Read Online Loki: Why I Began the End by Maia Jacomus - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maia Jacomus
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didn’t care whether I was coming or going.
As I was staring into space, inhaling every remaining drop of mead in the room, Odin entered.
“It’s not my policy to revive warriors after this battle,” he quipped as he looked around the banquet hall of empty mugs and passed-out drunks. “Looks like you finished the last of it.”
I looked over to him—this man who was apparently more than a blood-brother, but actual blood father—debating over whether or not to ask him anything…or even to talk at all. Did he know? Was that why he made me his blood-brother? I tried to find my voice, and decided that to feign drunkenness would add the appropriate levity. “Why’d you make you my brood-blother?”
He smirked and sat next to me. “Could you rephrase the question?”
“Why’d you make me my blood-brother?”
He pat me on the back, and I forced a belch to help my ruse. “Because I could tell that you’re a good man.”
I spit out laughter, flailing the mug. Then I switched to severity and slammed the mug down. “I want the truth!” I then cocked a grin and said, “I’m really the bastard son of some Aesir, aren’ I? ‘Cuz you would never really trust a Jotun.”
“You’re the only Jotun I trust. In fact, I would sooner trust you with important matters than most Aesir.”
I squinted at him. “Are you sure I’m not an Aesir? ‘Cuz I’m awfully smart and amazing.” I pointed at his nose and slurred, “I’m pretty much as awesome as you.”
He shook his head. “I’m sure things would have been easier if you were an Aesir.” He chuckled and pat my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t regret it—yet.” With that, he rose and helped Heimdall to his feet.
Odin really had no idea of the truth. Yes, he’s always been a very guarded person, but I could tell that he really didn’t know that I’m his son. Well…I guess he could have feigned ignorance to cover his indiscretion. But all things considered…I really don’t think he knew. I don’t think he knows. No…looking at me now, I’m convinced he has no idea.
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE HUNTING PARTY
Tantamount to how surprised I was by Odin’s approval of my sons—and learning I am his son—was his being eager for me to get to know his known son, Balder. I honestly had little interest in any of Odin’s other children. Balder in particular was always talked of as good, wholesome, and wise—altogether, a boring combination. He was called the Golden Boy, among other things, because he seemed always surrounded by a golden aura of light.
For years, I knew almost nothing about him. When he became ten years of age, Odin sent him out to travel the world and learn everything possible; to build his library of wisdom, I suppose. He returned just shortly after our wedding, twenty-four years of age. And his arrival sparked a bizarre scheme in Odin: He, Balder, and myself would all go on an overnight hunting trip together. I was never very interested in hunting to begin with, and despite our being blood-brothers, I wasn’t sure Odin was on the level. But he was—we were all packed and gone that next morning.
While we were traversing across the wilds of Midgard, Balder decided to indulge his curiosity about me: “Father’s told me much about you.”
“I’m sure he did,” I answered blandly.
“You are half-Jotun?”
Suppressing a knowing smirk, I replied, “That’s right.”
“What was it like for you to make the transference from Jotunheim to Asgard?”
I looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. No one had ever cared to ask that question. “I wasn’t really accepted at first. I’m still not, in a lot of ways, though I think I’m respected more than I was. Of course, that has a lot to do with your father—anyone he deems worthy has to be
As I was staring into space, inhaling every remaining drop of mead in the room, Odin entered.
“It’s not my policy to revive warriors after this battle,” he quipped as he looked around the banquet hall of empty mugs and passed-out drunks. “Looks like you finished the last of it.”
I looked over to him—this man who was apparently more than a blood-brother, but actual blood father—debating over whether or not to ask him anything…or even to talk at all. Did he know? Was that why he made me his blood-brother? I tried to find my voice, and decided that to feign drunkenness would add the appropriate levity. “Why’d you make you my brood-blother?”
He smirked and sat next to me. “Could you rephrase the question?”
“Why’d you make me my blood-brother?”
He pat me on the back, and I forced a belch to help my ruse. “Because I could tell that you’re a good man.”
I spit out laughter, flailing the mug. Then I switched to severity and slammed the mug down. “I want the truth!” I then cocked a grin and said, “I’m really the bastard son of some Aesir, aren’ I? ‘Cuz you would never really trust a Jotun.”
“You’re the only Jotun I trust. In fact, I would sooner trust you with important matters than most Aesir.”
I squinted at him. “Are you sure I’m not an Aesir? ‘Cuz I’m awfully smart and amazing.” I pointed at his nose and slurred, “I’m pretty much as awesome as you.”
He shook his head. “I’m sure things would have been easier if you were an Aesir.” He chuckled and pat my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t regret it—yet.” With that, he rose and helped Heimdall to his feet.
Odin really had no idea of the truth. Yes, he’s always been a very guarded person, but I could tell that he really didn’t know that I’m his son. Well…I guess he could have feigned ignorance to cover his indiscretion. But all things considered…I really don’t think he knew. I don’t think he knows. No…looking at me now, I’m convinced he has no idea.
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE HUNTING PARTY
Tantamount to how surprised I was by Odin’s approval of my sons—and learning I am his son—was his being eager for me to get to know his known son, Balder. I honestly had little interest in any of Odin’s other children. Balder in particular was always talked of as good, wholesome, and wise—altogether, a boring combination. He was called the Golden Boy, among other things, because he seemed always surrounded by a golden aura of light.
For years, I knew almost nothing about him. When he became ten years of age, Odin sent him out to travel the world and learn everything possible; to build his library of wisdom, I suppose. He returned just shortly after our wedding, twenty-four years of age. And his arrival sparked a bizarre scheme in Odin: He, Balder, and myself would all go on an overnight hunting trip together. I was never very interested in hunting to begin with, and despite our being blood-brothers, I wasn’t sure Odin was on the level. But he was—we were all packed and gone that next morning.
While we were traversing across the wilds of Midgard, Balder decided to indulge his curiosity about me: “Father’s told me much about you.”
“I’m sure he did,” I answered blandly.
“You are half-Jotun?”
Suppressing a knowing smirk, I replied, “That’s right.”
“What was it like for you to make the transference from Jotunheim to Asgard?”
I looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. No one had ever cared to ask that question. “I wasn’t really accepted at first. I’m still not, in a lot of ways, though I think I’m respected more than I was. Of course, that has a lot to do with your father—anyone he deems worthy has to be
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