Chapter Text
Loki wasn't entirely surprised to find himself awake moments after dying in his previous life. Awake, surely, as his eyes continue to move around unfamiliar surroundings and his body presses firmly into damp grass. Despite that he had died viciously and messy, he finds that his fingers move as they should and his regular scars he had were still present on his pale skin, his hand visible in front of his face and flexing. He looks at it, glares at the freckles as if it will disappear and he will be one with the universe once again. But it doesn't, the muscles follow his commands and his fingers twitch in uncertainty.
His mind is dazed, he feels like he's on the highest mountain sucking in thin air. His mind doesn't comprehend simple thoughts and his eyes look around unseeing, he doesn't notice how his hands tremble unbearably fast and his feet are numb. He threads his fingers through his short hair as a nervous tic, and place his palms firmly on the ground in attempt to steady them. His brown eyes are blown wide, some adrenaline rush coursing through his veins, his equally brown hair stands wildly in different directions and his body is stiff when he tries to sit up. The air is clear and chilly when he breathes in, and something about it is unexpectedly similar to being alive.
Being a believer in the afterlife is common on Earth, it's hard not to expect something or another. He doesn't worship one true religion, but there has to be something at least, a booming voice in nothingness or the universe itself, letting him rest among the stars. But as he looks around there is nothing resembling a godly figure. It's all wood and rock, the trees are mostly pine and stand tall, reaching towards blue skies, and while the picture is a serene one, it's nothing like the death he would've imagined.
Because he has to be dead. He remembers feeling his heart stutter after being totaled by a semi-truck. He had to have died on impact, smeared across the front of the truck like a bug on a windshield, even when everything around him suggests otherwise. It suggests life; crooked branches reaching out towards him, thriving green grass under his feet and the hum of nature. Cicadas sing against tree bark and birds chatter high up in the sky. Squirrels and other critters rustle in the brush and the winds holler around him, swaying the leaves and tousling his already unkept hair. Everything is so alive as if mankind has never touched it.
Loki's always been slow to accept things, especially change, and in a bizarre manner, he knows he's not returning to the life he knew. Whether he's dead or not, he doesn't know, but he can feel it in the air and deep within his bones that this grass, this surrounding, is something else entirely.
He thinks about his family, his mother and father, and how he never got the chance to rekindle with his older sister who unexpectedly broke off their relationship. He remembers his dog, his beloved cat that he left. The man he grew to slowly love, who made him feel safe and understood. The few friends he had, everything as important as his love for his family to the love for his bed when he's especially tired. It's gone, isn't it? Everything, everyone?
Before he knows it, he's choking on a sob. It comes up from his throat and out his mouth that is now wet with tears, tears that come easily and blur his sight. His body curls into itself as it shakes and hiccups, ragged breaths coming out desperate and his hands tighten around his clothing. There's no mothering touch, nothing but the winds that try to console him, and it's an easy thing, to be in the middle of the woods and cry. He hasn't had a good long cry in a while, not even when he was alive and struggling with his identity. Everything from the past month, year, comes up along with the new idea that he's dead and can't go back.
Loki doesn't know how long it's been when his sobs finally subdue. His breathing returns to its natural state and his heartbeat slows. He opens his eyes again, looking into the sky that has begun to turn darker, blinking away the last of his tears. Night is falling, he realizes, and he doesn't know what to do. He feels the swell of emotions coming up again, his heart is heavy, but he shakes it away quickly, trying to get ahold of himself once again. If he truly is in the middle of no where, he needs a plan.
His mind is clear at least, as clear as the nightly air surrounding him, as he picks himself up off the ground with buzzing legs. Either he hasn't purely been in the middle of the woods for a while, but there's something dangerously mystical about everything. The unknown scares him but enlightens him all the same, but he can't help but feel a spark of fear as the sun sets. He looks around and exhales deeply, his knowledge about camping and the wilderness filtering through his mind, and decides he should at least get some new light. Loki begins searching the ground for twigs, feeling refreshed after his cry but still with a nervous energy. Bugs chirp and he occasionally sees the ones that light up, flittering around his head as the nocturnal animals awaken.
Upon getting fallen branches and rocks for an attempt to make a fire, there's a stirring to his left that catches his attention. Loki pauses, his movement and breath going quiet, anxiety bubbling in his chest at the first possibility of danger. His hands tighten around the bundles of sticks, hurting his palm, but he ignores it, continuing to stare out in between trees, but there is nothing but darkness as the pale moon rises. He's never felt like such a scared lost boy before.
The leaves begin to rustle again, and suddenly there's two eyes looking at him. Two very large eyes, with pupils thin and unwavering as they stare into Loki's soul, so powerful he doesn't manage to cover a gasp. The animal does not move at the action despite a slow blink, and it reminds him extremely of his cat he left behind, and he finds he isn't exactly scared of the animal because of the similarities. The eyes blink again, huge and a light yellow-green, and they start to come closer. He can hear it's footsteps in the leaves but there's no evidence of a body yet, it must be a dark color to blend in so well, and it must be big if the eyes are that size.
Loki is surprised that he has no reaction to be afraid, even when there's a very large and unknown animal in front of him. Even that fact scares him a bit, but not enough to overthink and loose his focus on the creature, who still stalks toward him in a slow manner. Slow and steady, it feels like forever until there's a paw in the moonlight.
The paw is big and laced with sharp but short talons, black scales variating sizes covering the whole of the leg. As it comes closer, the leg turns into a torso, which gradually shows a head and the rest of the long body.
The animal is lean and lanky, it's body converting into a huge tail that ends with fins along the edges, bigger scales and sharp ridges on the topside of the tail that swish fluidly when it sways. Up the body there's an arched back that supports two wings. They connect to the body with visibly strong muscle around the shoulder joint, splaying into a massive amount of leathery skin that attaches to the thin fingers of the wing. They stretch outward beside the body but not to their full extent; they're folded in certain places but enough to recognize that when they are all the way opened, they would be twice the animal's size.
Then there's the head, flat and with the eyes still baring on Loki.
Loki stands shaking. There is no doubt in his mind that upon him is a dragon, a big creature that's head is the size of Loki's chest with gnarly teeth and a nose that hasn't stopped sniffing since being uncovered. It's mouth is ajar and he can't help but notice everything about it, the fangs and the way saliva strings hang off it's maw. It's head is flat like a salamander besides scales and ridges, but unknown appendages stalk off the back of its head like ears stranding upright. The appendages twitch at any noise and flick away bugs.
Not only is there a dragon, real and breathing the same air as him, but Loki immediately notices that it's a very familiar type of dragon from a franchise he longed for as a kid. A Night Fury, from an imaginative movie series. He doesn't know what to think so he doesn't think at all, his breathing becoming ragged as the Night Fury and him maintain eye contact.
"Loki.” His name filters through his mind, the voice ragged and muddled like it's through an old television set, and he flinches at the sudden noise, dropping his branches. It's an odd voice, rather than through his eardrums he can hear it through his head, and he's not quite sure what to do with this information. Regardless he looks around wildly as if this telepathic voice is physical, but only finds himself and the dragon, who has not reacted to Loki being scared besides its ear appendages flicking.
“Loki."The voice says again, clearer and with a certain strength behind it. The boy continues to look around but his eyes always end up on the Night Fury, and something in his mind clicks when they lock eyes again.
"Yes. You understand." Loki wants to immediately disagree, he does not know what is happening here, he hasn't even begun to realize where he is. But when he looks at the dragon, there's is no fear, not like the anxiety he's lived with all his life and had to learn to control or take medication for. Whether he still doesn't believe that this is real and therefore doesn't have fear towards it, or he's in shock, or this is absolutely real and his fear is nonexistent, he looks upon the creature and finds himself safe. Safe is a strong word, but he is not overwhelmed nor on the brink of a panic attack. And he feels... something indescribable, like seeing an old friend again.
And if he believes if or not, this dragon is communicating with him telepathically.
"Good." It says, throaty and raw. Then the dragon moves, stepping around Loki in a wide circle to give him space, and promptly walks away from the boy and farther into the small clearing of grass. “Follow, and bring those branches."
Loki, upon not exactly having a choice and with too many questions, does what the dragon asks of him. He picks up the sticks with fumbling hands and rushes toward the Night Fury so it doesn't disappear into the darkness again, stopping just short of running into its backside. Loki watches as it digs away grass and leaves from the forest floor, making a small bowl of dirt in the ground. There's no time to react when the dragon takes the branches from Loki's arms with its mouth, startling the boy and making him freeze up, but the beast ignores him and puts the twigs in the dirt.
“Stand back." The dragon speaks again, making Loki unfreeze. He does as instructed, always good with orders, and steps away from the bowl of dirt and wood.
"Prepare yourself." And he doesn't know what the beast is talking about until a burst of light hits his eyes. He shields his face with his arm, hearing the crackle of fire and plasma and feels the warmth heavily on his skin. He steps back when the warmth dies down, not a scorching heat anymore, and removes his arm to see a perfect campfire in its wake. The fire is big and reaches towards the sky, but with the grass cleared away it stays in place. With the new light and warmth, the boy takes a minute to relax and drop his tense shoulders, but his eyes automatically pull back towards the dragon once again, who stares equally at Loki.
He doesn't know what takes over him when he says, "Thank you." The dragon looks almost as surprised as himself, but recovers quickly and bows his head in welcome.
“You have questions." It's not a question, but Loki finds himself nodding nonetheless. "Sit."
He looks around the ground and takes a spot relatively close to the fire, suddenly feeling the cold of night, across from the Night Fury. It respects his space and lays down on the opposite side, it's tail curling around it's body like a cat with its front legs crossed in the front. Loki takes the pause to admire the creature through the fire, it's majestic figure and dark black, almost blue scales and spots. It reminds him of a black panther with hidden markings.
It's surprisingly easy to feel comfortable around the dragon, not like he is with other big animals like horses or cows, and finds himself enjoying studying it. Like another human, Loki feels the urge to engage with it, but finds himself stopping when he realizes what he's thinking. He should be scared, terrified, but he's not, and he's not sure what to think about that.
Loki waits until the dragon speaks first, which is an odd thing of itself, and it takes the hint.
“Welcome to the Barbaric Archipelago, Loki." Loki sucks in a breath, his shoulders tensing up again at the truth. He is in the How To Train Your Dragon universe, an old civilization that has yet to advance even into castles and barricades, with nothing but the clothes on his back and limited knowledge of survival. How and why he's here, he doesn't know, but the ground is solid under his feet and the air chills his bones. The winds whisper around him, so fresh that he believes everything this dragon has said, who sits against the fire like a black shadow. It's (his? The voice is definitely masculine) eyes are still a dull yellow, reminding Loki of the autumn leaves that speckle the trees, that watches him steadily.
“You arrived after you died in your previous life, your soul taken into your astral form and putting it into this new reconstructed body. While this body looks the same as your previous one, it will stand up to more extreme levels. It'll heal quicker than a mortal will and you'll find it to be more comfortable when defending yourself." Loki's eyes go wide at that. While his knowledge of the movie franchise is vast and there are plenty dangers of this world, he could never imagine himself fighting hand-to-hand combat, not even defending himself from something. It's something he'd never had to do in his previous life, and he'll admit, he was horrible in gym class from school. He can't imagine that changing. Still, the beast is confident after the statement, and Loki stays quiet, he's always so quiet, until the dragon begins speaking again.
“It wasn't a coincidence that you named yourself after the Norse God, either. Before you arrived, he instructed me to help you along in this word. He has asked me— one of the last of my kind— to give you what you deserve; a chance to be yourself. You are his creation, his child, he will do what he must to let his son be happy. That means I am your guide, your familiar in this world, and will protect you from any harm that may come. You've noticed our telepathic link; that is one of the perks of being soul bonded."
Loki sits quietly during the dragon's speech, his knees tucked into his chest tightly to lock in any warmth. His eyes are distant, suddenly exhausted from crying earlier and with the shock of discovering a dragon and what the dragon has said. He can't bring himself to be surprised—or angry—that a literal God has been watching him his whole life. He's just tired of everything and everyone, but if what this dragon says is true and the God does want to help him... he will take that chance. His emotions have been tossed aside for too long now, by himself or others, so he figures this is as good as a fresh start as any to start anew. This is what he's been waiting for, is it not? To give himself a chance, to find the confidence and motivation to be creative and change his life for the better.
The Night Fury waits, cleaning his paws with his flat tongue as the boy before him thinks. The dragon cannot imagine hearing this in one sitting, especially by someone and somewhere so foreign to you, but he must congratulate the boy for not breaking down again like earlier. The dragon is old, living many lifetimes, and nothing this great has ever happened. He can understand what Loki is feeling to a degree, but he also knows they both should be thankful for this opportunity. The boy will come to accept it in time, and getting there will be tough, but they can handle it. They have to, a child of Loki is a special thing.
The dragon has grown old with tales of Loki, Thor, Odin, and Jokul Frosti, and has long since accepted their traditions and stories. He knows to a foreigner, like any tradition, that this must seem odd and perhaps insane to certain eyes. But as the child of Loki, this boy will learn, he must.
“So, my child, I am Fenrir of the Night Furies." The dragon finally introduces himself, but Loki doesn't seem to care. Huddled on the ground, he watches the fire embers and how it flickers around in the chilly air, warm light cast on his freckled face. His hair bends awkwardly over his forehead and his ears, his nose sniffling at the new forest smells and pollen, completely ignoring everything else.
The dragon, Fenrir, looks at Loki in worried confusion, not expecting such a nonchalant reaction. A low murmur comes deep within his throat, the noise so animalistic that Loki's eyes meets his once again, brown colliding with yellow, that Loki is reminded that this is still a beast. Fenrir stands up, his body graceful and huge as Loki continues to sit, and gazes as the dragon walks around the fire and into Loki's space. When the boy doesn't move, Fenrir curls around him, Loki's back flat against his belly. Loki freezes at the physical touch, but can't find himself to care. Whether he knows through their soul bond or just has a good intuition, Fenrir seems to know what Loki needs in that moment. He feels warmer already with the dragon behind him.
Unfurling his hand from a fist, the boy carefully reaches out towards the dragon. Even with their conversations, everything else about the creature is so deadly that Loki has a hard time accepting that Fenrir won't hurt him, like he had said. And he doesn't, just waits for the boy's hand to touch gently on his thick neck. When it does, he suppresses a shudder, not used to being touched so freely in a long time. Loki is suddenly fascinated, petting the dragon with soft pale hands along the neck, reaching higher towards Fenrir's head. The Night Fury looks like something right out of a dream that when Loki touches hard scales it'a surreal to believe it.
Fenrir watches out of the corner of his eyes at the small wide eyed boy, no matter that he is already 18 summers old. He's already heard so much about Loki that he finds it's easy to accept him as his own, that the bond they share is easily stronger and more heavy on Fenrir's side. Even if he was instructed not to harm Loki, he couldn't find himself to regardless, he's still just a small human with too many worries.
Fenrir begins to purr, a deep sound that Loki can feel straight away. It startles him at first, but his eyes tear up at the thought of his cat he had left and begins petting the dragon again.
"So am I truly dead?" Loki whispers, but it's enough. Fenrir's purrs falter for a moment before starting up again, not used to such a delicate situation, a delicate boy who needs comfort.
"Yes."
Loki's lips wobble as he holds back another burst of emotion. His teeth sink into his cheek and his eyes water anyways, thinking of his friends and family. A ruffle of wings frighten him, one of Fenrir's wings outstanding only to wrap around the small boy's frame in a cocoon of skin and body heat. It's an easily sort of thing to accept the blatant action of affection from the Night Fury, as if they've been friends for a long time before this.
Loki doesn't know how long it is until he calms down again, the noises of dragon purring, the winds, and the Earth calming him into a state of sleep. As his mind begins to muddle, his body sagging against Fenrir, he speaks one more question that keeps nagging as his conscious;
"You said the Barbaric Archipelago, so Hiccup is here?" Fenrir takes a quick moment to think over his answer, not wanting to upset the human boy any farther.
“Not on this island, but yes, he's alive and has just defeated the Red Death. Berk is currently undergoing big but necessary changes, and we will visit them soon."
Loki sniffs. "Okay."
"Now rest, you've had a big day, child." Loki nods his head in agreement before settling down comfortably on the grass and under the dragon's wing. After Fenrir enflames the fire further so it'll go through the night, he looks around and rests his head on the ground also, eyes staying open until he hears the gentle breath of his boy sleeping. Only then does he sleep too.