Authors Note: This story takes place in an AU or modern day Norway, with a twist that men can have children. The parings of this story include Thor/Loki, Thor/Jane, Loki/Human!Svaðilfari, Loki/OMC

ooo

My name is Loki Laufeyson and I was born with an unfortunate burden; existence. Since I could walk, misfortune has followed in my footsteps. But for what it is worth, I have had my fair share of good fortunes. I am the mother of three beautiful angels. Next to a few boxes of things, they are all I have left in this World. I have decided to break away from the world I once knew and start over. As a single mother all I have is my loves and enough money to get me through to the next month. Oh my precious angel-

"MOM! I HAVE TO PEE!"

"OWW! STOP HITTING ME!"

"When will we get there?"

"I'm thirsty..."

With a quick whip of my head I turn my head at the first red light and bellow,

"Silence! We have five more minutes! I will turn this car around and we will have to live with Grandpa again!" As if by some horrible joke deemed by the god of misfortune, my eldest inherited my quick whit.

"Good. At least we will be closer to Dad." I take what I had said back about the little angels. I will be lucky if I don't drive off of the next cliff I pass.

ooo

My life wasn't always so chaotic. I was young once- I still am but behind the wrinkles and stress lines, it will never be the same. I was born into a cold political empire. My father known to the world as Laufey (but father to everyone related to him,) raised my two older brothers and I alone after my mother died, or ran away to her favorite bar in Mexico, or just decided to no longer be our mother (I'm not really sure the story always changed.) Whatever the reason, I was to blame and so at the age of four, when I could understand how to take care of myself, my isolation began. My father was too busy with his political seat to pay me attention so I learned to act out, to play pranks on the staff and torture my brothers with petty revenge. I was a god awful son but it got me the attention I craved in the form of a scolding. I never misbehaved in public, for if a camera man were to see, my life was over. As the scrawny, pale son of a tall, proud family, I never fit in with the rest of them.

Things got better as time moved on and I could attend school. Though isolated and teased by my peers I found comfort in the finest literature the towns decrepit library had to offer. I remember it smelled of stale coffee and cigarette smoke, an odd combination but relaxing. I made myself a second home there where the books became my closest friends. I no longer needed to act out for they were there to pay their regards to me. How I miss a good book. I haven't had time to read anything besides a second hand road map and papers filling for child support. Lovely. But as I digress, the books were replaced by love.

At the age of sixteen, father sealed my fate by forcing me to take up the noble sport of horseback riding. For the five weeks I spent there, I had gained a friend and by terrible miscalculation, I lost him. At sixteen and a half I was pregnant. At seventeen with a week until graduation I went into labor. After fifteen hours of agony in a dark hospital room, all by myself besides the morphine-fixed quibbling old man as my neighbor, and a rather impatient doctor, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. I did not graduate and by the time I went home, father had thrown my things on the front lawn. Within a week I had lost everything; my home, my family, my friends, and my youth.

ooo

It is an ugly house. Ugly and fucking tasteless house. My rental home definatly looked the price I put a down payment on. Like a cheap whore who let herself go through years of neglect and disease, this house was just as awful to look at as it was humiliating to be seen with. Grey paint, the color of a faded wolves mane lays cracked and peeled from the outside walls. The roof top covered in thick patches of moss, one brick red fireplace sprouting out to make it seem less like a neglected cabin in the woods. Its porch looks like the boys should stay away from it, for it could crack into thousands of pieces or swallow up little legs. The lawn was a jungle of death. Not a single blade of the long grass was any shade of green. In fact the only living thing in sight is a giant oak tree standing between the cute and trendy red house next door, and my shit rental.

I parked in the hardly used driveway and let all my aches and pains escape as the boys, Fenrir pushing and making it out first to leave the first trail in the dying grass land in years. It went up to his knees but the wild one was out on another playful adventure. Sleipnir hesitated to exit at first but when he got moving it was with a huff. He was stubborn, impatient, and rebellious, all like his dear mother but resentful of our relationship. Since he was the oldest, he had suffered the most and his attitude reflects that of a scared boy who had to grow up fast. He is the oldest and since Hels birth he has taken the responsibility of the man of the house. Cute, in a heartbreaking fashion, he doesn't want it. And I don't blame him.

Sleipnir goes exploring on his own around the place and I dash inside with a couple of boxes. Once I'm inside, it isn't as bad as the outside. In fact I am growing very fond of this place. It has a certain, what's the word I'm looking for... Yes charm. Charm indeed. With the vomit colored shag carpets in all rooms but the kitchen and lemon yellow heavily used furniture, the place looked like a time machine. The seventies were still alive and clashing two of the least eye pleasing colors was trendy. This place definatly ranks number three on my worst living experiences ever. Oh and it can only go up from here.