Loki: Why I Began the End (3 page)

     “It really happened?” she asked. “Just as I had seen?”

     “That whole thing with Thiazi was only a means to a greater end, my dear.”

     She didn’t question my loyalty one jot then, completely overcome with anticipation of my leading a revolt of Jotun against the Aesir, now that I had a greater capacity to do so. She didn’t say another word at all, but jumped onto the table with me to plant a passionate kiss on my lips, breaking the table beneath us in the effort.

      Children birthed from the union of a giant and a half-giant was no great abnormality. But I never considered what would be formed from the union between a Jotun witch and a half-giant Aesir-blood-brother. As if the union itself wasn’t strange enough, what came of it was ten times more strange.

     Fenrir was the first to be born. Of course every man thinks about having a son someday, and Fenrir was more a son than I had ever bargained for. He was every inch covered in cobalt-black fur, even upon exiting his mother’s womb, and was built more like a wolf than any form of a man. His eyes were black, his teeth were black; the only color about him was his blood-red tongue. Furthermore, he grew rapidly. By the end of his first week, he was already as large as a grown human, and by the end of his first year, he was three times as large, and there to stay at such a massive size. It was not uncommon for people, even Jotun or Aesir, to fear the sight of him. Myself...I never saw it. He has always been a handsome, graceful creature—the handsomeness, he got from me; but as for the grace, I can’t imagine where that came from. I know for certain he got his stubbornness from his mother—he would never admit when he was wrong.

     Jormungand followed his brother only thirty seconds later—a second son. No one but their parents could tell they were related, however. He was every inch covered in grey scales, built like a serpent. Serpent seems too belittling a word, though, for the massive size he gained: so long in length, that it would take months to walk from his head to his tail. His black teeth leaked with yellow venom, and it was a bad habit of his to always be slurping the venom through his teeth. The venom didn’t hurt him, of course, but the constant slurping would drive his mother and myself to madness the first few weeks. People feared him, too, which I could marginally see, as he seemed to inherit his father’s fetish for playing pranks. Being without limbs by no means inhibited him, either; I was always very impressed by how well he could execute a prank. I needed only to hear a sudden bout of screams to laugh and know that Jor was behind them.

     Hel was the third and final child to be born to us, almost an entire hour after Jor. There were two things that made her very distinct from her brothers: the first being, of course, that she was female; the second being that she had a humanoid form, better resembling her parents. However, I did worry about her the instant she was born, as she appeared to have been born unhealthy. The entire right side of her body was a healthy pink, and with her bright grey eyes and flowing black hair, she was rather more beautiful a child than I thought Angerboda and I could concoct. However, the entire left side of her body was shriveled and pale, like a dead body in decay. But it was quickly proved by how her wrinkled, deformed left fist strongly grasped my finger that she was in perfect health. And knowing that she was in perfect health, she was quickly the most beautiful thing in my eyes. And clever, too. But it was more a sensible sort of cleverness, which was often irritated by her brother Jor’s incessant and childish jokes.

     I was—and still am—the extremely proud father of extremely fine children. They were not at all what I had expected, but that make them all the more fantastic. So there is no way I can ever forgive myself for allowing them to be treated as they were. Could I have possibly been more selfish? It could have been the highest-gauged amount of selfishness known to existence.

     I had told Odin about my children, and he many times visited with them. Now, I could tell that Odin appreciated them as I did—as people, and not monsters. He understood them best out of all the Aesir—which was how his worry came to be, I guess. He told me that they bode ill for the Aesir, that they would be a great danger to them—and to himself most personally. He then put it to me that as his sworn brother, I must allow my children to be divided across the world. At the time, he made it sound like they would be given important duties, and it was my own greed for the Aesir power that allowed myself to be fooled. I had been discovering my new powers since becoming an Aesir, the chief of which was the ability to transform into any shape, any being at will, which worked wonders for my hunger for mischief. And so, ensuring my children that their new homes would be good for them, I assisted Odin in relocating Jormungand to the sea, first. Jor took to the water very well, which put my heart at some little rest. Then, Hel was sent to be chief caretaker of the underworld. Though a very powerful position much suited to Hel’s intelligence and strong will, I knew it would be very dark and rather lonely for her.

     Given the current circumstances, I can’t see how Odin punished my children, yet still singled me out for a reprieve.

     The worst of all was Fenrir’s fate, in which I was the most deceived. Odin invited him to live with us in Asgard, so that he could “keep on an eye on him”. I’d thought I had a difficult time being accepted; Fenrir’s difficulty was greater. As soon as his wolfish form stepped over the threshold, Heimdall, the Ram-Helmed guardian of the Bifrost Bridge, brandished his blade.

     “Put it away,” Odin commanded. “This is Fenrir, son of Loki. He will be staying with us here in Asgard.”

     I would have been far more comfortable with a sudden uproar of verbal rebuttals, but no one would vocally refute Odin. Instead, they all stared between Fenrir and myself with venomous, threatening gazes.

     Ugh. Venomous...Let me rephrase that...

     It was the first time that a mere look from them actually made me feel inferior. My son and I were unwanted parasites in their eyes, and however well I’d held my own before such gazes in the past, I actually felt myself crumbling at the brunt of them. I think my sudden insecurity had to do a great deal with Fenrir, really. It was one matter for them to disrespect and loathe me—I usually deserved it. But not Fenrir—he was a truer equal to them than I was, if not their superior in intelligence, dignity, and strength. And they regarded him as nothing better than a leech that needed to be crushed underfoot. And all this only from their silent expressions permeating the air. The only words I could think to say were: “Come on, son,” as I led him away to the home he would be sharing with me.

     “Why should I waste my time here?” he asked me that night. “They despise the sight of me, and I have no desires to tie me to this place.”

     An excellent sign of his intelligence: The power and prestige of the Aesir were of absolutely no interest to him. I know now that it was intelligence; then, I thought it was foolishness. “Odin himself has invited you here,” I told him, “to the stronghold of power and wisdom. Whatever the motive of his invitation, you can’t just disregard it. Use this opportunity to your advantage.”

     “Even if I were interested, they are not interested in offering me anything.”

     “You’d be surprised how primitive their interests are. If I can manage to lure them into any form of camaraderie, I’m sure you can.”

     I think he heard the eagerness in my voice. Though I didn’t admit it aloud, I was glad to have one of my own with me in Asgard, someone of my own kind to stand and be counted with. And I think he knew that, because he said, “I’ll do what I can, father.”

     I thought it was what I wanted for him, to share in the power I had achieved from the Aesir. But I quickly discovered it wasn’t worth it, as my son was being transformed into a festival sideshow attraction. You see, Tyr (god of whatever) was among the several Aesir who believed, in spite of Odin’s orders, that Fenrir needed to be gotten rid of. And unlike myself, who was Odin’s blood-brother, Fenrir
could
be gotten rid of.

     Tyr started out with friendly competition. He and other male Aesir began an arm wrestling tournament. I declined, having little interest in physical feats. But Fenrir’s stubbornness got the better of him, and he enlisted into the tournament. It was sheer joy watching him conquer each Aesir, one at a time. None of them could hold a candle to him—he slammed one fist after the other, claiming all victories to be had. With every sneer from a loser, I had a very smug grin. But he was very good about it—unlike his father, he didn’t play up the bravado. In fact, his good nature was contagious, and as crowds assembled to watch each bout, several actually began rooting for him, and pumped their fists in the air with a cheer when he slammed another victory. For once in my life, I was overwhelmed—I was proud, happy, and laughing with artless merriment, rather than at some joke.

     But boy, was it some joke…

     Tyr actually befriended Fenrir after that day. They spent much of their time in athletic competitions and casual conversations that roared with laughter. I joined them sometimes, suspicious of any Aesir spending so much time with my son. Now, I’m usually a shrewd judge of character, but that was put into doubt when I observed genuine respect from Tyr. Could it be that a close-minded Aesir could actually see how impressive my wolfish Jotun son was? Unfathomable.

     Then the Aesir organized a new competition of strength: They would chain each other in fetters and try to break loose. The Aesir record was held by Thor, who was able to break out of the fetters in five seconds.

     “We’ve got a fresh pair waiting for you,” Heimdall, the master of these ceremonies, told Fenrir, holding an unbroken set of fetters.

     Tyr took Fenrir’s arm, leading him away. “We’ve actually got all the equipment set up on the field. We were going to…”

     “Come on, Fenrir,” Thor insisted. “It took me five seconds. Won’t take you any longer.”

     With a grin, Fenrir approached and let himself be chained. When Heimdall waved his arm to begin, Fenrir burst out of the fetters almost immediately. After a slight moment of awe—or shock—the spectators applauded and cheered.

     And that wasn’t the end of it. The next day, they came with stronger fetters. And stronger the day after that. The reigning champion, Fenrir, would always be enlisted to go first, and though it took perhaps five seconds longer each attempt, he always shattered the fetters, and faster than anyone else. Still, I didn’t like it. It wasn’t a typical sort of contest, but rather seemed like a trap someone schemed up.

     The fifth day of contest, the fetters were markedly different than any others—they appeared to be mere silken threads woven together. Furthermore, these fetters were attached to the ground. Fenrir recognized my concern, feeling it as well.

     Heimdall held up the fetters to Fenrir. “Day Five, champion. Ready?”

     After a moment’s hesitation, Fenrir shook his head. “Not today.”

     “You’re dropping out? What, afraid you’ll lose?”

     Fenrir smiled wryly. “I have better things to do than entertaining you with paltry tricks.”

     Though it was lost to my son, I heard Tyr whisper, “That’s
enough
, okay?” to the Aesir.

     The goddess Freya took hold of the fetters, looking them over. “I bet I could break out of these.”

     Fenrir laughed. “I’m sure the whole of the Aesir would gather to watch you struggling with chains, my dear.”

     Freya set her jaw firm. “If you do it, I will.”

     Fenrir looked to Tyr. All the gathered Aesir looked to Tyr, waiting for his intervention. I was reminded of the same threatening glares that hounded me until I agreed to abduct Iduna—and I could see Tyr buckling under them. He pat Fenrir on the back, smiled, and said, “Show them how it’s done.”

     Fenrir stared warily at him. “I will, if you hold your hand between my jaws while I’m chained.”

     Tyr’s smile disappeared. Nonetheless, he replied, “Deal.”

     I stepped forward to rebut, but Freya had already clamped one of the cuffs onto his wrist. Together, she and Heimdall had him completely chained up—fetters on his wrists, his ankles, even one for his neck. He stood on all fours, as he always did when prying himself out, and Tyr set his trembling hand between his open jaws. Fenrir flexed and thrashed in the fetters, accomplishing nothing except for a rattling clash that struck my core with each flinch. Then the Aesir began to laugh. Now knowing he wouldn’t be getting out, Fenrir bit down on Tyr’s hand and tore it off, spitting the hand at Heimdall’s feet. The Aesir gathered around Tyr to administer to his injury, but he pushed them away and left to care for it himself.

     I tried what I could to break the fetters, even transforming into different creatures and beasts to use their strength and their claws. The only result was more laughter from the Aesir. Furious, I brushed them all aside and found Odin in his study chambers, demanding that Fenrir be released. He just looked up from his tome and said, “I can’t.”

     I took his book from him and threw it against the wall. “What do you mean you can’t?”

     “Those chains are indestructible. You know Fenrir to be stronger than I. If he can’t break them, how can you expect that—?”

     “Don’t play this with me, Odin. You can’t tell me that, with all the knowledge of the known universe at your disposal, you can’t get my son free.
My son
…
blood-brother
.”

     Still calm and complacent, he repeated, “I can’t, Loki. I can’t.”

    I knew without doubt that he had a role in it, somewhere. Who else would know the perfect recipe for indestructible fetters? “‘Bring your son to Asgard, so I can keep an eye on him’. You old codger, you deceived me!” My last three words caught my tongue...After all, I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve deceived people, even up ‘til that point in time.