Disclaimer: I came up with this idea while watching the 2004 Hallmark mini-series of Frankenstein (The only film version of Frankenstein to follow the novel) and from watching Thor 2.

In the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley the Frankenstein Monster is actually intelligent and quite different from most archetype depictions. Even the 1994 Mary Shelley's Frankenstein movie is far off from what the book actually described. I got the idea of what would happen if Thor met the Frankenstein Monster.

Thor and Loki (Mythologically) are public domain but the Marvel depictions belong to Marvel / Disney. The Frankenstein Monster is public domain. Depiction here based on the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, the Hallmark mini-series of Frankenstein from 2004 starring Luke Goss as The Creature and some aspects from Steve Niles and Bernie Wrightson's graphic novel series Frankenstein Alive, Alive.

Karma

1

Frankenstein's Monster:

The Creature had been brought into existence in an attic laboratory of Ingolstadt Bavaria in 1793. He had been galvanized by a combination of alchemical, occult, and scientific means. The lightning of the November storm had been harnessed for this purpose. After the young, naïve, would-be-Father, Victor Frankenstein had fled out into the night The Creature took what clothes he could find, dressed himself as best he could, and wandered the darkness alone…

The Creature stood at an impressive eight feet tall. His long, nearly shoulder-length, wavy black hair was rather messy and falling into his pale, gaunt face. The countenance was distorted by the tightly drawn and scarred skin. His eyes were wide and wondering, pale in the darkness. His teeth were strangely perfect, an uncanny white, a stark contrast against the ghoulish scarring that encircled his throat, and even trailed down the left side of his forehead. His body was a patchwork compilation of flesh from the dead. His form mostly consisted of parts from humans though some attributes such as his immense height might be attributed to animal. Perhaps even the eyes were not quite human.

That had only been the beginning of his story. He had wandered, fleeing from the cruelty and abuses of human beings who had judged him with hate and fear based on his appearance. His soul ached for acceptance. He found a kindly old man who was nearly blind but seemed to live contentedly with his younger relations in a cottage. The Creature watched them for months but did not dare to approach them. From observing them, and from "borrowing" a few of their books The Creature had learned to speak, to read, and to write. He was soon fluent and eloquent in the languages of German, French, and English. Within months he could not only speak well but he had found a deep fondness for one particular book, Paradise Lost by John Milton.

When the Creature had worked up the nerve to finally introduce himself to the old man he had hope that perhaps he had found some humans that might accept him but alas, this was not to be. The family turned on him immediately and drove him away. The hurt had been terrible, his spirit wounded by the rejection.

Furious at the cruelty of humanity, The Creature sought out his creator. He only knew his creator from vague memories of the night of his creation and from the journal that had been in the pocket of the clothes he had dressed himself with on the first night of his existence. The Creature went to Geneva Switzerland where he encountered a small boy, William. William turned out to be the younger brother of his creator, Victor Frankenstein. The Creature tried to quiet the boy when he reacted poorly to him. In the process the boy died. The Creature took from the boy a locket that had hung from his neck.

When The Creature saw a pretty young woman asleep in a barn he became overwhelmed with anger at the human race and resented the woman, believing that she would scream if she saw him. In a moment of madness he slipped the locket into her clothes, thus planting the evidence that would condemn Justine, the boy's governess, for the crime he had committed.

Shortly after this The Creature met his creator, his Father, Victor Frankenstein. for the first time. They encountered each other in an isolated place in the mountains. Here The Creature confessed his crimes and pleaded with Victor Frankenstein to give him a companion so that he would not have to face the world alone.

Feeling some parental obligation and pity Victor agreed but during the process of constructing the mate for his creature Victor's mind changed. Victor started to question if what he was doing was evil. What if the female rejected the male? What if she was cruel and evil? What if they had children and the new race would sooner or later over-whelm and or conquer humanity? The doubts and fears caused Victor destroy the yet-to-be-completed female.

Feeling that the incomplete female had been murdered, The original Creature went into a rage. He vowed revenge and murdered Victor's friend, Henry Clerval and then Victor's beloved bride, Elizabeth. He killed her upon her wedding night to Victor. Victor's own father, Alphonse died soon after, from the grief at the death of Elizabeth, whom Alphonse had raised as his own daughter. Now feeling utterly alone in the world Victor vowed revenge of his own and hunted down his Creation into the snowy frozen North. Here Victor died from pneumonia. Guilt, shame, and grief over-whelmed The Creature for his past sins and he grieved deeply, his soul aching for forgiveness.

The Creature wandered away into the wilderness, unable to bring himself to follow through with a plan to end his own life by way of fire, one of the only ways he knew his semi-immortal life could be ended.

2

A clap of Thunder

"I don't see what's so funny." Snapped the ageless, and yet strangely youthful man, with the long dark hair and intelligent eyes. Loki, God of mischief, adoptive son of Odin, King of Asgard, was in no mood for delight and pleasure. He was agitated, annoyed by what he considered the buffoonary of his brother by adoption, Thor, The God of Thunder.

Loki's face was prone to smirks of impish delight and wicked cunning but today his brow furrowed with consternation at what he considered to be the idiocy of his half-wit brother. And though Loki had come to know that he was not really Odin's son, part of him could never quite shake the notion that yes, this simple minded, yet oddly endearing fool, Thor, was indeed his brother. It was just something that had been engrained so deeply into him that he could not quite shake the idea. There was a strange comfort in knowing that he could not genetically share his simplicity but there was also a jealousy.

Odin wanted this fool to be king. The man who had called them both son had selected the large oaf instead of Loki to rule because of the accident of his birth, breaking the unspoken promise that he, Loki, the intelligent one, the sly one, would one day be king of Asgard!

Now Loki looked upon the rugged, muscular, blond, with the goofy grin and longed for the physical strength to punch him into unconsciousness.

"Oh, I would say it is funny, brother." Thor said goodnaturedly, "In your life you have successfully spawned the following children. Narfi, who in turn is the father of Nótt, the Night. And that's all well and good. My lightning is brightest by twilight blue canvas. Then you also have Vali, and he is a fine boy as well, he eats like a wolf but there's no shame in that. But then you have Jórmungandr, a serpent. A serpant, Loki! How did you manage that?"

The mischief God's face was becoming red. Being mocked was bad enough but now the great fool was mocking his offspring. His slender hands clenched into fists as the great buffoon continued on his joyous rant.

"Then you have Fenrir, The wolf. Both from the giantess Angrboda! How drunk were you that night?"

Loki was trying to ignore him as they walked side by side down the great hall. Loki's form was a stark contrast to Thor's own stature. Thor was taller, more muscular while Loki was lean, wiry, and graceful. While Thor walked tall and proud, Loki slouched slightly as if always preparing to hide behind something at any given notice like a fox in the wild. Where Loki's clothes were of forest green (perfect for obscuring oneself among trees), Thor's armor was complimented by a very red, long cape. And Thor carried in his hand the great hammer, Mjölnir, that no one else had the power to wield. Loki had a bit of jealousy about that too…

Thor's expression was of child-like innocence. He did not mean any real offense by what he said. Wasn't teasing something bothers were supposed to do? There was no malice in his mocking. No. On the contrary. There was love. There had always been love. Did Loki know this? It was hard to say.

"Then there is your daughter."

Loki's voice became tense, angry. "What about my daughter?"

"Oh, nothing. It's a fine thing. A fine thing that she should attend to the souls of the departed mortals of Midgard. You should be proud!" Midgard was their term for Earth, the middle realm of their own cultural view of reality.

Loki finally relaxed a little and maybe there was a twitch of a smile.

"Of course she IS half-skeleton… Oh, but I have saved the best for last, there is your final son."

Now Loki was humiliated. He knew which one Thor was speaking of.

"Sleipnir, the eight legged horse that YOU gave birth to!"

Loki's hand slapped to his face and slid down his features.

"YOU are a Mother, Loki. I shan't allow you to live that down. Did it hurt delivering unto the world a creature with eight holves?"

"Tremendously…" Loki grumbled in more annoyance than anything else though, yes, it had been a painful labor…

Loki stopped in his walk with Thor. "You mock my children. One day, brother, you will know this humiliation."

Thor chuckled. "Oh, I bear no ill-will, brother. I merely jest. And I am certain you have grandchildren to be proud of, do you not?"

"Grandchildren…" An idea struck Loki abruptly. He knew something Thor did not, something that would serve to his favor. He had been present some night when Thor had decided to show off his power. And now it was time to play that card.

"Yes, of course. Hel is a mother. Her son Krampus, the demon, enslaved by Saint Nicholas..."

Thor looked puzzled and a growing pity for Loki. There was nothing funny about his grandchild being enslaved. "Saint… Nicholas? But we do not-"

Loki interrupted him, "Beings of power from other realms also have their names and titles in Midgard, Brother. I know not their origin and this one has taken my grandson as his slave. But Krampus was a wild thing anyway. I am sure he can free himself eventually and if not than Hel may retrieve him at some point." He said calmly.

Now it was Thor who looked troubled while Loki's expression shifted to a grin. Their moods had seesawed.

Loki clapped a hand on Thor's shoulder. "Brother. He resides in the Northern Polar region of Midgard. I should like to check in on my grandson." He had little care for the long tongued demon, Krampus, who St. Nicholas used to frighten and punish the misbehaving children of the place known as Germany, but he had another reason to go to Midgard and drag Thor along for the ride.

Thor nodded, even considering liberating Krampus for Loki's sake if Krampus was sane enough to function as a free being of intellect, unlike Loki's rather animalistic eight legged horse-child. 'Of course I will accompany you!"

3

Mother?

Victor Frankenstein was dead and he, Victor's creation, was alone in the world now, his soul aching, not just with the sense that no one could ever accept him, but with the guilt of his own past misdeeds that haunted his imagination and memory. The only other living being that knew the story of his origin was Captain Walton, who by now, was heading back home, having abandoned his plans of conquering the frozen North.

The Creature was pained by his loneliness, and with the guilt of the lives he had taken. He longed to undo his own crimes, to somehow atone for his sins. He looked up at the Northern lights and muttered a prayer of penance to a God that he was not sure could forgive his existence, let alone his terrible crimes. But as he watched the gentle movements of colored light he saw something strange. A bean of harsher, rainbow-like colors and light swirled like a spiraling rainbow, yet concentrated in rods of energy, came falling from the sky at the near distance.

The God of Thunder stood in the snow. The smaller of the two, The God of mischief seemed as untroubled by the cold as the tall creature moving toward them in the early morning light. Thor stood ready for a possible attack.

The Creature wore a large cloak around his near skeletal frame and paused in his walk. The wind swept his long black hair into his marred face, hiding the tightly drawn skin and some of the scarring. It was a mercy to have some of his features obscured.

"Who are you, Creature?" Thor asked the being.

The Creature shook his head. He loathed to admit that he had never been given a name, it only added to his sense of isolation. But it struck him that these two figures did not seem afraid of the strangeness of his appearance. "I …-" *he worked up the bravery to respond properly and swallowed back his insecurity in a gulp. When he spoke his words were well announciated, clear, and slightly accented with a Germanic-French accent.* "-…could ask of you the same thing. From where doth thou come? You descended as if angels from Heaven and yet I know you not to be such."

"Oh, brother." Loki said with an old sense of wry irony in his whispered words, "'Thees' and 'Thous.' Its English is more archaic than yours…"

The Creature had heard Loki and gave him a sharp look.

Loki recalled, all too well, previous experiences with unusually tall beings, and experience with irrational rage. He scrambled back, behind Thor, just in case The Creature responded with violence to the possible offense.

Loki was quite certain he could best this Creature but he loathed the idea of even being hurt in an unnecessary battle.

The Creature spoke. "You would judge me for my language? Not for-" He looked down at his long hands and the scarring of a thumb that had been attached with long gone stitching, and similar scarring at a wrist, where threads had once held the limbs together. The flesh had healed but the tell-tale scars remained.

"We have seen stranger than the likes of you, friend." Thor said in a pleasant, friendly tone. He no longer saw this being as a threat.

"But who are you?" The Creature asked in curiosity. He lowered his hands, grateful that the question of his own identity seemed to be temporary forgotten.

"I am Thor of Asgard, God of Thunder!" He said as he dramatically lifted up the great hammer, Mjölnir, upon announcing himself.

The Creature nervously drew his cloak tighter around himself. He wondered if he should tell this man that he only believed in one God, the God that Milton wrote of in his Paradise Lost… But this world was a strange place and perhaps the polytheistic religions were correct and his beloved Milton was wrong. The Creature humored the thought for a moment and for just that moment he felt cold with the doubt of what little he had… his faith. He did not want to lose that too… The chill hit him for the first time. The Creature, like Loki, seemed immune to physical cold, but now he was made to doubt his beliefs. And in his insecurity he clutched his ragged cloak tightly around himself. He looked at Thor quizzically and then at the dark haired figure clad in green.

"And you?"

Thor spoke for Loki "He is Loki, God of Mischief."

The Creature's head was swimming at a sudden and perhaps profound realization. Victor Frankenstein had been his father. And now here before him was The God of Thunder… That is to say, if what the man said was true, if he really was a diety that created Thunder that would mean…

"And you are… The God of …Thunder?" The Creature asked Thor again to be certain.

"That's right." Thor beamed.

"Does this mean that you bear within your hand the power to conjure both thunder and lightning, the wind and the rain?"

"Yes, I bring the thunder and the lightning." He could sense something in this creature that hinted ad admiration and respect and Thor could not help but to revel in that.

Loki seemed to be sulking behind Thor with his arms folded, not bothered by the ice and snow under their feet but bored with the praise that Thor seemed to be anticipating.

Feeling the need to give a demonstration, to prove himself to this possible deciple, Thor raised Mjölnir into the air. He could feel a sort of electric-like energy rush into him, coursing down into his arms and through his hair, and also rising from the ground into his feet, up his legs and up his spine. He enjoyed that familiar and powerful tingle. There was a rumble as dark, pendulous clouds gathered over head. There was a great crack and rumble of thunder, a crashing followed by the streaking of mighty and gorgeous lightning, dancing across the heavy, silver clouds.

The Creature's breath temporarily seemed to catch in his throat. "You create the lightning?" The Creature asked again as if making certain of something profound.

"Yes, that's right." Thor nodded, lowering his hammer.

Loki's expression was shifting to a grin. He could sense what was to come before Thor could even guess at it…

The Creature looked into Thor's kindly eyes with growing adoration. And then he asked softly as if fearing rejection, "…Mother?"

The word had been soft, uttered with a gentle uncertainty, but Thor heard it and he understood it and it had felt like a blow of a hammer to his gut because in that instant something inside of him understood it to be somehow true. There would be no rejection, just utter confusion from the God of Thunder until he could understand just what had been revealed here. His shoulders slumped and he stared blankly at the corpse-like figure with the pleading, pitiful eyes.

Thor's mouth hung agape as he stared in utter confusion.

The world seemed silent in this frozen tundra and then it came. It was abrupt and it broke the silence like a knife. The cackling, maniacal laughter of a God of Mischief who had gained revenge by simply introducing a child to its mother…

The laughter echoed through the sky. Loki doubled over, holding his own belly with the howls of his own laughter.

Thor stood with slumped shoulders, slowly coming to accept and understand his peculiar offspring- born of his lightning- that stood before him with the awkward uncertainty of a lost child…

Loki was still laughing when Thor finally put a hand on his son's shoulder.

The End