Matthew Mair

School: Banchory Academy, Aberdeenshire


Winters Hold sat atop the mountain, layers upon layers of improbability. As if time and space had been warped to fit it all into the small space it took up.

Atop the Winters Hold stood Loki, weak and unstable despite the obvious connotation of power; him staring down on his troops.
There were polar bears and wolves conversing; draped in armour. Then towering over them were Frost Giants: huge mammoths of ice and rock and crudely melded body parts. As if the side of a mountain had risen up and walked.
Here they had gathered at the foot of Winters Hold, awaiting instructions from him, Loki.

Despite his malicious intent; that held nothing back from the sick wrongness of this, that even he felt.
But then he dismissed it.
If everything worked out today- Ragnarok began.
And then nothing would matter.

Loki came off the pinnacle - into a place secluded and private.
Is it my fault?
Ever since Time began, Ragnarok was destined to destroy everything. He knew as soon as he was an adult that was his destiny. No matter how hard he tried - if he tried to avoid it - then it would have found a different way to happen.
All the small things had been leading up to this.
Like building a toy tower with Thor (at this a tear did fall) brick by brick he was built for this.
The small things.
At the start it was the small things that made Loki know he was different.
He and Thor would play together and all was well. They had the innocence of children and Loki idolised his big brother (at this thought Loki smiled: a god having an idol!) but something was amiss. Not quite right.
The wariness he was treated with by the other gods for starters. He was sure the others didn't mean it; it was subconscious. (He told himself.)
-Thor looks awful like his father.
-So my boy, when will you kill your first giant.
These comments were made with the deliberate twist of the eye away from Loki.
Thor found Loki annoying, like many an older brother-  due to the almost copycat way Loki followed him.
By thirteen, Loki noticed the favouritism shown to Thor, as the threat from the giants became more prominent.
And then they mocked Loki; not in a cruel way. It was just relentless teasing and humiliation.
He accompanied Thor to his first battle, at the age of fifteen.
It was simply to stop the teasing:
-you chicken
-you coward
-better make sure there's nothing lurking beneath your bed when we're out fighting giants, we won't be able to help you.
So, in armour too big for him he marched to war.
It was in Jotunheim, at night, and small flickers of flame were only half seeable in the fug that covered the battlefield.
The first volley of arrows launched.
Thor took off-
Loki took off-
One engaged in the enemy the other crouched behind a rock which was behind trees…far from the battlefield as possible.
When the snow was scarlet and crows were feasting Loki made his way through the carnage.
He heard screams.
Thor didn't only kill the warriors; he killed their family and took their possessions.
That night Thor walked around in the halls of Asgard - his hammer Mjölnir waved arrogantly. Loki sat, staring at his own reflection in the mead cup.
Soon attention was drawn to him.
-Here he is chicken hearted and weak stomached.
-If he was a mortal he would be a disgrace and not even get into Valhalla.
No. There is a difference between war and murder. And today Thor crossed the line. Yet Loki kept the thoughts to himself.

That was until he fell in love.
By seventeen he was meeting Sif nightly. How she was attracted to him was beyond his belief.
He asked her that once. Everyone knew Thor was attracted to her, why don't you go out with him?
Then she told him that she loved him because he was genuine and kind and not Thor and then she took his hand him and they watched the sunset over Valhalla.
He had never been truly loved- constantly he was being shunned, ignored, even his father Odin had never loved him when there was "the mighty Thor."
When Odin drew him aside…told him he was a giant's son…the whole Nine Worlds seemed to collapse in on him. When he, just to run the salt in the wound, told him he was the harbinger of Ragnorak, he realised he would be the downfall of Sif.
Of Odin.
Of Thor.
Thor had made sure the rest of the Asgardians hated him now. If the others learned he was a son of a giant and destined to bring Ragnorak he would be hunted down and killed.
What better excuse?
He cried to himself that night and then packed his bags.
He then walked to Sif house. He lingered on the doorstep: should he go in?
He would one day end Sif's life.
Deciding against it, he walked down the rainbow bridge to nowhere.
He was raised a god: which he wasn't.
He was born a giant: giants considered him a god, an enemy.
Where else could he go?
Here was the sole reason he had been treated with prejudice and hate.
It was the little things that made him the monster.

And the admiration for his brother turned to hatred and now as he surveyed the troops that were going to fall Asgard - he smiled cruelly.
(Before feeling guilty.)
And so he took the Great Trumpet and blew.
-she told him that she loved him because he was genuine and kind and not Thor - and what was Thor?
A blood thirsty killer who bathes in the bloodshed of war. Who went to kill for pleasure. Because that's "just what he did."
He felt a twinge of regret- Sif. She would die. But so already was the Loki she had loved once.
"Go" he shouted. Tears streamed down his face: but it was them who made him this cold shell devoid of love…
"Your fault Odin. Thor. Frey," he cried.
So the army went to wage war- and
He walked off the edge of the tower, changed into a giant eagle and flew into the sunset- red and orange and black.
The mortality of the immortals had started.
And Loki's tragedy was coming to the climax.

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