R.C. Tales

 Loki leans against a rock, staring into the fire. The embers glow like dying stars, flickering, fading just like the world once did. He exhales, tilting his head. "You already know how my son, Fenrir, broke free. Good. But Ragnarök? Oh, that was so much more. Let me tell you how the world really burned." “ Alright, the young kid told me to add this historical fact. Are you happy now? In any case, I still believe that the version in which I began Ragnarok by stealing Thor's left sock was better. Whatever. ” The first sign wasn’t the war. No, no. The first sign was the wolves. Sköll and Hati , my dear little hunters, had been chasing the sun and moon since the beginning of time. And on that fated day, they finally caught them. With a snap of their jaws, the sky went black. No warmth, no light just endless night stretching across the Nine Realms. And oh, how the world panicked! They always thought the gods would protect them, that Odin would always sit on his golden throne...

Loki leans back, stretching his arms with a sigh. “Ah, now this is a story worth telling. One of chaos, revenge, and the end of all things. My dear son, Fenrir trapped, betrayed, bound like an animal. But even the strongest chains break, little listeners. And when they do…” he grins, eyes flickering like fire, “all of Asgard burns.” ” He whispered in a low voice "Ragnarok!"  The First Sign Loki sad and excited at the same time "For centuries, Fenrir lay bound in Gleipnir , that cursed ribbon of lies, deep beneath the earth. The gods thought themselves clever, tricking him, taking my son’s trust and feeding him betrayal. Tyr, that noble fool, paid the price with his hand but was that enough? No. The wolf's rage simmered, growing stronger with every passing year.  First, Fimbulwinter winter so long and harsh that even the bravest warriors froze in their sleep. No crops, no warmth, only the endless, biting cold. Then, the great tree  Yggdrasil  trembled, shaking i...

Loki sat by the fire, a little sad running a hand through his hair. His usual trickster smile was there, but softer more tired and sadder. He turned his gaze to the flames, watching them dance and eat everything which ignites it like the character of this story. "Tonight, little listeners, I’ll tell you a story not of warriors or gods, but of a son.  My  son." "He let out a slow breath, the firelight flickering against his sharp features. "A son I could not protect." A Pup Too Large for Their Comfort "The gods, in all their wisdom, have a habit of fearing what they do not understand. And fear? It turns even the mightiest into cowards." Loki tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "When Fenrir was born, he was no monster. He was a pup, warm and full of life. A child who, despite his size, only ever wanted to be accepted. But the gods looked at him and saw not a son, not a brother only a prophecy waiting to unfold." He clenched his jaw for a...