A LONG TIME AGO, ON ASGARD :

Lighting crashed outside the windows and thunder shook the ground. The five winds howled their harrowing lament, roaring in unison throughout the golden kingdom.

The people sat and waited in their homes for the dark night to end and for the morning Suns to rise over Asgard once more.

In the palace, two children, in fear, dashed stumbling through the hallways into the chambers of their mother. They flew open her doors and leapt swiftly onto the bed, scrambling into their mother's open arms, which awaited them, welcoming and warm.

The fair queen smiled upon them, embracing them tightly against her chest and cooing gently. "Oh, my darlings, you are shaking like leaves."

"It is the storm, mother." The golden-haired boy muttered into his mother's silk gown, "The Evil-Bringer."

"You're the God of Thunder." The boy of raven dark hair hissed from the other side. Yet, while his anger was strong, his voice still held a tremor, his arms winding tighter around his mother's form, "You are hardly in a position to speak."

A clamp of lighting shook the palace and the two boys pressed tighter into their mother, seeking comfort and refuge.

"Thor, stop this at once!" the green-eyed child cried, burrowing his face further into her side, frightened.

"I can't!" The boy wept, tears streaming down his soft, rosy cheeks. "I swear, mother! I'm scared!"

"Sshh, my dears." Their mother murmured softly, settling further into her bed and pulling the small frames of her children closer to her. "Fear not. The storm will pass and all will be well."

"They bring evil, mother." The golden-haired boy sobbed harder into his parent's nightgown, "My storms bring destruction too."

The queen sat up at this and looked sternly into her child's teary eyes. "My dear, is that what you believe?" she asked him, earnestly.

A roar of thunder revibrated through the palace then, and the two boys screamed, diving further into their mother's arms.

The kind queen looked at them lovingly and smiled. Once the rumble outside had quieted, she gently peeled her boys off her so she could glimpse into their wide, fearful eyes.

She looked at them, adoration filling her clement gaze.

"My sons." she spoke softly, in a whisper, passing a loving hand over her children's foreheads, moving the rebellious strands of hair that had strewn on them. Golden and stormy black hairs that had stuck to their skin through sweat and tears. She gazed upon them tenderly, at the one of such a thunderous a character and at the soft, green-eyed boy. And she spoke.

"You listen well and listen good. Storms will come, and they may bring fear with them. Loneliness." She caressed the raven-haired boy's head gently, and he looked at her quietly, hopeful, trusting. She glanced at the teary-eyed boy on her other side next, smiling with a love equal for both. "You may feel you are to navigate them alone. But over the roaring clouds and the clashing thunders, green pastures await. Always." She turned to Loki then. "Your mother." she whispered and brushed her son's cheek. "Your father." She looked at Thor and smiled encouragingly as he sniffled. "And you, there for one another." she spoke, looking at her children with such unparalleled affection only a mother could muster. "All storms pass, my darling boys. And what comes out there standing, unmoving forever, is home."

And as she cradled her sons back to her sides and they relaxed against her form, the fair Queen Frigga of Asgard parted her lips and sang the song of tranquil times.

"I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene
Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem
I eplehagen står møyen den vene
og synger "når kommer du hjem?"

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone
Over the glacier, I make my way
In the apple garden stands the maiden fair
and sings, 'When will you come home?'

The storm quieted then.

The raging seas calmed and the winds softened.

And the two boys drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

--

By the morning, the storm had died.

Silent, dark waves rolled calmly upon the sandy shores, the skies still glum, strained from the terrorising winds and thunders.

A rubble had been left on the beach, broken branches and blown objects littering the clear Asgardian sands.

Among the wreckage, two boys skidded along the coast, conversing lightly.

"Buried treasure! Or, well, un-buried treasure." Thor spoke excitedly, balancing along the trunk of a fallen tree, arms open wide, equilibrating as he walked. His head turned to the boy walking below him on the beach. "We can show our findings to father and celebrate! Then they will have to invite us to the feast!"

The raven-haired boy scoffed silently, his posture nothing short but regal as he took leisured strides forward, hands behind his back. Watchful green eyes that had been scanning the sand for scattered objects of interest rolled at his brother's suggestion. "Don't be foolish. Father explicitly said we are not to join the feasts until we are of age."

"Yes, but if we find something of value, he will simply have to allow us!" the stubborn boy leapt upon the wooden dock, radiant in his excitement.

He looked at his quiet brother in the short distance, who did nothing but shake his head disgruntedly before turning his back on him and proceeding into the opposite direction.

"Oh, please, brother!" The young God of Thunder called after him. "What if we find gold!"

A contemptuous smile was thrown his way. "I sincerely doubt that."

"But what if we do!"

Loki paused then and sighed. He knew his brother would not relent until he was appeased. Such was the behaviour of a future king, he thought. "Fine." he spoke at once, turning to give the golden boy a defeated look. "I suppose a quick look would not hurt."

"Yes!" The boy leapt in joy before he turned and dashed away from the docks.

His younger brother frowned in confusion, hands falling by his sides. "Where are you going?" he called after the quickly retreating figure.

"To get Sif and the Warriors Three, of course!" his brother threw him a beaming grin. "Better six heads than two!"

"You mean one head." Loki grumbled under his breath in annoyance. But his brother was too far away to hear him.

"Start looking by the top of the docks!" Thor shouted his way as he ran. "I shan't be a minute!" And then he disappeared behind the sea of golden buildings.

Irritated, Loki sighed. This was not how he expected to spend the next hours of the day.

Begrudgingly, he approached the fallen tree and climbed on top of it, careful not to dirty his newly washed green-coloured tunic, gifted to him by his mother. Skidding forward with ease, he leapt onto the dock and stopped to brush his knees off with a quick, annoyed breath.

"Ridiculous." The young boy muttered, bark brows furrowing in discontent.

He straightened then and glanced ahead.

His eyes found the horizon of the Asgardian sea, where the waters cascaded off the earth and into the infinite longitude of the cosmos. The sea was calm after the storm but brewed, dark and cold, beneath his feet.

Loki grimaced. He was never a fanatic of water. Now, with the winter fast approaching and the sea's temperature beginning to drastically drop, the thought of venturing into the cool sea was even less appealing.

Sighing, Loki pressed onward, into the slowly settling crispy fog.

The wooden floorboards creaked softly beneath his boots and the sea sloshed around calmly, a distant echo in his ears.

All was serene, and as young Loki walked, he revelled in the stillness of it all, breathing in the salty fragrance of the air.

Slowly, his posture relaxed and his shoulders slackened, his normally tight posture relaxing.

He sauntered vaguely onwards, his annoyance loosening gradually, gentle peace replacing it and warmly spreading in his chest.

Loki watched the swirling seas ahead, the kingdom behind him slipping into the back of his memory without him realising. He peered at the soft blanket of grey waters, at the pearly sky obscured by the large silvery clouds, and found himself mesmerised.

The green-eyed boy smiled then, softly, suddenly feeling at peace, alone in that transparent fog.

Comfortably, he walked onwards, calmed by his surroundings.

All was quiet.

A luxury he rarely afforded at the palace. Not with the personnel bustling about and his father's persistently stern gaze on him. Not with his brother's constantly booming presence in the vicinity.

Involuntarily, he rolled his eyes at the thought of Thor, and the peacefulness of the moment shattered.

He knew the oaf would return shortly, bringing his herd of sheep along with him, and he could kiss the peaceful quietness goodbye. He would not have the silence back until they found something, which seemed to be highly unlikely given the bare state of the dock.

Loki paused suddenly, an idea sparking to mind.

His frown of irritation melted and was replaced by a look of realisation. Which morphed into a mischievous smile all too soon.

Reaching his hand into the air, Loki twirled his wrist. Green light enveloped his hand, and as he whirled it back in sight, a simple golden clock sat upon his palm.

He had bagged the object a long time ago at the market but had never found use for it. Now, it would serve its purpose nicely in placating Thor's enthusiasm.  

Gold of sorts, Loki thought to himself.

Smirking in satisfaction down at the object, the boy went to turn and begin his walk back to the bottom of the docks, where he planned to await his brother, wave the object at his face, then forget about the whole childish ordeal and proceed back to the palace.

He whirled on his heels, throwing the clock gently into the air, then catching it effortlessly with a prankish smile.

But as he did, something flickered in the distance out of the corner of his eye. 

Loki paused, brows furrowed.

By then, the fog had descended upon the waters, misty white clouds concealing the horizon before him, as well as the surrounding sea and the city behind.

Loki's watchful eyes scanned the area for movement, watching the landscape in confusion.

His brows furrowed and a look of concentration brimmed his features.

He ran his gaze sideways, leftwards, rightwards and up, seeing nothing.

The boy almost blamed it on a trick of the mind, when the object fluttered once again in the depths of the fog.

Squinting, he took a step closer to the edge of the dock, watching the distance vigilantly.

The silence of his surroundings now pressed on him and he gulped nervously, hands beginning to clam.

Gripping the clock in his fist, he blinked, pressing his lips into a stern frown.

A moment passed and he saw nothing. But Loki knew too well not to move.

As the thick fog shifted leisurely, his eyes latched onto something dark.

He suppressed a yelp of surprise, instead squaring his posture further.

He watched as the matter floated in the far distance, moved gently by the waves, concealed periodically by the crispy white mist.

A mass was floating in the waters, unmoving, too far away for Loki to make out.

He pressed his eyes closed and then opened them again, frowning further to sharpen his gaze, hands tightening in concentration.

The fog continued to skid leisurely past, allowing him glimmers of the unknown object.

He saw dark, then, a moment later, something amber in colour, and after that what looked like tangled streaks of white, scattered straws.   

Loki frowned.

White straws...

They almost looked like...

His eyes widened in horror.

"There's a girl in the water!" Loki's loud scream tore through the silence, panic seizing his chest.

"Guards!" the young boy yelled at the top of his lungs, his stance scrambling, his eyes wide and desperate, unable to leave the girl's form. "Heimdall! Help!"

The figure was now more visible in the distance and he gasped at the sight of the rapidly drifting form.

Loki's breaths were quick, unmeasured, sweating hands beginning to enter a steady tremor.

He realized with terror that by the time the guards came, she would float away further into the fog and there was no saying if she would survive being in the water longer. That was, if she was still alive.

His breath caught in his throat at the thought.

Thoughts clear in his mind, Loki tossed aside the clock with a violent jerk and leapt off the dock.

His body collided with the freezing waters and he was engulfed by them, dragged into their depths.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, surprise arose at the fact that the sea did not feel as cold as he had earlier presumed. But he had no time to properly register the thought.

Wrestling with the water, he broke onto the surface and gasped a large breath of needed air.

His eyes swiftly found the drifting form and locked onto it.

Then, with all his strength, he began pushing through the murky surface towards the body.

He swam, his breaths heavy and staggered, his heart pumping with adrenaline, his muscles spasming under pressure. But he pushed onward, further and further away from the empty dock.

The more he approached, the more the figure became clearer, and he could now see the outline of her profile, her closed eyes and dry, whitened from the cold lips.

Gasping for air, the boy pressed on, his hair pooling around his features, salty water stinging his eyes. 

But he did not stop.

Not until she was close enough.

His muscles were aching by then and his speed had slowed significantly. He was beginning to tire fast, but he pressed on nonetheless, without pausing.

When she was close, he reached a desperate hand, pushing his legs with the last bits of his strength.

Then, when he thought that he could do it no more and water began seeping into his slowly drowning eyes, his fingers touched the fabric on her sleeve.

He scrambled to latched onto her forearm and dragged the limp body towards him.

Gasping for breath, he paused, keeping her afloat yet also working on slowing his breathing, in an attempt to regain ounces of his lost strength.

Smearing his short, wet strands of black hair across his forehead, he blinked away the salty droplets and looked at her face.

Her skin was dark, but she was pale. The white strands of long hair pooled around her form, matching the colour of her ashen, chapped and cracked lips.

She was no older than he was, perhaps a few years younger.

But while he was breathing, her skin was gelid cold and her chest was still and unmoving.

"Wake up." Loki croaked, his throat tight and parched. "Wake up."

He shook her slightly, carefully.

But she gave no response.

Struggling to stay afloat, Loki dragged his hand to her chest.

Grasping at the fabric, he reached her collarbone and placed his palm flat against her paling skin.

He shut his eyes and willed his shaking breath to steady, closing his mouth and letting his nose do the work of getting air to his lungs.

He felt his heartbeat slow, leisurely, the pumping in his ears quieting ever so slightly.

Then, he focused his warmth and let it surge through her.

In the misty white fog, a green light shimmered.

It lit her chest slowly, weak and flickering, but there nonetheless.

Loki let it move and shift into her for a moment, before he dropped his hand once more and opened his eyes.

He pulled her closer and looked upon her face, wide eyes searching her features for signs of life as his feet kicked frantically under the water.

Her lips, which before were colourless, fluttered with a shade of colour.

He gasped in relief then, a smile curving his features. There was still hope she was alive.

Without losing a moment, he glanced desperately at his surroundings — his magic was not strong enough to keep her warm for longer and he knew he had to get her back to shore.

But the mist was pressing in on them now, suffocating white surrounding them completely. There was no sky, no sight of the horizon, nor of the golden buildings and sands.

There was only fog and fog for miles on end.

Panic started to seize him and his breath began to shake and pick up in pace once more.

"Help!" The boy screamed as loud as his burnt-out lungs allowed him, "Somebody, help!"

His voice bounced and echoed, but died in the little space that the two were sharing.

Loki's legs felt weak and he let out a strangled whine, feeling his body being pulled deeper into the dark waters. Struggling to keep his mouth and nose on the surface, he kicked downwards as strongly as he could.

And then he screamed louder than he ever had.

"HELP!"

His voice boomed and revibrated in the white, static silence. It shook the waters around them and rippled through the curtains of fog.

But then it died and all went quiet again.

It was all silent once more.

Panic was now engulfing him and a choked, desperate sob rattled his chest, tears brimming the corner of his vision. The young prince flailed his arm around in the dark waters, staying afloat. But the other hand refused to release its clutching grip on the girl's dress. He kept her on the surface even as he was gasping for air, even as his limbs loosened and his tiredness began to lull him into relaxation.

The calming white around him embraced him and whispered to let go.

Gone was the adrenaline that had pushed him forward before, and he suddenly found himself desperately wanting to stop and rest.

He held on regardless, his teeth gritted in frustration, his lungs begging to release a hysterical scream.

It all seemed hopeless then.

He held on to her regardless as they floated, two castaways in the dark seas of Asgard.

Until a voice resounded from the darkness.

"Loki!"

Loki perked up, stifling a strangled gasp, breath catching in his throat. He stared, wide eyes blinking away tears and water.

Inwardly, he begged that the voice had not been a simple auditory mirage, that his mind had not finally betrayed him and conjured a cruel vision for him to bask in in his final moments.

He glanced into the direction of the voice, where the sound came from beyond the veil of mist. He stared silently at the white clouds, quitting all his movements, muffling even his respiration as much as he possibly could. Listening for any sound beyond the deadly curtains.

A moment passed.

"Loki!"

And the boy laughed, elated, his chest shaking hysterically with relief. Gods, he had never been more glad to hear Thor's thunderous voice than then.

"Thor!" He screamed for his older brother.

"Loki!" the voice was quiet, echoing from far away, deep in the profundity of the fog. But he heard it, and he now knew where to swim.

"Hold on!" The boy wailed. "I'm coming!"

He turned to the lifeless form floating next to him, wrapped an arm around her small torso, hoised her head above the surface and began to swim.

His pace was slow now and he was tired, but the adrenaline had returned, and it was propelling him further into the white mist.

Loki's legs kicked and kicked further, concentrated eyes staring forward with conviction, dark brows furrowed in assiduousness and effort.

He squirmed, he booted the cold waters, he kept them both afloat.

And when his eyes saw the burning torches in the distant mist, he thought he would cry of joy.

His lighthouse guided him forth and he swam forward, so long that he lost track of time.

When he had emerged from the mist, his boots hit the sand with a muffled thud.

He could not stand even when the bottom became too difficult to swim in. With the last ounces of strength, he dragged their bodies halfway out of the water, up to the edge where the calm waves seeped and melted into the sand.

Loki pushed himself and the girl forward, clawing and tearing at the shore, small pebbles and rocks piercing the skin under his fingernails. He felt the sand in his clothes and on his torso and legs, but he had no energy left to acknowledge any discomfort they brought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw lights moving in the distance and heard the crowd of footsteps and voices rushing to him from the other side of the beach.

He tried to call out to them but collapsed, his head dropping into the coarse sand with finality.

His breaths were ragged and irregular, his lungs felt lit on fire, and a piercing noise of static was slicing through his skull.

He wanted to vomit but had no energy to do so.

His body was shaking from physical strain, his eyelids felt heavy, and his extremities felt numb.

The waves were washing upon them, a cold blanket for their legs.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

In his final efforts, he flung his head in the opposite direction, turning away from the fast-approaching, desperate, muffled screams of his name and towards the young girl by his side.

She was lying there, motionless, strands of white hair strewn around her face and body, dark dress glued to her frame.

But as he dropped his gaze downwards, head dangling uselessly onto the side, his eyes caught the smallest movement of her chest.

He smiled a last tired breath of relief.

Feeling himself slipping, his eyelids began rolling shut.

Yet, through his blurred vision, he caught a final glance at her hand, clutched to her side, into a steely hold.

He could not tell if what he saw was real, nor what the object she was gripping was.

But as the voices got louder and nearer and his consciousness began to finally escape him, he flickered his wrist in a green hue of light and the object disappeared from sight.

Then, all went black.

--

Another chapter!

Not gonna lie, I cried to myself a little when I wrote the first scene. Always thought that the song he sang in the TV show was one his mother used to sing them when they were kids.

Also, the first 10 chapters of the story will be set on Asgard. To set a background for the characters and their involvement with one another.

Hope you enjoyed! Do leave me a comment if you did, I prefer them to likes anyway.

Thank you so much for reading, until next time. x