sons of darkness; sins of the father

and in the darkness

It was dark, but perhaps that was the loss of his eye, in the temple of the jotun saints and warriors. Here, Odin rested as his men collected their dead and wounded. Here, he sat contemplating the long list of his victories and conquests, and the emptiness of his heart. Even his new son and his lovely and fierce wife, Thor and Frigga, could not fill the void inside of him. It was in this moment of reverie that he heard the cry, the cry of a babe.

His head swiveled around as he searched, disoriented by the loss of his periphery vision. Finally, his sight landed on a bundle, small and frosted over, squirming and squalling. He picked up the bundle and saw a small jotun babe. A curious thing to find, at the center of the temple, as if the jotuns meant to hide it from him. As all who are filled with greed, the thought of something he could not or should not have only made him want to possess it more. Unfortunate for the babe to be sure.

Odin, now tidied from battle, his armies returned to Asgard, only his kingsgaurd with him, sat on the ornate ice throne of the jotun chief. Around him, the ruin of battle; while the Jotun warriors had cleared the city and palace to keep their women and children safe, the Asgardians had no qualms over the safety of jotuns. The throne was what was left, in a sea of crushed ice and broken glass, shards all around. In the arm on the side of his good eye, a sleeping, blue, jotun babe. The cavern of his missing eye remained uncovered, a symbol of what he had lost. The baby had intricate swirled markings on his skin—the mark of jotun royalty.
And so it was with his enemy and conqueror holding his son in his arms that Laufey, King of Ice, agreed to the peace that would ruin his land and people, and guarantee peace and security for Asgard. For it was his son, and his power, that Odin would take back with him to the mighty golden halls that day. And Laufey who would stay on the ice fields of Jotunheim where the gilded glass halls of his home once held his family, and newborn son.

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The halls sparkled, the glass was so fine and clear. Outside, mountains of ice and snow, covered in brush and shrub. He stood in hall high above the city, looking down he could see the wide lanes between tall towers made of intricate architecture. Everything had to be precise, perfect, because everything was made of a special tempered glass. The foundation of the city was ice, to be sure. But these towers? They were built by the finest glassworkers alive. Beings from all the realms came to see and contract these glass builders for their work. Laufey stared off into the distance, again hiding from his studies and lessons to dream of building his own glass creations. His dreams would never be realized ofcourse; he was his father, the King’s only son.

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Loki woke with a start. Why was he again dreaming of a Jotun? Why had he felt that he was Laufey, was experiencing Laufey’s memories?