Number Eight
Their game of cat and mouse has whittled away all but the timeless army’s fiercest warriors, most of whom possess enough firepower to bring down an Aesir. Yet, the younger Friggason is no ordinary Asgardian and feigning injury is a begrudging specialty.
With dramatic flair, Loki draws the battlefield’s attention while his champion confronts a black clad valkyrie blocking their path. She’s a hair taller than Five with smoky dark eyes and honey brown skin. Loki’s a little concerned for his recently liberated mortal. She fights as if trained by Kali herself and easily mimics the Midgardian’s powers.
To add to his worries, their enemies seek his enthrallment via a contraption reminiscent of his time with the TVA. Given their previous collar, which was crudely made at best, it’s tempting to fuel their misplaced faith in technology. However, he can’t risk Five getting seriously hurt or, Norns forbid, killed should he be mistaken.
Distracted by his inner thoughts, the trickster doesn’t catch the soldier at his back until it’s too late and he hears the click of a shutting latch against his wrist. Distressingly, the band seals away his seiðr and he can’t immediately break the barrier. Rather than wasting energy soothing a bruised ego Loki drops his glamour, pulls at his inherent magic, and shatters the machine in an instant. The Frost Giant is done with frivolities. Unleashing waves of ice, Loki freezes everyone in view except for the duelling mages.
I’m going to find out who these people are before any more ensnarements arise.
Appearing next to the stunned pair, the azure god with the crimson eyes jeers, “I’m terribly sorry, but I need to have a look at your memories,” as he touches the woman’s forehead.
*
There’s darkness save for pinpricks of light trickling through a square panel. Hidden within the gloomy vent sits a four-year-old trying to stifle her shuddering breath. Loki hears pleas followed by two gunshots, a woman’s voice, a man’s vanishing footsteps, and the click of stilettos. The heels stop and the grill opens. It’s the fiendish woman they’ve spotted several times, only younger and wearing a dalmatian’s coat.
I thought those were Midgardian pets.
“Well, well, well, look who we have here. Does this belong to you?” She chuckles while holding a toy. Arms open, the ghoul motions to the frightened little girl in pink pyjamas, saying, “Come here, darling. Come, Come. Yes. There we go.”
Lila Pitts, daughter of Ronnie and Anita Gill, was raised to be a weapon in a fight against free will.
“Bloody hell! What kind of monster shows their adopted mum killing their parents?” The tear-streaked woman shrieks as she pounds on the god’s chest.
Loki makes no move to stop her as he explains with deep sincerity, “I played no tricks with the memory. Your young and terrified mind has never linked the woman who raised you to the person who shot your family, or at least stood by while it happened.”
“It’s not true.”
“Why do you think she’s there? She never cared about your parents. She was looking for you. You’ve been lied to, Lila. A powerful person stole you for your potential use, just like Five.”
“You’re wrong. She loves me.”
“Her love shouldn’t be contingent on unquestioned obedience.”
He pauses, taking a breath to reapply his glamour.
“I know all too well how it feels being taken, like a relic one day to be wielded, and raised under a lie. It’s why I’m not myself without my father’s disguise, in fact. I’ve had it since I was an infant, but only found out about it recently. The circumstances under which I learned of my heritage ignited a spiral of self-destruction wherein I hurt a lot of people. After murdering my not-so-innocent living birth parent I nearly destroyed my home world. It was a misguided attempt to gain approval. And, when I found none in my father’s eye, I tried ending my life — a feat much harder than I expected. Journeying through the vacuum of space, I sort of fell into a wormhole generated by my destruction and landed in the Abyss between dimensions. I pray your realm knows not of Thanos.”
Loki shakes with what’s left unsaid, continuing when Five threads his fingers between the god’s and squeezes.
“I make no excuses, but try to understand that my people are the wild beasts in children’s stories. I believed the role of villain was mine to play. I thought I was proving my loyalty by doing what must be done but one person dared not do. Thankfully my dear brother intervened… What I mean to say is that I apologise for what I made you relive. I was trying to determine your identity, and that’s where we ended up.
Somewhere in the middle of Loki’s confession the beating slows then stops.
“Who are you?” She squints.
“Until my apprehension by a totalitarian temporal authority akin to the Commission, and mis-adventuring my way into your universe, I was Loki, Prince of Asgard, Friggason, rightful heir of Jotunheim, and God of Mischief. I’m not sure if this universe has a Loki variant. Hopefully not. Most of the variants I’ve met are overly sensitive, tiresome assholes not to be trusted. Please, just call me Loki.” He finishes with a subtle smile and a slight bow.
With open eyes and a hoarse voice, Lila declares, “Wow! That’s completely bonkers yet actually explains a lot… Can you do that mindmeldy thing again, but with me mum while I tag along?”
“Certainly, but first, let me fix your hands.”