A.N: Based off the fairy tale 'East of the Sun and West of the Moon.' But this is NOT for children and doesn't take the traditional format of the fairy tale. Just the bare bones really…. I would like to make note that Loki is not a nice guy only when he's unhinged, or feels emotionally threatened. Nearly this whole chapter deals with an unhinged Loki.
I'll add more warnings when I reach 'those' chapters. This story is not for the squeamish. There is a time jump, but the majority of the story begins in the now. As in Jane is still an Astrophysicists. The meat of the story takes place approx. 2011-2012. So Thor and Loki went on their hunting trip in the 1940's.
Master Loki-Slave Jane relationship.
West of the Moon
A big blond mammoth of a prince and his younger, craftier brother were traveling the lands of Midgard in search of adventure...
On that day, Thor had chosen their target to be none other than Farbauti, the Snow Queen, an Ice Elf powerful in sorcery. Farbauti, along with her entire kingdom, had managed to slip away during the chaos of the Frost Wars. It is whispered throughout the Nine, that she had willingly sacrificed her mate to rot in his native lands, and she built a new empire in the colder regions of war torn Midgard.
The slender built of the two princes, named Loki, had warned his oafish brother thrice over not to risk the All-Fathers wrath in this foolish attempt at glory and fame. Typical as always, Thor had ignored his council, far too arrogant in the surety of his success. He had it in his head that if they hunted down a renowned war criminal, their father would recognize all the sooner that he was ready to take up the mantel of Asgards new king.
It was laughably easy for Loki to uncover the secret realm of the Ice Court, and just as simple to infiltrate the Crystal Palace. He was oddly curious about the simplicity for him, while other Aesir warriors could not find the general location of her domain.
Thor, blinded by the thrill of battle, cared not for his brother's quandary, nor did he care for the Frost Trolls that leapt to the defense of their monarch. Thor abandons Loki to deal with the trolls while he smashed his way through the gates of the Crystal Palace in search of his main target.
"Be weary of battling Sorcerers!" Loki warned his brother, ducking the path of a crystal blade, and twisting away from another.
Thor's overconfident laugh booms from farther in the chamber, "Some do battle, others just do tricks!"
Loki's agitated by Thor's callousness, but keeps the slight locked away in his heart.
What a trick the Snow Queen pulled that day, and what a terrible choice in toy. Although Thor wielded a mighty hammer, and was heir to the throne of Asgard; these facts did not dissuade the Ice Elf from playing her wicked games.
Sprinting through the newly renovated hallway, Loki skids to a halt near the entrance of the throne room. He spots a raven haired, blue skinned elf sitting regally upon her throne, enjoying the sound of Thor's screams. Too late to stop what transpires, Loki watches as the sorceress finishes the last stanza of her chant. If he were not predisposed with eliminating frost trolls at the gates, he could have had the chance to silence the Snow Queen before she had cast her spell.
Mjolnir slips from the Thunder Gods grip, and lands forgotten on the left side of the dais, the blond Aesir falls to his hands and knees, roaring his mistreatment in the form of a yearling bear. A polar bear. The Queen begins to explain to Thor of the rules to her twisted game.
"Since you are Aesir, your bear form will live longer than it normally should, perhaps seventy years, if you're lucky. Remember, only at night will you be Aesir. Do as you please with the mortal maiden. Bed her, woo her, but she must not see your face."
With a silent spell, Loki vanishes into the room, stealthily approaching the dais, the god of mischief flicks his wrist and summons his dagger in preparation for a strike. There is something about this woman that felt oddly familiar to him. It wasn't a magical connection, nor was it physical, it was more of a fragmented memory of cold and ice.
Farbauti's eyes snaps to the invisible figure and greets him fondly. "Welcome home my son."
Lashing out, she tugs away the layers of illusions.
Even the secret ones.
Shocked by the sudden removal of everything that is him; leaving in its place a nameless thing, Loki stares at his cerulean hands in silence. The magnitude of this revelation sinks in. Unable to believe the sight before him, yet knowing in his heart of hearts, that what he sees is truth; Loki desperately clings to the idea that this is the lie.
She is the liar.
This is all illusion.
He is born an Odinson.
Hissing in rage, Loki rushes up the stairs to slay her, the Snow Queen rises up from her seated position, points to Thor, "Kill me, and he remains a bear forever!"
Feeling shell-shocked, he lowers his dagger, stares at his brother.
Is he his brother?
Stares at his hand.
Is this really his hand?
For a moment, he feels detached.
Is he truly an Ice Elf?
But then, what are the markings along his skin?
Why is his teeth...
Anger wiped away, he's unsure of what to do, and then he remembers the lessons of the tutors on the histories of the Royal families throughout the nine... And who the Snow Queen had been mated to during the Frost Wars... The King of Jotunheim...A Frost Giant.
Farbauti sneers, sensing his vulnerability. She transforms herself into a distraught mother, and cries out. "I should not have lost you from the fallout of war! The usurper dangles his war prize, his hostage prince, my baby, before the grieving eyes of mother and father! A threat to slay you if we continue fighting!" Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "Such a clever scheme, to hide your true heritage. Win your devotion by parading you around as one of their own, and Asgardian Prince."
The dagger of accusations against Odin hits him deeply. Always second best, never an acknowledgment of accomplishments well done, a frown at Loki's proficiency with sedir, a disapproving stare at surpassing Frigga's abilities at spell craft.
He is lost within memories; finding all the lies within the truths, warping simple acts of love into complex schemes of political power and control.
'It all makes sense now... All these years...'
Deeply content by her son's reaction to her words, the Snow Queen examines Loki's physique, the Jotun side of his heritage is obvious. Eyes a bright shade of claret, visible raised markings looping around his blue skin, and slightly tapered teeth. The hints of his ice elf bloodline is equally apparent. Gifted with magic, a thick mane of hair, tall and slender like all the males of his race, his ears are elongated, but stunted at the tip, appearing more Aesir in appearance.
'He should have perished long ago', she thinks to herself.
Alas, now that she is reunited with her son, she would rectify the errors of his perception of the world. Farbauti will force her child to accept all aspects of his nature. Both Ice Elf and Frost Giant. When the time is ripe, she will have her revenge on the All-Father; for taking something which was not his to take... even if that thing was abandoned to die.
The Snow Queen turns her attention back to the moaning bear. "Only the love a mortal will break this spell, and if any should look upon your face, you instantly return to me." She turns to smile at Loki, then looks back at the bear. "Enough time to teach my son all the things he was denied by your people."
Farbauti watches as the young polar bear trudges through the palace, disappears through the bloody vestibule, and out the front gates. Loki made as if to follow the bear, but the Snow Queen tugs his arm, holding him back. She could see the confusion, betrayal, and hatred he holds bubble to the surface. "Yes, reveal to me your true self. Allow your mother to show you where to properly direct those emotions."
Pulling away from her son, she walks down the dais to inspect the damage to her fortress, and says amiably, "We shall begin by finding you a proper slave or two before we-"
The childlike sound of disbelief from him makes her seethed in disgust.
"Odin might have ban the acquisition of slaves in Asgard, but not here. You are the son of an Ice Elf! Respect your heritage and act like us, or so help me; I will send the arctic wolves to slay your brother while still a bear, and that will be the end of their support for you. Why don't you understand, you are nothing but a war prize for them - A bargaining chip to keep us at bay!"
Unwilling to hear any more of her poison, Loki determinedly sets out to track down his not-brother; wishing to confront the All-Father for the farce that is his life.
Farbauti yells at his retreating form, "If you think to leave the Kingdom, I promise you, I will consider it a breach in conduct and your brother will become my slave all the sooner! He will suffer for your transgression - They all will spite you before I'm through!"
Face devoid of emotion, red eyes flaring in temper, Loki rejects her completely in the only way he could. "You will never be known to me as family, nor as a mother."
Confidently, he turns back. Looks at her. "Heimdall will be aware of this eventually. The House of Odin will send its wrath upon you," he warns.
The Snow Queen laughs at his threat. "Have you ever wondered where your unique ability to vanish without detection derived from?" Raising a finger, she points to herself. "You have been lost from his sight the very moment you trespass into my Kingdom."
Loki's shoulders slouch as he continues his decent down the dais, his voice is flat when he says, "It appears you have a guest in need of a room..."
Though he flees her vices this day, he fears that eventually her poisonous nature would twist him into something he is not. Loki keeps faith that the All-Father and his mother Frigga will not forget their adopted son. That they would somehow discover the tampering of the Snow Queen and rectify the injustice set upon them.
Blinding white snow covered the landscape in all directions, if a person was not used to the brightness, they would have suffered from blurry vision from the tears that would form and freeze in the corner of their eyes. Said person might even suffer the occasional freezing near the nose, ears, fingers, and toes. Now, if said person were human, and lacked all proper protection against the freezing elements, they'd obviously slip into the numbing comforts of death in less time than Loki could drop his pants and take a piss.
Every frozen mortal he ever discovered during his solitary stroll through the snowy wastelands were grizzled males, more ape like than man, it was strangely appalling that the sodomites usually died with silly grins slapped on their ugly faces. Such is the fate of all mortals who wandered too closely to the Queens Forest. Odd as they may appear, it never stopped him from looting their corpses.
If the neanderthals failed to die like respectable scum in temperatures well below zero, then they had the most unfortunate chance of being apprehended and gnawed to death by the frost trolls. Even the Trickster did not wish such a messy fate on his victims. It was not worth the time to clean up the blood and gore that get splattered on clothes during that brand of wanton slaughter, not to mention that before the trek back to the castle, all the nasty bits freezes like sheets of ice and makes it difficult to bend the joints. Then comes the itchy experience of thawing blood... Don't even get him started on the thawing.
On the topic of frost trolls and their habit of eating stray animals, Loki would never admit to cannibalizing a human. Just because he can do whatever the hel he wants, does not mean he'll do it for the sake of doing it. He'd first have to consider how ravenous he is on that particular day, and the possibility of not finding a meal elsewhere. Though, he would admit freely to inhaling the atomized blood of humans, through nose and mouth, as it sprays its way along face and body when he slices an artery just right. And since he's on this morbid spiral of thought, he ought not to deny the occasional licking of the iron rich substance from the tips of his fingers, or corners of his lips during tenebrous moments of detachment.
Such is the life of a prince confined.
Unable to venture into greener pastures until that imbecile Thor manages to use that neglected encephalon of his to wrangle a shrinking violet into his bed. It shouldn't be that difficult to woo a mortal maiden out of her chemise, make her fall madly in love, and end this nightmare. Loki is embarrassed for his not-brother's lack of success.
It has been over sixty years of waiting, of hoping, of repetitive motion, and Loki is still stuck here.
He is dangling on the brink of a maddening epiphany.
That glorious realization went something like a vocal rant he sometimes finds himself spewing during his venture through the woods. It deviates slightly from time to time, but usually has the same underline meaning.
"Still can't believe I honestly considered him my brother! I was so sure Thor's brain cells knew explicitly that they would be wasted on the blighted numbskull...waited around in mother's womb for the next lucky chap to come about, pun intended."
Feeling the frosty crispness of the air gathering in his lungs, Loki exhales and rants on, "Not like a big blaring clue wasn't staring through reflections everyday of your thousand years of living! Wake up and smell the Java! Black hair in a fair-haired family? Honestly thought mother had an affair..."
Yes indeed, important revelation about nothing. But no, that was just the part Loki complains about the most.
The Jotun prince came to the conclusion that his once-brother is not perfect, and that even the All-Father is fallible in the face of uncertainty. The most disheartening thing of all, which he is slowly coming to terms with, is that he has been abandoned by those he loved.
He can't handle rejection of that magnitude very well.
A sudden roar erupts from deep within the Crystal Palace. So loud, and fierce, and full of grief, that it could be none other than the long lost Aesir Prince. The only good news about that roar is that he is still a bear. Thor's repeated cries were just as ferocious as Loki remembers them to be; however, instead of mindless roaring of a beast, his yells have become distinctive in pitch.
Thor-bear was screaming a name.
With his roar of failure, Loki slowly lowers himself upon his knees.
Ignoring all stings of past hurts, he allows the inevitable to soak into his senses. Thor has failed. The false family will not retrieve them. The Snow Queen will be successful in her game of turning him into an other.
The Queen and her games disgusted him.
At first, the games Farbauti played to manipulate him was pathetically slight. But now, it affects everything he thought about.
In the beginning, it was simple to resist her.
Every two or three years – it used to be monthly – she would introduce him to a gift: handsome men, tantalizing women, strange hermaphrodites, beautiful other. She would take her time to tell Loki their life story, and then offer them to his services.
When he calmly refuses her gift, the Queen would say, "It is a present I give, if you do not wish to take it, dispose of them yourself."
And when she said to dispose of them, she meant kill.
Because of Thor, he was unable to slay the Snow Queen, so he took these twisted familial moments to lash out at her in a different way. Loki always refused the slaves, no matter how appealing, nor had he ever removed the illusion of his Aesir form. He knew it brought her blood to boiling whenever he openly denied one or the other.
Once, to spite him of his actions and to mock him of his pride, Farbauti had presented him a twelve year old boy and his nine year old sister. They were both chubby cheeked brunettes with bouncy ringlets for hair.
It was the first time his tear ducts malfunctioned.
Even though it was discovered that the children were actually goblins, it still took him well over a year to control the random breakdowns he suffered by the thought that he refused the protection of children. Even if it were a lie... it still darkens his thoughts in the twilight hours. He had to remind himself that the protection he wished to give them would have been mutated into something far more sordid than he cared to do to them.
Something shifted in him that day, and he knew it wasn't for the better. After being so thoroughly desensitized; whenever he was brought a newer, younger, prettier, toy, Loki shuts down. Kills automatically. A dispassionate mask to hide the heaviness in his heart and the confusion of his mind.
Blocking out those dark thoughts, Loki examines his surroundings.
Where was he again?
It was a beautiful day if you haven't lived here for sixty plus years, give or take a few. Forgive him if he doesn't quite remember how many cycles passed, he couldn't bring himself to bother. Well, more like too jaded to make the attempt. On such a disparaging day, he thought it ironic that the atmospheric setup wasn't dreary in the slightest. The sun shines in a cloudless sky, birds sing, rabbits scamper around mating everywhere, and deer pranced about without a care in the world.
Yes indeed. Just a normal day; except for the earth shattering roars echoing about.
When the time comes, Loki thinks he'll dig himself a cave and experience the life of a recluse; when the enslavement part of Thor's curse comes into being, the trickster wanted no part of that rotten bag of mixed crazy. But before that, he best form alliances and accumulate his own financial empire so he may live comfortable whilst in hiding.
Maybe even sabotage the monarchy while he's at it. Oh what a lovely idea.
Getting up from the cold grown, he pats himself off, makes his slow decent down the hill and into the Queens Forest. The crunching shift of packed snow beneath his boots is the only sound he hears besides the mournful wail of Thor-bear.
Eleven months fly by in a blink of an eye and Thor still spends half the day as a polar bear. Loki could not tolerate the sight of his not-brother. Just one glance sent the dark haired god into a fit of anger, leaving him bitterly disappointed in everyone and everything.
The things he knew about Thor's predicament were brief snippets of gossip through the grapevine. All the servants and nobles in the Snow Court enjoyed nothing better than to discuss about the Queen and her toys, and through them, he discovered that Farbauti took pleasure from torturing her victims to the fullest before reaping her rewards. Both physically and mentally.
It is public knowledge that the Queen has been spending most of her days riding around her kingdom in her polar bear drawn sleigh, and that she was fond of choosing Thor as the lead. At dusk, when he returns to his Aesir form, he is physically exhausted by the transformation, and spent most of his time deeply asleep. The strain of pulling a sleigh all day was beginning to affect Thor's health. And when the day comes when Thor remains himself as the sun breaks the horizon, Farbauti's real game begins.
During the night, the Queen handled Thor with modesty and decorum, allowing the Prince to rest without molestation. But no sooner has he become a bear, he would be lashed as the lead of her sleigh and her vicious cycle starts again.
What Loki didn't realize until just the other day, was that all the odds were in the queens favor.
The trickster had discovered from one of his many sources that Thor could not recall anything beyond the fact that he was cursed, that he knew his time was running out, yet believes that the spell would be broken by the mortal that he chose to court. This belief made Loki want to slit his not-brothers throat - End the suffering of the disillusioned fool. The only reason he hadn't killed him yet was because it wasn't any fun to murder someone suffering from magically induced amnesia.
Same old Thor. Tall, blond, perpetually stupid.
The only thing that was new about his older not-brother was the air of thoughtful consideration and new found empathy towards others. Truthfully, Loki is gobsmacked by it. Thor claimed that the mortal chosen to save him brought this about, and that she was both smart and beautiful. Thor humbly admits to anyone who would speak with him, that even though the mortal woman appeared much younger than he, her mental maturity was far greater.
Too bad he didn't pick an insipid girl.
The smart one failed Thor where it really mattered.
Failed him as well.
Since Thor's reappearance, Loki has been wandering closer towards the edge of insanity; he often caught himself peering into the depths of a dark void within his mind, and coming to terms with the possibility of succumbing to his darker heritage.
Just give up and let go…
These black moods have been plaguing him terribly, and the constant hedonistic parties the Ice Elves celebrated worsened his temperament.
Farbauti claims that these parties are based off a belief system, and that this predisposition to master and be mastered was part of the two fold nature of an Ice Elf. It was not just recreational, but also traditional. To willingly submit to heat, then turning around to smother the fire with a freezing embrace, was the ultimate enlightenment to an Ice Elf.
If Loki remembered correctly, it was something along the line of allowing the self to experience the difference in transition as a reminder of nature. Yeah, he didn't get it either and he was half Ice Elf.
There is always a celebration within the Snow Queens court. It reminds him of a denounced rendition of an Asgardian feast, and since he is the Crown Prince, he is obligated to attend for a few hours at every party. He greets guests by name, or tittle, compliments them on choice of pleasure slave, admits he still has no slaves at the palace for that particular reason, and cringe inwardly every time someone calls him the Frost Prince.
When all the pleasantries were dealt with, he disappears halfway through the festivities, and spend the rest of his time in his laboratory to tinker with a new potion, or try a spell on an unsuspecting slave. If it were a particularly humorous spell, he would use it to sabotage nobles he found most annoying.
But in the end, he is always thinking about the curse and his desire for revenge. It's never forgotten, even during his most mischievous adventures in the Winter Court.
When surpassing a particular point of vulnerability, he abandons his research. And the only thing left to distract him was his long walks in the Queens Forest, or reading Midgardian books. The mortals use of words were so odd at times. The way they create new variants of terms for the sake of it boggles the mind.
Tonight was one of those nights where he felt vulnerable.
Strapping a fur-trimmed cloak over his traditional leather outfit, Loki makes his way out of the Crystal Palace.
He neglects his armor.
A mixture of overconfidence and reckless abandon.
The temperature has fallen drastically, and he could sense a snow storm gathering. During this time of the year, it was typical for these storms to last for weeks, sometimes even longer. Loki trudges through the woods, losing himself in the winter void. A torrent of snow poured over his body and tugged him sideways. It was dangerously cold, to the point where he could see the friction of heat wafting from his body.
The noticeable tuft of vaporized air escaping his mouth made him smile.
He wandered in darkness for hours. Loki spots a trail of freshly disturbed snow, and follows the track to a large lump. Pulling his billowing cloak securely around himself, he cautiously approaches the mound. At first, the Trickster thought it was a tree branch, but the thing on the floor was too round to be a branch. A dead animal was his second guess. Wedging the tip of his leather boot under the lump, he flips it over in one fluid motion. It flops to the side like a dead fish.
The thing was thickly layered in tattered furs, leathers, and heavy quilting. The unfriendly elements wafted the horrid stench of the creature directly at him. Scrunching his face from the rancid smell, Loki shifts position. Facing away from the wind.
Crouching down with a hand over his nose, Loki examines the corpse. There was a threadbare sack lying next to the thing. Upending the bag, he identified clumps of rock-hard bread, and three thick objects bound in strips of cloth. Snatching up the wrapped items, he plops them besides him; they appeared to be books, he'll read them later.
The prince suspects the thing in the snow is another human male – recently dead by the smell of it. He shakes his head in disappointment. If he arrived an hour sooner, he could have toyed with it before it died.
Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk.
Wiping a smattering of snow from his face, Loki reaches down and pats the body in search of hidden pockets. He didn't notice the slow rise and fall of breath from the lump.
The ragged pile surges forward so suddenly, that Loki lets out a gasp of shock. Taking a step back, he watches as clumps of snow tumble off the hooded creature. The onslaught of turbulent wind hampers the beast's sluggish progression towards the Jotun.
Loki seethes at the fact that he was startled out of his wits, and forcefully shoves the mountain of rags into a snow drift. The thing had the gall to drag itself out of the deep crater it made in the snow. Determined to get to the trickster, it stretched out its arms. Blindly grasping at empty air.
A jolt of sedir sent the beast flying again.
Loki watches in twisted satisfaction as it crash-landed into the bushes behind it. Approaching his target, the creature's hood falls down, revealing a tangle bird's nest of greasy hair. Loki recoiled in disgust. The sight was incentive enough to exercise his pent up emotions.
Gnashing his teeth, Loki snags the man around the ankle, dragging him out of the shrubbery.
The human tries to sit up, but the god shoves it back into the snow. The force of his shove knocks the air out of his targets lungs. Pinning the thing with his knee, preventing it from crawling away; Loki summons a dagger into his hands, determined to punch a new hole in its face. The tangled mass of hair masking the creatures view, shifts up and down above its mouth as it gasps in pain. The sound of its inhalation causes the God of Mischief to pause his intent. The little pants of breath are soft and delicate.
Lowering his dagger, Loki carefully maneuvers the bladed tip beneath a dirty clump of hair near the upper half of its face, and slowly lifts the strand away. He is met by a pair of hauntingly brown eyes. They were glazed over and fever bright. Long butterfly lashes fluttered close against the onslaught of heavy snow. The skin below those eyes were darkly bruised. Dragging the dagger under another clump of hair, he flips it to the side, revealing the entirety of the dirt smudged face. Delicately smoothed, asymmetrical features greets him. The most striking were the arch of brows, the small beauty mark beside an ashen cheek, pert nose, and cupid bow lips that were severely chapped and purplish.
His little toy is female.
Pulling away from her, Loki's eyes grow hard with determination. He will slay her where she lies and be done with it. Lifting his dagger to strike her, the mortal swivels about, and pushes away from his knee. The momentum propels him sideways, and a gust of wind pushes him backward. Loki slips on the slick ground and lands hard on his rear.
What just happened?
Loki blinks several times. Completely distracted from all dark tendencies.
The shivering female tugs her ice caked mittens off, and tosses the ruin garments aside. Mumbling incoherently to herself, she crawls between his legs. The tips of her fingers are bloodless talons. Darting out, she latches her claws into the leather straps of his sir coat, presses against him, and burrows into his warmth.
It felt like she was imitating a dirty, slimy, barnacle, attached to the underside of a boat.
Loosening his hold on the dagger, he watches as the weapon falls, and vanishes in a shower of green and gold sparks.
Loki tries not to find his predicament amusing.
It was ridiculously amusing.
Seriously now, what just happened?
Reaching down, he wraps warm hands around cold pale wrists. It's surprising that his hands are warmer than her own - apparently she has been out in the snow for a long time. Tugging gently at her wrists, she tenses at the pull and whimpers disapprovingly, locks her fingers into another tier of leather straps, and presses the length of her arms against the sides of his torso. Even though she reeked to high heaven, the thing was persistently focused in its continued existence. He couldn't fault her on that.
Everything assumes it deserves to live.
"Do you have a name?" His question sounds standoffish.
Deeply lethargic, she pulls away slightly and blinks owlishly at him. The tip of one exposed ear is a shade of light blue.
He repeats his question.
She tries to answer him through the stutter of chattering teeth. "J-j-j-ja-jah-an-n-n-"
He hadn't the foggiest idea what she was pronouncing.
"Ah. Try not to hurt yourself over it." Loki tries to get her to stop talking by tapping the right side of her trembling chin. "Another time," he says.
Shutting her eyes, in desperate need of warmth, she presses into the crook of his right hand. Unsatisfied, she nuzzled his chest – not realizing that it was encased in cold black plating. When she notices the lack of heat, she sighs in despair and tucks her face against the underside of his arm. Snow clusters land gently in the tangle of her hair. And by the look of it, the elements will kill her in less than an hour. He should show mercy and kill her swiftly. The woman shifts her weight along the length of him as cold fingers travel up in search of a better heat source. Finding it in the area around his upper back, she claws at the leather, and hugs him tightly.
At that moment, he forgets everything. Forgets who he was, where he was, when this started, why he lives in a constant state of denial.
Forgets completely that he should end this.
It has been a very long time….
Holding his breath, he gathers the rank bundle, and carries it with him into the storm.
Half an hour slips by before they reach the main gate of the Crystal Palace.
His burden is fading quickly.
End notes: This story was made for a good friend of mine. Review if you have constructive criticism, or if you want more of this story.
Things that will be explained:(In the late future)
What Thor-bear did during his wanderings
Political aspect of the curse
Who Jane is searching for
The items in Jane's bag
Mama-Bear-Frigga just about had enough of everyone's shit.