As the clouds slowly gave way to moonlight and stars, Loki shook off the snow and smiled. Sitting alone in his mountain retreat his thoughts wandered from Odin, to brother Thor, and back again. Eons had been spent in battle for, and against, those two. But now Loki was seeking to distance himself from he ceaseless warring.
His retreat, cloaked in snows and cedar trees, was his alone. No mortal foot could step here, and no immortal would dare.
Loki considered his fate for a moment. Yes, he could make his way to the lower realms and become lost among the creatures there for a time, but in the end he always remembered who he was, and in doing so came to the furry of knowing that he is the one and only true king of Asgård.
In that remembering surely, as always, he would raise an army and lay seige to his beloved – and cursed – Asgård.
Loki pondered what an eternity in peace could mean. His studies could continue, perfecting the dark energies once again. He could hunt with his children, laying waste to Midgard was always an excellent choice.
Jörmungandr, the world serpent – one of his three children with that wench, the giantess Angrboða, slept now below the waves. And Fenrir the wolf, oldest of his children, was off in the snows devouring ice giants or children, whichever.
But his daughter was his pride. Hel, she lives beneath the roots of the World Tree. She is the Queen of Death, the collectors of the dead, the shining darkness… His child. She always makes him proud.
Just thinking of his beloved children had made his mind turn and suddenly he could hear the drums beating again. Loki stood, glanced into the fire for a moment and suddenly made his decision: war.
(to be continued)
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