A/N: Warning, long note at the end. The chapter is actually quite short—sorry.

EPILOGUE

Book and Frigga knelt facing one another under the shade of a spreading tree in the palace gardens. Loki observed from a distance. It seemed his mother was having far greater luck tutoring Book with his shapechanging than he had. The tension that remained between them made it difficult to get anywhere without tempers flaring.

He buried his head in his arms. Things had been simpler when they were vagabonds and didn't always know where their next meal would come from. Then he had had Book's trust. Now it seemed whenever a tenuous bond was re-forged the lingering anger and mistrust would tear through it leaving them once more as wary strangers forced to play the part of family.

"Tell me there comes a time when I am not salt to his wounds?" Loki mumbled into his arms before raising his head to look at the Norn who had appeared beside him between one thought and the next.

Skuld seemed unsurprised at his knowledge of her presence. "It is said that time heals all."

"Little comfort to someone with a possible lifespan of millennia." He let out a slow breath. "He will never forgive me for what I've done to him."

"To him?"

He paused. Book was less than thrilled at his new pedigree; however, in true Book fashion, that seemed to trouble his thoughts far less than other things. "To Earth, to New York." He let out a slow breath. "Even to Jotunheim."

The Norn hummed in contemplation. She knelt beside him, folding her long limbs down somewhat uncomfortably. "Forgiveness is a weighty thing, little understood. Often more concerned with the one that grants it than the one that receives."

Loki fixed the Norn with a sidelong glance. He had little love for the Norn's insights—not because they were in error, but because he rarely liked what she had to say. That so often she seemed to be correct only made it worse.

Skuld continued. "Forgiveness is not something given in condescension to the ragged beggar pleading at the royal's feet. Nor is it a prize awarded because someone has worked for it—has earned it. Forgiveness is given to those who do not deserve it, and never can—even to those who do not wish for it and try to throw it back in the giver's face."

"Then I ought not seek forgiveness?"

The Norn gave a slow blink. "Strive to walk a new path, regardless of whether Fenris, or any other forgives you. Turn from blood and madness, do what is hard, even if there is no thanks in it."

She caught Loki's face in her hand, turning him to her even as he tried to duck away. The sharp lines of her face seemed to soften. "But I do not think that if you walk this new path you will walk it alone." Her gaze drifted back to where Book had finally flopped over in the grass and thrown an exhausted arm over his eyes. "At least not for long."

Loki watched as Book said something—probably a ridiculous observation—and his mother's shoulders shook as she hid a smile behind her hand. She then settled next to Book, spreading out her skirts and engaging her grandson in conversation.

"It appears he has already won over one new devotee," the Norn observed.

"Two if you count Sleipnir. Who is ecstatic to have a herd-brother by the way and rather too eager for me to produce more. He is, of course, somewhat confused about the process." Loki pursed his lips. "I think he's still under the impression that eightlegged horses spring from a particular field on the Shining Plain." Resting his chin on his arm he watched as Book's arms flailed about him in concert with whatever tale he was recounting to Frigga. His ghost of a smile faded. "Not all of Asgard will be so welcoming."

"You think not?"

Loki snorted, lips curled. "He is Lokison." A shard of bitterness sharpened within his green gaze. "Already I see the looks of derision and hear the whispers floating through the court. He is no warrior. What use does Asgard have for a prince who loves books too dearly?" Teeth clenched. "And within he carries the kind of monster it has been Asgard's pride to slaughter for eons. Better that he have lived in obscurity on Midgard."

"Never desire that." The sharpness in Skuld's words brought Loki up short. A chill crept up his spine as the Norn's features hardened. "Though an innocent may lead a charmed life, all charms fade." She flicked her gaze to the side. "And darkness festers in the hearts of men."

Loki closed his eyes against what he read in the Norn's inky stare.

She softened. "Do not be troubled by what might have been. As Fenris, his fate wends a very different path."

"One free of struggles?"

"There are no such lives. No tales free of tribulation. Perhaps once we could have told such tales, but now there are no unbroken creatures or worlds untainted." A long finger pressed into the center of his chest. "Trust that he is where he ought to be—and that all will be well." A sudden glint of humor quirked her lips. "I know—I've read the ending."

Loki's shoulders jerked with a bark of surprised laughter. "Then pray tell, oh wise one, how exactly is that," he motioned to where Book seemed to be demonstrating—badly—one of the martial exercises he'd tried to copy from Loki, "meant to learn to live as an Asgardian? As a prince?"

She gave a few rapid blinks. "Practice."

An over enthusiastic lunge sent Book sprawling into the grass.

The Norn cleared her throat. "A good deal of it." She cocked her head to the side as Book's laughter floated up the hill to them. "He need not face this challenge on his own. Fenris has you to aid him. And you are clever."

Loki sucked on his teeth. "I begin to think I am simply conniving rather than clever."

"It is possible to be both, and you come by your scheming tendencies quite honestly," said Skuld.

A tightness ran across Loki's shoulders as his fists curled. "Laufey."

The Norn smiled. "Hardly." She watched Frigga pull a book from her satchel and beckon the boy over. Laying the volume in her lap, she started pointing things out to Book as he leaned over her shoulder. "There was calculation in your mother's choice to bring her two young sons to Yggdrasil's heart when dark tidings overshadowed her visions. The journey to Urd's well is no easy feat. Yet she brought you and Thor with her where I might see you firsthand. And take an interest."

Loki looked up sharply. "You imply that she—"

"Do not underestimate the lengths to which a mother will go for her child." She traced an idle nail down her forearm, runes scudding beneath the surface of her skin. Loki felt an answering heat along his arms and above his heart. The runes of the blood rite, though long-healed, flared briefly beneath his flesh. "Or, I think, a father for his son."

A kind of awe filled Loki as he considered his mother. His well spoken, decorous mother. Who glittered through the court and read poetry to him while his head rested in her lap. His mother who smelled of laurel and whose soft fingers had often rubbed circles on his back as she listened through his childhood tears. Loki pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. His mother who was the reason he knew his way around a knife better than any on Asgard, who could silence a room without ever raising her voice. His mother who sat upon the throne during the Ice Wars and used her words as skillfully as he did—if less cuttingly. His mother the Farseer.

As if she knew he was thinking of her, Frigga raised her head and gave her youngest a beaming smile that edged almost into a smirk as she beheld Skuld at his side. Frigga placed a hand lightly to her heart and bowed her head to the Norn. Skuld in return offered a knowing salute and inclined her head in turn.

"I have always found Frigga Fjorgynsdottir a delight to write." A strange heaviness settled in her words. The depths of her eyes peered into a might-have-been with such sorrow that it made Loki's heart twist within his chest. "It is well that you ruined Verthandi's original weavings."

Quiet settled into the space between them. Loki reined in his thoughts before they could spiral too far down the dark possibilities implied by Skuld's words. A breeze wafted over them, almost apologetically ruffling the feathers in the Norn's hair. It filtered through the tree above Frigga and Book, shaking loose a handful of tiny leaves that skittered about before some dropped onto the pages spread across Frigga's lap. Loki shook his head as Book picked one up and twirled the little leaf between his fingers, clearly asking Frigga about it. Little wonder, Midgard had no such trees.

Turning from the scene Loki slid up onto his feet and peered down at Skuld with an appraising look. "I find myself with a horse and a giant wolf for sons. Are the scribblers of Midgard to be believed? Should I expect a serpent and a half-dead girl to work their way into my life at some point?"

The Norn cocked her head to the side—unintimidated by the way Loki loomed over her. "When the imaginations of Midgard are seeded with Urd's prophecies their minds sometimes bear strange fruit." Unfolding from the ground, she reached up and played a strand of Loki's hair through her fingers, the color shifting from onyx to a fiery red. "Do you know they think you to be a redhead?"

Loki snorted and pulled back, giving his head a quick shake to shift it back to his natural shades.

"I had toyed with it when we first conceived your tale." Her eyes glinted. "But I like the look of night upon you far better. Strange that the humans should find that detail among my discarded imaginings."

He flicked his gaze up to her face. She was trying to distract him. "That is no answer."

Pressing long fingers together, she shook her head. "You have naught to do but live your life, Loki Odinson and find what lies ahead."

"After all that you've put me through, not even a hint? I am your favorite after all." He put on his most charming smile. Clearly calculated and certainly not something Skuld would ever mistake for genuine. But it was very charming.

Her eyes flicked over him for a moment before the strangest noise escaped her lips. Though it was odd to his ears, Loki felt the effect of the sound deep in his soul and a mirth rose up to meet the bizarre sounds of joy. Skuld was laughing. And when one of the fates laughed, you couldn't help but share their delight. Loki's features softened into an easy grin that would have seemed familiar to those who knew him when he was less careworn. He shrugged. You can't blame me for trying, Scrivener.

She raised an eyebrow. Can't I, Silvertongue? The words echoed within his mind. Suddenly, she darted in, her breath cool and raising the hairs on the back of his neck as she bent to his ear. "I could tell you that there are great strivings in the coming days. That you will walk in strange realms and find unlikely allies. I could speak of the child abandoned to the cold who could not leave others to a similar fate. Perhaps I could pen tales of the fires that he will face and of the unexpected delights. Of the dark nights that may come. Of nights filled with anguish and with tears, and nights whose emptiness has been filled to overflowing and that have no room for nightmares. I could speak of the children at your knee, the brother at your side, and yes, even of the friends at your back."

Though the words were whispered, he caught every one of them. "I could speak of the tale we will tell," the Norn drew back and offered him what he interpreted as a mischievous smile, "but that would be spoiling things."

He turned her words over in his mind. It seemed Skuld had grander plans for the course of his life than he first imagined. He'd thought she'd mostly been interested in his role at the end of all things. He worried the edge of his surcoat between his finger and thumb. "You envision a future with paths more…intricate than I would have imagined. I don't exactly have the freedom I once did." He held up his branded wrist. He could almost feel the magic constrict within that watchful eye at the mere thought of trying to slip beyond the boundaries of his leash.

Pale fingers traced idly over the mark. "I wished to save you from the role of villain." She glanced up at him with a look that knew full well he'd already been trying to find ways to circumvent Odin's strictures. "I didn't mean for you to be boring."

He quirked an eyebrow. Boring…now that was something he would never abide. Abruptly he took her hand and bowed low over it, brushing his lips lightly across the ink infused flesh. "My lady."

Long fingers gently raised his chin upward. Inky eyes met his, glimmering with possibilities and secrets of things to come. She shook her head fondly as her thumb brushed his cheek. Pride tinged with amusement flooded her voice. "My trickster."

A/N: I struggled with this chapter, and I'm still not 100% satisfied with it, but I find it acceptable enough. I kept trying to put in elements that really didn't belong at the end of this story. There are still some things that I really enjoy that I got to work in there, though. Like Sleipnir's confusion about exactly where foals come from. I can blame my little (okay, younger, definitely not little!) brother for that. He's adopted and when he was young he thought that if you wanted a baby girl you went to the hospital, but if you wanted a boy you went to the city (since that's where we got him). He eventually figured out that's not how that works… I also now realize that my final lines are very reminiscent of the final lines in The Thief. Huh.

Well…that's that. We finally come to the end and I can say that I'm truly going to miss getting to interact with everyone and getting to share this story with other Loki/Marvel fans. I simply cannot thank all of you enough for reading—yes, you too you silent ones lurking in the back, you're a part of this journey too 😊. And especially everyone who was kind enough to drop a kudo, share this tale with others, or leave a comment. Y'all have made me laugh, made me think, and simply had me beaming with happiness that you fond enjoyment in this creation of mine.

Now, for the numbers, if anyone was wondering. Monstrous Purpose clocks in at 40 chapters, 210 pages, and 142,834 words. According to the internet that's longer than A Tale of Two Cities and just shy of The Two Towers. I honestly am flabbergasted that I outstripped Dickens. Charles I-was-paid-by-the-word Dickens. Oy vey. Although, it is fun to know that I (and all multi-chapter fan writers) am carrying on the Victorian tradition of serialization, which is how many of Dickens's novels were initially published.

As to the future. Y'all, I have ideas. But I also know myself, so I can make no promises. I have the vaguely sketched outline of a multi-story arc (probably not quite as long as this) that would ultimately lead us to Ragnarok (I'm thinking probably four big stories interspersed with some shorter stories). That would be quite the undertaking and I'm not sure I'm up to it. I also am toying with the idea of a far shorter, more episodic work that deals with Book's adjustment to Asgardian life and further explores the healing process between him and Loki. I think I'd also like to do a compendium of more slice-of-life stories set within this story itself—tell the tales that didn't fit into the overall narrative, but that I know happened. It would also allow me to perhaps tell parts of the story from a different perspective (a little Book narration anyone?).

There is one thing immediately in the works. It would be set in canon (rather than this universe…which I guess needs a name…)right at the end of Infinity War and then bridge the gap to set up the next film. Basically it started out as a my idea of how I would want to start the next film and grew from there. No schedule of when I'll start posting it, though, I want to get it out before Endgame comes along and ruins all of my headcanon…

I can make no promises on timelines or even if all of my grand ideas will come to fruition, so if you've enjoyed my work and want to see more please follow me so you'll know when new stuff is coming out. And again, thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing over the last couple of months. It's been a blast and y'all are wonderful!

Areyouokani: Don't worry about it! It is always high praise to have someone devour your work (or lose sleep reading it). As to Ragnarok…yeah, I know I'm in the minority. I have this urge to make a video essay explaining my qualms and my ideas of how it could have been so much better. And thank you, I adore these characters and I really wanted to do them justice.

RedHood001: I was rather fond of that metaphor, myself and the symmetry of it pleased the part of me that enjoys literary analysis. And oh my word, now I'm imagining Hawkeye's kids just glomping all over wolf-Fenris. I think you're spot-on that Fenris is going to have to deal with some bullying or mistreatment from at least some of Asgard. Also, stop reading my mind! I also envision Volstagg to have all of these kids running around and actually be quite a bit of a family man.