"Monster" by Imagine Dragons *Runaground version*
AVA
As I opened my eyes, the reality of my surroundings flooded in. I found myself ensconced within the opulent confines of what appeared to be a grand hotel suite, every corner adorned with an aura of luxury and refinement. The room exuded a palpable elegance, its walls and floors adorned with iridescent granite that shimmered in the soft glow of golden sconces.
My gaze swept across the expanse of the room, taking in the majestic four-poster bed draped in cream and gold, its regal presence commanding attention. Golden pillows, in various shapes and sizes, adorned its surface, inviting repose amidst their plush embrace.
In the distance, a fireplace crackled with a warmth. A writing desk was nestled in the far corner. Nearby, shelves brimmed with books, their spines whispering tales of worlds both known and unknown.
Some were cherished old fairytales, alongside true stories that stirred recognition within me. An autobiography of an ancient king of Asgard lay beside a fairy tale featuring a wise old tree stump and a talking river. Another book recounted the timeless tale of Eros and Psyche. I knew these books not only from glimpses in Loki's bedroom but also from the countless times I had read them to his children...
"Ahh..." I murmured, a sharp pain shooting through my skull, causing me to clutch my head. It felt as though someone or something were wielding a relentless cudgel inside my mind. Amidst the agony, flashes of memory flickered—a little boy with jet-black hair and soft blue eyes nestled on my lap. His giggles echoed as I negotiated "just one more chapter" before bedtime, his attempts to extend story time met with playful resistance.
"Why am I remembering this..." I whispered, massaging my temples as the pain gradually ebbed.
"My apologies. Extracting memories is not a pleasant process, mother."
I startled, recognizing the rich, soothing voice. I hadn't noticed Jormungand's presence until he spoke; it seemed he had been observing me for some time. "You caused this..." I breathed, referring to the pain in my head and the memories it stirred.
Jormungand pursed his lips before providing a grave nod. "Twas the only way to allow you to remember your past as Sigyn."
"You have me mistaken for someone else," I muttered, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face. "My name is Ava James, I'm-"
"Of Asgardian decent, long thought to have perished in the bloody aftermath of Ragnorok. I know exactly who you are."
"I'm not Sigyn."
Jormungand chuckled softly, his dark hair swaying as he shook his head. "Of course not. You merely bear a striking resemblance to her, and you possess her voice and spirit."
It was my expression that caused Jormungand's smirk to falter. "My apologies, mother. It was not my intent to belittle you. It's simply amusing that you still don't fully grasp your true heritage."
I snorted in disbelief. "A figure descended from myth by human standards? Reincarnated wife, adoptive mother of three adult children...?"
"Exactly."
"I don't buy it. None of this seems real! Do you have any idea how long I've spent feeling like I'm losing my mind?" I didn't pause for his response, my frustration fueling my words. "Almost my entire life! I grew up dreaming of people, things, and places that, according to books and movies, exist only in the realm of imagination."
"Where do you think those stories came from...?" Jormungand interjected, materializing a few feet away from me. His words left me speechless. "Do you believe humans conjured these myths and legends out of thin air? Do you think everything you've dreamed about regarding Father, myself, Fenrir, and Hel is mere fantasy?"
I couldn't answer him. I couldn't even meet his gaze. The sight of Jormungand's pale, handsome face triggered a flood of memories that shouldn't exist—his first steps in human form, his joy at tasting chicken for the first time, his playful antics as a snake, the tender moments when I rocked him to sleep, and the heartbreaks of his teenage years that I had comforted him through.
My headache intensified as these strange images surged through my mind. I couldn't say how long I sat there, clutching my head as these vivid visions played out in my skull. Tears welled up in my eyes, not from the pain, but from the bittersweet recollection of the sweet little serpent I had known and cherished, and the memories of him growing into a young man. I couldn't comprehend how or if any of this was possible, but one thing was certain: I loved Jormungand as if he were truly my own son.
More memories flooded my mind: Jormungand seeking my advice, confiding in me about his sister's teasing. He was the first child I taught to cook a meal of kale and sausage stew, and the first to develop a deep love for reading and writing. Even when the truth was revealed to the triplets that they were not biologically mine, Jormungand had been the first to defy his father, insisting that blood relations didn't matter. He declared his love for me as his mother, regardless of whether I had given birth to him or not.
"My dear boy..." I whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I wiped away my tears. The flood of memories felt more real with each passing moment, as if they were engrained in my very being, waiting to be rediscovered.
"Welcome home, mother." Jormungand's smile held a tinge of sadness, even heartbreak, reflected in his eyes. "Time is of the essence," he whispered hoarsely, suddenly seizing my wrist, and pulling me close. His voice, though soothing, was urgent, barely above a whisper. "You are currently the most wanted soul by the majority of realms. Father's head is wanted for his crimes against the gods. You are the leverage they want to use against him."
"Why?" My voice trembled with disbelief and fear.
"You are the only woman he has ever truly cared for."
"I don't believe you. I don't..." A sharp pain shot through my head as a new memory intruded, an ugly one. This memory didn't feel like my own; it seemed to belong to Jormungand. He was a young man, no older than twenty-five, tears streaming down his face as he comforted his sobbing sister beside him. Fenrir's anger echoed in the background, but it was Loki who captured Jormungand's attention as he emerged from the shadows. The grand throne room of Asgard provided the backdrop, the setting for their family's turmoil. As Hela collapsed in tears, it was Jormungand's voice that rang out through the room as Loki reached for a bottle of wine and a firestone. "Father! What are you doing!?"
"Giving the bitch a proper burial," Loki drawled, a twisted smile upon his handsome face as he walked forward. Jormungand shook his head and chased after his father. He grabbed his arm to pull him away from the coffin, but it was a futile effort. The immortal god of Mischief was far stronger than his second child. Jormungand was thrown across the room, hitting the wall hard. Fenrir was busy throwing a tantrum of his own, flinging objects, while Hela cried loudly.
Jormungand then attempted to stop Loki by transforming himself into a massive snake at least fifty-feet long. Fenrir growled as Hela sobbed harder on the floor. Loki took a chunk of stone out of the nearby wall to launch it at his son's face. Jormungand could not move as his father's cruelty stunned him. He shifted back to a human form, holding his bleeding forehead as he looked on. That was when the action of the memory truly started. Loki had smashed the wine bottle inside the coffin, splattering the body inside with an overwhelming amount of alcohol. From there, he threw down the fire stone and ignored his children's sobs, hisses, or screams. The body inside the coffin started to blaze immediately.
Jormungand ran to stop the fire, only for Loki to throw him back using telekinesis once more. The young man was appalled. "YOU BLOODY FOOL! WE COULD BRING HER BACK!" He screamed at his father, tears running down his handsome face as he looked on the verge of sobbing like his sister.
"There is no use for a traitor among us," Loki replied curtly, kicking the coffin down that held the burning body. As his siblings released their own cries or screams of heartbreaking anguish, Jormungand dropped to the floor as he watched his father skulk away and out of the room. Jormungand clutched his temples as his tears fell, his eyes drifting to the burning coffin, just as the flames engulfed his adoptive mother...
I released a guttural scream upon the memory fading. Jormungand braced his hands on my shoulders to steady me. The horrid noise died from me after a few moments, only once I seemed to pull away completely from the ugly memory. A light display of tears gently left Jormungand's eyes he watched me, inspiring me to take a hand to brush them away. I couldn't help myself.
Jormungand was once my sweet little boy who loved reading and writing. He was the calmest of his siblings, always rational and never volatile or temperamental like Hela or Fenrir. Here and now, even though he was a grown man many centuries older than I, it was obvious that little boy I raised still resided inside of him. I could see it; I could feel it. This was my baby boy, now a full-grown man. Ignoring how strange it was to be thinking this near stranger was my very own son, I launched myself at him for a hug, my hand going to the back of Jormungand's head to stroke it just as I had when he was but a boy and had broken his arm falling out of a tall tree. "My little serpent," I whispered, squeezing him tighter.
"Oh drop the act, Sigyn," Fenrir scolded gruffly. Jormungand hugged me back, ignoring his brother's words. My eyes drifted to the doorway to watch the burly man glare at me. "You are here to ensure King Loki does not trade anything for your safety. Nothing more-"
"I had forgotten...You stopped enjoying hugs the older you became," I said quietly. "Warriors do not hug, mother..." I recalled him saying, laughing softly. The memories of Jormungand had also displayed Fenrir. The older the brothers became, the more I strangely remembered Fenrir was always trying to prove himself better than others in regard to fighting. He was a warrior through and through, believing hugs and tenderness were only for the weak. I would always scold him for this for what I deemed stupidity in thought...
Fenrir gave pause to his advancing, watching me with uncertainty. He was taller and a lot stronger than me. Even still, saying such words seemed to rattle him on a personal level. He said and did nothing else, but I could see by his face that I startled him. Finally, he collected himself. His brown eyes held strong loathing as he watched me. "You are not my mother, Sigyn. You never were."
I nearly cried as a sharp pain shot through my head once more. Shooting Jormungand a glance, I realized it was magical manipulation on his part that caused the memory to pierce through my skull. "You were angry at me when we told you," I recalled, my eyes watering. "You threatened to devour me whole if I followed you to your secret spot..." Fenrir's eyes widened at this.
"Do not speak to me-"
"You said you despised me and were glad a weakling such as myself was never your natural mother..." I continued, unafraid of him as I stalked forward. "You said I meant nothing to you and never would...But this wasn't true! You feared I would love the child I was pregnant with more than I would love you or your siblings," I pushed forward, tears falling from my eyes as I remembered this conversation between myself and him.
"Stop speaking-"
"It mattered for not how you are your siblings were conceived, I never loved any of you any less than the children I birthed myself!" I paused my advance once we were less than a few feet away from each other. "You wanted me to remember you," I accused in a whisper, shaking my head as I stared up at him. "That's why you gave me back Loki's necklace."
"We do not have time to engage in a reunion," a wispy female voice sighed. Hel had arrived, wearing a jet-black dress that not only accented her feminine features but also flowed behind her a few feet. The young woman wielded a large scythe and watched me carefully, as if she did not quite know what to make of me. "Father will want to know we have the girl."
"Where is Loki?" I asked, sounding more than a little annoyed. I didn't even know why the thought of him suddenly irked me; all I knew for sure was that something was wrong. The three triplets I remembered were positive sweethearts, incapable of causing harm to anyone. Fenrir ripped open my co-worker and a random customer. These were not the same children I had once known. Someone could even make the strong case that they were dangerous monsters...
Ishook away the thought. Hel seemed to be ignoring me as she resorted to aforeign language to speak with Jormungand.
"Where. Is. Loki?" I demanded, sounding angrier this time around.
"The king of the Jotuns would not wish to speak with you, SigynNarfisdaughter-"
"I don't recall asking what Loki would wish," I snarled back atFenrir, causing him to shiver ever so slightly. "I want to know where heis. NOW."
"Careful, mother," Hel drawled quietly. "You are no longer theSigyn he once knew. You are a stranger in her near-identical body."
"Hela," I said again, this time through gritted teeth. "You willeither bring him to me, or bring me to him. Do not dare give me that innocentexpression, you're just as mischievous as he is and a thousand years of notseeing you has changed no such thing!" I blinked as the words left mebefore covering my mouth with a hand. The words leaving my mouth surprised megreatly. Hela looked surprised by my outburst but did not comment. Turning toJormungand, my brows furrowed. "What did she mean, near identical?"
"Your hair is different," he answered promptly. "Tis not as fairand light as it once was."
My hand covered my mouth yet again as I realized something. My hair had beenhighlighted ever since I was thirteen. My mother would take me to a local salonto add caramel highlights to it. She exclaimed I was born far too blond for myown good. My natural hair color had a strange bleach-blond hue to it, one thatalmost looked fake. She had me add highlights every month to tone it down."My mother changed my hair..." I muttered, a hand unconsciouslytouching the top of my head.
"Peoria no doubt changed it to hide away the fact that you are truly thereincarnated Sigyn."
"Why would she do that?"
It was Fenrir who answered. "No doubt she hated the previous Sigyn just asmuch as all of us do," he replied with a glare at me.
I was stunned. "I don't remember anything! Don't you get that?! EverythingI remember comes back in bits and pieces like a puzzle! I remember certainthings and people, and you guys and your dad, but I don't understand any ofthis! Why would I be reincarnated? How did I die?"
Jormungand spared me a pitying glance. "You are thought to have died inRagnarok."
But judging by the quick way Hela looked away and the sadness Jormungand heldas he watched me, I doubted this to be true. "How did I die?" Now,not one of the triplets seemed to want to answer. Even Fenrir, big and strong,seemed too sheepish to want to admit how it was I died over a thousand yearsago. Then it hit me. The way the triplets looked was too strange. I couldn'tplace why they would seem so very downcast until it hit me. They knew mymurderer. Perhaps that was why they were so very devastated in Jormungand'smemory of my death; they knew who killed me. But not only that; they also heldlove and devotion for my murderer...
"Loki is my killer," I grimly realized, my throat locking up asJormungand instantly looked away. Not one of the triplets needed to confirm mywords. Hela glanced away while Fenrir watched me soundlessly. I didn't know howto feel. The man I strangely felt was the great love of my life was also thesame man to steal life away from me.
***