I woke up slowly. No idea what time it was. Didn't care either.
For a moment, I just lay there, trying to figure out why everything felt different. Then it hit me.
I was home.
God, I missed this bed. The mattress was warm, soft, everything Loki's cell hadn't been. Weeks of sleeping on frozen stone, of cold seeping into my bones until I couldn't remember what warmth felt like—that had been my reality for too damn long. Now I was surrounded by Egyptian cotton sheets and memory foam, and it felt like the height of luxury.
Then I noticed the lumps scattered across my bed. I couldn't help but smile.
Sona was pressed against my left side, her dark hair spread across my chest, one arm draped possessively over my ribs. On my right, Rossweisse had somehow managed to curl up into the smallest possible space while still maintaining contact while her hand rested on my shoulder.
Kuroka had claimed the spot at my feet, though she'd migrated during the night and was now sprawled across my legs, tail twitching in her sleep. And Koneko... Koneko had wedged herself between Sona and the edge of the bed, small but unmovable.
Last night, they'd all decided they'd be sleeping beside me.
Of course, why the hell would I refuse? After weeks of isolation, of nothing but cold and pain and Loki's mocking laughter, being surrounded by the people I loved most was exactly what I needed.
I shifted carefully, trying to sit up without waking anyone.
Sona's grip on my ribs tightened automatically, and she made a soft noise of protest in her sleep. I froze, waiting, but she didn't wake. Just held on tighter.
I sighed.
Yeah, I wasn't going anywhere.
*****
3rd POV
Loki's consciousness clawed its way back to awareness like a drowning man breaking the surface of dark water.
For a moment, he couldn't understand where he was.
The memories crashed over him in waves—millennia of agony stretched across what his rational mind knew had only been minutes. Every torture he'd inflicted on Leon returned to him a thousandfold, each moment of cruelty magnified until it became an eternity of suffering.
He'd experienced death countless times in that red-tinged hell. Felt his divine form torn apart, rebuilt, and destroyed again in an endless cycle of retribution. The human—no, the monster—had crafted each torment with precision, targeting not just his body but the very essence of what made him a god.
What kind of monster had he messed with?
The thought gnawed at him, eating away at centuries of divine pride. Loki, the god of mischief, the cunning trickster who had outwitted giants and gods alike for millennia, had been played like a fool by a mere mortal. The humiliation burned worse than any physical pain the illusion had inflicted.
But even as he tried to dismiss it, Loki knew better. His enhanced divine senses, his vast knowledge of magic and illusion—everything told him the experience had been genuine. Somehow, impossibly, Leon Mishima had trapped him in a perfect recreation of hell and made him suffer for what felt like eons.
Loki tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Golden chains wrapped around his arms and legs, The chains wasn't just binding his physical form—it was actively draining his divinity, weakening him with every passing second.
His pride rebelled against the very notion, but the evidence was undeniable. He was trapped, helpless, at the mercy of the very human he'd sought to break.
He looked down at the floor beneath him. Intricate symbols covered the stone, glowing with a soft light.
Even through his disorientation, his vast knowledge of magic allowed him to recognize the formation's purpose. A nullification circle. Every spell he might attempt, every divine authority he could call upon, would be absorbed and rendered useless.
The realization hit him .
He couldn't escape.
He was completely and utterly trapped.
Still even then, he couldn't help but wonder how Leon Mishima escaped?
He planned for everything. He doesn't make mistakes like that.
But somewhere, somehow, his perfect plan had crumbled. And now he was the one in chains while Leon Mishima stood free.
How?
How?
How?
Loki gritted his teeth.
Then a voice resounded through the chamber, cutting through his spiraling thoughts like
"You must be wondering how I escaped."
It was Leon. And that damn infuriating smile of his.
"Mishima," he managed to grit out.
"You look confused. That's... unusual for the great god of mischief, isn't it? Your binding was perfect and absolute. I cannot destroy it."
"Then how—"
"Ah ah ah." Leon waggled a finger, that maddening smile never wavering. "Where's the fun in just telling you? You're the trickster god. The master of schemes. Surely you can figure it out."
The condescending tone struck Loki like a slap across the face. For millennia, he had been the one in control. The one pulling strings while others danced to his tune. Now the roles were reversed, and the humiliation was almost unbearable.
Loki's mind raced through every possible scenario and outcome. He'd made sure Mishima wouldn't be able to break it on his own.
On his own…
The thought stopped him cold.
It all clicked into place like pieces of a puzzle falling together.
Someone helped him.
But that was impossible. The oath had been specific. Leon couldn't seek outside aid to forcibly break free.
Unless…
"Looks like you got it," Leon said, seeing the enlightenment dawn across Loki's face.
Loki's eyes widened as the implications crashed over him. There were only a handful of beings powerful enough to interfere with a divine oath of that magnitude.
Who could it be?
Odin? Possibly.
Thor? The thunder god lacked the subtlety for such a scheme.
Freya? She had the power, but no motivation.
The thought of it being his own daughter didn't even cross Loki's mind. Hel had always been distant, cold, but she was still his blood. His creation. She wouldn't betray her own father.
Would she?
Before Loki could spiral deeper into possible suspects, Leon spoke again.
The thought of it being her own daughter did not even pass on Loki's mind.
Before Loki could spiral on the possible suspects. Leon spoke again.
"You know what, I've learned something about myself during my time in your little prison." Leon's voice had lost all pretense of casual conversation. Now it carried the weight of finality.
"Wait," Loki said, his voice cracking as understanding dawned. "Wait, you can't—"
"Can't what?" Leon interrupted, his voice cold. "Kill you? Why not? You tortured me for weeks. You threatened everyone I care about. You've caused nothing but suffering and chaos wherever you go."
"Please," Loki whispered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. The god of mischief, who had faced down Thor's hammer and Odin's spear, found himself reduced to begging. "I... I can make a deal. An oath. I'll leave you alone. I'll—"
The golden chains around Loki's limbs seemed to tighten as he struggled against them.
"Your oaths mean nothing,"
A familiar weight materialized in Leon's right hand as Lævateinn materialized.
"Please," he whispered one final time. "Please, I'll do anything. I'll—"
"I know you would," Leon said, raising Lævateinn above his head. "That's exactly why you can't be allowed to live."
The blade came down in a perfect arc, piercing through divine flesh and bone to embed itself directly in Loki's heart.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then Leon whispered a single word: "Burn."
Lævateinn's true power activated.
Golden flames erupted from within Loki's chest, spreading outward through his body.
Loki's scream shattered the air as he began burning from the inside out. The fire consumed him slowly, each second stretching into an eternity of agony as his divine nature was unraveled thread by thread.
His divine authority, his immortality, his connection to the concepts of mischief and chaos itself—all of it turned to ash.
And then the god of mischief was no more.
Leon stood over the smoldering remains, watching as the last of the divine fire faded. The golden chains that had bound Loki turned to nothingness, no longer needed.
After a while, Leon felt a presence behind him.
He didn't turn around. He didn't need to.
"I am not sorry for killing your father," Leon said.
"I know," Hel replied, her voice carrying the weight of sorrow and acceptance. "Neither am I."
Leon stood in the silence that followed.
"This changes nothing between us, Leon Mishima," she said quietly. "We are not allies. We are not friends. What happened here was necessity, nothing more."
"I understand," Leon replied.
Hel nodded once then she stepped into the shadows beyond the doorway and vanished.
Leon stared at the empty doorway where she had disappeared, his eyes thoughtful. Something told him that this wouldn't be their last meeting.
Leon looked once more at the spot where Loki had died, then turned and walked toward the exit.
He had people waiting for him.
The god of mischief was gone, but Leon's story was far from over.
====
If you'd like to read ahead and support me, feel free to check it out: [email protected]/VashFF