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.
Yes! WE NOW COME TO A VERY DARK CHAPTER!
WARNING! WARNING! SEXUAL ASSAULT ETC OF A MINOR! WARNING! WARNING!
Do not go any further if this kind of thing bugs you. Now, it's not very graphic - but it's there. And you can ignore this chapter and just say 'bad things happen to little Loki' and that's all you need to know.
Otherwise, thanks to any who chatted with me or reviewed! Give me a shout! Let me know what you think! Concrit is totes acceptable! - KI
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 8
Survival
Many winters passed. Thirty winter snows and then some rolled over the hills of Utgard – and the city grew slowly, as slowly as the vaetki living in the cupboard at the Gothahus. The child had now grown a little more – only to become scrawnier and weaker looking than ever. An everlasting hunger yawned in its stomach, filling the empty halls with its growling. Mage Opna swore that it could call to the grarulfr and bring them down on it.
Curled up in its cupboard every night, the vaetki clutched its concave belly and prayed that the grarulfr would not come. But they came anyways. In its nightmares. Jaws slathering, fangs bared, howls reverberating through the ground and the thunderous rolling of a thousand paws and claws – and the jagged pain as they dragged it down and feasted on its trembling flesh. It woke – panting and shivering with fear and for several moments, it lay in the dark and trembled before turning and trying to find its sleep again.
But those nightmares were not so bad.
There were others. If it were taller, if it were not a living curse, it would ask Mage Opna what the visions meant.
The dreams of utter darkness and cold which pierced its bones. The eternal falling. The falling which knew no end. And it could not scream or call Elska's name. Elska would not hear its call. He would not come for such as the vaetki. But something else living in the gaps of the world would. It would.
And there were other dreams. Dreams about Elska dying and leaving it, because it wasn't worth living for.
That is not true... Elska's voice whispered into the night. The vaetki, comforted by the voices of the world, would nod to itself in the dark of the night and echo the words to itself.
Not true. Not true. Not true. Nottruenottruenottrue...
Visions and dreams and nightmares. Some of them based on memory, on beatings and cruel words repeating as if it were some dwarven-made mechanized puppet. And other mysterious things which left him feeling dirty and used – Mage Opna and his ungentle hands as they travelled over the welts on the vaetki's back.
"Nothing," said its master, "nothing..."
Mage Opna's voice was rough, like his Jotunn skin, and, like the stroking fingers, slithered around the vaetki's hunched body. The vaetki's hands slid protectively along the sides of its ribs – but protection was useless. And one night, when there was naught but its master in the Gothahus (the healers had departed for a trip to a neighbouring village in the Myrkr Skogr), the innocent vaetki was pulled up into the lap of his master and taught the intricate dance of pleasing his master in yet another way. It gained more bruises then, thanks to clumsiness brought on by fear and more bruises blossomed on its delicate skin when the vaetki flinched away from its master.
"I am patient, am I not?" asked Mage Opna.
The vaetki nodded softly, its hand trapped under the mage's large ones forced to linger on its master's rough skin underneath the rucked up decorated kirtle.
"Am I not?" the mage's right hand rose to trap the vaetki's chin and his lips descended, hard and bruising. Not gently on the forehead as Elska had done. Elska had always been gentle.
Trying to still its trembling, the vaetki followed the mage's instructions, keeping its hands where Mage Opna wanted until its master grunted with satisfaction. That night, it scrubbed its sticky hands with snow before curling up on its furs in the dark of its cupboard. If only, it had followed Elska to the place Elska had gone, it wished.
Even then, it did not cry.
[... and Heimsrsal wept...]
-0-0-0-
"THOR! THOR!" Frigga's voice was now rising in tone and temper as she walked down the palaces hallways looking for her golden-haired son who had somehow disappeared between his riding lesson and the next appointment for the day - history with Mage Alfreth who was patiently waiting on the Crown Prince in said Prince's royal quarters. "THOR! COME OUT THIS INSTANT!"
No reply. Several paces back, her maidservants were also aiding in the search, more gently calling "Prince Thor!", "Your Highness!" and such-like. The boy was nowhere to be seen. Three guards approached from a distance, looking red-faced and just a mite annoyed.
"No sign of him, Your Majesty," the first said. "I asked the Royal Cooks and he has not been sighted in the kitchens, my Queen."
"Neither has he been sighted in the gardens nor in the fields beyond, Your Ladyship."
"I spoke with the outer guard," the last one, finally arrived looking a little worried. "They told me, Your Highness, just now - not ten minutes past - the young Prince was seen walking out with two others. There might have been some mention concerning the mountain lake -"
"THOR!" roared Frigga, blue eyes flashing as she cut off the guard with a peremptory wave of her hand. "That boy! Ethelwyn," she breathed through her nose sharply for a few seconds before calling her maid. "Ethelwyn, have some tea and pastries sent to Mage Alfreth and let him know I shall join him in a short while - and that, for today, lessons are once again canceled. I must speak with Odin."
"Yes, your Highness," the young, brown-haired maid nodded and departed gracefully in the direction of the Royal Library and Archives, while Frigga, dismissing the guards with a courteous thanks and her maidservants, sought out her husband, who currently sat in his private study, pouring over a recent missive from Vanaheim.
When she burst in, Odin set aside the letter, rubbed his temple and eyed his wife, noticing how flushed her cheeks were and how bright her blue eyes shone. Not that now is the moment to mention such things, he sighed. It is only obvious what is on her mind at the moment...
"Again?" he finally said.
"Again."
Silence.
"Mage Alfreth will be most disappointed," Odin finally said. "Having to come into the palace only to end up drinking our tea and eating our pastries and wiling away the hour with his personal research -"
"That is not the point, Odin, and you know it! That boy is out of control. You must speak with him."
"I have -"
"Well, you need to do it again -"
"We know how this will end," Odin massaged the bridge of his nose. "I shall say something, he shall yell something, I end up punishing him, you end up crying... There is no change."
Frigga sat down slowly and stared at the pale blue shoes she wore, the rich carpet underneath her feet - and saw nothing but the bright, bursting bundle of energy her young son had become. By Midgardian standards, he would seem no more than eight years of their time - but time flowed differently on Asgard than on Midgard - and Thor's mind, as ever, craved for adventure and the mighty acts of brave warriors. Doing things. Not thinking things - not thinking things through as he should. This did not bode well for the realm of Asgard.
"I will talk to him," Odin finally said. "Perhaps a sharp lesson this time. Cleaning the stables?"
"Cleaning - cleaning the stables? He is so young -"
"He feels himself old enough to attempt to leave the city on his own," Odin said, "perhaps he is then old enough take on the responsibilities of his elders."
"Attempt?"
"Ah... that should be him now," Odin rose then, his hand squeezing his wife's shoulder in comfort as he called the guards in - the guards who stood behind a very sullen-looking Thor with two of his friends behind him (the ever artful Fandral and ever silent Hogun), both of whom had the sense to look a little frightened. Odin turned to look at his wife's astonished face, now relieved, now proud. He had done well. "I see all things, my son," he turned back to his young son and noticed how Thor glared back, "and I believe that your current schedule demands your time be spent in study and not in play. Come now, say farewell to Fandral and Hogun. You may see them later tonight - given that all..." A beat. "ALL of your studies are completed."
"But Father -"
"Thor..." Frigga's blue eyes gazed at her son's with disappointment.
"Furthermore, because you disobeyed your mother's express command to attend your lessons and be on time, you and your friends will be also be able to enjoy each other's company tomorrow night as well - in the stables - mucking them out. Do you understand me?"
Silence. Thor nodded and something like a 'yes' was heard among a lot of mumbling.
"What was that?" Odin asked again.
"Yes. Father," Thor said stiffly.
"Thank you," replied the old king smoothly. "Now, I have a boring letter to read, you have an exciting history book to study and I believe the guards will make certain Fandral and Hogun will be returned to whatever tutor whom they have no doubt inconvenienced as well."
"I will escort Thor to the library," Frigga rose then.
"A grand idea," Odin twinkled down at his young son. "Have a wonderful time learning, Thor. You don't know it - but I'm sure there are many others who would wish to have the opportunity you do to learn so many things. With your station in life, there are many responsibilities you must shoulder - but also, there are many privileges. Do not forget it."
"Yes, Father," sighed Thor - and he was led off to the library.
Along the way, he boasted to his mother about what the stablemaster had said about his riding skills and what he had hoped to find in the mountain lake (apparently there was some legendary fish to be caught). Frigga praised him and hugged him and laughed at the story of the evasive fish which Thor would catch and bring to her. She promised to eat it when he caught it, and with that, she left him to the tender mercies of Mage Alfreth. Shaking her head, Frigga continued onward to her weaving room. He has got a long journey ahead of him, she sighed, as she sat down to her weaving. A thought crossed her mind and for a moment a thread snagged as it tangled on the weft. Made the longer for being alone.
-0-0-0-
"Where is the cursed vaetki gone?" growled Ketill with annoyance. "I wished to enjoy a snow scrub this evening."
"Ahhh, Ketill," Lind's higher voice rose with a chuckle of laughter. "Did you not remember that our great Mage Opna had need of him tonight?"
They laughed long at the unspoken jest for a few moments before Ketill shifted and eyed his friend and partner in distress (what they called each other after their stationing at Utgard).
"No, but I jest not, Lind. I did want a back scrub this evening –"
"I was making no joke, cousin," replied the younger Jotun still laughing a little. "Mage Opna sent the little thing off to the East Gate, poor fool. A fool's errand which will take at least a full cycle for it to complete."
"Lazy illegitimate get of a whore," cursed Ketill casually. "Why did Mage Opna not go himself – the vaetki's legs are far too small for such a journey."
"And yet, our genius patron has - and has cursed himself to a dull evening."
More laughter, this time at their employer's expense. There was nothing then – just the sound of the small fire lit in the corner of the room, hiss of the broth seeping over the edges of the cauldron thanks to a roiling broil and the cracking of Lind's imported nuts which he crushed easily with his hands. The older Jotun, Ketill, scratched his chest absently and considered the problem at hand.
"So then I shall smell like this one sun cycle longer," he finally said.
"That or you may attempt such a gargantuan task by yourself –"
"But you know how I cannot reach that one part of my back which –"
"Or you may ask me to aid you," Lind snorted. "You know I give a better back rub than some abominable runt. I swear those puny things it calls fingers have less force than the wisp of an Alfheim's fairy-bird wing."
"It is young –"
"Youth has nothing to do with it. I considered it – by Elska's accounting it should be shedding its head fur at the very least. In a few years, budding horns. Do you see anything like that happening?"
"Not yet," Ketill grunted. "But due to its size, it may be a late bloomer."
"Hahaha..."
They laughed together again, rough voices rumbling like stones, chuckling over the inanity – the impossibility of the vaetki gaining horns much the less honours befitting a Jotunn adult.
"Can you imagine it – entering heat or taking part in holmganga – or – or –" Here, Lind tried to force the words out, "kostrbotha?"
"You slay me, Lind!" choked out Ketill. "S-s-s-st-st-stop it!"
"Kostrbotha, now that is rare, I admit – when was the last time you saw two Jotunn fight over another's hand?"
"Hm. It is not common – but every Jotunn is ready for it... even if the vaetki were to be allowed the honour of being treated equal to the opportunity – it – it – it –" Ketill was now doubled over with laughter. "I could step on it with my foot!" He managed to get out.
"Even if it did grow a bit taller –"
"It would be laughed out of the arena –"
"Or slain in an instant –"
"Not that it could bed any of us –" Lind added, wiping away frozen tears of laughter and sitting back upright.
"Although Master Magna is willing to try," chortled Ketill.
The two of them shook their head over the perversion of their master. No good would come of it, they knew. Why the vaetki had not been drowned was beyond them. Drowned. Or smothered. Or had its scrawny neck snapped or wrung. There many ways to go about it. Stoning was cheapest and most entertaining – but it drew a large crowd and the last thing the Gothahus of Utgard needed was a scandal spreading through Jotunheim about the breeding of a vaetki within its walls. At the very least, the pathetic creature should have been driven out into the wastelands and left to die.
Let Jotunheim take care of its own tragedies.
[... they vaguely remembered that the land tends to its own people...]
[... Jotunheim is a cruel mother, but a mother all the same...]
On the other hand, it was rather easy to understand why Mage Opna had allowed the vaetki to breath Jotunheim's clean air. The creature seemed biddable and partially intelligent if incredibly mute. Its patient misery was pleasing and knowing that the less palatable chores could be capably taken care of by it was something they enjoyed. So they said nothing and, with sly humour, watched as Mage Opna watched the pitiful thing scuttled about doing its daily work.
[... and the cycles passed...]
-0-0-0-
The best times of the year for the vaetki were the winter months when no one but the foolish Thyrstr remained as the two healers disappeared north to Dagaheim to visit their clans and Mage Opna went to the King's Court in Gastropnir in order to make his report on the minimal growth of Utgard. It would be many years before the King's Seat would be ready for his return.
While the Mage and Healers were gone, Thyrstr spent most of his days out on the icy lakes to the south, particularly Vollrvatn Lake, where the hafnathr swarmed beneath thick layers of ice. Such a hunting expedition might last a good two weeks, which allowed a comfortable silence to once again permeate the neighbourhood – as it had been before the mage's arrival and Elska's passing.
Left to its own devices, the vaetki scrounged for food and found odd jobs lighting smelling sticks for those who came to meditate or sweeping floors or running errands. Food left for the For-Eldra was now consumed by him alone, thanks to the absence of the still-growing Thyrstr and boar-like Mage Opna. Besides the usual tasks of clearing snow, washing floors and walls and preparing the meditation rooms and High and Under Altars, the vaetki also tended to Lind's garden of tunglbloms, blakkrgras, hvaeta and ventrmellin which grew easily in the uncertain climate of Utgard.
When it returned in the evening, back aching, legs hurting (but in a good way) and hands red and slightly bleeding with open sores from the harsh blakkrgras it often had to untangle or weed, the vaetki felt content. The evenings were spent in solitude. Lonely sometimes, but loneliness was preferable to the pain of Thyrstr's cane, the healer's slaps or the uncomfortable touches of Mage Opna.
No, the evenings were free – and the vaetki could crouch by the fire for as long as it wished, studying the tomes from the library, the lock of which it had learned quite early how to pick, memorizing each of the texts as well as it could before replacing them gently.
Each scroll and each book were treated with the care befitting a Royal Archive – no prints or smudges left as clues. Every line, every swirl, every letter, every picture was studied and the most important spells were copied faithfully onto smaller scrolls and cheaper leather journals. Ideas and theories alike crammed into every available space on the rare vellum it could pilfer.
These long nights were what it waited for each year – and each winter, the vaetki grew in knowledge and magical power.
[... Hiemsrsal smiled...]
There you go. Thor behaving like an idiot - doubly so since Loki isn't there... and I hope it really juxtaposes well with Loki's life. A harsh contrast of what lives they live.
Next up... is... more sadness. Sorry.
No. Not really.
p.s. You may be wondering on Loki's name. Loki goes through a bunch of phases. He was known as the runt, then lagreinn (small one) by Elska, vaetki (by Mage Opna) and then there'll be... hmmm... ulfrbarn, dZh-Aleiko and Kol'la before he gets his real name. From whom? Well... from the person who gave him the name of Loki in Thor (as far as I can tell) - AKA Odin. DUN DUN DUN! (Yes, Odin will play a large part in this Loki's life). Hope that clarifies things. :P
For those of you who are still unsure about this whole Jotunheim world and stuff, check out the map I drew up, which is available in Chapter 5.
Glossary:
vaetki- nothing
Grarulfr – grey wolf
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains
hafnathr – sea serpents
For-Eldra – Ancestors
hvaeta – wheat
blakkrgras – black grass
tunglbom – moon blossoms
ventrmellin – winter melon
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage