MUs Loki | Episode One

Chapter: Shadows of the Past

2012 - Asgard

The cold winds of Asgard howled through the towering gates, cutting through the stone and ice with a chill that reached deep into the bones. Loki's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the past pressing heavily upon him as he moved silently through the corridors of the castle, a shadow in the night. His breath was shallow, but his purpose was clear—tonight, the game would end.

The flicker of torchlight illuminated the path ahead, and Loki’s sharp green eyes glinted as he neared the dungeons—those forsaken halls where his children had been imprisoned.

Fenrir.

Loki’s lips parted in a silent prayer as he approached the cell where his eldest son had been bound for what felt like an eternity. Fenrir, the great wolf, had been chained since the day of his birth—held captive by Odin’s cruel judgment, a punishment for simply existing. But Loki had had enough. After everything—the slaughter of his beloved Angrboða, the destruction of his children’s futures—he would no longer stay silent.

Loki’s hands trembled as he reached for the chains that bound his son. The metal was enchanted, cursed with Odin’s magic, but Loki knew the spells well. He had walked the branches of Yggdrasil, been everywhere in the realms, and he had learned much. He muttered an incantation under his breath, pulling the threads of magic that held Fenrir in place.

The chains rattled, and with a final snap, they shattered.

Fenrir’s massive form stirred in the darkness, the wolf’s eyes glowing with recognition. Loki's breath hitched as the creature rose, stretching his enormous limbs before padding over to nuzzle his father’s side, whining softly. Loki’s heart twisted in his chest.

“My son, my beautiful Fenrir…” Loki whispered, petting his son’s massive head. “No more chains. No more cages.”

The wolf let out a low, mournful whine, its large tail wagging slightly as Loki stroked the fur on his massive head. Fenrir had never known freedom. But now…now, Loki would change that.

But they were not safe yet.

Loki’s gaze darkened. The room was still too quiet—too still. He had no intention of staying in Asgard. Not after everything Odin had done. The very idea of Ragnarok repulsed him, a calamity orchestrated by Odin to reclaim glory. No, Loki’s fight was not with fate, but with the cruel god who claimed to be a father.

He had to take his children away from this place. Away from the grasp of Odin.

A low growl rumbled in Fenrir’s throat, and Loki turned to face him, placing a hand on his son’s side. “We will go now.”

With a swift motion, Loki moved toward the stables. Sleipnir, his second child, stood there—his majestic, eight-legged form towering, his silvery coat glinting in the moonlight. He pawed at the ground as if sensing the change in the air, his ears perked, and his gaze soft.

The bond between father and child was unspoken, but Loki’s heart warmed at the sight of his child —thechild who had been born from his own union and magic with Svaðilfari who was a magnificent stallion , half-brother to Fenrir and a creature of unparalleled strength and grace.

“You’re ready, my child,” Loki whispered as he moved toward Sleipnir, who nuzzled him gently. “We leave Asgard. And we never return.”

Sleipnir whinnied softly, as if to acknowledge his father’s command. The mighty steed stood tall and strong, a creature who had never known imprisonment. But he understood, as all children of Loki did, the burden of their legacy.

Loki turned back to Fenrir, who was already pacing restlessly, his great paws moving with an almost unnatural grace. The wolf’s form was massive, but with a single, steady breath, Loki summoned magic once again. Fenrir shifted then, his massive body shrinking until he stood before his father as a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, his features sharp, with the same fierce eyes that had once been that of a wolf.

Fenrir’s human form wasn’t one Loki often saw, but it was still his son.

Loki took a long breath. “We leave now, before they can stop us.”

Sigyn, Loki’s wife and the mother of his unborn twins, stood silently behind him. Her eyes, full of understanding and sorrow, met Loki’s for a moment. Her hands rested on her growing belly, and despite everything, there was peace in her gaze.

“We go to Midgard?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Loki replied, his voice resolute. “We will protect them. All of them. And I will not let Odin take them from me.”

With a final glance toward Asgard, Loki turned away, his heart aching as the weight of centuries pressed on him. He had lost so much. But he would not lose his children.

They would go to Midgard, to a place where they could hide. And they would stay together.

The Bifrost lay ahead. But Loki had no intention of using it. He had walked the branches of Yggdrasil—he had been to realms far and wide—and now, he would use the roots of Yggdrasil that connected Midgard directly. The journey would be long, but it was the safest path for them.

They stepped into the realm of Midgard, the Earth, their destination unknown, but their resolve unshakable.

The cold night air cut through the trees as Loki, Sigyn, Fenrir, and Sleipnir emerged from the depths of the forest, their arrival unnoticed by most, but not by everyone.

A small team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had been on alert. For weeks, strange energy readings had been detected. It wasn’t a coincidence. They knew something was coming, but they hadn’t expected it to be…this.

Phil Coulson, Nick Fury, and Maria Hill stood at the edge of the Triskelion’s helipad, eyes trained on the strange phenomenon unfolding before them.

“Something’s off,” Maria muttered, her hand at her side, ready for whatever came next.

Nick Fury’s one good eye narrowed. “I don’t like it, but we need to get ahead of this. It’s not just a strange energy signature. It’s…distinct.”

A ginormous wolf, still in its great form, paced in front of them, but not in an aggressive way—more as though lost. And beside the wolf were two figures: a man who resembled something out of mythology—tall, dark-haired, dressed in flowing garments—and a woman, her expression a mirror of stoic grace.

Coulson took a breath. “You guys could use some help. And maybe food... it’s been a long day for all of you, I presume?”

Loki, standing tall and proud, glanced at Coulson, his eyes filled with exhaustion and silent pain.

“Help?” Loki said, his voice low but carrying the weight of millennia. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, but something about the man's words—and the air around them—made him hesitant.

“We can help,” Coulson replied, his voice steady, "Try us.”

Loki let out a soft sigh, turning to his family. Fenrir shifted back into human form, looking no more comfortable in this new world than Loki did, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“We trust no one,” Loki muttered, but then his eyes softened. “Except each other."

Sigyn nodded, and together, they took a step toward the unknown.

Fury and Maria exchanged a look. Whatever was happening now, they weren’t going to be able to stop it.

And Loki, God of Mischief and broken father, was ready to carve a new destiny.

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