This was completely new for him. Loki walked into a strange little pet shop, a jacket hugging his arms like a lover. The place was almost deserted. Cages were lined against the walls like decorations, and the cashier at the front looked like her face would crack if she tried to smile, hell, it looked more like a prison than a pet shop.

"Can I help you sir?"

Loki breathed deeply. He knew all about prisons. When Thor returned him to Asgard to face his punishment the only thing that went through his head was "Revenge" and "Glory". Not a second went by in the holding cell that Loki didn't dream of escape. At night his mind dreamed of returning to Midgard to reclaim what he thought was his.

And then one day, by pure luck he managed to escape, he convinced one of the guards to allow him a brief relief from his cell (his was the silver tongue after all), and of course, during his brief freedom, he left a spectral image in his place.

Perfect.

That day was perfect. His victory day. His revenge day. The day he would finally ascend to his rightful place as ruler. He traveled, looking for new ways to increase his power, anything that would grant him victory over Thor and his band of fools.

Loki looked around the pet shop and his spine began to shiver. "No thanks," he told the cashier, "I'm just browsing."

His journeys took him to back to Midgard, through Nifelheim, and across Jotunheim. He discovered how to hide himself from Heimdall's sight and Odin's crows and yet he still dreamed of revenge.

The pet shop was filled with the most interesting creatures, exotic in their ordinariness. There were birds that repeated his words and dogs who stood up as he past. He only chuckled and shook his head, they reminded him of Thor.

His journey finally took him to Hel. The place feared by all, in every realm, even the mortals. He heard warnings and whispers as he entered the gate. "Turn back Trickster, you know not what you enter into."

But he had come too far.

He entered Hel, a place that made him yearn for his own cell back in Asgard…but he could not turn back, no he was far too close. The horror stories he had heard as a child were flooding back to him. Souls of the wicked rose from the ground, waters rippled like chains overhead, threatening all who sought any form of hope of comfort.

And then he came across the edge of Hel.

The very end of all life and death, a black void that stretched out into eternity. Could this be what he had been looking for?

"Turn back trickster. You know not what you seek."

He knew what he sought. Revenge, power, domination. He would get all of it…

"Sir?" Loki turned around to see the cashier, smacking on her gum. "Are you alright?"

It just occurred to Loki that he had been standing in the middle of the hallway.

He shook his head. "Yeah yeah, I-I'm fine." He hugged his jacket closer to him and gazed across the hallway. More cages.

Hel was a risky place to be in, but he had come too far, hadn't he? He peered deep into the abyss and saw…himself.

"What trickery is this?"

He saw hundreds of himself, thousands even, an army of Lokis across the darkness. Images of himself across everything. He saw himself as a woman, a sly smile across her face, he saw himself as a child running through the streets of Paris under the name of Serrure. He saw himself as Odin's adopted brother, he saw himself as a scrawny Jotun, hiking across the frozen tundra. And then he saw himself as he had always meant to be…ruler of Asgard.

He smiled, this is what he had been looking for. Conformation of his own existence, he was the rightful ruler, he was the one true heir…but that vision was not what he had hoped it was.

The cashier went back behind the counter and shrugged. "Just call me if you need anything."

Loki walked to the back of the hallway…and he stopped. His eyes fell upon a cage, far away from the others, as if the thing caged inside did not deserve to see the sunlight ever again.

"Who are you little one?"

Loki stared into the specter in front of him. He was king. He was ruler…but something was wrong. In that vision Loki, the one who now ruled over all of Asgard was…unhappy. This Loki who had defeated Thor, won Asgard, and now had Odin in chains, looked even more burdened than he had ever seen himself.

"But that's fine. I'll still be ruler. I'll still have my revenge."

But the vision played on and then ended…

"This can't be right."

With Loki tied to a stone, a serpent dripping its venom against his face.

"W-what?"

Loki as a woman, dressed with her sneer smile, ended with her tied to a rock underneath a serpent's venom. As a child running through Paris, he was subjected to the same fate. Over and over and over. Every scheme, every plan, every ounce of chaos he could ever dream of doing, ending with the same results.

The venom of a serpent.

"Is this to be my fate?"

Then what was the point of any of it? What was the point of trying so hard for something that would forever be denied to him? What was the point of planning and never knowing peace? Him, Loki, the master of chaos…no, the slave of chaos. Ever since birth, he was never allowed to know peace.

Born a Jotun, raised as an Asgardian, how could a creature know what peace was when his very existence was the definition of unrest?

"This can't be…"

Even as a child he knew only of disappointment. Everything he studied, magic, deceit, trickery, was the opposite of what was considered honorable to his own home. He never knew peace. He never knew order. He would never know happiness. All he had was chaos…

Loki peered deeply into the cage, and saw a little black ball, curled up in the corner. He called the cashier over, and she opened the cage for him. It was a cat. A small black cat with yellow eyes like the moon at midnight.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"Oh, this little guy doesn't have a name yet. Some people left him here and we haven't been able to find him a home."

Well that didn't make sense, a handsome little devil like this?

"Why?" Loki asked.

The cashier smacked her gum. "Because people don't really like black cats."

Loki limped out of Hel, his arms against his sides were like pieces of wet parchment. All his scheming, all of his ambition, all of his work…meant nothing. Even if he did manage to gain the throne it would never truly be his. The only thing he could have was disorder. He wasn't even permitted to have a life outside of chaos was he? He was a Jotun in a world ruled by Asgardians. He was a sorcerer in a world of swords. He was a silver tongue in a world of rusty brawn.

He was no master of anything…he never was.

He shook his head.

"So be it."

Loki held the cat close to his chest. The thing was so skinny he could almost count its ribs. Loki had heard of the world's aversion to black cats. They brought bad luck, he had heard. They were the bringers of bad news, he had heard.

He never once believed those words would keep a creature from having a home.

They were kindred spirits, he and that cat. After his trip to Hel he had lost himself. What was the point of being Chaos if you couldn't have a life? What was the point of chasing a crown that would never be yours?

"You're so adorable." He told the cat, its yellow eyes looking into his bright, green pupils. They both knew what it was like to be distrusted, to walk past and feel the side-eyed resentment of others simply for daring to exist. They were cut from the same cloth.

After Hel, he went on a journey. He traveled, he saw the realms. He lived. No Odin to tantalize him with thoughts of ruling. No Thor to overshadow him. No Asgard to look down on his way of doing things. Just himself and peace. For the first time in his entire existence, he had found peace.

"I'll take him."