Recompense [Fólkvangr End, Book 1] [Loki Fanfiction]

Epilogue

Author's Note: Well. Hi. I feel like we are on a weird first date. I am putting everything I can into this...this baby, and then I just give it to you for your judgment. It's strange. It's more strange that this is the end of my baby. Stranger yet, it's been nearly one year since this began, with no Loki fanfiction experience but merely the love for the character and everything Marvel. SO! I figured I'd just spew some fun facts that you probably won't read anyway, but I like to pretend you will.

1. The final word count was 104,889 words. This is, surprisingly, longer than most classic novels. Though, definitely not longer than Ulysses. (Ha. Literature jokes.)

2. The word Loki appears in the text an overwhelming 1,181 times. The next closest word was Thor, which appears only 511 times.

3. There is over 20,000 other words of text that did not make it into the final story since when I wrote these bits I had a very different idea for the story. Very different. Like, strange. If it means anything, Sigyn played a much larger role, I had intentions of killing different characters and in the end, and Loki and Val never loved each other. Regardless to say, I am much more pleased with this story now.

4. The story totalled just about 202 pages on Word! AH.

Right! Now, here it finally is. The final installment of Recompense. Please enjoy, and make sure to comment and vote. And thank you again, most of all, for sticking with me, believing in me, and coming along for the ride. I couldn't have done it without you. <3

NEW! Check out the sequel to Recompense, entitled "Emprise". It can be found on my personal page. Thanks so much!

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“No, no, no!” I shake my head, staring up at the beast. “This is not happening. Sorry, but no.”

“Please?” Thor asks, clutching the reins in his hands. “It is my day of birth, Lady Val. I would be greatly honored if you and my brother both accompany me on this hunt.”

I shudder at the very thought of it, “Hunting is not my thing. Nor are horses, really.”

“Oh, come along then!” Loki teases from atop his horse and I glare at him which just widens his smile. 

“Can’t I just like sacrifice my goat, or my first born son or something?” I beg. Loki chokes but I ignore him. “That’s what us humble Midgardians do on the birthday of gods, right?”

“There will be no sacrificing of anything, especially not your children,” Thor says firmly, furrowing his brow. He doesn’t seem particularly amused by my antics. Something tugs at me, an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. In honesty, I think the last time I rode a horse was with Fandral. Loki doesn’t make much use of horses—teleporting here or there. And I get that I now live in a warrior-praised, testosterone driven world and hunting is a great sport, but I’m not sure I have it in me to kill, or watch anything be killed, right about now. There is such a fragile line between life and death, and a fragmented one between sport and cruelty.

Loki frowns, seeming to sense my unease, and he reaches down, offering me his gloved hand. “Come, ride with me, then.”

I sigh and take his hand, and I assume one of the riding party makes a crass joke, gauging from the stifled laughter and Loki’s tight and frustrated smile. I have to give him credit for not killing anyone, honestly. I know how much of his rage is still pent up inside him. He certainly has not forgiven or forgotten all the wrongs, and they weigh heavily on his conscience. That is not to say that Loki is on the brink of world domination again, by any means. But I can see how troubled he is sometimes, though he is hesitant to reveal it to me. Some nights we lay up together and speak our minds, which I find to be a great comfort to him, his own brand of therapy.