A great tale was known throughout the harsh land of Jotunheim; one of adventure, fear, and eventually love. Most believed it to be pure fantasy and would tell it to their children before bedtime, while others would look on it as part of their vast history. But no matter who did the telling, it all started like this:
When the hordes of Asgard defeated Jotunheim's army, lead by The Allfather himself, they took all. The Casket of Ancient Winters was stolen away as price for their lives. The king made slaves of the ich and poor alike, took their gold, silver, and anything of value. This was all proclaimed in the good of the realms, so that Jotunheim might never be a threat again. But one escaped, her belly full with the seed of royalty and a fire burning in her heart.
Queen Farbauti fled to the western mountains, where the land was harsh and not suited for a woman to give birth. And yet, she found herself in a dark, damp cave as one Loptr came screaming into the world. He was a tiny thing, no bigger than the palm of the giantess' hand, and yet she felt nothing but love swell in her breast for the babe.
For months, she made her home in the cave, building a fire to keep warm and leaving to hunt to keep her and her child alive. At night, she would huddle close with her Loptr tucked into her side, whispering to him stories of the great cities of the east he would one day rule. Of the wretched king he would one day kill.
One day, she went on a hunt, and never came back. When a tribe of Jotuns passed by in search of food, all that was left was the fresh blood sinking into the snow. They moved on. However, one warrior by the name of Angrboda heard a babe's cry in the distance and separated himself from the group when he had the chance.
The entrance to the cave was blocked by snow and what seemed to be magic; a trait not many Jotuns possessed. He ran back to the hunters, telling them excitedly of the noise he had heard and asking for their help in uncovering the mouth of the cave.
And so, with thirty men, they cleared the path to reveal nothing but a runt wrapped in swaddling clothes. They snarled at Angrboda, telling him only to bother him with important matters before storming out of the cave, angered at missing the chance of prey. But the warrior had pity for the poor babe and picked the child up, taking furs from his pack to wrap more tightly around the infant. Once warm, the child stopped his wailing and blinked up at the giant's face, his tiny hand reaching up toward him. Angrboda smiled.
Loki ran through the snow covered hills, a spear in his hands as he chased after the great white panther that had been terrorizing his village for months. The beast had made a great mistake in being caught. His feet barely touched the ground as he ran, whooping and grinning the whole time. When he finally cornered the beast by day break, they were both tired and he narrowed his eyes. "Stay put, foul thing. It would do us both a favor," he murmured while it stared back at him with unimpressed red eyes. But it seemed resigned after a moment and did not put up much more fight as Loki's spear pierced it's side.
When he came back to his village, blood dripping down from his sides as he carried the pelt of the creature over his shoulder and the meat in a sack, he was greeted with great yells of excitement. He grinned at them all, finally glad to have the recognition he had so long deserved.
The grin fell as he saw Thrym walking out of his tent, a frown set deep on his stony face. Those gathered fell silent as their chief came to tower over Loki's small form.
"That was not your hunt to take, little one," came his resonating voice, chilling Loki to the bone.
The runt did his best not to scowl and tell him just what he thought about that. "Did I not slay your beast? I did you a favor, Thrym. None of the others seem to have done much good in killing it."
"Slay the panther you might have, but you did so without honor. Tell me, how long did you run? Did you chase him until he was too exhausted to put up a fight? That is not hunting, Loki."
Just as Loki was about to retort, his father stepped forth, between him and Thrym. Loki couldn't even see over the other giant and he had to lean to the side in order to see what was happening.
"Leave him be, Thyrm. He cannot unkill it. If it were one of your sons, you would be proud."
"Your son is a menace, Angrboda, and I will not stand for it much longer." He then turned to go back to his tent, uneasy murmuring erupting from the crowd the moment he disappeared. Loki scowled, throwing the pelt to the ground and the meat after it, stomping off to his own tent.
He threw himself down onto his pallet, his arms crossed under his chin as he glowered at the furs that made the walls of his home. A few minutes later, the flaps parted again and just as he had expected, in stepped his father, a frown pulling at his lips as he ducked to fit inside the smaller tent.
Loki continued to glare at the wall. "I do not need protecting, father. I could have handled him on my own," he complained, sounding much like a child.
Angrboda gave a great sigh, coming to sit cross legged on the floor of the tent. "Loki, I am only trying to help you. You are still young yet. He would not have listened to you."
"He did not listen to you, either," he reminded him, finally turning to face him.
"Perhaps not, but he did leave for now." He inched closer to lay a hand on the small one's shoulder. "You must stop these fits. It is unbecoming, my son. You will never earn his respect this way."
Loki shoved his hand off. "I do not care for his respect!"
"You should."
"Well, you're be sorely sorry then, because it matters little to me."
"Then what do you want?" Angrboda asked with a raised brow, dropping his hand. Loki deflated.
"I don't know..." And in truth, he did not. Since he was young, he had been fighting to make his way in their tribe. He was a runt, and as such all looked at him with barely veiled contempt. But he was their chief's nephew, so they could not say anything against him. But even that was a lie. All knew that he had been found in a cave, abandoned by his mother who had not even wanted him.
"Come, Loki. Eat with us. I am sure you would enjoy seeing the fruits of your hunt." His father smiled lightly at him, patting his shoulder again.
After much convincing, Loki finally agreed to go with him, joining him around the great fire at the center of their camp. Yet the great feast in his honor did not do anything to sooth the sourness in his gut. That night, as he lie on the ground, staring up at his ceiling, he decided he needed to get away.
And so, in the middle of the night, he departed into the woods scattered over the mountaintop, not planning to return for quite some time. Until he had done something worthy of the tribe's respect. His father's respect.
"Jesus Chist, Thor, you could have warned us it would be colder than fucking Antarctica here," Tony Stark complained, shivering in his heavy parka and three layers of clothing. And still, it was freezing and he couldn't even feel his toes.
Thor just grinned over at him; the bastard. "I did tell you to pack extra clothing, Man of Iron." From beside him, Bruce grumbled. They had only agreed to go see Jotunheim with Thor because they had wanted to see what their world was like, maybe collect some data while they were there. Hell, they might even see a Jotun or two. But two minutes in, and Tony immediately regretted the decision to ever trust the god of thunder.
"Come on, let's just get out of here. No harm, no foul." Thor shook his head.
"Nay. I am here on a mission for my father. If you wish to leave, I can call upon Heimdall."
Bruce nudged Tony's side. "We only have to stay for a few days. It could help us." Tony couldn't argue with that. But it didn't mean he wanted to freeze to death.
"Fine. Just find us somewhere warm."
"That I can do," Thor replied with a nod before grabbing hold of the two of them and Mjolnir again, much to Tony's displeasure as he was yanked up into the air.
They made camp out in the planes, near a range of mountains. Thor had brought all of his camping supplies, which consisted of a lavish tent, dried meats, and hunting weapons. Bruce and Tony had taken their equipment for observing the world, along with plenty of coats and clothing to last a lifetime. It took all of two hours to get everything set up, and as soon as it was, Tony sat himself in front of the fire with a blanket and a hot cup of tea, where he planned on staying for quite some time. He couldn't even call Pepper to complain without any signal.
He and Banner listened "intently" as Thor told them tales of past excursions to the realm, using expressive hand gestures to get his points across while the two of them nodded sincerely. Eventually though, he fell silent and munched on what Tony decided to call jerky, though it wasn't quite the same.
For the next few days, they stayed in the same, godforsaken place before Thor decided to go up to the mountains. Bruce didn't seem to mind, as he thought they might find wildlife, and convinced Tony to go with them.
That was how a few days later he found himself running from a large, floating... thing with the ugliest face he had ever seen. It kept knocking into trees and roaring at him (was it roaring?) and he seriously regretted this trip by now. His suit was back at the camp and he couldn't get to it without being eaten. At home, he had been working on one that would come to him on command, but it was a prototype and too precious to take with him here.
He was running out of breath, but he dare not stop. But just as he saw what looked like a cave ahead, he tripped over a rock and fell face first into a pile of powdery snow. Above him the creature came to a halt in front of him and roared again, its spit splattering over Tony's face. But something came flying through the air and a spear lodged itself in the thing's eye. It gave a shriek before rearing up, only to be attacked by a flurry of blue. In a few minutes and a few angry yells later, the beast shuddered and fell to the ground, nearly falling on Tony until he scrambled back.
The blue thing climbed down from the beast and pressed his ear to where Tony thought its neck might be to check that was indeed dead. When it pulled back, Tony realized it looked to be a young man, with markings swirling over his body and furs wrapped around his slender form. A Jotun. Okay, so maybe getting chased by an alien creature would be worth it. Bruce would love to hear about this, though he'd probably be upset that Tony had left his phone back at the camp as it had no use, meaning that he couldn't take pictures. He thought he had stumbled upon something great.
Until that something was pressing his spear to his throat, his eyes narrowed as he spit out words in some foreign language that Tony couldn't understand. He caught the unmistakable word of "Aesir" though and immediately shook his head.
"Ah, no? I'm not Asgardian or whatever. I'm human." He swallowed. "Now can you lower that damn thing?" For a moment, they just looked at each other, the other's red eyes still narrowed and suspicious, before he slowly lowered his spear and yanked Tony up. Tony gave a disgruntled noise of surprise. He pointed to himself, reminded of the ridiculous movies in which the hero met the savage. "Tony," he drew out, trying to imitate those movies without sounding too stupid.
The Jotun rolled his eyes, obviously disagreeing on that stupid part. He said something more in the harsh language of his and he almost seemed annoyed before he sighed and pointed to himself. "Loki." At least it wasn't something hard to pronounce. With a nod, he picked Tony up and hauled him over his shoulder and started walking off to some unknown destination.
