"Let us have a story," said Thor as he licked the last morsels of meat from his fingers. "A successful hunt must end with a good tale, don't you agree, brother?"
Loki nodded as he glanced around the cave they chose to camp in. "You ought to choose the story then, as it is your idea."
"But you always tell them much better than I do," argued Thor, tossing away the bones of his meal.
"How kind of you to say."
"Hardly," said Thor. "You say it often enough, I'm only repeating your words."
"Perhaps if you did that more often, we would have more time to spend on hunting, and less time spent in meetings."
Thor gave Loki a dull look. "It is your fault we suffer in meetings," he said blandly. "If you caused chaos less, the Midgardians might trust us more."
An owl cooed from atop a nearby pine, fluffing its feathers as icy air slipped around the cave and played with the dancing flames of their campfire. Perhaps this particular night had not been the warmest choice for their camping trip, but neither brother found themselves unduly chilled.
"A story then," said Loki with a measuring look. "Since you are so curious. Tell me what you know of Ymir."
Thor ran a hand over his beard and spoke slowly. "He was taller than the mountains and had two sons," he said, "But he did not want them."
Loki laughed. "Such is the plight of some fathers," his eyes crinkled as he tossed a log onto the fire. "Yet you are right. Two sons he had, though neither he named," he spread his hands wide around the fire, creating shadows atop the stone over their heads. Shapes crept across the bare rock until a wide mountain appeared, and beneath it, two men.
"Such familial ties would surely stitch a family close," said Loki. "Don't you think?"
"I think Ymir's tale is a tired one," said Thor with a wave.
"Perhaps this tale holds mysteries which evade you?" Asked Loki. "Though they have less cause to evade me."
"Speak then, Lie-smith," said Thor with a bored look. "For if this history is not tiring, I surely am."
Loki hummed and climbed to his feet. His thin fingers wove through the black smoke once more, trailing odder shapes across the pale stone. "Tell me then what more you know of Ymir, what became of him, and his bones, his brains—"
"His sons slew him in his sleep and built our realms out of him."
"How dreadfully cruel."
"Life for life," said Thor resolutely. "Had they not, we would have no realm to stand on and no home to sleep in."
"Had they thought of Ymir as prone to coveting his gifts?" Asked Loki. "He gave them life. If he gave life twice, surely he would give it again."
"But he did not!"
"He did, Thunderer," said Loki with bright eyes. "From forth the hair atop his head sprang Needle."
"Needle is no character I have heard of."
"Surely that's the point of the tale, brother," smiled Loki.
Thor frowned and watched as a third, slightly taller shadow joined the two men along the rock face.
"Needle saw no plot in her brother's actions," said Loki. "And departed them in her infancy."
"Then she had no part in the creation of things," argued Thor. "And is as nameless to history as the rest of our earlier ancestors."
Loki glared. "Nameless you call her, when her brother's suffered similarly."
Thor scoffed.
"Be patient, this story is by your request after all," continued Loki. "Needle is the source of all that comes before order and all that follows after. Her very essence sewed the star-spun tapestries from which she earned her name, and we, our stories."
Thor nodded in apology and waved at Loki to continue.
The three shadows split. One drifted into firelight and the other darkness. The third, hung hazily between.
"The first of Ymir's sons stole his father's blood and grew consumed by fire. From him came Son, who bore War-glad."
"Father," said Thor.
Loki nodded. "The second of Ymir's sons stole his father's breath and grew consumed by shadow. From him came Bark, who bore Cruel-striker."
"Farbauti," said Thor.
"One and the same," agreed Loki.
The images playing on the stone above their heads shifted, spilling light and shadow too quickly to follow until a golden city appeared at Thor's right, and a wine-dark city appeared at Thor's left, each showing the figure's ancestral homes. A tremendous battle bled between the two, swallowing each flicker of light and sweeping shadow as it spun.
"Centuries of disagreements soured their relations," said Loki as he watched the flickering stone. "War-glad would not rest until his realm encompassed all and grew gilded in gold, and Cruel-striker would not rest until he held equal treasure and equal power."
"I come into this story soon." Thor smiled.
"How like you, Thunderer, to know only of your own history."
"I know of yours as well, brother," said Thor smartly. "You will come at the end."
Loki smiled as well. "Share your part then," his fingers trailed through the smoke, splitting it in two and allowing it to fade into the cool air. "Illuminate what has yet to be said."
"War-glad took Cruel-striker's capital and lost his left eye for it."
Loki clicked his tongue. "How, brother?" he asked. "Cruel-striker defended his home for over a thousand years. Such endurance must speak to his skill."
"He made a mistake," said Thor. "He underestimated War-glad."
"You are half right as usual."
"I'm not half of anything."
"Hardly," laughed Loki. "You're often a half-wit."
Thor glared and crossed his arms.
"Oh, spare me your misery, brother," said Loki kindly. "Surely you know I am joking. Continue sharing your part in our story, for it's a part I know you well love."
Thor watched Loki with some suspicion but spoke before his silence grew too uncomfortable. "In order to foretell Cruel-striker's battle plans, War-glad consulted a seer from Vanaheim, but found the seer too lovely to leave when he ought."
"Only you, brother, could come forth from the very nature of things," said Loki. "Ever a consequence of pressure and heat."
Thor smiled. "Duty and love."
"You are sentimental," said Loki idly. "Though that cannot be said of Cruel-striker."
"He could never measure up to War-glad."
Loki shook his head 'no'. "In all things, Cruel-striker sought equality. If War-glad visited a seer, so too did Cruel-striker. If War-glad found fatherhood from such a union—" he fell silent and allowed his hands to drop against waist.
"Seer's from Vanaheim are few and far between," said Thor slowly. "And fewer yet were as powerful as mother."
"Seer's do not belong solely to Vanaheim though, nor is the future for their eyes only," said Loki. "And Cruel-striker knew of one who held similar skills and lived far closer to his home."
Thor blinked.
"His distant aunt, who had long since hidden among the stars."
The swirling battle of light and shadow slowed as the taller of the three figures within Loki's story darkened amidst bright spots of light.
"Needle was a seer?"
"Not in so many words," said Loki softly. "Her first talents came in braiding histories, and later futures," he said as several strands of his own dark hair glowed green and twisted into a series of ill placed knots. "Her passion was for the stars, and in the untangling and sewing of stories into fates. This was what Cruel-striker needed."
A wine-dark shadow crept up the mountain until it stood beside the hazy, taller figure.
"He demanded his aunt end his great tale with glory, and in return, he would gift her anything she desired," said Loki.
Thor frowned and sat forward in order to watch the shadows closer.
"Needle had few desires though, as she lived among what she loved best; her stars," said Loki. "She asked him what he could give that she lacked and Cruel-striker, seeking equality in all things, answered with the second of the two items he wanted."
"A son," whispered Thor.
A painfully small shadow bloomed with life overtop the stone. "Cruel-striker breathed into his palm with a long, slow exhale until a small, icy seed appeared," Loki mirrored the character's actions. "'This gift is life. It is made of the last of Ymir's breath.' he said before asking, 'Will it satisfy you'?"
A glimmer of green wobbled as it rose from Loki's palm and floated up toward Needle's shadow.
"Needle had long missed her father," said Loki slowly. "And could not deny how her heart leapt to see his gifts used to create life once more, so she agreed."
Thor shook his head worryingly.
"She swallowed the seed and took it deep in her belly, where it grew for many months," he trailed his fingers through the smoke, allowing the wine-dark shadow to fade away and the hazy figure to grow in size. "But Needle was clever," whispered Loki. "She knew better than to trust Cruel-striker's word, for she remembered the actions of her brother, his great-grandfather, and devised a plot of her own."
Light glimmered through the heavy shadow surrounding the hazy figure.
"She arranged the future just as Cruel-striker asked and spoke to her star-stitched sky, 'Should the babe be stolen from me,' as her father's life had, 'My every braid will come undone, and every stitch flow free."
"She would ruin her work?!" shouted Thor.
"Her stars would stay in the sky, brother," said Loki softly. "But their order, and their fates would be undone and become tangled together once more."
Thor rubbed his sweaty palms over his trousers and settled once more. "Go on," he said.
"When Cruel-striker returned, he asked after his glory and smiled to find it had been woven into the future, just as he demanded," said Loki as he brought the wine-dark shadow once more to the middle of the stone. "He looked to her round belly and smiled again to see the fruits of his labor—"
"He did none of the work!"
"But he believed he had," said Loki with a knowing look. "And he told Needle this, as the seed belonged to him, so too did the child."
"No," argued Thor. "He gifted her a son! That's a lie"
"Cruel-striker had not lied," said Loki. "He gifted Needle life; he did not gift a child."
The shadows bled together until the figures grew too difficult to distinguish.
"Cruel-striker cut into Needle's belly and took his child, only to find a babe who was far too small. He could not fathom how this infant could match in strength to War-glad's son when he hardly fit in Cruel-striker's palm, and so, believing the child's deformation to be Needle's fault, he slew her where she stood."
Thor's mouth dropped open as the hazy figure broke from the wine-dark one and split into multiple shadows before disappearing entirely.
"He spent a moment considering whether or not to discard the babe but decided that his equality with War-glad would make more sense with it, than it would without. He stole the babe from its one-time home, he made to descend the mountain, but found the steps had all disappeared," said Loki, sending blurry shapes around the wine-dark figure. "He changed paths and summoned a fearsome wind with which to ride home on but discovered that only snow came to his fingertips."
The light flickered over the stone, blocking off the wine-dark shadow's every exit.
"Without the wind to carry him, he leapt from the peak, trusting in the knowledge that if he leapt far enough, he would surely land on the ground, but he fell prey to a passing flock of kestrels."
"What is happening to him?" Asked Thor.
"The undoing of order," answered Loki. "Needle's curse undid the futures she wove just as she wanted, but she had underestimated her own strength, and unintentionally gifted her son with the ability to unstitch the very fabric of reality."
Thor turned his nervous gaze back toward the cave wall.
"This left Cruel-striker unable to find order in his realm. He could not command his army to collect him, as his infantry spoke everything other than a shared language. He could not order his city to defend itself, as its weapons transformed into schools of salmon and leather armors, rivers for its fish to swim in. Even the icy snow refused to obey its king. Instead of freezing and thawing with the seasons, it grew knotted mistletoe over the roadside and dogged Cruel-striker's every step," continued Loki. "Eventually, he laid the babe in the tangled mistletoe and sat for a time, bemoaning his misery. Needle had won, though she never lived to see it. However, in his bitterness, Cruel-striker dreamt up one last trick."
The wine-dark shape flickered across the stone and came to a halt before the great dark city.
"He could not be sure if this next battle he fought would be his last, but he doubted Needle's revenge ended with the creation of this disorderly child. He sent every message he could, demanding help through unconventional means, and though it took some time to work around the babe's chaotic nature, he succeeded.
"Loki—"
"He was well aware that War-glad knew of Cruel-striker's obsession with equality, and in turn Cruel-striker knew of War-glad's centuries long need to prove himself to be the better, rightful king."
"Loki, please—"
"So, in the final hour of the final battle, Cruel-striker abandoned the baby on a stone plinth." Loki flicked his fingers, causing the shadows to burst and cascade like rivers down the stone until the flat rock face remained, devoid of any movement. "He suspected War-glad would claim the babe for his own when he took the city, if only to take one more thing from Cruel-striker," said Loki quietly. "And in doing so, Cruel-striker enacted his vengeance. War-glad stole his own undoing."
Thor sat quietly for a long moment, allowing the fire to crack and pop in the silence. "He did not steal his undoing, brother."
"He did," said Loki. "He sought to establish order over every realm and what am I, if not order's undoing? I am an unwanted knot, left tangled in other's fates by a cruel needle."
The owl cooed again from atop a pine tree before taking off in a flurry of snow and feathers. An icy chill descended upon the cave, undeterred by the campfire as it blustered through the gaps in their clothes and danced in their hair. Were he home, Thor would likely be sitting with cheery friends, rather than amidst a dense silence, brought about by his own hand.
Thor shook his head 'no'. "I disagree." he said as he climbed to his feet and circled the campfire. "You said Cruel-striker sought equality with War-glad in all of his endeavors, so it must hold true that if War-glad sought a loving mother for me, by extension, so too had Cruel-striker sought one for you. Needle loved you, she would not have set her curse otherwise, and therefore must have wanted you."
Loki gave Thor a weak, flat smile.
Thor wrapped his arms around Loki and lowered them both to sit on the ground, where he bundled them together in the many blankets he'd brought for their trip.
"And how dull would it be to have your future arranged by another's hands? I could not bear to have my every thought stitched into neat, perfect rows. That is not my nature," said Thor with a kind smile. "There is a time for order, this is true—as true as my needing your help understanding certain things—but we would not know of order if not for chaos. Midgardians, though they may not speak of it aloud, must appreciate your chaos too, for they have more stories about the folly of decided prophecy than you or I."
"You are sentimental," said Loki as he tucked his head beneath Thor's.
"It's not sentiment," said Thor. "It's love, and it's a gift, one that refuses to be measured, weighed, and known, much like my Loki Lie-smith."
