Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of), slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

Wow! Thanks guys - for being patient and all. First day of school went OK, I think. . More people following this story and faving it! THANKS SO MUCH! Be sure to chat! I love talking about writing and the fandom!

Thanks to: Winter Cicada, Ellie, DragonsFlame117, Ireland Ranger, NX-Loveless-XN, wbss21, soupcan (welcome~!), ClaMiAl, Anarane Oronra (welcome also~)!

To Ellie: Thanks so much! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

And more plot happens~! What a plotty story this is! (death) I hope that we can seem some interesting sides to people in this chappie though! Lots of groundwork being laid for the "Thor"/"Avengers" stuff here! In a way...

BE SURE TO CHECK MY PROFILE FOR LINKS TO THE ASGARD MAP!

Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 36
Ripples Of Change

Who we hold so deeply in our heart...

Who we watched from untimely birth...

Who carries all our hopes...

He struggled upward through dark waters, dark waters which weighed him down and pulled on heavy armour and the spear which hung limply from his hands, which fell now from unresponsive fingers, which plunged deeper below into dark. He could not speak, could not hear at first – but there was dark. Darkness fell.

[...fell...]

Wake, beloved, who has come so far...

[...on Jotunheim...]

A wide, seemingly eternal flat swath of land lay before him. He turned about slowly - it was the same from all sides - a vibrant field of green rising, running out to meet the sky of vivid of blue. Green and blue. No, he thought, there are others... Reds, purples, pinks, yellows.

Reaching down, he plucked absently at the blue-red bloom brushing against his ankle and, drawing the flower up, straightened to stare at the soft fragile stem in his fingers. His right hand rose to brush across the petals.

Inhale.

The air about him began to chill.

Exhale.

A buff of breath barely visible in the frozen air - he glanced down and saw it there in his hands - a crystallized flower - frozen beauty - he jerked - it fell - from nerveless fingers -

Inhale.

It fell.

Exhale.

It shattered into a thousand pieces. Even more - until it was naught but dust - like a ripple in a pond, the force disintegrated the now frozen world. Naught but dust - dust and fragments rising to meet a dead sky.

Inhale.

And below -

Exhale.

Below gaped the Void. Beneath his feet, it opened up and he was falling - He was falling, swallowed by the ancient enemy of his childhood nightmares: the ever hungry Void. It was empty, they had said in Utgard, empty and eternally starved for life.

-itwasemptyitwasemptyitwasempty-

However, they were wrong. It called to him. It said:

You are mine.

[...silence fell on Jotunheim...]

Time passed, uncounted - and then the darkness eased. A smudge of something paler, a lightness, a grey towards which he moved instinctively. Dappled and moving and changing. Reaching upward, he tried to find his way.

Go, beloved...

Take what is yours!

You have never been so near as now.

Elska? He thought hazily. No... not Elska. Never him. Could not be...

The grey spread and white pierced through, flickering and moving in random patterns as though he were floating beneath the surface of a lake and looking upward at the sun. His pale hand rose from his side as he turned to watch it. Long fingers reached out – and a hand emerged through the light to take his. With a gasp, Kol'la emerged.

[...the in-between world is walked by those who sleep...]

[...the sleep of not-quite death opens those doors...]

[...and then, they are shut...]

"What happened?"

A pause. Rustle.

"He will live. 'Tis but a broken arm - and the left leg is badly shattered. The bruises he gained in battle and the mild fracture of his ankle will fade. The ribs were damaged also, but those will heal... with time. The..." Another pause. "The lower wound from the -"
"It was alien technology, Skrull, I think. Or Slaver. I was given no time for thought, for when we arrived on the battlefield, the bandits had already laid waste - and the boy was on his knees. Gugnir made short work of the attacker - and creature... Many years have passed since these hands have taken life with violence." A sigh. "These young ones still must struggle for peace..." A silence, then: "He looks too pale."
"That is what worries me... for the weapon had plunged deeply and all the way through, and was extracted with great force, wrecking great damage on his internal..." A pause, then quieter. "And Thor -"
"Thor is well?"
"He is well."
"Does he know?"
"No."
"It was a close thing."
"Yes," Frigga whispered.
"Very close," Odin repeated. "On all fronts for the both of them."
"And?"
"Nothing," Odin finally replied to her unspoken question. "Icame in time... and the truth is ours for the holding. We will say nothing."
"You cannot think -"
"Search your heart, dear one," was the old King's soft reply. "What does it tell you? What has your foresight seen?"

A long silence then and choked cry.

"This is... not right..."
"No," Odin drew his wife into a close embrace, looking over her shoulder and down at the pale form of the young man once named Kol'la. "It was never right – from the beginning... but this is our chance to ease the ills the mistakes of Fate incurred upon us."

Frigga nodded against his strong shoulder. Times of change had come – for Thor, for the stable-hand, for all of them.

-0-0-0-

The Healing Halls of Asgard's Royal Palace, unlike the rest of the grand, golden and intricately decorated palisades, halls, rooms and passageways, soothed the soul with gentle blues and greens and little decor to overwhelm the eyes. Light curtains fluttered with the ocean breeze blowing off the Asgarthaharr, the Sea of Asgard. It was a cool wind carrying refreshment in the stifling heat of the Asgardian summer. Soothed by victorious battle, the wind of Asgard carried nothing but a serene song of golden grain, young cattle and fruit-laden orchards.

When Kol'la opened his eyes, his first glimpse was darkness slowly giving way, in reverse as it were of what he had last seen – as though he had woken up underneath a death shroud and even now was finding new life within. Fingers twitched as eyes recognized a familiar patterned interweaving knot in the high ceiling above him – the Healing Halls. Thanks to their misadventures, Thor and Kol'la both had visited this place for some kind of bandaging before.

But never have we woken up here, Kol'la mused. The warrior-mage sighed as he realized that Sif and the others would no doubt not let him forget that he had once again expended himself and proved his comparative weakness. I am surprised that they are not here to make such jokes at my expense... Nor has Commander Farfin arrived to scold me – surely I was late for my duties.

With that thought, the stable-hand turned his head and attempted to raise himself to his elbows – and failed entirely, feeling even more drained than usual. Cursing softly, Kol'la tried again, this time managing to heave himself onto his side in a vain attempt to get his legs over the edge of the bed. One of the curtains behind him slid aside with a light rattle and Kol'la tensed as he realized that he had been caught by, no doubt, the ever feisty Healer Reitha or her incredibly strict attendent, Aerith.

However, instead of an instant barrage of high-pitched scolding, there was only a slight gasp – and before he could move, Kol'la found himself being gently pulled back into his previous position on the bed by an unfamiliar, well-kept hand. As he turned, Kol'la found himself face to face with the worried face of the Queen herself.

Her Highness Queen Frigga was, as ever, lovely and fresh-faced despite the time years had laid upon her. The Vanaheim heritage she bore, they said, had gifted her with more than youth but also innate grace and the gift of Sight. Golden hair ran down in a stylish, yet practical way, spilling over soft blue fabrics which swathed her shoulders. Below, a stylish peach-white girdle cinched a slender waist and then more blue spilled downward to meet the paving.

Struck dumb, Kol'la found himself instinctively following her unspoken orders as she laid him back on the pillows, propping him up only a little before clucking over him in an absent-minded way as skilled fingers ghosted over now red-stained bandages. Shaking her head, she sighed and then smiled as if remembering something – a memory, no doubt, of another time her husband or son had come to her for care. Carefully pulling the soft blue cotton of the healers' robes away, Frigga revealed a carefully applied bandage which had been wrapped about Kol'la's light-muscled, yet thin torso.

He found himself incapable of saying anything – he, Kol'la, who could find words for any occasion. It was frustrating to say the least. Something in his body's tension must have translated, for then the Queen looked up and her blue eyes met his.

Kol'la found himself unable to look away.

"How do you feel?" she asked softly, placing a hand briefly on his forehead, smoothing away unevenly cut black strands.
"I feel... well... lady, I mean, Your Highness... I mean..." Unable to look away. Stammering. Like a fool. Kol'la wished he could bury himself, even in his pillows if need be. Dull heat flooded his face.
"Just call me, Frigga," she smiled then as if he had said something meaningful. "All my dearest patients do... and truly, I am glad you have finally awakened."
"How long -"
"A good week. I am afraid to say -"
"Oh no -" Kol'la paused as he realized he had just interrupted the Queen of Asgard. Green eyes rounded with fear and shame that he should show his poor manners so quickly. "I – I apologize -"
"No, dear, I understand," Frigga's smile became, if possible, even bigger and brighter. Blue eyes twinkled as she mischievously added, "I was about to say that Thor has been a lost soul without you about."

Then she looked down and began to carefully unwind the bandaging. It was a difficult process and Kol'la found himself managing to prop himself up enough for her to pass the strips from underneath him more easily. Small squares of herb-packed poultices and various other patches were slowly revealed – now definitely stained crimson. When he finally was able to lie back, Kol'la allowed the room to steady about him, feeling a bit more dizzy and light-headed than he would like to admit. Meanwhile, the blood-soaked bandages were removed and new were laid upon the slowly healing wound – this time bound with a simpler fastener.

When she was done, the blue robe was drawn again over Kol'la's chest and the sheets were pulled up about his waist and tucked in quite tightly as if attempting to trap the young man back in the bed. Kol'la did not protest, but watched Frigga instead, closely, almost suspiciously as she disposed of the bandages and lined up a variety of potions he was to take in order to encourage the healing process. Various stones lay heaped up in a bowl on a far table with a stack of fresh bandages and other rare herbs and things usually stored for rather serious injuries.

"It was... it was bad?" He finally found himself able to ask and he coughed, throat a bit dry.
"Well," Frigga's voice was a bit muffled as she hung up a bit of fresh towelling and then brought over a pewter cup of water for him to drink out of slowly. "Well, yes, it was... bad..." She sat down and helped him drink his fill and placed the cup by his bedside table, blue eyes glistening with something he did not wish to name. "We were... all very... concerned. Worried, for you were not responding to the regular treatments." A sharp glance here covered by another serene smile. "Perhaps it was the weapon, we cannot say..."
"Thor – he is – he is well?"
Frigga laughed and shook her head, "Yes, yes, I am afraid my poor lummox is doing much better than we would like. One would think that a concussion would at least slow him down a little – but he was so vehement about hunting down the rest of the bandits and -" Here, she sighed, "Odin All-Father had to calm him down a bit when he saw you lying in... well, there was much blood, apparently."
"He stabbed me, I think. The bandit, I mean," Kol'la's fingers quivered over small pile of bandages on his stomach now hidden by robes and warm blankets. "From behind... I couldn't... I couldn't tell because of the moment – it was all so fast -"
"Yes, that is what Odin told me," Frigga leaned forward to take Kol'la's slightly trembling hand in hers. "But it is over now – and thanks to you, my boy is safe. We are so proud of what you did."
"It was just my -"
"We thank you," Frigga's gentle voice cut through Kol'la's dismissive remark, "from the bottom of our hearts."

For a moment, they said nothing and then Kol'la nodded awkwardly, not certain of what he ought to do with his hand in hers. Part of him wished to pull away, another part of him - the young child from the Gothahus deep down inside yearned for her to remain.

"You are..." The young man struggled for the words. "Welcome."
"Now, I would have you rest and I will sit and read some book that Thor brought for you. I brought my own, since my son said that you enjoyed reading above all, of which I heartily approve... Sadly, we will have to sample the delight that he selected - let us see what he got you – ah!" Here she laughed – a tinkling, magical sound – and Kol'la, eyes closed, revelled in the light laughter he had never heard before. "A treatise on the history of intergalactic piracy and the various technologies of bandits. A little too late if you ask me."

Kol'la grunted and coughed a little – the corner of his lips turning up in a reluctant smile and a well-hidden laugh. A foreign thing, yet... not entirely unwelcome. And, for the first time in his life, the abandoned child inside of him wondered if this was what it was like after all, if this was what the word Mother meant for those so blessed with them. Like Elska, he thought lazily, but softer.

"Let us see. The first chapter is entitled 'Piracy From The Dawn Of Time'. Hm. That seems rather presumptuous at best, but nevertheless, onward we forge – it begins with – 'The origins of all things, as is usual, must begin with earliest -'"

-0-0-0-

Frigga's soothing voice lulled Kol'la into peaceful sleep. Rising silently, the Queen watched her newest, now-sleeping patient - still too-pale face tipped forward with recently washed and combed dark-hair curling around his ears. The green, sharp eyes were now hidden, but she would not forget what she had seen in them, pain, fear, uncertainty and an aching want. Her chest tightened at the thought of what had forged such a young man. She gazed at her hand, noting how his fingers had twined tightly with hers.

No, she thought wistfully, brushing away long dark strands from his smooth forehead and gently kissing it. Leaning back, Frigga took her seat again without reclaiming her hand. He is here now... and I will not let him go. Not until... not until he has what he fears to need.

[...and so something that was made which can never be unmade...]

[...and a bond was born...]

[...will never be broken...]

There, in that cool, quiet world, the minutes and hours ticked by slowly and peacefully, interrupted only for short intervals by the outside world as represented by Thor and those who knew the quiet stable-hand.

Thor brought with him the smell of green grass, blue skies, warm sun and pungent sweat unleashed from gold armour and dark leathers. Sif and the others stood a few paces back, always, uncertain on what to say to the slender warrior who had, against all expectations, proved himself in a way none had done before. Nevertheless, Volstagg's young wife held no such reservations and in thanks sent along sweet pastries and other tasty food which were never given the chance to strain the young stable-hand's stomach thanks to Frigga's stringent dietary routine.

Commander Farfin came once as well, smelling of horse, straw, shat, well-treated leather and the odoriferous compost heap. The gruff man sat uneasily on the chair by Kol'la's bed, feet planted firmly apart, scratching his greying, wiry hair. He spoke of Kol'la's charges now given to a new stable-hand named Torna, who he thought was a complete waste of time – as usual for most beginners.

It puzzled Kol'la – that Farfin should speak of Kol'la the stable-hand in the past tense when he was so obviously there and more than willing to return. Yet, the young man said nothing and fell further silent as he contemplated the increasingly frequent times he had woken to find Odin sitting at the foot of his bed in the further chair, watching him sleep.

Odin All-Father was plotting something – that much was certain. But what? Kol'la wondered.

A week later, Kol'la began to walk on his own two feet again to the relief of Thor. It was a good moment – to finally be free. Free to go where? Kol'la wondered. What do I do now?

One night after the evening meal, the great door to the Healing Hall opened and when Kol'la's curtain slowly moved aside to reveal three mages and Odin, the almost healed patient suddenly understood. Calmly laying the book he had been lazily perusing aside, folding his hands and attempting to look wise and mature, Kol'la watched as Odin took the chair at the foot of his bed, as was his wont, and the other Mages arranged themselves about him: High-Mage Agaeti, Mage Hrotha and Mage Flarathir.

"We have come here this evening with the purpose of ascertaining the fitness of one so-named Kol'la to join the ranks of apprentice within the Mage's Court," High-Mage Agaeti's pompous voice paused and Kol'la found himself hard put not to burst out laughing at the incongruity of the entire situation.

On the other hand, he sobered up as he realized that Odin did look entirely serious and that the other Mages looked rather thoughtful as they surveyed him, this appears to be happening for certain... and even though they do not believe the All-Father entirely, being the skeptical, power-hungry scholars they are, this is my opportunity show them – show the All-Father my worth.

Kol'la straightened a little and listened a bit more carefully as the High-Mage continued, "Furthermore, this has been mandated by Odin All-Father himself, Highest Mage of Asgard's Council of Mages, and so sponsored, Kol'la of Asgard, will you step forward to take the trials on such a time as when you have been fully recovered?"
"I will," Kol'la replied quietly, lifting his chin to meet the High-Mage's piercing stare. "I will and thank you."
"Very well," nodded the white-haired man. "We have heard and some apprentice's witnessed your abilities first hand in battle – and tonight, if possible, we wish to see a token of your seithr."
"Here and now?"
"Indeed," Mage Flarathir smiled then coolly. "Perhaps the task is too much for the boy, Agaeti – he does after all still look rather -"
"I can do it," Kol'la's left hand twisted then and suddenly from the middle of his palm a flame of bright fire leaped and then quivered calmly and hovered there.
"There you go," Hrotha smiled delightedly. "Just as Garyth told us! So natural and so quick! Wonderful!"
"The boy will go far," Odin said as well just as Flarathir opened his mouth, no doubt to douse Hrotha's enthusiasm for the supposed boy-wonder. "He has a long way to go," blue eyes gazed at green measuringly, "but he will get there. Where he ought to be."
"Pardon, Your Highness, but -" Agaeti paused as Odin raised a hand.
"My wife has seen it also and this is the road we must all take. Together."

Kol'la said nothing, green eyes wide as the words sank in.

...my wife has seen it...
...this is the road we must all take...
...together...

Before he could say anything, Odin rose to his feet.

"Come, Agaeti. There is much to discuss before the night is over." The King paused and looked down at Kol'la, face still inscrutable and Kol'la tensed as the older man nodded. "Rest well – there is a long battle ahead of you."

And with that, they departed, leaving the hall silent, the perfect place for Kol'la to mull over the words spoken. The riddles. The hints. The promises that seemed to good to be true. Or were they warnings?

...this is the road we must all take...
...together...

Together, he thought, watching the candlelight flicker softly on the ceiling overhead. At least... at least... Kol'la drifted off to sleep slowly. At least I will not be alone...

[...this is the road we must all take...]

[...together...]

[...it starts here...]

[...as it did under empty skies...]

[...the empty skies of Jotunheim...]

[...they are waiting...]

There we have it. Another step for Kol'la to take. Another step... closer to Loki. Loki is coming in Chapter 40! (Or not... since I've had to insert a couple of chapters. Ugh.)

A few things to note:

1. Part of this chapter - the Frigga/Loki scene was so hard to write... It'd be great to hear feedback on it. Let me know what you think! (Even if it's just to say, "COOL!" or "WHAT IS THIS SHITE?!"

2. If you have fanart for this fic or something like that, be sure to give me a shout so I can spam on Tumblr and FFNET and elsewhere. XD

3. Be sure to check out the sketches and maps and fanart for this fic on my profile page! (scroll down)

4. Question time!

Q: Is Loki a shape-shifter in this tale?
Author's Note: IMO, if you watch "Thor", you see baby!Loki hold onto Odin's thumb and then shift his skin colour. I don't think Odin put the glamour on him (as he does in some stories/myths/comics), but that Loki is himself a shapeshifter of a certain level naturally, which could increase with power and effectiveness if he practiced. If you cast your memory back to those "good ol' days" on the mining colony, we see his first shape-shifting abilities when he changes his skin. However, I would say that his shape-shifting ability IS STILL linked to his magic, so with an immense loss of magic or coming into contact with his homeworld magic (using ice or the Casket) would cause him to revert to his Jotun colouring. I hope this makes sense!

Update in 5 days or so~!

See ya round!-KI

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker
Dou'ma – idiot
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium
cho'ai - lover
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore
Morning-star - a mace.
oma'auzha – mother-effer
oto'oa - big sister
udji'oo – a drug, like opium