not the case at all."

"Clearly," growled Loki, "or else I would not be stuck here." He glared at her. "If I am of such little consequence, why visit me?"

"My sisters and I are able to see and influence destiny-"

"So, all of this," he gestured around him, "is your fault?"

"-but not on as grand a scale as you mortals seem to believe," she finished her sentence curtly, glowering at him. "Do you always blame others for your mistakes and failures?"

"Mortals?" scoffed Loki, choosing to ignore her question.

She sighed. "You do have such a thing as free will, which limits our ability to influence certain events," she continued. "But we are able to see the past as well as every possible future, and what we have seen worries us greatly. Ragnarök. Death and decay. The end of Yggdrasil is upon us."

"And what, pray tell, does this have to do with me?" Loki asked. He hastily added, "your mighty Goddess," when she glared at him.

"We have decided to influence the course of history. Avert this tragic fate. It is yet possible to do so. We identified you as a key factor in the events that have and will unfold, and we plan to keep you from following the path you are treading on."

"But I thought I was inconsequential," Loki replied dryly. Ragnarök? The end of Yggdrasil?

"I never said you were inconsequential. You are treading a path that will lead to your own destruction, and to those of many others. But it is not yet too late to avert such a fate."

"Ah, so you are here to show me the errors of my ways?" Loki asked, rolling his eyes. Perhaps not a hallucination, then, but a particularly sophisticated illusion? Sent by the All-Father to teach Loki something? He rolled his eyes. How very creative.

"In a way," nodded the woman.

"I think I'd rather not," Loki said, sitting down on his bed.

"You do not have a choice," she said, stepping forward, touching his forehead before he could stop her.

"What the-" Loki jumped up. He was about to say something to this "Urðr", but he stopped himself when he realized she wasn't even looking at him. He turned around to follow her gaze. On the bed, was – and he was sure that this was not possible – him. It was rather disconcerting.

"What have you done?" he hissed.

"Nothing that cannot be undone," she said. "Now, follow me." She stepped through the barrier of the cell as if it were not there at all.

Loki was skeptical, but with little else to do and the possibility of escaping this hell presented to him, he tentatively reached for the barrier, finding his hand able to pass through. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and stepped forward.

When he opened his eyes again, he was not on the other side of the barrier. No, as he looked around, he only saw a barren wasteland. The cold hit him instantly, making it hard to breathe. It was colder still than it had been in his cell.

Loki gulped. He had a very bad feeling about this. "Where are we?"

"What do you think?" She walked towards what looked like an old temple. Somewhere far away, Loki could hear what sounded like a raging battle.

He hesitated to follow her. "Jotunheim," he finally whispered. Not really a question anymore. Somehow, he knew.

TBC

What do you guys think? What events of the past will Urðr show Loki? How will Loki react? Let me know with a review :)