Unknownfate
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Chapter 125
🕑 Added 2025-05-11 23:56:34 +0000 UTCLoki appeared on a grassy plane, with a brilliant white city standing in the distance.
He was surprised by the sight of it, given that it felt far beyond what he had expected from a mortal city. While he hadn’t paid much attention to Midgard, he had been here a few times in secret over the years.
And this looked nothing like those cities he had seen the last time he was here.
In fact, this city looked almost divine, nothing that belonged in this dirty mortal realm.
For a moment, he almost suspected that Heimdall might have sent him somewhere else entirely, but no, he could see a clearly human town right next to the great white walls, so he had to be in the right place.
He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he quickly ignored everything that was wrong and set out to find Thor.
Something that shouldn’t prove much of a challenge, with his magic, finding that fool was never difficult.
Or it shouldn’t have been at least.
The plan was simple: get into the city, use a bit of magic to find out where Thor was, and then ensure he wouldn’t try to get back to Asgard, maybe even pick up Mjolnir while at it.
Yes, it would look nice if he returned to Asgard, proclaiming that he had invited Thor back, only for Thor to turn him down and pass Mjolnir to him, as a passing of the torch. It would surely strengthen his reputation.
With plans in place and mood high, he quickly moved to the city, and the closer he got, the more surprised he became; he could clearly feel some kind of magic from it. And powerful stuff at that, something he hadn’t expected to see on Midgard.
It felt… wrong. No mortal city should feel like this.
He had seen magic before, of course. He had studied it, mastered it, wielded it to bend reality to his will. But this… this felt different. This felt ancient. Primeval.
Yet, he forced those thoughts aside as he reached the gates themselves. Two towering guards, their armor a polished silver, their helms shaped like the heads of great, snarling beasts, crossed their halberds as he approached, the sound of metal clashing against metal ringing out like the toll of a great bell.
“Halt,” one of them said, his voice deep and echoing within his helm. “State your name and purpose.”
Loki paused, his body froze, and his mind was consumed with a single thought… ‘What?!’
He was using his illusion magic to hide himself, completely invisible, from mortals and from gods.
So the fact that he was spotted and blocked completely shocked him.
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise composed face. He hadn’t been seen like this in centuries, not since he had first begun dabbling in the art of deception.
With a small, irritated flick of his fingers, he dropped the illusion, his tall, regal form shimmering into view. His dark green and gold robes fluttered around him like the wings of a predatory bird, his horned helm gleaming in the sunlight.
“Do you have any idea who you are speaking to?” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful heir to the throne, acting king of the Nine Realms.”
The guards remained impassive, their halberds still crossed, their armored forms blocking the massive gates behind them. They showed no sign of being impressed, their blank, expressionless helms reflecting his image back at him.
That’s when he realized they weren’t real people, they were some kind of magical beings, golems or something. Which meant their senses weren’t normal, maybe even connected to the magic of the city itself.
It was highly fascinating, and once more, he wondered about this strange city.
Still, a large crowd quickly formed around him. After all, countless mortals entered and exited the city all the time, and now the guards stopped someone, someone special looking, who got all those curious people to stop and look.
Loki, never one to shy away from an audience, straightened, his emerald eyes gleaming with cold amusement as he took in the mortals around him. They looked so small, so fragile, their lives brief and unremarkable. How easily they gathered, like sheep, drawn to the first hint of conflict.
He considered simply pushing past the two armored constructs, but something about them gave him pause. They weren’t normal guards. That much was clear. He could feel the hum of magic emanating from them, a steady, ancient pulse that resonated with the city itself.
No, this place wasn’t normal. He could sense it now, the way the air felt heavier, the distant, almost inaudible hum of power that throbbed through the very stones of the wall. This was no mere human city. It was something older, something powerful, something... significant.
He forced a smile onto his lips, a lazy, condescending curl of the mouth that he had perfected over centuries.
“I am Loki, Son of Odin, acting Lord Regent of Asgard, and as such, Ruler of the Nine Realms, which includes Midgard. I am your king, so I demand you let me pass.” He spoke with all the arrogance of a spoiled prince, yet the words themselves caused a major reaction from the crowd around.
Just yesterday, they had heard about Mjolnir and the godlike power it could grant anyone picking it up, and now Loki appeared? A God?
The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, the low, nervous buzz of dozens of voices blending into a single wave of sound. Heads turned, eyes widened, and more than a few people took cautious steps back, their instincts warning them to keep a healthy distance from this strange, armored figure.
“A god?” someone whispered, their voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. “Another one?”
“Is he here for the hammer?” another murmured, clutching the arm of their friend. “Is he one of them?”
Loki, catching snippets of their frantic whispers, felt his lips curl into a pleased, self-satisfied smirk. Yes, let them whisper. Let them fear. Let them marvel at his presence. It was only fitting for one as mighty as he.
But the guards remained unmoved, their halberds still crossed, their faceless helms reflecting his sneer back at him.
“Move aside, constructs,” he commanded, his voice sharp, dripping with disdain. “I have no time for your theatrics. I am Loki, and I do not wait.”
“We greet the Lord Regent, and welcome you to Camelot, City of our noble King Arthuria Pendragon.” A crisp voice came as the Enforcement Knights stepped aside.
“I am Sir Bedivere, a humble Knight serving my king, and I invite you to meet the Ruler of Albion.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly. Arthuria Pendragon? Albion?
Those names meant nothing to him, but the humble tone and respect he was given did please him. And honestly, this city did intrigue him quite a bit, so he figured that finding out more would be important.
“Very well, knight, lead the way,” Loki said with a raised head as she stepped into the white city.
The guards, if they could even be called that, stepped aside with a synchronized clank of metal, their halberds returning to a vertical rest position, their faceless helms once more locked forward. They gave no further response, simply resuming their silent, unmoving vigil over the gate.
Loki straightened, adjusting the collar of his armored tunic as he passed between them, the crowd around him parting like a wave, their fearful eyes locked onto him as he strode into the city. He didn’t bother to hide the smirk tugging at his lips, his stride confident and unhurried.
The first thing that struck him as he entered the city proper was the sheer scale of it. The white walls had hinted at grandeur, but the interior defied even his expectations. Wide, polished stone streets stretched before him, lined with tall, graceful marble and stone buildings, their walls etched with intricate carvings.
Banners in rich blues and golds fluttered in the breeze, emblazoned with sigils and crests he did not recognize.
Countless mortals moved around, yet despite what he expected, there was a certain purpose to them, a strange kind of order to everything. And the place was clean, so clean he could hardly believe he was in Midgard.
Even the air itself was clean and crisp, reminding him of Vanaheim. Though it lacked the grand majestic forests, its lush landscapes, and the singing birds everywhere, it still had that purity to it.
He once more found it hard to believe this was Midgard, yet the mortals gave it away, this was Midgard… which meant that this city was just that special… and he wanted to know all the secrets of this city.
Loki allowed himself a small, approving nod. Whoever ruled this place, they clearly understood the value of order and control, of power carefully measured and wielded with purpose. That, at least, was something he could respect.
As they walked deeper into the city, Sir Bedivere remained a step ahead, his polished armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. Loki took the opportunity to study his guide more closely.
He was special, he was strong, he could feel it, it wasn’t something concrete, no, it was just a feeling, like an instinct, something he had honed over his long life.
Yet, surprisingly enough, despite being so much more powerful than the people around him, he seemed kind to them, humble before them, curious indeed.
Finally, they reached a large square, dominated by a towering white statue of a young king, one hand raised high as if in eternal defiance, the other resting on the hilt of a great, shining sword.
At the statue’s base, crowds gathered around a familiar shape — Mjolnir, still perched upon its stone pedestal, unmoved and untouched despite the dozens of mortals who still struggled and strained against its immovable weight.
Loki paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. It was an unbelievable sight, mortals treating Mjolnir as a toy. Yet there was also something slightly satisfying about it, Thor’s mighty hammer, now little more than a tourist attraction.
Sir Bedivere paused as well, his head tilting slightly as if he, too, had noticed the tense silence that fell over the square at their approach.
“The king permitted anyone who wished to try to do so, though I doubt anyone will be able to move it… Apparently, the enchantment on it is rather powerful.” Sir Bedivere explained before he continued to lead Loki towards the grand castle in the heart of the city.
Loki cast a lingering glance back at Mjolnir as they passed through the bustling square, his mind racing with the implications. Clearly, this mysterious king knew more than he had expected. He really looked forward to seeing him.
The castle was as impressive as one would expect from such a city; it was large, gleaming, and impressive in every way: tall towers, clean walls, and banners flying high. There were grand carvings and paintings and remarkable rugs on the walls everywhere.
It wasn’t all that inferior to the golden halls of Valor themselves. Something he had never expected to see from the mortal realm.
Finally, they neared the heart of the castle, and they entered a grand hall. Massive windows of stained glass let in light, while the glass itself depicted grand battles of old. One in particular seemed to show a knight killing a great dragon.
Another striking feature of the room was a grand round table, yet his eyes were drawn to the awe-inspiring doors at the other side of the room. They were pieces of art worthy of Asgard itself. Gold and silver were carefully molded and carved into a grand story of legends.
Two more knights stood on either side of the entrance, their armor a deeper, richer silver than the guards at the gate, their helms shaped like the heads of fierce, winged beasts.
They did not flinch or move as Bedivere approached, but as he drew near, the great doors slowly, silently swung open, revealing the throne room beyond.
He stepped inside, his boots clicking sharply against the polished marble floor, his eyes immediately drawn to the figure seated at the far end of the room.
Arthuria Pendragon, the so-called King of Albion.
She sat upon a throne of polished white stone, raised high upon a platform of intricately carved marble. The throne itself was a masterpiece. Yet his eyes couldn’t leave the king’s figure; she was beautiful beyond anyone he had ever seen, and radiated immense power.
This was no mere mortal king; this woman… was a goddess. “Beautiful,” he muttered unconsciously.
(End of chapter)
And Loki is here!
I personally feel that while Loki is easy to hate on, being a real prick at times, his position at this time is as Lord of the Nine Realms, and therefor, someone aware of Odin’s power, would give that position the respect it deserves, even if Loki is currently the one holding it.
Knights are all about honor, and while Arthuria is indeed a divine spirit, she isn’t arrogant; she respects others, if they earn it, or, as for Loki, sits in a position worthy of respect, it's just godly manners.
But really, surely this isn’t what I think it is is it? surely Loki couldn’t fall in love would he?
But well, I’m sure next chapter will bring answers!
Comments
Hooli4ss
Loki better chill out lol. But seriously, she revealed herself? This is good , I can’t wait for the reactions .
LothWolf
Yeah the Knights of the round table yeah I don’t see the Knights of the round table approving of Loki especially Mordred and I wonder how Thor and other gods will react towards Artoria true appearance and power
