Chapter 4 is here! This one should explain a lot. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: WHY DO YOU KEEP MAKING ME WRITE THAT I DONT OWN LOKI WHEN IT DEPRESSES ME?!
Thor ended up partnering Sif, and Fandral partnered Hogun, and Volstagg stayed alone as he "didn't want any other warrior getting in between him and his victory feast."
Since that day, Thor hated me with all that he had. He took every opportunity to make fun of me, to try to embarrass me, or otherwise just ignored me. This was fine by me, as I didn't like him much anyway. What wasn't fine was that Asgard had turned against Loki, saying that he was a disgrace to the royal family and shouldn't be practising a woman's art. Before the ceremony, Loki was respected as much as Thor, but now he was called Silvertongue, Trickster, Sly One, and even Ergi. I knew it didn't bother him, it was merely an annoyance.
Thor and his friends would always make jests at our expense, saying things that if heard, would put Frigga to shame. Loki and I took every opportunity to prank them, sometimes harmlessly, sometimes not. Loki cut off Sif's hair, I made all of Fandral's fall out. I made the training field blow up while they were in it, Loki turned Thor's hammer into plastic. We both got punished for our pranks, ranging from being grounded, to having to clean the grounds, to being whipped in front of the palace gates. It didn't stop us though.
That was how it was, up until Thor's coronation. Thor forgave Loki soon enough, but never me. He always claimed I had stolen his brother from him, and of course his friends backed him up. We continued to prank, while they continued to make fun. Both of us had grown in strength significantly; we were among the most powerful magic wielders in the universe.
And then I found out a horrible truth.
Tyr came to me, three days before the coronation. He said he needed to tell me something he should have told me years before. He said "Nyx, you are not my child. I took you as a baby from the ruins of a war long forgotten. You have read the legends, of a race of demons that inhabited the voids between realms, before they were wiped out by Asgard's forces. I took you from that war, as the last of your kind, to be a trophy for the realm. But it didn't turn out like that, my daughter, as I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. I welcomed you as my daughter and raised you as Aesir. You are still my daughter, no matter your heritage."
The Demons of the Void. A race extinct for centuries after they were all wiped out. A race of monsters that fed off pure darkness, who mindlessly killed and had no self preservation. A race I was brought up to believe were true Evil, pure Rage, pure Death. A race every Aesir knows to fear, even if they are all dead.
Well, except one, apparently.
I lashed out at him. I screamed and yelled and fought mindlessly, full of rage and sorrow and self hatred. I fought until all of my skin turned blood red, and the blood in my veins turned into molten lava. I fought until my eyes glowed crimson and my nails sharpened into claws and my teeth became razor sharp. I fought until I grew a tail, long and red with a pointed triangle at the end. (Read: imagine x men's Azazel's colour skin and his tail.)
I fought until I had became my true form.
And then I froze.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror of the room. The monster that stared back at me. The demon. I studied every inch of it, every place where the veins stood out and lava flowed underneath that new skin. I studied its tail, the way it moved under command and the tip seemed razor sharp. Lastly, I looked into those eyes. Those eyes, red but filled with self hatred and grief, with loss and pain.
But as I stared, those eyes changed. Grief melted into rage. Loss melted into bloodlust. Pain melted into determination. The self hatred stayed, though, eating away at my mind.
I turned slowly, phasing back into my normal Aesir form. Crimson eyes turned emerald. Blood red skin turned pale. I stared cooly down at Tyr, who was bleeding but standing, eyeing me cautiously. I blinked, and his heart exploded. He fell, limp to the floor, while his guts and bones flew across the room like a grotesque firework. When it was over, I packed my stuff and left Asgard for good.
I took refuge in the void between Asgard and Alfheim. Of course, I had spies in Asgard so I knew what was going on. I swore then and there to never return to that realm full of liars, and to get my revenge as soon as I had come to terms with what i was. Asgard was my home no longer.
The last of my kind, I had no home. I belonged nowhere.
Which was why I was in the darkest corners of the void, where there was no sound, no matter, no light, and no heat. I was alone, forever, just like I should be. The only one who would care I was gone would be Loki, but if he knew what I was he would just turn on me anyway. He was better off without me. Asgard was better off without me. So I sat there, watching and waiting, as the events unfolded.
The guards found Tyr splattered all over the house the next day, and sent news to the royal family. They assumed I had been killed or taken by whoever killed Tyr, so Odin arranged for a funeral in my honour, where he burned my possessions that I had left behind instead of my body. My flaming boat would ride the waterfall next to my father's. Thor, as predicted, seemed uninterested in the whole ordeal, saying that it was my fault and I didn't deserve the traditional Aesir send off. Loki fought him, though. He fought him harder than he ever had before, using his magic when he never had before. Loki, needless to say, won; so I would have the memorial.
Down in the void, I smirked to myself. So, they truly believe I am dead? That Tyr was taken out by some rogue beast? They seem not to suspect me of murder, they see me as an innocent child. See their faces when this child makes them all burn.
Loki seemed consumed by rage and by grief. At the day of the coronation, his built up rage at his brother and the world in general drove him to invite Jotuns into Asgard, disrupting the ceremony. And that just set off a long train of events, with Loki growing darker and darker. When he found out the truth about his heritage, that really hit home.
So Asgard lied to both of us.
The Demon and The Frost Giant.
All of Loki's actions were justified after that point. Sending the Destroyer to kill Thor, pity it didn't work. Loki made a great king, and trust those damn warriors to betray him for Thor.
All this time I spent in the void, proud of Loki for his actions, and getting progressively more insane the longer I spent out here. My magic was feeding off the void, becoming stronger, more dangerous. The darkness seeped into my mind, tainting my memories and intentions, making them darker than ever before. I wanted blood. I wanted anyone who had ever wronged me to pay. I would show them pain like they had never seen before, dance in their screams, bathe in their blood, and laugh when they begged for death.
I would live up to my title. I would be a Demon of the Void. Evil.
In the void, a more sadistic grin than I had ever managed before split my face practically in two, and my eyes took on a crazed light. My magic crackled along the surface of my skin, black flashes of electricity and pure power.
My magic was transformed. From green to black. From light to dark. From weak to strong. From mischievous to chaotic. All traces of green gone, all traces of my old life gone. I can never return. My mind and magic taken over by the darkness of the void. Fuelling me to do what I needed to do.
I would be the monster. I was a monster. I was already a monster.
I was a bomb, ready to blow up. Ready to unleash the pain I felt onto the universe. Darkness. Destruction. Chaos.
All I needed was something to set me off. Oh, Norns help them.
I love writing from an evil point of view, it's way more interesting and fun. Anyway, please R&R so I know what you think.
Im having writers block now. I can't decide where to take the next chapter. If I don't update in a while, it's because I can't think of what to write. Feel free to send me ideas and inspiration, if you want.