I've got less than three weeks left until I graduate. I'm so nervous and yet excited at the same time.
In Norse mythology, The Catcher is a nickname for Odin. The Tangler is a nickname for Loki.
Chapter Eight: The Catcher vs The Tangler
Loki ran a finger along the raised runes shining gold across the leather-bound book. Three of them lay on his bed: baby books.
Sitting cross-legged, Loki opened the one furthest to the left and read the information he had written on the first page long ago in neat black ink.
Sleipnir Lokison: roughly a hundred pounds at birth. Labor had taken three hours total and hurt like hell, but the foal had arrived in perfect health. Sleipnir also had taken his first steps well within the first hour after delivery.
The next page had an ink print of one of Sleipnir's hooves. A short lock of brown-black hair from the foal's mane curled diagonally across the page from where Loki had taped it a month after Sleipnir's birth. His first horseshoe, small and worn from use, lay in a box usually kept in Loki's closet. Now, the box sat on his bed alongside two other boxes and the books.
The rest of the baby book contained Sleipnir's favorites and firsts. He loved apples, hated anything meat, and enjoyed running around all day. The book detailed his four years of life, including a list of birthday gifts, first words, and records of his height and weight.
The two other books contained similar information for Jormungandr and Fenris.
Jormungandr Lokison: about ten pounds at birth and already three feet long when he hatched. Jormungandr's first shed snakeskin had become crumbly and dry despite Loki's best efforts to preserve it. He had quite the appetite at birth and would hiss at anyone who dared approach when eating. It had taken a few months to break the habit.
His incubator, a brilliant design of silver and marble, could not fit in the box of old toys, so it sat on its own in Loki's closet. He should have thrown it away because he doubted anyone would use it again, but he didn't have the heart to toss it in the trash. The thought of the incubator brought memories of watching the large egg every night and anticipating the first signs of hatching.
Fenris Lokison: five pounds at birth, yet very wiggly despite being blind. It took him a week before he opened his eyes, but it didn't stop him from whining for food every hour or trying to sniff his surroundings on weak, stubby limbs.
The ink print of his paw, taken at one month, could fit in a child's palm. Now, Fenris's paws outmatched Thor's hands, and he had the strength to defend himself on the rare occasions Jormungandr convinced Sleipnir to team up against the youngest. Fenris couldn't eat chocolate or grapes, yet he chewed on everything, including Mjolnir (Thor had to get a new hilt), when he started teething.
All three had grown up so much, and each had distinct personalities like every other Asgardian. How anyone would consider them freaks of nature, Loki had no idea. Sure, Sleipnir's abnormal number of legs scared the other horses, Jormungandr had an occasional rude attitude often associated with toddlers, and Fenris had gotten so big he ate more than Volgstagg. If they looked like any other Asgardian, people would write off their mischievous behavior as typical mannerisms of children their age. However, since Sleipnir had four legs too many, Jormungandr had a venomous bite, and Fenris towered over everyone when standing on his hind legs, nobody wanted to befriend them.
Most people, like Odin, refused to look past the physical differences. Sleipnir loved reading and had the wit to match his quick running speed. Jormungandr contented himself with basking in the sun all day, wrestling with his uncle, or pranking his brothers in harmless fun. Fenris loved cuddles and could score a treat from anyone with just a simple, wide, teary-eyed stare and a sad tilt of his head. For the most part, people tolerated Fenris, acted indifferent about Sleipnir, and feared Jormungandr, all because they had varying stages of "pretty privilege."
Not that they got much of an opportunity to meet new people. The boys rarely left the palace grounds; Odin had all but officially banned them from stepping foot outside the perimeter. The palace covered a lot of space, both indoors and out, but at times it felt like Odin wanted to hide them from view. To him, they were not his grandsons: they were reminders of humiliation no king would want to bear.
Odin hated them, and he hated Hela, in the brief moments they had met, too. Perhaps Hela would have a happier life, free from a spiteful grandfather and the apparent dishonor Loki had cast upon the family by having three children out of wedlock and one with Death herself.
He still missed her, though, and would for his entire life.
Loki would never have the chance to fill a baby book for his daughter. He could make one just to have it, but it would only contain speculations instead of actual first-hand accounts. He would never know when Hela would take her first steps or say her first word. He would never know if she would like the color scheme he had picked out for her nursery. Would she have a lively personality or be shy yet cunning? Would she even want to become queen of the Nordic afterlife realms? Would she be a gentle yet firm ruler or one who prefers fear instead of adoration?
Sighing, Loki unfurled his legs and swung them over the edge of his bed to stretch. He stood, gathered the books in his arms, and carried them to his desk. He put the boxes back into his closet and started preparing for bed when he paused at his door.
Between his bedroom and adjoining bathroom, a huge living area revealed bookshelves and soft sofas. Along the wall opposite the one connecting the living area to Loki's bedrooms were three doors, one for each child. The doors were slightly ajar, each room dark.
Loki stopped in the doorway and stared across the parlor at the three. Builders had added a new room each time Loki brought a child home. With how much space each bedroom spanned, Loki almost claimed a whole half of the floor to himself. Thank the Norns they had thought ahead, because if not for the large rooms, both Jormungandr and Fenris would have outgrown theirs a while ago. They had more than enough space to move around comfortably, with plenty more to spare.
They would never add a fourth door.
His feet started moving across the living area before his mind took notice. Out of habit, Loki hesitated at each doorway, peering in to check on his sons' sleeping forms. This time, however, a mounting anxiety pushed him to ensure nobody had harmed his boys.
Sleipnir's room resembled an open pasture. An actual living tree grew in the middle where he now lay sprawled on a large, lowered bed. During the day, the ceiling shone sky blue with lights built in to shift the color to a darkened, starry sky to match the one currently outside. The half-moon in the corner of the ceiling glowed a pale yellow, faintly illuminating Sleipnir's shiny gray coat. A few ornate bookshelves lined the far wall. The silk curtains on the open window rustled slightly from the fresh breeze.
Sleipnir looked fine.
Jormungandr's room resembled a terrarium more than a bedroom. He had a small pond for swimming, plenty of rocks and caves to hide in, and thick, leafy trees planted in each corner to climb on. A glowing yellow orb hung in the middle of the room directly above his favorite sunning boulder. Right now, it cast the room in a silvery wash of color instead of its daytime gold. A green hammock hung between the branches of two trees, the tip of Jormungandr's nose poking out over the edge. If he didn't know what to look for, Loki couldn't spot his son snoozing away among the trees.
Nobody had bothered Jormungandr.
Fenris's room looked…chaotic, in terms of decoration. Out of all three, his mirrored a typical bedroom the most, if not for the jungle gym of sorts on one half of the room. He had slides, a bridge, and even a little, currently empty, splash pool. The other half had a giant box full of toys, something he could never keep organized, no matter how many times Loki reminded him to pick them up before bedtime. Nose prints at various heights stained the large window despite the maids' best efforts to keep it clean. Fenris lay curled in a ball on his giant, soft bed around his favorite plushie of a bilgesnipe, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail twitching slowly in his sleep.
Fenris seemed comfy.
The boys looked peaceful, and if not for the events of the last day or so, Loki would have gone to sleep right away. Instead, he lingered in the parlor, unable to tear his gaze from the doors.
He considered contacting Sigyn; she might be up, even at this late hour. He hadn't seen her in months, and she deserved to know what had happened. She wouldn't judge him, just act as a sympathetic shoulder to lean on because she had a calm, gentle nature, something the boys absolutely adored.
Sigyn loved his children as if they were her own, proving to Loki that she would fit right in with his family whenever he chose to ask for her hand in marriage. She wanted to wait until they were a little older, and so Loki obliged.
The only issue: waiting meant he had caught the attention of other women. Normally, a horde of swooning women followed Thor around and doted on his every need whenever he chose to give them the time of day. One glaring difference between Thor and Loki's experiences: Thor had vacuous ladies vying for his attention, while Loki had clever witches (Sigyn aside) hiding in the shadows and waiting to make the right move to use him for whatever scheme they had concocted.
This meant Loki didn't have the choice of saving himself for Sigyn. Sleipnir had been an accident he did not wish to repeat, though he loved his eldest dearly. Much like Lady Death, the Jotun witch Angrboda had set her sights on Loki long ago, which resulted in the birth of two of Loki's sons. Sigyn had understood the circumstances then, even though the choices involving Angrboda looked akin to infidelity. She hadn't broken off their relationship in anger, so Loki doubted Sigyn would do it now, especially when the situation had a clear power imbalance.
Pacing the length of the room, Loki set his patrol to cross the three doors, turn around at the window that gazed above the sleeping city, and repeat. Stars twinkled in the night, and the moon tossed shadows through the thin curtains.
Loki couldn't rest. Moving helped release some of the jitters, yet he could not stop ruminating over all the choices that led him to this night.
If he had never tried to trick the builder's horse to save Freyja from marrying some oaf, Sleipnir would never have been born. If he had never gone along with one of Thor's many stupid adventures into distant realms, Angrboda never would have seen Loki and used her sorcery to conscript him into fathering two children. If he had stuck to himself, listened to Odin, and never attempted any magic, Lady Death would not have imprisoned him. If none of his children had been born, they never would have faced bullying and disappointed comments from both the citizens and their grandfather.
Perhaps he should take his sons and run away to some planet no Asgardian cared about. He might be able to convince Sigyn to join them, but she had more of a social life than he did and would not hastily partake in their self-imposed ostracization without much consideration. Frigga and Thor would visit because the boys deserved to see their grandmother and uncle.
Yet, no matter how much he wished to find someplace else that would accept his children as actual living, intelligent beings instead of simple, soulless creatures, he couldn't tear his sons away from their home. Asgard, with all its faults and inconsiderate people, still had more opportunities than anywhere else. Bullying, while awful, could happen anywhere, so he would stay and teach the boys how to handle the real world. He couldn't take the chance to uproot everything only to discover something worse than here.
A door creaked open, yet Loki did not hear anyone approach until someone stopped and cleared a throat. It might have been the first time Thor managed to sneak up on Loki. He would not admit to startling at the sight of his older brother suddenly standing a few feet away.
"Can't sleep?" Thor asked. He had his hair loose around his shoulders, the tips falling softly near his chin. He swore he would grow a beard to rival Volstagg's, so his thick beard covered his mouth. Loki preferred a shorter beard, but Thor wouldn't hear any reasonable fashion advice.
Loki sighed and stopped in the middle of the room. He rested an arm across his chest and leaned his other elbow on it to chew on the nail of his pinky finger in thought.
Thor's feet, though bare and on a plush rug, thumped heavily when he walked over to stand at Loki's side. He placed a hand on Loki's shoulder and said, "You are not to blame for any of this."
Loki rolled his eyes and kept staring at the trio of doors. "Father thinks otherwise. I destroyed his throne room and got his spear broken."
"He will have the dwarves repair it."
"Something broken will never compare to the original, even with the combined talents of the dwarves."
"Perhaps," Thor said, "But Father is in the wrong here."
Loki scoffed and shrugged off Thor's hand. "Really? You're usually on Father's side, not mine."
To his credit, Thor briefly hung his head. Then he straightened and frowned. "Lady Death almost killed us. That is one battle no one can win. I do not agree with Father; if Lady Death wanted you, then nothing could stand in her way, not even him. That's what I think."
"Yeah, well, what I think is that she bruised Father's pride, and he doesn't want to admit it, so he's blaming me for almost getting everyone killed!" Loki hissed, then rapidly checked the doors for movement. When none of the boys stirred, he glared at Thor, but his sullen energy dulled the heat.
"You tried your best, and if not for your sacrifice, we all would have died," Thor replied, wisely lowering his voice to a whisper to not disturb the boys' sleep.
Sacrifice.
Is that what they were calling his choice to give up his daughter in exchange for everyone else?
Boiling every decision, every detail, every emotion, down to one measly word would never fully encompass everything. It was a horrid bargain from the start, and they all knew it. Only, Odin would never admit that Loki had very little say in the matter and had subsequently lost more than the All-Father would ever know, or care about.
One less grandchild meant a win in his books.
Loki turned his attention to the doors again as tears stung his eyes. Several minutes passed before he whispered so quietly he didn't know if Thor could hear, "Am I a good father?"
The elder prince closed the distance in one step and pulled Loki into a tight embrace. A large hand cupped the back of Loki's head while the other arm anchored him against Thor's broad chest. Loki stood limp, his arms at his side, letting Thor bear his weight.
"You chose life when many would have either abandoned their children or preferred them dead," Thor said.
Tears rolled down Loki's cheeks, and he dropped his forehead heavily against Thor's shoulder.
"It's not much of a life when hardly anyone cares about their existence," Loki mumbled.
"You're making the best out of your circumstances."
"Father hates them."
"Father is a half-blind fool. He cannot see what you do."
Loki snorted and pulled back. Thor loosened his grip. "Father is perfectly capable of seeing, he just chooses not to."
"He might come around."
"He hasn't so far."
Thor had no reply. Loki turned and walked over to a sofa and sat down hard, still staring at the bedroom doors.
"I'm tired of fighting, Thor," Loki admitted, and Norns, it hurt to say it, to bear himself in front of his brother like this. But once the words came, they tumbled out and no amount of shoving could push them back in. "Don't get me wrong, I'll fight for my family, but I shouldn't have to. It shouldn't be a struggle to watch people either ignore or run away from my sons. And yet...there is little I can do other than bear witness to everyone treating them worse than even the poorest farmer's pigs. It hurts because I want people to love them, but I know I cannot force acceptance upon anyone.
"I want my boys to be happy, and I would give them anything, but how am I supposed to explain why nobody wants to be their friend? Their own grandfather detests them, and I know they can tell. Just before bedtime, Fenris asked me what 'abomination' meant. He's two, Thor, two! They're all toddlers; who in their right mind would call them that?! Saying it behind their backs is bad enough, but to their face—!"
Thor rushed over and plopped down beside him before pulling him into another hug. Loki allowed him and didn't care when his tears stained the front of Thor's nightshirt.
They sat there for a while, Thor rubbing Loki's back and Loki sobbing into Thor's chest.
"Maybe you need some sleep," Thor suggested after a long time passed in relative silence. "We have all had a long day, you more than most."
"I wish I could," Loki said. He leaned away. Thor adjusted himself so they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, Thor bearing most of Loki's weight. "I know I need it, but I cannot shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen."
"Lady Death is gone. The fight is over," Thor said. He reached around the back of the sofa to tug the throw blanket resting over the edge out from behind them. Fluffing it out, he draped it over Loki.
"It's not her," Loki shook his head. He accepted the blanket and tugged it under his chin while tucking his legs to half lie along the seat of the sofa.
"Do you really think Father would do something?" Thor asked.
"I don't know. It's a possibility."
"Is that why you are guarding the boys' rooms?"
Loki ignored the accurate observation. Perhaps he was keeping watch over the boys in case someone threatened them. Earlier, he told himself he only stood vigil in case one of them had a nightmare, which, given the events of the last day, was in the realm of possibility, but he knew another reason prevented him from stepping away for even a minute.
Anxiety had consumed the entire time it took to clean up after the fight and later tuck the boys in bed. Anything could happen. Despite her promises to leave them alone, Death could return and finish the job. The guards could haul the boys away while Loki slept. Sigyn might appear anytime and decide to break up with him for once again 'cheating' on her. A mob of angry citizens could kick down the door and slaughter the boys unawares.
So, yes, he worried something might happen, and he couldn't sleep because of it. The last time he left the boys on their own ended with Death holding him prisoner in the Afterlife for nine months. He would rather sew his own lips shut for the rest of his life than let anyone seize the opportunity to exploit his lack of attention again.
"Hela's room could have been here," Loki said instead of admitting his fears to his brother. He had already given too much to Thor tonight. If Thor hated anything, he hated cowards the most.
Confidence was the key to the door of success that Loki currently could not unlock.
Thor said nothing, just sat vigil beside his brother. The fact that he had not left to retire to his own chambers proved Thor's willingness to do everything in his power to protect the boys. At least the boys could depend on their uncle. And grandmother. And Sigyn.
Surely, those should be more than enough?
More relaxed than earlier and assured he would not fight any upcoming battles alone, Loki rested his head on Thor's shoulder and stared at the doors. Before he knew it, he dozed off, his dreams surprisingly empty.
-oOo-
A whole week passed before Odin summoned Loki to the throne room.
In the meantime, Loki spent every waking moment with his sons. He knew it would never amend the time he had lost, but they appreciated his presence anyway.
He had told Sigyn about what had happened, and, as expected, she did not fault him. She had said nothing but encouraging, sympathetic words when he had cried for nearly an hour earlier in the week, explaining everything. She had agreed to visit the boys later this afternoon, but the guards appearing at Loki's chamber doors brought an unforeseen wrench in any plans.
A guard flanked Loki on either side to escort him to the throne room. Normally, it wouldn't bother him because armed warriors always patrolled the palace and followed the royal family on official business. This time, the presence of the soldiers, though silent other than their initial greeting, had an air of finality that put Loki on edge.
Thor and Frigga were already waiting, each with their own assigned guards standing a respectful distance away. The guards for Loki, however, stayed close, as if they anticipated retaliation.
"What is the meaning of this?" Frigga asked. Her eyes fell on Loki, yet she directed the question to Odin.
Odin stood at the bottom step of his throne. Still in the process of repair, the grand hall had areas marked off and a wide berth around the hole in the middle of the floor. The dwarves, though, had hurried to fix the All-Father's spear.
From where Loki stood, he could not see any blemish on the weapon held tight in Odin's hand. It looked the same as ever except for a yellow, oval gem attached between the spearhead and the shaft. The new addition seemed strange and rather off-putting; the power radiating from the spear felt higher than normal and wholly unsettling.
A mark of true craftsmanship, nobody who did not know about the fight would have guessed Death had snapped it in half: the dwarves had talent. Nevertheless, the king's knuckles clenched white; he had not forgotten how it felt to have Death humiliate him by breaking one of Asgard's most formidable weapons in two like a twig.
Loki stepped around the giant hole in the stone floor and met his mother's eyes. He could feel Odin watching him, waiting for him to say or do something worth condemning, but Loki would not give him the satisfaction of confirming the king's biased preconceptions.
"This is a family matter," Odin announced.
"Then why are there guards present?" Loki snarked, finally meeting his father's hardened glare. The same accusatory stare he had found himself on the receiving end more than he cared throughout the years should not bother him anymore, but something about Odin's demeanor felt different. More intense yet hesitant, like he made a difficult decision he might come to regret.
Loki sniffed. Odin didn't need any sympathy. Whenever something on Asgard went awry, the king always blamed Loki first. Sure, Loki had a mischievous personality and often rightfully fulfilled the godly title Odin had given to him centuries ago, but more often than not, being the designated god of mischief meant others could pin all their problems onto Loki: a scapegoat god.
It had gotten predictable, if not a little tiresome. Lately, though, the blame seemed to fall on Loki's sons more and more over the years, which started to piss him off.
Let the All-Father blame Loki for everything from a scroll going missing in the archives down to a stubbed toe from a misplaced table leg. Leave the boys out of this.
"Odin," Frigga repeated, her tone unusually sharp, "why are we here?"
Odin turned his head to acknowledge his wife. The movement put Loki in Odin's blind spot, giving him a reprieve from the king's stern glare.
Loki stared at the golden eyepatch covering his father's right eye and, not for the first time, wondered if Odin considered the loss a sign of weakness. Asgard revered battle scars—people loved a good fight—but Odin seemed to view them as failures. To him, being a great warrior meant he should have the power to slice through his enemies without receiving a single mark on his person.
Scars meant even the fiercest warriors were still just men underneath all the angry bravado. The All-Father, despite his immense power, could still get injured, could still die. And, it must irritate him to no end.
For a brief moment, Loki almost smirked; Death had knocked Odin down a few pegs, and the king had deserved it for not listening to Loki. Eventually, though, the anger of embarrassment would fall onto Loki, and it wouldn't be so funny then. Odin prided himself on his ability to rule the Nine Realms under an iron fist. Any mess Loki found himself in the center of, from no fault of his own or not, only reminded Odin that even the king of Asgard couldn't control everything.
The people had seen Death best Odin in combat, and he hated it. Fixing the judgmental stares required throwing Loki under the metaphorical and literal battleship and letting the anchor drag him down while Odin stood on the deck and watched Loki drown in the unforgiving waves.
The lack of response annoyed Loki, so he strode forward to confront his father. The guards flanking the king reacted by crossing their spears in an X to block the prince from coming closer.
Loki tossed his head and steeled his jaw in response to having his path blocked. Let Odin pretend the people still respected him enough to fear the king, even though everyone knew Death had knocked him aside easier than swatting a fly.
"If you summoned me here to blame me for Death's actions, then just say it," Loki said, his tone even and defiant.
Odin's eye twitched, and his grip on the spear tightened to turn his knuckles an even paler shade of white. The guards kept their spears crossed, a clear warning to stay put. Father and son stared each other down, neither willing to back off first.
"You have brought destruction and death upon Asgard," Odin finally said, his glare never wavering.
"Nobody died," Loki corrected.
"We were on the brink of eternal damnation because of you," Odin snarled. "I have had enough of your trickery."
"Everything I know about deception, I learned from you," Loki snapped. "If not for me, you would still be hanging by your neck from that pillar." He jabbed a finger at the offending stone column. Someone had removed the vines and branches; the potted plant had also disappeared, probably on Odin's command.
"Odin," Frigga interjected, "the threat has passed. It would do us all some good to move on instead of accusing each other when the situation was out of our control. Nobody can challenge Lady Death and survive. Nobody."
"Shut your mouth, woman," Odin growled. "This is between Loki and me."
Stubbornness ran in the royal family; Frigga didn't back down. She stomped closer, shrugging off the guards when they moved alongside her. "You summoned me here, too. Anything you have to say to Loki, you say in front of me. I am his mother."
"You are not—" Odin started to shout, then quickly cut himself off when Frigga's eyes widened. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he continued, "We are here to discuss the matter of Loki's actions involving his illegitimate children. They were born out of wedlock and, therefore, are not considered part of this family. Whatever previous notions and royal status no longer apply."
Loki bit his tongue, wisely not mentioning that Death wanted a consummated marriage for this particular reason. Yes, the boys were born out of wedlock, but Hela was not. And he would never see her again until the day he died.
The grand doors suddenly burst open, followed by the march of footsteps and the click-clack of little nails or hooves on the stone floor. Loki whipped around; the guards at his sides tensed but did not move.
"Odin—" Frigga chided, her spot allowing her to see the new arrivals first. "This has gotten out of hand."
A group of guards entered the throne room, each quartet dragging prisoners in various states of cooperation behind them. An angry hiss sliced through the air, followed by a pained curse from something heavy hitting metal armour.
"I will not hear any objections," Odin said as the guards and quarry strode into the hall. "I have final say, and you will not challenge my decisions."
A tremor of surprise washed over Loki when the prisoners finally fell into his line of view. Mouth dropping open, he let out an involuntary gasp and took a step forward.
Twelve guards in three groups of four held fast to chains tied around the neck and torso of three prisoners. One of the prisoners struggled, another trembled, and the other looked around as if bewildered.
"No…" Loki breathed.
His gaze caught Fenris's attention first. The wolf's tail gave a half-hearted wag, but his brown eyes were so full of confusion and betrayal that the enthusiasm of seeing his father did not last.
Jormungandr, ever the short fuse, whipped his head side to side in an attempt to loosen the grips of the guards holding the ends of the chain around his neck. Fang bared and eyes narrowed, he kept the guards on their toes with his strength. Once he locked eyes with Loki, the large serpent blew out a frustrated hiss and slowed his fight from wild thrashing to a tense coil.
Sleipnir's slender legs shook a little from the bridle on him. He barely tolerated horseshoes and would flat-out refuse any other horse tack. He would also buck and kick whenever someone attempted to ride him. A year ago, a little boy had jumped onto him for a dare from his moronic friends and subsequently broke his elbow when Sleipnir reacted in shock. Nobody dared to even attempt to dress Sleipnir in typical horse gear, let alone ride him, again.
Daddy, Fenris whimpered. Why are they so mean?
Jormungandr let out a slew of curses he certainly did not learn from his father. Sleipnir stayed quiet, watching the scene in contemplation while trying to put on a brave face for his younger brothers.
First, anger overtook Loki. He had left the boys to play in their chambers under the care of one of the more friendly servants. Apparently, nobody had the spine or the guts to question the motives when the king ordered guards to seize his own grandchildren from their playrooms.
He would have to find a new servant.
Then, sadness broke his heart at seeing the betrayal in his boys' eyes. Every guard, every trained warrior, swore an oath to protect the throne and the royal family, not parade them into the throne room in chains.
Finally, outrage sparked Loki from his stupor, and he sprang into motion. He whipped toward the king and stalked forward, having little to go before the king's guards steadied their X. The guards assigned to Loki moved along, too, their hands ready in case he dared to attack his father.
"Let them go," Loki hissed, his voice dangerously quiet. His hands balled into fists at his side, and only the desire not to teach his boys to resort immediately to violence kept him from lashing out.
"The humans have prophesied Asgard's destruction," Odin said, an acceptable excuse to chain his grandsons, only in the king's eyes.
"And what? We're listening to mortals now?" Loki snapped. "Most of those stories are false."
"Your offspring are abominations."
"They're kids!"
"You're not thinking with your head."
"You're not thinking with your heart!"
"Father—" Thor interjected, breaking the stand-off.
Odin pushed past the guards protecting him and stepped toward the crown prince. "A good king knows when to trust his instincts and prepare for the worst. Sometimes, it involves making difficult decisions for the sake of your people."
Thor's mouth opened, then shut into a frown. "That's not…" He jerked his head. "Don't turn this into a lesson about 'difficult decisions'; they're scared!"
Odin did not follow where Thor gestured at the boys.
"Odin, this is madness," Frigga protested.
"For the safety of Asgard, I will cast the beasts out of this realm," Odin said, ignoring everyone's indignation. He turned to Loki. "You will never see them again, so say your goodbyes now."
Loki faltered, the announcement hitting him harder than a punch to the gut. Breathless, his heart hammered in rapidly increasing beats. His head swam, and he choked out a weak "No."
Odin took his answer as a refusal to say goodbye and gave three quick taps of his spear onto the floor. The guards surrounding the boys tugged on the chains and started pulling them back through the doors.
Something inside Loki burst, and his feet tore themselves from the ground. He surged forward, but the guards beside him caught him by the biceps and held him in place.
"No!" Loki shouted. He brought his hands forward and then pushed them back, letting loose a double blast of energy that sent the guards flying backward.
Spurred by their father's actions, the boys renewed their struggles. Jormungandr headbutted a guard into a pillar and swept his tail under another's feet. Fenris growled and bit the nearest soldier hard enough to sever the man's hand at the wrist. Sleipnir kicked out behind him, catching another in the chest, and left a hoof-shaped dent in the front of the man's armour.
Loki's vision narrowed, all thoughts focusing entirely on reaching his sons. He fought through a group of soldiers and only slowed down when they outnumbered him. Someone tackled him from behind, and he fell onto his stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him. More guards rushed over to pin him down, their weight squeezing on his chest and making it even harder to breathe.
"I'm sorry, my prince," one of them whispered into his ear.
'Sorry?'
Bullshit.
Loki clenched his teeth and summoned a ball of energy. It burst outward in a green bubble and flung the soldiers off. Metal clattered on stone when they landed, punctuated by pained grunts.
A high-pitched squeal followed by a deafening hiss pulsed through the hall. Pushing himself to his feet, Loki saw Sleipnir lying on the ground, a front leg jutting out at an odd angle. Above the horse, Jormungandr had drawn himself to his full height, the frills on the sides of his head fanned out. The light bounced off and exposed his fangs, ready to strike at a guard who slowly backed away from Sleipnir's side.
In the corner of his eye, Loki saw Odin raise his spear, aiming at Jormungandr. Moving faster than he ever had in his life, Loki sprinted forward and blocked the beam.
The blast struck him across the chest while mid-step and knocked him halfway across the throne room. He hit the ground hard and slid to a halt at the foot of a pillar.
Through lidded eyes, Loki saw Jormungandr sink his fangs into the guard who had broken Sleipnir's leg. A howl of pain from the man rang in Loki's ears, splitting Loki's already aching head in two. The power of Gungnir's beam left Loki trembling in throbbing aches. Wisps of smoke curled up from the front of his shirt, the skin burned underneath from where it had sliced diagonally across his chest.
"Stop…" Loki muttered, too weak to hold his head up, let alone speak. "Stop…"
Tears stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Someone caught the loose end of one of the dangling chains around Jormungandr's neck and yanked him down. Sleipnir cried again when something jostled his broken leg and tried to scramble to his seven remaining feet to get away, only to be roughly shoved back down. Several guards struggled to hold Fenris, who yowled and thrashed, in place.
Frigga yelled at Odin, her face inches away from her husband's, the most pissed-off Loki had ever seen her. Her fingers glowed a faint teal blue from where she gesticulated wildly.
Loki groaned and clutched his chest with one arm as he tried to sit upright against the pillar. "No…stop…please…"
Mjolnir sailed through the window and landed perfectly in Thor's grasp. The smell of ozone filled the air, and electricity arched along the ceiling. Thunder rolled in the distance as Thor entered the fray.
Before Thor could fully join the fight, Odin slammed the bottom of his spear onto the ground, the strike echoing like an earthquake in the throne room. The strange gem inside it pulsed yellow once, and everyone stopped in their tracks as if frozen by an invisible force. Thor fell from where he had lept into the air, his hammer falling from his grasp when he struck the floor limp.
The wave of power struck Loki, and his vision went black.
Happy Easter! :D
The next chapter is more of an epilogue. The number nine is significant to Hela (and Asgard, i.e., Nine Realms), so I wanted nine chapters for her origin story. In the myths, Angrboda and Loki were never married, though she is the mother of Jormungandr, Fenris, and Hel(a).