Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Elder Scrolls, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Final Fantasy, Harry Potter, or anything else that finds its way into these pages. No disrespect intended, only homage, no profit made, only entertainment intended. If you're a fan, read it, if you don't like it, stop reading. Simple as pie.
Rating: M for Mature.
Spoilers: Few but possible throughout the comics and the entire MCU, although I don't know yet whether the MCU will even come into play here. Currently we are long, long before any of that takes place.
Chapter Three: Barbies
And I wish I could go back to playing Barbies in my room.
They never say that you've gotta grow up quite this soon.
How fast things change… now I'm here, and all I wanna do
Is go back to playing Barbies in my room.
- "Barbies," by P!nk
Loki walked through the front doors of Odinhall to find the Court dismissed and the Throne Room empty except for his father in the great Throne with his raven spies perched on the arms. Odin gestured to him and he approached with certain unexplained feelings of trepidation stirring in his heart.
"Yes, Father?" he said.
"Lodr Hvedrungr Odinson. You went hunting without my permission."
Loki's green eyes went wide. He hadn't thought to seek his father's permission, but it seemed so obvious now. What an idiot he was!
"I… I'm sorry, Father. I did not think."
"That much is clear. You did not think of me, and you certainly did not think of your mother. Do you not realize how worried she would be if she knew you were out in the desert on your own, with all the wolves and the wild creatures?"
Loki hung his head and shuffled his feet. "I realize it now, Father. I am sorry."
"Go to your room, bathe, and go to bed. You are not to play, and trust me that I will know if you breach this command. You may rise only when the servant comes to change out your bedding. That is the punishment you have earned. While you are wakeful, think on what you have done so that you will not do it again. You may go."
Loki bowed and saluted, and began shuffling out of the Throne Room, but Odin spoke again and he hesitated.
"Just for the record, my son – you acquitted yourself well on your hunt. When you are a little older and a little wiser, you may join your hunt club."
Feeling a little happier at these words, Loki returned to his rooms and entered his connected bath. A human would find something strange about this bathroom straight off – there was no toilet. Did they not have indoor plumbing in such an advanced world as Asgard? Well, of course they did. But Nords, like the Royals, did not require it. Allow me a moment to indulge in a biology lesson, for I find such things fascinating. Long, long ago, so long ago that it cannot be imagined, Nords evolved out of producing waste. They do not poop, they do not pee. They do not even have intestines. They have highly acidic saliva that begins the process of breaking down the food they eat as they chew, and three stomachs filled with such powerful acids that whatever enters them is sooner or later broken down and absorbed into the body completely, even if it is made of the strongest metals. Everything they drink is likewise broken down and absorbed, even poison, and properly metabolized. They have a small, residual colon, however, connected to nothing internal and acting as a sort of appendix, serving no particular purpose to the body. Females have no urethra and the male penis is used for nothing beyond reproduction. Loki barely noticed his, had never spoken of it with anyone, and when he did think of it at all he thought of it as a sort of short, misshapen "third leg." He did not even know that having one set him apart from girls.
The tub was magnificent, deep and jetted, with a pulsating shower head, big enough for a small boy to swim laps. Loki bathed, considered practicing his shapeshifting by turning into a fish and swimming around a bit under the water, but discarded the idea as that might be construed as playing. He washed up, dried himself off at the molecular dryer on the wall beside the tub, and put on his pajamas, which were plain of design but of the finest quality and workmanship.
He padded into his bedroom. His toys were all neatly put away, his Barbjoldrs up on shelves, his model space station quietly grinding away its current build process in the corner, his magic glass dragon collection tucked away on their farm, dormant and waiting to be played with. It would be hours before a servant came to change out the bedding. Hours in which he could be having fun with his many fabulous toys. Odin chose the best possible punishment for a small active boy. The hours spent whiling away in bed would give him plenty of time to regret his actions.
More time than you realize. Time works differently on every planet. The length of a day, a month, a year, it is different from realm to realm. It all depends on how fast the world rotates, and how swiftly it orbits its particular sun. In no known realm was time as slow and pernickety as it was in Asgard. It was almost incomprehensible, particularly to a mortal mind. A single Asgardian day was over a thousand Earth years long. Odin put Loki to bed just before lunch, and left him there until just before a meal that did not translate but which we will call "Second Lunch," a relatively short length of time in terms of an Asgardian day but in terms humans understand, a period of time lasting more than a hundred and fifty years.
Of course, Loki was Asgardian, and next door to immortal, and even though he was very young by their standards he was old enough to be fairly used to the length of an Asgardian day, and of course he did not know anything else, so it was not torture his father put him to, laying there in his cozy bed. But it wasn't easy, either, listening to his thoughts chase themselves through his mind like hounds after rabbits while his little body twitched and longed to jump up and run around. Missing lunch wasn't fun, either, and his stomachs rumbled and groaned their displeasure at having nothing to digest.
He tried to sleep. It was never easy – most nights his mother had to come in and tell him fantastical stories and ancient legends before his little mind would calm enough to let him slip into slumber. Frigga didn't seem to be on the way this time – probably on Odin's orders. He wasn't meant to sleep, he was meant to think on what he'd done. But it would be so much easier if he could sleep.
Finally, after a long time, his eyes grew heavy. He began to think he could slip off to sleep at last. He tried to let go, to let it happen. He felt himself drifting, growing slightly dizzy. And then…
"Housekeeping, Your Highness."
His body gave a reflexive jerk and his eyes popped open. No longer remotely sleepy, he sat bolt upright in bed.
"Oh, I am sorry, Your Highness, were you taking a nap? I can come back later. Or, if you prefer, I can swiftly change out the bedding and you may continue your nap on fresh, clean sheets."
"No, it's all right. My nap is over," Loki said. He slipped out of bed and climbed into one of the chairs in the room. "You may go about your business."
He watched the servant go about the business of changing out the sheets and comforters, working with sure efficiency. Servants were an everyday part of his world, and he barely paid attention to them, they were simply there, trying hard not to be noticed. Most of them were very good at it. They didn't last long at the Palace if they were not. Loki supposed that the advent of this servant meant that he was allowed to play, but he didn't exactly feel like it, yet. Perhaps after second lunch, when he didn't feel so hungry anymore.
Loki was not used to hearing servants say more than a few words at a time, but for some reason, while he worked, this servant felt compelled to speak to him.
"News travels fast around the Palace, you know, Your Highness. I heard you were rather naughty today. Went hunting all by yourself. You shouldn't do things like that, you're far too important to be putting yourself at risk in such ways."
Loki wondered whether he should really be listening to a servant dress him down for bad behavior, but it wasn't like the man was wrong, exactly, he'd heard much the same thing from his father. He kept quiet.
"I was there, at your presentation, you know. On the sidelines, serving drinks. Almost dropped my tray when the crystal cast its light on you. Most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Felt like I was filled with the love of the Nine and Six. I knew right then and there that you were something extra special, even if your father denied it."
Loki began to feel that something was a little off about this man, but he didn't know what. He did not yet know that sickness and evil lived in the hearts of men and women, even men and women of his own much exalted race, he just knew that a servant should not say such things about his father, at least not to him.
The servant finished tucking in the sheets – perfect corners – and smoothed the coverlet over the top. "There we go, all ready for bed tonight." He took the dirty bedding into the bathroom and stuffed it down a chute to the Palace laundry. "All done. You have a little spare time before second lunch, Your Highness – I wonder if you wouldn't like to see a secret of the Palace?"
"What kind of secret?" Loki asked. He didn't think he liked this man, but a secret? He liked secrets. Especially a secret of this Palace he thought he knew so well.
"A secret room," the servant said. Loki jumped up.
"Yes, please!" he said.
"Come with me. And be very quiet. Remember, it's a secret."
The servant led him out of his room, down the winding halls and through the Palace to the inner workings, where the laundry, the kitchens, and other servant-centric areas of the Palace were located. Loki had never been down here before. He had an idea that his father wouldn't like knowing that he was, but if there really was a secret room down here, he had to know about it.
The "secret room" turned out to be a large storage closet, filled with cleaning supplies and, oddly, a stained mattress laid out on the floor in the back corner. Loki was greatly disappointed.
"This… is your 'secret room?'" he said.
"Don't be fooled by appearances, Your Highness," the servant said, closing and casually locking the door behind them. "This is a very special place," the servant said. "A magical place."
"It doesn't look magical. It looks dirty."
"I know, but this is a special, magical place where boys become men."
Loki screwed up his face with doubt. "How do they do that?" he said.
"If you'll allow me, Your Highness, I'll show you."
"Oh… all right, I suppose."
"Take off your clothes, Your Highness."
"What? Why?"
"You know that nudity is a proud Nord tradition, do you not, Your Highness? You are always so heavily dressed, it is pitiable. You must learn to take pride in your body. Here, I will show you."
The servant took off all his clothes and stood before Loki in the nude. Loki was embarrassed, even though nudity was a very common thing for Asgardian males and his older brother Thor ran around naked all the time. Thor was not as mature as the servant. It made him think about his father possibly standing nude, and he didn't like to picture that. It just felt wrong.
"I think I'd better go now," Loki said, keeping his gaze averted from the spectacle of the naked man.
"No, you need to confront this. Be proud of yourself and your body! You are a stalwart Nord! Not a cringing Khajiit!"
"I have a bad power. I have to stay covered up so I don't take people's thoughts and memories," Loki said, backing away a bit.
The servant shook his head. "Your parents have filled your head with ideas that touching people is bad because you have this power, but you cannot go through your entire life without physical contact, Your Highness. You must learn to control your power, so that it no longer controls your life, and to do that you must touch people. Now take off your clothes."
Feeling very strange to be taking orders from a servant, Loki doffed his pajamas and stood uncomfortably in the nude. He was not accustomed to being nude, thanks to his power of absorbing the thoughts, feelings, and memories of people. His parents ensured he was always quite covered up from head to foot and he even wore gloves most of the time. This didn't stop him from making accidental contact from time to time – he'd accidentally absorbed his brother several times already, roughhousing and pranking – but that wasn't too traumatic, because Thor was young and still quite innocent.
Now that he was naked, he happened to notice something about the man that he had never seen before. His "third leg" suddenly grew very large and stood up straight. Loki's never did that. He was previously uncomfortable in this man's presence. Now, for reasons he did not quite understand, he began to feel a little bit afraid.
"You're a beautiful boy, Your Highness. I knew you would be. It's a crime and a sin that they keep you bundled away from the world under so many clothes. Your brother is more sensible, but he is not anywhere nearly as pretty as you."
"Have you brought my brother here?" Loki said, not sure what answer he was looking for.
"No. Only you. This is our place, our Special Place, Your Highness." The particular emphasis he placed on the words "our special place" increased Loki's fear.
"Why don't you lie down on the bed, Your Highness? You look a bit weary."
"I'm not t-tired," Loki protested.
"Shh, now, of course you are. You missed luncheon, didn't you? You must be tired and hungry, and it's still a while until second luncheon. Lie down, close your eyes, and relax."
It was cold in the storage room. Loki just realized it. He'd never been cold in his life, but he was shivering now. Slowly, hesitantly, he lay down on the dirty mattress. He didn't want to, but he felt compelled to obey the words of an elder.
"You're cold, aren't you? Unfortunately there are no blankets here, but I can keep you warm and help you gain control of your power at the same time," the servant said, and he came over and lay down next to Loki, wrapped his arms around him, and penetrated him where Loki hadn't even known he had an opening. At first, Loki did not even realize it happened, because his mind was so shocked by the flood of memories, thoughts, and feelings he absorbed – this was something he never before experienced. This man was nothing like Thor, innocent and a little slow on the uptake. This man was sick. Sickness pervaded every corner of his thoughts. It was almost enough to overcome the pain of violation. Almost.
Loki screamed and struggled, but the servant was too strong. He clasped a hand over his mouth to silence him and spoke meaningless calming words in his ear. That was when the first loud crash came against the door. The servant looked up, alarmed, and Loki managed to bite his hand hard.
"Ouch, you little shit!" the servant said, his attention drawn away from the commotion at the door for a moment. And then there was a second crash, and the door flew off its hinges and a pair of Royal Guards came charging in, followed by Odin himself.
"Seize him!" Odin commanded, and the guards immediately moved to arrest the servant, pulling him from Loki quite roughly. Loki lay on the mattress, crying in pain and humiliation, as the guards dragged the servant to his feet.
"You, take this foul bastard to the dungeons to await trial. You, go at once to fetch a blanket for His Highness. He is injured, he must be taken to Lady Eir as soon as possible." The guardsmen saluted, and one dragged the servant out of the room while the other ran to the laundry to find something in which to wrap Loki.
"I-I-I-I'm sorry, Father," Loki sniveled, weeping into the stained mattress.
"Hush, lad," Odin said, not unkindly but certainly awkwardly. The guard returned with the blanket. Odin took it, kneeled down with some difficulty beside Loki, and wrapped him up. He rose, remarkably with no assistance, and picked the boy up in his arms.
"Tell Her Majesty that I have taken her son to the Infirmary. Tell her to come at once but spare her the details," Odin said, and left.