Of Gates and Gods
A Stargate SG1, Thor Crossover
Disclaimer: The Stargate franchise is property of MGM and others that do not include PurpleMoon. Thor goes to Marvel and their legion of Minions. Norse Mythology in general belongs to THE WORLD.
A/N: I offered up a prompt on the kinkmeme, which received no fills. I was sad. I wanted some sexy Ba'al and Loki. So I eventually filled it myself. There should be more Marvel/Stargate crossovers in the world. EDIT: Sorry, hadn't realized formatting got rid of my dividers. Scene breaks now added!
Part One: Loki's World
Loki hit the ground hard enough to bruise the sky. At least that is what the people will say in the years to come as history is shared, woven out of the air on wagging tongues and dancing fingers. The shock wave from his landing causes a small avalanche that wipes out a small trading outpost, but other than that the Folk in the valley make it out relatively unscathed. The night sky over the mountain is lit with shifting colors, blues and pinks and purples and yellows, and someone cries out in awe: "Bifrost!"
The next morning, a small group of hunters is sent to investigate.
They call their world Thyrmswold, and their capitol Lokahiem. They were moved there long, long ago by a trickster who promised their people medicine and a place of plenty in exchange for loyalty and service. Idunn's golden apples cured their plague, so they record, and in the land they have remained uncontested but for the few failed raids by those that come through the god-pond.
Loki wakes to soft linens and softer smiles.
The mortals call him God call him Loki but it is not till he sees the blue of his hands that he asks why.
It is not that they are simple minded, but that they have faith and trust. Loki is Loki. Loki is a Loki. It is impossible to tell them no, their belief system has an explanation for everything Loki says, not that Loki would bother correcting their assumptions even if he could. They do not run from his monstrous countenance. They do not run from his magics. He changes shape to spy on them and when he reveals himself they laugh and a trick well played.
They laugh and lie and cheat each other in a constant cycle, a strange equilibrium. There are contests of wit as well as arms, and a celebration for his return. Loki drinks, and watches, and falls a little bit in love. He decides he will keep them.
They call him God, but he hears King.
The other is hard to find. He is not hard to kill. Black eyed and small, Loki can see the decay eating at the Loki's very core. The other is -was- a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy and imperfect for all the science at the would-be Aesir's fingertips. They are shadows of former glory. Bodies without soul. Warriors that have laid down their swords and stripped themselves to the bare bones of ideology.
When he wraps his hand around the other's neck, he can feel the sleepy pulse of forgotten seiðr that had never been given a chance to blossom, and he feels no remorse for the other's passing. The star-faring ship wakes to his touch, rune stones spilling their secrets one seed at a time, and before long he is the ship. His magic weaves through it testing and turning and knowing and Loki takes the seat designed for slight, small forms. It is surprisingly comfortable.
He steers Naglfar back to Thrymswold, a worthy prize if no warship, and watches as the majesty of Yggdrasil becomes no more than a blur of light and color in the corridor that the people of this universe call hyperspace.