In Norse polytheism, Thor is a god of thunder, storms, strength, fertility and the protection of mankind. A cheery god and friend to many, he is the husband of the warrior Sif and the son of the Allfather Odin. When Ragnarök comes he will slay the world serpent, yet take only nine steps before falling in turn.
In Norse polytheism, Odin is a god of knowledge, the runes and magic. He is the husband of Frigga and father of the favourite son Baldur, and is known by hundreds of names. He gave up his eye to drink from Mimir’s Well, his ravens Hugin and Munin bring him news from around the world, and he is the Allfather of gods.
"You let me fall apart without letting go, then you pick up the pieces and you make me whole."
Each day was painfully long, the hours never ending. You sit on the edge of the bed that you and Loki once shared, once being the key word. Now he is locked away in the white cells of the palace dungeon, and if the Allfather has his way he will rot there as well. You look at your hands, the nature rueful as you stare at the palms, and the lines that cross cross them. They are small, and delicate, the hands of nobility, the hands of a skilled sorceress.
The Trickster felt the whimper escape his throat as the Allfather suddenly stood before them. He had been in hiding with Charles for so long now, he had begun to forget about the constant threat of being returned to that hellish punishment. For three years now he had been living a life of solitude with his soulmate, a man he had come to love with all of his heart. A man that he felt safe with. A man that made him feel like he was truly at home.
And now it was all going to be taken from him. He was such a fool! He had lowered the wards without thinking, and almost instantly Odin had appeared in front of them. His voice boomed like thunder, rage emanating from him but Loki didn’t hear a single word of the exchange between Charles and Odin, he was cowering in the background, staring up at his once father with absolute terror in his eyes.
Because what was there that he could do? For all of his magic and strength, he was still no match for the king of the Nine Realms and his soldiers.
He didn’t want to go back there; he couldn’t go back there to those dungeons. He couldn’t leave Charles.
As he was paralyzed with fear of Odin, he didn’t notice Charles moving forward to try and defend him, to try and speak with him about the changed God. It wasn’t until he saw Odin prepared to strike that Loki finally moved. He was terrified of the powerful God, but he wouldn’t let Charles get hurt in his pursuit.
Without a second thought, he lunged forward and pushed Charles roughly out of the way, screaming in pain as something pierced his flesh and he fell to the ground. While he forced himself onto his hands and knees, one hand shot to cover the deep injury, quickly getting covered with the thick red liquid. But when he saw Odin moving once more to confront Charles for hiding the Trickster, Loki forced himself to his feet and moved once more in front of his soulmate. He would die before letting Odin lay a hand on the telepath.
His ears were still ringing and he couldn’t hear a word that either of the other men spoke, but he still managed to growl out, “I will not let you hurt him. Kill me and leave him be.”
The clouds were drifting along, one man stood alone on top of a hill, watching them go by in silence as he paid no attention to anything around him. The city lay below him, Achievement City to be precise. It was a beautiful sight but he had his eyes set on the blue sky above, the sun shining through the tree perched right above him.
He was there before them all, he was the one that created it all for them. The Allfather, the Primus as others call him. Though he may have a different perspective upon others now that he’s far more laid back, he has been this way the whole time. From beginning to end he would be the one to take care of them, to watch over them and to cause mischief and chaos when it is needed. He’s been there through ages of families growing older, moving on, spreading out and gaining in numbers. Silence was his primary choice of being till just recently.
Geoff Lazer Ramsey. His name would be remembered for decades and told within stories of the lone ‘hunter’ that helped a single family that grew into their little village and so on. Sure there were many stories of another but this one held strong with a simple name mention.
He doesn’t even remember most days that he’s done any of this, the drinking has dulled it down to merely nothing as he would shrug it off as if it never happened in the first place.
“Now that you’ve been caught in the act, you know what’s expected of you, My Prince,” a palace guard said solemnly. Behind him stood Odin, the Allfather of Asgard and Loki’s father. He stared at his son with a gaze full of coldness and detachment, a gaze that seemed to only fall upon the second son, never the first. Loki noticed this but he had never made mention of it. No one would believe him and if they did? What would it matter?
“You will be required to end the prisoner’s life, Loki. You have been sneaking down into the dungeons to see this woman, to share information and secrets with her. You’ve always been a mischievous one and you’ve a knack for getting yourself into fits of trouble here and there, but your mischief has never cause legitimate harm before. Now, unfortunately, it has, and there must be consequences. There needs to be action,” Odin said calmly, as if unaffected by the horror in his son’s eyes.
Loki, the Second Prince of Asgard, was no stranger to war, but he was also young and never participated in actual battle. He spent long days training with other warriors and his mother, learning both combat and magic, but he didn’t face enemy fire unless there was no other option.
Unfortunately for the young prince, his mischievous ways landed him in the royal dungeons, where criminals and prisoners of war were held. One such woman had caught his interest and, for months, he had snuck down to see her whenever he possibly could. She had become something of a friend to him, though she never mentioned her name. She claimed it didn’t matter, that her name held no meaning, and she would rather be nameless. Loki never understood but he also didn’t argue.
“I haven’t shared any information with her that could be harmful to Asgard or to myself,” Loki protested with a vibrant shake of his head. “Father, please, condemning her to die is utterly pointless. Why must she die when she holds no serious threat to anyone? She can do nothing while locked away in this cell!”
Odin stepped forward and pressed a blade into the protesting boy’s hand. Loki wasn’t actually a boy. He might have held the Midgardian equivalent of a sixteen or seventeen year old, but in actuality, he was hundreds of years old. Still, in the eyes of Aesir, he was a child and nothing more. He needed to learn and Odin, despite how cruel it may seem, would teach him.
“You have condemned her to die, Loki. She can never be free with the information you told you. Can you be sure that she won’t be able to use it against you? Against us?” he asked. “You see, if the war ends and our prisoners are released under a treaty or some other show of peace, she could threaten all of that by returning home, by going to her family and speaking of the conversations she had with an Asgardian Prince. What was peace could turn into another war just by word of mouth. Do you want that?”
“No, but I do believe you are being a bit unfair. You don’t know what I’ve said to her. She is alone. She has no weapons, no friends, no allies, no way to defend herself. She is alone.” What he didn’t say was that she was alone as he was alone and that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. “Me striking her down will do nothing. It will prove nothing. It will do nothing but breed hate and despair. Father, please, we don’t have to do this. We have a choice in the matter. We don’t have to kill her, we don’t have to condemn her, we don’t have to. We always have a choice, can’t you see that?”
“You know what’s expected of you. I cannot make it anymore clear than I already have, Loki. You will do it, or you will remain down here with her. I will leave you in this cell to be treated as a prisoner until the deed is done.”
“You… you can’t be serious?” Loki asked, shocked that his father would truly leave him to a life amongst the rats and criminals of the dungeons.
“…Fine. I’ll stay.”
Odin, without another word, turned and left, leaving Loki behind within the cell, blade in hand. Emerald colored eyes watched as his father left him, locked away like some sort of vigilante with a blade in one hand and the weight of the Nine Realms upon his shoulders. This woman had done him now harm and showed him nothing but kindness and friendship. How could he simply kill her because his father told him to? It wasn’t right.
After a few moments, the woman sat next to Loki and gently combed her fingers through his hair. She was like an elder sister attempting to comfort her little brother in a time of great struggle.
“They’re never going to let me live. You know that, don’t you?” she asked. “I am sorry that our friendship has caused something so horrible. I never meant to bring harm to you, but the last thing I want is to see you locked up in here when your place is in the palace, with your family. You do not belong here. You know that, don’t you? You need to do this. Please.”
“I can’t… I don’t want to. I can’t…” the young godling whispered. Tears clung at the edge of his ducts, but he never let them fall. Crying was a sign of weakness and he had learned over the years that it was necessary to cry behind closed doors, where no one could see him, or not to cry at all. “I can’t.”
The woman placed a gentle kiss on Loki’s cheek. “Thank you for standing up for me and showing me kindness in a place where there is none. We need to press forward, however.” Without another word, she reached over and placed her hand atop Loki’s. His fist clenched the knife tightly as she guided his hand.
Loki was a little over one thousand years old by the time he was banished to Midgard. After the tragedy that he had faced and endured and the damage that he had caused the world, he had been imprisoned. Eventually, however, he had been released on the condition that he would be banished to Midgard without access to his magic. He would have to prove his worthiness of his power and his godhood by living on Midgard, much like Thor had, only Loki wasn’t bound to a human’s body.
No, his punishment ran much deeper than that. In order to seal off his magic, a bind had been placed upon him, a barbaric and painful bind that sealed his magic within his body, causing undeniable agony from the pent up energy. It was a punishment on top of a punishment as a replacement for another punishment and every single day of it was living Hell.
Unfortunately the God’s life became a rather dull one. He spent most of his free time (which was all of his time) studying ways to lift the bind that was placed upon him. He didn’t have many friends that visited him. Occasionally he would have someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. or one of the Avengers check on him. Thor would also come to visit him and, on rare occasions, someone from Asgard would come down to see him. It was usually Fandral, one of the only friends he still had left. They weren’t as close as they had once been, but he was fortunate to still have him.
Sitting in a Starbucks near his current residence, Loki read over the paper he had purchased. There were five books sitting on his table as well as a laptop computer. As he read, a profile caught the corner of his eye, sidetracking him from his reading. At the counter stood a woman, speaking with the barista. For a moment, Loki stared, trying to place where he had seen her before. He knew he recognized the face, but he didn’t know where he could have met her. Lately he hadn’t been too friendly with humans.
Then it hit him. He was staring at the woman who he had killed in that prison cell under order of his father and guidance of the woman herself. How was that possible when she was dead? Her blood stained his hands. That day was as clear and vivid in his mind as if it were yesterday, yet there she stood, in the middle of Starbucks, a perfect reflection of that woman’s visage. The only difference was that she smelled human and all Loki could do was stare, as if caught in a trance. His mouth ran dry despite the four cups of coffee he had earlier that day.
It was like watching a train wreck. His mind reeled in horror, but he couldn’t stop reading. It just kept on getting worse the more he read which only made it harder to look away. Every time he was certain he couldn’t be more horrified, it proved him wrong. Worst of all, he’d spent enough time in Asgard, with the Allfather, to have entirely too good an idea of what everything looked like.
Kvasir shuddered from head to foot as the smell of Odin came back to him. “Ymir’s beard… There isn’t enough alcohol in the Nine.”
Odin, the Norse god of wisdom. war and magic, is called Allfather for he is indeed Father of the Gods and he played a central role in myths about the creation and destruction of the world.
In the beginning, he killed the primal frost giant Ymir and from his bones formed our universe. He arranged the heavens for the gods, the middle world for humans and dwarfs, and the underworld for the dead. Finally he created the first man and woman from an ash tree and an elm tree.
A Trickster; a God who had once been a fugitive of the Nine Realms. The one that no one ever expected to rule over them. The had expected the proud thunderer to someday be their king when the Allfather passed, but he had renounced his claim to throne while Loki was still hidden away and believed dead.
Asgard was not happy with such a development, but there was nothing that they could do to change it. And at this point, grief still had hold of the hearts of many an Asgardian. The realms had yet to be burnt to the ground and for now, they just had to accept Loki’s rule.
But something seemed off to the king on that day and his body was tense as he sat on the throne; the only other living souls in the room were those of the men who would lay down their lives protecting him if need be.
He went by many names and one name all together. The Allfather was his favorite though the same could be said for The First King. Geoff Ramsey was only known as an alias to cover the others up. He is the one who started it all, the one who brought the true life to the world and wished for true happiness for the life from then on.
It only took a little bit of wishing and exchange to allow the Allfather to gain immortality over one simple thing. He was to give his own soul up to the God’s above to be able to see his creations come to life and he took it. He was the First King and he would always keep that title among the others that followed after him. They may think he’s simply immortal but there’s only a small rumor that he sold his soul to the nether to keep his form the same as is.
Perhaps it’s true or perhaps it’s something else.
He holds no soul for his own though, that is true.
Lucifer was the second born son of God, the younger brother of Michael and the elder brother of all the rest. He was born beautiful and bright, and he held nothing but a great and unconditional love for his younger siblings. He felt a need to guide and protect them, and when he was lost he turned to Michael or to God. In the beginning, Lucifer was surrounded by the love and favor of his Father and the adoration of his siblings. There was nothing he could have wanted for. Heaven was an endless, achingly ravishing Paradise in which everything felt right and there was no concept of wrong.
Yet God was not content with what he had already built. The lovely Earth and the delicate Heaven above was somehow not enough to satisfy the Allfather. So in his image he created Humanity, and he loved them above all other things – including the angels that had come long before the hairless apes and their insidious Free Will. Lucifer did not know, at the time of its inception, the concept of what rolled through him as he watched his brothers and sisters be forsaken in favor of the flawed creatures below. He did not understand the darkness that settled in his heart as his siblings, one by one, followed their Father’s decree and admired humans over one another. It would take centuries for Lucifer to understand that in those moments, he had given birth to the seeds of jealousy and bitterness.
He spoke out against God, not just for himself but for all of his siblings. It hurt to watch them debase themselves for these flawed creatures, and it angered him to not have the attention he was used to surrounding himself with. He was jealous, he was bitter, he was angry – and above all else, he was convinced that he was right. Lucifer refused to love Humanity more than God, and he refused to love them more than his siblings. They were murderous, treacherous, petty and small. They had no right being put above the angels; their place was beneath them, as the second born they ought to be the second loved.
Perhaps it was this ideal that lead to Lucifer’s banishment. Perhaps it was his pride and anger, perhaps it was God’s idea of irony to show the second son what being the second loved truly meant. Regardless, after standing up against God for himself and his siblings, Lucifer was faced down by Michael and cast from Heaven under the order of God. It was then that Lucifer gave birth to hatred, but not for God or even Michael. His hatred was not toward God for being angry, but for casting him aside. His hatred was not toward Michael for obeying the word of their Father, but for not even bothering to question it for the sake of a brother who loved him. For not even thinking to ask why.
Anger coursed through Lucifer and it was then that his temper came to the fore. He wanted God to see how much being torn from his home had hurt him – but above all else he wanted God to see precisely how flawed humans truly were. And from Hell he worked and weaved, twisting and warping a human soul with nothing more than whispered words and the idea of temptation. She became something else entirely, a creature no longer mortal, neither human nor angel, dark and completely impure in every way. Lilith, the first demon, was the first of Lucifer’s creations. He didn’t like her – was in fact rather bored by her – but there was something about what he had done – what he had made that intrigued him. Making things – even petty, cruel, dark things – was fun. He could see the allure. What he couldn’t understand was how you could like them simply because you made them.
Of course, God wasn’t all too impressed with someone going around breaking his toys and taking all the pretty out of them (As Lucifer viewed it, anyway) which promptly resulted in the time-out room otherwise known as the Cage. Very. Very. Boring. Place. To say Lucifer hated the Cage most of all would be the understatement of the millennia. There was nothing to do but whisper, and despite the sheer amount of demons he weaved up while trapped there, he was painfully, brutally alone. That, really, was what made him a bit quirky – but we’ll get to that later.
Eventually, the locks fell into place and Lucifer was let out of his cage (not for the first time, but certainly the most significant of them) thanks to two Winchesters and a dead firstborn. Really, not a bad price. He found a vessel in Nick Jacobs, and with that part of the game set in motion, it was time to get down and dirty with the world cleansing.
Like the other angels, Lucifer had felt God’s absence for a long time – at first, he had thought it was further punishment. It wasn’t until one of his whispering creations mentioned that God was gone that it occurred to him maybe something bigger was happening and so, he put out some feelers and began developing a plan. He knew what he was meant to do, according to all the scriptures, but Lucifer hated being predictable. That was – well – boring. So he figured if God was gone – why play by his rules?
Letting the Horsemen out to play was fun, though Death – well Lucifer should have known better in that regard, and he acknowledges this. The really frustrating bit was the little Winchester brothers and their consistent naysaying. They were pesky little humans – but Lucifer would be lying if he said he didn’t like their spark. They were far from boring – they were fun – and Lucifer, after a millennia of being locked up with nothing but demons around, had a healthy appreciation for fun things.
Things stopped being fun, however, a couple of times. First, when they convinced Gabriel to stand up to him. That had been disappointing, and it had caused Lucifer a deep pain to smite his little brother. Michael had always been his favorite, it was true, but then what little brother didn’t worship their older sibling? Of all the younger siblings he had, Gabriel had been among Lucifer’s most cherished. That was what earned him so quick and painless a death, rather than the usual torture that befell anyone who dared succeed in hurting Lucifer. In truth, Lucifer simply couldn’t bear to torment Gabriel in such a manner – it was easier to dispose of him quickly.
And then there had been Castiel. Blessed little Castiel and all his misplaced loyalty, so naive and young. Lucifer liked Castiel – he was a good angel – but then his loyalty to the Winchesters went one step too far. Where Castiel found the courage to deck Michael with holy fire, Lucifer would never know, but his rage had been fast and immediate. He hadn’t even hesitated in destroying the baby brother that time, though a fleeting regret hit him at the mess. As fun as exploded vessels were, exploding Grace was a painful way to go. For that, Lucifer felt a bit bad, but he had other, peskier problems at that point in time: Namely, Dean Winchester.
Lucifer honestly had no idea how Sam pulled it off, but somehow he actually pushed Lucifer back long enough to send him back into the Cage. Now admittedly, Lucifer would have been pissed beyond belief about this if it hadn’t been for three factors.
One – he wasn’t alone, which meant he wouldn’t be bored.
Two, Michael was with him, which meant maybe (just maybe) they could get some talking in between the beatings.
And three, they had two vessels to play with in the meantime.
Except things didn’t go as planned. Things went wrong, very wrong, and for five hundred years in the cage with Michael, Lucifer came to many realizations. Sam’s body, then his soul were taken, leaving Lucifer alone but for his brother’s endless rage. He accepted it for what it was and waited it through. When they were pulled out, Lucifer found Nick again, and has since been on the run. [See Free Will Tab]