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Dante trekked through the forest, with Natasha trailing a few paces behind. The forest in Asgard was lush and vibrant, as if the land had been groomed personally by a god. Perhaps it had been.
It didn't take long before they encountered movement. A pack of giant wolves, probably direwolves, burst through the bush. Ahead of them, a mountain goat fled downslope in panicked, bounding leaps. It was nearly the size of an ox—with thick horns shaped like spears. Even running for its life, it looked like it could kill a man without slowing down.
"Dinner!"
A smile tugged at Natasha's mouth. "Stealing prey from wolves won't be easy."
"Easier than stealing lunch money from kids."
He reached out to Venom mentally and let the symbiote armor flow over him. Without Death's mask, his long tongue flickered out of his dangerous mouth as he spoke, "Come with me. Can't risk going too far."
Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You sure it's not an excuse to touch me?"
"Fifty-fifty."
She scoffed but stepped closer anyway, letting him scoop her up in one arm. The height gained from Venom's suit made things like this so much easier.
"Keep your hands steady."
An empty stomach truly drove people desperate. Otherwise, she wouldn't have agreed so easily.
He latched a symbiote line on the top of a big tree and swung. Natasha shifted in his hold with each arc, wincing every time they came too close to crashing into a tree. She had yet to get used to this type of danger.
He released at the perfect moment and slammed right in front of the fleeing goat. Its horns crashed into his chest and bounced back. The goat staggered, staring in shock at the "invisible wall."
A sharp tentacle burst out of his back and stabbed through the mountain goat's torso, through its heart. The animal jerked once, then went still. Its legs dangled as the tentacle lifted it slightly off the ground. Blood dripping down the goat's carcass disappeared before hitting the earth.
"Goat secured!"
"So ruthless," Natasha commented, stepping down from his arms. "Poor guy will be someone's dinner."
"I'm still more merciful than wolves," he replied calmly. "They'd eat while it's still breathing."
As he mentioned the wolves, the pack skidded to a stop right before him. Their hackles rose as they looked around for their prey, which was now concealed under Death's cloak.
"Weaklings," Venom grumbled. "Kill them."
'Relax.'
The wolves spread out in search of their lost prey.
Death showed up beside him, using her cloak to remove the trails left behind by them. "Heimdall might still notice the discrepancies."
"Let him. He can't find us."
Natasha's gaze lingered on the place the wolves had disappeared. "Do you know the skinning process?"
"Of course."
Taskmasker hadn't just copied fighting styles with Photographic Reflex. He had also downloaded a chef's style, a butcher's style, and even the mercenaries who camped in the wilds. It was involuntary, of course. Taskmaster had no choice. Combining all the three styles would give him serviceable enough steak in the forest.
"We'll still need water, though."
Natasha pointed him to the direction of the downward slope. "We'll find it that way. Let me clean up before you get it all bloody."
"Would you rather take a dip in the river, or bathe in the shiny, royal Asgardian bathhouse?
Natasha's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're not thinking of that."
"I'm exactly thinking of that."
It would be a waste to not use Death's cloak when he knew exactly whose buttons to press in order to access the Bifrost Bridge. Someone who loved making deals. Someone who also loved betraying allies.
"This might be the stupidest thing I've done besides signing that contract," Natasha whispered. "You'll get me killed."
"How can I bring harm to my bride?"
Natasha scoffed. "Stop, you're making me blush."
***
Four hours later.
Loki's quarters at the moment would've confused almost anyone in the palace. Thor would call it madness. Odin would call it chaos. Even Frigga, who understood Loki better than anyone, might pause at the sheer variety of it. Books and scrolls were thrown across the room. The table could be seen covered in constellation charts and more scrolls.
And there were four Lokis.
One paced back and forth, deep in thoughts.
One occupied the bed in a bathrobe, as though he was relaxing after a long day of work.
One stood by the window, hands clasped behind him. The picture-perfect sight of a royal prince.
And the last drifted slowly through the room with a heavy book held open in both hands. It detailed the history of Asgard, or rather—history as Odin allowed it to be remembered.
"Days of glory and conquest without any… tragedy. That doesn't feel right," he whispered to himself. "Dear father. What are you trying to hide from us?"
"Is he hiding the trail of a lover?" Bathrobe-Loki snorted from the bed. "A concubine from a forbidden race somewhere. Something scandalous."
"Don't be ridiculous. Odin is the Allfather. King of Asgard. He has the power to make forbidden the norm here. He doesn't need to hide his concubines."
Next to pose a question was Loki who paced around the room. "What if Odin is a demonic god, whose entire rule has been about fulfilling a twisted ritual? It's all just a massive middle finger to everyone—"
Loki, who had been quiet by the window, waved his hand. The pacing Loki vanished. The book Loki vanished. Only the Bathrobe-Loki remained.
The real Loki sighed. "I'll find it on my own."
He vanished, presence completely erased. Not even Heimdall could sense the prince lurking in the shadows. The Asgardian magic Frigga had taught him made him excel in trickery and deception.
Heimdall, with his absolute senses, could still perceive Loki if he actively searched. However, at this time Heimdall should be focused on finding invaders rather than keeping an eye on the Asgard prince—the lesser one as they believed him to be.
***
The search for Odin led Loki to the Bifrost Bridge. The gatekeeper in golden Asgardian armor was standing dignified, hands clasping the hilt of Hofund, which doubled as the key to Bifrost.
"My king, I observed a pack of direwolf leave that same mountain. They were terrified of someone… or something."
"They linger still in the furthest mountains," Odin spoke in a heavy voice. "Death's apostle never left Asgard."
Loki rubbed his chin, concealed not too far away from them.
'Death's Apostle?'
He had heard countless titles in the halls of Asgard—Allfather, Skyfather, God of Thunder, Gatekeeper of the Bifrost, Lady of the Vanir. He never heard anything about Death and its Apostle.
Coincidentally, Asgard had a goddess of life in Idunn but never a god/goddess of death. With all the glory Asgardians had for warriors dying to be in Valhalla, there should at least be a shrine dedicated to some deity of death.
Heimdall looked towards the distant mountains, his eyes glowing golden. "Could this resurgence be tied to the prophecy of Ragnarök?"
"We won't give it a chance." Odin turned his back to Heimdall, tightening his grip on Gungnir. Not even the Frost Giants could make Odin look this serious. "At dusk, Thor and the Warriors Three will sweep the mountains clean. We'll find the snake before it has an opportunity to spread its venom."
Loki felt a bitter feeling in his chest. In the face of a mysterious "apostle"—a potential harbinger of Ragnarök itself—Odin's first instinct was to send his golden child.
Loki's idiotic brute who never used his brain—Thor.
Always Thor.
Loki was tired of this blatant favoritism, but he could do nothing. Thor was what Asgard wanted. Thor was beloved by them all.
'This is pure madness.'
For a moment, a dark thought crossed Loki's mind: let this Death apostle bring Ragnarök and burn this land of stupid gods. Then Frigga's face surfaced. The only person who had seen him more than a shadow next to Thor. She shouldn't be endangered at any cost.
When Odin disappeared in a flash of light, Loki turned around and walked away.
'Perhaps I can find this Apostle first to change Father's mind.'
Nothing would be lost even if he failed. He would gain an understanding of this mystery surrounding Death and her Apostle, and why his father had such a deep loathing for them. Beating Thor would be another jewel to the crown.
Returning to his quarters, Loki sat on the edge of the bed. Minutes passed by then a knock came.
"Enter."
The door swung open, and Frigga stepped inside. The room seemed to be brightened just by her presence.
Behind her, two lady guards carried a heavy chest and set it down carefully before bowing and stepping out, closing the door behind them.
Every month, Frigga curated books from across the Nine Realms and brought them to Loki. While Thor arm-wrestled warriors and chased glory through the training fields, Loki quietly expanded his knowledge with Frigga's help. Another reason why he deserved to succeed the Wise King Odin over Thor.
She smiled at him. "My son."
Loki's expression softened. "Mother."
Frigga approached and sat beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. She lifted a hand and placed it gently against his cheek.
"How have you been, child?"
"I've never been better."
"It is good to hear." She sighed, showing a look of concern. "Your father has been… busy with kingship lately. Do not take his neglect to heart. He loves us all dearly."
Loki didn't believe most of that, but he nodded anyway, because it mattered to her that he did. "Yes, Mother."
Frigga reached out, and a book floated from the chest to her hands. The cover showed an old tale—one of those stories meant to teach children but carried enough depth to inspire adults.
A story of two brothers, who became estranged over time.
For the next half hour, she read to him in a gentle voice, as if she was singing a lullaby.
When she finished, she kissed his forehead and smiled. "Sleep, Loki."
"Good night, Mother."
Frigga rose and left.
Left in silence, Loki leaned back, palm pressed into the sheets.
'I should get going.'
A rustling from the corner made him tense. His gaze turned toward the sound.
Something enormous stood in the shadows, flipping through one of the books from the chest,
A giant black figure wearing a living armor made from some unknown life form. What's shocking was the skull head surrounded in pale blue and yellow flames.
The figure closed the book with a soft thump and the flames in its hollow sockets locked on Loki.
"Your mother told a terrific story," the figure, a male, spoke the language of Midgard in a deep voice. "Made me shed a tear. Family is such a beautiful thing."
***
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