Summary: When a new player comes into the field, Odin decides to sell Loki off. But nothing goes as Odin wanted and the Master of Death changes the Universe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or Harry Potter.
Warnings: Future Slash, slaves, and more to add later. Don't like? Don't read.
Previously
When the prisoner saw the Fallen Prince, they knew that everything would change, but if it would be for the better or the worse, no one could know and certainly not them. They could only pray for forgiveness.
Now
Dear Master of Death,
We of the Nine Reals would like you to invite you to attend a great Feast that we shall hold in your honour. The Feast shall be held in the Realm of the Aesir; Asgard. It shall take place in a week when the moons are at their fullest and starting to take their place in the sky.
We are hoping that you would grace us with your presence and that we shall see you on the Feast.
With kind regards,
The Representatives of the Nine Realms.
Harry read and re-read the invitation again and again. After he had read it for the twenty-sixth time, he started laughing uncontrollable. When he was finally able to breath normally again after laughing so long, Harry crumbled the invitation is his hands and threw it on his desk. Standing up from the chair he was sitting in, he paced around the room while mumbling to himself.
"Only now… you would think … sooner…"
"Nine Realms… Representatives… my honour…"
"Possible trap… Underlying reason… what if? Yes! That's it!" Harry jumped up and called out; "Death! I am in need of your help."
Normal people would call each other crazy when someone would call out for Death, but not Harry Potter. Oh, no. He could just call out for Death and no one would bet an eyelash. That had multiple reasons. The first was that he was Harry Potter, nobody was surprised when something weird happened around him. The second was that no one was around anymore. The third was that Harry didn't care anymore about others. Why should he? He did his job and now he wanted to be left alone. Especially after the 'job' he got some… interesting abilities. He didn't ask for them. Truly annoying, but sometimes, like now, they came in handy. You could list even more reasons, but Death does get impatience sometimes.
Death was exactly as told in story's, myths and legends. Death wasn't exactly as told in story's, myths and legends. You know how no one knows how an angel looks and the many descriptions they have? Of course, everyone has a general view of angels, but who knows if that is right? The same goes for Death. Death is a man and a woman. Old and young. Short and tall. Ugly and beautiful. He has skin and he doesn't have skin. The list goes on and on and on and on and on and… well you get the point.
The conclusion is that Death is everything and nothing, Death is endless, Death is Garry.
"For the last time, I told you that I wanted you to call me Garry!" Death said with a groan. "Truly there is nothing more awful than be called 'Death' all the time. My name is Garry. Do you understand?"
Harry just blinked.
"Right… Garry. I am in need of your help," Picking up the invitation from the desk he gave it to Dea... Garry. "I believe that this is some sort of a trap, maybe not a trap trap, but certainly a trap. If you understand what I mean."
Dea… Garry took the invitation from Harry and studied it. "Hmm. It seems that you are right. I believe that I know what is going to happen." With that he laid the invitation down again and sat in a throne like chair that wasn't there before.
"So?" Harry asked. "What is going on? What is going to happen?"
Garry ticked his chin with his fingers while he seemed to ponder. "Hmm, no. I shall not tell you what is going to happen," Gary stood up again, "I will give you one tip. The Allfather shall give you a choice, you can make it very hard for him. Good luck and until next time.'" And with that, Garry aca Death disappeared. Only to be seen by those who just died and were throwing a tantrum because they 'weren't death'. Truly, those people are the worst.
Shaking his head, Harry sighed. Death always had a certain way of dramatics. Whatever would happen. It truly was annoying, but unfortunately Harry couldn't do anything about it. It seems as if he should go to Asgard. How lovely.
How is it possible that they tell everything that is needed to know in such a sort message, but they didn't tell how to go to Asgard? Was he just supposed to know how to go there? Apparently, they expected that from him. He will think about that little thing later, first he needed to decide what he should do and most importantly, he needed to decide what he should wear. After all, he needed to make a good impression, he wasn't the Master of Death for nothing, wasn't he? Probably something black, dark and mysterious. He had a reputation to uphold after all.
Harry chuckled; the Aesir could never predict what was going to happen.
Pain, that was the only thing that went through Loki's head. Pain, pure, unadulterated pain. He couldn't speak anymore and even if he would try, they would just hurt him, again and again. Letting out a sob, Loki resigned himself to his new life. If these few days could already be so awful, then he didn't have to know how it will be with the Master of Death, for Loki had no doubt that he would end up with him.