I am back! I wanted to write this story for the longest time and now I finally can do it! This story delves deeper in the past of Loki's kids and hopefully makes sense for those who are wondering how and why Loki has kids that are never mentioned in the MCU. I didn't really like how they made Hela to be Odin' daughter in Thor Ragnarok because in the myths and the comics, Hela is Loki's daughter. I came up with a whole backstory to explain why Thor and Loki never knew about the kids and to connect their past to the present. And without out further ado, I present to you:

A Little Bit of Mischief

Chapter One: Of Course, He's a Horse

Darkness, pain, and then…nothing. Nothing yet, everything. His mind went clear, the most focused that he had ever been before.

The normal, overwhelming scents of the royal horse stable that he had grown used to were suddenly harder to ignore. The musty smell of hay a few days old filled his nostrils. Someone's stall was in desperate need of a clean. Hunger pangs rumbled in his stomach but the mushy oats in his trough no longer looked appetizing.

Something seemed off.

Everything that seemed so normal, so clearly defined, no longer felt the same way, no longer clear. He stopped taking pride in his role as the king's steed. The other horses were jealous of his status but looking different made him an outcast of the herd.

The other horses knew their purpose and had simple minds but he felt different. Not only did he have four extra legs then a regular horse but he could also think like a person.

A person. He was related to someone famous, wasn't he? The king? Possibly. Somehow, someway, he needed to find out.

All he needed to do was remember. Memories that he didn't know he even had started flooding his brain. Memories of two kids, a young boy with black hair and bright green eyes and a taller, older boy with golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes that were crinkled up in laughter. A small wolf pup who bounded through the garden, chasing a butterfly. The feel of a snake curled up on the top of his head, the snake's little red tongue flickering in and out of his view as he took in his surroundings. An adorable baby girl, giggling as the dark-haired boy held her and brushed her wavy, black hair away from her face. Their names escaped him; however, his own refused to come back to him.

He could remember these people, these creatures, but he couldn't remember his name. His name. What was his name? It started with an 's.'

S-S-Sleip-Sleipnir! His name was Sleipnir and he was much more than just a horse with eight legs. He was much more than just the king's steed; he was someone else, someone who could do special things that a regular horse could not.

Asgard. He was on Asgard in the suddenly stifling royal stables. The other horses were eating their lunch of blended oats and wheat or grazing outside in the pastures.

Sleipnir watched a rat climb up the leg of his food trough and nibble on his food. Good, at least someone liked it.

Feeling suddenly thirsty, Sleipnir walked over to his water trough. Taking a few sips of the dirty water refreshed him a bit but his reflection caught him off guard.

The stable boy had braided part of his mane, keeping the hair out of his hazel eyes. His black mane faded out to brown, standing out against his light gray coat. His teeth were surprisingly straight and pearly white, unlike most of the other horses.

His reflection looked much more detailed now that he could think clearly. And he thought he looked rather well, considering that he never knew what he looked like before.

Sleipnir huffed, sending little ripples in the water to flow away from him. His horse stall felt too cramped and the smell of the horse next to him started to give him a headache.

Do horses get headaches? Do horses even question if they get headaches? What was happening to him?

Awful, he felt awful. His stomach suddenly rolled and he tried to push down his breakfast so that he wouldn't get sick in his cramped stall.

His life suddenly felt boring. It was the same thing almost every day, Wake up, eat, run around in the grazing pasture, eat, run around some more, go to training, eat, and then go back to sleep. Every day the schedule was the same. He usually got to go out more than the other horses because King Odin took him whenever he went on a diplomatic trip or for some other reason that the king needed to travel somewhere.

Being only fourteen, he was rather young for the other horses although most horses lived to be twice his age. He knew that the system for ages between the Aesir and horses was different but he felt like his age coincided with the Aesir.

A loud 'neigh' shook Sleipnir from his thoughts. A stable boy with dirty blonde hair and a splash of freckles on his face was trying to calm down the horse across from Sleipnir's stall.

Adella, that was the mare's name. She was about the same age as him, well, at least, rather young compared to the rest of the herd. Her blonde mane stood out against her brown coat. Sleipnir always had a small crush on her but he still felt bad for the stable boy when Adella gave him a kick on the shin for trying to put a saddle on her. The boy crumpled and dropped the leather saddle.

"Damn you, stupid horse," the boy cursed, rubbing his shin where a hoove-sized bruise was going to start to form.

Adella snorted and gave Sleipnir an annoyed look. Years of living here let Sleipnir know that Adella didn't like being ridden; she enjoyed pulling carts instead. For some reason, saddles scared her but pulling heavier weights did not.

The boy gave up and closed the latch on Adella's stall door. He limped out of the stable, cursing the entire way.

Only when the stable doors slid shut with a small bang Adella calmed down. She paced her stall, huffing and shaking her mane.

Sleipnir watched her with interest. She was born in the stables around the time that he came here. He always liked her but he knew that he probably didn't have a choice on matters like that. The stable hands would sometimes talk about how they wanted to use Sleipnir to raise a new generation of war horses. Any time that they attempted anything like that, Sleipnir would kick and buck around until they gave up.

He knew he was gifted, memories of opening portals and teleporting that little, black-haired boy arose, but he didn't know if he could still do the same things on command. If Odin needed to travel to other realms, he used the Bifrost, not Sleipnir. Sleipnir wasn't even sure if anyone knew about his gift. He was stronger and quicker than the other horses and this gift only made him stand out even more. It could be useful but he was tired of being used.

He had grown weary of this place. The sights, the smells, the grumpy old man who would roughly brush his mane, everything no longer felt normal.

A sudden feeling of rebellion rushed through him. He had to leave; he couldn't stay. Someone needed him. He didn't know who - probably the snake, the girl, the wolf pup, or maybe the two boys.

He had to get out of here. He needed to find someone, find himself - his true self.

With a strong back-kick to the stall door, Sleipnir broke through the wood and stepped over the splintered wood. Adella whinnied and paced around her stall nervously. She wanted to know what Sleipnir was doing but he ignored her and focused on trying to find a way out.

At the noise, the stable boy came rushing back, this time with two other workers.

"The king's horse!" the boy shouted and pointed. Sleipnir froze, he had never been temperamental nor disobedient. The looks on the men's faces were usually enough to stop Sleipnir from continuing but the longing to find his siblings urged him forward.

One of the men, a tall, burly man with long, ginger hair tied back into a ponytail, held up a hand, trying to soothe Sleipnir's rebellion.

"Hey, there, boy," the ginger said calmly. Sleipnir had seen this trick enough to know that the man was trying to calm Sleipnir down so that he could wrangle him back into a stall. "Easy, now. We're not going to hurt you."

Yeah, right.

Suddenly bold, Sleipnir charged right through the trio. The stable boy yelped and dove into a hay pile to avoid being run over. The ginger managed to grab onto one of Sleipnir's hind legs but he let go after being dragged along for a few feet. The other man grasped at Sleipnir but he fell on his face, clinging to nothing but empty air.

Sleipnir ran through the open stable door and out into the fresh air. He galloped through the green pastures and took a flying leap over the fence. One look back showed that the two men were chasing over him. Sleipnir kept pushing on, running towards nothing, in particular, leaving the stables far behind.

Only when he couldn't see the stables anymore did he slow down to a walk. They would surely have a team out searching for him; it's not every day that the king's horse escapes. At least that gatekeeper man, Heimdall, no longer worked for the king. The new man couldn't see the universe so Sleipnir could hide easier. Nevertheless, he was easy to recognize with his eight legs.

What if he tried to change form? His mother, or father, one of the two, might have been able to do it. If they could, why couldn't he? If he could open portals, then changing form might be easier.

Closing his eyes, Sleipnir focused his energy into the center of his being. What if he had sedir, like one of his parents, did? He might have inherited some level of magic but he had yet to find out how much if any.

Ignoring the blinding headache that started pulsing behind his eyes, Sleipnir slowly started to shape his store of magic into an Aesir-like form. He imagined himself as an Asgardian teenage boy, someone who would easily blend in with the citizens of Asgard.

He stayed still for nearly five minutes, the process going slow so that he wouldn't make a fatal mistake. He didn't notice navy blue light swirling around him, shaping his body into what he would look like if he was a normal Asgardian.

The use of his little store of magic brought hidden memories rushing back:

The snake stabbing the blonde-haired boy while the dark-haired boy watched in shock...

The wolf pup curled up asleep, supporting the little girl as she napped...

The throne room of Asgard, King Odin sitting on his throne, gripping his staff grimly...

The dark-haired boy was crying and shouting something as he struggled against a guard who held him back. The blonde-haired boy was unconscious in the arms of another guard. The wolf pup growled while the snake snapped at a guard who tried to pick him up. The little girl cried into the shoulder of a darkly bearded man wearing strange, human-like clothing. King Odin didn't look too happy as he held up a hand towards Sleipnir's head. Sleipnir recoiled backward, ropes tugging on his neck, but Odin's hand landed on his head and he fell unconscious...

Sleipnir gasped in agony and shock. His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed onto the grass.

What had Odin done? He never had those memories before but they seemed plain as day. They were real. Was he cursed? Were his siblings cursed?

Sleipnir grabbed at the ground, trying to find an anchor back into reality. Siblings? He never had siblings before, unless…

A shudder ran down Sleipnir's spine. His siblings were separated by the king. He had two younger brothers and a younger sister. He was related to the dark-haired boy somehow. And Odin split them up. But for what?

Determination to find out gave Sleipnir energy to stand back up. He wobbled and tripped over his feet, feeling unbalanced and odd.

Looking down, Sleipnir noticed that his normal hooves were gone. Instead, they were replaced by two pale feet and long legs - normal, Asgardian legs. Shocked that he had accomplished some form of magic, Sleipnir tentatively held up his hands. His hands were the same pale color of skin and had five fingers on each hand. He looked normal. His mane was shorter, he noticed as he felt the top of his head, the hair soft and silky.

Sleipnir crawled on hands and knees towards a little puddle of water leftover from the rainstorm last night. His eyes were the same color but framed by dark eyelashes that made him look like he was constantly wearing eyeliner. He had high cheekbones and dark eyebrows. His hair was shorter on the sides and thicker towards the top in an ivy league hairstyle. His face had a mysterious but gentle look to it which almost matched his personality.

A small breeze made him realize that he didn't have any clothes on. His slender frame had a decent amount of muscle definition that would be impressive if he was human instead of Asgardian.

Sleipnir pushed himself to his feet, embarrassed but glad that nobody was around to see him completely bare. He needed to find something to cover himself up.

Keeping to the shadows and ducking behind any bush or tree that he found, Sleipnir slowly made his way towards the city market. He had been through there plenty of times to know that seamstresses and leather workers had a plentiful supply of clothes to sell.

He eventually made his way over, being careful not to be seen by anyone. Going to the city market might have been risky but he had no other options. Breaking into the palace would be more difficult because of the guards patrolling around it so Sleipnir crept around the backside of the market shops looking for a place to get clothes.

He could hear the crowd laughing and talking openly with each other as they sold and bought items. Little vendor tents or wooden shacks were lined up on either side of the road, sellers shouting out prices and trying to gain as much profit as possible.

Finally, he found a fancy shop selling men's and boy's clothes. After checking that nobody was looking, Sleipnir snatched a pair of black pants, calf-high boots that looked to be around his size, and a dark gray vest over a navy blue tunic. He also grabbed a pair of silver arm gauntlets and quickly got dressed.

Everything surprisingly fit and looked good on him. He felt bad for stealing but he needed it more than they did. Now that he looked decent, Sleipnir decided that he would need a weapon if he were to go find his siblings.

Stepping out of the shadows, Sleipnir joined the crowd to look for a vendor that sold weapons. He didn't have any money but maybe they would take pity on him since he was so confused and awkwardly tried not to trip over his feet.

"How are you doing there, son?" a tall man asked. He stood at least a foot taller than Sleipnir, and Sleipnir was already rather tall. His leather clothes were covered by an apron and leather gloves, the clothes of a blacksmith.

"You look lost," the man continued, his smile soft and gentle compared to his hard-worked face.

"I am," Sleipnir said slowly, unsure of how his voice worked. He hadn't talked before, well, the Aesir never understood him. "Do you know where to find a blacksmith?"

The man chuckled and motioned with his hand towards his shop. "You are in the right place, lad. Allow me to help you."

The man turned around and started rifling through his goods. Swords, axes, and spears hung on the walls. Daggers and shields were laid out on several tables. A single lantern lit up the inside of the shop with help from the front wall being completely removed to let in the sunlight.

"What exactly are you looking for?" the man asked.

"A sword?" Sleipnir replied. He hadn't fought before and never had any training so he just said the first weapon that came to mind.

"A sword," the man repeated. He mumbled to himself and decided on a longsword, the silver blade gleaming in the sunlight. The grip was wrapped in blue leather and had silver pommel and cross-guard.

"How is this one?" the man asked and laid the sword on a table. He placed the matching sheath next to the sword. "It will go well with your clothing."

Sleipnir gave an awkward smile and nodded.

"Wonderful," the man said. He slid the sword back into its sheath and pulled out a feather pen and a scroll of paper. "How will you be paying?"

Sleipnir blinked. He forgot that he didn't have any money. "I'm sorry?"

The man looked back up. "Payment, lad. I don't just hand out these for free."

Thinking quickly, Sleipnir came up with an excuse for why he didn't have any gold on him. He felt bad for lying but he needed something to protect himself with.

"Oh, there must be some misunderstanding," Sleipnir said, choosing his words carefully. "I am a messenger from the king. He told me to tell you to leave a tab open and we will pay you back for the sword. He is too busy to take care of simple matters like this so I was sent for him."

The man looked taken aback. "The king? Why, you certainly must be so, considering that the clothes you are wearing are from one of the most respected leatherworkers and seamstress. The couple may be old but they have been hired by the royal family for more than one occasion. I am so sorry for this misunderstanding. Tell the king that I am honored to serve him."

The man put a fist to his heart and bowed his head. Heat rushed up Sleipnir's cheeks, turning them red. He hoped that the man wouldn't notice as he handed over the sword and quickly wrote down a payment note for Sleipnir to give to the king.

Sleipnir tried to act normal as he walked away from the blacksmith. He strapped the sword around his waist and walked in the opposite direction of the palace. The Bifrost was his best bet if he were to leave Asgard. He had no idea where to go so he felt lost when he stepped into the giant, golden dome of the Bifrost.

A bald man with a dark beard and blue armour glared at him. A collection of odd junk and items were piled off onto the side.

"What do you want?" the man growled, clearly unhappy about having to stay at the Bifrost alone for an extended time.

"I am looking for my brother," Sleipnir replied. He stood up straighter, held his head up higher, and tried to look more confident when in all reality, the man kind of scared him.

The man scoffed. "I don't take requests to find lost siblings. Get lost, kid."

That man had started to get on his nerves. He wished Heimdall was here; he was a lot easier to work with and more compassionate.

"I don't think you understand," Sleipnir continued. "The king wanted me to find my brother so that we can help him with some problem that he has. My brother is not on Asgard and I am sort of on a deadline."

"That doesn't mean anything," the man said. "I-"

"I'm sure that you would not like to lose your status as gatekeeper," Sleipnir interrupted. "I would hate to have to explain to the king that his gatekeeper is refusing to take orders from him."

The man paused, contemplating. He cursed under his breath and stepped up onto the platform that held the sword to open the Bifrost.

"What is your brother's name?" the man asked, looking rather unhappy about taking orders from a teenager.

Sleipnir realized he didn't know his brother's name. Thinking hard, a name finally came to him.

"Jormungandr," Sleipnir said and walked towards the opening to wait for the man to open the Bifrost.

"Great."

The man twisted the sword in the holder. A rainbow of light swirled in the opening, replacing the view of the blue sky.

The force of the Bifrost tugged on him, sending Sleipnir off to Norns-knows-where.

Wherever the Bifrost sent him, Sleipnir hoped with his whole being to find his brother Jormungandr alive, to find answers about his past and to reunite his family that Odin had torn apart.

If you are interested, I wrote about Sleipnir's origin story in An Eight-Legged What? It explains a bit more about his past. And if you are wondering what Sleipnir looks like because my descriptive writing needs work, I have my website link in my profile where I have a character page. Until then, the next chapter is coming soon!