The Allfather will freely admit, that he isn't omniscient (even though he wishes he was).

But that doesn't change the fact, that he is aware of a lot of things.

He is aware, that a lot of the worlds' evils are his own fault.

He is aware, that he has started most of it.

He is aware of the mistake he made in his treatment of Angrboða and her children (ah, the beauty of hindsight!).

He is aware, that he was the first to ruin the brotherly bond he and Loki once had.

There is no denying, that he is guilty.

"Óðinn! My children! My little ones! My boys and my little girl, they are gone! Where are they?! Where are my children? WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? GIVE THEM BACK TO ME! GIVE THEM BACK! GIVE ME BACK MY CHILDREN!"

Loki's anguished and hysterical shrieking rings in his ears to this day.

But it's too late now, too late to rectify the mistake he has made. Even if the trickster's baleful brood chose to forgive him (and Óðinn isn't stupid enough to think they ever could or would), freeing them and bringing them back would still be too dangerous.

That's why they must be kept away from Asgard and Midgard.

Óðinn knows, that Loki will never understand this, but he has to prioritise the well-being of several entire races over that of three monstrous, insanely powerful children – especially, if those children are destined to destroy the existing world. Jörmungandr encompasses the entirety of Midgard and Fenrir is as large as the mountains of Utgard. Hel equals him in power, but never in his life has he seen such dark, unhallowed magic contained in one little girl's body. It would be impossible to keep them in Heaven anyway; they would destroy everything without even wanting to, way before Ragnarök is scheduled to happen.

He couldn't allow that to happen.

Fate cannot be avoided, but he'll be damned, if he won't do anything to postpone it!

Of course he has regrets, but he only does what must be done.

As the Allfather, it's his duty to protect those he rules over.

If he is a war monger, it's because he needs warriors for Valhalla. Warriors, who will face and stop the troops of Hel, when Ragnarök comes.

If he allows his son Þórr to slay as many giants as possible, it's to ensure that enough gods will survive the Fate of the Gods to make the world anew and not commit the mistakes their forefathers made.

If he does nothing to prevent the death of his dear sons, of nearly his entire race, of many others as well, it's because the cosmos needs to die, before it can be reborn.

And most of all … if he used to keep Loki Laufeyjarsón close to him, it was to keep a better eye on him.

That and because he couldn't imagine life without his wily blood-brother.

The fire giant has been family to him the moment they met – they had been soul friends.

He knows, that for the other it is … used to be the same.

Loki knows him so well, only his beloved companion Frigg knows him better.

Even today, Óðinn sees the fire giant as his brother, no matter the terrible things they have both done to each other.

The Allfather grieves for his beloved twins. Everybody knows that.

But he also grieves for the first friend he ever had, wishes that he could have spared him his fate. Nobody knows that, except for Frigg.

However, it's blood for blood and both of them have always known this.

Of course he knows, why the trickster has done all of it, why there is no going back, why he will never be forgiven.

He knows, that behind the other's nonchalant facade, hatred has been boiling for a long time.

But Óðinn is a dutiful ruler – he will always put the world and its people first. Because he loves them, even those who aren't his flesh and blood. He isn't called the "Allfather" for nothing.

When it's the well-being of a few versus that of trillions of creatures, there is no room for dispute.

The world, despite all the evil in it, is still beautiful and full of splendour and goodness and it gives him joy, because he is the one, who made it (and his brothers, but they are gone forever, they will never come back).

It's too early for all of this to die.

And if the price for preserving it is his former best friend's love, then so be it.

...

Loki is a lot of things.

Forgiving is not one of them.

And Óðinn would be a fool, if he believed, that Loki would ever forgive him.

Yes, the trickster knows, that he lost all sympathy when he murdered Baldr and consequently brought on the death of Höðr.

But Óðinn is the one, who started it!

God of wisdom and knowledge his arse!

The Allfather should have thought of the bullshit that would happen, before he banished and mistreated Loki's eldest children!

Binding Fenrir, who only ever wanted to be accepted by the gods! Flinging Jörmungandr into the goddamn ocean surrounding Midgard and allowing Þórr to nearly bash his skull in! Literally sending Hel to Niflheimr! Using Sleipnir as his steed, as if he was just a regular horse! And don't even get him started on the fact, that he is currently chained to three rocks and has a snake above his head, dropping acidic venom onto his face. And this isn't even the worst of it: the chains he is bound with are the entrails of one of his sons! They turned Narfi into a wolf and made him tear apart his own brother – before killing him too and using Nari's guts to bind their father! The guts have turned into chains and are magically enhanced; it takes a lot of magic to bind the wily trickster.

Loki doesn't even know how long he has been bound now and he feels the last shreds of his sanity slipping away. He would have lost it a long time ago, if it wasn't for his faithful companion.

Raising Sigyn to unconditional loyalty is the one thing Óðinn has done right.

But apart from this, the Raven God has fucked up big time. Like, really big. Bigger than Fenrir and Jörmungandr and their size is mind-boggling.

The fire giant isn't just in physical pain.

He is consumed by hatred, wrath, hurt, lust for revenge … and heartbreak.

Sure, he brought his own torment upon himself, he won't deny that.

But that his beloved children had to pay for his mistakes, is more than he can bear.

The Sly God weeps once in a blue moon, but when he does, he has a lot of tears to shed.

He weeps for his children, for their fate. For his wife and her lot. For his own fate and because of the pain he's in.

For the good times, the unique bonds and friendships he once had, when he was still counted as one of the Æsir.

And for the amazing adventures he, his blood-brother and his friends went on, the crazy things they went through, the fun they shared … the laughter.

What he doesn't shed is tears of remorse; he doesn't regret bringing the twins to the pyre, not for one second! It has been done and he would do it again!

He did it for revenge, which Óðinn definitely knows.

He did it out of hatred and spite, which Óðinn obviously also knows.

He did it for other reasons, which Óðinn will never know and Loki will never tell.

Óðinn will never forgive him for the death of his twins.

It's a certainty Loki can trust in.

The trickster doesn't blame the Allfather, because the feeling is absolutely mutual.

Loki will never forgive.

Never.

...

He feels the Allfather's presence, before Sigyn opens her mouth to address him.

"What brings you here, my father."

Her tone is cold. Yet she still calls him her father, because she is kinder and more forgiving than Loki could ever be.

From the corner of his eye, he catches her lift a questioning brow at the intruder.

As the tall, black-haired and one-eyed Raven God comes into view, Loki can't see anything more than his silhouette; it's dark in the cave.

But he can see, that Huginn and Muninn are perched on his shoulder as always.

The fire giant projects his inner heat unto the surface, until his skin is gleaming like red-hot metal and his long red hair turns into liquid fire, illuminating the cave. Sigyn takes a step back to prevent her dress from catching fire, but leans forward to still hold the bowl over his head.

Now he can see the Allfather's face clearly.

He scoffs: "Oh my, my, my! What a surprise to see you here, my dear brother! Have you been yearning for me? Have you finally decided, that you can't live without me and come to free me?"

What he means is: You have quite some nerve showing your face here.

Óðinn's expression and tone are blank, as he responds: "Keep dreaming, Laufeyjarsón."

"Was worth a try", Loki jokes and would have shrugged, but he can't move his shoulders.

Óðinn catches his daughter and the trickster by surprise, when he opens his cloak with his free hand, revealing the big bowl he has been hiding underneath. It's full of golden apples and bigger than the one Sigyn is holding above her husband's face. He carefully takes the apples out of it and puts them onto a nearby rock, before turning to her.

"Your bowl is nearly full", he tells his daughter, "And you're tired. Go and rest a little, my child. I will be here for a while and what I have to tell your husband is confidential."

Sigyn's eyes narrow and they have a little staring contest, until she finally gives in.

The Raven God holds his bigger bowl in place of his daughter's and his face is grim, as he stares down onto his former friend's grotesque visage.

The trickster used to be drop-dead gorgeous in his regular chosen shape.

Now he is almost skin and bones and his skin is scarred from struggling in his chains. His once beautiful face is disfigured by the acidic poison dropping onto it, when Sigyn has to empty her bowl.

"As you can see", Loki rasps cynically, "Several millennia of wasting away in here haven't made me prettier."

"Your outside is almost resembling your inside", Óðinn retorts. "Add long fangs and claws and then it's perfect."

The Wolf's Father laughs – a balking, guttural, forsooth blood-curdling sound (so much unlike the silvery snicker the Allfather used to know).

The one-eyed god wonders, how it's physically possible for a being literally born from primordial flames to have such a frigid laugh.

Then again, there is nothing Loki can't do.

"Nothing is impossible", the trickster used to say and indeed, it has always seemed to Óðinn, like there is no obstacle the other cannot overcome. It used to inspire the Raven God, encouraged him to push his own limits, to go further and further, to where no one has never been. The shapeshifter has always been so good at motivation … it's one of the things Óðinn once liked – no, still likes about the other.

Of course Loki recognises the look in the Allfather's silver grey eye.

"Thinking of the old days?"

"Good times", Óðinn recalls.

He and Loki look deep into each other's eyes and they know, they're thinking the same.

They miss those old times.

They miss each other.

But neither will say it or allow himself to be truly nostalgic. It would rip them to shreds.

The old days are gone, they will never come back, they can't be brought back and the bond the Allfather and the shapeshifter once had can never be repaired.

They are not the men they once were.

Their vengefulness towards each other is really all they have left now.

Deep melancholy hovers over them, as they reflect on this.

Then Loki huffs: "What do you want, Óðinn?"

Of course Óðinn notices the thinly-veiled hostility, but he doesn't comment on it. It's not like he can fault the other for being hostile, after all.

"Talk", he answers bluntly.

Loki's eyes narrow.

"Talk", he echoes flatly. "Talk. You chained me to three rocks with the entrails of my own flesh and blood and expect to have a civil conversation with me."

The fire giant is this close to erupting, but if he did, the cave would collapse and kill them both.

So he takes a deep breath and decides to humour his former blood-brother.

"Fine. What do you want to … talk about?"

"Just the old times."

This angers Loki so much, that he struggles violently in his chains and flares enough to nearly set the other's clothes ablaze.

Óðinn looks unimpressed, but his ravens shift nervously.

"If I were you, I would watch that fire. After all, I am currently holding a bowl over your head."

"And you expect me to be grateful?!", the shapeshifter hisses. "How dare you – how dare you show your face around here and expect me to want to talk to you about the past?! After all what happened since then! You … you …"

Before he can spew out insults, his strength leaves him and he collapses back onto the rock with a groan. Being bound and tortured here for ages has weakened him considerably.

His flames grow dimmer and dimmer, until he is back to his disfigured godly form and the cave is as dark as before.

Óðinn shakes his head and uses his free hand to conjure a small ball of light to illuminate the place.

"I hate you!", Loki growls weakly.

The Allfather chuckles: "Something else, that's not new?"

"Go to Helheimr!"

"After Ragnarök."

"I hope my son will chew you thoroughly, before he swallows you!"

"Wolves can't chew, Loptr."

"Fuck you, Fenrir isn't like other wolves!"

"No, sadly not."

They fall silent for a while.

When Óðinn is sure, that his now enemy is calm enough, he asks: "Do you remember?"

How we met?

Loki looks at him tiredly. "Everything", he breathes. "I remember everything."

"Me too. I had just given my eye to drink from the Well of Wisdom and gained the runes by hanging myself from Yggdrasil."

"I found you lying unconsciously on the ground, after you fell off the tree." A quiet chuckle. "You looked really nasty. At first I thought you were dead, until you groaned. Then I wrapped you in my blanket and carried you off to my shelter."

"And when I woke up, I was all patched up and you were sitting by the fire, humming to yourself. When you noticed, that I was awake, you told me how you found me. And when you asked me what happened and I told you, you said that I was a fool."

"I still think you're a fool – more so than ever, dare I say."

"We're both fools. We always were."

"And then you told me about yourself", Loki continues, "You told me about your brothers, Vili and Ve. How they stabbed you in the back, because you can do magic. And you told me about your parents, Bórr and Bestla and the frost giants and how you made Midgard. And … and you shared your knowledge with me, even though you didn't even know my name yet. And when I asked you, why you were telling me this, you said …"

"'Because I'm lonely and you're the first person I've spoken to in a while'", Óðinn smiles. "You told me about your family too. About your little brothers, Býleistr and Helblindi and your parents, Fárbauti and Laufey. And you told me that your grandparents are Surtr and Simnara. At first I didn't buy it, but when you took your fire giant form, I was dazzled."

"Because you had never seen a fire jötunn before", the other recalls softly. "Tell me, Allfather; have you met any others, since you met me? You never visited my grandfather?"

"No. I'd rather not talk to someone, who can lay whole worlds to ashes with a swing of his flaming sword."

You're both fated to destroy the world. That seems to run in your family.

"Coward. My grandparents are not that bad. Well, aside from that, of course!", Loki giggles. "Grandmother is still waiting for me to come pick up the sword I left with her."

"Charming. I bet Heimdallr will be impressed by your shiny sword."

That's pure sarcasm; Múspellsheimr will freeze over, before anything impresses Heimdallr.

Loki cackles: "I wanted to use it on you, but my dear son Fenrir called dibs on you. And how could I possibly say no to him, after what you have done?"

He stops laughing. "If I had known this, I never would have offered to be your brother. I never would have mingled my blood with yours. The promises we made to each other …"

"I remember", Óðinn tells him softly. "Of course I remember."

"Do you?", Loki questions doubtfully.

The Allfather doesn't blame him for not believing it.

So he quotes: "'I, Óðinn, shall be your brother, not by flesh, but in blood and soul. I promise to support you, to protect you from danger, to help you in need, to trust you unconditionally and share my secrets with you. I promise to let you share in my joy, to share your burdens and ease your grief. I will accept no food or drink, unless you get your share as well …'"

"'… And your wife will be a sister to me and your children will be mine and I will love them as such'", Loki finishes. "You remember that part too, don't you?"

"Of course I do", the Raven God replies sombrely.

"You were the first to break the vow", the trickster croaks. "How could you, Óðinn? You promised me … you promised me! When did you change your mind about treating my children as your own? The moment you saw them? The moment the Völva told you about them? The moment you realised how powerful they were? I always treated your children as mine, up until you pulled that crap!"

"Loki, you didn't seriously expect me to keep a serpent, who is big enough to encircle motherfucking Midgard and a wolf as big as the mountains of Utgard in Asgard, did you? Just a kind reminder, Asgard is much smaller than Midgard."

Loki glares hatefully. "That doesn't excuse your treatment of them! You flung Jörmungandr into the ocean like a broken doll and betrayed Fenrir, who only ever wanted to be respected by you! He would have been on your side, I know he would have! And Hel! You tore her away from me and banished her to the other end of the cosmos! Did you really think that her being a queen would console me anyhow? The only of my children you treat well is Sleipnir and that's because he's useful to you!"

"You're wrong", Óðinn cuts him off. "I'm kind to Sleipnir, because he is as much of a son to me, as he is my steed. Granted, it's easier, as he's far more docile than you, but that's not the point. As for Hel, she is fine. Were I to see her again, I would treat her as my equal. But keeping her in Asgard was too dangerous too. Do you have the faintest clue, just how dark a magic she contains? Too dark and too much to safely keep her around. And she is more attached to the dead than she is to the living. She has a position that suits her and in the netherworld, she could learn to control her power without hurting anyone. She has a crown and subjects who adore her-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!", Loki roars, and his voice echoes through the whole cave, "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TRY TO EXCUSE, WHAT YOU DID-"

"Silence!", Óðinn bellows in his most domineering tone and the other's mouth snaps shut.

Then he continues more gently: "I'm not trying to excuse anything. I know, there is no excuse. Do not believe for one second, that I'm proud of what I have done. I too have my regrets, Laufeyjarsón."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?", Loki laughs scornfully, "Are you fucking apologising?!"

"No. Just setting some things straight."

It's too late to apologise.

"You killed my twins."

"You killed mine first", the black-haired Asa points out. "You couldn't expect that to have no repercussions."

"Nari and Narfi were still children. They never did anything to you."

"Baldr and Höðr never did anything to you either."

Loki scoffs: "Come on! I did not kill Höðr. It was your son, whom you sired for that purpose, because you couldn't put the kid out of his misery yourself. Tell me: does Vali know, that the Blind One was his brother?"

"He does", Óðinn answers calmly. "I told him a few years afterwards. When he was old enough to understand."

"You chose to educate him after he committed fratricide? Priceless!"

"Big talk coming from the Fire Jötunn, who tricked my blind son into doing that very thing. It didn't surprise me, that you brought Baldr to the pyre. I know, why you did it. You were envious, spiteful and vengeful and you wanted to hurt me, like I hurt you. I understand that. And perhaps I could even forgive it, because we both know, that my dear son is happier where he is now. But what you did was even worse. You knew that Höðr loved his twin more than anything. He would rather have died a thousand deaths, before hurting his brother. You should have seen him, after he realised, what he had done. You have broken him and stained his hands with blood. That was insidious and evil. Why did you do this?"

"Because I couldn't stand him!", Loki snarls icily. "I hated him, just like I hated his twin! I hated, that he was your spitting image. His entire demeanour, even his aura and personality were so much like yours. I couldn't stand looking at him! But there is another reason, why I did what I did. Do you want to know?"

Óðinn is tempted to take the bowl away and let the poison drop onto the other's face.

But he manages to keep his composure.

"I'm all ears."

"I did it, because they both had to die."

"Had they?", Óðinn questions coolly, "I didn't kill your children, until you killed mine. I mistreated them, but they are alive and more or less well. Remember when you told me that to get even with me, you would have had to kill Þórr, Viðarr and Hermódr as well? Sorry to say it, but you're wrong again. If you wanted to get even with me, the appropriate thing would have been to kidnap them and lock them away somewhere. But not to kill them. It's true, my grandchildren didn't deserve to die. But neither did my children. Especially not the way they died."

"I know", Loki responds with strange calm, "I know, that they didn't deserve it. But I had to cause their deaths, to teach them the meaning of suffering, before they could become like us."

Óðinn's eye widens at these words, as an epiphany strikes him. Of course! Suddenly things make a lot more sense! Why did that not occur to him on his own?

"You loved them", he realises, "You loved them as much as you hated them. You love my children, just like you love yours – but you were so revenge-bent, that you fought and denied it, until it was completely twisted."

Loki doesn't answer.

He doesn't have to.

The way he presses his scarred lips together and squeezes his eyes shut is answer enough.

They stay quiet for a while, taking their time to let this realisation sink in.

"I do not regret it", the trickster finally whispers. But I do regret, that I had to do it.

"I know", Óðinn replies. And I regret, that it had to come to this.

The Allfather balances the bowl in one hand again, so he can touch the other's defaced visage with the free one.

"Don't", Loki croaks, but Óðinn is already murmuring an incantation and within seconds, the trickster's face is restored to its former beauty.

"Bastard!", the redhead chokes.

"We both are", the black-haired god chuckles bitterly and returns his hand to the bowl; balancing it with two hands is just easier.

"I hate you!"

"I know, I know."

"You used to be my brother!"

"And you used to be mine."

Loki hears the hidden meaning: I wish we still were. I wish we could start again. I wish it was still possible to fix it all.

"No!", he hisses. "It's over! You have broken it all! We have broken it all! Our life … our brotherhood and friendship … it's all in shards!"

"Loki …"

"I will never forgive you! Never! NEVER!"

"Loki …"

"DIE! DIIEEE! Die-ah-ah …"

"Shhhh", the Allfather coos. "Shh, shhh, shhhh …"

"I hate you!", Loki sobs, "Damn you, damn you, damn you! You … you … ahhhh …"

The Raven God doesn't speak, as his now enemy becomes a bawling mess in front of him.

But at some point he feels his own sight blur.

It's bizarre, really.

Two mortal enemies in a cave, one chained up and the other holding a bowl over his head.

Weeping together, because everything is beyond dreadful, because they both ruined everything, lost everything and have nothing left, but the certainty of their impending end.

Loki doesn't know how long they cry like this, but it must be a while, because at some point their tears just … dry up.

When he finally calms down, he's beyond exhausted.

Once he trusts his own voice again, he inquires: "You don't happen to know how much longer it is until Ragnarök?"

Óðinn thinks for a moment. "Not long. Three hundred years, at the max. Pretty sure that snake up there won't last that long, though. It looks half dead."

"Good. Hey, wanna know what I'll do first, once I get out of these chains?"

"Sure, why not."

"I'll have me some snake soup. Then I'll take a long, long nap, because my back is hurting like hell and I don't think I'll be strong enough to walk right away to begin with."

"Fair enough."

"I'm so tired …"

"Sleep then", Óðinn tells him. "I'll be here until your wife comes back."

Loki refuses to say thank you, but he does promise the other, that he'll tell Fenrir to be quick about eating him.

"Much appreciated", the other replies drily.

The trickster smirks at the Raven God, then falls asleep. He doesn't have to fear, that his former brother will kill him in his sleep.

The Allfather sighs and goes on to silently do his daughter's self-imposed task, until she finally comes back. Sigyn looks younger and a little less exhausted. Seems she really needed that break.

"It won't be much longer", he promises her.

She nods in acknowledgement.

One look into her tired eyes tells him, that she won't be much longer either – her incomprehensible strength is waning. She has been here for way too long.

"Goodbye, father", she says calmly. Farewell, she means.

"Farewell, Sigyn", he returns and lets her take the basin to resume her task. "Just one thing, before I go."

"Hm?"

"I'm proud of you, my daughter."

Her lower jaw quivers and her eyes tell him to leave.

He does.

There is no reason to linger.

The Raven God and the Wolf's Father have nothing more to say to each other.

They have told each other what needed to be told.

Everything else is certain, it doesn't need to be spoken of.

Certainty has the beauty of being trustworthy and reliable.

To Óðinn it's the same with Loki; he knows, when the trickster is telling the truth and when not – that makes it easy to not be suspicious.

He can trust, that the fire giant will bring on the Ragnarök, that they both will die, that they will be enemies in the end, like they were brothers in the beginning.

He knows, that for Loki it's the same.

That is why even now, they can tell each other things they wouldn't tell anyone else.

What a twisted kind of comfort there lies within that knowledge.


"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."