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.
Just survived a visa-related medical exam. UGH. This 31-year-old virgin does not appreciate having to do ECGs which involve baring herself before her coworker. GAH. If I could erase the past 3 hours, that'd be great. Just great.
So here we go - the unexpected wolf chapter. Uh. A sorta doggie pile happens? Sorta? I hope you like anyways! My thoughts on the matter are as follows: http: SLASH SLAHS kakashidiot DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 52225426011 SLASH distortions-in-time-chapter-16
THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS AND PEOPLE WHO FAV'D AND ALERTED MY STORIES! To: endlessvamp (you'll see~), Double-Gemini (2 more names to go!), DragonsFlame117 (here's to hoping that this fic will only improve!), wbss21 (you're teh awesome!), alchino (foresee BAMF!Loki up ahead!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (totes right - Loki's time to shine!), Thay-Logyn (welcome!) and princessofd (thank you!).
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 16
Wild Days
A broad, white plain of snow unmarked save by soft ridges formed by the ever capricious wind. No Jotunn had traversed this place for a long, long time. These were the long-forgotten paths, the white, frosty wastelands of the Utanheim. Of Jotunheim's Outer Realm, populated by no civilized kind except that of beasts and all wild things that are.
[… here…]
[… silences hold fast…]
[… but not entirely so…]
The wind whistles and howls as it rushes past unhindered and then it comes to a flat, blue-black sheet which spreads as far as the eye can see. White snow and blue-black ice meet a fair sky this morning – and the cold suns' pale light glow lightly on the fields of tunglblom and ovarmorn blossoms which grow along the edges of the Great Ice Shelf, the Svelshelf of the Utanheim.
[… the skies are empty…]
[… on Jotunheim…]
Look closer.
[… what is that call carried on the voice of the wind?]
Standing on the edge of the desert-like ice shelf, feet planted firmly, dwarfed on either side by two thurblakulfr, the ulfrbarn braced himself into the wind. Black hair whipped forward like a tattered flag and bright, red eyes stared out over the short expanse of ice before him. Behind lay the Svelshelf – a vast plain of frozen cold beneath one's feet – rising to meet the blue horizon and the great cold suns edging up over the world as it seemed.
And before him… a few steps forward and his toes hung slightly over the edge of the Svelshelf and the rocks below it which hung downward. Downward. The ulfrbarn felt it – the pull – the nothingness calling – the Void –
This was the edge of his world.
"Not really," he answered himself, his unspoken thoughts, softly. Words whipped away with the wind into the Void never to return. "You know already, Storr-Fathir, do you not?" He asked the Pack-Father of the great thurblakulfr clan. "All the edges of this Realm have felt the weight of your paws."
… we roam far indeed…
… little one…
… our ancestors before and our descendants after us…
Hot breath accompanied by a short growl fanned over his neck in warning as the wild Jotunn runt craned his head and leaned over to look further down. Nothing met the eye. Nothing. Nothing but expanses of a blackness lit with stars and faint light and gaseous clouds.
The Void was nothing. It was empty. And yet… And yet, he knew (here, he shivered), it is not. It is always hungry. He remembered Elska's warnings and Mage Opna's curses. The Eybjarga is always hungry.
Edging back carefully, the ulfrbarn moved away, one step at a time. He was no one's fool.
He did not turn his back.
-0-0-0-
North of the Svalshelf, if the ancient maps in Utgard's Gothahus which the ulfrbarn had memorized so long ago were to be believed, a massive lake lay complete with an unreachable island toward one end of it. Sure enough after several short sun cycles, the pack arrived on the shores of Vithrivatn Lake. Around its edges, clumps of trees and bushes grew together as well as broad swaths of blakkgras. There, on the west side of the expansive lake, the ulfrbarn cast a line for fish.
It was Hluti's old fishing stick which he had left behind with an old pack made of coarse sacking. Inside, the ulfrbarn had packed what the Hunter-Trader had left for him – a rather worn tinder box cracked at one end, an ironwood bowl and ladle-spoon blackened with fire heat, seven lumps of blakcol, two rough pieces of fabric which could be swathed about his middle, a ball of rough twine, a neat, round, grey whet stone and a small pocket-knife. The small-pocket knife was his own – fashioned from a bit of left-over jarnvithr stacked in Hluti's hut and sharpened on the whet stone. Everything was packed inside the course pack and then bound with its various straps about his chest digging into pale skin and boney shoulders.
The broad wolf-fur cloak was all that rounded out the ulfrbarn's possessions. He did not mind.
It was better to travel light with the Great Pack, adding little weight to the back of the thurblakulfr he rode upon with pale blue hands clenching in dark, thick fur.
[…was borne away to the north…]
[… to the Utanheim…]
No words broke the silence – no tongue of the Jotunn breached the afternoon air in this desolate place. There was only the occasional yip-yap of the four young pups now nursing with their mothers, the everlasting breeze which whipped off the large lake briskly, the lap-lap of the slowly increasing waves alongside the far beach and the plop of his bait as the bit of eel sunk below black waters.
Only a few minutes passed before the young boy felt a familiar tug on his line. With a practised flick of his wrist, the twin jerked and the rod flipped upward – a silver-backed flatnfiskr flopped wildly, caught on the vicious hook Hluti had bent and sharpened out of jarnvithr. A wicked barbed thing which did its job nicely.
The ulfrbarn caught his eighth fish when the rest of the wolf pack returned from their respective hunts, bearing two long-legged snardaera and several snaerharra triumphantly. Others joined them from their hunts, each bringing some hard earned sustenance for their families. Such is the way of things in the Utanheim.
Storr-Mothir – that was the impression of her name which he had lifted from her bright mind – large with child, sat close to the ulfrbarn. Her intelligent, golden eyes watched as his fingers turned the fish this way and that, while his other hand moved up and down rhythmically, removing the scales with the small pocket-knife which he had strapped to his thigh.
Unlike Hluti's short-knife, this small, wicked thing could fit the palm of his hand easily. Flick, flick, flick, flt-flick. Silver scales flew right and left – and then the sharp blade slipped along the edges of the fish's body and inwards, breaking through white bone and pale-red flesh.
Guts were tossed aside and scooped up and wolfed down by Starf and Thiofir (so named by the Ulfrbarn for their mischief and thievery). Storr-Mothir hovered over the uflrbarn protectively, her commanding eyes flashing warnings at any of the other wolves who skulked about and watched the scrawny creature lay out its catch on the white snow.
The other fish were likewise treated – scales and innards removed, the flesh cut neatly into strips and a few were frozen by the ulfrbarn's magic, wrapped in one square of cloth before being stowed away in a separate pocket in the sack which hung from the bottom. An ungainly way of managing his things, but it would do.
Looking innocent, the ulfrbarn snuck a fish to Storr-Mothir who sniffed it carefully before devouring it with one bite. He ate two fish himself. Looking up to the dull, grey sky, the ulfrbarn sniffed the air tentatively and eyed the increasingly high waves which now rolled up to the steep embankment upon which he had stationed himself. Spray rose in the air and white caps were forming further out. The ulfrbarn glanced at the slowly approaching Storr-Fathir who bore the hindquarters of a snardaera in his great mouth.
A storm was coming.
When the Storr-Fathir tossed down the meat before his mate, the ulfrbarn backed away, allowing the two to nuzzle each other and share the evening meal in peace. No sooner had he turned about when two pups, barking madly with high-pitched yelps, dashed over the snow toward him. They leapt up into the air in a vain attempt to bowl him over and worry at his nose and ears as was their habit in the more recent days. One of them was attempting to climb into his arms and the other one had fastened small fangs onto the ulfrbarn's ankles. The ulfrbarn growled back and shook the two pups off.
"Aiya!" The ulfrbarn cried, finally sinking to his knees to tussle with the two little ones carefully. "Did you not eat your fill this evening?" He shook his head. "Ah-ah! What monsters you must be, ha! And with bellies the size of the Eybjarga itself!" The ulfrbarn rocked a little as a bit heavier weight suddenly appeared on his back. "Oho! Feitr has decided to join us. Perhaps a bit of exercise to lose weight. Ahhh!" He twisted about then to smack the fat pup's head, for it had sunk its teeth into his ear. "Not the ears again!"
[… silence breaks…]
When the storm hit, the pack had hunkered down ready for it toward the west side of the lake among the clumps of trees which offered some protection against the blizzard. In pairs or groups, the thurblakulfr huddled – and partially carved out of the deep snow which already lay on the never-seen soil and rock of the Utanheim, the ulfrbarn huddled by the warmth of the Pack-Mother and Father. He had placed his pack in the hollow and he sat within it as well, Storr-Mothir slightly overhead, her fur hanging in and he pressed up against her as the wind and snow blew about. Storr-Fathir returned and settled by her head, curved about protectively against the main blast of the wind. And so, uneasily, they fell asleep.
[… silence breaks…]
[… on Jotunheim…]
There is white again. A broad expanse of white. Unmarked. Untouched. Once again. The snaervethr passed by and left a quiet world and the suns rose over a new flat desert of snow, freshly hardened by ice. And then – a sharp crack and barking cries and howls broke the air. Dark figures struggled upward – once formless humps broke free and snuffled the free air. Virgin snow now harrowed up as the thurblakulfr pack awoke. Shaking their fur and darting about to ensure everyone was rising, vibrant howls filled the cold, crisp air.
The first thing he heard, as if from far away, was the sound of a wolf's call. Fear stiffened his limbs – and then relaxed as he remembered. They were his family. His family now. The Great Thurblakulfr Pack of the Utanheim. And he felt so warm. So warm. He grumbled at the noise and turned his head away as a pale light beat on his eyelids.
Then heat. Unwelcome, yet welcome as it descended on his face – soft and wet, running from his chin up to his forehead. Grunting he turned and scrabbled muzzily in the comforting snow. More tongues now. Smaller ones joined the larger one. A few were running up along the sides of his ribs. The still-sleepy uflrbarn snorted a little as he rolled over onto his stomach – and his hand nestled up against a wriggling bundle of fur which was now tickling his ear with a quivering warm-wet nose. Ugh.
A large tongue then ran down his ribs and his groggy snort transformed into something foreign working up out of his throat. Opna. Thyrstr. They had made the sounds often. Sometimes they were nice – other times, there had been a biting edge. Hluti and Elska. Elska. The ulfrbarn did not remember the name for it – it eluded him, but still it remained with him as the tickling increased along his sensitive ribs.
[… there is laughter…]
"Aiyaaaa…" The ulfrbarn choked out between snorting and his high-pitched… whatever it was. "Sto-stop-stop. I am up now. I promise. See. I'm getting up."
He did indeed try to rise and only got as far as his knees before one of the pups decided it was time to attempt to climb the ulfrbarn's back again.
"Feitr!"
With that sharp reprimand, Feitr darted off whining sadly and the ulfrbarn finally managed to find breath and rise. That morning, he ate a piece of frozen fish and a light tea made of the bitter blakkgras slightly sweetened by the rare ovarmorn flower. After breaking his fast, a small group of the younger wolves gained permission from Storr-Father to take him northward to the far edges of the Eybjarga. Sending him off, the Storr-Father's muzzle nudged the most recent addition to the Great Pack.
... be safe, little one...
I will, the ulfrbarn promised and buried his head for a moment in the long fur of Storr-Father's neck before turning and then climbing up onto the high back of the young thurblakulfr – with the helpful nudging of Storr-Mothir who had appeared to have adopted the strange, short blue creature. Then they were off.
It was a glorious place – the place of a Thousand Falling Waters, the Eybjarg Rivers and Hratath. Standing on the sharp, black rocks, the ulfrbarn spread his arms and faced the Void once again, this time on the Outer Rim of the Utanheim.
Cold and slick beneath his feet, the rock chilled his bones – but nothing was as awesome as the sight before. Inspiring, terrifying and profound. The sight of beyond a billion suns, he knew, burning through the Void. And he could hear them: voices calling to voices, spirits to spirits and before his eyes another world of colour opened as a scroll. It was the power of the Realms, the strength of the Heimsrsal chiming in unison. Birthing, growing, fading, and dying in an endless cycle of magic and life. He could feel it. In his very bones, bursting outward. The ulfrbarn tried to keep it in –
He closed his eyes and listened to the roar of the water as it fell endlessly over into the great blackness. This is the magic of Jotunheim, of the Nine Realms, of the cosmos itself – that it can give and give and yet never be taken.
As he stood there at the edge of the world, he remembered Elska suddenly. Elska and Hluti. What had they said?
You will make Haffa and Smarmurtr and I very proud – wherever we are.
We may never meet again, ulfrbarn – but perhaps, one day, we will meet again... in the company of the For-Eldra.
Something came to him – unbidden then, the memory of a melody which Elska had hummed to him before he fell asleep each night. A wordless tune he had sung for Smarmurtr, Elska had admitted. A melody of love – and slowly, yet certainly words formed for each note within his mind and on his lips.
Haltingly at first and then gaining in confidence –
Laugh into the blackness
And sing,
For this is the day we pass onward
And join our hands.
Close your eyes, little one,
And rest.
We are always here, little one,
Sleep.
It had a name as well, and he would teach it, he thought, to any who would listen. The Lullaby of Elska. The ulfrbarn gave it to the Void, thin and wild yet beautiful, for it was his.
It was his.
[… there is laughter…]
[… there is singing…]
[… on Jotunheim…]
There you go! The wolf-ulfrbarn chapter. After this... plot starts to move along-ISH. Some set up before we go downhill again. HAHAHAHA!
DID YOU THINK THE LOKI WHUMPAGE WAS OVER FRIENDS!
IT IS NEVAH OVAH! (gets on podium and starts stirring up fandom)
Ahem. Yes. Ignore that crazy writer person over there. 2 more names for Loki before Loki is named Loki! Ha!
Glossary:
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place
Atfirth – energies
blakcol – coal pieces
blakkrbjorr – black beer
Blakkrbjorn – black bear
blakkrgras – black grass
blargras – blue grass
Dagaheim
dvegr – dwarf
dyrspeki – zoologist
Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)
Eybjarg Hratath – Thousand Falling Waters, the Rivers to the Void
fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection
Flara River – Treacherous River
Flatnfiskr – flat fish
For-Eldra – Ancestors
Forn Vegr – Old Ways
Gastropnir
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)
Gothahus – temple
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains
grarulfr – grey wolves
Griotunagardar
hafnathr – sea serpents
heillgrjot – healing stones
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm
Holdra River – Hero's River
holkimurtr – small flat fish
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements
hota-eik – white oak
hvaeta – wheat
Innaheim – Inner Realm
jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)
jarnvithr – iron wood
Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage
lagreinn – small one (epithet)
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War
manisilfr – moonsilver
melrakki – white fox
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest
Nattura – spirits
Northri Stjarna – North Star
ovarmorn – pale yellow flower, very sweet
silvralmr – silver elm
silvrfiskr – silver fish
Sithr Efingi – True Heir
Skalldi
skordyr – Jotunheim goat
snaerharra – snow rabbit
snaervethr - snowstorm
Snardaera – snow-elk or deer
Storr-Fathir – Great-Father/Pack-Father
Storrholl – Great Hall
Storr-Mothir - Great-Mother/Pack-Mother
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves
tunglbom (moonflower)
Utanheim – Outer Realm
Utgard
vaetki – nothing
ventrmellin – winter melon
villrkyr – wild ox
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains