A/N: As I type this, I'm already regretting letting this story out, but YOLO, right? Story takes place after Avengers and Thor Dark World, Coulson is alive just because, and story is heavily movie-based. It's very fast-paced because author was too excited to make things happen and was too impatient to sit down and plan out a proper storyline. Hope you enjoy it anyway.
There are plot holes and other story problems and very cheesy lines. Feel free to treat this story as a writing prompt of sorts and use it to produce your own version of it. Link me to your story if ever you do.
PRESENT TIME
"Begin."
The one who had spoken was Elder Amira, one of the members of the high council of the Tribe. She held staff high in the air, a signal the training to start. The two participants, fully-clad in armour, circled each other cautiously, each hesitating to strike first. Their friends watched helplessly from the edges of the clearing, all regretting every step that led them to this moment.
The first participant was a god, with long black hair, and pale green eyes. His arms were raised in a cautious defensive position as he surveyed his unwilling opponent. To mortals, he was the God of Mischief. To Asgard, he was former Prince Loki.
The air was tense. It seemed as though a single breath could inflict chaos. None of them have ever experienced anything like this. The blood-lust of battle was familiar to all of them but this—this was different.
This was not long-time enemies at war, where killing was swift, and uncomplicated. The enemy must die, father always said. And during battle, he was right. This was the mantra Loki chanted when he fought wars alongside his father and his brother; back when he younger, back before Jotumheim.
But his opponent wasn't an enemy; she wasn't a blood-thirsty tribe member that would slit his throat at the first opening. She, was Jane. His Jane.
"Can you honestly say you are able to attack Loki without holding back?"
"And what of you, God of Mischief, even if you master the technique, will you be able to use it against your friends?"
The group stayed silent. They knew what the technique entailed, and though there was a cure at hand, the damage that had to be done was unimaginable.
"Couldn't we find someone to use for Loki to train against? None of us have the strength to attack him no holds barred." Said Sif.
"It's too late for that. This skill needs to be mastered now, and the nearest area with people is a fortnight's worth of traveling." Said the elder, "And so we have reached an impasse. If we cannot find someone willing to combat Loki with all their strength, he will not be able to master the technique. And you are desperate for a win. This technique will help you win. But as a group, you must make that sacrifice."
Her command was resolute. One of them would have to serve as his opponent, which meant they would volunteer to attack Loki fiercely enough to kill, and if Loki was successful, they would also be volunteering themselves to be torn apart.
Jane stood completely still for a moment, eyes closed as she raised her head to face the stars. Sif thought she was going to have another attack.
"Loki!" she cried out, "Jane's having an attack!"
The God of Mischief rushed forward; ready to catch her, his body tensing as he closed the distance between them. His were arms held in front of him, unsure whether or not to take her in his arms.
"Jane, " he murmured softly.
"No, Loki," she said, her eyes slowly opening. As her eyes opened they emitted a sharp gold glint that indicated the start of her transformation.
"It's okay, I'm ready." Said Jane, her arms spread wide; back arching, as the lines of her veins began to trace gold threads on her skin. "Don't hold back."
His fingers rested lightly on her cheek and he backed away, assuming position.
"You know what this technique entails. You mustn't hold back," said Elder Amira.
"I understand," Loki replied. With a breath, he grabbed his knives from their harnesses and shot it at Jane. The knives flew through the air like lightning with deadly precision.
Jane threw her arms in front of her and spun to avoid the attack, but she wasn't fast enough. The first blade nicked her ear, and the second, sank deep into her forearm.
She suppressed a scream, as pain raced though her body and her vision blurred. Loki's knives were always dipped in poison. Jane forced herself to ignore the pain and quickly delivered a counterattack before Loki could react.
Fire shot from her palms, headed straight for Loki's heart. The God of Mischief jumped high, reaching up for the branches of the trees that arched above the clearing. Jane saw an opening and lashed fire on the branches, which broke of with a crack. It fell to ground, but the god was nowhere to be seen.
Jane spun around, trying to locate Loki. There! She spotted him a few yards away from the fallen branches. She readied a charge of flames for another attack. Just then, several other Loki's started to appear in the clearing. Another one of his tricks. She rolled a ball of power between her hands and released it. A wave of fire spread in all directions. The blast was too quick for Loki to evade, and all Loki's disappeared with the wave; the original momentarily crumpling to the floor. His entire left side was hit by the flames.
Jane grabbed a spear from the pile of weapons nearby and stabbed Loki in the thigh, drawing a jagged line from his thigh, and down his leg. The cut was deep. She retreated before he could reach her. Her vision was starting to blur again and tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she realized the damage she caused the god. Just as she decided to run forward to help him up, the form on the floor vanished and she was pierced in the ribs from behind with a scythe.
"Finish her!" commanded the Elders, who up until then were silently watching from their seats above the arena.
Loki circled his arms around her, and prepared to deliver his final blow, concern marring his features. He wasn't ready for this. Jane looked up at him and a faint smile appeared on her lips just as a flash filled the air, and she disappeared from sight.
At the same instant, she dropped down from above, her feet landing hard on Loki's shoulders. The god struggled to remain balanced as he tried to absorb the impact. He flipped and managed to pin her down with his left side, as his right arm fumbled with another blade on his belt. Just as he was going to perform the technique, he noticed her veins were burning black and red spidery patterns where gold was supposed to be. The poison was too strong for her system to handle. Jane's breaths came in shallow gasps as she tried to twist out from under him.
He loosened his grip and sat up, gently pulling her up with him.
"Loki, what are you doing? Stop. You can't hold back," she said, as her body started to tremble-danger signs of a seizure from the poison.
"We're going to have to do this another time." He told her as he cradled her in his arms.
"What are you doing?! CONTINUE!" Elder Amira was furious.
"My knives have poison. If we don't help her now, I will lose her!" He screamed at her, picking Jane up and rushing back to their tent.
Jane blacked out.
18 MONTHS AGO
Jane was desperate. It's been 4 years since she last saw Thor. It takes her a matter of hours and a few barters, to obtain a S.H.I.E.L.D. platinum level swipe card, get into the authorized access room to hack the surveillance system. She sneaks into The Gallery, where the collection of unclassified S.H.I.E.L.D. items are hidden, to "borrow" the Tessaract. It's been too long. She needs to see him.
There's a sound to her left and Coulson appears nearby. He suspiciously asks Jane what she's up to. Jane starts pleading, saying she needs to see Thor. It's been 4 years and he still hasn't shown up. He promised, he promised that he would come back for her again.
Coulson tries to reason with her, saying that she knows very well that the Tessaract is dangerous and only the gods (he says sarcastically) know how to wield its power. She pleads and begs him to understand, he was her chance at something wonderful. Her only chance. Please, Coulson.
Without warning, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents suddenly drop-roll into the room and there's an explosion, followed by a rain of bullets. Jane panics and accidentally lets go of Tessaract, which activates upon hitting the floor. Jane screams and a small portal forms at her feet. After a sharp gust of air and a whirl of buzzing energy, she is gone.
Jane appears in a dark planet that serves as a refuge for those who wanted to escape the war. No Man-Nomads's land of sorts. The residents call it "Black Hole." She manages to hide from the more dangerous inhabitants for a year, surviving on the kindness of a family from Gallifrey and training with a few war criminals for Silangan, who refused to acknowledge her until she tried to beat them down with sticks. She obviously lost. Taking amusement in her determination, they allow her to train with them. All is well and Jane looks as though she will be able to be strong enough to strong arm her way back to Earth until Dark Elf war criminals find her.
The Dark Elves capture her and take her to a crude, underground laboratory where they've been experimenting with the Aether and a newly developed substance closely resembling the Tessaract. Her captors inform the leader that they caught a human for experimentation, not knowing that she had been involved in the previous skirmishes between the Dark Elves and the people of Aasgard. She's abruptly knocked out and strapped onto a gurney. They inject the solution into her nape, filling her spine with the part-Aether, part-pseudo Tessarcact.
Pain. All she remembers is pain. Everything she knew about who she was, what her life was like, how she ended up there, was stripped off with a single medical procedure. White hot fire bled into her veins, like a thousand blades scraping the skin off her body. She's too tired to scream, she's done that already. Her throat raw and scratched up from the hours of screaming. She's not sure how much longer she can stomach the unbearable pain. She wants to succumb to it, to stop fighting but she's told, in broken English, if it consumes her, she dies. She can't die like this. There's something she needed to do. She can't die.
A few weeks pass and the pain recedes into a strange numbness, and a solid throbbing in her ears to that marches to the same beat as the heart in her chest. She could barely hear the Elves talking around her. She's strong enough to open her eyes for just a moment. She's dazed. Harsh light blue glare creates spots in her vision, and she lifts her arm just to see if she can.
Her body gives a feeble twitch, and she lets out a strangled gasp. Blood rises in her throat and she coughs it out violently, the movent causes an elf in-charge lifts her arms to check her pulse. There's blood everywhere. Smell of rust. Everything is bloody, and she's lying naked, strapped on the metal table. Her pores are oozing blood instead of sweat due to the strain of containing the Aether-Tessaract, the M, they called it.
There's a commotion outside, explosions, laser sizzles and people screaming. An invasion. Dark Elf is thrown against the wall by someone she couldn't see.
"Where is it," a deep voice hisses angrily—more a command than a question.
The Dark Elf refuses to answer and is slashed in half.
"WHERE IS IT?" the owner of the voice thunders at the next elf that stood guard at the doorway. The dark Elf points at Jane, "It's in the female," he sneers and explodes with a blast of power.
"Well, Miss Foster, Fancy seeing you here," a blurred shape of a man approaches the side of the table. He's speaking softly to her, she can hear it. She knows that voice but she can't register anything more because her body starts to seize and she's blinded by more pain. Cold hands gently hold her neck and head as she rides out the violent twitches. A cloak covers her body, and she is carried off.
Jane stirs and opens her eyes. There's no pain. She's clean and bloodless, lying in simple cotton spun dress on a cot in a tent. She has no idea who she is or who the man, sleeping on a nest of bedding in the middle of the tent, is. She tries to leave on weak legs.
"I wouldn't leave if I were you, Miss Foster," a voice advises, the same voice that spoke to her in Black Hole.
The black-haired man smiles at her, his green eyes mischievously challenging her.
"Well you aren't," she retorts softly despite her efforts to muster up a snarl. Why does he know her name? She asks, trying to buy time for her to run. She's clearly too weak to fight, and one look at his face lets her know that he knows that as well.
"You're not strong enough to leave," he informs her. She ignores his warning.
"Who bathed me," she asks sharply, suddenly very aware that she was alone with a man that could very easily overpower her into doing what he willed.
"I did," he says simply.
She reclines in a metal tub, full or warm water, half unconscious with exhaustion. She watched listlessly as pale hands wrung a washcloth and scrubbed the blood off her arms, legs, face and neck. The cloth was washed again and the cold hands slid over her breasts with a gentleness she was no longer familiar with; the months of harsh treatment from both her trainers and her captors made her a different woman from the woman that left Earth.
The gentle scrubbing continued down her torso. His hand paused and stopped contact with her body for a moment to hang the washcloth at the edge of the tub, before making its way between her legs.
She tried to protest, but only succeeded in making a small noise at the back of her throat. Her fear was ignored, and cold fingers slowly rubbed the caked-up blood away from the skin of her inner thighs. She started to tense when his hands reached her labia, in fear of devilish intentions. She had had enough of the torture she has been through. Rape was not one more thing she had to strength to deal with.
The man washing her withdrew his hands and said softly, "It's alright, I have to intention of hurting you," before placing his hand between her legs once again to continue washing in a business-like manner, a small comfort despite the events as of late.
Suddenly, he was beside her, arms carefully raised on either side of her body. With a swipe at her ankles, she topples into his arms. His scent was familiar, and his arms were warm.
"I told you," he says with a smirk, "you're not strong enough."
It takes a few days for her to get a part of her memory back, and to adjust to the stride of things. There was training in the morning, then chores, then hunting in the afternoon, and by nightfall, a small joyous dinner by the bonfire before rounds are made, and everything is packed up and they retreat to their respective tents.
It's those moments in the tent that Jane dreads. She can spend the entire day without running into Loki, who, once her memory came back, she regarded with disdain. He, on the other hand, notices the change in behaviour but decides to respond with humour; complete with mocking and sarcastic jibes every time she flinches in anticipation to a violence that never comes.
"Why won't you just let me leave?" Jane asks. It's the first time she's spoken to him directly since she woke up, three weeks ago. "I am strong enough, and I know enough to get back home."
If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "Miss Foster, I know you know how to find our tent. It is, after all, the biggest one." Amusement is in his eyes.
"This isn't my home. I meant Earth." She grinds out. Her temper has gotten a lot worse since she left Earth. And even more difficult to manage because of the experimental procedure the elves performed on her.
"Oh, the sad, desolate planet that didn't deserve my ruling?" He questions lightly, not at all in the mood to take her seriously.
"May I remind you that it was because of your ruling started the ruin of my planet?" her words were sharp and gold lights started to thread on her skin.
Loki eyed her warily. He'd seen the destruction her newfound condition has made her capable of in the week that she spent unconscious in his possession.
"Look at your arms"
Jane looked at him incredulously before raising her arms and examining them. She could see gold light running through the veins beneath her skin, which faded along with her anger.
"What is this?" she whispers, frightened.
"It's the result of the dark elves' experiments on you. They injected a lethal dose of a combination of the Aether and an experimental Tessaract. Due to your…perseverance, the solution adapted to your body. And I suppose now you have gained some sort of source of magical power." He was near her now, just a mere foot away. He made a move to touch her arm. She panicked.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she shrieks. A sudden rise in temperature in her skin, and a gold blast of power, and the god of mischief is on the floor, a bloody gaping hole where his stomach should be. Jane drops to her knees beside Loki, trembling hands trying to stem the flow of blood.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. What have I done, what have I done?" she panics and presses her hands on the fist-sized wound. "Loki? LOKI!" She calls out to him. His head lolls to the side and he coughs.
"You really need to control that temper of yours." He says waving her away as he places his hand on his stomach, using his magic to heal. The wound melted away like dirt being washed.
Fear burns in her chest. Did she just kill her chances of ever escaping this planet alive?
"No need to panic, Miss Foster. All is well."
Jane runs out of the tent, a strange gold blur that darts into the woods. Branches scrape her arms, and after what seemed like an hour of running through the trees, exhaustion causes her leg to cramp. Her foot catches on a root and she stumbles into a shrub. She lies there, drained, angry, and not to mention, lost.
"Jane, what have you done to yourself?" she thinks aloud. Her hands come to her face, and she can smell the dried blood on her palms, Loki's blood from today's little outburst.
"Great, Jane, just great. You're stuck in the woods, all alone, and lost. And you're talking to yourself like a loon." She lets out a frustrated groan.
"I assure you I am much better company. Even though I do say so myself." Replies a voice at her side that makes her almost jump out of her skin. Loki. He followed her all the way here? How long had he been standing there?
"Go away, Loki."
"You've spoken more than three sentences to me today. Don't think I'd abandon you after completing such a feat."
"What do you want from me?" she asks, refusing to move from her awkward nest in the shrubbery.
"I don't want anything from you. I want you."
"Pervert," she retorts with wave of her hand in his general direction.
He chuckles. "No, sadly, nothing of the sort. Well," he pauses thoughtfully, coming to sit by her head. She peers up at him, upside-down, and gets a view of his jaw and neck. "The power you now possess is, unfortunately, beyond your control. With the kind war we are in and the current state my armies, I am in need of a power such as yours. Therefore I am in need of you."
"One little outburst from me and you say I can't control myself? I just need to train for a bit and I'll be fine." She snaps at him, and sits up to huff angrily at his proposal. "Besides," she continues. "What makes you think I'd ever want to work for you? You're a coward, and a traitor to Aasgard."
His eyes narrow in annoyance. "Your 'little outburst,' as you so charmingly put it, was not the only loss of control you've exhibited. In the two weeks that you were unconscious in our possession, you have had night terrors which resulted in many outbursts," he grinds the word out, the mood suddenly tense. "that have caused the tribe several losses. I am the only one that could control the waves of power you released, and I am not the only one you've wounded."
His eyes are hard and intense. Jane looks away.
"How many others have been wounded because of me?" she asks softly. She regrets asking as soon as the words are out.
"Several men." His reply is short, and his tone clipped.
"How many?" she presses on.
"You need not know the details, Miss—"
"HOW MANY—"she argues.
He cuts her off, "You have killed one hundred and seventy-four people." She starts to tremble.
"I can't have. Murder? I—I never meant—I didn't know—" tears are streaming down her face and her hands grasp fistfuls of the shrub, the nettles digging into her skin. They start to bleed in a matter of seconds.
"One hundred and seventy-four men. Fourty were sons of great warriors, fifty-three were fathers called into war by law, nine were medics that aided the greats into full recovery, and those were the same nine that sealed your wounds, and treated the illness you picked up in the lab, twenty were—"
"ENOUGH, ENOUGH—"she screeches, her hands, slick with fresh blood covers her ears.
Loki grabs her wrists and forces them away from the sides of her head.
"Do you still want to know the details, Miss Foster? Do you want to know how many fathers, sons, and medics you killed? How many brothers, daughters, and mothers have suffered because of you?" he hisses, his eyes narrow to glare at her. "They were my people, Miss Foster."
She bows her head. She's a murderer, an outcast, with no home, no purpose, and no family. She can't remember why she had left Earth in the first place, or how she ended up here. She's just so tired. There's nowhere else to go. She gives up. Jane moves her head to rest on his chest as her body shakes with silent sobs.
Loki releases her wrists, and her hands move to cling to the front of his shirt. He stays still and lets her cry, leaving her to her thoughts for a moment. His arms slowly wrap around her and with a short flick of his finger and a whirl of leaves, they're back in the tent. He scoops her up and unceremoniously dumps her in the metal tub, which is quickly filling up with warm water.
Jane tries to scramble out of the tub, but her clothes are wet and heavy, and his pale hand is on her chest, gently, but firmly, forcing her to stay down.
His magic freezes her into place as he unbuckles and discards his outer armour, leaving him in a pair of breeches and a tunic. He rolls up his sleeves, and whisks a washcloth out of thin air. He hangs the cloth at the edge of the tub and makes a move to pull her garments off. Jane snaps out of the spell and tries to fight him off, gold threads reappearing on her skin. But she's too weak and he seems to have a good hold on her power, and she's forced to settle with a frightened sniff.
"You are now mine, for all intents and purposes. You are not a soldier nor a slave. Nor are you someone to warm my bed. You, are simply, mine." He says casually, as though he were talking about the weather. He successfully pulls the dress off, exposing her naked body. Her arms immediately cover her breasts and her legs clamp together, her knees draw to her chest. The gold glow in her veins brightens as her stress ramps up. She takes a breath to argue.
"If you think that I am going to willingly—"
"—but you will, Jane. There's nowhere to go, you have no one else. Might as well use your power for my cause. You can't run. I am a god, and you, a mere mortal with a few interesting adjustments," He interrupts her, his tone impartial but his eyes challenge her to try to overpower him.
He places his fingers on her neck and slides them under her chin, turning her head to face his. "And as long as you are mine," he continues gently, "No harm will come to you. You will be under my protection, and my rule, you will have control over my armies and other affairs, you will have control over your power, and access to so much more."
Jane is silent, her eyes searching his in a moment of uncertainty. Control over his armies and affairs? How much is he willing to exchange for her powers? Why would he entrust so much to someone as unwilling and reluctant as she?
"All I need you to do is cooperate."
"Why?" her voice cracks as she speaks.
"Because your power will be my chance to win this war. I am on the right side this time, Miss Foster." His eyes are earnest, and for the first time, she feels like she could trust him. "You have nothing else to lose and so much more to gain."
Jane doesn't speak for the rest of the evening. She reviews her options and allows him to continue washing her. There's no malice in his touch, only a gentleness she found strange yet slightly comforting. He is the only thing she has closest to a companion.
Loki scoops her up in a towel and they sit on the bed. He sets her between his legs and he dries her up. She's quiet and cooperative, for the time being. They don't speak for the rest of the evening, and he doesn't touch her after she's dressed. He leaves her on her side of the bedding, and they both drift off to sleep.
A week passes by and neither party acknowledges each other beyond the confines of the tent. The only interaction they share is when one of them is silently offered a meal by the other, and the baths, which had become a part of their routine. She had gotten used to his touch, unknowingly entrusting her body to him in an unconscious act of submission. He acts like nothing happened, but she's almost positive he's actually letting her take her time to think about his offer.
The first time she speaks is after the ninth day, after the nightly routines of the tribe had finished, and everyone retreated into their tents. Loki was in simple breeches and a tunic, casually leaning into the headboard of the bed as he tinkered with the parts of the staff he used on the battlefield. It was odd seeing him so relaxed around her. She was used to the evil Loki, the Loki that tried to conquer her home, the Loki that killed so many of her people, the traitor, the bastard, the demon.
The entire week of silence, she watched him and saw how he was around the tribe. He was more human, more familiar, more relatable. She saw how Loki was capable of laughter, of friendship. She could see how his comrades and soldiers interacted with him. They treated him with reverence and respect, and sometimes, the occasional taunting. She saw who he was without the hate. And it made her think that maybe she was wrong about him the whole time. He really was just a man trying to get over the pain of his past in the best way he can.
He doesn't look up as she approaches the bed.
"And if I refuse to cooperate, what then?" she asks, her voice raspy from the lack of use.
Loki's head snaps up to look at her and he stares at her quizzically before he speaks.
"I can return you home. To Earth. However, your powers will remain beyond your control, and you will hurt people. Time passes differently in these realms. The possibility of your friends and family and S.H.I.E.L.D of being long gone by the time you get back is high. You will be home. You will be safe, but I can't guarantee that things will be the same or that you will be happy." His tone is gentle as he explains. And she can feel the trust starting to form despite her attempts to keep her disdain for the god.
She sighs.
"If I agree to your terms, I need to know what's happening." Her words are careful and measured, her tone even.
"Of course," he says with a short half-mock bow of his head.
Jane sighs again and tugs at her hair.
"Fine. Fine. FINE." She agrees, repeating the word as to convince herself more than him. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
"What do I have to do?" she asks.
She's answered with a thick, heavy, leather-bound book that's dropped into her hands without the god ever moving off the bed.
"You'll have to read that first." He vanishes, the staff falls to the bed, and Jane is left alone.
It takes Jane the next two days to devour the information. As Jane reads, she discovers the book is entirely composed of handwritten notes detailing the current situation and status of the war—how it started, who is involved, what each nation involved has done (including Loki's armies), and a vague, almost illegible outline of Loki's future plans.
In the same spiderweb scrawl, all information on her current condition is listed, including, she notes grimly, the specifics of the people that were collateral damage of her night terrors, and possible methods by which her power can be managed.
It takes a couple of hours for Jane to track down Loki and pull him away from a discussion with one of the tribe members. She clamps down on his wrist and all but drags him into the tent with nothing but a "We need to talk."
"…based on what I've read, my night terrors were the main cause—"
"—are" Loki corrects.
"what?"
"You said your night terrors were. Your night terrors are."
"Are? I'm still having night terrors?"
"Every night."
He places his hand on the crown of her head, and presses his thumb against her forehead. A flash and she's looking at herself and Loki, from the foot of the bed. She's screaming and writhing and gold fire bursts out of her skin in waves and sparks that seem to be contained in an invisible bubble that surround her and the god. Loki's holding her in his arms, his mouth set in a grim line as the fires lick at his skin and sear the flesh off his bones. Another flash and she's back in the present moment.
She gazes up at Loki in awe and her fingers come up to touch his cheek where the gold flames had burnt flesh. It was nothing more than his usual pale skin now, but the thought of him enduring this every night for the past two months that she had been in his care… It's a wonder that he had allowed such decency in his behavior toward her at all.
"Oh." Was her lame response. What do you say to someone who had been selflessly taking care of her despite her difficult behaviour? She wasn't sure a thank you was going to cut it.
"Yes, oh?" he inquires playfully.
She snaps out of her thoughts and says, "So what's the plan? What is the thing you need to do to help me? You wrote in the book but crossed the crap out of it in black ink I can't read anything."
"Well, that was the idea," he says dryly.
"What is it?" she was losing patience. She had to keep herself in check by reminding herself that she hasn't exactly been pleasant to live with and that the god has been nothing but nice, albeit being a bit of an ass sometimes. But he is the god of fucking mischief so what can you do?
It was his turn to shrug his shoulders and sigh, as though to say you're not going to like it.
"Weeeellll?" she drags out the word in a half-whine and a can-we-please-get-on-with-it expression on her face.
"A marriage ritual."
"A what?" she asks in disbelief.
"A—what—marriage?" she sputters.
"So elegant. So eloquent. Such a lovely bride-to-be" he says sarcastically, booping her on the nose for full effect of mockery.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN A MARRIAGE RITUAL?" she screeches, which prompts Loki to launch into a full lecture.
"When couples marry, they perform a marriage ritual to keep them intact and in tune with each other. It is often unnecessary and done out of pleasure or novelty's sake but there are some perks of marriage rituals when performed by a magic couple. Aside from being in tune with each other's emotions, their powers are joined. Therefore, creating a more powerful force for the two of them and a steady, equal flow of magic, which is more manageable than the common unbalanced state of most. The saying 'you are my other half' is more than just pillow talk."
Jane gapes at him in the most un-ladylike manner, which causes the god to chuckle at her misfortune.
"Why do you think Odin won all those wars? It's because my adoptive mother gave in and allowed him to perform a marriage ritual with her. She's the one with all the power, contrary to popular opinion."
"So," she processes her train of thought out loud. "In order for me to gain control over my powers, and you to ramp up yours, we have to perform a marriage ritual?"
"Yes."
"And that means, we're married?"
"Yes."
"Forever?"
"Yes."
"No divorce or separation?"
"No."
"Do you do this because it's the only way or do you just like tormenting me?"
Loki grins. "Yes, and yes."
"Asshole."
His grin widens.
"So what happens in the marriage ritual? Is there a candle or a flower or a magic potion?"
"You may have those elements if you wish but it's mostly just a complicated spiritual vow—"
"—oh, okay—"she interrupts with a premature sigh of relief.
"—and sex" he finishes.
She turns red and tries to spit out a retort but after a few seconds of indignant sputtering, Jane turns heel and darts out of the tent.
Several days later and they have discussed the ritual several times. Jane already knows every detail by heart but refuses to perform the ritual until she is ready. It's a big life decision, she argues when the god insists that she's going to be stuck with him forever anyway, what's the big deal? Jane sticks to her guns with a firm "no" but the god of mischief isn't sensitive to mortal issues, and proceeds to sulk for the rest of the day.
Later that week, Loki and several hundred tribe members leave to aid a nearby ally battling in a wild riot against some kingdom from another galaxy attempting to conquer the Tribe Alliances in the name of the enemy. They're gone for a week. With no news on the current events, Jane and the rest of the tribe start to fret. The alliances could've lost the battle, and been taken prisoner or worse, executed. Their tribe could be next on the enemy hit list.
Loki comes home one night, dark circles under his eyes, sallow, and bloody from the dreadful battle. They won, but only by hair. Jane rushes to his side, checking for major wounds as she unbuckles his armour with the best businesslike air she could muster. She's been worried, but she doesn't want to show it.
As soon as the chest plate drops to his feet, his hands find her wrists and he pulls her close.
"Loki?" Jane's tone is tentative.
His eyes snap to look at her, and she backs away slightly. She's never seen him like this; with a dark look in his eyes that burned with desperation and intent.
"I can't win this without you. I can't." his voice is rough, and he grabs her by the waist. He forces her down on the mattress; she's fighting him with all her might. Her power flares and strikes him, in an attempt to defend herself. But he is a god, and his magic can overpower hers, despite the angry gold flames that are blasting at him at full power. She's begging for him to stop but he doesn't listen, a wave of the hand vanishes their clothes as she's trying to get away.
He grabs her chin and makes her face him.
"We need to do this now."
Her eyes are wide with fear and she tries to push him away, a panic starts in her chest and she can feel his erection nudging against her inner thigh.
"Loki. I'm not ready for this!" she pushes his shoulders, trying to get more space between them.
"We have to do this. There's no way I can win this war without this. You should've seen it, Foster. The war-" he takes her wrists and pins them above her head.
He doesn't look at her now, his eyes darting over her naked form.
"Please, Loki. Listen to yourself! Don't do this!" Jane's voice rises to a shout, her hands flexing and trying to pull herself away.
"—the deaths," he leans close to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek in an attempt to soothe her. Jane struggles.
She's shouting obscenities at him and screaming for help, but the silencing spell he cast on their tent was strong. Her pleas and attempts at reason falls on deaf ears as Loki's attention zeroes in on her hips, as she twists away from his.
"—the destruction," he says. Jane could feel the tip of his penis move slowly toward the point between her legs. He was getting ready to ease into her. A cold dread spreads through Jane's body as she realizes he has no intent of letting her go.
"Loki." She says, her tone surprisingly even and calm. He looks at her in the eyes, as his erection is poised just short of penetration. Jane searches his eyes. They have grown unfamiliar, a strange dark hue clouding the emerald green. "Please don't force me to do this."
As though her words had undone something deep inside his mind, Loki's expression changes from desperation to surprise. He drags the length of his penis up the seam between her legs with an angry hiss, before he lifts himself off her and releases her wrists. Jane quickly retreats to the far side of their bed, grabbing the sheets with her to wrap around her body.
Loki turns away from her and gets dressed by hand. Before leaving the tent he magicks her clothes on the bed and says,
"I…I apologize for my behavior. This will not happen again."
Days pass and Loki stays clear of the tent as though he's trying to indirectly apologize for the gross violation of her personal space. He's called to scrimmage after scrimmage, and it's a month before Jane sees him again.
He enters the tent one night, bruised and bloodied from war. Loki sets his armor down in a corner, grabs a towel and exits the tent; all without a single glance at Jane, who watched him from the corner of their bed.
Loki comes back, clean from a wash at the river. He looks over at the bed, to Jane, and gives her a small smile.
"Hello," he says.
"Hi," she responds with caution; the events from last month are still fresh in her mind.
"May I stay with you tonight?"
"Yes," she says with a small smile of her own, which fades into a frown the moment she noticed that his eyes have gone dark.
"Are…are you okay?" she asks carefully as he settles on one side of the bed.
"No. But I can handle it. Please, trust me." His eyes are dark, and Jane is thrown a quick look of desperation before it's replaced with a passive expression.
Jane stiffens, the beginnings of fear starting to stir in her gut. The last time he looked at her like that, he had almost raped her.
"I will not hurt you. I promised it wouldn't happen again." Loki offers her his hand. She takes it gingerly and lets him hold her hand for the rest of the night. And as promised, she's not harmed.
His eyes are still dark. Jane starts to worry that Loki hasn't been himself since the incident. True, he had kept his word and never tried to bed her again. He seemed to be waiting until she was well and ready.
The conversations seemed normal enough, and the tribe hasn't noticed anything different. Loki attends to his responsibilities with the tribe council during the day, and at night, when he comes home to her, he is polite and respectful of her space.
But his eyes. His are still dark. Jane can almost feel how thinly stretched his restraint is. She knows what she had agreed to, and she can see the damage that happens for each hour that the ritual is not performed.
The day of the summer solstice, she makes up her mind. That night, Loki comes into the tent after a long day. Jane surprises him by helping him remove his armor. Loki's eyes snap to look at her; it was the first time she had voluntarily touched him since the night he had forced himself on her.
His breathing grew heavy, and his hands clench to fists at his sides as he summons all the strength he has left to keep his promise to her.
A mantra starts in his head as Jane's small hands work at the clasps of his chest guard. IwillnotharmherIwillnotharmherIwillnotharmherIwillnot—
"Loki?" Jane inquires softly, interrupting the chanting in his head.
"What is it?" his voice comes out rougher than he expected, making her peer curiously, and cautiously, he notes grimly, at him.
Instead, she reacts by gently placing her hand on his neck, and slowly pulls him close, and gently touches her lips to his.
That's all his nerves could take. He immediately grabs her hips, pressing it to his as his lips slant against hers in a passionate kiss. In moment, he's pinned her to the bed, and her clothes are vanished. Before he could do anything else and pulls away from her, apologies ready to fall from his tongue.
Her hands are fast on his waist, and he freezes.
"It's okay, it's okay," she says gently. "I'm ready. I trust you and I'm ready."
Needing no further encouragement, Loki's mouth twists into a mischevious smile and he kisses her. He kisses her. He touches her, his hands gently exploring the curves of her body. Jane could feel his erection grinding against her hips. She fiddles with the buckle of his belt in a silent urge for him to take her. With a growl he vanishes his clothes and he collapses on top of her, naked. They gasp and moan with the shock of skin on skin as he grinds on her and kisses her with a fierceness she never experienced.
She grits her teeth and he enters her in one slow push. Tears fall from her face, and he doesn't move, allowing her to absorb what happened and for the pain to settle. He presses a kiss on her cheek.
"Jane," he whispers, his voice soft with guilt. She peers up at him through watery eyes. He's never called her by her first name before.
"Tell me what's next." he says and presses another kiss on her cheek.
"What happens after first contact? You know this, Jane. We've run this through a hundred times." He's trying to distract her from the pain.
With a sniff, she details the next few steps of the marriage ritual's first night.
He kisses her on the lips, and pulls her close to his body. He's deeply sorry for the plan that made her bed him, and he's not sure how to make it up to her. He pushes deeper into her, as tenderly as he could, and soon she's gasping softly as the pleasure takes over with every thrust.
After their orgasmic completion, the first bond is formed. She can feel everything. From the slickness from where they are joined, to the rhythmic thumping of his heart, to the tightness in his skin. These were the signs of the first bond. The moment he separates from her, she's hit with a strong pulse of guilt and desperation and shame. Jane's confused, these aren't her feelings. And then she realizes, it's his emotions she's feeling rumbling in her chest.
He moves to stand, deeply ashamed and disgusted at himself, as though wanting to put as much space between them as quickly as possible. But her hand reaches out to him and she calls him softly, and he's back by her side, holding her, kissing her, and whispering, "I'm sorry" over and over again.
"Do you hate me?" he asks quietly. He had just nearly committed one of the most hateful crimes against a woman. Never did he think he would ever stoop so low.
His eyes search hers and he could feel nothing but confusion and uncertainty from her. No feelings of hate or betrayal, just a small twinge of exhaustion, and a little…embarrassment?
"I don't hate you, Loki. I'm just feeling a bit lost. But I know where all this is coming from and I can only delay so long. You have been nothing but kind to me. The least I can do it suck it up and be a team player." Her smile is slightly strained, and he could feel her hesitation but she stays in his arms and lets him hold her until the sun comes up.
PRESENT TIME
Jane sat, partially submerged in the water, just a few metres away from the dock. Her cuts stung from the previous week's activity. After Loki threw the biggest fit anyone's ever seen as Jane's life hung in the balance, the group decided to put further training on hold for just bit. Just until the Norse god calmed down. It's been a week and Loki's still fuming about what happened.
"What are you doing out here by yourself?" Ah, speak of the devil.
"I was trained by war criminals from the Silangan Tribe, so being alone shouldn't be a problem, least of all people, to you." Jane continued to wash off, not really caring whether or not the god was going to throw a fit for "putting herself in danger."
A frustrated sigh and a few splashes, he takes a seat in front of her. A strange feeling of insecurity settles upon Jane as she realizes they're both naked in the water. Nevermind that they've perfomed marriage and mating rituals to bind their powers. All of it—the sex—was a mission, more than anything else.
"There's something we need to do," he says softly, moving her hair to cover her breasts. He could feel her vulnerability. Most old bonds discontinue the exchange of emotion but theirs was barely a month old, and he could feel every little flicker. The cover provided some comfort to Jane. The god noticed less tension in her posture.
"What is it?" she asks, still slightly awed that he adjusted to her so well. She could barely keep up with the emotions that thundered through the god at such a rapid pace.
His mood changed as normally as humans would. But at all times there were intense flashes of anger, confusion, and hurt that rumbled beneath the surface. It was like a perpetual storm that never stopped brewing. It was that weird edge that thrilled her.
To be linked emotionally and physically (through their powers) to someone as complex as he was such a whirlwind of excitement to whatever was left of Jane's more scientific side.
Loki was silent for a while. He closed his eyes, and slowly, the transformation took place. Dark spots stained his pale flesh and bloomed until his entire body was a trademark Jotun blue. Black markings etched themselves into his skin. He grew a foot in height and his teeth sharpened into fangs.
He was cold. Jane watched in awe. There was a moment when she started to feel a slight impending doom but a few shared heartbeats showed that he had no ill will.
"Jane," he said, tone still gentle. His voice was deep and resembled a growl, which would sound almost threatening to anyone who was listening near by.
"Yes, Loki?" she responded. His eyes snapped open. Blood red gaze peered into her soul and she could feel the strange intent that stirred in his chest.
"Ancient Jotun Ritual. I need you safe," he growled. He pulled her from her spot in the water, to a more intimate position on his hips. She could feel a panic rise in her chest. He almost never laid hands on her after their mating ritual, as though he were trying to make up for the invasion of her space. This was too close. Intimacy was always dangerous territory for her—even with the gentleness of this god was capable. But with a Jotun? She wasn't sure if she was going to make it out alive.
She didn't want this. She was terrified.
He leveled his face to hers, and closed the space between them. The kiss was different from the others they've shared before. This was soft, comforting—opposite of what Jane was expecting. His arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into his chest. A firm hand on the small of her back, and the other stroking her hair.
"I won't—" hurt you, he began to say as he adjusted her hips. She could feel him thick with arousal, against the inside of her thigh.
"I know" she said, in hesitant submission.
With a wave of his hand, they were back in the tent. Dry, still naked, with her body pinned down on the bedding. His strong frame poised above hers. Before she could register the change of surrounding, he was kissing her, his hand on nape, as he pressed their bodies close. Suddenly, reluctantly, he pulled back with an angry growl, allowing her a moment of space from him. He knew she needed a moment; he knew she despised being forced into a situation without knowing what she was going to deal with. He understood who she was and what she needed. He was her mate, after all.
Her heart was beating hard against her ribs, her lips swollen, and a foreign need burning in her chest. She could feel his want—his desperation. But it was different from the first time. The first time, he was human—or close to human. With sex being a pleasure of the flesh that he was familiar with and could control. Tonight he was in a different form. He was a Jotun, a demon. She knew he never attempted intercourse with this form, and could feel the wild, raw arousal that could barely be restrained by his god-iron will.
She approached cautiously. His eyes tightly shut and his face twisted into a snarl. Jane laid her hands on his body, familiarizing herself with the planes, the scars, and the markings. She needed to reassure herself. His erection, which burned a deep blue, was foreboding and thick with need. It resembled a human penis, albeit noticeably bigger but with ridges that ran in a maze of spirals around the length.
As her hands passed his hips, his jaw clenched. His eyes snapped open and blood red eyes held a sharp steady stare. She knew he wasn't going to be able to control himself any longer.
For the first time since the dark planet, she willingly surrendered. She reached out, placing her hands on his shoulders, and eased herself down on the bed as she pulled him close to her. He did not need further encouragement, already positioning his erection between her legs. Her body tensed in fear. Rape, her mind whispered. Her breath came in short shallow gasps. Loki met her eyes and held her gaze, a silent reassurance that she was safe. He pressed the tip into the warmth between her legs, never breaking eye contact.
She could feel a mix of concern and lust radiating from him in waves. He hadn't lost his mind to pleasure, as most men would have done. He was a god, above else, after all. She breathed a sigh of relief and slowly started to relax, her eyes drifted closed. She trusted him. A voice spoke at the back of her mind, this will hurt. Don't be afraid. I'm right here. Breathe deeply. It was his voice. Her eyelids flew open "Loki?" she questioned. The god gave a sharp-toothed smile and kissed her, hard. She surrendered herself to wave of pain as the Jotun eased himself into her.
Jane tore away from the kiss and bit his shoulder to stop herself from screaming. The dull pain between her legs felt wrong. It felt foreign and painful. Not like the first time, when he slid into her, she felt a bond form. A joining of their souls, like lovers coming together after months of being apart. This time, it felt like being forced into intercourse with a monster that overpowered her into surrender.
Loki could sense another panic attack. His lips rested against her cheek, lingering until she released his shoulder. Black blood stained her skin that came in contact with the wound on his shoulder. Relax, he said, licking the blood from her lips before taking her into a kiss. She deepened the kiss desperately trying to distract herself from the pain. She's accepted him.
Buried to the hilt, he moved his hips gently up and down, up and down. Bumping the bundle of nerves that made her jolt with the sensation, the pain gradually ebbing into pleasure. She bucked her hips upward to meet with his, pushing him deeper into her. So that's what the ridges are for, she thought in passing, as another wave of pleasure washed over her, the movement of his length created a thrumming that stimulated the bundle of nerves behind her clitoris.
It was her first moan that startled him into the first ejaculation, a cool, heavy weight she could feel spreading inside her with every shaky thrust of his hips. He chuckled weakly as his length pulsed within her, releasing spurts of Jotun seed. A small smile graced her lips and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She moved her hips with the rhythm of his, rocking until he had emptied himself completely. The movement stilled between her legs and she waited a few moments, and then slowly made a motion to separate them. Loki's hands were fast on her hips when she had almost detached, the tip of his still erect penis barely sheathed in her.
"Not yet," he growled, pushing back into her with an agonizingly slow thrust that sent sparks of excitement up her spine.
"You've finished," she informed him, matter-of-factly.
"Jotun Rituals..they—we don't separate until dawn." He leans in to kiss her.
A laugh escapes her and causes Loki to smile.
"What it is?" he inquires as he moved, a gentle swaying of the hips that made Jane arch her back.
"Sex? All night?" her tone comes out as half-astonished, and half-whining.
"Not the sex, but we do need to stay joined until morning comes, my darling."
For once, she doesn't contest when he called her 'darling.' Responding instead with a chuckle and she pulls him into a kiss. He notices and with a small peck on her cheek he asks,
"What? No tantrum at calling you my darling?" he mocks her jokingly and gives a firm thrust. She moans and tilts her head slightly, briefly allowing herself to enjoy the tremors and jolts of pleasure. Jane slowly comes back from her moment, and looks him in the eye.
"No point in creating yet another argument. We're going to be married and mated twice over now. I think it's best I accept that you'll be calling me awful things, sweetheart." She says the last bit sarcastically, trying to save face despite her general message of surrender.
She countered with a wicked smile and a languid lick on her neck.
"I knew you'd learn to understand that these feelings of yours were not reluctance but a form of passionate, lustful, mad, deep love for me. I am truly such a handsome fellow." Humour. Unusually pleasant, coming from him especially in this shape. She almost forgot his Jotun form because of their current activity.
"Really? Now is the time you pick to be funny?"
He's too far gone by the time her retort reaches his ears. His ejaculation is a familiar weight in her abdomen. He comes back to his senses and laughs and he kisses her. He rolls them over and she's sprawled on top of him.
"You're absolutely despicable," there is no bite in her words; just a feeble attempt to gain a semblance of an upper hand for the situation. She receives another chuckle from the god of mischief, in response and he gently caresses her cheek. Jane sits up on his hips and proceeds to trace the black marks with her fingertips. Her fingers are on his chest, his face, his arms. It's gentle and intimate. The first time she's made a move to connect more deeply with him.
Loki lies still, and absorbs himself in the moment, trying to memorize the patterns her fingers trace upon his skin. He hums softly. It's an old Assgardian lullaby, one of his favourites. His hands find her hips and he gently sways her to the rhythm of the song.
"I love you," Jane says. Loki freezes mid verse and he stares at her intently. He sits up, his eyes level with hers.
"What did you say?" He asks in disbelief. The words she spoke were unfamiliar territory. His voice is deep and harsh.
"I mean I can't say with a hundred percent certainty that I honestly do," she explains quickly, "Our situation is unexpected and unplanned and we've both sort of done things just because we had to."
Loki is silent and he looks away, but Jane could feel the confusion and distaste burning under the wild lust the still ran through his veins.
"But in this moment," she continues softly, her arms move to cling around his neck. He pulls away slowly but she holds on and looks him in the eye and says, "I do. I love you. I trust you. I know you. And I don't know if it's the hormones or the rush of the moment or the bonds, but I believe this will work—we will be together beyond this war."
"Jane." His voice is laden with emotion. This is too much. He didn't sign up for this. This can't. He can't. But even with the feelings of shock and anger and distrust he can feel her, in this moment. In this moment, he could feel her unadulterated love, a strange warmth in the coldness he was used to. This wasn't what he deserved or wanted after all that's happened. Or was it? Was this what he needed after the war? After the betrayal on Aasgard?
For the first time in a long time he was unsure. His arms wrapped around her in a strong embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She held him and waited for the storm in his chest to calm. Jane moved her hips, and he snapped out of his reverie. His red gaze zeroed in on her, intent and filled with lust. He turned them over and thrust madly. He came once, twice, as the pale gold light filled the tent. Loki pulled out abruptly, as the blue melted away from his skin and he changed back to his human form.
Jane sat up with a start. "Loki." She called out, but the god ignored her.
He grabbed a robe, and stalked out, leaving Jane abandoned, confused, and hurt. Jane lies back on the sheets and presses her hands on her eyes. Great, yet another relationship screwed. Good job, Jane, you screwed up another man with your feelings and words and guess what? You can't break up with him. You are stuck in an awkward marriage forever. FOREVER, JANE. FOREVER.
Tears sting at her eyes and she lets them fall with a shaky sigh, she gets up with the intention of washing away the stickiness from the previous night. She finds Loki standing the in the middle of the tent, a wash cloth in one hand, and the other in a tight fist. She makes a grab for the blanket, suddenly uncomfortable with him seeing her naked, but with a jerk of his head, the blanket jumps beyond her reach. He walks up to her, and kisses her. The kiss is passionate and gentle. It leaves her breathless as he moves away.
"I'm sorry." He says. "I am not built to handle these situations with grace." He slips something around her neck. It's a thin gold chain. Attached is the most exquisite emerald she's ever seen, set on an elegantly crafted gold ring.
"My…adopted mother gave it to me when I reached the age of courting, with the instructions to give it to the woman I would take as my wife and lover." His tone was soft, almost as though he was embarrassed to be discussing something so private, and so far out in his past.
He interrupts her as she opens her mouth to speak. "Please, don't say anything. Just…" words fail the silver tongue. Jane nods and leans into him, and his arms come around her.
With a wave of his hand, she's back in the metal tub, which is half-filled with warm water. She sighs.
"I wish you'd stop doing that without warning. You have no idea how strangely disconcerting it is to keep being magicked all over the place."
Loki doesn't reply. Instead, he joins her in the tub.
Yep, that's it. That's all I wrote HAHA. Someone take the main idea of this story and make it into something better. Please and thank you