Chapter One - In which Loki meets a child who mistakes him for one who cares.

His heart burned, although he didn't notice it. Not anymore. It was something that had become a part of him, like his ink black hair, dark as void, like his eyes, blue as jotun skin, eyes that many feared and more hated. Like his green sparks that always flared when he used magic, the bitter sting in his heart was something that had become ingrown in him. Like black crystals. His heart was encased in black crystals.

He tasted the past on his tongue, rolling it around his mouth, gagging on it internally. Asgard was never his. Not for one moment. His Father never intended for him to succeed him. From the very beginning, it was a ploy. He was a ploy. A tool. A little game of the Allfather's, though who knew the reason for it?

Perhaps that's why his heart had turned as black as his thoughts. Why it felt as though it was dripping black goo.

Loki hated mortals. Although he did, however, he found himself on earth, roaming the place that his brother would soon walk, after he was through with him. The fool was too thick-headed to see through him, the god of mischief and lies, for all his strength and glory. It would make Odin see that he was worth just as little, in his eyes, as he was. To this day, a little while before the coronation, Loki did not know the reason why he was pushed aside- why he was considered less worthy.

And he wasn't going to ask, at least not yet.

"Hello?"

Loki's eyes narrowed. He focused his thoughts back at the bitterness he carried. He didn't know it, but it was the channel for the blackness inside him. It was hatred, pride and greed that had stuck to the walls of his heart, making the red, raw part of it invisible to show through the black, gooey substance. Clogging up his arteries. Leaving his mind devoid of light-

"Excuse me."

Loki turned, irritated. If this mortal knew who he was, it would be begging on its knees for forgiveness for interrupting his inner monologue. But he would not be forgiving, oh, no. If he was going to become an outcast, he was going to put his whole blackened heart into it.

Upon turning, however, he saw that it was a child. Of five, perhaps, but who could tell? He disliked children, thus never had much knowledge of the process of growing up. He had far better things to do with his unlimited time.

The child sniffed. It must have been crying. Its lip was still trembling. Disgusting.

"I'm looking for someone." It said. It had that strange way of speaking unclearly that children often had which played on his tender nerves more. "I'm lost."

He chuckled darkly at those words. So was he. He was lost, although he had a place to call home. But he was lost, and he felt it - the control he had was slipping away.

"Then go find who you are looking for." He said flatly, observing it with distaste. It was a girl. In the dim light of the day, Loki could make out black hair to its chin and huge, grey eyes that had the remains of teardrops still sparkling on their surface.

"I can't." It said, its lips trembling more.

Loki rolled his eyes and sighed, his moment of dark contemplation utterly ruined.

"What makes you think I'm going to help you? Be on your way."

He chuckled at its expression.

"If you knew who I was-"

"I know who you are." It said, fixing him with its huge, grey eyes. "I do." It said, knowing that he was far from believing it.

"I'm sure you do." He replied, a smug smile on his face. "After all, you are all grown up, aren't you?"

"I do know. You are Loki, Prince of Asgard."

He stopped in his tracks, the airy smile melting off his face. A mortal creature that knew his name? This was not a child. It could not be. This must be a disguise, one that he had missed, somehow, for all his skills in illusion and detection.

He bent down and looked at it, scouring its eyes, mouth, skin - nothing. He furrowed his brows and picked up a lock of its hair to inspect it - true, young hair to the core. This was no illusion.

"Who are you?" He stood, taking a few steps back. "How do you know who I am?"

The child wiped its face and giggled, as though he was the young one frolicking here. His jaw clenched.

"Listen, witch, or whatever you are," He bent over it, so that he towered above it, "Either you tell me exactly what your plan is, or I am going to be the living evidence of exactly why you should not talk to strangers.

It blinked up at him in a silly manner.

"Are you a spy? Who sent you?"

Loki felt a pang of embarrassment; he was talking to a five year old of threat. It did not understand him. He was being foolish.

"My name is Henrietta Knott." It said, after he had taken a step back. "I turn six in half a year. My parents were killed in a fire. I live with my uncle. I wanted to find him. We were walking in this park and he disappeared."

Loki was not proud to admit it, but at that moment he had never felt more helpless. He straightened, clenching and unclenching his fingers behind his back.

"Then go and find him. I won't help you."

"You will." It said, smiling. "You will help me. Even if you are a bad man. You would not knowingly hurt a child."

Loki opened his mouth, then gave a snort of disbelief.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your heart is black. You have killed people that never hurt a being in their lives through ignorance and boredom. Look at your hands." It said pointedly.

Loki felt his nostrils flaring and his face stretching into something that perhaps grown men would find threatening, but this child only looked at him curiously with a strange glint in its eyes.

"Look at your hands." It repeated, glancing up at them.

He tore his gaze away from it and glanced down, turning them over. After a few moments, he shook his head and cast a questioning look back at the creature.

"What am I meant to be seeing?"

"They drip with blackness. Blackness that does not belong to you. It is the blood of the people you killed."

"Blood is red" He said cuttingly. "Do your homework, little girl. Go home, before some equally bad man comes to find you and hurts you."

It baulked a little at those words and glanced around at the darkening setting, then moved a little closer to him.

"If you killed by accident, the blood would be red." It whispered, taking hold of his coat. Loki felt the urge to push it away with his foot, but somehow could not bring himself to do it.

"Some drops on your hands are red. But most are black. And so you are bad." It looked up at him, as though for confirmation. "People that kill to achieve a selfish goal are evil, aren't they?"

Loki of Asgard made a motion with his hands, as though wiping them clean, then snorted at himself and folded them behind his back. He said nothing, but the child kept staring up at him. Plus, who was he to destroy the moral compass of a being that did not belong to him?

"Yes." He said softly. "They are evil."

It observed him a little while longer, then made a shrugging motion.

"You will wash it off in the years to come."

Loki felt a second pang, although this one felt more like a repressed good emotion.

"Really."

"Yes. People pay for their bad deeds with pain. That's what my uncle said, once, to Mr. Anderson." It looked up at him as though it pitied him. "I'm sorry that you are going to get hurt."

Although Loki felt a spike of restlessness at the child's words, it was dispelled through the action of it taking his hand.

"Don't look so angry." It said. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Although he did not notice it, then, something moved a little in the blackness of his heart and he found enough raw red to sigh softly and return the gesture.

"I don't want to get hurt either."

"I know. Can you take me home?"

Loki of Asgard, the being with a black heart, raised his eyebrows at this proposal.

"You really want to hold my hand?" He mocked. "Don't you fear dirtying your clothes?"

The girl laughed at him, as though he said something funny. She had a rich, gurgling laugh, that even the black goo on his heart had trouble withstanding.

"My hand's won't be dirty. I haven't hurt anybody."

"Not yet." He said through gritted teeth. "Wait until you're older, little girl."

She looked up at him.

"Will I hurt people when I'm older?"

Loki had no idea, for he was no seer. He started to walk along the path, through the trees, looking absentmindedly around.

"You will break hearts as you break plates when you turn a table over."

"Oh." She said, crestfallen. "Then I don't want to grow up."

"Don't." He said softly, then they walked along in silence.

It was autumn. The light was turning orange, caressing the rest of the foliage that was still green, outlining squirrels dancing up the trees, spilling over the carpet of leaves that concealed more than the path - puddles.

"Oh, look!"

"What?" He snapped, for he had just begun to sink into dark thought and she had disturbed his wallowing again.

"Floating leaves." She said, bending over to look at the water. "There's a puddle under there."

"So-?"

Before he could pull her on, she let go of his hand and jumped straight into it, splashing and squealing with laughter. Loki watched, flabbergasted, taking a step back instantly.

"What on earth are you doing?" He pulled her away from it. "You crazy being. Ah, you-!"

She had kicked the puddle and it soaked his magnificent shoes. He dried them with a flash of green light and glared down at her, still not quite forgiving of her interrupting his internal monologue before.

"Right! That's it. I'm leaving you to the wolves."

But she was staring at him in awe.

"What was that?" She cried, stamping in delight. "Do that again!"

His brows furrowed.

"What? Oh." He snapped his fingers. "This?"

Zing. The green light danced up and down him, mingling with the autumn sun, lifting his hair a little. She clapped her hands and looked delighted.

"Again! Again! Again!"

Loki grinned, truly grinned, and his true nature took over without him realising. Within moments, he was crouching down, disappearing with an emerald flash, then reappearing in a different place with a bang whilst she turned round and round with feverish pleasure and gasped accordingly.

"Got you." He hissed, appearing behind her, apparently an evil wizard. "Now, I am carting you off to a tall tower, where you will never be able to get out-!"

He made the mistake of crouching down when appearing. She gave a delighted giggle and ran straight into his outstretched arms intent on pinching her shoulders, toppling him over onto a carpet of leaves. He was not expecting it, and he hit the floor with a thud, winded.

"No, none of that." He gasped when he got his breath back. "Get off me."

She didn't. She clambered onto him and sat down, patting his face.

"You won't be able to lock me into a tower now." She chuckled. "Because I am a dragon and I've got you instead."

"No you're not." He sighed, folding his hands on top of his stomach and looking at her in resignation. "You're a silly little girl, sitting on top of the god of mischief because he allowed you to do so."

He raised his eyebrows in emphasis, pulling a face.

"As soon as I am up, I will lock you into a-" He disappeared in a green flash and reappeared behind her, scooping her up. "Dungeon. And no powerful prince will ever be able to get you out-"

Loki froze, looking down at the floor, because the girl took him around the neck and hugged him tight, still giggling.

"No, little girl." He said softly, recollecting himself. "Little girls do not hug evil men."

She kissed him on the cheek.

"I like you, Loki of Asgard."

He sighed softly, the corners of his mouth tugged downwards, then put her down.

"That's a very unwise decision. Come. Let's find that uncle of yours-"

He pulled up short. There was a man standing right in front of him, watching them with a huge grin on his face. His hair was long and greying, his beard neatly trimmed. He had a tattoo on the left side of his face and a hooked nose, but warm, brown eyes, wrinkled in a smile.

"I would have never thought I would live to see the day in which Hattie would be kissing a stranger. Especially not one like you, my lord."

He bowed, dropping on one knee.

"It is an honour."

Loki let go of the girl's hand. She gasped and flew towards the man, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Uncle, uncle!"

"Uncle indeed." Loki said, coldly, once they had exchanged affections. "What uncle leaves their five year old in a park? Are you not aware of the danger she could have been in, had she not come across me?"

The man dropped his gaze, then took Hattie's hand and stood.

"My responsibilities are sometimes beyond my control. I had no choice. I had to leave her for a few moments. Thank the Allfather she was with you."

Loki took a better look at the man, then raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"It's you. Dauneren Haldanson. The Banished, the Foul."

"The one who led a Jotun into Asgard, two-hundred years ago." He smiled sadly. "I have told them time and time again that I had nothing to do with the incident. The assassination was pulled off well, but I had no part in one, not that time."

He bowed his head.

"You know, as the god of lies, my Lord, that I am speaking the truth."

Indeed he was. Loki felt a spike of pity for this man. He had been banished from his home, not before facing torture. It was his reputation that had banished him - an assassin by trade, he had made himself a lot of enemies.

Loki turned to look at Hattie, who had run off to jump in another puddle of water. Haldanson followed his gaze and laughed.

"I apologise for any… Strange… things she may have told you. She is gifted, but being only five, she does not know tact."

They watched her squealing in the puddles, then standing stock still and running up to a tree in which a curious squirrel observed her, probably wondering whether it found a brethren.

"You can imagine what a fright she has given some people, my liege, recounting their darkest sins right before their very eyes." Haldanson chuckled, scratching his beard. "She asks me about mine at least five times daily."

"It must be interesting."

Hattie came back and took Haldanson's hand. Loki wondered whether she could see black on her uncle's hands, too.

"I can." She said, making him jump. "But Uncle's hands are less black than yours, for he is already paying for what he has done. His don't drip anymore. Yours do."

Haldanson looked uncomfortable at the comparison, but Loki just grinned.

"She can read thoughts too."

"Only if she wants to." He scratched his beard again. "I reckon she'll stop wanting too when she grows up. She needs to learn control. The hardest control there is. Don't you, Hattie?"

She nodded, twirling round and round in her yellow wellington boots and pink, fluffy coat, looking up at Loki with those round, grey eyes.

"Will you walk me to school tomorrow, Loki of Asgard?" She said, after a moment. "Uncle is always busy and I don't like Doris. She smells of cat."

"Now, Hattie. The Prince of Asgard is very busy and has many more important things to do than walk little girls to school."

"Please." She said to him, her two small brows furrowing. "I want to look at your magic again."

Loki shrugged and folded his hands behind his back, feeling his chest expand with pleasure he forgot existed.

"I will think about it."

Her face lit up, making him feel as though he was truly needed, regardless of the fact he met her about half an hour ago. Regardless of the fact his heart was blacker than his hands.

"Let's go home, Hattie." Haldanson shook his head fondly. "Say goodbye to the prince."

"Goodbye. See you tomorrow!" She added cheekily, grinning.

Haldanson bowed, then turned and began walking with her in his arms. She leaned against him, looking at Loki as she was carried away. She waved at him when they rounded a corner. He couldn't bring himself to wave back.

He wondered why he was so affected by such an insignificant creature. Why he cared that she could see the blackness of his hands and heart.

He put his hands up to his face, squinting, but he could not see the slightest speck of black. There were some white scars running over his flesh, but his hands were as pale and slender as ever. He shook his head, deeming himself foolish, then turned and was on his way, his thoughts gloomy, the prospect of the coronation looming like a great, dark mountain overhead.

He knew not that in a short space of time, insignificant to one with his life span, he would become a traitor. That he would learn that his family was not his true one. That he would fall off Bifrost bridge in pursuit of death, running from shame, while his father watched him do so without blinking, then go on to suffer and cause his hands to be blackened even more. What happened following that, though, was something that he would have never expected from any being or any pages that fate had written for him. If you asked him, he would have looked you in the eyes and solemnly replied that he did not deserve a moment of it.

Greetings and salutations, reader. Enjoy, for it is going to be an intense, near-tragic love story. For all the Christians out there - fear not, for nothing will be written that will have to make you reconcile afterwards for it. For the easily-influenced: this is only a story. There is only one God, and he loves you. Enjoy :)

Anonymitea64