Chapter Text
We begin our story in the Kingdom of Asgard. It was plagued with a depression; one brought about the new Queen’s infertility. The royal couple’s sadness had radiated throughout the land, seemingly making everything darker. No light shone through the endless shade until one early autumn morning, as the leaves fell from the trees in a rain of golden brown and rusty red, when the King and Queen stepped out onto the balcony, hand entwined. The couple’s excitement was almost palpable as the public waited for whatever announcement they were about to make. The King’s familiars, two ravens of the names Huginn and Muninn, were also visibly excited – or as excited as ravens could get; they kept shifting their weight as they stayed close to their master, the intimacy calming them. The Queen’s own familiar was in a similar state. The hare, dubbed Sigyn, nuzzled her ankle, grounding the both of them. The crowd itself bustled with activity, only quieting when the King opened his mouth to speak.
“People of Asgard,” he began, his voice layered with emotion, “you have remained loyal to the throne for many years, and, yet, you have managed to maintain an inspirational optimism as we experienced the worst hurdle of my rule, beginning almost five years ago.” The King took a deep breath and stood a little taller. “My wife and I have gathered you all here today to announce that the Gods have blessed us for our patience and resilience.” The crowd began to murmur as the King once again paused. “My wife is with child!” He said it with such a pride that the people below cheered instantly, sharing the emotions of their monarchs. They would soon have a prince or princess! It was a blessing. The fates surely looked upon them.
Sure enough, in the middle of the summer season, the Queen gave birth to a boy with blue eyes that contained the spirit of the storm. It was because of this, that his parents gave him the name Thor.
However, the birthing process had been taxing on the Queen’s strength. Her health waned and it seemed that her life began to fade; she became pale, and sweat lined her body like a second skin. The King wept by her bedside at night after he tended to their son. Everyone who knew of her ailment prayed for her health.
It was fortunate, perhaps, when a man by the name of Alexander Pierce approached the Palace, claiming to be a special healer. He was an unassuming man, with fair hair and blue eyes and a sympathetic smile. In his desperate state, the King accepted the help of this stranger, unwittingly giving the man access to every corner of the Palace. If the King was in his right mind, he would have been wary of the stranger’s familiar – a golden lion tamarin with cruel eyes and a tight grip.
Pierce seemed to do as he promised. Less than a week after he used his foreign medicine to heal the Queen, she was all but perfectly healthy again. As a reward, the King appointed Pierce a place on his council. In time, he became the Royal Advisor and the King’s most trusted ally. By the time the second prince was born he had fully integrated himself into the lives of the Royal Family, becoming so important to them that he was entrusted with the education of Prince Thor, (despite how disillusioned the three-year old had become with the written word).
When the youngest prince, and the hero of our story, Steven, had begun his own learning, the differences between the two boys had become more apparent. Whilst they shared the same fair hair and blue eyes as their sire, Prince Thor was more physically inclined than Prince Steven, for the birth of the young royal had been even more difficult for the Queen than the first. She had gone into premature labour, causing hysteria amongst the servants and creating complications for her child. The excruciating birth almost destroyed her womb, leaving her without the ability to carry a child. This early birth also spawned a weakness in the baby; he had bones so brittle, many speculated that they were as hollow as the bones of a bird. The physical contrast between the boys bled out into their interests, plainly seen in the progress of their education. Prince Thor focused his efforts into emulating his father, who he admired as a great warrior. His younger brother compensated for his lack of physical strength by excelling in his studies and, though he enjoyed learning, he devoted much of his energy to his art. The King and Queen, despite these differences, loved them both equally.
However, on the eve of Prince Steven’s second name day. A dishevelled Alexander Pierce sought the help of the Queen. He rushed to her for aid, a small bundle cradled in his arms, darting through the corridors of the Palace soundlessly in an attempt to remain unnoticed. His familiar clutched onto his shoulder, peering down at the object with an expression of distain. Pierce hurried his footstep. The golden lion tamarin jumped suddenly from his shoulder and contorted in the air, its body shifted and twisting until its form was no longer that of an animal, but of a human. He was a short person, his fairly stumpy legs trying hard to keep up with his master. He had a round face and a pointed nose and looked every bit as malicious as his animal form.
“Why are we letting the creature live, master?” He asked, his voice accented and nasally. “It should have died with its mother. It would be a blessing to cut its throat.”
“Be quiet, Zola.” Pierce looked at the short man with disgust gleaming in his eyes. It is clear that he would have struck him if not for the object in his arms. “We need him. He is our opportunity to control the throne.” He replied coldly. “You know as well as I that the Queen wishes dearly to have another child. She will not object to the inclusion of this one into her family. Even if she would hold reservations, she will not be able to deny the child’s right to a family once she looks at him.”
“I just don’t understand how this little swine can ensure our ascension to sovereignty. He will be the youngest of them all; he would not be equal in neither responsibility nor power. We should have just killed him when we had the chance.” Pierce stopped instantly. He turned to face Zola with an expression that promised pain. The familiar squawked in fear and jumped back, his mode of protection being to shift back into his red-haired simian form.
“Le Fay knew what she was doing when she kept the child. We must trust in the fate she had chosen for him. She meant for the boy to be the foot hold into controlling the throne.” The foreigner said menacingly. “The boy is also of my blood. That, in itself, makes him capable of anything. As long as we maintain control of him.”
Pierce’s predictions were correct; the Queen had taken a single look at the baby’s emerald eyes and she saw in him what she could no longer have – another child. The baby had soft, cold skin that was as pale as the snow that fell upon Asgard every winter, his hair was as black as obsidian and was both smooth and soft, like the feathers of a groomed raven, and his eyes were like green crystals and they seemed to light up in joy when the Queen took hold of his tiny fist that he offered up to her. He squealed happily, causing the mother to smile down at him. Her husband, also, appeared to find the small child endearing and agreed to house the child.
“We shall take him in and raise him as an Odinson.” The King declared to his wife and friend. “He shall have all that he desires and his brothers shall love him as they do each other.” And they smiled.
The Royal Couple waited almost a month after their second son’s name-day to announce the arrival of their new family member. They wished for their people to believe that their youngest son, named Loki, to be of their blood. They blamed the inheritance of his dark hair and eyes on Odin’s mother, Bestla and the people did not question it for they remembered the old Queen’s strength and beauty. The two Princes’ were also excited about the arrival of their new brother; for Thor, he was different. Since Loki was seemingly the opposite to his brothers in terms of his appearance, Thor became curious as to why he was different to Steven and himself. For Steven, he was someone to play with. The two year old may have enjoyed being read to, however, he was excited for the day he, himself, would be able to read to his new little brother.
The three boys became close within a few years. Prince Steven loved to spend time with his baby brother and play with him when their parents were busy and the elder was not occupied with his studies. Prince Thor would love to show his growing skill in combat to his brothers. Steven would praise him, though he was slightly jealous of him due to his small stature and the fact that he could barely lift a sword above his skinny waist. Loki would clap his chubby hands when Thor would turn and smile at him when he defeated an opponent. The small child loved the attention they gave him and became lonely quickly.
However, this began to change when the youngest prince began ‘specialised’ studies with Alexander Pierce. When the child was six years old, he started to show signs of magical ability. He was watching Thor and his friends spar when of them, the daughter of Captain Tyr, Sif, approached him, harbouring hostility in her eyes.
“Loki.” She called to him. “Why do you never join in?” To Thor and his companions it seemed like a harmless question, but to the young boy who had developed an affinity for reading people and sensing emotion, the mocking intention was written all over her face and body. She cocked her hip to the side, the movement too sharp to be a curious shift.
The dark haired boy looked at the girl, a frown on his face. “Whilst you may enjoy the senseless brutality of war, I prefer to spend my time immersed in my studies. It would not do well for Asgard if all of her inhabitants were morons.” He replied. However small his voice was, his point was clear and loud to Sif who immediately took offence.
“Morons?!”She shrieked. She took a threatening step towards him and he looked her right in her eyes. She gritted her teeth together and struck out suddenly.
Loki yelped as he fell back and he threw his arms out behind him to catch himself. Green smoke erupted from his fallen body and Sif was thrown from her place. She landed on her back, dazed and confused. What had happened? Sif was much stronger than Loki, so how had he managed to throw her back? The young boy was staring at his own hands, wandering about the very same thing.
The green smoke had dissipated only a little and had gathered around his legs to remain like a cloud. “W-what’s happening?” He stuttered, bewildered and a little afraid by the mist.
“Loki?” Thor had run up to his brother and friend once he had looked over to see Sif on her back and his brother with an expression of fear on his face. He tried to approach his brother who stepped back quickly in an attempt to keep him safe.
“Don’t come near me!” He said in a panicked tone. The smoke reacted to his emotions and struck out a little, as if trying to poke something that was in front of him. “It’ll hurt you.” He backed away even more, the smoke continuing to follow him.
“Loki, let me help you.” Thor asked gently, trying to convince his brother to accept his help in vain. The younger boy shook his head roughly and retracted his arms into his chest.
Thor was startled when something touched his shoulder softly, and he whipped his head round to see what it was; Alexander Pierce stood behind him, looking upon the scene with concern in his eyes. Thor wondered why he was there, when he saw the sheepish expression that his friend, Fandral wore. “Please, Sir Pierce, he didn’t mean to hurt Sif.” The prince pleaded.
Pierce smiled at Thor reassuringly. “Don’t worry, son. He’s not in trouble. In fact, he’s very special.” Loki, having heard his words, stared at him, hope causing his emerald eyes to glitter with a different kind of tear. “Come, Loki. We’ll get you sorted out.” He held his hand out to him.
“What if it hurts you?” His small voice asked.
“You know I’m not going to hurt you. This mist is a part of you, Loki. If you know I’m not a threat, your magic won’t harm me, or anyone else.” Hesitantly, Loki took the offered hand, his fingertips tingling when they made contact with the cold skin of his teacher.
Magic. Loki thought joyously. A jolt of excitement ran through him as he followed Pierce. The green mist trailed behind them, twisting and turning in the air as if dancing.
It was from that moment that Loki knew he was different to his brothers. Pierce helped him nurture and grow his magic until it was something powerful. When the youngest prince turned eleven, his magic became tangible, as it did for all warlocks of his age. In the shape of a magpie, with feathers that were so black they were envied by the darkness and contrasting white ones that made the sun weep in shame because they were so bright, Ikol was born. He became a precious friend to Loki, who had difficulty creating bonds with other people. These social skills had seemingly been divided between his brothers, who were adept at making people think that they were ‘so nice’ or ‘charming little things’.
That is not to say they were neither nice nor charming. Prince Thor always smiled at guests and servants, and Prince Steven always asked about the families of guests and thanked the servant with sincere concern and gratefulness. Everyone enjoyed spending time with the two elder princes because of their friendly and optimistic demeanours. In fact, on one day out to the market with their mother, the Princes Steven and Loki met a group of orphan boys that were instantly charmed by the elder’s soft smiles and curiosity. It had taken them a little longer to warm up to the younger boy, finding his more silent approach to be a little strange.
The group of boys that the two princes had met were very welcoming, if not for a little hesitance which was expected. They had taken Prince Steven’s bony arm and led him to their home; it was small and quaint and perfect in all the ways a home needed to be. It was too small for all of them to have a room each, but none of them seem to have cared. The walls had paintings on - though rudimentary since they were obviously painted by an amateur artist. There was a lovely couple who looked after the children. One was an older man, Chester Phillips, with a seemingly gruff exterior; however, he was a rather kind man once you peeled away the tough outside. The woman he worked with – his wife, who insisted on being called Maggie – was as sweet as cake. She loved to lather the boys with affection, making sure that all of their achievements were praised, no matter how small.
The boys themselves were full of smiles and cheer. Their group consisted of six boys, all between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. The eldest was James Dugan, who the other boys referred to as ‘Dum Dum’. He reminded Steven of his own elder brother, Thor, because of his teasing personality. He often made jokes at the expense of the other children, but it was never meant maliciously, which was easily recognised by the other boys who gave as good as they got. The second eldest was a boy named Montgomery Falsworth. He was the newest to the orphanage and was the most educated of the group. This meant he would help the other children with their studies and he did it well; he encouraged them with large smiles and tight hugs and he never lost his patience when one of the boys could not understand. He was helped by Gabriel Jones. This young boy of only fifteen had lived most of his life on the streets, his darker skin meaning that he had to survive much abuse from the less accepting of the kingdom. Eventually, he found a home with the Phillips’ and realised he had a gift for languages and he would spend much of his time speaking with another boy, Jacques Dernier, in the latter’s native language. Dernier was from a neighbouring kingdom and was adopted by the Phillips after his parents were killed in a random attack in an alleyway close-by. There was another boy with foreign heritage; Jim Morita. His parents were hunted down for being spies and their son was subsequently left behind.
However, none of the boys were as close to the princes as the orphan named James Barnes. He insisted on being called ‘Bucky’ since the only thing he could recall were his parents affectionately calling him that as a young child. These six orphaned children had become very dear to the second prince in the following years, and to Prince Loki, they were the only ones to give him a chance to be genuinely liked for who he was.
Too bad it wouldn't last.