This story is written M for violence, a slight amount of sexuality, and swearing. This won't get MA, but I won't stinge on the romance. Without further ado, here is the full summary!
This story takes place after Thor but before The Avengers in A Clash of Kings/Storm of Swords. Loki never fell from the Bifrost, but was taken and tortured by his "family" for his part in the Frost Giant War and Thor's banishment. Loki decides not to put up with this and flees to a world that needs his cleverness and mischief. Meanwhile, Sansa Stark is a captive in King's Landing, and is saved by a terrifying stranger nearly dead from his wounds but still with the strength of a god. The god takes pity on Sansa and keeps her close for information...and they both decide that they might have a place in the Game of Thrones...
Chapter 1: Unfamiliar Stars and the Stench of Death
Loki sat quietly in his room in Asgard. In some ways, this was a miracle; in others, it was pure torture. Every part of his body ached, and there was nothing more comforting than the feel of his own featherbed with its clean sheets and thick furs. His room held all of his personal treasures: his books, wardrobe, and trinkets had been left intact. However, what was once Loki's personal haven was now a prison. This room would never be a sanctuary again, just as Loki's mind would never be free of insane taint.
For the past few months, Loki had been living a life of pure torture. For his part in letting the Frost Giants into Asgard and setting the Destroyer on that small Earth town, Loki had been severely punished. Odin and Thor had decreed that Loki be sent to the dungeons for his atonement, and upon his return, he would be forced to apologize before the Asgardian court in exchange for forgiveness. Loki had to smile weakly at the thought of apologizing: did his onetime family think that he was sorry for the death and despair he had caused? That in itself was more disgusting than all the tortures that he had been put through. For those past few months, Loki had been locked in a world of mental and physical agony. Be it blunt instruments, refined torture tools, or the sadistic whims of his guards, Loki's days were a torment. His nights brought no relief either. Spells were interwoven around his cell so he would experience a plethora of hallucinations and nightmares instead of rejuvenating sleep. One night, Loki thought he was on fire and he couldn't escape the burning flames. The licking tendrils of head scorched his skin and transformed him into a screaming creature that lived in endless pain. Another night, a swarm of vicious black beetles with metallic pincers feasted on the tender flesh of his stomach. Loki had been forced to watch in horror as glistening entrails were dragged from his body and devoured with methodic, painful precision. Those visions had been the worst; sometimes, when Loki was pacing his room in the palace of Asgard, spots of color on the walls turned into those beetles, or the sheets on his bed would encase him in a cocoon of flames. Even though he had left the torture chambers, Loki still couldn't escape his nightmare.
It would be even worse when he would be made to be paraded around the Asgardian throne room, begging his father's forgiveness and try to get in their good graces again. Oh yes, Loki would have to dress up in his finest silks and adopt an air of humble humiliation. It would be terrible to whimper at the base of the throne, mewling for his parent's forgiveness while the entire court laughed. Of course, his "parents" were not very cruel, as they would allow Loki to be welcomed back into the royal family...so long as he played the sympathetic part. Loki knew he could not do it. Why would he humiliate himself just to return to a life of shadows and second-class love? No, he wasn't the scheming prince who played pranks for his own amusement anymore; now, Loki was truly a devil who was born of ice and insanity.
That was why Loki was staying in his room. Odin made a very stupid decision when he locked his adopted son in the room filled with the most spell books in the kingdom. In return for Odin's stupidity, Loki was going to escape. For too long Loki had lingered in the shadows, given only spare bits of kindness now and again. It was time for Loki to destroy all who had wronged him and time to find a kingdom of his own to rule.
Loki suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. He had tried to eat a light supper before, but only had managed keep down a bowl of broth. His time in the dungeons had weakened him thoroughly, inside and out. Odin had decreed that only Loki's most dangerous injuries be healed, which meant that Loki was still covered in oozing, festering wounds. Yet, Loki was still going to escape from Asgard. He had maybe thought to stay and beg his parents for a private audience, but Thor's behavior outside the dungeons a few days ago had convinced him otherwise...
Loki was dragged out of the cells with none-too-gentle care; he groaned with every footfall and winced at the weakest candlelight. His stomach was a hollow balloon of air that only growled with cramps, not hunger, and his tongue was as rough as stone in his sandpaper mouth. His whole body was a mixture of lacerations, bruises, and shredded flesh that refused to heal. Before the party had made it halfway up the stairs, Loki collapsed, unable to walk anymore. He was then dragged by his bleeding arms while he struggled to remain conscious. When the party of Loki and his guards finally made it out of the dungeons, he could not keep his eyes open, as the brilliance of the Asgardian daylight nearly blinded him. He didn't even open his eyes when he heard the voices.
"Well, isn't it the mighty King of Asgard! King Loki, why don't you cast a spell on me for disobeying you?" Fandral's mocking words sent brays of laughter through the Warrior's Three and the gathered crowds. "Thor, you were right: your brother couldn't stand a little stay in the cells! I bet he cried when he couldn't wash his hair!" Thor hooted along with the rest of his friends. Loki didn't even care anymore when the taunts and venom stalked him all the way to his chambers.
Now, Loki's heart was too poisoned to beg for forgiveness, or to feel any regret for his actions. He settled back into a chair in the center of his room and began to weave his magic for his escape. Thank the gods that his father hadn't told the guards to search his room, as the most potent bits of magic in all of Asgard were in this room. Even though Loki was in general a very neat person, he had too many valuable trinkets to leave lying in plain sight, so most of his magical items were scattered in odd places around the room. Loki's spellweaving voice never faltered as he walked across the room and searched in one of his dresser drawers, until he found the Mind Gem hidden beneath a favourite pair of socks. The Mind Gem was one of six gems that belonged to the Infinity Gauntlet; Odin had two gems hidden in Asgard's treasure vault, and everyone assumed that the other four were scattered across the heavens, never to be reunited with their ornament. No one guessed that Loki had the most powerful gem hidden in his room with his smallclothes. The Mind Gem had the power to conjure powerful defense spells, transform the object it was bound to, and control minds. It had the power to enslave the senses, confuse them, destroy them. Oh, the possibilities were endless! Loki had spent a lot of time considering what sort of weapon to bind the Mind Gem to. He considered setting it on the pommel of a sword, but he never had a gift for slashy weaponry. Loki finally settled on a spear; his brief time as King of Asgard had given him a flair for spears, as he had enjoyed playing with his father's most prized spear, Gungir. Now, Loki finished binding the Mind Gem to a golden spear of his own make: it had a long, cruel blade for stabbing, a lightweight design, and a clever spot for the Mind Gem to rest, just under the curve on the blade. Loki didn't even consider naming the spear, as he wasn't very sentimental towards his weapons. Otherwise, Loki was unarmed except for a few daggers hidden in the layers of his clothing and two vials of poison. Finally, Loki donned one of his lesser favourite clothing sets; it was all black and brown metal and rough leather, with only a little of his favourite black-and-green cloth. Loki hadn't favourited it before because it was simply too savage for his tastes. Maybe it wasn't anymore. Loki grabbed his spear and, using the immense stores of his magic, teleported himself away to worlds unknown.
It wasn't a very good day to be in King's Landing. The city's commoners were starving, as the Tyrells had closed the roseroad during the war, so very little food was getting into the city. The nobles in the Red Keep were enjoying honeyed boar, spiced crab, and potted eel every night, or so it was said in the starving streets. Worse yet, the nobles had decided to prance through the streets to say goodbye to Princess Myrcella, who was being shipped off to gods-know-where. The commonfolk didn't really care; all they saw was a party of well-fed royalty flaunting their jewels and fat tummies while the rest of the city went hungry. One dying woman had the gall to rush up to the King and beg for help. The Queen Regent had made it worse by opening her ugly mouth to spew simpering words and give the woman a coin. The dying wench had started to scream "brotherfucker!", and all hell broke loose from there. One courageous idiot had thrown a cow pie at the king, which caused him to demand that the man be found and killed. Before anyone could blink, the commoners were storming the gold cloaks and Lannister men-at-arms to screech for bread and blood. The nobility scattered like rats before a malnourished cat. The gold cloaks slashed at anyone who got too close, while the milk-armored Kingsguard rushed the King and his mother back to the Red Keep with nobility scurrying behind them. A few unfortunate royals were caught between the crowds and the safety of the Red Keep. The hungry crowds tore the High Septon apart, while anointed knights that the commoners had cheered for only months ago in tourneys were smashed to shreds on the pavement. One young noble girl was almost swallowed up by the crowds, and she might have made it back to the Red Keep, until a few men had eyed her clean hair, fine silks, and impeccable beauty. The poor girl, a captive like rest of the commoners behind the city walls, could only flee into the nearest alley to avoid those men, who had a gleam of a different kind of hunger in their eyes.
Loki had hoped to land in a grassy field or a deserted village, as he did not particularly want to meet any people now. Sadly, Loki didn't have any luck in this world either, as he landed in a busy, rioting city. Most of the people around him were commoners: they wore stained leathers and roughspun, and they all had a weak, famished look about them. That didn't stop them from rioting, however. A few golden-cloaked peacekeepers were rushing the mobs, beating and murdering anyone who came too close. Loki spied a knight in blue-and-white plate being overwhelmed by the mob. The knight was forced to his knees and the people around him took turns smashing his skull on the pavement with rocks. Loki turned away; he didn't have a lot of pity for the man, as he had starved copiously during his imprisonment in Asgard. However, even if he had wanted to help, Loki was still very weak from all the magic he had used and he did not know if he could handle a mob. I don't think I'll stay to figure out if I can.
Leaving the riots, Loki decided to head down the nearest alley, in an attempt to find a little peace and quiet. Perhaps the little side street would lead to an inn, where he could requisition some and a little information about this place. Loki tried to make a few guesses about the place by looking around. The alley didn't offer much but an overpowering stench of shit and blood. After a few twists and turns, the alley emptied into some sort of...well, he didn't know what the purpose of these rooms was. Hay crunched under his feet, but woven baskets, barrels, and the like were stacked in untidy heaps in a corner. Storage rooms, perhaps? That wasn't what caught Loki's attention, however. He heard girlish screams of terror and laughter from a side room up ahead. Following the noise, Loki stalked forward carefully.
In front of him, a girl was about to be raped. Loki could see why the rapists had picked her: she was a beautiful young girl, with long, auburn hair, delicate blue eyes, and a face that could inspire a singer. From her very clean hair and intricately embroidered silks, the girl must be nobility. Loki felt a rage growing inside of him. The girl couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen! Feeling protective of the girl, Loki took careful stock of the situation. Four men had cornered the girl and had pinned her down-how was the girl supposed to fight back? The girl was screaming and fighting for all her worth, begging to be let go. That didn't matter to the four street urchins. One man snarled into her ear, causing the girl to shriek with terror while the others laughed. Of course, the men never got to have their fun with their prize, for Loki made his presence known.
Loki stood in the entrance to the storage room, still smoking slightly from his teleportation. He knew what the men were seeing: a gaunt, dark face with unkempt black hair and baggy eyes from lack of sleep and a sadistic grin. They must have noticed his mad eyes as well, along with his glowing sceptre and fine battle raiment. Loki eyed them coldly.
"Oy, what do you want?" The man who had hissed into the girl's ear had the nerve to speak to Loki in such a brusque manner. "We found her, and we'll have her; go find yourself some other highborn bitch!" The girl squirmed in their arms, still sobbing and pleading.
Loki had been waiting a long time to let off some steam, and these four disgusting pieces of trash were certainly deserving of death. Stepping forward, he unleashed a torrent of blue death from his spear that swept over the girl but knocked the four men off their feet. Loki danced closer and sliced the man who had spoke from head to heart, releasing a spray of guts and blood. Pivoting on one foot, Loki pinned another man into the wall with his spear. By now, the other two men had realized what danger they were in, and had abandoned the girl in an attempt to flee. One man took a spear to the joint of shoulder and neck, while the other was vaporized with a short burst of deathly blue magic.
After that slaughter, Loki felt much better. He straightened his clothes calmly and wiped his sceptre clean on one of the man's tunics. The girl huddled against a wall, covered in blood and too shocked to speak. . Loki remembered she was there and looked at her. "I'm sorry you had to see that, but are you all right?" The girl nodded, too terrified for words. "What's your name?"
The girl didn't have time to reply, for another voice was threading through the maze of alleys and streets. "Lady Sansa! Lady Sansa, are you there?"
Loki was curious to see what status this girl had in this world. Anyway, even though he was reluctant to leave the girl, Loki felt she might be better off with a violent, half-mad demigod. He disappeared a flash of blue and waited quietly in the corner, anxious to see how this played out.
A knight in blood-spattered white armor and cloak appeared from around the bend. He was large with a cruel face and even crueler eyes. He looked over the blood-spattered room and girl without much interest. He motioned to the girl called Sansa. "Get up," he snarled. "His Grace is wanting his betrothed back, and you've gone and scratched up the dress he gave you. He won't be happy about that."
The knight's words seemed to rouse Sansa from her terror. "No, I won't, I won't go back to Joffrey! He's evil and cruel and I hate him!" She looked around the room in frantic pleading for Loki. "Please good ser, come back, reveal yourself! Don't let Ser Meryn take me back to Joffrey!" The knight hauled her roughly to her feet, and before Loki could reappear, dealt her a stinging slap that wrenched her head back and split her lip.
Loki's anger was roused even further by the knight's cruelty, and he reappeared before their astonished eyes. "What do you mean by hitting my lady?" He asked coldly. "She doesn't want to go back to your king, and who are you to deny her wishes? She is now the lady of a god." The knight only paused for a moment before shoving the girl aside and charging at Loki. Loki shot a bolt of lightning out of his spear, and set Trant on fire. The left the man to die in that blood-stained room. Pulling an unresisting Sansa to her feet, he wrapped his cloak around her shoulders, and deciding that talk could be saved for another time, led her through the alleys, beneath a sky slowly filling with unfamiliar stars.
Okay, so I'm going to try and post a new chapter each week, but don't be alarmed if it takes two weeks; I'm a busy student and the grades matter most!
Some chapters will have multiple POVs, but there won't be too many.
The next chapter will have Tyrion's headaches during the Quest for Sansa, Tobho Mott being stripped of his home, and Thor finally realizing that Loki had fled the coop a week after the fact. Thanks for reviewing and reading, and don't be shy to leave a comment!
And now, a preview of the next chapter!
The young gold cloak wandered through a maze of alleys that veered off the main streets of King's Landing. The boy had only begun his training in the barracks and quarters of the City Watch, but had been called to protect the king and help put down the riots spreading throughout the city. The boy, whose name was Mollard, was fearfully looking at every shadow and startling at the scurrying of a mouse. Mollard was one of a hundred gold cloaks who had been sent to search for Ser Meryn Trant and Lady Sansa Stark. Unfortunately, Commander Bywater would have been better served sending a streetwise starvling with a promise of food in his belly for all the work that Mollard was accomplishing. Mollard had only joined the City Watch for food; his mother was a baker who had died during one of the food riots in the weeks past, and Mollard hadn't been able to get his hands on baking supplies to continue her business. So here he was, a timid child of four-and-ten who could hardly hold a spear, sent to search in the dead of night in an angry city for two missing nobility. Life couldn't get any worse for the poor boy. Or so he thought.
Turning a corner, Mollard smelled charred meat. His hungry self quickly forgot about his mission and went in search of a nice meal. However, Mollard found an entirely different type of meat.
Ser Meryn Trant's body, easily recognizable in his scaled armor of the Kingsguard, lay smoking in the middle of a puddle of blood. He was a burnt shell of a man; his white wool cloak was burnt to a crisp and his once-splendid armor was charred and melted from the heat. Three bodies surrounded him and even though they had been dead for a few hours, their wounds were deep enough that blood still trickled on the floor. Mollard walked over to Trant's body and bent to examine him, when suddenly the knight's hand shot up and gripped the boy's wrist.
Mollard shrieked and jumped back. Trant forced some whispy words through his burnt lips. Mollard had to bend over him and strain to hear. "A god..." Trant gasped, "a god in...golden-etched armor with a..a..g-g-golden spear...took Sansa...killed me...tell the king, tell the king!" Trant fell back and with a wheezing breath, died there in that alley.
Mollard fled back to the Red Keep, carrying a scrap of charred white cloth and the mark of death in his eyes.