[Fanfiction] Rebirth
This was my NaNo project this year. It... didn't go very far. I only got two chapters done. XD But I'm still posting it here. Be warned, though; I haven't even reread this, let alone proofread it, so there might be utterly bizarre typos, repeated/missing words, and other mistakes.
This is a fic that I had already started a long time ago. You can read the beginning here.
I've also changed the title. "Reborn" kept making me think of Mafia babies.
He didn't know how many years he had been in this dark, cold prison. Many centuries, certainly. Maybe even millennia. Most of the time, he was barely conscious. In the beginning, he had been desperate to escape, to feel warmth once again, to see his family. When that had proved impossible, despite his impressive size and strength, he had been struck with grief. He wished he could have prayed for the gods to keep his family safe, if nothing else, but the gods were the ones who had taken his family apart in the first place...
He had never felt so alone then.
It had also brought up feelings he hadn't been very familiar with - anger and hatred. This was nothing compared to the annoyance he felt towards his siblings when they were being silly, or even the slight resentment towards his father for making his mother sad. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to hurt someone, to make them feel pain. He wanted to get revenge on those who had destroyed his and his family's lives. Of course, he still couldn't leave his prison and go after the culprits. All he could do was attack the boats and ships that dared come any close to him.
However, after some time, even those hateful feelings passed, leaving only loneliness. How he longed for some company, for someone who could talk to him or just stay by his side so he wouldn't forget himself and lose his sanity. It had come to the point where he would have even gladly accepted the company of the gods. Anyone would do. Whenever a boat strayed too close, he would try to approach it gently, but by then it seemed he had already grown a reputation, for people always panicked at the sight of him and fled. It didn't help that he had accidentally destroyed the boats in some of those attempts. Eventually, the boats stopped coming altogether. He had been left completely alone. Gods, giants, humans, even the fish - no one wanted to be anywhere near him. By now, he was resigned to spend the rest of his miserable existence alone.
Even as he accepted his fate, it didn't make the hollow feeling inside him go away.
It felt like an eternity had gone by when he finally sensed someone approaching him. A very small boat, lost in the sea. Whoever was on it had probably got carried away from the shores by the currents. (He dared not hope they had come just to see him. Not any more.) Curious, he wanted to take a look at them, but he had become so numb that it ended up as half-hearted attempt, at best, to break the surface. He sank back again and fell unconscious.
Midgardsorm...
So cold... so dark...
Midgardsorm...
So lonely...
Midgardsorm, wake up!
He started slightly, darkness dissolving into a blurry, bright shape right in front of him. He wanted to ask who was there, but couldn't find the strength to. Feebly, slowly, he managed to flick out his forked tongue, hoping to smell his visitor's nature and intentions. It was weak, but it was there. Much to his surprise, it smelled familiar. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it smelled like his...
Father...
This couldn't be right. His imagination had to be playing tricks on him. Why would his father be here? It was absurd. It made no sense. Jormungand focused on the bright figure floating before him, his sight becoming clearer little by little. Of course this wasn't his father; it was a child. Maybe one of Loki's god sons? But that made even less sense! Maybe he was just dreaming, after all. He was still sleeping in the cold, dark sea.
Midgardsorm, I need your help.
Mind as numb as his body, he didn't even stop to think why anyone would come all the way here to ask help from him of all creatures. All Jormungand thought in response to that was, I can't help you.
There was a pause, during which Jormungand almost fell back asleep.
Why won't you help me? Do you resent me?
Jormungand's distant heart suddenly ached like it hadn't in ages, the strongest feeling he experienced in a very long time. He wasn't really thinking about the words that invaded his mind, just responded naturally.
I can't help anyone.
Is your resentment that deep?
Resentment? What was this about resentment? Yes, he resented a lot of people, even though he no longer showed it openly. What difference did it make? All his resentment had ever done for him was confirm everyone's belief that he was a heartless monster that deserved to be imprisoned in a cold, dark place at the mercy of a cruel god who called himself the Defender of Justice.
I could never help anyone. Not even those dearest to me. I can't even help myself out of this prison. I'm useless. I have always been told so.
There was another pause, and then...
You're right, you can't help me if you are in this prison. You are useless to me in that form.
No matter how many times he was told that, it always hurt. His icy heart clenched again, but Jormungand tried to ignore it. He had already accepted his fate.
But if I get you out of here and give you the means, will you help me?
Although he didn't move a muscle, he inwardly smiled a rueful smile. On top of all things, he had to put up with this mockery from a mini Loki lookalike, or maybe he really was hallucinating, to hear something so outrageous. No one in all of the nine worlds, not even the trickster god Loki himself, would ever dare to openly defy Odin by setting the Midgard Serpent free - and for something as trivial and selfish as an exchange of favours, to boot.
If only it was true... If only it was possible... then yes, he would help. Or maybe he wouldn't be able to help, but he would do his best. Even if he had to sacrifice his life. He would do anything. He would worship the ground his saviour walked on. He would be eternally grateful and loyal. If only he could feel the warmth of the sun again, for even just a moment, he would follow anyone, even Thor, to the end.
Faintly, he thought he could see the glowing child smile briefly.
Very good. Now I'll cast a spell on you and you'll go on a journey with me.
The little boy closed his eyes and glowed brighter, completely blinding Midgardsorm for a moment. He felt his whole body tingle with a delicious warmth. The next thing he knew, the water was as agitated as during the worst storms.
And he was drowning.
oOo
When he came to, all was calm. It was cold and dark, but not nearly as much as he had grown used to. He looked up to see a darkening sky. He felt strange and deformed, not to mention light-weighted. He was lying on a hard surface, rocking up and down. Instinctively, he flicked his tongue out, but that, too, felt strange and he couldn't really smell anything.
“Oh, you're awake,” said a tired, boyish voice. Jormungand lifted his head from the hard surface it had been lying on and looked in the direction of the voice. There was someone right in front of him. The figure was blurry, but he recognized it all the same. It was that child, the one in his dream who resembled his father. Back then, he had been glowing like a god. Now, there was nothing godly about him. He looked weary, pale, and cranky.
Confused about what was going on (was he still dreaming?), he moved his head left and right, noting that they were on a small boat. After centuries of cold numbness, his brain was struggling to get fully back to work, but it could tell right away that there was something very wrong with this picture. He was a giant serpent, long enough to encircle Midgard. He couldn't possibly be sharing a small boat with a little boy.
“You'd better make use of that human form I gave you,” said the boy. “It took a lot of my magic, you know. Not to mention breaking the curse that kept you confined to the sea...”
“Human form?” Jormungand tried to ask, but the words came out wrong, almost unintelligible. His mouth felt too strange to form words properly. So, in silence, he just looked down at himself. True enough, instead of a huge, scaly body, he saw a scrawny, fragile-looking human body, dressed in modest clothes. It twitched as he tried to figure out how to move his new legs and arms. Moving them felt too strange, alien to his instincts. He felt as if they were going to start moving on their own and he couldn't control them, so he tried to keep still and returned his gaze to the child. There were so many things he wanted to ask, but he didn't even know where to start or if he would even be able to voice them.
“Don't worry, you'll get used to that body soon enough,” said the child. “I'll see to it that you learn to use it as quickly as possible. And then you'll be able to help me.”
Jormungand just stared at him, dazed. The boy narrowed his eyes, apparently offended at the lack of response.
“You will help me, won't you? You must!” he said, accusingly. “I'm your father! I got you out of the sea!”
Jormungand just kept staring in astonishment. It was just now beginning to dawn on him that, yes, he was out of the sea. After ages, he was finally free. If this was a dream, he didn't want to ever wake up. But somehow, he knew for sure now that this was no dream.
Jormungand said nothing. He didn't even care to make sure that this snappish child was really his father. All that mattered was that this boy had saved him, and Jormungand decided right there and then that his life and soul belonged to him. If this really was his father, that only made it better. As a child, he had always wished to prove his worth to his father - that had been, of course, before he had realised he was worthless - but now his father was giving him another chance. He couldn't mess up this time. He would work hard to achieve whatever was asked of him.
“Well?” prompted the child, impatient.
“O-of course I will help you,” Jormungand replied, struggling to form the words. “Anything. I'll do anything you want.
Even though his sight was still quite blurry, he could see the boy narrow his eyes at him.
“Um, thank you for getting me out of the sea,” Jormungand tried to add, hoping to appease him.
The boy stared him for another moment, then nodded and seemed to relax marginally.
Silence fell upon them. Instinctively, Jormungand tried to coil up, an old nervous habit. But in this form, all he succeeded at was twitching awkwardly, still unused to his new body.
“A-are you really my father?” he asked, feeling unsure of himself.
“Can't you tell by looking at me?” was the curt answer.
Jormungand suddenly felt his face warm up. What a strange sensation. He wondered if this was normal, or if there was something wrong with this body. Still, the warmth was pleasant after centuries of icy cold, and it helped soothe the shame he felt. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to recognize his father by sight alone when everything looked so blurry and he was deprived of his excellent sense of smell. Was this how human bodies worked? He suddenly felt sorry for them.
He wasn't sure how to feel about being in his father's presence for the first time since before his exile to Midgard. He wanted to ask if Loki knew what had happened to their family. He had heard rumours, but he wanted to know if they were true, if his mother and his siblings were all right. He was also curious as to why in the nine worlds his father had taken the form of a child. He also wanted to know why they were aimlessly floating on a small boat in the middle of the sea. Why wouldn't Loki teleport or fly them out of here? However, he felt this was not the time to pester Loki with questions, especially when he already seemed to be in such a foul mood. Thus, he settled with the one question he felt was only to be expected in this situation:
“So, what do you wish me to do to help you?”
Loki remained in sullen silent for a moment longer before answering, “I just need your assistance while I'm in this form.”
Jormungand nodded. It was a vague answer, but he figured that it was just that simple. It wasn't his place to question. If Loki needed something specific, all he had to do was say it.
He began to worry a little when Loki started grumbling to himself.
“Maybe I should have left you in your true form,” he muttered. “At least until we reached the shore. You could have just given me a ride there.”
Jormungand shifted, trying to coil up again and this time succeeding at getting into a human foetal position of sorts. He wasn't sure what his father was thinking, but it sounded like he already regretted giving him a human form. Maybe he had just realised that Midgardsorm would be even more useless in a weak body he couldn't control. What if he never learnt to control it? If he couldn't learn how to speak properly, or walk, or even stand up on two feet, wouldn't he be even more useless than when he was a serpent? What if Loki realised that and decided he didn't need him, after all? Would he throw him back into the sea again? And why in the nine worlds were they still on this boat?!
Again, he couldn't bring himself to voice any of these questions or doubts. He trusted his father to know what he was doing. He would patiently wait to see how things were going to develop from here. Surely Loki didn't plan on drifting around on this boat forever?
oOo
Night had fallen and it was cold and dark again. The difference now was that he knew the sun would rise soon enough, bringing its wonderful warmth with it, and that he wasn't alone any more. Granted, his company had fallen asleep on him, but it was still better than the utter loneliness of the ocean. He wasn't sure how long they had been drifting, but he hoped this journey would come to an end soon. He could hear Loki's stomach growling, and there was nothing Midgardsorm could do about it. He couldn't even fish.
He contented himself with marvelling at a new sensation he was experiencing. His body was shaking against his will, even when he tried his best to keep still. At first he was a little alarmed by it, but then he remembered that he had seen his mother and his siblings do this when they felt cold. It must be one of those warm-blooded things. As a snake, he would have simply felt sluggish and sleepy. Well, he was feeling sluggish and sleepy now, as well, but that was to be expected.
He didn't want to fall asleep, though. He was still afraid that he was dreaming and that if he fell asleep he would wake up back on the bottom of the sea, all alone. He wanted to cling to this reality and enjoy every moment of it.
Eventually, however, he could no longer fight it. He dozed on and off, reassured by the rocking motions of the boat that let him know he was still there, free, with his father. It was the best night he had had since his exile.
The morning wasn't as pleasant as he expected, though. Sure, the sun was rising with the promise of a warm day, but at the moment he was too busy worrying about his father. Spending the night on a boat hadn't done him any favours. He looked awfully pale and like he was going to be sick at any moment. Jormungand wished he had any idea how to help.
“Father, why don't you turn me back to normal? Now that I'm free, I could easily take you to the shore,” he finally dared say.
“Don't you think I'd already have done that if I could?” Loki snapped, making Jormungand flinch. “I don't have energy for that right now. And unless I get off this accursed boat and set foot on solid ground, I don't think I ever will again.”
Jormungand said nothing. He didn't know what he could possibly say to comfort Loki.
Suddenly, Loki's eyes were unfocused and Jormungand inwardly panicked at the thought that his father's condition had just got worse. However, before he could say or do anything, Loki leapt to his feet, almost losing balance and falling into the water in the process, and pointed at something in the distance behind his son.
“Is that a ship?!” he asked.
Midgardsorm tried to turn around in the indicated direction, but this body was so inflexible that he could barely look over his shoulder. Even so, he could indeed see a large vessel looming some distance away. After some squinting, he could also see another one, a smaller boat (though not as small as theirs) coming quickly in their direction.
“Finally! Help has arrived!” announced Loki, smiling for the first time. Then he fainted dead away.
xxx
There's more! I'll post the next chapter tomorrow.
This is a fic that I had already started a long time ago. You can read the beginning here.
I've also changed the title. "Reborn" kept making me think of Mafia babies.
He didn't know how many years he had been in this dark, cold prison. Many centuries, certainly. Maybe even millennia. Most of the time, he was barely conscious. In the beginning, he had been desperate to escape, to feel warmth once again, to see his family. When that had proved impossible, despite his impressive size and strength, he had been struck with grief. He wished he could have prayed for the gods to keep his family safe, if nothing else, but the gods were the ones who had taken his family apart in the first place...
He had never felt so alone then.
It had also brought up feelings he hadn't been very familiar with - anger and hatred. This was nothing compared to the annoyance he felt towards his siblings when they were being silly, or even the slight resentment towards his father for making his mother sad. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to hurt someone, to make them feel pain. He wanted to get revenge on those who had destroyed his and his family's lives. Of course, he still couldn't leave his prison and go after the culprits. All he could do was attack the boats and ships that dared come any close to him.
However, after some time, even those hateful feelings passed, leaving only loneliness. How he longed for some company, for someone who could talk to him or just stay by his side so he wouldn't forget himself and lose his sanity. It had come to the point where he would have even gladly accepted the company of the gods. Anyone would do. Whenever a boat strayed too close, he would try to approach it gently, but by then it seemed he had already grown a reputation, for people always panicked at the sight of him and fled. It didn't help that he had accidentally destroyed the boats in some of those attempts. Eventually, the boats stopped coming altogether. He had been left completely alone. Gods, giants, humans, even the fish - no one wanted to be anywhere near him. By now, he was resigned to spend the rest of his miserable existence alone.
Even as he accepted his fate, it didn't make the hollow feeling inside him go away.
It felt like an eternity had gone by when he finally sensed someone approaching him. A very small boat, lost in the sea. Whoever was on it had probably got carried away from the shores by the currents. (He dared not hope they had come just to see him. Not any more.) Curious, he wanted to take a look at them, but he had become so numb that it ended up as half-hearted attempt, at best, to break the surface. He sank back again and fell unconscious.
Midgardsorm...
So cold... so dark...
Midgardsorm...
So lonely...
Midgardsorm, wake up!
He started slightly, darkness dissolving into a blurry, bright shape right in front of him. He wanted to ask who was there, but couldn't find the strength to. Feebly, slowly, he managed to flick out his forked tongue, hoping to smell his visitor's nature and intentions. It was weak, but it was there. Much to his surprise, it smelled familiar. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it smelled like his...
Father...
This couldn't be right. His imagination had to be playing tricks on him. Why would his father be here? It was absurd. It made no sense. Jormungand focused on the bright figure floating before him, his sight becoming clearer little by little. Of course this wasn't his father; it was a child. Maybe one of Loki's god sons? But that made even less sense! Maybe he was just dreaming, after all. He was still sleeping in the cold, dark sea.
Midgardsorm, I need your help.
Mind as numb as his body, he didn't even stop to think why anyone would come all the way here to ask help from him of all creatures. All Jormungand thought in response to that was, I can't help you.
There was a pause, during which Jormungand almost fell back asleep.
Why won't you help me? Do you resent me?
Jormungand's distant heart suddenly ached like it hadn't in ages, the strongest feeling he experienced in a very long time. He wasn't really thinking about the words that invaded his mind, just responded naturally.
I can't help anyone.
Is your resentment that deep?
Resentment? What was this about resentment? Yes, he resented a lot of people, even though he no longer showed it openly. What difference did it make? All his resentment had ever done for him was confirm everyone's belief that he was a heartless monster that deserved to be imprisoned in a cold, dark place at the mercy of a cruel god who called himself the Defender of Justice.
I could never help anyone. Not even those dearest to me. I can't even help myself out of this prison. I'm useless. I have always been told so.
There was another pause, and then...
You're right, you can't help me if you are in this prison. You are useless to me in that form.
No matter how many times he was told that, it always hurt. His icy heart clenched again, but Jormungand tried to ignore it. He had already accepted his fate.
But if I get you out of here and give you the means, will you help me?
Although he didn't move a muscle, he inwardly smiled a rueful smile. On top of all things, he had to put up with this mockery from a mini Loki lookalike, or maybe he really was hallucinating, to hear something so outrageous. No one in all of the nine worlds, not even the trickster god Loki himself, would ever dare to openly defy Odin by setting the Midgard Serpent free - and for something as trivial and selfish as an exchange of favours, to boot.
If only it was true... If only it was possible... then yes, he would help. Or maybe he wouldn't be able to help, but he would do his best. Even if he had to sacrifice his life. He would do anything. He would worship the ground his saviour walked on. He would be eternally grateful and loyal. If only he could feel the warmth of the sun again, for even just a moment, he would follow anyone, even Thor, to the end.
Faintly, he thought he could see the glowing child smile briefly.
Very good. Now I'll cast a spell on you and you'll go on a journey with me.
The little boy closed his eyes and glowed brighter, completely blinding Midgardsorm for a moment. He felt his whole body tingle with a delicious warmth. The next thing he knew, the water was as agitated as during the worst storms.
And he was drowning.
oOo
When he came to, all was calm. It was cold and dark, but not nearly as much as he had grown used to. He looked up to see a darkening sky. He felt strange and deformed, not to mention light-weighted. He was lying on a hard surface, rocking up and down. Instinctively, he flicked his tongue out, but that, too, felt strange and he couldn't really smell anything.
“Oh, you're awake,” said a tired, boyish voice. Jormungand lifted his head from the hard surface it had been lying on and looked in the direction of the voice. There was someone right in front of him. The figure was blurry, but he recognized it all the same. It was that child, the one in his dream who resembled his father. Back then, he had been glowing like a god. Now, there was nothing godly about him. He looked weary, pale, and cranky.
Confused about what was going on (was he still dreaming?), he moved his head left and right, noting that they were on a small boat. After centuries of cold numbness, his brain was struggling to get fully back to work, but it could tell right away that there was something very wrong with this picture. He was a giant serpent, long enough to encircle Midgard. He couldn't possibly be sharing a small boat with a little boy.
“You'd better make use of that human form I gave you,” said the boy. “It took a lot of my magic, you know. Not to mention breaking the curse that kept you confined to the sea...”
“Human form?” Jormungand tried to ask, but the words came out wrong, almost unintelligible. His mouth felt too strange to form words properly. So, in silence, he just looked down at himself. True enough, instead of a huge, scaly body, he saw a scrawny, fragile-looking human body, dressed in modest clothes. It twitched as he tried to figure out how to move his new legs and arms. Moving them felt too strange, alien to his instincts. He felt as if they were going to start moving on their own and he couldn't control them, so he tried to keep still and returned his gaze to the child. There were so many things he wanted to ask, but he didn't even know where to start or if he would even be able to voice them.
“Don't worry, you'll get used to that body soon enough,” said the child. “I'll see to it that you learn to use it as quickly as possible. And then you'll be able to help me.”
Jormungand just stared at him, dazed. The boy narrowed his eyes, apparently offended at the lack of response.
“You will help me, won't you? You must!” he said, accusingly. “I'm your father! I got you out of the sea!”
Jormungand just kept staring in astonishment. It was just now beginning to dawn on him that, yes, he was out of the sea. After ages, he was finally free. If this was a dream, he didn't want to ever wake up. But somehow, he knew for sure now that this was no dream.
Jormungand said nothing. He didn't even care to make sure that this snappish child was really his father. All that mattered was that this boy had saved him, and Jormungand decided right there and then that his life and soul belonged to him. If this really was his father, that only made it better. As a child, he had always wished to prove his worth to his father - that had been, of course, before he had realised he was worthless - but now his father was giving him another chance. He couldn't mess up this time. He would work hard to achieve whatever was asked of him.
“Well?” prompted the child, impatient.
“O-of course I will help you,” Jormungand replied, struggling to form the words. “Anything. I'll do anything you want.
Even though his sight was still quite blurry, he could see the boy narrow his eyes at him.
“Um, thank you for getting me out of the sea,” Jormungand tried to add, hoping to appease him.
The boy stared him for another moment, then nodded and seemed to relax marginally.
Silence fell upon them. Instinctively, Jormungand tried to coil up, an old nervous habit. But in this form, all he succeeded at was twitching awkwardly, still unused to his new body.
“A-are you really my father?” he asked, feeling unsure of himself.
“Can't you tell by looking at me?” was the curt answer.
Jormungand suddenly felt his face warm up. What a strange sensation. He wondered if this was normal, or if there was something wrong with this body. Still, the warmth was pleasant after centuries of icy cold, and it helped soothe the shame he felt. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to recognize his father by sight alone when everything looked so blurry and he was deprived of his excellent sense of smell. Was this how human bodies worked? He suddenly felt sorry for them.
He wasn't sure how to feel about being in his father's presence for the first time since before his exile to Midgard. He wanted to ask if Loki knew what had happened to their family. He had heard rumours, but he wanted to know if they were true, if his mother and his siblings were all right. He was also curious as to why in the nine worlds his father had taken the form of a child. He also wanted to know why they were aimlessly floating on a small boat in the middle of the sea. Why wouldn't Loki teleport or fly them out of here? However, he felt this was not the time to pester Loki with questions, especially when he already seemed to be in such a foul mood. Thus, he settled with the one question he felt was only to be expected in this situation:
“So, what do you wish me to do to help you?”
Loki remained in sullen silent for a moment longer before answering, “I just need your assistance while I'm in this form.”
Jormungand nodded. It was a vague answer, but he figured that it was just that simple. It wasn't his place to question. If Loki needed something specific, all he had to do was say it.
He began to worry a little when Loki started grumbling to himself.
“Maybe I should have left you in your true form,” he muttered. “At least until we reached the shore. You could have just given me a ride there.”
Jormungand shifted, trying to coil up again and this time succeeding at getting into a human foetal position of sorts. He wasn't sure what his father was thinking, but it sounded like he already regretted giving him a human form. Maybe he had just realised that Midgardsorm would be even more useless in a weak body he couldn't control. What if he never learnt to control it? If he couldn't learn how to speak properly, or walk, or even stand up on two feet, wouldn't he be even more useless than when he was a serpent? What if Loki realised that and decided he didn't need him, after all? Would he throw him back into the sea again? And why in the nine worlds were they still on this boat?!
Again, he couldn't bring himself to voice any of these questions or doubts. He trusted his father to know what he was doing. He would patiently wait to see how things were going to develop from here. Surely Loki didn't plan on drifting around on this boat forever?
oOo
Night had fallen and it was cold and dark again. The difference now was that he knew the sun would rise soon enough, bringing its wonderful warmth with it, and that he wasn't alone any more. Granted, his company had fallen asleep on him, but it was still better than the utter loneliness of the ocean. He wasn't sure how long they had been drifting, but he hoped this journey would come to an end soon. He could hear Loki's stomach growling, and there was nothing Midgardsorm could do about it. He couldn't even fish.
He contented himself with marvelling at a new sensation he was experiencing. His body was shaking against his will, even when he tried his best to keep still. At first he was a little alarmed by it, but then he remembered that he had seen his mother and his siblings do this when they felt cold. It must be one of those warm-blooded things. As a snake, he would have simply felt sluggish and sleepy. Well, he was feeling sluggish and sleepy now, as well, but that was to be expected.
He didn't want to fall asleep, though. He was still afraid that he was dreaming and that if he fell asleep he would wake up back on the bottom of the sea, all alone. He wanted to cling to this reality and enjoy every moment of it.
Eventually, however, he could no longer fight it. He dozed on and off, reassured by the rocking motions of the boat that let him know he was still there, free, with his father. It was the best night he had had since his exile.
The morning wasn't as pleasant as he expected, though. Sure, the sun was rising with the promise of a warm day, but at the moment he was too busy worrying about his father. Spending the night on a boat hadn't done him any favours. He looked awfully pale and like he was going to be sick at any moment. Jormungand wished he had any idea how to help.
“Father, why don't you turn me back to normal? Now that I'm free, I could easily take you to the shore,” he finally dared say.
“Don't you think I'd already have done that if I could?” Loki snapped, making Jormungand flinch. “I don't have energy for that right now. And unless I get off this accursed boat and set foot on solid ground, I don't think I ever will again.”
Jormungand said nothing. He didn't know what he could possibly say to comfort Loki.
Suddenly, Loki's eyes were unfocused and Jormungand inwardly panicked at the thought that his father's condition had just got worse. However, before he could say or do anything, Loki leapt to his feet, almost losing balance and falling into the water in the process, and pointed at something in the distance behind his son.
“Is that a ship?!” he asked.
Midgardsorm tried to turn around in the indicated direction, but this body was so inflexible that he could barely look over his shoulder. Even so, he could indeed see a large vessel looming some distance away. After some squinting, he could also see another one, a smaller boat (though not as small as theirs) coming quickly in their direction.
“Finally! Help has arrived!” announced Loki, smiling for the first time. Then he fainted dead away.
xxx
There's more! I'll post the next chapter tomorrow.