This story is a bit different from what you might expect from a typical story. It has no plot, no beginning, no ending, and no structure. What it is, is a series of stories detailing kid Loki’s adventures through the Nine Realms. My goal was to showcase the different worlds, while highlighting some of the aspects of the new Loki that I like so much. They can be read in any order, although I would suggest saving Asgard for last as it is the only chapter that makes any direct reference to the others.
I would like to extend a tremendous thank you to TypingKira for all of her assistance. Her knowledge of all things Thor was invaluable and she was always quick with a suggestion whenever I found myself lost. She was responsible for so much of this story and I certainly couldn’t have done this without her.
Wanderlust
Svartalfheim
Vanaheim
Jotunheim
Hel
Muspelheim
Nidavellir
Alfheim
Midgard
Asgard
LOKI AND ALL NONORIGINAL CHARACTERS AND SETTINGS ARE THE PROPERTY OF MARVEL INC. AND THEIR RESPECTIVE AFFILIATES.
Rated T for mild hints of violence
Svartalfheim
Loki’s pace quickened as he hurried through the dark, desolate forest. His sharp green eyes darted from shadow to shadow as he nervously looked for danger. He hadn’t seen any yet, but the gloomy setting did little to ease his overactive imagination.
He had never been to Svartalfheim, at least not that he could remember. That dark and perilous land of the Dark Elves filled him with apprehension. At the same time, a glimmer of excitement slowly built in his tiny body as he imagined the wondrous things that awaited him.
Loki jumped as an unseen bird screeched in the distance. The sound carried, making it seem as though it came from everywhere at once. It was not hard to imagine that some terrible bird hid in every shadow and in the boughs of every tree.
Puffing his chest out in an act of bravado, Loki strode deeper into the woods. He would not allow some simple bird to distract him. He had important business to attend to. He couldn’t allow Volstagg and the others take all the fun for themselves.
Soon he came to a small, babbling stream. The swift moving water looked to be a deep black. Whether it was a trick of the dark, moonless night, or if the water truly was black, Loki did not know. He didn’t much care either. He simply wished to be upon his way.
Nimbly, he made his way across the stream. His gold-trimmed boots landed lightly on the glistening rocks as he carefully picked his way across. He didn’t wish to touch the black liquid, even if it was nothing more than simple water.
As he landed safe and dry on the opposite bank, he turned to look at the steam. A proud grin adorned his face as he surveyed his victory.
“Boy –“ a harsh voice called out through the darkness, startling Loki from his victorious gloating. “Over here.”
Loki spun quickly, his heart racing. His eyes opened wide as he struggled to peer through the unnaturally thick darkness that covered the forest. After a few seconds he caught sight of a tall, powerfully built man. His bloody body leaned heavily against the trunk of a towering tree. His heavy armor appeared badly torn and battered.
“Uh – you mean me?” Loki asked skeptically as he looked around for anyone else.
The warrior nodded as he weakly pointed at the boy. “Yes, you. I am in need of your assistance young man.”
Loki glanced around once more before he began to stroll towards the bloody figure. “Looks like you’ve been in quite a fight,” he said curiously as he looked over the man. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Glorious battle,” he replied in a raspy voice. “My men and I led a raiding party into the heart of the damnable Dark Elves.” He stifled a wet cough before he continued. “We fared well until they called for reinforcements.”
Loki nodded his small head sagely as he listened to the man’s story. His pace had slowed slightly but he continued towards the man with deliberate steps. As he neared he could begin to see the man more closely. He was not familiar, but there was little doubt that he was a Vanir. Under the thick layer of blood that covered his breastplate was the telltale red wolf of the Vanir’s elite warriors.
“That’s a riveting story good warrior,” Loki marveled. “You must be part of the band of men that Odin personally set forth to skirmish with the dreaded Dark Elves!” His voice rose dramatically as he spoke, doing his best to sell the thrilling nature of his words.
“Why yes,” the man said with a small smile, “that was us. I regret that we failed. I must get back immediately and tell Odin of our mission.”
The man pushed himself away from the tree. His body wavered slightly as he struggled to balance himself on his unsteady legs.
“Boy, come closer. I need you to help me walk. I have lost too much blood to manage on my own.”
“Of course brave warrior!” Loki called out happily as he approached the warrior with light steps. Subtly his hand slipped into one of the small pouches that hung from his belt. His slender fingers wrapped around one of the thin glass vials that rested inside.
“Thank you, boy,” the warrior whispered as he reached out one of his arms towards Loki.
Loki came to a sudden stop. He rocked back whimsically as he stared thoughtfully into the dark sky. “You know,” he began in a sly voice, “the Red Wolves are famous for their ferocity in battle. It’s truly an honor to meet one.”
The man paused briefly as a bewildered expression clouded his face. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “Why yes, but we should hurry from this place. We do not want to be here should the Dark Elves return.
“You are absolutely correct,” Loki stated amiably as he took another step forward. He stopped once more, cocking his head to the side as he began to think. “A Red Wolf going to Asgard – this will be a big event for sure!” The man simply stared at Loki as he spoke, his eyes glazing over slightly. “I mean, it isn’t every day that one of Vanaheim’s famed Red Wolves, who have been lost for hundreds of years, suddenly deigns us with his presence!”
The bloody warrior’s expression began to harden as he listened to Loki’s thinly veiled accusations. His soulless eyes began to glow a bright red as his posture began to straighten. It quickly became apparent that his evident weakness and injuries were nothing more than a ploy.
“You are MINE!” the dreadful warrior bellowed as he lunged towards Loki. His long, powerful arms reached out eagerly for the small boy.
Loki had judged his paces carefully, remaining perfectly beyond the man’s reach. As his odd foe raced towards him, Loki calmly removed one of the thin glass vials from the pouch. With an effortless toss, he threw the flask towards the creature.
Blinded by its bloodthirsty rage, the creature barreled forward, oblivious to the arcing vial. The glass easily shattered at it struck the hard breastplate of the man’s armor. Instantly, the thick green liquid inside coated the metal, producing noticeable clouds of vapor that wafted up towards the man’s nose.
Loki watched with a bemused smile as the man skittered to a stop and began to futilely attempt to push away the noxious gas from its face. The man’s movements quickly began to slow as his body became more and more sluggish. Soon, his arms hung weakly at his side as he glared at Loki with his demonic red eyes.
The man’s form began to shift, almost imperceptibly at first but eventually the changes began to spread. His head twisted unnaturally as his arms and legs began to shrink and bend in a disturbing visage. Within moments the man no longer existed. In his place stood a large, red-eyed raven. The bird screeched at Loki before flying into the boughs of a nearby tree.
“Foolish valravn,” Loki called after the bird as it flew away. He pulled out a small knife from his belt and held it up threateningly, but the bird was long gone.
With a proud grin, Loki began on his way once more. He moved with a jaunty bounce to his step as he recounted his glorious victory over and over again in his mind. Suddenly, the forest no longer seemed to threatening.
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