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... MANY MANY MANY THANKS TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEW! TO ALL THOSE WHO READ AND FAV AND ALERT! I appreciate you guys!
To wbss21 (thanks so much! again!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (explanations below!), neko (thank you! I hope it continues to be nice!), alchino (yay! bonding! yes~!), DragonsFlame117 (wowsers! fluff cavities! *hands over toothpaste*). LOLZ. You guys are awesome.
Also, in response to a question - ulfrbarn means 'wolf child'! Sorry! It has been added to the list!
And... as for the upcoming chapters - prepare for lift off! Kyehehehe. Although, this chapter may seem really dull since it's more of a bridging chapter. Eh.
Also got over a minor hump re a fighting scene involving Thor and Loki. . Fighting scenes can be difficult and I have a feeling I'm gonna tweak it to death... v.v But anyways! Fun fun fun times ahead!
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 17
Distant Rumble
[... in the distant reaches of Utanheim, a child's cry...]
[... you can hear it on the wind...]
[... if you listen...]
The long cycles of Jotunn years passed onward, ticking slowly as does the Asgardian clock, while mortal-kind on Midgard slowly grew to awareness of the heavens. As they raised their eyes and built monuments to the stars, another watched the changes of the cosmos – and learned. It was not a commonsense kind of wisdom, or a matter of learning book knowledge, nor was it a world weary learning of the world's doings, but rather an ancient understanding of the true manner of things – what Hluti's mind had broken against and what the Heimsrsal teaches to all, should all be willing to listen.
Young eyes grew wiser with each passing season but growth was slow, as the short limbs lengthened, leanly muscled and fragile compared to its peers, yet strong in their own way. Feet became clumsy as the growing runt learned anew how to coordinate his movements. Fingers lengthened and tapered, long black hair flew back in the wind barely combed and his face, never fat to begin with it, gained a slight aristocratic air as cheekbones finally began to set, preparing for the next stage of his life. And when he passed a small cavalcade of Dark Elves traders travelling to Snjarhamr from their favoured arrival point in the Offaerdalr, heads turned at the sight of the small, blue-skinned Jotunn with a full head of black hair and beautifully vicious, red eyes and the air of a wild thing. An untamed thing. The spirit of Jotunheim personified.
"Feral, that thing is," those of Snjarhamr mumbled among themselves, when farmers from the north dales came south to trade and share gossip. "Someone failed their duty. Poor thing."
"Mindless like a beast, it is."
"Stay away from it," they told their more curious younglings. "It will spirit you off, eat your flesh and gnaw your bones."
Such are the roles of the ancient Elders – spreading common knowledge in those communities which had tales originating from the Dawn of Time itself. The story of the ulfrbarn became one such tale.
-0-0-0-
If the ulfrbarn heard what the others said, he made no mention of it. At times, he approached various farmers and miners in the north with saplings, small woven, blakkgras baskets of fish or furs. Some ignored him. Others, desperate Jotunn who cared not who brought sustenance on the desolate sides of the Offaerfjall, accepted and paid in cloth, leather pieces, small blades, potions or what small things they had about their equally bare homes. Hunting the ulfrbarn was ill-advised – no Jotun wanted the herd of thurblakulfr to come knocking.
And thus, for three hundred years, there was an uneasy truce between the villages and the wild things of the north. And that cursed creature which the Jotunn did not speak of.
-0-0-0-
A hundred and eighty-two years after the disappearance of Utgard's Curse, Laufey, who had since then visited Utgard once to oversee Helblindi's progress (with a proud and very pleased heart), now directed his realm from the central seat of Gastropnir – and it was there that he first heard news of a Jotunn dvegr who rode with the giant black wolves of the Utanheim.
Boisterous laughter filled the court as Hylli told his tale – something he had heard from his mate who had heard it from the local tunglblom seller who had heard it from some lack-witted trader from Vatnboer. Everyone knows that any Jotunn living beyond Thrymheim is a ice-rock of superstitious belief – more solid than a glaciar and just as thick and slow-moving. Laufey cracked a smile at the idea of a Jotunn dvegr racing with a pack of thurblakulfr.
"Although, one can see why," Bitra, another fun-loving Jotunn chortled, "it's size and all – 'twould barely be a mouthful for those beasts."
More laughter.
"That is not all, however," Hylli was struggling now to keep a straight face. His red eyes widened with theatrical seriousness. "For there is more to the tale. Not only is the parentage of the cursed thing a mystery – but green fire erupts from its hands and it can change the hue of its skin – for it..." Pause. "... carries the gift of – of MAGIC!"
Even more laughter ensued – the sound of it rumbling through the hall and out the narrowed winds – low and powerful as thunder claps before the lightning strike. Cups or fists were slammed repeatedly on the table, backs were slapped, heads thrown back and someone was begging Hylli to sit down before he slew them all with his increasingly improbable tale.
"Gossip out of the Offaerdalr has gotten worse by the minute," Jafnathr shook his head. "Those fools will believe anything up there."
"That is what happens when you look too long at the snow's brilliance," another said.
"Well," Bitr had to point out, "what else do they have to look at?"
Another round of merriment – but this time, Laufey did not smile.
Had Helblindi been there, he would have recognized the small line which formed between his royal father's two brows. A sign of thoughtfulness. But when Laufey wrote Farbauti, who was visiting Helblindi during that season, his missive bore no mention of the rumours which were growing of a Jotunn youngling dvegr who roamed the hills of Snjarhamr and the Wastes beyond.
The dangers of Jotunheim were growing.
-0-0-0-
[... yes, the danger...]
[... it grows...]
Beyond the obsidian cliffs of Offaerfjall Mountains, so called because of their almost impassable nature, beyond the skeletal mining crews pressed against the rocky edges and the farms below who harvest the delicate heithrsker blossoms which grow only in the desolate climate of the north-eastern mountains – beyond all, lies the Offaer Skogr – a dark, dense woods whose roots are covered with the treasures of heithrsker and luthrblom. Untouched thanks to the fast hold which the thurblakulfr and jarnkottr have on the region. Within these woods, the ulfrbarn had clumsily erected four slats of jarnvithr across the branches of a wide hota-eik and three walls, thus far had been raised in protection against the wind. It was poorly made - but it was home.
This particular white oak was stunted, and its branches drifted close enough to the ground for the small runtling to grab onto in order to climb up into the relative safety of the tree's boughs. Within the three walls, sat a drift of snow and a few wooden chests, small and square, which held his few precious things in good order.
[... a home in the face of...]
Two hundred and thirty-four years after his forceful ejection from Utgard, the ulfrbarn returned to the tree he called home and, clambering up the entrance branch as he called it, he made his way to his flet. His house in a tree was nothing as nice and neat as Hluti's cabin... but the ulfrbarn did not dare stay too long close to Utgard. At any sign of him, those inhabitants would be more than willing to attempt to chase him down.
And Helblindi was there. I never want to see him again, Ulfrbarn told himself. I never want to see him again. It hurt... too much... and for a moment, he sat there on his partially open flet, back pressed up against the wall by his snow-bed, head in his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, as he tried to force the memory of his brother down. Down, he imagined the image of his tall, perfect brother being shrunk and folded and put inside a chest where all the other bad things in his life went – Elska's didn't respond to his first call – Mage Opna's hand on his small chest – Thyrstr's fist rising – nonononono – He curled up tighter and fought back his memories, beating them down until even the memory of the horror on his brother's face began to fade – such horror. He had not looked at himself again since that day, if he could help it. There were no mirrors in the Utanheim excepting the occasional sheet of ice or obsidian cliff. The ulfrbarn did not look. Did not need to remind himself of how much he continued to fail as a Jotunn – and since that day, he had tied a new leather band about his hornless brow which he rarely removed.
At any rate, now was not the time to cry useless tears over snow long melted. There was something greater at stake now, for the snows and winds and ice of the Utanheim winter had swept down through the Offaerfjall Mountains to Snjarhamr beyond - and above them all, the peaks were now laden with a dangerous burden. Winter was coming and with it, the dangers of ice and snow.
A whining, yipping sound rose from below. Crawling to where he was working on raising the final wall for his small tree abode, the ulfrbarn poked his head out and over to peer down at his friends and pack-family below. Groenn. Feitr. Hraustr. Beini. Reka. Skathi - his friends. His pack-brothers - Fenris and the twins, Digor and Dolge. His pack-sister - Vaenn. They were not yet adult, yet no longer children. Like the ulfrbarn, they roamed freely, happy to return home - but only after getting into and out of trouble. Their bright eyes glinted up expectantly and the ulfrbarn rolled his eyes as Groenn, the youngest and most impatient, leaped up and began to scratch against the bark.
"Hey now! I will be down, Groenn," he rolled his eyes, instantly feeling better at the sight of the young thurblakulfr. "Be patient. You know what Storr-Fathir always says – snow does not fall faster with the watching!"
With that, the ulfrbarn scampered forward and pulled his small pack over to his icebox, where he stored newly caught fish and then stowed away the remainder of the previous catch in his small leather pouch which he slipped into his pack along with two hair thongs, Hluti's dagger and a few potions as well as the fabled heillgrjot – the multi-coloured crystal rocks which grew encrusted on the slopes of the Thokafjall mountain range in the north-west.
A while back, the youngling had stumbled upon the outermost field and, from a distance, watched with fascination as a small pack of Jotunn carefully gathered as many as they could before swiftly returning the way they had come through the Nethriland along the Bathmra River down to Grjotvatn and Hluti's cabin. When the Jotunn had disappeared into the gloom, the tiny hands of the ulfrbarn picked up small fragments of the rock and turned them over. As the luminous stone shone in his small palm, he remembered the books Elska had read aloud and which he had also poured over. Distant memory of a happier time – a time when he could read and write – and – best not think of it. You know what these are anyways, the ulfrbarn told himself. Healing and concentration stones. Rare. And you can use them...
On this particular evening, he packed the heillgrjot also wrapped in another pouch, this time of wild-ox hide awkwardly stitched up. Surveying his small home, the ulfrbarn hefted his pack onto his back and slithered down the tree. Groenn was sprawled out on the ground, lolling about and paying no particular attention to his surroundings while the other more mature pack-mates had taken positions around the small clearing to peer out into the dense forest watchfully.
"Did Storr-fathir give the word?" asked the ulfrbarn. Groenn whined and it was Fenris, the eldest, who yipped an answer to which he nodded. He gave his blessing and we are to proceed as planned, but have care for a storm is coming. "Of course. You can tell from the wind." He sniffed the air and frowned, pulling his badly stitched slowly widening fur cloak about him. "It will be cold on the other side tonight. We must make haste if we wish to reach them in time."
Climbing on Fenris's back, the ulfrbarn settled in for the now familiar ride through the steep Offaerfjall mountains. It began with gentle slopes which rose into small paths cut into the sides of the cliffs and there were moments where stones clattered ominously from above as the great grey-black clouds of a magnificent thunder-snowstorm formed. A day and a half trek, travelling light, the small pack were both tired and famished when they finally looked down at the dwindling dale which stretched out from the mountains and then disappeared into the flat lands which surrounded Snjarhamr far in the distance.
"I tried to write..." the ulfrbarn sighed looking down at the farmsteads and the gaping hole which marked the entrance to the cramped, smelly mines which he had traversed once invisibly. "But they would not listen... they never listen."
Groenn yipped and the more serious Digor barked sharply in response.
"No, Groenn," sighed the ulfrbarn, shaking his head as he slipped down to stand beside Fenris, eyeing the peaks which soared above them. They looked even more ominous than usual tonight. The ulfrbarn shivered as the wind howled past bearing with it something dark and dire. "Digor is right. I should have known better. They never wish to speak with me – and of course they would misunderstand the entire matter. Come, let us go to the far peak over on that end – we must finish the last side tonight if we are to make it in time. The storm is upon us. If she is right, we will have much work before the sun rises tomorrow."
And as if to prove him right, the ground beneath them shook in warning.
So there you go - the ulfrbarn is a Jotunn on a mission. For what? We shallll seeee~!
I began this fic saying there would be 50 chapters, but now it's looking more like 56. We'll see... But I have a feeling this thing could go up until 60 chappies. But on the other hand, the chapters are short. Sooo... Yeah.
Update on Friday!
Glossary:
ulfrbarn – wolf's child
blakkgras – black grass
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves
Utanheim – Outer Realm
dvegr – dwarf
tunglblom – moon blossom
heithrsker – crystal flower
luthrblom – trumpet flower
jarnkottr – iron cat
jarnvithr - ironwood
hota-eik – white oak
heillgrjot – healing stones