Forgiveness
`If this jötun did not bring me away, I would have grown up a jötun in a war-torn realm, or dead.`
It is not a pleasant thought, but it is reality as Loki now knows it. Something harsh and horrible but firm and simple in this unreal-seeming situation.
And he refuses to reward the triggerer of the thought for the truth unlooked for with apathy, let alone shunning, as Nalla is doing – has been doing, perhaps since he was lost to this realm.
So he wriggles free from his captor, and wade-crawls across the expanse of soft and squishy things to the even-more-unknown jötun, and puts a tentative hand on the latter’s knee.
And Býleistr breaks down, just so, as if forgiveness had been verbally and sincerely declared for all to hear.
Loki’s heart twinges, and he does not know – cannot explain even to himself – why.
But he does wish fervently that, if he ever wronged someone to this extent, the forgiveness would be just as simple and swift and believed.
And he also wishes that, somehow, Atlanta could be here. She would enjoy the newness so.
Sadly, thoughts of her makes him long for Midgard, Asgard – anywhere but here.