Loki: Why I Began the End Read Online Free Page A

was the first time that a mere look from them actually made me feel inferior. My son and I were unwanted parasites in their eyes, and however well I’d held my own before such gazes in the past, I actually felt myself crumbling at the brunt of them. I think my sudden insecurity had to do a great deal with Fenrir, really. It was one matter for them to disrespect and loathe me—I usually deserved it. But not Fenrir—he was a truer equal to them than I was, if not their superior in intelligence, dignity, and strength. And they regarded him as nothing better than a leech that needed to be crushed underfoot. And all this only from their silent expressions permeating the air. The only words I could think to say were: “Come on, son,” as I led him away to the home he would be sharing with me.
         “Why should I waste my time here?” he asked me that night. “They despise the sight of me, and I have no desires to tie me to this place.”
         An excellent sign of his intelligence: The power and prestige of the Aesir were of absolutely no interest to him. I know now that it was intelligence; then, I thought it was foolishness. “Odin himself has invited you here,” I told him, “to the stronghold of power and wisdom. Whatever the motive of his invitation, you can’t just disregard it. Use this opportunity to your advantage.”
         “Even if I were interested, they are not interested in offering me anything.”
         “You’d be surprised how primitive their interests are. If I can manage to lure them into any form of camaraderie, I’m sure you can.”
         I think he heard the eagerness in my voice. Though I didn’t admit it aloud, I was glad to have one of my own with me in Asgard, someone of my own kind to stand and be counted with. And I think he knew that, because he said, “I’ll do what I can, father.”
         I thought it was what I wanted for him, to share in the power I had achieved from the Aesir. But I quickly discovered it wasn’t worth it, as my son was being transformed into a festival sideshow attraction. You see, Tyr (god of whatever) was among the several Aesir who believed, in spite of Odin’s orders, that Fenrir needed to be gotten rid of. And unlike myself, who was Odin’s blood-brother, Fenrir could be gotten rid of.
         Tyr started out with friendly competition. He and other male Aesir began an arm wrestling tournament. I declined, having little interest in physical feats. But Fenrir’s stubbornness got the better of him, and he enlisted into the tournament. It was sheer joy watching him conquer each Aesir, one at a time. None of them could hold a candle to him—he slammed one fist after the other, claiming all victories to be had. With every sneer from a loser, I had a very smug grin. But he was very good about it—unlike his father, he didn’t play up the bravado. In fact, his good nature was contagious, and as crowds assembled to watch each bout, several actually began rooting for him, and pumped their fists in the air with a cheer when he slammed another victory. For once in my life, I was overwhelmed—I was proud, happy, and laughing with artless merriment, rather than at some joke.
         But boy, was it some joke…
         Tyr actually befriended Fenrir after that day. They spent much of their time in athletic competitions and casual conversations that roared with laughter. I joined them sometimes, suspicious of any Aesir spending so much time with my son. Now, I’m usually a shrewd judge of character, but that was put into doubt when I observed genuine respect from Tyr. Could it be that a close-minded Aesir could actually see how impressive my wolfish Jotun son was? Unfathomable.
         Then the Aesir organized a new competition of strength: They would chain each other in fetters and try to break loose. The Aesir record was held by Thor, who was able to break out of the fetters in five seconds.
         “We’ve got a fresh pair