Adopted
He was somewhere… north. Where, he didn't quite know, nor did he care. The Trickster had been wandering for quite a while, fooling the humans. They were stupid, easy to deceive. Sometimes it was fun, but it inevitably got boring. So he would move on to another place, another trick. Now here he was, in the north, and it was cold.
He wasn't on Earth, he knew that much. He just didn't know which pagan realm he was in. He hadn't really explored them when he was younger. He sat by a well, at the base of a huge tree. If he craned his head all the way back he still couldn't see the top. He could only see the lower branches.
He sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. He missed home. But he wasn't going back.
"Hey, what are you doing?" a voice called. Startled, the Trickster jumped and looked around for the source of the voice.
"Who said that?" he said, his voice small and childish. His vessel was much younger than he was, about ten, but he was the only one powerful enough. He disliked it, but he made due.
"I did. So what are you doing?" The voice came from above. Looking up again, the Trickster saw a young boy crouching on the lowest branch of the tree. He looked to be about the same age as Trickster's vessel, with light brown hair in a long braid down his back.
"Sitting," Trickster replied cautiously.
"Why?"
"Because I'm tired. Is it such a crime to sit?"
"No," the boy responded. "It's just not comfortable. And it's not safe to sit by Mimir's well."
"Oh. Well, what else would you have me do, fly into the tree?' He could, easily. He just didn't want to.
"Of course. All gods are welcome on Yggdrasil. You are a godling, right? Like me." The youth talked fast and curiously, like he must know about everything.
"Yes, of course I am," Trickster said.
"So come on up!" Trickster stood up, examining the tree, looking for a way to get up without flying. Seeing no other way, he closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them, he was on the low branch next to the godling. He was surprised to find that it was actually quite warm in the tree.
"You hungry?" the youth asked him.
No. "Yeah, sure," Trickster responded instead. He didn't need to eat, but it would seem odd if he didn't.
"Come on. My father won't mind." The boy started jumping from branch to branch, which happened to be closer together. Trickster followed him. They climbed up, and up, and up, and still he couldn't see the top.
"Where are we going?"
"To my father's kingdom, at the top. Asguard," the boy said.
"Who are you, exactly?" Trickster asked.
"I'm Thor," the boy said, not missing a beat. "Who are you?"
"They call me the Trickster."
"The Trickster? That's odd." Trickster said nothing. Thor started slowing down, and he figured they must be reaching the top. Looking down, he couldn't see anything. It didn't seem like they had traveled that long, but time moved differently in magic realms. Thor turned to face him.
"We're here," he announced. "Asguard. It's not actually on the tree, but the tree acts as a kind of stairway. The top realm of the tree is really Valhalla." Thor turned back around and pushed what seemed to be empty air. But the sky shifted, and then opened to reveal a long bridge spanning across to a huge palace. Thor walked forward confidently, and gestured for Trickster to follow. They walked past two guards and crossed the bridge.
The palace was grand, brightly lit and bustling. Thor led him through the hustle to a grand doorway. The doors opened to reveal a great dining hall, but it was empty, save a large man at one end of a long table, and a plate set on his right side. He looked up when Thor approached. When he did, Trickster saw that he had a patch over one eye.
"Thor, there you are. Where have you been?" the man asked. He seemed to not notice Trickster.
"I was down at the bottom of Yggdrasil, by Mimir's well," Thor said. The man's face hardened.
"I told you not to play around the well. It's dangerous." Trickster could see the obvious worry and affection on the man's face.
"But Father, Trickster was sitting by the well! I couldn't let him sit there! Like you said, it's dangerous. And he's a godling." The man looked at Trickster for the first time.
"Well, well," the man approached Trickster and crouched down in front of him. "Are you a godling, son?"
"Yes," Trickster replied.
"What's your name?"
"Trickster."
"That's not a name. What's your real name?" The man fixed him with a stare, his one eye assessing every word and movement.
"Ga-" he stopped himself. "Loki. My name is Loki." The man studied him, eye searching for… something. Not finding anything, he relaxed and placed his hand on Loki's shoulder. With that touch, he was able to tell everything about this pagan religion. These were the Aesir. Odin, Thor. Asguard, the realm of the gods. Valhalla, realm of fallen soldiers. Hel, realm of slaves and cheats and liars. And then Jotenheim, the land of trolls and frost giants.
"Where are you from, Loki?" Odin asked.
"I'm from Jotenheim," he replied.
"Do you have a family?" Loki shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak. Thoughts of his brothers rushed into his head. The betrayals.
"I have no family." Odin's face softened.
"You do now."
Chapter 7 whoop! So, sorry for the long update, but I don't have constant internet access, so I update whenever I'm at my friends. At least it gives me time to write new chapters!
Speaking of which, chapter 9 is finished! Yaay!
I will update asap, as usual, but it might be awhile.
Read & review, please!