LOKI IMAGINES

Don't You Dare Die On Me

This is a long one.

It's over 7k words.

WARNING: mentions of blood and gore

Nevertheless, please enjoy <33
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Being part god isn't the best part of all this celestial nonsense you've managed to get yourself into. It's actually getting to torture Loki, the God of Mischief, every damn moment of the day.

You see, when Loki had to stand in front of Odin and attend his trial for the crimes he's done against Midgard, the Allfather had something else planned for Loki. A prison, but with a little more creativity. (Frigga had suggested it, but of course Odin liked to take credit for most things.)

There has been unsettling rebellions brewing in the Northeast of Asgard, to the point where even the Einherjar's best generals are having difficulty in calming those riots down.

Apparently, there are people who are much too driven by both ambition and delusion, ones who dared to challenge Odin for the throne of Asgard.

It was this man, Jarl Broksson, who had the guts to parade himself, and spread his message and promises of what he would do differently if he were the Allfather. Most of which, appealed to many commoners. And thus, he now has a concerning amount of followers who are preparing for a battle that needed Odin's utmost attention.

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It hasn't been long since you've done the ritual with Loki that stitched your abilities together. Frigga had explained that your natural abilities and Loki's magic would fuse, then be equally distributed to the both of you. She also mentioned that your emotions and subconsciousness might also overlap at times.

You've always known how to fight, better than the above average mortal. Always training and always learning new techniques since the age of 5. Your father had insisted that you learn, and that you should be proficient at it because you're a woman. He had said that you'd most likely be picked on by wounded boys, trying to make themselves feel bigger by bullying little, defenseless girls. And that, you'd be the one to put them in their place.

Ever since the ritual, you've felt your hunger increase, your need for rest decrease, your strength double— maybe even triple— and now you heal quicker. You were a tad disappointed Loki's magic didn't flow through you as well, only his strength and stamina, but hey, you're still part god.

The God of Mischief on the other hand is most definitely not enjoying this punishment of his. It may be lighter than a lifetime in prison, never to see his mother or brother ever again, only the faces of nameless guards to give him his meals. But the Trickster does love to complain. He hated the way he was more vulnerable, weaker, easier to defeat even with his seidr. He despises the fact that he could sometimes feel what you feel, think what you think. Loki is absolutely hated the fact he has to share his gifts with a mortal.

“I can feel your anger, mortal,” Loki spat. You were on the ground, with his elbow wedged between your shoulder and neck. He managed to get you in this position while training. “Even when I am weaker, I can beat you in a fist fight.”

You scoffed. “Mere chance,” you retaliated, punching his nose with the back of your free fist. “You forget, I'm twice as strong now.”

“Only because of that damned ritual, my punishment,” said Loki bitterly. “If I'm not restrained then you'll certainly be in the dust.”

“That's too bad.”

“So cocky now, mortal. Just wait until I've—”

“Alright, that's enough,” Thor entered the training room. Loki had already summoned his trusty dagger and you were ready in a fighting position. Thor must've heard your and Loki's petty arguments through the door. “Brother, little warrior, Father requests for our presence.”