tikific | The Chibi Demon Hunters of Asgard

Title: The Chibi Demon Hunters of Asgard (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: G
Summary: Don’t tangle with angel babies
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing
Notes: This one contains a pretty big spoiler for Chapter 43 if you haven’t read it yet. Also, to be clear, this takes place a year or two IN THE FUTURE in the continuity.

Not too many years from now....

Somewhere in the gardens of Asgard sat a young maiden with raven hair and cornflower blue eyes.

She was a very, very young maiden.

If she had been able to talk - or at least to talk so any grownups in the vicinity might understand - she would have described her current activity as playing Pretty Pretty Princess. The game so far went as thus: Pretty Pretty Princess, who wore robes of sparkling pink and sported very stylish glittery purple hair, rode her rainbow colored magical steed off to meet the terrible demon.

Suddenly, the demon was nigh!!

With one strike of her sharp little sword, Pretty Pretty Princess disemboweled the beast.

The organs fell, steaming, to the ground with a satisfying plop.

And then she beheaded the terrible monster with a clean blow of her shining blade. The blood shot out in a lovely crimson gusher. Victory!

As it happened. Lady Abigail was so intent upon this narrative that she was surprised to look up and find an actual demon staring down at her.

It was a bog demon, one that was rather common to find in the clearings of these parts. It was a rather huge beast: larger even than William Murderface off his diet, it must have weighed at least a ton. It spent its days trundling about on four legs, looking for young maidens to annoy. Its huge gnarled head was now inches from hers, terrible nostrils flared and snorting, saliva dribbling from the corners of its fanged mouth.

It really wasn’t all that different from William Murderface off his diet.

As Abby blinked and clutched Pretty Pretty Princess to her, the demon scowled and trod maliciously on her noble steed with one great hooved foot.

Lady Abigail, smart beyond her years, beat a strategic retreat in order to fetch reinforcements. She ran along on her very short legs until she found her brother, Lord Liam, and cousin, Elias (title as yet to be determined, though he definitely had an assortment of colorfully titled relatives).

Said acquaintances had demurred the playing of Pretty Pretty Princess as they were currently wallowing in their own version of Boy Nirvana. They had found a muddy patch in the same field possessed of numerous ugly bog slugs. They were currently in an informal but nonetheless spirited (not to mention terribly muddy) contest to locate the largest and ugliest.

They looked up to behold the damsel in distress in their midst. Although, as we have discussed, Abby was not yet possessed of adult speech, she made her distress clear through the universal language of blubbering. Lord Liam at first attempted comfort by displaying to her a particularly large and gnarled slug, but, oddly, his sister would have none of that. It was up to the young swain, Elias, to give comfort with a rather sticky, slobbery kiss and then a hug inside one of his silvery tipped wings.

"Gwungle," Abby explained, wiping her tears on a frilly sleeve.

Well of course, this terrible injustice could not go unmet. As son of a king, Liam decided to take immediate action. “Blarrghabranggle!” he told them, and there was much agreement with the suggestion.

The bog demon, foul thing, was still sitting in the exact same spot, idly chewing on Pretty Pretty Princess’s noble steed. Modern plastics being what they were, it had found, much to its frustration and puzzlement, that its vicious fangs had as yet been ineffective in causing any damage to the item.

Suddenly, the demon reeled. A small angel, fluttering overhead on silver-tipped wings, had just dumped an armload of bog slugs on its head. Bog demons hate bog slugs, as they find them icky. It stood in panic and tried to shake off the slugs, and then, having no luck, bolted.

And was felled. It looked back, now panicking. Much like William Murderface, the beast had a limited range of reactions to danger, and it had just exhausted its list. To its dismay, it spied a small, golden-haired angel standing behind. Said angel had the beast's pointed tail in a tiny vise-like grip, preventing its passage.

The beast swung its ugly head to look forward, and was confronted now by a pair of scowling, cornflower-blue eyes.

Little Abby head-butted the beast. Its eyes rolled up into its head, and it keeled over, releasing Pretty Pretty Princess’s noble steed from its mouth.

Abby picked up the slobbery pony in triumph. She was soon surrounded by Liam and Elias, gabbling with sweet, sweet victory.

It was at this point that some adults arrived on the scene.

"Oh my gods, what happened here? Abby? I've told you and told you, don't dress a purple haired doll in pink!" Lady Raziel informed her child, shaking Pretty Pretty Princess for emphasis.

“You need to secure this one,” Ganesh told Sariel, looking over their mud-encrusted son, who was currently holding up a slug for their approval. “Viscose!” Ganesh explained, holding out one of his own sleeves.

“Why are you always wearing weird shit when our kid is sticky?” Sariel asked suspiciously, clasping the giggling boy.

“I make a practice to always wear weird shit,” Ganesh grinned.

"Why don't ye just turn the doll's hair pink?" Wotan asked Abby, hefting Lord Liam.

"SHE CAN'T HAVE PINK HAIR WITH A PINK DRESS!" Raziel insisted.

"Wunchie wunchie," Abby babbled.

Ganesh and Raziel gawped at each other.

"Did she say matchy-matchy?" Ganesh cried.

Raziel and Ganesh were instantly surrounding the tot.

"She knows her faux pas!" Raziel squealed in delight.

"Say haute couture! Say it for Uncle!" Ganesh urged.

"Uhhh. Can we take the boys and go smoke cigars?" Sariel asked Wotan.

“Sounds good,” the god agreed. “And perhaps whiskey? And slugs?” he asked, picking one of the same off his collar.

“What’s up with that bog demon?” Sariel asked as the party began to make its way towards Valhalla, indicating the unconscious beast in their midst.

“I dunno," Wotan confessed, hefting Liam to his shoulders. "Lazy bastard probably fell asleep. C’mon, quit dilly dallying, let’s go get some dinner!”