SOMEWHERE UNKNOWN: PROLOGUE
In a solitary cave, a figure stands over another. With them is a swaddle of bundles. The figure in flowing white robes standing over the fallen man and carrying the bundle is Sigyn, wife of Loki. Her jet black hair cascaded down her back like a soft waterfall. Her white dress is pristine save for the mud speckled hem. Her eyes glistened softly with tears, distorting the beetle black irises. Her fair skin seemed to glow in the darkness of the cave as she stared down at the bundle. The fallen man could not be more different. He looked gaunt, his skin a sickly pale color, his once auburn hair now a faint orange. His once blazing horns of fire now sputtered weakly in the piercing cave draft. His tattered robes were once adorned with furs and other reddish pelts, the finest across the realms, now but thin and worn fabrics stitched together. His limbs were bound to the cavern floor. His eyes alone retained their blazing intensity, like ponds of scorching lava, they stared up at Sigyn's black eyes. In his eyes was the fire of determination, he had been confined to his cave for many a millenia. This was the once mighty Wildfire of Asgard, the greatest trickster in the Realms, this was Loki, Loki the Great, Loki the Treacherous, Loki the Outcast.
Sigyn looked down upon her husband with great melancholy in her eyes. She lowered the bundle close to Loki, from within the bundle, a small gurgle was heard. Loki's chapped lips cracked into a genuine smile, a lost sensation he had long since forgotten. He spoke, like a magical musical instrument that had never been used for many winters, he mellifluous soft voice echoed off the walls of the cave: "Let me see my son." Sigyn's eyes shone with pride when she gazed upon her son. The infant giggled in his bundle. His chubby face, his fatty torso, and stubby little limbs, Sigyn loved her son. He had a thin glaze of jet black hair on his head, one soft brown one and another amber one. Upon seeing his son for the first time, Loki commented in his angelic voice: "He's beautiful."
At that moment, a spray of green mist from above crashed into Loki's face, narrowly missing the child. Loki's eyesight was suddenly clouded and he recoiled violently in response.
Loki's vision swam. He knew this feeling all too well, afterall, he had endured this punishment for well over 2 millenia. Visions of his former misdeeds clouded his mind. He saw his trick on the hunter Thiassi, the mighty falcon hunter plummeted to his death in a wall of fire. Suddenly, Loki was the falcon, he felt the fire of the Aesir scorch his flesh, searing his soul, Thiassi's pain was his. Next he saw Balder, his treachery and jealousy had caused his murder at the hands of his own brother. He watched the arrow fly from Hodor's bow and pierce the soft cherubic skin of Balder. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled him. However, a split second later, a needle-like pain plunged deep into his heart, like an arrow. Balder's shattered heart was his. He experienced more foR this, his past sins and grievances against the kinsmen of Odin. Andvari, Hodor, Sif. His list of misdeeds was most extensive. Finally, mentally battered, he saw the hall of Aegir, the place of his final outing, he saw himself standing before the assembled Aesir, condemning them with his words, his words laced with malice and hatred. But instead of hearing what he really said that fateful day that condemned him here, the words he spoke picked at his own deepest flaws and insecurities. Telling him he was deserving of his punishment, that there was no one who would ever love him, he was eternally hateful due to his own inadequacy. Those words cut deeper than any knife, hurt more than a blow from Mjolnir, more than the fires of primordial chaos. The words poured over his soul like acid, burning his every pore and insecurity.
Loki's eyes flew back open. He was spread eagled on the floor, sweating in terror and fear. The green serpent coiled on the stalactite hissed in pleasure and slinked back into his alcove in the ceiling. Sigyn looked upon Loki with pity in her eyes, her fallen angel shivering pathetically on the cold stone floor. Loki gasped: "Go... take the child. I release you from me... I deserve this..." Sigyn leans in and kisses Loki softly on his scarred cheek. Sigyn's whispery voice said: "I love you my angel, what do you want your son to be called?" Loki gave that a thought: "Victor, he will be our victor. He will see us restored to Asgard." Sigyn held Victor tight: "Victor..." she mulled the name over. Loki and Sigyn's eyes met and they realised what must be done: "Go. Before the Allfather realises what has transpired here. Keep our son safe my beloved. One day I vow to you, I will see our son succeed. And one day I will reclaim him" Loki urged. Sigyn nodded: "I will miss you, I will think of your eyes and your warmth, I love you my Wildfire, my Loki." And with that, Sigyn vanished in a shower of sparkles and the scent of roses.
Every day before today, Sigyn had stopped the venom of the serpent from hitting his face, now without the people he cared about most near him, Loki felt powerless, weak, and completely exposed under the snake. He glared at the rocky ceilings, anger filling his mind, and he shouted: "Curse you Odin! Is this what you wanted? Me at your feet for all time, my heart bleeding and waxing poetic for you Aesir to sit and watch like a play? For many winters I have suffered and been chained. No matter, I may be your little toy, but one day, you pretentious bastards will be on my leash like I was on yours. You will know what it feels to be bound, tortured, and played like a ragdoll. I will sit from the heavens and watch as you struggle helplessly. Afterall, Allfather, you of all people should know, there is no stopping fate, what comes around, goes around; and I am waiting for my turn."
