Chapter Text
In the High Mountains of Asgard, there once lived a dragon.
It was a foul and vicious dragon, as all beasts are.
Some say it is in their nature to be so, others that it is their immortal life of solitude that turns them into such malevolent creatures.
If you asked Loki, there was little to gain from trying to understand a being that had rejected any attempt at making peace and brought nothing but terror to his kingdom.
All that mattered to him was that it disappeared.
The dragon guarded the High Mountains as its territory, killing anyone who dared to enter its grounds – be it a brave warrior hoping to make their kingdom proud or a mere child that had wandered into the forest, unaware of what horror awaited them behind the inviting greenery.
The mountain range ran along the northern and only land border the kingdom of Asgard had, effectively cutting the peninsula off from the rest of the world.
Trade was possible via the sea routes, but when an especially harsh winter had caused even the sea to freeze, supplies had quickly been used up and famine had swept across the lands.
No one had been left unaffected.
The warmth of spring may have come, but the people still whispered their fears over another such winter among themselves, and though none quite dared to say it out loud, one thing was clear: King Odin could not allow the tragedy to repeat itself.
The dragon had to die.
~
Loki smiled as he looked over the arena. The knights were trading fierce blows, the sounds of clashing metal nearly drowned out by the cheers from the crowd. Like a dance, they stepped around each other, their movement graceful despite how heavy the armors encasing them were.
A sharp exchange sent clouds of dust into the air, and for a brief moment, the knights were obscured from the hundreds of eyes following the final battle of the tournament.
His father had instructed Loki to find the fiercest knight in Asgard, one capable of a feat none had accomplished before. He had tested the strength of many, but he had long known it would be Anthony Howardson – son of the famed weaponsmith and the person Loki was fortunate enough to call Tony – that would stand victorious.
He was proven right when the cloud of dust settled.
Tony stood proud and tall, his silver armor gleaming in the sun, while the other knight lay defeated on the ground.
Roaring cheers erupted from the crowd. Tony raised his arms high, tearing off his helmet to soak in the praise with a shout of triumph. And while Loki did not cheer as the common folk did, the corner of his mouth twitched upward all the same.
After the moment of celebration, Tony stepped toward the royal seats. He went down on one knee and bowed.
“My king. My queen.” He lifted his head and looked at Loki. His cheeks were flushed, and his smile was so warm that it seemed unable to contain itself to his features, crawling into Loki’s chest until he, too, felt flushed. “My prince.”
“Anthony Howardson,” Loki called. The crowd went quiet, but the air was filled with giddy anticipation. “Are you willing to fight for Asgard and lead the best of our kingdom into battle against the wicked dragon?”
Tony took another step forward until he bowed directly at Loki’s feet. Loki reached out with his hand, and Tony pressed a kiss against its back – so very gentle compared to the brute strength he had shown mere moments prior.
“It would be my honor.”
~
Two months, two weeks, and two days was the time it took for a brigade of knights to be found, trained, and prepared to follow Tony’s lead into battle.
Loki oversaw everything closely. He planned strategies alongside Tony, discussed them with his father and the royal advisors, and spent weeks in the library reading through every book that might contain a hint to the dragon’s weaknesses. He had done everything in his power, and now, it was finally here: The last night the kingdom would ever have to fear the beast.
Loki was sitting in an armchair with a book in his hand, though he hadn’t been able to read a single word. He was brimming with anxiety, and even the soft crackling of the fireplace wasn’t enough to ease it.
Too much depended on tomorrow. Too much could go wrong, and his brain seemed intent on showing him every one of those dark possibilities instead of letting him find any rest.
A soft knock rang through the air.
Loki put down the book and straightened his posture. “Yes?” he called.
The door to his chambers opened. Tony came into view, still wearing his armor, even this late. Perhaps he too had trouble falling asleep and had opted to train until the very last minute.
Loki’s face lit up with a smile. “Tony, come in.”
Tony bowed. “My prince.”
Loki rolled his eyes, but the gesture was laced with fondness. “I told you to call me Loki.”
“Loki.”
The smile on Loki's face widened. It wasn’t that he didn't like his title, but he enjoyed the intimacy of his own name. Especially when it came from Tony.
The knight stepped into the room, but instead of coming to sit on the sofa like he often had when they had talked for hours about strategies for the battle or sauntering to the armchair he so loved to lounge in, he walked closer until he stood right in front of Loki.
Loki frowned. Something about the man seemed… off.
His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, and his eyes danced across the room, landing on anything but Loki’s face. It was rare to see Tony uncertain, and even rarer was it to see him nervous.
“Look at me,” Loki demanded, and Tony did. “What ails you so?”
Tony’s mouth opened and closed. Never had Loki seen him behave like this. Concern fluttered through his stomach, and he was just about to repeat his plea when Tony sucked in a heavy breath and went down on one knee.
“Allow me to slay the dragon. Allow me to free your kingdom of the beast that has terrorized it for generations.” He looked up at Loki, his eyes reflecting the fireplace and making them look alive with flames. “And let it be my first gift of courtship towards you.” He lowered his gaze. “Will you accept, my prince?”
Loki put his hand on Tony’s head and stroked through the soft strands. His heart was racing as though it might leap from his chest, but his voice was steady and certain. “I will.”
~
In the early morning the group of knights began their journey towards the High Mountains. The king himself accompanied them, as did cheers of encouragement from the people gathered along the road. They waved their handkerchiefs in the air and looked up with wide eyes at those who would bring them their long-awaited freedom.
Loki rode alongside his father, back straight, head held high and anxiety-induced nausea simmering in his stomach.
The mountain range loomed in the distance, growing taller and taller until it seemed to encase the entire sky. A dense forest covered the base, but the higher the altitude, the more scarce the vegetation became until it was nothing but barren rocks with a few lone shrubs scattered across. Some of the highest peaks of the mountains held snow, even in summer.
How beautiful they could be if only it weren’t for the beast guarding them.
The group came to a halt at the edge of the forest, and Tony turned his horse around. His silver armor was polished to the point of reflecting its surroundings, and a sword forged by his father rested heavy on his hip.
“My king.” Tony’s eyes trailed from Odin to Loki, softening with affection. “My prince.” He looked over the other knights and people accompanying them. “My kingdom. The next time you see me, I will come bearing the dragon's head.”
“May the gods lead you to victory,” Odin said. He bowed his head ever so slightly, and the servants around them followed suit. Loki too bowed his head, but his eyes never left Tony. The knight showed none of the nervousness of the previous night, and while that should reassure Loki, his own anxiety refused to ease.
A last few words of encouragement were exchanged and already the knights were spurring on their horses and riding into the forest. A group of servants and doctors would make camp here, ready with medical aid and food once they returned from the battle, but the royal group, including Loki and his father, was supposed to return to the palace.
Still, Loki lingered. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the forest Tony had disappeared into. The branches swayed in the wind, as if challenging him to dare take a look behind their cover.
Odin noticed his hesitancy. “My son? Is there something holding you back?”
Loki swallowed heavily, trying to steel his voice into confidence. “Let me stand post here, father. The knights deserve to be greeted by the crown after their battle.”
His father nodded. He put a hand on Loki’s shoulder and his thumb brushed his neck, a gesture he had made frequently when Loki had still been but a boy.
“Let us hope for his safe return.”
The warmth of his father’s approval filled Loki’s chest, but it could not push away the unease that gnawed at him. He once again looked at the forest the brigade of knights had disappeared into.
Tony was strong, the strongest of the kingdom, and yet Loki’s heart ached with worry. He longed to know how far into the forest they had ridden: if they were already climbing up the steep mountainside, horses bound to trees and weapons in their hands, or if they were still navigating the unknown wilderness, riding along rivers and following the sun’s compass.
Time passed.
It could not have been more than a few hours, but to Loki it felt like an eternity.
He couldn't sit still. He paced through the small camp and chewed at his fingernails until the skin ripped and he had to suck away the blood.
He needed to see the dragon's head fall off its shoulders with his own eyes, needed to know that the knights had been victorious – that Tony had been victorious.
He stopped his pacing and took a cautious look around. The camp was still busy, even if most of the movement stemmed from people being as anxious as Loki himself felt. Herbs were recounted and rearranged, checklists everyone had long memorized were gone through again, and when there was nothing left to do, the servants talked among themselves about the most mundane topics to counter the silence.
But most importantly, no one was paying any attention to him.
He swung himself onto his horse and rode into the forest. The tree branches tugged and tore at his clothes like claws trying to keep him out, but Loki spurred his horse onward, and once he pushed past the initial barrier, a gorgeous forest greeted him. He rode alongside a glistening river, saw vibrant flowers on green meadows, and passed by bushes filled with berries that promised sweetness as much as an untimely end. And yet again, anger rose in him over all this beauty having been denied to the kingdom it belonged to.
He followed the trail of hoofprints, and it didn’t take long to find the knights’ hitched-up horses. A stable boy stood with them, and his eyes widened in surprise when he noticed who it was that jumped from their horse and handed him the reins.
“But Your Highness, you mustn’t–”
“I must,” Loki cut in, leaving no room for any argument. “Take good care of her.”
He gave his horse a pat on its snout before continuing onward by foot. The mountainside was steep, and vegetation became sparse the higher he climbed, offering no shelter against the biting wind. It tore at his hair and sent shivers down his spine where it hit the beads of sweat on his skin.
A particularly rough spot caused a rock to tumble under his feet, and Loki lost his footing, barely catching himself before he would have crashed to his knees. He took a slow breath, fighting against the fatigue in his legs…and it was then that he heard it.
A roar.
Loki picked up his pace, half stumbling, half running up the mountain. He didn’t care that he cut his palms on the sharp rocks or that his clothing ripped when it caught on scrawny bushes. All he cared about was the ever-growing roaring of the beast.
Soon the sounds of fighting joined it, louder and louder, until the dragon’s cave finally came into view.
Loki came to a halt, his breath hitching.
Bodies littered the ground.
They were burned and torn apart as if the armors they had worn had been made of mere paper. Months Loki had spent training these knights, and now he could not even recognize their faces anymore. The awful, sweet smell of burned meat wafted through the air, and Loki pressed his hands to his mouth to stop himself from pouring the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He couldn’t break now, no, not when none of the bodies on the ground wore the polished armor of the man he loved.
Tony had to still be here.
He had to still be standing, still fighting.
Please, Loki prayed to any gods that might listen. Please let him be alive. Please do not take him from me.
He stumbled onward, ignoring how his legs burned from exertion and how every breath of air brought the stench of death with it. He had read countless descriptions of the beast and seen a multitude of illustrations, but none of them could have prepared him for what he saw as he finally found the source of bloodshed.
The dragon stood as tall as a house, its wings reaching into the sky and casting the ground below in darkness. Its scales were of a brown color – ugly and bestial like its reptilian eyes and twisted horns.
It threw back its neck and roared in contempt. The ground shook, rocks tumbled down the mountainside, and even standing safely a dozen meters behind the dragon, a primal fear gripped Loki.
How could anyone ever hope to slay such a monster? How could they have been so foolish as to even try?
Loki sucked in a deep breath, steading his racing heart. He couldn’t let the panic win.
On closer inspection, he noticed that several spears had torn through the webbing of the dragon’s wings, and a long cut on its side was gushing blood onto the ground.
But most importantly, there was a group of knights still standing in front of it.
The fight was not over yet.
The air prickled with heat, and a burst of flames engulfed the knights. Loki’s breath caught in his throat, but a raised shield had blocked the attack. As the shield was lowered, it was none other than Tony who came into view. He raised his sword and charged at the beast, ramming it into its side before jumping back to evade a strike from its claws. The knight's armor was drenched in blood, and some of the plates had been torn to expose vulnerable flesh. Half of his face was visible and his eyes burned with vigor.
Relief and distress alike filled Loki.
The number of people still fighting alongside Tony was small, and the dragon was wise to keep them contained in front of it, protecting its backside and preventing any flanking manoeuvres.
But here was Loki, unaccounted for, standing right behind it and looking at the long tail twitching from side to side.
He was no warrior. Even as a child he had preferred to watch his friends wrestle while he sat to the side and tripped one of them up when they least expected it.
But when he saw Tony, bloody and beaten, facing the dragon as if he held the strength of an entire army in him, a great sense of courage overcame him.
“Look at me, you beast!” Loki shouted with all that his lungs had to offer. He tore his dagger from its sheath and rammed it into the dragon’s tail.
The dragon screeched in pain. It whipped around and its reptile eyes zeroed in on Loki. It opened its mouth, fire gathering in the back of its throat, and Loki stood frozen.
He knew what fate awaited him.
But before it could send a burst of flames toward him, a sword was rammed through its head. The silver blade dug in between its horns and hardened scales through the softer, vulnerable spot Loki had found out about in weeks of research.
It let out an awful, gurgling sound, eyes rolling back into its head and blood trickling out of its mouth. It threw its head back in an attempt to shake Tony off, but the knight only dug the sword deeper and twisted it.
And although it was a monster, although it had been the kingdom's source of terror for centuries and cost uncountable people their lives, as the light started to leave its eyes an eerie sense of pity washed over Loki.
He could not explain where it came from, could not rationalize why his chest ached so strongly when he saw the dim, half-lidded eyes finally close, and its head drop to the floor with a dull thud. But when a loud cheer, equal horror and triumph, tore itself from the man who had brought about the beast's end, the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come.
All that was left was utter relief.
“Tony!” Loki shouted, his legs stumbling forward on their own. “Tony!”
Tony jumped down from the dragon’s head. He swayed, and Loki grasped him, keeping him steady.
“I did it,” Tony mumbled.
Loki flung his arms around the man. The armor was far too big and clunky for a real embrace and the blood clinging to it was hot and sticky. But he didn't care. All he cared about was that Tony was safe – alive – and the dragon gone.
“Yes, Tony. You did it.”
“I did it. We did it,” Tony repeated, and although the grief and horror of watching his comrades fall in battle was still etched deep into his features and the air stank of death and misery, his eyes were as bright as the future of the kingdom. “The dragon is slain!”
~
The feast they held at the palace lasted for weeks. People across the kingdom celebrated the knight who had freed them and devoted their thanks to the prince who had proven himself in a great act of selfless bravery.
No longer were fearful whispers exchanged among the folk. The dragon started to turn into a cautionary tale, a being of bedtime stories that brought no more harm to the living than a bad nightmare would. Its head was mounted on the wall above the throne, a reminder not of its horror but of the kingdom's triumph over it.
Tony was made for this, Loki thought as he watched him stand amid the people. He soaked up their praise and enjoyed being the center of attention. But it was only when he looked at Loki that his smile curled just a bit higher and his eyes shone that much brighter.
Tony may have been regarded by the people like he was a god himself, but when he came to Loki’s chambers that night, he was on his knees and kissed the back of his hand.
“The dragon is gone,” Tony whispered, his voice barely louder than the crackling of the fireplace. “Let it be the first proof of my devotion toward you.”
Loki hooked his finger under Tony’s chin and made the knight look up at him. Oh, how warm those eyes were, how deep the affection ran.
“The first proof?” Loki laughed. “Come, stand up.”
“My prince?”
“You have freed my kingdom. What greater proof could you ever give me?”
Loki smiled, and his chest was too full, and even if it might not be the norm for a courtship, he pulled Tony up until he could claim the lips of his kingdom's liberator.
~
Word of the dragon’s death spread quickly. It still took a while for merchants to dare make their way through the mountains, but after the first groups successfully made the trip, a busy route was quickly established. Trees were cut to make way for a new road that meandered along the valleys, and signs pointing towards the kingdom of Asgard were erected along those new paths. Children played in the meadows, cooks collected mushrooms and berries for their newest dishes, and hunters brought home deer to sell at the market, while smoked meats promised to keep bellies full even during harsh winters.
Asgard was thriving.
But when something was thriving, it also needed tending, and with the new trade routes now established, many visitors were eager to see what treasures Asgard had to offer.
And though Loki was glad for it, today he rather wished he could stay in his lover's arms for a little longer.
“Didn't you say you were excited to greet the king from the north?”
Loki groaned and buried his face deeper in the crook of Tony’s neck.
Tony laughed, and the vibration from it echoed against Loki’s chest. “I cannot say I don't share the sentiment, my prince.”
“Loki. It’s Loki.”
“Loki.”
He may not be able to see it, but he could hear the smile in Tony’s voice.
“Sometimes I wish I had a sibling that could take at least half of the work,” he mumbled against Tony’s skin.
“I fear I cannot help you in encouraging your parents in such activities.”
Loki winced. “Must you ruin a perfectly fine morning?”
Tony laughed once again. It was a rumbling, carefree sound, as all of their days now were. Tony's hand was stroking his back, warm and firm and just perfect. His skin was smoother, marked with fewer calluses after daily drills had turned into weekly training.
Loki liked it.
Sometimes he wished the knight would lay off the fighting altogether and just stay by his side, but those were the wishes of Loki and not the wishes of Asgard’s prince, who knew his talent was needed to ensure the safety of the kingdom.
“Come,” Tony urged with a gentle push against his side. “You better strike us a good deal. I heard they have ores in their mines that can be forged into all but impenetrable armors.”
Loki sighed dramatically. “If you so wish.”
He untangled himself from Tony’s embrace and stretched his arms above his head, showing off the lines of his bare torso. Usually it was enough to distract Tony from any of his thoughts, but today it only earned him a poke into his side.
“Stop trying to distract me,” Tony grumbled.
Loki shrugged. “It was worth a try.” He scratched at his elbow and frowned.
“Is something the matter?” Tony asked.
Loki craned his neck but couldn’t find the source of discomfort. “It is itchy.”
“Show me.”
Loki lifted his elbow. Tony furrowed his brows and stroked across the spot. The touch felt oddly distant, as if a layer of invisible clothing was still draped over his skin.
“It seems a bit dry. Perhaps you had forgotten to drink enough,” Tony murmured. His fingers trailed lower, and once they reached Loki’s forearm, the sensation vanished. “I heard they now have lotions made of silk flowers at the markets. I will look for them.”
Loki smiled and pressed a kiss against his lover's cheek. “Thank you.”
Another absent-minded scratch to his elbow, and Loki started his day.
His schedule was packed. While many hoped to strike favourable deals with Asgard, many also believed the royal court naive in their lack of experience, and often enough, merchants tried to swindle them. But Loki had always been good at reading people, and each time he uncovered another attempt at deception, his father’s eyes would warm and fill him with pride.
“You’ll make a fine king one day,” his father told him that evening.
And no matter how tiring the negotiations with the diplomats of the north had been, the words rang in Loki’s ears and gave him all the strength he needed to get through the day.
Tony, too, was busy. Many wanted to hear the tale of the battle firsthand from the man who had become a legend, and he was invited to even the farthest corners of the kingdom. Some even came seeking council from other kingdoms, hoping he could aid them with their own monstrous beasts.
A bit of envy clung to Loki for those who spent so much time with his lover when he himself could not spend every night in his arms, but no matter how many people Tony was surrounded by, as soon as Loki stepped into the room, his eyes were solely on him, and that was all Loki needed.
~
Loki’s head was pounding after the meeting. It wasn't that it hadn’t been interesting; the prospect of trade with the vast lands of the east and their promising goods of wheat was certainly of importance. Their rulers had been in a good mood as well, and his father had praised him with pride-filled eyes for managing to strike a favorable deal with them.
And yet, when it came to the pleasantries of sharing a meal and drink with the guests, Loki had smiled and politely excused himself.
He closed the doors to his chambers and sighed. Finally the noises of the palace were dampened, and the pain in his head receded to a distant throbbing. He sank into his armchair and considered having a servant bring him a cup of tea, but the prospect of hearing yet another person’s voice made him quickly abandon the thought.
Absentmindedly, he scratched at his elbow. The spot had been itching for a few days now, even with the lotion Tony had brought him, and while the sensation itself was nothing unusual, something about it made him falter.
His skin felt…wrong.
Even through the fabric of his clothes, it was far too harsh, not giving way like his flesh usually would. He poked at it again and again, but the sensation didn’t disappear.
A terrible sense of dread came over him.
He rushed to the mirror, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers until the fabric fell and pooled around his feet. He lifted his elbow and what he saw made him gasp in terror.
His skin had turned black. Spreading out from his elbow, all the way to the middle of his forearm, his skin had darkened to an awful tone lacking any warmth.
No, it was not even skin anymore that he saw.
As though trapped in a terrible nightmare, he turned his arm to the side and watched the small, overlapping plates glisten in a faint, almost metallic green.
The pain in his head came back so strong, he feared it may explode.
They looked like the scales of a dragon.
~
Loki did not show them to anyone. He made sure to wear only long-sleeved clothing and dismissed any servant that wished to help him dress. He lay in Tony’s arms but made sure not to initiate any intimacy that could make him drop his guard and reveal the monstrous skin that was slowly spreading across his body. His knees showed the same scales, smaller still, but with every passing day they grew further, and further, like the unhinged jaws of a monster waiting to swallow him whole.
“They invited me and the other knights I fought with to travel the kingdom,” Tony said.
They were on the sofa in Loki’s chambers, Loki sitting and Tony stretched out with his head resting on his lap.
“You deserve the praise of the people.” Loki smiled, but like most of his smiles these days, it was a strain to uphold.
“The trip would last longer than just a week.” Tony paused and licked his lips. “You could come with us. Many would love to hear from you as well.”
“Ah, I wish I could, but I am much too busy, I’m afraid.” It was not a lie, but it wasn't entirely the truth either. Travelling through the kingdom, sharing beds and bathrooms with his lover was all too much of a risk when the scales had still not stopped growing on his body. Luckily Tony didn't seem to notice anything.
He just looked up at Loki and scrunched his nose in a way that was entirely too adorable for the fierce knight that he was. “Just what would Odin do without you?”
“Do not tell him I said so, but I fear Asgard would have ended up with far less gold in its treasury.”
Tony laughed lowly. He reached out with his hand and cupped Loki’s cheek. “Don't work too hard.”
Loki nuzzled into the contact. “Someone has to keep the kingdom running.”
Tony pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were soft and warm and familiar in all the right ways. Loki would have been content just kissing him like this for hours, but Tony wasn't satisfied. He moved until he was no longer lying in Loki’s lap, but straddling him instead. Loki buried his hands in his hair and pulled him close until they were flush against each other.
“I’ll miss you,” Tony whispered against his lips.
“I’ll miss you too,” Loki replied.
Tony mouthed at Loki’s jaw and trailed kisses down his neck, and Loki was so transfixed on his touch that he barely noticed Tony’s hands sneaking lower. They wandered up his sides and pushed open the buttons of his shirt. They remained there for a moment, a warm and solid weight against his cool skin before they moved to his shoulders to push off the rest of his fabric.
With a jolt Loki came back to his senses.
“Stop!” Loki called, and Tony stilled.
He pulled back and looked at him questioningly. Desire burned in Loki, and he wanted nothing more than to give in to the touch of his lover, but the shame of what he was hiding was far too great.
“I– I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Not today.”
“Oh.” The frown stayed on Tony’s face a moment longer. Then the lines of his face eased. “Of course,” Tony replied. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Loki wished the ground would swallow him whole.
~
The scales continued to grow.
And Loki was worried, yes, but he was also busy. His princely duties demanded him at his father’s side – deals had to be struck, allies made, and differences overcome. The horror of the scales’ existence pulsed in the back of his mind, but he simply had no time to think further about them. A small part of him still believed that they might just disappear with time, revealing themselves to have been just a bad dream all along.
But if it were truly so, Loki was not granted the pleasure of waking from it.
One day before Tony was to return from his trip, Loki woke up with an awful headache. It felt as if his very skull had been split open. He groaned and buried his face in the pillows, hoping their softness would somehow alleviate his pain, yet with every passing minute, it only grew worse.
He threw himself onto his back and moved to push the hair out of his face, but when his fingers went to his forehead, his heart stopped. He stumbled out of the bed and to the mirror, thinking perhaps that he was still caught in a bad dream but his reflection confirmed what he had felt.
Two horns had grown on top of his head.
They were small, barely peeking out from his tousled hair, but they were undeniably there.
His hand trembled as he reached for them, and for a moment he thought his fingers would pass right through them. But then he felt them. Not just the horned surface under his fingers, no, he felt the very fingers themselves with the horns that now belonged to his body.
He dropped to his knees and screamed.
Loki did not leave his quarters that day. Luckily no suspicion came his way after he cancelled the meeting with one of the lesser guests from the north. He sent away any servant that tried to look after him and ate in the confines of his room instead of joining his parents for dinner.
Just thinking of telling someone of the monstrous growths on his body filled his stomach with enough dread that he brought half his dinner back up. But no matter how much he wished to pretend this wasn’t happening, he knew he could no longer sit idle. He waited in his room, body alight with terror, until the sun had crept past the horizon. Then, he pulled a hood over his head and left his chambers. He sneaked through the empty halls, and despite everything, once he stepped into the library, an immediate sense of comfort filled him. He looked around for the man guarding the space Loki had spent most of his childhood in.
“Librarian,” Loki called. The man – stocky and short, with little more than a single tuft of hair remaining atop his head – scurried over. “Show me every book you have regarding the dragon that lived in the High Mountains.”
The librarian bowed. If he was surprised by Loki’s late visit, he didn't show it. “Of course, my prince.”
Loki was led to the same book shelf he had frequented many weeks ago when he had combed through all of Asgard's knowledge in hopes of finding something that would aid them in battle against the dragon. He pulled out the familiar books and started skimming through them once again.
Many of them were little more than tales immortalized on paper rather than factual information. Only distant torches illuminated the library at this hour, but Loki saw the words as clearly as he would have if the light were coming from the high windows as it did during the day.
He read and read, combing through all the passages that might discuss the topic, and still found nothing. Agitation bubbled up in him, but just as he was about to slam yet another book closed, his eyes fell on a footnote. It was small; a short string of words that could so easily be missed by anyone who picked up the book – yet it held much more worth than any of the bold letters on the page.
As referenced in the encyclopedia of dragons.
Loki's eyes darted over the stack of books, but he already knew it would not be among them.
“Librarian,” he called.
The man hurried over, his shuffling steps suddenly all too loud in the quiet library. “Yes, my prince?”
“I wish to read the encyclopedia of dragons.”
The librarian’s eyes widened until they appeared to bulge out of his head. “Oh, my prince, I fear these books are forbidden.”
“Books? There are multiple?”
The man shrunk in on himself and vehemently shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I cannot. They are forbidden. Not to be read.”
“Show them to me.”
“Your Highness, you must understand, I–”
“I am your prince, and you will obey me!” Loki snapped. For a moment something akin to fear flashed on the librarian's face. Though as quickly as it had come, it disappeared and left behind something Loki almost thought to be pity. His fingers darted to the hood above his head, but it was secured tightly in place.
The librarian bowed deeply. “Follow me.”
Loki had grown up in the library, but even he did not know where the man was leading him. It was as though the labyrinth of bookshelves was being shifted by magic, winding and reshaping until Loki did not recognize his surroundings anymore. A sense of awe came over him as he looked at the rows of old tomes with foreign letters on their spines and the color long faded from their covers.
Just how long had they been sitting here to collect all that dust?
The librarian did not meet his eyes when they stopped at the very last shelf in the hallway. “Here, my prince.”
Loki nodded. Three volumes made up the encyclopedia of dragons. He pulled out the first one, blew away the layer of dust, and began reading.
With every word he devoured, more disbelief filled him. He couldn't fathom why these books had been hidden, dubbed even forbidden, when their contents could have greatly aided them in their quest against the dragon. Everything about its nature was neatly documented on the pages, from habits to weaknesses to internal biology, gods, even the way dragons mated was described.
Loki skimmed over the pages, trying so desperately to find an answer to the question he did not dare formulate. As he pushed past yet another page, his eyes fell on a string of cursive letters, so innocent in their looks but so grave in their content.
A dragon's essence is immortal; its fire cannot be extinguished.
Loki frowned and continued reading.
Even if its form is slain, it will not rest. It will find a new host in the eyes of its last gaze, for there will always be a dragon in the High Mountains.
Loki almost dropped the book. He reread the words over and over again, but they did not change.
There will always be a dragon in the High Mountains.
It took every bit of his composure to tuck the books under his arm and face the librarian. “Thank you for your aid. I have found what I was looking for.” His voice was trembling, but it was nothing compared to the terror rocking through him.
“These books are not for taking,” the man reminded him again, but he did not carry much conviction. If anything, he sounded sad.
“I will return them to you, you have my word,” Loki promised. He tightened his grip on them. “But for now, I have need of them.”
The librarian nodded, and this time Loki was certain it was pity shining in his eyes. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Loki all but ran to his quarters. There had to be more to the secret he had uncovered, and most importantly: there had to be a way to stop it.