Anyone else really not loving the forced romance element of the new Loki series?
Hi! I really hope you enjoy this, it's a bit of a change of pace but I promise you lots of lovely fluffy romance in the form of flashbacks! I had spent so long and so much writers block trying to write the fluff without basically retelling the Thor film but honestly, it was lovely scenes connected by wedding planning and such and it just made so much more sense to move forwards with my own plot and add them in as flashbacks. Plus, those tasty sweet flashbacks stop this from being a big ol' cryfest 3
Love you all, hope you enjoy it! Feel free to follow me on Twitter oraeliaa and DM me about the Loki series and its magical lack of character consistency for Loki!
The rattling of the road barely bothered her now, the cold and the mist nothing against her skin as it seeped through the barred space where a window could have gone. Gone was the gold armour, the intricate leathers and carved runes; in its place only plain, ill-fitting leather leggings and a linen shirt that had been plastered to her skin for some days now. She'd refused to cry as they'd doled out her punishment, her father holding the shears that uncaringly removed the intricate plaits that had been part of her identity since she'd left childhood behind.
As those strong fingers pulled, as the weight of the coiled locks fell about her, all she'd remembered was the tent by the lakeside - the feel of a different set of fingers as they'd twisted her hair. The love in his touch, even then. The way he'd looked at her on their wedding night as she finally removed the fastenings, letting the strands unravel and fall past her navel.
There was naught but fuzz now. The cutting had been ceremonial, the loss of what made her Nilf, a woman of her people.
A traitor's punishment.
Aela didn't care though. She didn't care that the gold had been removed from her horns. Didn't care for the hair that had been taken from her, or the gilded fastenings she'd lost. All she saw when she closed her eyes was the sight of her husband falling from that rainbow bridge. Eyes locked on hers, hand outstretched. They'd allowed her to keep the God's tooth she'd kept so dear, and the small locket that now resided upon it, a cut lock of his hair held within. Her mother had cut that one, had untwisted the two small plaits. Hers and his, as was the Asgardian way.
The loss of a partner was one for life, in her culture. The bond of marriage was sacred. Even when tried for the worst crimes, the locket would never be removed.
Even cast out, as she was. Stuffed into a prison wagon alongside thieves and murderers…heading towards the front lines. The cracks in her world where the denizens of Hel slipped through. Some were quiet, like she, but others talked as if it were a holiday they were travelling to. Mercenaries, who loved and lived for the violence. Who bragged to the quiet wagon of their conquests, the number of Hela's forces they'd slain.
A few months prior and she'd have been with them. Loud, boisterous…Eirik or Isla by her side. She didn't want to talk now though, too sore to attempt the words, too tired to keep her emotions at bay. One had sidled close, thinking her easy prey. They'd tossed his corpse from the rear some days ago. She was unarmed, but still had her skills, her horns, her talons, should she wish it. She hasn't felt the rush of Asgardian magic in some weeks, not since it had failed to reach Loki in time, her legs too slow, his descent too fast.
Her father had whispered an order into her ear as he'd finished the quiet, morose task of preparing her for this punishment, but she couldn't think of it, couldn't focus past the burning grief that consumed her. She had been able to feel the Bjornlings at first, their touch upon her soul as familiar as her own thoughts until the blocker had been added. It was the first time in a long time she'd had silence, true silence. Then fire had burned through her soul and their voices had vanished. They'd shouted their love for her both verbally and within her mind, making the sudden silence as the magic had taken effect even starker. As stark as the moment Loki's connection had blinked out of existence.
They'd all felt the moment Loki had been lost to them, the chasm he'd left behind in their mental network. He'd been quiet down the bond, but his presence was still felt. And once it was gone...They'd all felt the absence keenly, as they'd been escorted back to Niflheim. Refusing to leave her side, snarling teeth and keen claws the only greeting for any soldiers that threatened to separate them.
Unfortunately, that hadn't worked with the Niflheim soldiers. Her fathers own people, Eiriks parents amongst them. All had been commanded to separate, to leave the young Queen to her father's hands, to her punishment.
Conspiring against a known royal
Attempted murder of Thor Odinson
Attempted murder of Odin, the AllFather.
Attempted coup and takeover of Asgard
She'd known little of Loki's plans, though it was of no matter. She'd known he had plans, and there was no denying the love between them. Not when her grief was impossible to hide; not when the Bjornlings wept alongside their leader.
Not when Sif stood to testify and told the Asgardian royal family how she'd caught them on their wedding day, wrapped in one another in a way no simple friends would be. There was love, passion, she testified. Everyone had seen their closeness, the carefully crafted amount of hesitation the Prince had shown when accepting Astrids suggestion that he wed Aela in Thor's place. And without the Prince there to defend himself, to defend her…
It was damning. She could barely speak through her sorrow and anger, tears like hot brands against her cheeks. Her gown had been in tatters, her weapons gone, her happiness with it. The Asgardian cell was bare, and she let the tatters of her heart show in the ruin she made of the space; the dragon's blood in her giving her the talons with which to mark the walls, deep gouges taking all semblance of order from the carefully laid tiles. The Bjornlings in the one opposite. Able to see, but not touch.
Not comfort.
Frigga had come down once and had simply stared at the savagery Aela had left of the room.
"I can see it, looking back, his love for you"
Aela didn't respond, choosing instead to stay silent. To let the pause speak for her.
"He was always mine. Regardless of parentage. Thor followed his father like a shadow, but Loki was always mine"
She'd conjured a chair, the show of power so reminiscent of Loki that it had furthered the lump in Aela's throat.
"Is this a confessional?" Aela had asked, letting herself stalk forwards, the predator, even in her cage.
"You could call it that, my dear. I have lost my son, my youngest...and hoped to grieve alongside you"
"We all grieve here" Aela had responded, her voice a growl from the screams she barely bothered to contain. It softened though, as she took in the tears. "And you are always welcome"
"Did you intend to kill my husband, my eldest?" the Queen had asked, voice as soft as it had always been.
"No" Aela responded, honestly. "And I don't think Loki was either. At least, not before he found out about Laufey"
The Queen hummed. "Do you ever think about fate, Aela?"
"I do. I have always believed that things happen for a reason, with a pattern. I've found the pattern hard to recognise as of late, though"
Frigga had nodded. "I believe the hand of fate was at play here. For my son to find someone to love, who loves him in return...who can touch his frost giant skin without fear, without pain. I often wondered what would happen, if he were ever to find out. How I would handle it, how Loki would handle it...I should have told him myself, far before that point"
The Nifl didn't mince her words. Didn't hide the rage that they'd both felt when he discovered his parentage...in the way he did. "Yes. You should have"
"I have many regrets in life, my dear. This shall haunt me for as long as I live, and I hope that sorrowful truth will bring you some comfort. To know my pain. To hear my apology, for what has happened, and is going to happen"
Aela knew the truth in the words and the fate that would be coming for her. "You have called for my father"
"You are to be delivered to him. For a Nifl punishment"
Aela had simply nodded. "I will be killed"
Frigga hadn't acted surprised at the revelation. "Will it be swift?" she asked instead.
Aela looked the woman directly in the eyes as she answered. "No. It will be slow, and painful. I will be sent to fight the agents of the dead. To give my life to protect the nine realms amongst my fellow criminals"
"Or to survive. To rise triumphant"
"Or to claw my way to life, yes"
"Aela, wife of Loki, daughter of Niflheim. I bless you with a long life. I bless you with Asgardian strength and valour, Niflheim ferocity and flame. Come back to us alive, prove your worth"
Blessing or Curse, Aela wasn't sure. She'd felt it settle alongside her god-given gifts, no end date given. Dooming her to a life of fighting alone.
No Bjornlings by her side, warming her body and soul.
No Loki, warming her heart.
She was a being of war, of fighting.
The cart stopped, its shuddering becoming a lurch as the perpetual motion finally eased.
Death had arrived, though whose it was, she was yet to discover. The doors opened, but no light entered from outside. No warming rays to cause their eyes to squint, to illuminate the dread in their faces. Just darkness, bleak and cold outside the cart as it was within. The shackles between her hands clinked and shifted as a burly man filled the gap the door had left and wrapped the collection of thick, partially rusted chains around his ham-like fist, not needing to move much to bring the prisoners to their feet. They'd had more slack, more ability to move before she'd wrapped her own chain around the neck of the interloper who'd attempted to move towards her, to rest his own hand upon her knee. Who'd felt the points of her claws as they'd ripped into the meat of his cheek. He unceremoniously tugged, lurching the 5 prisoners forwards and pulling them from the cart. Aela ignored the stink of them as their bodies pressed together, barely able to smell it anymore over her own unwashed aroma. Barely caring.
She didn't bother to resist as the brute dragged them from their confines, as she automatically took in the camp around them. It was enormous, stretching far into the distance - tightly packed, mostly occupied with large, patched tents. Whatever colour they'd started as, it barely lingered now, giving the entire area a bleak, bland appearance. Combined with the encroaching mist and lack of nature it painted a stark image, feeling like a prison, even without the dungeons she'd grown used to since that fateful moment on the bridge. It was also bustling, busy but without the energy of war camps she'd been in in the past. Warriors littered around the place, different cultures and peoples and genders intermingled; sitting alone and in groups, eating and sleeping wherever they dropped, by the looks of it. The first aid tent looked to be spilling over, injured warriors littered around the outside holding themselves and each other up. The smell in the air was thick, and for a brief moment the burn of the fire, the smell of cooking meat and the sound of clashing weapons brought Aela back to herself. A flicker of light, of fire, within her core.
This was a place of survival, and that's exactly what she'd do.
Survive.