NINE REALMS

JOTUNHEIM

CURRENT ABODE OF LAUFEYDOTTIR

The moment Thor twisted the handle to activate the Isolation Chamber holding the Cosmic Cube, he was expecting the reopen his eyes on the Bifrost, back in Asgard, but such a thing didn’t happen.

Thor, instead, reopened his eyes to a very different environment – one of frost and frozen blood, biting chills, and isolated desolations. Only one such place existed in the nine realms, and it was his second least favorite place – Jotunheim.

Home of the Frost Giants – Ancient enemies of Asgard, though, Loki’s recent destruction of their Capital had scattered the Frost Giants far and wide across their Frozen Homelands. Thor didn’t feel particularly threatened, but he remained on guard, clutching Loki’s cuffs.

Mjolnir lit with lightning as thunders boomed in the skies above. The ever-present frost made it easier for the lightning’s pride to manifest, creating a larger storm than Thor would usually be able to manifest.

Silence reigned for a couple of minutes. The storm dissipated. When no enemies attacked, Thor knew who was to blame.

“What have you done, Loki?” The God of Thunder’s voice boomed. “Do your tricks have no end?”

Loki seemed offended. Needless to say – in the week since losing his eyes – the God of Mischief had only grown more resentful, more dangerous. Despite the lack of eyes to see his manifestations, Loki could feel his magic power growing.

His tricks had always been petty, but since losing his eyes, he came to understand that tricks need to be cruel. With this knowledge, The God of Mischief had come close to escaping the Avengers several.

It was only after The Avengers entombed him in one of Tony’s suits that Loki was completely contained.

“I can feel the biting winter frost of Jotunheim, but this is no fault of mine, brother,” Loki shook his cuffs. “I am bound by Midgardian Technology that restrains my power.”

Thor stared into Loki’s eyes – or rather, where his eyes should have been – for a couple of seconds and confirmed the God of Mischief spoke the truth. Or as close to the truth as Loki could get.

Thor had no ability to gauge truths and lies, his royal training had been hundreds of years ago, but Loki tended to flaunt whenever he did something noteworthy, and right now, he was not flaunting, so this was not his handiwork.

As a matter of fact, Loki and Thor seemed equally concerned by the turn of events. Thor always feared returning to Jotunheim after challenging their last king, and Loki wanted to live long enough to get revenge for his eyes.

“Maybe the Green Abomination and The Man of Metal confused the realms,” Thor tapped the containment unit of the cube. “Was I too naïve when thinking men could know the domain of the Gods?”

“Naturally.” Loki scoffed.

But Thor wasn’t convinced. There were only so many realms, and even if Tony and Bruce got the Dimensional Coordinates wrong, Heimdall could simply guide them to Asgard using the Cosmic Strings of previous Bifrost crossings.

“Wait, brother,” Loki stopped Thor from reactivating the cube. “Perhaps you should give me some moment to honor my father in the Winter’s Cradle?”

“The Capital is thousands of miles away,” Thor frowned, lightning dancing under his skin. “Besides, our father still lives in mind and soul. Odin is our father, and there is no need to pay homage to Laufey’s grave.”

“You forget I am a Frost Giant by blood.”

“And an Asgardian God by sweat, tears, and soul!”

“You would deny me the right of a Saga, brother!?!” Loki hissed like a snake, shoving his shackles against Thor’s chest. “Are you a brother of mine? It may be best to leave me amongst my people. Here, I still may have a chance to rise. On Asgard, I will be locked away for life!”

Thor frowned in contemplation, not providing an immediate answer since the right of a Saga was indeed due to Loki. The Saga was an Ancient Ritual meant to invoke three trials for a mortal to overcome.

It was meant for Mortals who had offended Asgardian Gods. Of course, these trials could only be administered under the watchful eyes of the Royal Family, and only when an Asgardian and a Mortal King had unresolvable hatred.

Thor recalled the last time a Saga had taken place. An entire Kingdom was razed to the ground by Asgardian Warriors, and he and Loki were forced to kill their own people. It was not a memory he liked to remember.

Three trials are given to a Mortal, and upon completion of the trials, the Mortal would be able to make a request of the Asgardian King. The tradition of a Saga gave birth to many heroes and Asgardian-Mortal Hybrids.

Sadly, few Mortals were ever able to complete the near-impossible trials, and Thor was sure the Young Girl name Jessica would be unable.

Still, The God of Thunder was hesitant because – under Asgardian Law, which had not changed much in thousands of years – Loki was indeed entitled to a Saga Ritual for the loss of his eyes.

As progressive as the times were, The Laws of Asgard did not equate thousands of human lives to the pinky finger of a God, much less a Prince of Asgard.

“I am sorry, brother,” Thor’s reply carried genuine distress. “The Ritual of The Sage is archaic even if it still exists within our Laws. Take heed brother, the mortals are not as weak as they once were, you may very well be killed.”

“They took my sight, brother!” Vicious Green Energy flared around Loki. “They took my eyes! They stole so much from me, and yet still, you side with the Midgardians on this matter?”

“And what did you take from them?” Thor grabbed Loki by the neck and raised him into the air. How many lives did you take – one, two? NO! Thousands of Midgardian lives! Do you feel nothing for the hundreds of children your army slew?”

Loki stared down at Thor, clenched in The God of Thunder’s fist.

“Their suffering and mourning will last a Winter, and within a hundred years, their memories will become the dust of their bodies. But what about I? I will have lost my sight for two thousand years and more!”

Thor scoffed and released Loki. “You dare compare the lifespan of a Midgardian with that of an Asgardian? Have you no shame, brother?”

“By your words, brother,” Loki snickered. “By fighting alongside the Mortals, acknowledging their strengths. Are you not saying they stand equal to us?”

“ENOUGH!” Thor bellow, lightning slithering across his body. “We leave or Asgard immediately. Father will bestow a punishment fit for your crime! It pains my heart to see what you have become, brother!”

Loki snarled as Thor pulled him to his feet, and twisted the handle of the Containment Unit to transfer them to Asgard. But something peculiar happens at that moment – the exact moment Thor let down his guard.

Loki could not see it, but he could feel it as clearly as if he was watching himself and Thor from the outside. It felt like stagnation and stillness – frozen time in a way. No, not frozen, but infinitely slow.

Thor was trapped, but Loki could move as freely as the day he was born. The God of Mischief sensed a different presence nearby – the origin of everything happening. It was eerily similar to his own Godly presence but much more refined and chaotic.

For a God of Mischief, refined and more chaotic went hand in hand – something Loki had just come to realize since losing his eyes.

“Who goes there?” Loki puffed his chest to show a brave front, but the shackles around his wrists made him defenseless. “I am Loki Odinson!”

“Little Loki Variant,” The Voice hummed playfully and with a Midgardian accent nonetheless. “I altered the course of your journey to bring you to Jotunheim. You should be thanking me for severing your pre-determined fate. Not that it makes you any less of a failure.”

Loki spread his magical energy as much as he could, and a hooded figure appeared in his immediate awareness. It was a woman – an Asgardian. She smelt of beer, molten rocks, and divinity. She walked in a grandiose manner symbolic of Royalty or Nobility.

“I smell Asgardian Leather. You seem to have good tastes.” Loki admired her.

“Only the best to approach a Prince of the Realm.”

“Wise woman,” Loki cast a knowing smile in the hooded woman’s direction. “And do say, why you have brought me so far from home? Surely, we could have this conversation on Midgard?”

“Too many eyes on Midgard,” The Hooded Figure snorted. “I am here to make a deal."

Loki’s brows shot up, contemplating all the ways he could spin this situation in his favor. After all, what was the God of Mischief without a little Mischief?

Sadly, Loki’s thoughts didn’t last very long. A small hand gripped his throat, and rose him into the air, not unlike what Thor had done earlier. The hand squeezed until no air could make it down his windpipe.

Loki choked and squirmed until the hand eased its grip.

“You would do well to remember I am the one who is advantaged in this situation, Variant!” The Hooded Woman spat the word Variant as if it was an obscenity. “Now, why don’t we start with the details of this deal?

Lok was released and he fell to his knees. Frustration and rage burned in his heart, but no negative emotions made their way onto his face. There was nothing that could deter The God of Mischief from making a deal.

Besides, it was hardly the first time he had been bullied by a woman. SIF and the other Asgardian girls often vented on him as a child.

“And what do you offer me in return for submitting to your whims?” Loki shrugged and decided to make the best of a useless situation. “Your body? Your soul? Your gratitude?”

The Hooded Woman sighed. “I offer you the only thing that should matter to a God of Mischief – a little chaos upon your enemies.”

‘Chaos?’ Loki thought but didn’t hesitate to agree. “I agree. Now, if you can just restore my sight, I will grant you all the chaos you require. I will rule the Earth as is my right, and I will bring the Avengers to their knees. This I pledge.”

“Don’t confuse my goals with your own, Variant!” The Hooded Woman eyed Loki as if he was the most pathetic thing she had seen in her very long life. “I will accept this pledge, but forget The Earth, I want this Universe to experience chaos. Enough to attract their attention.”

Loki shrugged, and the Hooded Woman walked forward, brushing her hands across his blinded eyes, restoring his sight with a brilliant flash of green magical energy. It was as if restoring his sight was the least of her abilities.

“Strange,” Loki blinked and focused his gaze on the Hooded Woman.

He still could not see her face, but she seemed very much like him, just stronger and more feminine. She wore a crown of two horns, but smaller than his combat crown. Loki turned his gaze to Thor.

The God of Thunder was still standing next to him, but Thor had been frozen in a loop of time just as the blue particles of the Cube were about to whisk him away to Asgard.

With barely any effort, Loki disabled the cuffs on his wrist, stepping away from Thor, and instead, conjured a very real illusion in his place. The illusion would head back to Asgard in his place, and by the time Thor notices the mistake, it would be too late.

Even Heimdall’s eyes would not be able to locate The God of Mischief.

“And might I inquire as to your name, benefactor?” Loki quickly questioned seeing the Hooded Woman had started to depart. “I will be sure to send weekly reports about my chaotic progress.” He joked.

The Hooded Woman paused her steps. “Goddess of Mischief – Sylvie Laufeydottir,” She replied, not minding giving her name since she didn’t expect the Loki Variant to live very long.

‘The only reason I was attracted to this timeline in the first place was that it is already diverging and the Time Bureau seems to not know of it!’

Sylvie silently cursed under her breath as a door opened in the air, and she stepped through, disappearing from Jotunheim altogether. The moment Sylvie departed, Thor and Loki’s illusion turned into the blue specs of light, disappearing from Jotunheim.

The next couple of minutes were the most profound time of Loki’s life. He took the time to come to terms with all that happened. Eventually, a cruel smile dawned on The God of Mischief’s face. It was a wide smile filled with teeth and cruel lips.

“She wants chaos?” Loki whispered in the emptiness of the snow. “Then I shall start by taking my rightful place as King of The Frost Giants. Jessica Jones… wait for me!”

Without another word, Loki started his journey across the lands of Jotunheim, planning to head from village to village, building an army until none would proclaim him as anything but the rightful King.