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.
So... have spent an entire evening and morning tumbling Tom Hiddleston... and his Cannes appearance. And heard about the rumoured fan who jumped him. (sigh) I hope it's just a trolling thing - but I have a feeling it happened. You know... keep it up and he'll end up as a cynical actor just like the rest. This is so sad and disappointing. I'm gonna need some time tumbling long-haired Loki to cheer up.
Does anyone else feel the urge to apologize to Tom Hiddleston even though they didn't do it?
No no no don't think about sadness like this...
Long haired Loki. Think about that. Yes.
Anyways... Thanks to everyone who is hanging in there! Thanks to my lovely reviewers! Wbss21, princessofd, Immortal Sailor Cosmos... and all who fav'd or alerted me...
I hope this chappie is as nice as I promised!
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 11
Peace and Desperation
[... do not disrespect Heimsrsal...]
[... for she will find you...]
In the shadows, the vaetki was crouching, trying to figure out a way to steal the tempting hvaeta loaf on the table just newly made by the ever industrious Illska, when the sturdy jarnvithr door banged open revealing the familiar slight figure of Shavi, the master weaver's son. His dark face was alight with excitement and for a moment, he could not do anything but stand there and pant – until he managed to force the words out:
"Illska! You would not believe!"
"What is it now, Shiva?"
"It's fat Mage Opna – running like the best King's courier! And you'd not believe – a pack of great black wolves at his back! You much come and see!"
"Ta! Shiva! Who put you up to this nonsense? If you must tell lies, at least give me a good one!"
"No, no!" Shavi's eyes were wide. "Father sent me – he said it was worth a good laugh if nothing else."
"Thurblakulfr are nothing to laugh at, idiot," Illska rose and made his way quickly down the main street. "Why are none going to his aid?"
"It is a large pack!" huffed Shavi. "The like of which we have never seen!"
Together they started down the main North-South street which was now beginning to crowd with excited Jotunn.
"Did you hear, Illska?" another Jotun showed up at the two runners' elbows. It was Lind. "Seems like idiot Opna has the hounds of Helheim at his heels."
"The Mage is your master... Have you no care?" frowned Illska as the three of them burst into the now crowded courtyard and equally crowded ramparts of the wall. Lind snorted and moved off – keeping far away from the as yet open North Gate. "Ah! They have not closed the door at least."
"False hope," boomed another – a farmer from the north. "He will not make the gates in time. Fools. I warned Thyrstr but he said he could take care of himself."
"Now that is true enough," Lind said. "Master Mage Opna, however..." He shrugged. "Come, I wish to see this spectacle for myself."
The more conservative Illska shook his head in mild disgust at Lind's casual attitude toward the fate of the Mage of Utgard's Gothahus. In Dagaheim this kind of behaviour would not be tolerated... However, he followed the healer and pressed close to the outer ramparts to gaze over the snow. Gazing over the small white clearing before the gate and beyond to the hills of the north, Illska winced at the sight of the large pack and the steadily slowing Mage Opna.
This is not looking good. He glanced to the Jotuns on either side of him. No one is foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the city. He sighed. Utgard is a wreck – its walls, its homes and its people... such desolation of the soul...
-0-0-0-
At Shiva's news, the vaetki spared no thought to summon his magic and transport himself to a hidden crevice on the tall tower roof situated on the north side of Utgard's grand wall. Sharp red eyes instantly locked on Mage Opna's dark figure in the distance. A black wavering shadow of a paunchy figure slipping and sliding over the white expanse of ice and crevices. Elska had forbidden the vaetki from traversing those snowy fields and hills for a reason - it was a treacherous land to the immediate north, west and south-west. The Eybjarg was hungry.
His small feet shuffled nervously at the obvious fate of his master - rudimentary calculation and commonsense dictated the inevitable. Wrapping his thin arms around his knees, the vaetki considered the matter.
I could transport myself there, grab Master Opna and bring him back... I could distract the wolves with a copy of myself. I have enough power for that as well. I could save him...
Or you could watch him die. Slowly, a darker side muttered.
He shivered. He did not want that... Did he?
-0-0-0-
Opna could feel the hot breath fanning over his bared, broad back – his cloak had long since been cast off for increased mobility. Underneath, shards of ice thrust upward as he pounded across the hard fields. Every now and then, he lost the advantage to slippage and the hidden crevices which threatened to trip him up or swallow his feet. The mage kept running - eyes trained on the as yet open black gate. There were figures on the high ramparts and the sound of yelling echoed over the wasteland.
A howl sounded in his ear and somehow the Mage found another burst of energy to speed up. He was so close. Surely, he would make it. So close.
-0-0-0-
Shutting his eyes, envisioning his master, the vaetki reached inward for his magic and then paused as a familiar warm presence pressed close, embracing him. For a moment, the cold world fell away and there was only a gentle kind of warmth and a peaceful silence as all sound faded away. Elska? He whispered, hesitating.
Let him go, beloved mine...
He is ours.
At the sound of a triumphant howl, the vaetki's eyes flew open – and with wide, disbelieving eyes, he watched as massive claws and fangs rose – as lithe, giant fur legs leaped and bore down – as his Master's bellow echoed across the plain – as the cry of the Jotuns rose up unheeded by the ravenous pack – as his Master's cries finally tapered off – as the greatest wolf howled and the vaetki heard the call – and understood.
This one, this despoiler –
He is ours.
The vaetki's darker blue lips opened a little and sharp teeth flashed in the night. A long-forgotten smiled crossed his face swiftly. Before him, the snow stained a blue-black and fat flesh now ripped hastily from the bone.
He is ours.
[... and there will be no escape.]
-0-0-0-
From that time onward, the vaetki was shunned even more, now a creature of bad luck. Elska had nurtured it and his heart had failed. Master Opna had taken it into its home and he had been consumed by wolves. And worse, the great black wolves showed no signs of leaving, contented to prowl through the wastelands of the northern hills and the Myrkr Skogr, preying on the smaller grey wolves, wild boar and Jotun who fell into the wolves' path. Curses upon curses.
Superstition drove the inhabitants – balancing their desire and need for the vaetki's blood with the fear of its cursed touch. Almost a single great cycle of the sun passed. A half year of splendid isolation as the Jotunn runt went about its duties, largely ignored by his remaining three masters. Without Mage Opna, the little thing grew wild and fond of tricks – and its appetite, as it increased, drove it to thievery.
In the end, it was Ketill who travelled with a trader's caravan to Gastropnir to lay Utgard's case before the King. He would tell the tale of Mage Opna's fall and reveal the secret which festered at its core: the existence of a wild vaetki in Utgard.
Laufey-King would know what to do with it, surely.
With that, Ketill set out, bidding farewell to Lind and Thyrstr, glowering at the vaetki who stood in the shadows watching with its beady red eyes. What a monster, he shuddered. Soon, Ketill, the insect will be exterminated. Soon.
Two months later, splendid news came from the West road – three farmers had left their work to run ahead of a slow-moving procession. A procession, they said, fit for a king. Larger than a caravan, complete with large Jotunn servant-pulled carts and the Imperial flags!
"Is it the King?" asked Elder Orn, as he left his house for the West gate.
"We can not tell, for they did not stop to pass the time of day," replied the one farmer. "But there must be one of the Royal Family, surely..."
"Hm. We can but hope," replied the Elder. "Go to the Gothahus and tell Healer Lind the news. He must be prepared to bring the vaetki to the Royal House as soon as may be."
With that, the Elder moved slowly up the street to gather up the City Council while the farmer ran to tell the Healer Lind the great news. Royalty had come to Utgard at last. Days of bright starlight were ahead!
DOES HAPPY DANCE OF JOY! I have never felt so satisfied killing a character off as I did Mage Opna. I hope it was satisfactory for you as well. Pedophiles... well... let's just say... they deserve a lot of pain, if not pain of death.
But, um, someone from the Royal family is coming. Oh noes!
Update on Wednesday or Tuesday or something...
Glossary:
hvaeta – wheat
jarnvithr – ironwood
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves
Gothahus – temple