Son of Mischief (Loki/Asgard Fanfiction - Selig's Story)

Prologue

Long Beach Island, New Jersey

Summer

Ever since he was a little boy, Selig Lokison loved the Jersey Shore. His parents brought him and his brother and sisters there every year for as long as he could remember and the memories were mostly good. One summer, it rained the entire week. Another year, he and his sister Aislinn both got swimmer's ear and neither one was allowed in the ocean. And then of course, there was the year two great white sharks were spotted off the coast. His mother didn't want them on the beach, never mind in the water.

This was the time of year when his parents left Asgard to spend some time at their house in Mantoloking. His mother, McKenna was Midgardian and according to family lore, she fell in love with his father, Loki at the Jersey shore and so it became their favorite place to vacation.

For Selig, the Jersey shore was someplace where he could just relax with his Midgardian friends and blow off a little steam. Asgard was home, but Midgard was where all the pressure was lifted from his shoulders and at times, his favorite place in the nine realms of the universe.

"Where are you, Selig?"

He blinked back into the present, smiling as Celia Baker snapped her fingers in his face. A swish of his fingers, and the snapping noise stopped, even as she repeated the motion.

"That's not funny, Sel," she told him, scowling as her hand went still. "Stop."

"Sorry, Ce." He waved his hand again. "Try it now."

She snapped her fingers again and this time, the noise returned. "I hate when you use your magic on me. You know that."

"Come on, Ce, it was just a joke." Selig reclined onto one elbow on the warm sand. It was prom weekend and although he didn't attend Midgardian high school, Celia did and when she'd asked him to go to the dance with her, he couldn't say no. She was his best friend and the one person he made a point of seeing every time he came to Midgard.

"Well, it's not funny when you do it to me."

He grinned at her. "Sure it is."

She scowled again. "Um, no. No, it's not."

"Okay. You win. I'm sorry."

"You know, somehow, I never believe you when you tell me you're sorry for something."

The wind blew in off the water, adding a hint of a nip to the night air, but seeing as he was half-Jötunn, or Frost Giant, the cold didn't bother him at all. But Celia shivered, so he tugged his NY Giants hoodie over his head and handed it to her. "Here. You look cold."

"Are you sure you don't need it?"

He waved off her concern. "You know I don't feel the cold like you do."

She tugged the sweatshirt over her head and snuggled into it. It was way too big on her, seeing as how she was maybe five foot four and he was a good foot taller.

Still, she smiled up at him even as the sleeves fell way past her hands and she had to roll them up. "Thanks, Sel."

"Sure." He raked his fingers through his hair to pull it away from his face. "Times like this, I wish I didn't have to go home." He turned to peer up at her. He and Celia had been friends since they were three years old. For the longest time, she was the only one of his Midgardian friends who knew the truth about him, who knew about Asgard and that his father was Loki, King of Asgard, and that he could do magic. As the years passed, and he spent more and more time away from Midgard, her other friends slowly learned the truth about him, which made him even more popular when he came to visit her. Everyone wanted to know Selig Lokison, especially the girls. Not that he'd ever complain about that.

"So, don't go home." She shrugged, moving closer to him.

"Still cold?"

"A little."

He grinned and held out his arm. "Come here."

"You aren't going to turn blue on me, are you?"

"I thought you promised to keep that to yourself."

Her laugh rolled toward him as she cuddled against him. "No one heard me over the fire. Want another beer?"

"Sure."

She twisted to the cooler behind them and rummaged about, coming up with a bottle of Coors Light. The cooler was near them because he had the ability to make it disappear with only a swish of his hand if Beach Patrol came along. Same went with the bonfire burning brightly near them. Although it was illegal to have a fire on the beach, everyone knew Selig Lokison could make it all just go poof if need be.

He took the bottle and with a flick of his fingers, the cap was gone. He'd lost count of how many beers he'd had. Unlike full-blooded Midgardians, he didn't get drunk off a few bottles. It took much more, but he was feeling no pain as Celia tucked her head against his shoulder, a bottle of her own in one hand.

She looked up at him, her skin almost ivory in the glow of the firelight. He'd known her since they were three years old and yet, he never noticed until just then that her eyes were deep blue. Or that when she smiled, she had dimples. Or that her mop of unruly blonde curls were escaping her messy bun and they were almost sinfully soft as they brushed his bare arm.

"Why're you looking at me like that, Sel? Do I have something on my face?" She swiped at one cheek with her free hand.

"No." He shook his head, unable to keep from looking at her. It was like he was seeing her for the first time. And he definitely liked what he saw. "You look beautiful."

Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her. He was hesitant at first, but when her lips moved against his, he caught her face in one hand, nudged her lips apart with the tip of his tongue, and almost groaned as she responded in kind. The bonfire, the others, even the Beach Patrol, was forgotten as Selig pressed her down into the sand.

***

It was rare for him to wake up with a hangover, but when he did, it was brutal. Especially when the sun streamed in through the window to hit him right in the face. Selig swore softly as he lifted his head, swished his fingers to make the curtains fall over the windows and block out the blasted light, and then he flopped back down.

Onto a mass of blonde corkscrew curls.

He turned to see Celia sound asleep next to him. What happened? Why was she in his bed and where the hell were their clothes...

Oh...

Hell...

She was his best friend. What the hell was he thinking?

With a sigh, she snuggled up to him, murmuring, "Selig..." in her sleep.

Panic surged through him. If he was still there when she woke up, it was sure to lead to a bunch of questions he just didn't want to answer. She'd want him to stay and he couldn't. Nor did he think his parents would be thrilled if he brought her to Asgard. They were funny that way. Midgardians weren't exactly welcome in Asgard, his mother, him, and siblings being the rare exception.

He looked around, as if a solution would appear before him. There was one, but Celia would hate him for it.

Then again, she'd probably hate him anyway, considering how they spent the night. It was entirely possible that if she woke up alone, she'd think she dreamed everything.

With that in mind, he carefully untangled himself from her and eased down from the bed. Their clothes were scattered all over the room and brief flashes of what happened the previous night spun through his head, each one making him groan more than the last.

When he was dressed, he crept out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the obscenely bright sunlight, which made his eyes burn and his head pound. All he wanted to do was go home and forget last night ever happened.

"Heimdall!" He winced as the little men inside his head swung their razor-sharp pickaxes to embed deep in his brain. Rainbow light sparkled all around him, an invisible hook snagged him about the waist, and in a blur of swirling color, he left Midgard-and Celia-far behind.