Hello! I've been trying to find time to write this story for a while now and I had ideas but Agatha All Along completely ruined any previous storyline. I don't mind having to change it because I like this version better. I did promise I'd write more stories involving Loki's kids, so even though it's probably a lot later than expected, I kept my promise. Here we go! :D
Chapter One: Knocking on Death's Door
Loki didn't mean for this to happen.
One moment, he tried opening the Mirror Dimension simply because he wanted to prank Thor, and the next, he found himself lying in a deep valley. The sky shone milky green instead of blue, barely illuminating large mountains of dark stone. Pitch-black sand swirled beneath his feet, carrying the abrasive yet shockingly muffled sounds of tortured screams.
More than just the landscape had drastically changed. His magic, once strong and flowing through him like a powerful river, fell stagnant like someone had built a dam to cut off the source of his power.
The strange landscape and the sudden lack of magic would quickly become the least of Loki's worries.
Brushing the sand off his clothes, Loki stood to survey his surroundings. He could breathe the air, thank the Norns, but the pale sky shining ominously above offered no sign of any sun or stars. Thick clouds hovered immobile despite the harsh wind flinging sand into his face. In the distance, large mountain ranges formed a small yet deep valley of brimstone and grainy sand. A river of ice snaked between the mountains and disappeared around a bend.
Standing on the riverbank, Loki could feel the power radiating from the dark waters. A shiver not caused by cold shot down his spine as he caught a glimpse of an elongated face wrenched open in a silent scream coming to the surface of the water only to sink below again a moment later. Aside from the strange wailing seemingly coming from the sand beneath his feet, no other sounds filled the emptiness.
Jotunheim, perhaps?
No Frost Giants or other sources of ice and snow covered the land. Loki had only read about Jotunheim and had never been there in person, but this could not be the realm of their sworn enemies. For starters, Odin had defeated Laufey, the king of Jotunheim, millennia ago and prohibited any Asgardian from stepping into the realm. If Heimdall had noticed Loki come here, the gatekeeper would've opened the Bifrost long before Loki awoke.
Unless Heimdall could not see Loki in this strange realm. In a fit of worry, Loki checked the spells shrouding him from the gatekeeper's view and realized he could feel none. Heimdall, ever-watchful, should have felt Loki fall out of range but unless the gatekeeper could pinpoint his exact location, the chances of rescue were dishearteningly improbable.
"Heimdall?" Loki whispered, hesitant to break the unnatural silence. Around him, the faint screams carried on the breeze and floated down the river, fading somewhere off in the distance.
No response.
"Heimdall!" Loki repeated, this time louder and more assertive.
Still nothing.
"It's me: Loki," Loki said, staring at the sky. The wind whipped his cloak around his calves and threw sand into his eyes. "Heimdall, get me out of here. Now."
Heimdall either couldn't see Loki or had other things to worry about than bothering to help him leave some creepy valley. The fear of somehow falling out of the gatekeeper's range sent another chill down Loki's spine, and he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to calm down. His body still felt off, lighter and heavier at the same without the familiar hum of magic flowing through his veins to ease his nerves. Nothing, not even outside forces, could keep him like this for long and wouldn't change anything permanently—hopefully. He'd either have to remove the blockage himself, find another force to help him, or wait for the spell to dissipate on its own.
Loki huffed out a small sigh of annoyance. The source of every misadventure always boiled down to his magic either failing to work, working too well, or someone wishing to use his powers for themselves. First, shapeshifting led to a giant's horse siring Loki's firstborn, Sleipnir. Then Jormungandr came after Loki healed an injured female dragon a little too well. The same shapeshifting Jotun witch, Angrboða, who turned herself into a dragon then meddled with Asgardian and Frost Beast genetics and magic to produce Fenris.
Loki used to revel in the chaos of magic and how it obeyed few rules, but now, Loki longed for some sense of order. Sleipnir had been an accident from a well-intended plan going wrong. It still occasionally haunts his nightmares even though Sleipnir had done nothing wrong aside from scaring a few Asgardians at the sight of an eight-legged horse.
Jormungandr had been a surprise and started as cute and tiny only to grow into a larger and larger serpent every day. He probably should have left the healing magic to Sigyn, his beloved lady, because, as a healer-in-training, she knew more about the ways of medicine than Loki ever did.
Fenris, the adorable fluffy wolf, also had a horrible beginning partly due to his magic catching unwanted attention. Nevertheless, the sight of his youngest running around with his tag wagging and pink tongue lolling out always sent a swell of warmth into Loki's heart. Though he might hate the circumstances in which his three sons came into existence, he would not trade watching them grow up, play together, and pull pranks on Thor, Thor's friends, and any unsuspecting Asgardian for the world. He did, however, wish people would stop assuming the worst whenever he used his powers.
Terrible circumstances caused by his magic going awry were why Loki dedicated his free time to mastering the art of magic. Even after all these years and Frigga teaching him everything the queen of Asgard knew, he still tended to bite off more than he could chew. His failed attempt to open the Mirror Dimension earlier than recommended proved he had a long way to go before becoming a full-fledged sorcerer.
Curse his impatience and overconfidence.
Something about this place gave Loki a sinking feeling that something would go horribly wrong again and either leave him mentally scarred for life or injured beyond repair. Imagine the humiliation his sons would face if word spread of Loki's untimely demise stemming from an inability to muster the strength necessary to open such a complex dimension.
The lack of response from Heimdall proved the gatekeeper couldn't get him out of this, leaving Loki to figure a way out on his own. Driven by a slight concern about his well-being and the fear of abandoning his young sons by dying a premature death caused by his incompetence, he pulled himself together and walked.
Following the river, he wound through the huge brimstone boulders and jagged hills until he came to the foot of a small cliff. He had yet to find any life forms, and at this point, he did not know if he would rather succumb to the elements alone or discover whatever macabre creature called this place home.
Climbing the cliff did nothing other than offer a better view of the hellish place. The mountain range went on forever in every direction, the river disappearing at points from the twists and turns.
However, the higher elevation offered one little bit of hope. Nestled in a dip in the mountain peaks almost too far to see, a faint yellow light in a tower flickered. The pinprick of light blinked as if seeing Loki standing atop a cliff, but considering the distance between him and the tower, nobody should be able to see him.
Unless they had magic here or some other form of advanced technology able to detect lifeforms.
The thought gave Loki pause and he once again tried to summon his magic only to feel it push against the wall, unable to break through.
At an impasse, Loki assessed his situation. He had no magic, no way of contacting Heimdall, and no idea where he was or if the people here were friendly. He could either climb down the cliff and travel the opposite way along the river or he could traverse the rather precarious mountain range toward the tower and run the risk of finding hostiles. In his current condition, powerless and wholly at the mercy of those who knew the terrain better, Loki doubted he could succeed if things came to blows.
Debating what to do, Loki turned to survey the other side of the mountain range to see if there were more towers or signs of life.
Standing there too distracted to pay attention to his surroundings, he did not notice when something bright flashed behind him until a soft voice said "Hello". Startled, he whipped around fast enough to trip over his feet and almost send himself toppling over the edge of the steep slope. Catching himself in time, Loki rolled away from the cliffside and faced the creature, not quite ready for an attack.
A young, pale woman with a round face and brown almond-shaped eyes smiled at him. Her black hanbok rustled slightly from the wind, the flowers in the fabric's pattern shimmering as if glowing from the inside. The veil on her wide, round hat covered her hair, but Loki could see a bit of her intricately dark updo underneath the sheer brim.
Her clothes were distinctly Korean and ornate, extremely out of place in the desolate mountain range. Despite the many layers obscuring her natural form, her small frame and delicate features proved she had never been in a fight before.
If push came to shove, Loki could easily stab her, lock her in a chokehold to snap her neck, and toss her cooling corpse off the cliff.
"Hello," the woman said again, her hands clasped innocently in front of her waist, oblivious to Loki's internal plotting. "My name is Park Ji-woo. I am a reaper sent here to escort you to my queen."
Loki blinked and then smoothed his facial features to mask his mounting concern. He didn't know what he expected but it was certainly not someone like her. "A reaper? Like a Valkyrie?"
"I am a Jeosung Saja," Jiwoo corrected. "I usually only handle Korean souls but my queen entrusted me to bring you to her for reasons I do not know nor will question. The specific title varies depending on our area of expertise but we all do the same thing."
A pit in Loki's stomach twisted into a thick knot. Furrowing his brow, he no longer tried to remain stoic as panic sank in.
"Wait," Loki muttered. His mouth went dry and he swallowed around a lump in his throat. "Am I dead? Is this Helheim?"
To his surprise, Jiwoo shook her head. "No, you are not dead."
Thank the Norns!
"You are in the outer lands of the Afterlife," Jiwoo continued.
What?
None of this made any sense.
"How am I in the Afterlife but also not dead?" Loki questioned, trying to reign in his panic. How in the Nine Realms did he end up here?
"Because the queen allowed it."
Chest heaving, Loki turned away from the reaper and ran a hand through his hair as he stared at the distant tower. He placed his hands on his hips in a failed attempt to dampen his shaking, his cloak billowing out behind him in the wind.
"I don't understand," Loki said to the mountains. He glanced over his shoulder at Jiwoo. "How is this possible?"
"Because the queen requested it."
Growing rather vexed, he spun on his heel and pointed a threatening finger at Jiwoo. "What is this queen going to do? What does she want?"
"I am not allowed to know anything more than what she told me."
Loki let out a humorless laugh. "And what did she tell you?"
"All reapers must remain on high alert for Prince Loki of Asgard. The queen requires your help."
"So you know who I am," Loki said. It came out more like a statement than a question, but he had no idea how he entered the Afterlife while still alive. "What 'help' could I possibly give?
Jiwoo nodded. "I am not privy to such details as to why you are here. I suggest you do as she says because, while you have great power, she has total control over the Afterlife and does not take kindly to threats."
Threats? Says the reaper standing before Loki, warning him about some mysterious queen in the Afterlife who wanted his assistance for reasons unknown to both of them.
Loki let out another chuckle, turning again to catch the wind in his cloak to hide his movement. In one quick motion, he unsheathed the dagger hidden in his boot, whipped around, and stabbed it right into Jiwoo's heart.
To her credit, Jiwoo didn't even flinch.
Startled at the lack of response, Loki's fingers slipped from the dagger protruding from her black jeogori blouse. He watched in a stupor as Jiwoo's head tilted down to stare at the blade and wrap her hand around the hilt. Her face didn't even twitch as she pulled it from her chest and flung it to the side.
It clattered on the brimstone and rolled over the cliffside, pinging quietly as it hit the rock on the way down the mountain. So much for besting her in a fight.
"I liked this dress," Jiwoo muttered, sullen. Her lips fell into a pout which tightened when she looked up at him. "That's not very nice."
Loki's mouth dropped open and he stammered until he gasped out: "How are you—"
"Not dead?" Jiwoo finished for him. "I am amortal, meaning you cannot kill me through conventional means like stabbing. Neither time, disease, nor regular injuries affect me, so you will have to get creative."
Loki suppressed his wince, going for a threatening smirk instead. "Try this for creative."
He flung out his hand, fully expecting a blast of energy to propel her off the cliff alongside his lost dagger.
Nothing happened.
His eyes fell on his outstretched hand then at Jiwoo and back. Gritting his teeth and grunting, he tried the motion again. His magic did nothing more than push against the wall and disperse like mist on a river.
"Dammit!" Loki hissed under his breath.
"Fighting me will accomplish nothing," Jiwoo said, her sickly sweet voice grating his nerves. "Your magic is not required while meeting the queen."
Loki narrowed his eyes and glared. "Maybe I don't want to meet the queen."
"You do not have a choice in the matter," Jiwoo said. She stepped forward, and if not for the steep slope behind him, Loki would have backpedaled.
When her fingers brushed against his tunic, Loki caught her wrist and twisted it to the side. It didn't break and she didn't react, so he hooked a foot behind hers to sweep out her legs. She rolled into the motion and moved too fast for him to counteract. Once behind him, she pinned his arms to his side as they fell.
A bright light consumed them in the split second before they hit the brimstone and Loki felt weightless as some powerful force transported them away.
Caught in a delicate chokehold, Loki broke free from her grip only to fall facefirst onto a smooth, polished floor.
"I bring what you ordered, my queen," Jiwoo said from behind Loki. Judging by the rustling of her clothes, she must have bowed to some unseen figure Loki could not see while almost prone at her feet.
Pushing himself to his feet, he smoothed down his rumbled clothes and whipped around to punch Jiwoo only to find she had disappeared again in a flash of pale yellow that left spots dancing in his vision long after she vanished. Eye twitching from annoyance, Loki spread his feet and readjusted his weight in case some other creature came out from the shadows to attack him. Or passively watch him fail to maim another reaper like what Jiwoo had done.
The fear of dying only slightly exceeded the humiliation of being bested by a petite woman in a dress not made for combat.
Around him, thick columns of obsidian twisted high toward the elevated ceiling. Branch-like arches curved between the columns and dripped pale green liquid onto the floor which trickled into a small stream running on either side of the room. Tiny flowers in full bloom on the vines curled around the columns like veins and pulsed as fueled by an unseen heartbeat. Jeweled stones were set into everything—the columns, ceiling, floor, walls—as part of the architecture. The jewels and flowers sparkled despite there being no visible sources of light aside from the torches mounted onto the columns.
While the flowers and vines did soothe some of Loki's unease, everything seemed dampened and heavy like after a fresh blanket of snow or smoke too thick to breathe.
Soul-sucking.
Loki almost didn't want to look up at the thing sitting on the throne.
On a dais, twin lanterns on matching pedestals illuminated the sides of the throne stationed between them. A thick tree stump curved around and upward to form the back and armrests of the throne. Skulls-shaped flowers and orange marigolds grew from the moss-covered wood to wrap around the warped seat. The lanterns cast pale green shadows onto the figure sitting on the throne, doing little to reveal more than the black-tipped nails of the slim fingers relaxing on the armrests.
Loki shuddered involuntarily as he tried to focus on the figure encased in shadow. Already, Loki felt a weight crushing him and pulling at the fibers of his being. A force threatened to tear him apart, and Loki struggled for every breath though he remained rooted to the spot.
Despite the muffled feeling holding every noise hostage, Loki's breathing sounded too loud as he tried to compose himself. He had a feeling whatever sat on the throne could sense fear, and while Loki trembled from the effort of hiding it, the being could possibly see right through the charade.
There were no guards present to remind him of his duties to bow before the supposed queen, so Loki stood stiff and upright, not wishing to take his eyes off the figure in case the shadows moved to hurt him.
The whole throne shifted as the queen stood and stepped off the dais. The shadows moved with her, stopping a foot away from Loki.
Another shiver coursed down Loki's spine as he stood face to ghastly face with the powerful being. He longed for his magic but knew he could not win a fight against someone strong enough to manipulate shadows and rule over reapers.
The hooded figure stood motionless as she observed Loki unnervingly close. Then a slender hand reached out towards Loki's face and cupped his cheek. Loki winced and batted at the arm, only for the shadow to suddenly shove him.
Loki felt himself fly through the air and slam into a column. The fingers followed him to clench around his throat before he even registered the shadow moving. Wheezing, Loki grabbed the thin wrist with both hands to ease the pressure on his throat. His feet dangled uselessly a full foot above the floor, so he kicked out in a vain attempt to break the grip. The hold on his throat did not lessen even as the hood peeled back to let a pale, humanoid skull sneer into Loki's face.
"Do not fight me." The voice rattled inside Loki's head more than it emitted from the skull's mouth. It came whisper quiet like the hushed rustle of stalks of grain dancing in an open field or animals falling silent as a warning before a storm. The final death rattle of someone too exhausted to speak—a shocking serenity yet a deadly reminder of one's mortality.
"Who-who are you?" Loki asked, the answer already forming in his fear-addled mind.
In the pale light of the torch flickering on the column above him, the skull appeared to smile though no visible muscles pulled on the bones. The being's fingers did not release as it contemplated Loki with wide, brown eyes framed by dark mascara.
"I am Death."
Jeoseung Sajas are like the grim reapers of Korean culture. If I get anything wrong, please let me know because I'm not super familiar with Korean folklore and history. They're typically depicted as male, but I already had Jiwoo prepared as a side character for future use. She originally wasn't going to be a reaper but I couldn't fit her in anywhere else and I wanted to use her eventually, so she's a reaper now. She might show up in "The Princess Diaries" (a sequel of sorts coming soon).
I have an origin story for Sleipnir already written ("An Eight-Legged What?!" if you're interested). I might not do Jormungandr and Fenris, so I added a glimpse of their origins in this chapter to sate your curiosity. I'm trying to keep things somewhat in line with the myths but Marvel completely changed Hela's parents in Thor Ragnarok, so I guess I've got more creative freedom involving mythological characters.