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“Tell us a story!”
“Yes, please Daddy, a story?”
“Alright, alright, but just one. What kinda story do you rugrats want?”
“Uhh...”
“A love story!”
“Eww, no! I want a story where Dad beats somebody up!”
“Nooooooo-”
“Chill out munchkin, I think I can solve this problem. How about a story with danger, fights, gambling, love, se- uh, love, and honor?”
“Will this story be finished before bedtime?”
“Oh hey there! Didn't hear you come home!”
“I gathered.”
“Pleeeeaaaase?”
“Pleeeeaaaase?”
“Pleeease?”
“Really? You too?... Fine. When all three of you are grumpy tomorrow morning, don't say I didn't warn you.”
“Thanks cupcake. Now, where to begin?... A long, long time ago, in a land far away, Daddy was undercover, pretending to be a god...
It didn't take long for Gabriel-- or Loki, as he now called himself-- to make somebody in Jutlund really super pissed off at him, enough that he thought it wise to take a vacation. Luckily, there was a whole lot more world to explore. He hadn't met that many humans face to face yet, hadn't realized how fun they could be, so most of the time he spent traveling was either admiring the Earth itself, or visiting the courts of the many local gods he passed on the way. After a long, fabulous time in central Africa and a depressingly long time-- followed by a quick exit-- in Egypt, Gabriel found himself in a fertile land within a god’s view of the world’s tallest mountain range.
Although there was a perfectly serviceable mountain in the area, the local gods had moved their palaces onto clouds in order to make room for farming. Gabriel found this curious; in Jutlund, where he’d spent most of his time on Earth so far, the land of the gods was venerated, and would never be altered for mere mortals. It convinced him to meet these unusual gods instead of continuing over the mountains, to a land which he’d heard was prospering with amazing artistry and magic.
This village of gods, however, had its own draws. Intricate carvings and sculptures made of the finest materials decorated everything from palace walls to the sidewalks. The palaces of these gods were brightly colored and majestic, open to the warm air and the sweet perfumes that suffused the neighborhood. Everything from the braziers that cooked sacrificial meat to the sandals worn by the divine inhabitants glowed with the power of worship.
As beautiful and comfortable as the collection of palaces their small town were, however, Gabriel could remember more majesty, more awe, in Heaven. Though the Earth itself, wild and ever-changing, was more beautiful than Gabriel's former home, the creations of the deities couldn't measure up-- not in his mind, at least. He quickly tired of the palaces and was wandering aimlessly around the village, when he heard the music of a sarangi and the cheers of a large crowd. As he moved closer, Gabriel could smell the most delicious spices on the air and spotted some demigods betting on an archery competition. Another regaled a small crowd with a story accompanied by magical sound and light effects. Stopping by a crowd admiring some blue-tinted bellydancers, he struck up a conversation with a bat-god and figured out what was going on.
As Gabriel surmised through casual eavesdropping, Imalay, the king of this area’s gods, was holding the festival to marry off his eldest daughter. He found himself surprised again, as the goddesses of Jutlund chose their own husbands. In Heaven, he recalled, feeling a pang deep down inside, his sisters were free. None of them would have been controlled in that way, and none of them would have stood for it were any other angel to try. Gabriel crept closer to the largest crowd, in front of which the king was holding court, wanting to sneak a look at the goddess who was to be given away.
He had to force his way through a crowd to get a good view, making use of the elbows on his vessel (he was uncommonly short for a god, but it wasn't like he could find another one now that his fellow gods knew him like this). Finally, he found his way to the front, and what he saw struck him still and silly.
She was tall, dark, and unbelievably beautiful. To the beat of drums, the chiming twang of the sitar, she danced. From her arms came flowing light that melted into the ether, from her stomping feet came lines of fire. Her skin glowed from within like banked coals, her eyes burned.
And she looked like she was flying as she danced. Gabriel's vessel's eyes watered from a sudden heartache-- both entirely new sensations-- and his mouth watered from lust, also a first. Her graceful motion, like she wasn't touching the ground at all, was like the wavering of a flame in the wind: vicious and violent, wild and uncontrollable. Her teeth bared in a cruel grin as the music came to a climax, like she was drawing power from the dance even as the tongues of fire trailing her motions spoke of a deep and terrifying anger.
Gabriel was in love.
The drums smashed a final time and she froze. The vortex of flames disappeared inside her skin and her silk layers fluttered and fell still. She held her final pose, then placed her palms together in front of her chest and bowed deeply to the crowd. Everyone watching began to howl and stomp their feet in amazement.
The king stood from his pillowed chair and held up his arms for silence, which was quickly granted. “Friends, both old and new! I welcome you to my home.” A drum-roll from the tabla chased his words to the edges of the crowd. “The time has come. My daughter, Premadasi, is ripe to be wed. I invite any who believe they are worthy to step forward and fight for her hand!”
A wide circle had been cleared to allow the goddess-- Premadasi-- to dance. The edges of the circle blurred as dozens of gods, demigods, idols, and rakshasas threw themselves forward, shouting to be heard. All proclaimed themselves worthy-- the only one worthy-- to marry Premadasi.
Gabriel fought the urge to raze them all to the ground. These deities, crying out to Imalay, ignoring the cutting glares of the beguiling Premadasi, didn't deserve her. They didn't deserve to watch her create beauty from emptiness with her dance, to look on her matchless face. They didn't deserve her because not a single one of them was crying out to her.
Imalay announced that nine competitors would be selected, as nine was an auspicious number. Gabriel watched as the suitors were picked from the crowd. The first had snakelike eyes that made their way sinuously up Premadasi's body, causing the goddess to curl her lip in disgust. The second turned around to face the crowd upon his selection, flexing his muscles and crowing as though he'd already won. The third simply strode forward as though being chosen were his due, not even looking at Premadasi, but rather inspecting his many jeweled rings.
The next four were just as bad. When the eighth man was selected, weak of godly power to Gabriel's discerning eye and ugly to boot, the angel in disguise found himself stepping forward. The king’s eye flicked toward him and his hand, raised for the final selection, did not descend.
“Who are you, foreigner?”
“I am Loki,” Gabriel answered. He spoke clearly, but casually, like he didn't care about the proceedings; his usual behavior since he'd come to the Earth. “I'm from the far North, and West.”
“You seek to possess my daughter?”
Gabriel barely hid a scowl, but his hesitation was noticed. Premadasi's gaze, focused on the sky in a way that was not quite an eye-roll, came to rest on him, curious and biting. “I seek to marry your daughter,” he answered.
The king’s forehead furrowed in suspicion, but then he grinned widely. “Why not? Let us add some spice to the game!” The assembled spectators waiting upon his word hissed and shouted their agreement.
Mentally strangling himself for getting involved, Gabriel found himself shoved to one side with three of the other suitors. The snake-eyed god hissed at Gabriel-- he actually had a forked tongue. Gabriel shuddered, reminded horribly of the reputation of snakes back home in Heaven.
Luckily, snake-eyes was one of the first pair called to fight, and Gabriel was not. As he and another suitor clashed staffs, Gabriel had the awful realization that he had no weapon. For his entire existence, he'd simply called his blade to materialize, but now using his angelic powers was entirely unfeasible. It was the first time since he'd left Heaven that he'd been called upon to fight, and he didn't know how.
Another match passed, and 'Loki' was called to fight the smarmy rich god. Said smarmy rich god pulled a smarmy expensive sword out and dipped into a fighting stance, and Gabriel nearly moaned at the unfairness. Simply from the way he held his weapon, Gabriel could tell that the suitor was an unskilled swordsman, but it didn't take much talent to stab someone who had no blade.
“You intend to fight unarmed, Loki?” Imalay called from his comfortable chair. The crowd rumbled and Gabriel heard laughter and bets being made against his life. He tried to look unworried as he shrugged and smiled, but he wasn't sure he managed to sell it. “I've got my wits; that's all I really need.”
More laughter, even a chuckle from his adversary. His sword dipped as he laughed, and Gabriel cursed the Fates (he was sure it was their fault; those gals really didn't like him) at the missed opportunity.
Something fell at his feet. Gabriel blinked, then picked up a woman's painted fan from the dust. He flipped it open and marveled at the incredibly detailed pattern of flames in every color. As the crowd whispered, he looked at Premadasi, who watched him with a blank expression and smoldering eyes. Gabriel clutched the fan tighter.
Imalay laughed. “My daughter has chosen her favorite! We shall learn if the gift of a woman can protect a man!”
Premadasi's expression tightened in anger. It would have gone unnoticed unless he'd been looking right at her, but the lack of reaction from the crowd made it clear that no one else was looking at her face. A well of rage sprung in Gabriel's chest and he swore, silently, that Premadasi's gift would be enough.
The king called for them to begin, and Gabriel immediately dodged a shaky blow from the god. The long claws on his feet cause him to stumble, and Gabriel sidestepped, thinking fast. The fan was a foot long, not giving him much reach, but with the way his opponent left his guard down, he might not need much. The next time the other god swung at him, Gabriel ducked, then stepped close and lashed out with the open fan. The bamboo folds were sharp on the edges and he opened a gash across the god's chest, staining his bright, expensive clothes. As the god winced, Gabriel danced out of range of the blade.
The god grimaced as deep brown blood spread through the soft fabric and growled at Gabriel. He lunged forward again, a jab, this time, but he was slow, and Gabriel sidestepped easily, raising another thin cut with a flick of the fan. Surprised by the pain, the god lunged. He feinted with the sword, then swung a clumsy fist. Gabriel moved with the blow, allowing it to tumble him toward the sword. He ducked just as the god tried to stab him at an awkward angle and grabbed the sword arm firmly at the wrist, then dance under the arm and twisted, hard. The sword clattered to the ground, the god's arm wrenched up his back, Premadasi's sharp fan at his throat. “Yield,” Gabriel whispered.
The god was breathing hard from even the short exertion, and he shouted that he gave up immediately. Gabriel scowled at the weakness. In Heaven, not a single angel would have been so clumsy, so careless a fighter, and none would surrender so easily. Angry, he shook the god by the wrist, forcing out a cry of pain.
“Give me your sword,” he demanded, and nearly got his nose broken as the god nodded frantically.
He shoved the god away, and he was quickly swallowed up the the jeers of the crowd. Gabriel picked up the sword and stabbed it through his pants, hardly caring for the fabric when he might need his hands free. The fan went much more carefully into the flowing folds of his light silk shirt. He turned to the host's table and folded his hands in front of him in the strange formation he had seen from the past two winners, then bowed. As he stood back up, raising his eyes from the ground, he made sure to look at Premadasi first, and give a slight bow of the head just to her. He was rewarded with the slight flicker of an eyebrow, and he smiled.
Gabriel's next fight was easy. With his new sword, he defeated his opponent in under a minute, although this god was by far a better competitor than the first. By this time he had acquired a devoted group of fans from the crowd, who chanted his name and offered him fruit and wine to replenish his strength. Gabriel had no need for sustenance, and even though he usually faked a sweet tooth, just to seem more normal, the only thing he desired was to look into Premadasi's eyes every second that he wasn't fighting. The goddess returned his gaze, dark eyes shining bright as grace, and Gabriel felt like he was falling as he stood still. It was like the universe had shifted, and instead of the pull on his grace toward Heaven and the pull on his vessel toward the Earth, every part of him was pulled instead to the pool of flames at the core of Premadasi.
His last adversary was clearly a gifted fighter, competing with a staff sharpened on both ends rather than a sword, but Gabriel was an archangel of Heaven. As Imalay called a start to the match and the fighters began to circle each other, testing for weak spots in the other's defense, Gabriel was confident in his ability to win the final test. His blade swirled and flicked out, creating nicks in his opponent's thick wooden staff. He was gaining ground, forcing the other fighter back, when the demigod swirled in place, and his true form was revealed.
Any mortal looking upon the scene would have been struck dumb, but while the demigod's true form was complex and intimidating, Gabriel had sparred with the brightest, most beautiful grace in Heaven. He charged fearlessly, but was quickly overcome by the sheer size of his opponent.
As he was crushed into the ground and held firm, Gabriel heard the cheers of the crowd. He was unable to move while the winner roared and preened to the spectators. Finally, he was let up, and he healed his vessel’s crush wounds subtly while dusting off his clothes.
Imalay began to announce the winner, but Gabriel had eyes only for Premadasi. She was nearly expressionless, but for the despair in her gaze as she looked upon her husband-to-be, who was basking in the accolades of the crowd and had yet even to bow to her.
Gabriel stepped forward. “I demand a rematch!”
The king stopped talking; Gabriel had interrupted him. Shouts of rage erupted from the crowd, and the king turned red. “You have no right!”
“I cannot fight in my true form,” Gabriel lied, planning wildly. “I made a vow to my king that my true form would be used only for peace. I demand a fair fight. If Fate is with me, let me win by the dice!”
The god who had beat Gabriel, now returned to his casual form, turned to face him with a glint in his eye, and Gabriel knew he had him.
“I accept the challenge!” his opponent cried. “If I lose, the woman is yours.”
“But if you lose,” Imalay said to Gabriel, “you will be a slave for twelve years. That is an even trade for a woman's life.”
Gabriel shivered, whether from anger or fear he couldn't tell. “I accept these terms.”
A servant brought two cups of dice, and Gabriel's opponent grabbed his. “We shall play Gates of Paradise!” he proclaimed, and Gabriel just knew that, wherever they were, the Fates must have changed their minds about him. He had no idea how to play this game, but he knew he would win.
Somehow.
The game, apparently, required three rolls of the dice from each player. It took Gabriel the first two rolls from each of them before he figured out how to win, and by then he was deep in the hole. The only way to win would be by an extreme show of luck.
Or, perhaps, some interference.
Gabriel hadn't exactly figured out how to use his Trickster powers quite yet. The real Loki, who'd thought it would be a fantastic prank to help Gabriel take his place when he moved to western Africa, had shown him how to use godly power, but it was hard to adapt to the wellspring of Earth-based power when he was so used to reaching for grace. If he used his grace, however, it would be as good as a smoke signal to show Michael and Raphael where he was.
Gabriel's opponent threw the dice, and he reached out with his trickster power, silently praying. He pushed the dice just right.
The dice rolled to a stop on the lowest possible score, and their audience, on tenterhooks for the last set of throws, groaned or shouted with joy, depending on who they were betting on. Gabriel's opponent threw his cup to the ground in disgust.
Still, the only way to win was with an exceptional throw, and the trickster magic was slipping away from his grasp. Suddenly, his vessel's palms were sweating and its heart was racing, and Gabriel realized that he'd brought himself too close to the surface. If he tried to use the godly power again, his true form would undoubtedly be pulled close enough to the Earth as to be visible from Heaven.
There was no way to win.
He looked at Premadasi in despair, and she returned his gaze with utter confidence. Her strength bolstered him, and he threw the dice without looking away from her. He watched in stillness as she looked at the ground before him, and a radiant smile spread across her face.
His opponent howled, the king shouted the results, the crowd roared, but Gabriel walked up to the host table, knelt beside Premadasi's chair and took her hand. He kissed her fingertips without looking away from her eyes, which seemed to burn right to the core of his grace.
Premadasi's father was still speaking, but Gabriel didn't care what that undeserving bastard had to say. He spread his wings, which he'd learned no one who'd never touched the Heavenly plane could feel, and swept them away.
When they appeared in a living room in Gabriel's interdimensional mansion, however, Premadasi pulled away from him. Suddenly, her dress was on fire, and she shrieked at him, “You are--
“It's bedtime.”
“...what?... No, Daddy...”
“I'm not tired! This story is so cool!”
“Come on cupcake, it's not that-- oh. Okay, your Daddy's right munchkins, it's nearly midnight. Under the covers, there you go.”
“But Daddy!”
“Maybe Daddy will finish the story tomorrow night, but right now it's time for sleep.”
“I don't wahhhhnna...”
“That was a mighty yawn for someone who's not tired! Get some rest pumpkin. We love you both.”
“Love you too Daddy.”
“...”
“She's out like a light.”
“...”
“...”
“You realize you cut me off just as the damsel in distress gets to speak for the first time in the story. I thought you called yourself a feminist.”
“And I thought you called me by some mangled version of my name. You're going with cupcake now, really?”
“I tried to think of something I love more than you, but I couldn't. Cupcakes come pretty close, though.”
“...Color me so impressed. Anyway, I stopped you because I sensed that the upcoming scene was probably rated a bit too high for our kids.”
“Aww, your doubt wounds me. I'd have censored.”
“Well I want to hear the full version. That story... it's real, isn't it? And the goddess, that's...”
“Yeah.”
“...You don't have to tell me. You know. But... I'd like to hear about her.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Premadasi yanked herself away from Gabriel and was suddenly ablaze. “You are not a god!” she cried, and her true voice was a thousand bonfires, an explosion of heat. “What are you?”
It took a quick manipulation of the mixture of grace and Trickster magic that kept the mansion existing to make sure nothing was burnt by Premadasi’s godly fire. And that’s totally why Gabriel’s intelligent answer was “Whaaat?”
“That was not teleportation, that was--” her eyes jumped around the room anxiously and her fire pulled tight and intense against her skin. “That was something else. What are you?”
Her burning feet started to singe the carpet, and Gabriel couldn’t keep their setting secure with Premadasi’s magic interfering. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. Can you avoid burning down my house, please?” He glanced nervously at the ceiling, which was starting to show scorch marks as well.
Premadasi glared at him in suspicion, but her expression cleared to surprise. “We are not on an Earthly plane, nor a godly one. Where have you taken me?”
Gabriel sighed. “If you turn down the heat, I’ll explain.”
The goddess’s already familiar expressionless mask hid whatever calculations she made in the next few moments, but eventually the flames were sucked into her skin, until only a wisp of smoke hung in the air.
Relieved, Gabriel plopped down on a lounge chair covered with soft Egyptian cushions. He’d created this room based on the meeting rooms of some Egyptian deities he’d met, and had maybe stolen a few things as he skedaddled from that part of the world. That meant the succulent wine he pulled from beneath the seat was the real deal, and thankfully alcoholic enough to relax his vessel. He took a swift chug, not bothering to savor, and was grateful Premadasi didn’t set him on fire while he wasn’t watching her.
In fact, when he looked up, she was kneeling beside his lounge chair instead of sitting on the other across from it. “No, no,” he said quickly. “I-- Premadasi, please sit. Have some wine.”
She stared at him, emotions hidden once again. “I don’t know how wives act where you are from, but I will not shirk my duties.”
“I don’t want to marry you,” he blurted.
More mistakes, more excuses. Gabriel had really had enough of people kneeling to him. It got old fast once obedience based on love became obedience for its own sake, and it was pretty obvious which was going on at that moment. Maybe, though he wouldn’t even think it consciously for a few hundred years, he’d had enough of beautiful, bright people being thrown away by uncaring fathers.
In that moment, however, he was despairing and tired and didn’t think, and didn’t notice the light in Premadasi’s eyes go out. “What do you intend to do with me?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. He was busy thinking that he couldn’t even whisk the dust from his fights off his clothes, because his grace was what had set her off last time. “You can do whatever you like.”
“You will not have me?”
Up to that point, her voice had been strong, passionate, vivacious. Now it was dead. He finally looked up, then slipped off the lounge and fell to his knees beside her, tipped up her face away from the ground. Her skin was cold and clammy, and no spark danced in her eyes.
“No one will take me if you reject me. My father will not acknowledge me. I will be cast away.” Her head leaned into his hand. “Loki… you won me.”
“And you accept that?” Gabriel shook his head. “That’s not the goddess I’ve seen.”
“I act rashly,” Premadasi said, leaning back on her heels away from him. “But I would be a good wife,” she promised. “That’s what my father named me: servant of love. It’s what I am.”
Gabriel scowled. “Let me tell you something I’ve learned. Going along with what you’ve been made to be? It’s not going to make you happy. It’s not going to make anyone proud of you. It’s just going to make you wish you’d had the strength to make a different choice.”
She watched him, and he could tell she was thinking about his words. But she didn’t move. Gabriel hesitated. “I didn’t plan to enter your father’s competition, you know. But I saw you dancing, and I knew you were brave… braver than me. I knew that if you had the chance, you could be… incredible. I would marry you,” Gabriel said, surprising himself with the longing in his own voice, “but you deserve to make something of yourself. I’d just hold you back.”
For a long time, she stared at him, and Gabriel felt like his grace was stripped of its protective vessel under her intelligent gaze. Finally, she relaxed subtly, and there was that heat under her skin, there was the sharp wit he’d sensed in the curve of her lip. “You never told me what you are.”
Gabriel smiled. “I am what I want to be. That’s all you’re going to get.”
Her eyes glinted, and then her lips were pressed against his, and a sweet heat spread throughout him from that point, tingling in the space between his vessel and his grace. “If that’s all I’m going to get… I should go look for more.”
He opened his eyes despite the rush of hot air, but she was gone.
"...Sorry. I was expecting something happier.”
“Well, she appeared in my bedroom out of nowhere a few decades later, fucked my brains out, told me her new name was Kali, and vanished again. I’d say it turned out pretty well.”
“...”
“If you keep laughing you’re gonna wake the girls.”
“Okay, okay… Sorry. Stop pouting.”
“...”
“Very mature. Hey… You never actually got married, did you?”
“Actually, yeah, we did. Few centuries later. Her idea, that time. Not that I took much convincing… She was pretty popular around then, and Scandinavia wasn’t doing so hot, so the other Norse gods accepted her, even though she nearly burnt down some of their ice palaces when she visited. Worth it for the influx of power from human worshipers.”
“Wow.”
“Do I tell a good story or what?”
“You do. And Gabriel… thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. Good night, Sam.”
“Good night.”
“...”
“...”
"Shhh!"
"You shhh!"
“They’re listening the door, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they are.”
“I blame your genes.”