A Very Unlikely Tale // Loki

Chapter 8

I wake up to streaks of sunlight flickering across my eyelids, and a god awful crick in my neck. I am slumped over, head resting on my arms, and arms resting on the side of a bed. I sit up and look around, I had fallen asleep last night while reading away Loki's nightmares apparently. Where Loki is now however, I have no clue.

I rub my neck gently, "Owwww." I groan pitifully.

I am sore all over.

Note to self: next time, don't fall asleep before he does.

I make my way slowly to the center of the house, where I spy Loki staring into the flames of the little fire-place.

"Well, good-morning, Sunshine." I mutter.

"Good-morning." He says without so much as a glance.

I decide to ask him a question, one which could cause a variety of reactions from yelling to complete silence.

Stupid curiosity.

"Loki?"

"Hmm?"

I twiddle my thumbs. Nervous habit. "Loki you said that Odin isn't your father."  I glance at him.

He tenses and his eyes meet mine before he goes back to staring at the fire, "He isn't."

I shift in my place, silently urging him to continue.

With a heavy sigh, he says "I am Jötunn."

I remain standing there awkwardly, wishing I had studied some Norse mythology in my 379 years on Earth. "Right.  So that means... what does that mean?"

"It means I'm not even from Asgard, Flora!" He shouts.

I jump at the sudden loudness, "Okay, so..." I don't know what to say.  I am so bad at conversations.

He stands and begins pacing the room, "Jötunns are from Jötunheim.  They are vicious, cruel creatures of ice and madness.  They leave their smallest to die of exposure!"  He stops pacing and shuts his eyes, "They are monsters," and then more quietly, "I am a monster."

That damned word. 

So that's how he sees himself.  He sees himself as a creature. A monster to be feared and shunned.

Briefly, my mind flashes back to the day I took a bite of that blasted golden apple. 

He has made me a monster.

I shake my head slowly, "I don't believe that, Loki."

He laughs bitterly, "You do not understand."

"Then help me.  Help me understand." I look at him pleadingly, begging him to let me help in some way.

"You would fear me."  He stares intently at the floor, not meeting my eyes.  Well that won't do.

I cup his chin in my hand, forcing him to look at me, "Never."

He searches my eyes, looking for some sign of a lie.  

Finding none, he shakes his head and takes a step back, "The only magic Odin allowed me to keep was the illusion of appearing Asgardian." He flashes a pained smile, "Time to prove you wrong."

I fight the urge to scoff and instead stand there motionless.  Waiting.

And then I notice a change occurring.