Vega

“We fall too fast and crash too hard like shooting stars in a galaxy of broken hearts.” —R.M. Broderick

When Loki realized he was pregnant again, he considered poisoning himself rather than carrying another child… He couldn’t bear to lose another one, but after sensing the babe’s seiðr, Loki didn’t have the heart to do it. Despite the heartbreak and grief, Loki would do anything if he could just hold them in his arms again…

Why did they have to suffer? What had he done to curse his own children?

Loki had learned from his first pregnancies. He thought he had finally found a way to obscure himself from the Aldafaðr’s ever-knowing gaze. 

Odin rarely bothered to pay attention as long as Loki was behaving like a proper prince.

Choosing the right form had been a difficult decision, but ultimately, Loki chose one of his favorite animals. He’d turned into a snake to trick Thor, but he’d never stayed in the form for so long. It was exhausting. His magic was too drained to change back, and it would be too dangerous this far into the pregnancy.  So, Loki curled into his little den and tried not to remember his last den…

 ***

When he fell, he hadn’t expected peace. He knew not to wish for something unattainable. Instead, he had yearned for oblivion, but oblivion would not come.

Someone else did.

His fate was cursed. He should have known that by now. 

He crash-landed onto a gray and ancient world. The dust burned through his nostrils as he struggled to breathe, surrounded by the ruins of forsaken cities, long since abandoned by any living creatures. Closing his eyes, Loki accepted his fate for it was better to be alone. There’s a safety in loneliness, but Loki was soon proven wrong… He was not alone. He was not lost, and soon, he was found. 

From the first moment, he saw the mad tyrant, he knew Thanos was one to fear. The mindless terror came shortly after. He was a prisoner once more to a tyrant worse than his father. If he had thought he was familiar with the physical side of pain, he soon learnt otherwise, screaming his newfound familiarity for the cackling torturers wracked upon his body. His blood pooling on the thirsting stones.

Loki had forgotten that he himself was capable of genuine emotions, up until he was on his knees before Thanos. Then he remembered horror.

After moonless months under his tutelage, Thanos promised something that Loki would do anything for. 

A chance to reclaim his children. 

So, Loki would become the villain. 

 ***

Loki’s baby was early. The birth was not as painful as his first two. 

Jörmungandr was darling. In his snake form, his similarities to Fenrir were few. But both of his children had dark green eyes as deep and lovely as the forests. 

He couldn't help but wonder if Hel had his eyes as well. He did his best to teach Jö as much as he could. How to hide. How to hunt. How to use their seiðr. When he was sure that Jö could survive on his own, Loki shifted forms. He held his child close and kissed his scaly head. “I love you, my little star.”

 ***

Loki didn’t care about Midgard. He wasn’t even sure why Thanos wanted Midgard. What was so special about humanity? Their lives were so short, so insignificant. 

Loki didn’t care to fight. His body trembled, feeling all of the pain still lingering. He didn’t have the strength to fight, not really. 

The Avengers cared about the fight, so there was more pain. Loki should be used to it by now. 

Loki didn’t even care to win; he just wanted his family back… 

 ***

Thor had rejoiced when he had learnt of his brother's survival. But joy had fled as he realized that Loki’s madness on the Rainbow Bridge had merely been a small glimpse of what was to come. Atop the Stark Tower, where their weapons crossed, Thor did not recognize his brother fighting tooth and nail… Staring into Loki’s watery eyes, begging and pleading with him, he could not help but wonder why. How could it all have come to this? A flash of an image passed his mind, a small pale boy with dark hair and a book in hand, gazing at him adoringly. Where had everything gone wrong?

There was a flicker of hope, quickly extinguished by the dagger in his gut.

However, it had happened, there was no going back.

Shackling each long, bony limb of Loki’s felt wrong, muzzling him felt even worse, but he hardened his heart against his brother. No slight, however large, could justify wreaking havoc on another Realm. 

Odin had said so, a thousand times. (Odin, who had stood in front of the pedestal where the Casket of Ancient Winters resided, each hand holding one of his sons, speaking with pride of his accomplishments, of the Jotnar’s defeat at his hands).

He ignored the voice that screamed in his head that there must be something more, that Loki’s actions could not be only fueled by spite. Odin had warned him of such thoughts as well. Even as the door slammed closed behind him, the image of his brother, wan and slumped in defeat, stayed with him.

 ***

Leaving Jö might have been worse than losing Hel, than losing Fen, but this was his choice. He couldn’t stay. He knew that Odin would find them, and he knew what Odin would do. 

Jö would be better off without him. 

 ***

Thor muzzled him. His brother locked him into a cage and left without a glance. 

Loki screamed like the wind beating against a mountain it could never move. 

Thor would never believe him. 

The Aldafaðr preferred him caged. “I am glad you are home.”

Loki refused to speak, refused to look at him. 

“I always knew you would end up here. I made this prison when I first brought you to Asgard,” Odin continued. “Your seiðr was too chaotic. If left unchecked, it would destroy the nine realms. It might not have mattered if you weren’t such a whore. You kept begetting whelps born with all your chaos and rage.”

Loki growled. 

“So, one by one I hunted them down and locked them away right under your feet,” Odin paused to savor Loki’s agony. “Now, you’re here surrounded by your children. Fitting, isn’t it?”

Loki pounded against the glass until he was little but blood and pain. He screamed until he was hoarse and hollow. 

Everything he had ever yearned for was just out of reach.

***

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