MIDGARD: VICTOR
Bright white lights shone on Victor. The 17 year old Victor had grown into quite the young man, he had his mother's dark hair, mixed with a dash of reddish brown hair on the side of his head. His hair flew wildly like an untameable nest of wild snakes, Sigyn's fair skin had been passed on. His eyes radiated mischief like the sun radiated heat. Beyond that, he wore a battered leather coat and black jeans. In his pale hands he fiddled with a small piece of paper, cue cards. Among his interests, he had a real knack for debate, he loved standing in front of an opposing speaker and using his eloquence and carefully articulated words to dismantle the other speaker. He looked at the judges and smirked at the opposing speaker, a short curly redhead boy that, Victor noticed had a sweaty brow, quivering hands, and unfocused eyes. Good, he thought, nervousness.
The moderating professor stood up and in a thick French accent: "The issue on the table: Are things predestined to a certain destiny? Debate."
The red headed boy spoke first: "I wish to say that predestination is quite real, and that everything is destined to be something on day or another. For example, sociopaths are destined to be psychotic no-ones in life." The red head sneered at Victor.
Victor hardened his wolf-like stare and focused right at the redhead's murky brown eyes. He noticed the boy's pupils constrict, good, he was becoming angry... irrational... temperate.
The redhead continued after a split second: "it would be foolish to presume that we can outrun destiny and that we can ever change..." he petered out. Victor noticed the red head's fingers constrict around the frayed edges of the paper. Victor stood up: "Objection your honour."
The red head's cheeks flushed an angry red as Victor rose. Victor winked at his opposition, which only served to fuel the opposition's anger. He put down his cue card. He didn't need it: "Your honor I would like to suggest a different approach, while we are all predestined to a future, the precise circumstances are equivocate behind layers of chance and minute details. However. If you will indulge me, in mathematical principles, even the smallest details, positives, negatives, etcetera, could alter the final solution by monumental magnitudes. Additionally, even in literature, would Loki in the Lokasenna be condemned to the fate of being incarceration? Perhaps. But he had a choice. And there is nothing to suggest, even in our own lives. While we make choices, the outcome is not inevitably prompted by an external force. Your honor, today I would like to propose that, while there is always a future, and what will come will come, but by altering the details, we are able to control our fates independent of external forces."
(TIME SKIP)
Victor ran down the rainy streets of London, a sprawling city with antiquated architecture and cars that zoomed through the busy streets like portals to their own dimensions. He skidded next to the door of a house built into the side of the street, identical to the countless others that framed it. Over his years on Earth, He and his mother Sigyn, who now worked as a history teacher, had lived in many cities, New York, Zurich, Vancouver, now London. Victor and his mother had always been financially strained, but always had enough to get by. Victor was academically gifted, yet he prefered literature, particularly Norse plays. When he studied 'Lokasenna' he was ecstatic. Though he may not have had friends, he made acquaintances easily, knowing they were doomed to fail. He had finished college just a few months prior. However, his academic life has little bearing on our current story. He opened the mahogany door and stepped into his house. His mother Sig, he just called her Sigyn out of his love for Norse Mythology most of the time. His mother had done well keeping her identity secret from him for the longest time, the 17 long years had not dulled the kindness in her eyes, her hair now was done up in a neat bun and she wore tight jeans and a black blouse. The house was modest, a double floored house, it had simple linoleum floors. A small stone table in the Center of the living room. A quaint doorway to the kitchen that wafted Sigyn's cooking. The wall was packed with books. He was celebrating the 5th year he had been in England.
Sigyn stepped towards Victor: "My son! How was your day today?" Victor has always adored his mother, he would always share his day with her: "nothing much mother. Debate club was too easy" She loved the young man her son had grown to be. It always reminded her of Loki. The same intensity in his eyes, the reddish tint his had in his hair, and the way he smiled reminded her of Loki's smile every time she protected him from the snake venom or was on the verge of inconveniencing some poor Aesir. She had baked her son a four layered chocolate cream cake: "Make a wish Victor." Sigyn said. Victor carelessly brushed aside his overgrown locks: "I wish to meet my father." Victor declared after staring at the ceiling. Sigyn internally winced at that, knowing that question would come, Victor had always wanted to meet his father and time and time again Sigyn would tell him the same lie, and she told it again now: "One day you will meet your father. He is a very important man and the last time I saw your father, there was something important to be done. And one day, when that job is complete, you will see your father."
Victor nodded, used to this response, he picked up the cake knife and cut into the cake. Victor bantered with his mother while he inhaled his slice of cake. The rest of the rainy day passed uneventfully, Victor sat in his room and read 'Paradise Lost' lost in his own thoughts and white noise of the rain immersed him into a world of a heavenly saints, fallen tricksters, and wicked deceptions. His attention would normally be captivated for hours on end, his eyes gleaming with devilish desire to read more. But today, on his 17th birthday, he felt restless.
Victor slipped out of the house and walked down to the Thames, his favourite place to stay. He felt the fat raindrops pelt his skin, He glanced across the rippling surface of the water. Suddenly his eyes were attracted by the gleam of gold.
He slipped his hand through the gate and fished the golden object out of the water. He inspected it. It was perfectly circular. It was smooth and plain on one side. Victor flipped it around and saw something that would change his life forever.
There was a single word and a single rune. The rune was Kenaz, Wildfire. Above it, 'LOKI'. Victor marveled at the craftsmanship. The edges were damascened, therefore it must have come from a long time ago, but it should not have been possible. For the edges shone like the noonday sun, the surface smooth like baby skin, the engraving were clean and untarnished. Victor ran his fingers down the edges of the medal, softly intoning under his breath: "Loki..." He suddenly felt the medal grow warm. Victor tried to fling it away when it got uncomfortably warm. However, the surface stuck, and even more horrifyingly, the surface then warped and seemingly melted into him. Searing the Kenaz rune into his forearm Victor screamed in fear. Compounding the horror, something very unexpected happened.
Two blazing purple fire horns blazed from his forehead.
Victor screamed even louder as he tried to wave the spectral flames away. His anguish turned into self-frustration as he realised he couldn't do anything to get rid of the horns. His anger caused the horns to change from purple to crimson. Victor also realised, even in the rain, the horns didn't so much as waver. Finally he calmed down and the horns dissipated. Cursing under his breath he turned around to return home. He turned around to see three large goons.
Victor groaned: "Who are you and what do you want?"
The largest goon chortled moronically: "Give us your money boy, or we'll just take it."
Victor, used to bullies rolled his eyes and said: "Oh please, just go off yourselves."
Suddenly a very odd look came over the goons eyes, they seemed to glaze over and roll back. In a monotone they all said: "As you desire..." The three goons barreled off the side of the rail and crashed into the Thames.
Victor, already shook from the ordeal with the fiery horns, was almost paralyzed with fear when he seemed to pull off a stunt of what seemed to be mind control: "AAAAAA GGGHHH!" Victor shrieked. He peered over the edge and the three goons were already lying face down at the bottom.
Terrified of what just happened Victor ran back home. He raced down the cobbled streets and back to his house. He burst through the door to see his mother's shocked expression. His mother's shocked expression turned into a look of motherly anger: "Victor! Where were you? How many have I told you to never leave the house unannounced?!" Victor collapsed into his mother's arms: "I'm sorry mother, something happened when I was at the Thames... I won't ever leave like that again." Sigyn looked at her crying son who had buried himself in her arms: "It's alright Victor, tell me what happened at your own pace."
