Chapter Text
To say life was easy for Loki, would be a lie. When he fell from the Bifrost, no, when he jumped from the Bifrost, he knew the risks. He had seen the future, had seen himself cradling his daughter while Thanos, the Mad Titan, the creature that was rumoured to bring the end, tortured him. In truth, even Loki could not have predicted what would happen in the years following his fall. Not even Loki, with all his tricks and skills, could break free from the Titan’s grasp.
His energy drained within days, after the last spell he performed twisted his body to allow him to feed his daughter. Nursing her, down in the cold, barren wasteland, was the only thing that kept him sane. That, and thoughts of his wife, safe up in Asgard. Safe, far from Thanos and the Dark Order. It was these moments that he would reach out, cradle her tiny, pale head, brush through the light dusting of hair on her head.
Unlike him, she was white. He was stuck in his Jotun form, cradling his new-born. The days passed to weeks, weeks to months, and then months to years. To begin with, Loki could handle the pain. He could handle the heat, whippings, burnings. He could handle the mental manipulation, his Magic being torn from him. They didn’t touch his baby, Thanos deemed it unfair. Until she was of a certain age, Alexianne would not be touched.
Loki was not an idiot. Even though he had mis-calculated how long he would be in Thanos’ domain, he did not underestimate when it came to his child, his heir, his star. Alexianne was kept safe by the Casket of Winters, the only source of energy he had. He used it to keep her young, even when she should have been running around as a young girl, she was still a toddler, living off of the scraps Loki was given to eat.
But then it happened, the moment that Thanos slipped up. Forty-two years of captivity, and he broke his hold over the God of Mischief. Loki didn’t hesitate, slaughtering the guards that held him and his child hostage, stealing the Mind Stone and fleeing. With its power, he escaped into a neighbouring galaxy, Alexianne strapped to his chest, and had the first opportunity to think. Forty-two years of captivity, and the promise that Thanos would kill anyone he held dear. Alexianne fell in that realm, as did anyone on Asgard, should he return.
The Jotun, finding himself quite alone in the spot he had chosen, sat down and looked to his child. With her by his side, he could not be selfish. He had to do the best for her, and was that take her to Asgard? Put a price on the Realm’s existence? Basically call Thanos back to them? He pondered all of this while seated on the rock he had found, looking to his young daughter. After hours of deliberation, using the Stone’s power to find out information that he needed, Loki made his decision. Ultimately, he had to do what was best for Alexianne.
And that was not Asgard. Not until Thanos, and all those that allied with the Mad Titan, were dead. Only then could Alexianne return to Asgard, only then could he see hiss wife again. First, he had to beat Thanos, to drive the Mad Titan into a trap he could not resist. This was what the Jotun decided, before looking down at his daughter that had been long-burdened with the power of the Casket of Winters.
Slowly, using the stone as his starting point, the God reversed his spell. It took time, gentle coaxing to convince the toddler of forty-two years to age, to speed her aging to a point where she would be safe. He was careful, weaving his Seidr like Hela had taught him all those years ago, concentrating as he twisted the Stone and the Casket to work with him, to work by his side. The power flowed through the Realm, and for the first time in forty-two years, Loki Laufeyson had power.
Once he had finished his spell, he stepped back to admire his work. He had never messed with her mind, she would have all of the knowledge from the years Loki had spent teaching her, talking of the life that she should have had. Memories of Sif, of Thor and Frigga and Asgard, would run fresh through her mind. He could teach her how to access them, how to make them real in her mind. But for now, he looked to his daughter, his breath stolen from his chest.
Instead of the toddler with wide, naïve eyes, and a blank expression, stood a girl. No, almost a woman. She looked around twelve, potentially thirteen in human-years, but that wasn’t what he was stunned silent from. Her eyes were a bright green, much like his, but her hair was a dark brown. It curled slightly, much unlike how Sif tried to keep hers. A thin form, shorter in stature than his, but not too far from her Mother’s height.
‘Alexianne?’ Had been his first words, spoken aloud in years. For with Thanos, he kept silent, even though the pain killed him. For with Alexianne, he had to speak in her mind, to keep her safe from the Dark Order and all their allies. But now, he could talk to her aloud, let the Realms and the Galaxies beyond hear his words.
‘Father?’
**
And Loki held his promise, to keep his Star safe while he fought Thanos. The Silvertongue did not go for the attack, no, instead carefully planning his methods. He taught his daughter to hold a dagger, taught her the arts of Seidr, of how to use her hands to create life. She would be his heir, his legacy, and he would not fail her. He showed her the memories of Asgard, of how they had lived before. Loki let his daughter begin to age naturally, showed her how to become a Warrior, but not one of Asgard.
One of the Galaxy. One that would eventually take over from him, once they had crushed anyone who thought Thanos’ ideas were the answer. They planned meticulously, plotting together deep into the nights that followed, the years that ticked past. Alexianne was a quick study, and the company Loki needed after being alone for so long. His daughter was everything good in him, a perfect balance between Loki and Sif, although sometimes the God thought he saw a lot more of Hela in her.
The Stones were at the forefront of their plans, the ability to control the Universe and those within it lay with them. But, other artefacts of importance were collected as well, Loki showing his Star the best the Universe had to offer. They ran in the Shadows, constantly hounded by the opposition, tracked to the very edges of the Galaxies. Avoiding everyone, growing close to nobody, crushing anyone who stood in their way.
‘A gift, my Star.’ Loki remarked, glancing to his daughter as she walked towards him. Her eyes flicked over the fallen bodies, to the creatures that he had killed to receive the latest item. The Jotun watched as her eyes fell to the sword he was holding, the last weapon crafted by the Dwarven Blacksmith. Thanos had decimated them, every last one, which was a slight bind.
‘And what do they call it, Father?’ He pouted slightly at the name, knowing she only used it during battle. The smirk she gave him was like looking into a mirror, but he did not flinch away from it. She fixed every hole that he had in his persona, was the light that constantly followed them.
‘Starlight. A gift for the next Queen.’ She laughed, a sound so light that his chest released the breath it was holding, a smile crossing his own complexion. A pale hand reached out, wrapping around the handle of the weapon, tilting it towards the sunlight. Queen, she would be one day. Not only of Asgard, but of all the people that had sworn allegiance to them while they destroyed Thanos.
Hundreds of planets in the outer regions, ones that had lost half their population, offered to join their army. But an army was not what they needed, not when they were so powerful. His Star was still learning, even after all these years running, but she would be good.
For where his nickname was the Night-King, the man who stole the shadows, hers would be the light. He could see it in the way she moved, in the way those around her were inspired. She lifted the sword, dark blue flames racing down the side. Her Seidr branched out, dancing across the field soaked in blood, lightly brushing over the corpses of the dead. From their bodies, she stole the souls of those who had served Thanos, breathing in deeply as her Seidr returned to her side.
Goddess of Death, she was not. Goddess of something even greater than Death, that was a possibility. With the sword sheathed, she walked to his side, reaching out to hug him. She threw arms around his neck, burying her head into his shoulder. Loki hugged back just as hard, kissing he forehead and thanking the Norns for the daughter he had been gifted, for the woman she was.
Because, out in the furthest galaxies, 159 years had passed since Loki had fallen from the Bifrost.
On Asgard, it was only eighteen months.