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).
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.
I'm going to wait until Sunday to update this. That's what I told myself. I'm going to wait until Sunday. I'm going to wait until Sunday. I'm going to wait until Sunday. Ahhh... screw this...
And so, a new update. Why? I guess, I just want to get it out and who cares if no one reads this story. It wants to be shared, it's writing itself basically. So here goes...
As for those who reviewed...
THANKS TO WBSS21! Who gave me a splendid review for the last chapter and was a great encouragement to me. Thank you for your kind words!
It's so great to hear from people who are reading... So be sure to say hi!
[you know you want to talk about epic hair!Loki!]
[you know you do!]
[just do it]
In other news... I will update... Sunday as well. Or Monday? Let's see how long I can hold out. Also, I'll be posting a map of Jotunheim at some point and some fanarts I sketched today while watching Skyfall with friends... Hm. Yes.
If you wanna friend me on tumblr, I'm... hiddlesayings, dappled-things, mischiefmakerloki, kakashidiot, suitsforall. Yep.
WARNING! WARNING! Injuring of a baby and massive feels! WARNING! WARNING!
[runs away]
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 3
Abandonment
"What shall we do with it?" asked the master mage, named Vaetta, as he eyed the small babe which lay in the palm of his hand. It fit his palm quite neatly and he knew without a doubt that if he clenched his fist, he would easily break the bird-like bones without much effort on his part.
And no one would gainsay him. It would be compassion to put the little thing out of its misery – and miserable it was, trembling and flailing, tiny fists waving. Tiny cries rang out, thin and weak, easily swallowed by the vast icy darkness around it. Not the lusty cry a full-formed Frost Giant babe should have. It's blue skin should have darkened further and its red eyes were pale – a sign of fatigue and hunger. Not that it matters, thought the mage, it will die before the night ends, that is certain.
"He said to dispose of it," the healer mused. "I could take it for further study –"
"You mean to cut it apart?"
"Runts are born to our kind – but they die so quickly, being abandoned by their families in the dark of night. Shameful things. It is impossible for us to ascertain why they had been so deformed, but this tissue is alive and intact. Come, let me have it, Vaetta."
"It is a babe," the mage pulled away. "Small and deformed and unintelligent as it is, let it die with some kind of dignity – and go to the arms of the nattura and be at peace."
A foot soldier brushed past them, obviously in a hurry, and catching sight of the two giants glaring down at the small creature in their hands, paused and flinched at the sight of the deformed runt.
"Just bash its head on the rocks," he snarled. "This is war and there is no time for witless giant's tales or a scribe's nonsense. Asgard is upon us – and Laufey will have us all marching before tomorrow's cycle is over."
"I will lay it in the Gothahus, close to the Aldinn Stathr," pronounced the mage. "Concern yourself not with the babe, you are, after all, more needed in the healing tents, Leysa."
"Very well," grumbled Leysa unhappily. "I bow to your higher station, Vaetta, and your foolish sentiment."
"Be well," Vaetta nodded and left his friend behind, clutching the still wailing runt to his chest.
[... fortunately...]
Unfortunately, the Gothahus would not be be accessible tonight, for a storm had descended on Utgard and no Frost Giant went out into the cold, no matter how powerful and hale they might be. If the Asgardians were indeed on their way, they would have to survive the powerful winds which came from the north and Dagaheim. A cruel kind of wind which stabbed you with its cold knives and brought many a good creature to its knees.
Vaetta wrapped the babe up in a piece of rough sacking, binding the legs and arms down, surrounding the bald head which now he saw was fully formed, complete with the matrilineal lines of Laufey. If it had been but larger, it would have been... perfect.
The next morning, Vaetta was busy with a morning ritual to bless Laufey's early morning expedition, followed by a very serious council concerning a prophecy of doom foretold by Kaldro's runes. Thus, it was not until evening time that Vaetta finally found the time to pull the now quiet babe from the hard bed of warm rocks he had laid it on. He had fed the small thing in the morning and quickly fed it again – its last meal. Then, cradling the tiny bundle of rucksack in his large hand, the mage left for the Gothahus and the Aldinn Stathr.
He had only started walking for a short while when a large cry rose from the eastern part of the city, and Vaetta's steps hurried as he realized that Laufey, who had set out to meet his Royal Consort, Farbauti, on the road, had returned earlier than expected. From the sounds of it, a battle was upon them again.
An apprentice rushed up.
"Master Vaetta, you must come quickly – the mages have been gathered by Laufey in an effort to send a storm to delay the oncoming Aesir, for the first company of Odin have been joined by a massive horde, complete with sorcerers and the like of their own. Cursed Gatekeeper and the Bifrost – what have you there – where were you off to at a time like this?"
"I wished to present the runt of Laufey to the Nattura at the Aldinn Stathr," Vaetta sighed. "Here, take it to the temple steps and set it there before the alter – go, young one. I will return to the others."
With that, he shoved the now squalling babe into Ekol's smaller hands and returned to the Eastern Wall, hoping that the boy would follow his words to the letter. Apprentice Ekol was oftentimes careless, although a favourite with Master Virthing. Vaetta shook his head. Sorcerors from Asgard... at a time like this. He sighed. Already too many of us have been lost, our kind are dying out as it is. Depletion of the realm's atfirth speaks of a serious matter – a corruption – a breaking of ties with our Heimsrsal. Will the bonds which tie us all together ever be fully healed? Our King is already a clumsy wielder of power... and our land bears the scars of such hasty usage. However, even worse are other alternatives... If Laufey-King were to fall in battle, if the Casket were to be lost... slow death would visit Jotunheim... and stay.
Jotunheim's troubles descended on Vaetta's broad shoulders and as he the wide courtyard at the Eastern Gate, the mage forgot about the small creature. It's life was over. A mere spot on the large canvas of Jotunheim's history, not even worth a footnote.
[... but do you not know that one blotch of paint can stain a whole silk canvass?]
-0-0-0-
Apprentice Ekol was beside himself with worry, his footsteps quick and hasty as he slid and slipped over the icy stairs and stones leading toward the inner parts of the large city – the heart of Utgard, the Aldinn Stathr, the ancient temple of the Heimsrsal, the nattura and the For-Eldra. Others passed him, headed in the opposite direction, none stopping to ask the time of day or question where he was off to. This was no time for idle chatter – and the apprentice wished to complete his duty (however useless he thought it) and return to the side of the Master Mages as soon as may be.
If I drop the thing along the side of the way, Ekol stopped and eyed the small bundle with distaste, who would care in reality? Laufey-King said that our Realm is all – first and foremost in our hearts and in his – and he would give all to save it. And yet here I am, wasting time with a thing – Musing darkly, he looked about him. And then caught sight of a solution.
"Hey you," Apprentice Ekol drew himself up to his full height (not incredibly imposing since he had not yet achieved his Virtha Aevi, but authoritative enough for a lesser clan). He looked down at a younger, poorly dressed Giant who was standing at a doorway uncertainly gazing at the eastern wall.
"Apprentice," bowed the servant, catching sight of Ekol as the apprentice approached.
"Take this and deposit it upon the steps of the Aldinn Stathr – this is the express mission appointed you by Master Vaetta," Ekol said, holding the deformation upside down absently.
The servant took the thing into his smaller hands and eyed the tiny creature with distaste and loathing.
"It is a cursed thing and should be bashed upon the rocks or fed to carrion or –"
"Silence, fool," Ekol snapped, wishing, not for the last time, that the ignorance of the lower clans had not been left so long unattended. "Look closely at the lines of its house."
A pause as realization set in and the servant nearly dropped the bundle in its grasp.
"It is of the line of –"
"Again, silence! Take the thing and present it to the nattura on the steps of the Under Altar at the Gothahus. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Apprentice," the servant shifted his new charge and nodded, eyes wide.
"And not a word to anyone or Master Vaetta will come and find another use for your tongue."
"Yes, Apprentice." (Fear now. Fear was good.)
"Well, what do you wait for? The Sun to rise? Go now!"
"Yes, Apprentice."
They parted ways and it took only a minute for Apprentice Ekol to forget the small scrap of Jotun now on its way to the inner sacred place of Utgard.
[... Heimsrsal was waiting...]
-0-0-0-
Thanks to the Gatekeeper, as the Jotunns call him, Asgard was able to land a new vanguard closer to Utgard. When the Asgardians descended not long after, chaos broke loose within and without the citadel. Underneath the cold moons of Jotunheim and the bright, frozen stars, a mighty battle was waged, laying wreck to homes and halls and palaces and old and young. Black blood and red stained the white snows. Smoke rose and billowed and the ground shook as the armies clashed in thunderous battle.
Dodging flying rock and falling arches and roofs, the servant made a slow journey to the heart of Utgard only to find that it had already been overrun in battle. Slipping amongst the shifting shadows, the servant crept in through a newly made hole (thanks to some kind of Asgardian weapon, no doubt) in the side of the Gothahus. Making his way along the ground floor of the great temple, the servant found the Under Altar and at the sound of a crash nearby, nervously shoved the bleating thing onto the side of the step – and ran away. To his death.
No Frost Giant would hear from him of the mysterious runt which came from Laufey's blood.
[... who can hear a child's cry under the voices of war...]
[... only the Heimsrsal...]
Hours passed by (what are called days in Midgard) – blood flowed down the steps of the temple's High Altar and down the Under Altar. Above, miles in the sky, on the very seat of the sacred place, the Aldinn Stathr, where the Casket sat with Laufey's hands upon it, Odin came. Here, they battled and here, Laufey lost.
Soldiers poured in the Gothahus – Asgardian and Jotun alike – and fought and clashed and slaughtered each other in the very sacred halls of the Heimsrsal and nattura. Corpses cluttered the stairways and halls and winding passageways – and the steps of the Under Altar were littered with rocks and grit and dust. Defilement and death mingled in the air.
[... they grieved... they always grieve...]
The small runt, the little thing, the unnamed deformity, had long since been jostled from its spot near the square altar which had once upon a time served as a place of meditation for the long-since defunct priesthood. A Jotun had kicked the poor thing without even noticing it and the blue and brown bundle rolled painfully off the stairs, ending up underneath an icy ledge and overhang, hidden from sight by the corpse of a blonde-haired Asgardian warrior which had fallen close by soon after.
Stunned and bruised it lay there silently.
[... Heimsrsal wept...]
KYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! BABY ABUSE! [flails] [pets Loki] There, there, KI is here.
So some of you might be like, this is unrealistic... Actually babies are quite hardy. First, quite a few late-term babies actually survive abortions and have to be killed (don't know how to say this in a nicer way) outside the womb (read this while researching abortion procedures). Second, did you know some babies survived going over Niagara Falls? Thirdly, Loki is a Jotunn baby (even if a runt) and that means... HIGH MASS and DENSITY and stuffs. So... even though he doesn't do a thing, I think this baby!Loki is freaking BAMF.
[Also I have a history of dropping/falling with my baby siblings and actually injured a couple. So, um, yes. Babies be hardy.]
Glossary:
Nattura – spirits
Gothahus – temple
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place
Atfirth – energies
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm
For-Eldra – Ancestors
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age