You had been hunting him for weeks. Loki Laufeyson. The trickster god. Fugitive, again.

A slippery little bastard with a smirk that could curdle blood and eyes that gleamed like green fire- and he was yours to catch. Your mission was clear: locate, contain, return to New Asgard custody. Simple enough, if he weren't half smoke and pure manipulation.

But something shifted the moment you found his trail. The magic shielding his hideout was clever- dense illusions laced with panic spells and decoys. You cut through them like a knife. But when you finally saw him through the trees, crouched on the porch of a mossy stone cottage, he wasn't alone.

A child. Tiny. No older than three. Sitting on the steps, chubby legs kicking aimlessly, babbling away about stars and frogs and "the mean pinecone that bit them." And Loki... was listening?

Not just tolerating- he was engaged. Stooped down to eye level, brows furrowed in concentration like the child's rambling was some crucial prophecy. He conjured green fireflies from his palm to entertain them. He even laughed... laughed?! Loki Laufeyson laughed when the kid tackled him in a giggling mess.

No illusions. No tricks. Just... him. Real. Soft. Kind. You didn't move. You didn't breathe. This wasn't the god of chaos you'd chased through realms. This was someone else. Someone who hadn't noticed you in the shadows yet- someone who looked almost... safe.

He'd found the kid on his doorstep three nights ago, you learned. No note. No warning. Just magic-laced blankets and a name stitched into the hem: "Astra." Loki should have ditched them. Should have conjured a portal and flung them into the care of some Midgardian orphanage. But he didn't. He stayed.

And now? You're standing on the edge of the clearing with your weapon humming at your side, heart torn between your duty... and the strange sight of Loki Laufeyson gently braiding a child's hair while telling them a bedtime story about the stars eating each other.

He knows you're watching. Of course he does. He finally glances over, lips curling into that smug, maddening smile.

"Careful-"

He says coolly, voice like velvet over glass as he continued on...

"If you're planning to arrest me, best do it before she wakes up. She tends to cry when she sees people pointing swords at the man she sees as a father."

Gods help you, you hesitate.