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Laufey walked through the rubble of his capital city. The Aesir were gone, and they had taken everything of value with them. Artifacts, art, weapons, and whatever trinkets they could rob from the commoners.
Even though he had never been overly fond of her, Hela was gone too, and in a way that was just as well. She had approached him about going against Asgard. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It didn't seem like such a brilliant move now.
He licked his split lip in annoyance. Peace the Aesir called it, but there was nothing peaceful about the capital. Screams from the dying, and screams from those hovering over the dead mingled with yelled orders from his army, busy patching up the city walls to make it somewhat defensible again.
“It's not looking good,” one of the captains from the city guard said.
Laufey shrugged, normally being sneaked up on would have bothered him, but he had bigger concerns. Or none, really, since he could not do anything at the moment.
“We have food. They never touched that. Took most of the alcohol though. We won't starve, but... if we're attacked again... a small band of bandits could finish us off.”
“No one will try tonight. Get some sleep. If they come, they come with first light.”
Laufey did not bother going to bed himself until much later when he was exhausted enough to perhaps manage it. The palace was intact, mostly, even if the servants had fled. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep for a decade.
The toddler screaming inside a hidden space in the wall made sleep seem far away. It was an excellent hiding spot. Perhaps he should have gone with his first instinct and left the child somewhere easily found.
“I should have left you with your mother. Then it would have been your grandfather's problem to deal with you,” he grumbled, but he still went to retrieve the half-breed child he had sired. “You'll be nothing but trouble.”
After a thorough cleaning and a bit of thin gruel the child went blissfully quiet. Laufey sat on his bed and put the child in his lap, its back resting against his thighs. Too small and too weak to do more than wave its arms, the child nevertheless laughed when he waved a finger in front of it.
“I should get rid of you, little parasite.”
Laufey woke up much sooner than he wanted to. His injuries felt stiff and sore, and his left leg hurt something fierce. The first thing he saw was the little half-breed sleeping between a couple of pillows, where he had trapped the weakling before going to sleep.
It looked peaceful in its sleep.
“You are nothing but a parasite,” he muttered.
He got up, checked his wounds, dressed and ended up sitting on the bed staring at the toddler again. He had no time to care for a child. Especially not a child developing slowly. It should walk already, but it was still helpless and all the healers could say was that half-breeds were usually slower to develop.
Laufey heaved a great sigh.
Parasite or not, he could not quite work up the determination to kill the thing. It was perfectly helpless, he would just have to apply a bit of pressure, or drop it, but perhaps it was the helplessness that made it so hard. Perhaps it was that he had held the little thing in his arms right after the birth and it had shifted from pink to blue in response to his cold skin.
Maybe he was just cursed.
He rummaged through his clothes and managed to make a sling of sorts so that he could strap the child to his chest and still have use of his arms. “You will come with me, and if that is not to your liking you can complain to your mother.” Wherever she was banished to.
The tyke stirred briefly when he lifted it, but went back to sleep when he shushed at it. He secured the little parasite and took a little while to readjust everything. With a steadying hand on it Laufey left.
Laufey took the child with him everywhere, for years. The small toddler grew to a small child, but for all that little changed. Laufey carried the half-breed everywhere. When audiences were held it sat on his lap, when he traveled it was strapped to his chest, and soon enough the only time when the child was left with a servant was when he trained.
Loki was a quiet child, normally. A clever child, but a very quiet one. Fragile too, not like normal children who were sturdy. Thin and delicate and very much a parasite.
A wailing parasite.
“What is it now?” Laufey asked when he arrived him his private rooms.
“He's afraid of the thunder,” the servant who had looked after the thing muttered and left. Loki was supposed to be learning his letters and numbers, but Laufey had no hope of this occurring while the thing hid and screamed.
Nothing but trouble.
The wailing stopped when Laufey went to his bed and dragged the thing out from under it. Big, teary eyes blinked once at him. He sat down on the bed and hauled the thing with him. It clung to his neck. Laufey rubbed a hand up and down the thing's back. He wasn't fond of thunder himself.
“Was the servant nice to you?” He laid down on his back. He had a bruise on his shoulder the size of a hand from his sparring with one of the lieutenants. It would be healed soon enough, but it hurt to have Loki press against it.
Loki sobbed again, but didn't wail. There was something muffled that sounded like “papa” and Laufey supposed that was enough answer. It didn't matter how nice the babysitters were when a child wanted a parent.
When the little parasite began to become independent Laufey thought it was hilarious. Oh, the little thing would try, but mostly there was failure and tears.
It was a sign though.
The little parasite was growing up.
“Look!” Loki called and held a hand out. The tiny, blunt icicle he created was not impressive, but Laufey smiled anyway.
“Good job! You might even manage to stab an Aesir with that,” he praised. “As long as you go for a soft spot. Like the eyes.”
“Are they still keeping mom locked away?” Loki asked in a whisper, as if he didn't want to admit to wanting a mother.
“Don't know, but I assume so. She wanted to destroy Asgard, I doubt her father will risk her running about freely.”
Loki turned his icicle into mist and reached up with both arms.
Because he was a small, weak and breakable little parasite, Loki had to see the healers frequently. Laufey supposed it was not strictly necessary, but how else was he to know the thing developed normally?
“He's done growing,” the healer said.
Laufey shrugged. “Good, then he won't constantly whine about growing pains.”
Loki pouted. “You're sure?”
“Face it, you're a tiny parasite,” Laufey teased.
“I had just hoped I'd keep growing.”
“You reach the ground with both feet when you stand up, what more do you need?”
“Father,” Loki complained.
“Loki,” Laufey mimicked.
Laufey sighed when his bed dipped. “I'm sleeping,” he grumbled.
“There's a thunderstorm.”
“Mm, and you're all grown up.”
“Don't care.”
“You're nothing but trouble,” Laufey groaned, but allowed the parasite to burrow in next to him.
Loki had a bedroom of his own – though what he actually used it for Laufey had no idea. It was too dark, too cold, or there was some storm outside and just like that the parasite was back and clinging to him.
Though, at times it was nice to have someone close.
He wasn't fond of thunder himself.