Purpose (Loki One Shot Series)

The Nightmare / The Apology

I blinked several times, opening my eyes to find that I was surrounded by a frozen wasteland. Snow was piled up all around me, and continued to slowly drift down from the sickly-looking grey sky above. I sat with my arms wrapped around my body as if I were struggling to maintain heat, yet the coldness did not seem to affect me. I looked down at my knees that were drawn up to my chest, realizing that the green and black armor I always wore was torn to shreds, revealing areas of bare skin and several bloodied cuts scattered across my arms, legs, and sides. There must have been some sort of injury to my face as well, as the coppery taste of blood teased my mouth. I had no recollection of how I had gotten where I was, but knew that I was stranded, injured and alone. It had to be the realm of Jotunheim, the descriptions and artwork I had always seen since I was a child seemed to match the landscape perfectly.

Several steps away to my right, I saw a glint of light on top of a small mound of snow. When I looked closer, I realized that it was my helmet, cracked down the center but still wearable. I struggled to stand on my feet, taking great effort to lift my scraped knees from the icy ground. I had tried to heal some of the more severe gashes on my body with my magic before doing so, but it had done no good. Something was definitely amiss.

As I looked around the area around me for any signs of life that could be of aid, I heard the bellowing laughter of my father.

"Foolish boy." His voice was equally as loud and demanding. He appeared in a flash of lightning, Thor standing behind him with a solemn expression, his eyes glued to where I stood.

"Father, I don't know what's happened, I can't-I-" I stammered as I shouted to them, unable to form the words I thought. I was overwhelmed by the confusion and the pain that was slowly beginning to make itself known throughout my body. My father shook his head and in only a few steps approached where I stood, his eyes unmoving from mine.

"Loki, you still have no idea do you? You wonder why Thor has always been a step above you. You don't realize you are not even a true prince of Asgard."

His laugh echoed in my ears again, and I found myself covering them with my hands, unable to bear his joy amidst my misery. A swift jerk of his arm pulled me closer to him, and my feet dangled slightly off the ground as he held me by the collar of my tunic. The look on his face showed no sign of compassion or concern, only...hatred? My father...

"You are not my son, Loki. You never were, and you will never have the throne!" The ground trembled beneath us, and I craned my neck far enough to see that below me, a massive hole had appeared in the ground, a pit of black nothingness glaring back at me. I tried to call to Thor, but no sound would escape my lips. I looked past Father's shoulder to see him still standing as he had been since he'd appeared, saying nothing, staring into the distance as if I were not even there. I struggled to free myself from my father's strong grasp, but knew it was of no use. My throat burned from my efforts to shout, and I suddenly found myself afloat in the air, then falling into the bottomless hole of darkness as my father laughed once more.

A seemingly urgent tapping awoke me, and I sprung up into a sitting position, gasping for air. I looked around; I was in my room again, a dim candle I had neglected to put out flickering shadows onto the wall. My body did not bear a single scratch, and I felt no pain. It was a nightmare. Only a dream. Yet it had seemed so...real. I was struggling to gain my composure.

The knock came again, this time a bit louder. I took in another deep breath and placed my feet onto the cool floor, making my way to the main door to my room where the sound seemed to be coming from. Hesitantly, I released the lock and opened the door, almost jumping in surprise when I saw the delicate figure standing on the opposite side. Her arms wrapped around her body almost as mine had been in my dream.