A/N: As promised, this chapter is all Loki!

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Chapter 6: Memories

Reykjavik, Iceland

"Hæ, Birna," Luther 'Loki' Leifson greeted his colleague jovially as he strode inside the office of the travel agency where he'd been employed at as a guide for the past couple of years.

"Coffee? You're just in time for a fresh mug. How was your group, this morning?"

"Gladly." He said, chucking off his coat, cap and gloves. "The morning city tour went very good. A very nice group, actually. They were absolutely interested and asked many questions. Quite a change from the bus load of ill behaving tourists who didn't bother to listen to half of what I said, the other day." He sneered. Oh, how he wished he could've played some spells on them to teach them a lesson.

"Don't pull such a face, Luther, it doesn't become you. You're such a handsome man if you don't do that."

He snorted at which Birna clucked her tongue.

"Besides, you know they're not all like that. You had the bad luck of being saddled with such a disinterested lot. It happens," she concluded, handing him a steaming mug of black coffee.

"I know... So, what else have you got for me?"

He walked over to his desk and booted up his computer to check the schedule for the second half of the day.

"Ah. A bunch of young bucks for the snowmobile trek this afternoon?" Aha! That might actually be some fun.

"That's right. And please make sure those 'young bucks' get through the trek without any mishaps!" She admonished him, wagging her finger.

He frowned as he printed out the forms needed for that tour. "I can't help it when some of them act like idiots by brandishing a toy hammer while riding..." Luther muttered, gritting his teeth as he remembered the episode of the young Englishman doing a Thor impression. "It wasn't my fault if the damn thing smacked him right back in his face with the result he lost control of his scooter. What's more, since when are we expected to check what they carry with them when on a tour? We're not exactly airport security, are we?"

She had to agree he had a point, there. If a young male tourist was intent on making a fool of himself, then so be it, but she'd rather nobody got hurt in the process...not even the young idiot.

"Luckily the snowmobile didn't suffer any damage."

"No," Birna agreed, "but the young bloke did end up in hospital with a broken nose!"

Luther barred his teeth in a wicked smile. "Served him right, didn't it?"

Birna rolled her eyes. "Luther, you're impossible. I wouldn't put it past you if you'd somehow orchestrated his accident. So full of mischief! But, please, do return our guests in one piece when you're done, okay?"

"Of course, my dear Lady Birna," Luther replied, executing a deep mock bow, at the same time smiling cheekily.

He checked his wristwatch. Forty minutes until the next tour and plenty of time for his lunch break. He leaned back in his chair and peeled a banana, marveling as usual at how such exotic fruits could be grown on this island. Ah the wonderful things the island's geothermal activity could do. He'd never have thought he'd actually come to love this place, one day, but he did. For starters, the climate suited him very well and he couldn't but admire the ingenuity of the inhabitants at making this harsh place surrounded by fire and ice liveable.

Luther gazed through the large windows, his eyes lingering on the city's landmark, the grand Hallgrímskirkju which oddly reminded him of his home, it's architecture reminiscent of the royal palace of Asgard. Just like the golden palace in the Realm Eternal, this house of worship was the tallest and most striking structure on the whole island and its design was inspired by the multitude of basalt formations which could be found across Iceland. The inside was reminiscent of a vast ice cave.

Not that he ever went in for worship! Worship another deity? He thought not! He'd sooner turn to Hell...

Hela.

The Christians, at the dawn of their new religion, had adopted her, changing her name into Lucifer and using her realm to instill fear into the heart of sinners. Little did they know Niffleheim or even Muspelheim would be more appropriate places for the 'Hell' they had in mind. Either way, he didn't care much for the name of Lucifer the Christians had bestowed on her (nor did he see himself as Satan, for that matter). Hela was his daughter and she was a queen in her own right; ruling her own realm of the common dead, Hel. He'd been there, visiting. It was not that there had been much love between them; how could there be? She'd been taken from him since her birth for she definitely didn't fit in with the Aesir society. Not the way she looked; half of her Aesir form and the other half Jötunn which make that side of her look like death which had stigmatized her. She had always been unwelcome on Asgard. And now, after his infamous stint in New York, he wasn't welcomed back on Asgard, either. Rumours that he was in reality a Jötunn in disguise had brought shame and scandal upon the royal family, making matters worse. It was one of the reasons why he'd been even more determined than ever to protect his son by keeping his whereabouts (not to mention his own, of course) a secret. He was feared and he had no doubts his son would be equally feared and declared potentially dangerous by that bunch of Midgardian Avengers as well as most, if not all, on Asgard and the other realms.

However, Loki had every intention of giving his boy a real life – a normal life to Midgardian standards – and if he was to spend his entire life on Midgard, then so be it.

He rested his chin in his cupped hand and stared far beyond the Hallgrímskirkju.

Would he ever see his homeland again? Would he, Loki Laufeyjarson, ever have the pleasure of showing his son the grand realm where he'd spent his youth? The capital of which its architecture was sans pareil throughout the Nine Realms?

Right after his punishment, part of which was spent healing his possessed mind, and subsequent escape to a place where he could be left alone in peace, he couldn't have believed he'd ever feel homesick. He was so sure there was nothing – nobody – left in Asgard worth missing, but lately, that had changed. He didn't only miss his son Magni, he also missed Frigg, his mother – correction: stepmother – who had shown him nothing but kindness. In a crazy way, he also missed his so-called brother, Thor: sometimes goofy, other times no so and rather brutal and irresponsible; thoughtless. Odin and Thor's friends? Not so.

He wondered, not for the first time, if they had changed much. Of course, Magni had changed. After all, he'd seen the boy grow from a baby, through early childhood to a healthy 16 year old mortal lad. And a good looking boy he was, Loki had to admit. It made his chest virtually expand with pride.

The boy didn't even know his father. He'd never set eyes upon the man who had sired him and left him with the Gylfason family.

But Loki had been very close to his son, once.

It was Magni's 10th birthday and Sverre and Fulla had given their 'twins' each a new bike. Ase and Magni and the kids who'd been invited to their birthday party had gone to play on the street. As the family was living in the residential part of Reykjavik, the street was a very quiet one with hardly any traffic. It was a fun place for kids to play outside...on the street.

But reckless as children that age could be, oblivious to any danger and not yet able to understand the rules of the road, Magni had raced his bicycle along with some other boys and had turned the corner ahead of the next boy. First, there was a screeching of tires, the ominous sounds of a collision, silence...followed by general panic once it became clear a child had been run over by a car.

And he'd known it. As part of a light protection spell he'd set up, Loki had felt his son's pain as if it was his own. He had to take extreme care when casting spells, lest the others be able to track him down through the trail of magical energy he'd leave behind and would no doubt be recognized as his signature.

Arriving at the scene of the accident, he was just in time to see his small son whisked away in an ambulance.

At the hospital, he was forced to talk to Sverre and Fulla who were so kind to let him sit with his son when the boy lay in a coma which lasted for an entire week.

He'd never felt more helpless than when he was confronted with the delicate boy looking even more fragile, lying on the hospital bed, attached to monitors. The Norse god had sat beside the bed, holding one little hand in his own, looking at his boy's other arm in a cast and pale little face adorned with multiple scratches and bruises from his close encounter with the tarmac.

When Magni was close to waking up from his coma, Loki walked out, not staying around. It wasn't time, yet, but he hoped to one day actually 'meet' his son.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of anxiety. His 'mortal' son. By staying incognito on Earth, Magni was destined to grow old and...ultimately...perish. Or he might die even sooner due to an illness. Or an accident like the one he'd suffered as a 10 year old!

Eyes wide and face set in deep resolve, he sprang up from his desk chair and stalked out the door to stand on the pavement, staring unseeingly at the surrounding city.

Birna, taken by surprise by Luther's sudden actions, followed him outside and carefully laid a small hand on his shoulder which made him start.

"Luther? Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, noticing how he had tensed.

Without turning around, he tonelessly replied: "I'm fine. I'm just fine."

Birna raised an eyebrow, seeing through the blatant lie but she didn't insist. She'd learned he was prone to zone out like that and that it was best to leave him be when those moments occurred for he could build up a formidable temper if pushed. He was like fire and ice, she often thought, same as this island.

After a couple of deep and calming breaths, he slowly turned around and walked back inside, muttering an apology.

By the time he'd gathered the gear needed for the tour, the group had arrived, eager to explore the area around the Hellisheiði geothermal plant.

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