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.
My Dad is at home, recovering nicely. PTL! And my allergies have subsided for the most part - and now I just have to beat a cough and the continuing eczema. It doesn't help that I have to use chalk two days a week - which is totally not good for one's skin. I'm going to have to wear gloves... and of course - MOISTERIZE~! HA~!
As for those who reviewed and wished me well - THANKS SO MUCH! THANKS TO: InsolentKatt for your PMs! TO: NX-Loveless-XN, DragonsFlame117, ItsTrueIStalkYou, Guest, CrazyRayRay, Anarane Oronra and Winter Cicada~!
To Guest: I'm with you on wanting Kol'la to win... but in these circumstances, I think the odds were heavily weighted against him - and so, of course, he has to ask if he is MEANT to fail. A valid question, really - because the poor guy can NEVER win. (sigh) But I have some cool victories up ahead for him! At least 3x in a row~! HA~! Good times. As for the wandering... all I can say is that we have not yet visited the other Realms... yet... Heehee~! But don't worry about lack of family dynamics... Travelling stories won't start until Chapter 44 or so. XD Thanks about the summary thanks to two friends, I was able to tweak it. Hopefully people won't be daunted and try my story out!
A lot of exposition up ahead. Sorta... SORRY! But pay attention - the devil's in the details~!
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 41
Grasping the Stars
[...with these rites...]
[...what do we commemorate...]
[...but the origins of all that...]
In the beginning, the Asgardian Saga-Vefr say – in the beginning before What Is was, darkness reigned. There was only darkness; there was the Ginnung, the Void, the eternal vastness, the endless emptiness. Then, as the stories tell, as the Story-Weavers tell – in an explosion of light and magic, there was Life. That Which Is – both Seen and Unseen – came into being.
Now, hundreds and thousands and, perhaps, hundreds of thousands of millenia later, memories of the Ominni-Tith were given homage as the cycle of passing the stormerki, the mysteria, to a new generation of Acolytes, soon to be Mages, was once again enacted. The Rikr-Hringraevi had turned – and flanked on either side by fellow scholars, the Acolyte Kol'la began the final Runa a Fyrsta - the Rites of Initiation. Listening to the words of Agaeti as they flowed out with the ease of familiarity, Kol'la's eyes wandered discreetly around the large, formally decorated room before him.
Before him lay the low table upon which sat the symbols of their trade: staffs, scrips and vellum. To the left before them in a wide semi-circle sat the as yet unready Acolytes and Apprentices of the younger classes and those who had just recently graduated before him. Opposite, on the right, were the more important functionaries seated in their respective tiered pews – the highly decorated Honoured Alumni (for glorious acts of service), the Aesir High Council of Magics and Academics and other such dignitaries. Behind all, encircling the two half circles of the Mage's Court around the outer edge of the great, dimly lit, round room, were those forever immortalized in stone – those who had returned to the very fabric of Life from which they had come. Those who had passed on.
Above them all, sitting in the Upper Gallery of the domed hall, Odin sat with Frigga. The King of Asgard, Odin All-Father and his lady wife, Frigga of Vanaheim, had deigned to attend for the first time in millenia.
For my sake, Kol'la smiled to himself as Agaeti droned on – "...for those are not the futile gestures of lesser men, but with these rites do we commemorate the Origins of all that is, was and shall be..." – they came for me. The young Jotun usually would have found great amusement at such a grand deception – that Royalty of Asgard would come to celebrate the achievements of a savage beast, their life-long enemy, a Jotun. Yet, Kol'la had no heart for such madness in such a sacred moment. Instead, he found comfort in their presence, despite the weight of their gaze upon him. The gazes of all those present: Odin's usual unreadable, thoughtful looks, Agaeti's measuring glances and Flarathir's patronizing, yet calculating stares. Bracing himself and firming his shoulders, Kol'la found Frigga's proud gaze and grinned instead.
If this is a trick, he thought, it is a good one.
The ceremony itself was short and quiet as befit the life of Mages in Asgard – arcane, mysterious and not commented upon by the general populace which preferred simpler pleasures, grand adventures and honourable combat. Unlike the more popular Runa a Kelda and Runa'a'Vetr festivities and the more personal traditions of the Koma a Aldr, the transformation from student to master was much more solemn and, to the uninitiated or untrained who could not unravel the meanings of voiceless symbols, uninteresting.
Like now, Kol'la thought as a ceremonial scrip, staff and vellum were placed in his hands. Carefully balancing them (and very glad he had practised earlier), Kol'la repeated his part of the responses – "...finding meaning in gesture, placing force in mortion, we partake in the mysteria, we can but graze the surface of the..." and vows – "...I am but a foot soldier in the Battle and stand, back to the Shadow, face forward to Valhalla and the Light..."
Spells of blessing and empowerment followed, intoned in the deep voices of the Mage's Council. Odin and Frigga spoke them as well – and Kol'la realized that, at some point, Odin must have also taken those vows to fight as a Force for good. Odin as an Acolyte? Kol'la thought. Impossible... and yet...
And yet.
No doubt, Kol'la decided, knowing the importance of all of this, the All-Father thought it necessary to encompass all that is Asgard during a time of unending war – but it did not come natural to him as it had for Lady Frigga... Lady Frigga, who, coming from Vanaheim, could not – could never – take an official position within these halls... in the end, she carved herself her own place within the magic of Asgard. Her will is indeed strong. Kol'la smiled to himself. As mine will be.
Polite applause broke through his thoughts and High-Mage Agaeti took his place behind a marble podium set up within the wide aisle to give a long-winded speech on responsibility and giftings and other dull topics which Kol'la had heard so many times before. Other mages afterwards stepped forward to give praise or words of advice. Kol'la smiled coolly at the mild jokes cracked by the ever mirthful Mage Eryth and the back-handed compliments of Mage Flarathir. Letting their bombastic words roll over him, Kol'la revelled in the feel of the rough wood of the simple staff within his hand.
A pause. Then, with a nod, the low table was lifted away from before them and the ten Acolytes could take five ceremonial steps forward into the middle of the room on the checkered marble paving. They stopped as quiet servants placed a long, deep iron box before them – the next obstacle in the Rites: the Skipa, or the Infusion. Instilling his magic into the crude wood within his left hand, focusing his power on the small crystal set into the rough carving at the staff's head, Kol'la filled it carefully, yet quickly with his magicks and then in turn set the staff inside.
Stepping forward importantly, Mage Flarathir gave a short speech on the fires of their magick filling the universe and how each small flame could take part in the streams of Life and blend with the colours of the Magickal Spheres. With that, the staffs were set on fire and the slow release of magic with the heated crystals turned the flames into glorious iridescent colours of reds, purples, yellows, oranges, greens and blues.
Watching the flames, knowing that in the more theoretical classes there was an on-going discussion as to what colour (if any) symbolized what level of power, Kol'la wondered if his magics would always shine such a lustrous blue and green. The colours of power in Asgard are red and gold – strong, vivid and bold like its people... but mine is cool. Always cool. Cool and cold.
As the iron box was moved to a position somewhere behind them, the flames still crackling merrily, Kol'la and his fellow scholars opened the leather scrips which hung from their shoulders and pocketed the vellum within before stepping forward again – this time passing the High Mage to take up a line before the door which, facing the mountain, opened onto a small, green garden. The garden which had no name yet was spoken of with reverence by all those who worked Magick.
This was a sacred space and in its middle stood an inconspicuous, grey, stone well, fed by a stream deep within the earth which flowed down from the Skythurs itself. As the stories went, not long after the dawn of Time when Asgard bloomed as the final act of Magick and Light, the heartbeat of the Realm was hidden within the greatest mountain – but its power flowed out and, they say, has continued to flow out to this day. On Runa a Fyrsta, each Acolyte stood before it and in deep meditation partook of the waters in the Laegja, also known as the Rite of Immersion.
Eventually, finally, it was his turn. Kol'la stood before the Well, the grey stone underneath his palms felt solid as the rock of Skythurs itself – and like all of Asgard, it hummed with Life and green things and glorious purpose and great destinies and fierce combat. The Velspara-Speki, the Well of Wisdom, which granted those gifted few a glimpse of their destiny - or doom.
...you stand here...
...you take what is not yours...
...and yet, it may be...
...may be yet...
Kol'la thought of Asgard. He thought of Thor and lightning and the visible coursing of power through fist and bone and the strength of belief - I see you -, housed within blonde hair and blue eyes. He thought of wise and complex counsel and Odin All-Father's words – I trust you to be a brother – and white candles flickering in the dim library, lighting up dusty tomes. He thought of Frigga and a golden orchard and a sickbed of long ago and encouragment - you are always welcome at my side - and love, a quiet hall of weaving and the sweet fragrance of tea. He thought further back – back to the worlds upon which he had lived, suffered, survived – and the Voices of those places, which could no longer be called Realms for their power had long since died. Further back – further back –
...to the place from which you came...
...to the land of which we do not speak...
...to the origin...
Mage Opna and the rites of Jotunheim and the dusty Gothahus. Empty rites, Elska had laughed and snorted and shook his head. Sometimes the Caretaker had cried. Kol'la, standing before the grey well, thought he understood now. Maybe. Maybe, just a little.
[...gesture without meaning...]
[...motion without force...]
Kol'la's right hand moved forward and without much thought, without realization, clasped the dipper and eased it into the well's waters. The waters which rose to the well's top – clear and cold and sweet, he knew before even drinking. And when he sipped it –
...why should we not share...
...we who were once brother-sister...
...from the Dawn of Time...
...when we were born...
Kol'la's slender throat worked a little as the fresh water slid down into his belly. There was no one around him – just Kol'la alone in that small garden – such silence. Above him, shadows moved gradually over the sheltered place, the sun's ray winking in and out as the revolving stones, which had first caught his gaze on his arrival in Asgard, turned in time, marking the moment. Marking the place for all time.
He saw neither light nor shadow, neither green nor grey, neither what is seen or felt or sensed. Kol'la could only let what he knew would come to him – a sense of what lay before him. They had said – High-Mage Agaeti, Odin All-Father, Mage Hrotha and Flarathir – it was a time to know one's place. What is it? Kol'la thought. What will I commit to memory, to letter, to Life? He remembered his words to Frigga.
-must I always play the role of the wrong one... the misguided one... the defeated one?-
And her reply:
-The things I saw... they were great things... and maybe some of them may seem terrible – but I know that you will work through your path, however dark it may seem and find the place to which you truly belong-
Was she right? Kol'la asked. What is it that you have for me?
And the wind answered.
[...so we partake of Life...]
[...but can we understand it truly?...]
Before him spread Jotunheim, empty and white and void. The skies of Jotunheim were empty. Void of life. Not the Void. Not yet. One day, however, Kol'la thought, it will succumb. Unless... unless.
...unless...
Heimsrsal. Faint – and yet... not. There, and yet, not.
A tall, empty house of worship, the Gothahus, now silent with the Dead. Then, the quiet is broken - it is the cry of a babe in the dead of night heard only by a soul-dead Caretaker. He held the small thing in his hands - and, letting it live, brought the gift of years to himself and to Jotunheim.
To Jotunheim?
...there is hope, dear heart...
...there is always...
[...so we dip into the wisdom of our Forefathers...]
The Cosmos – full of colour and fantastic things and Life and possibilities. The Void – black and filled with nameless things and Death and inevitability. Eternally battling. And there he stood, as he always had, upon on the edge – but not as his Vow had stated. Never as his Vow. Never would he be able to fulfill that promise. I am a liar, he thought, as he gazed into the Abyss. And always shall be. Ever shall my back be to Valhalla and the Light and ever shall I face this emptiness.
[...so we glimpse destiny...]
When Kol'la emerged a little later than was usual, his face was blank, yet his eyes blazed an unearthly green. As the other now-Mages before him had done, Kol'la opened his scrip, removed the vellum and wrote a few words on the pages before folding the paper and committing the words to the fire. It was the last step - the Brenna-fir, the Immolation, giving back to the fires of Life what the revelation granted to one only moments before.
Frigga knew that it was not her place to ask what destiny had been placed on those slender shoulders, but she wondered what the young man had seen. There was no doubt in her mind that he had actually seen something, unlike the others who loudly proclaimed hollow retellings of great honours and bright futures. The motherly Queen's stomach twisted as Kol'la removed the scrip, placed it again on the low table and exited the room without a word. During the small meeting afterwards, the Queen watched as Kol'la, rather dazedly, responded mechanically to the well-wishes of his peers and the other Mages on the Council. Unlike his usual smooth self, Kol'la remained, for the most part, monosyllabic.
He is altogether too quiet, Frigga decided, much later on that evening at the feast which she had planned for the young Mage. Kol'la is not... here...
"Kol'la," Frigga leaned sideways to clasp the green-eyed young man's hand. "Kol'la... Are you well?"
"I am well," Kol'la's eyes sharpened as he returned to where he was. He smiled then, a small quick smile rather forced and he squeezed her hand lightly in return, comfortingly. "Well," he paused as Thor's booming narrative suddenly mentioned his name – in a rather unsavoury way, "as well as might be – what is Thor talking about now?"
"Ah. Some story about your last quest with him to that dreadful world..." Frigga shook her head and sighed. "He is really altogether too excitable – especially when it comes to feasts."
"Thor!" Kol'la rose and lobbed a piece of bread at his friend's head. "Not only is your story-telling as horrific as usual – but you are leaving out any actual facts and you are forgetting the best bits!"
"Kol'la!" The blonde warrior turned with a frown away from some now very mirthful courtiers. "I was not forgetting them – I had just not yet gotten to the part where you tripped over your own staff."
"The only reason why I tripped over my staff was because I had just used it to pull you out of that hunting trap you walked into! If it hadn't been for the age of the thing and the low quality of work put into it, you might have ended your quest with some well-placed skewers! And I fancy that Hogun and Fandral – and even the ever-hungry Volstagg here – could say 'no' to a meaty round of Thor!"
More laughter. Sif was shaking her head, but also chuckling a little behind her own goblet of mead. Volstagg thumped Thor on the back and offered the Prince another leg of turkey for consolation's sake.
"What?" roared Thor in return, ignoring a glare from Odin who was not enjoying the spray of food raining on his head thanks to Thor's half-full mouth. "And do you remember why I was so distracted as to put my life in danger – only because you were threatening to rouse our enemy and warn them of our approach with that damned warbling of yours. I swear," Thor turned to the others, "if you put a gown on him and a lute in hand, you would mistake Kol'la here for one of our maidens."
"And yet I would be the finest about," Kol'la retorted, face turning red.
"Thor," Sif said, rising from her place opposite the Prince and laid a hand on his. "Listen to me, Thor – let Kol'la tell the tale. After all, this is a feast in his honour."
"Yes, yes, listen to her as usual," grumbled Kol'la, giving Sif the evil eye. "Never the more rational one."
"After all," Sif continued sweetly, teeth now grinding at Kol'la's poor gratitude. "He is so sensitive, poor thing, and may never live it down."
Thor looked between the two who were now openly glaring at each other – then he laughed good-naturedly. Offering some more mead to his father and filling Sif's goblet up again as well, Thor shrugged.
"Now, Sif," he said, "you have a point. Come, Kol'la. Tell the tale with your usual great skill and awe us all with the recounting of my great – of our great deeds and what we conquered together."
"Hm," Kol'la's eyes narrowed. "If you make jest at me, I shall find you and-"
"And what?" Thor asked impudently. "Do not tell me you wish to enjoy another wrestling match so soon?"
"THOR!"
"Thor!" Frigga sighed and gave her son a despairing look, upon which Thor sat down and looked up at Kol'la with expectancy.
Realizing that the entire table had now fallen silent and all eyes were indeed turned upon him – waiting for the tale to be told, Kol'la sighed, shook his head, straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath – and began.
"As some of you may know, but two weeks ago, Thor," (round of hurrahs), "the Warrriors Three" (roar of approval), "the fair Lady Sif" (catcalls and huzzahs), "and your own glorious story-teller, myself," (even more roaring, laughter and pounding on the tables), "set forth on a grand adventure to the world, which is so named Que'ranos, known for its famed underwater serpents which float – thusly -" (a sweep of the arm and the hall was filled with the illusion of water and giant beasts – a hush lowered over the crowd) "and to that place, Thor had the desire to go and slay one such creature. As you may guess, this is no small matter since the oceans are deep beyond measure – and dark-" (here the waters and light dimmed, giving the entire room a murky, mysterious feel) "and rarely do they surface for the sun's ray and breath of air. Nevertheless, our proud Prince had decided and we landed. However, no sooner did we set foot on the soil than a crowd of inhabitants approached us with terrible news -"
His voice rolled onwards and outwards and the scene changed to stormy skies and the shadow of a threat. Faces turned upward and around watching the story play out in all of its comedic, tragic and epic glory. When the tale ended, there was thunderous applause and everyone agreed that Thor could not have told it better.
"Maybe, Prince Thor will gain the skill," one Mage said graciously, unwilling to lose standing in Thor's regard – and Odin smiled. High-Mage Agaeti had been his right-hand adviser throughout the years, alongside his brothers and his wife. Kol'la, however, fulfilled two of the roles already. The All-Father had chosen. Soon, the rest of the Mage's Court would know.
[...yet best laid plans...]
[...oft go awry...]
"How do you think it went?" Frigga asked the next day, watching Kol'la finger the green leaves of her columbine absently.
"The feast was – it went well, I think. Of course, telling stories is what I do best... and the food – your choices were... I, ah, I enjoyed them. Thank you."
"Especially the mint pudding," Frigga said with small attempt to repress a smile at Kol'la's apparent inability to express his deep-hearted thanks.
"Yes," Kol'la nodded, his green eyes unable to meet hers. "Especially the mint pudding."
"Hm."
Frigga sat and then patted the stone seat beside her in unspoken invitation. After a moment of silent dithering, the tall, slender young man sat, hands trapped between long, leather-clad thighs, shoulders hunched - a picture of uncomfortable uncertainty. The Queen looked him over – from the top of his neatly combed back black hair (so rare for the Realm), green eyes set in a pale, lean face carved with aristocratic lines. The thin lips set in a determined line – with the strong jaw that still curved to give a soft look.
He will always be a boy, she thought, to me. Since his questing, he had gained muscle – lean muscle that ran down his neck and gave some volume to his Mage Acolyte's blue and cream uniform. No longer a student, she thought, he should get a tailor...
Her hand rose to clasp the now wider shoulder and she smiled as she met his eyes. Kol'la's hand rose in response to cover her fingers with his longer, slender ones.
A beautiful boy, Frigga thought then, a handsome boy, I should say.
"What are you thinking?" Kol'la asked softly, lips quirking up in a smile.
"Why do you ask that?" she replied in kind.
"You have... an odd look on your face..."
"I suppose, I was thinking..." Frigga laughed then quietly. "How much you have grown since that first day I saw you lying on the bed, bleeding out. How much you must have grown since the time you were born... how handsome you have become. And clever, of course."
"Of course." His dark head tipped forward – and his right boot crossed his left boot as he shuffled uneasily in his seat.
"Fondness is something that mothers feel all the time."
"Yes... I suppose."
"Well," she sighed, "that was... rather forward of me. Since I am not your mother."
"No," Kol'la looked up then and his eyebrows crinkled a little at the thought. "You are not."
"Mother or no, I am very proud of you and what you achieved yesterday – and whatever you saw, I am certain you can overcome it."
"What you see is destiny," Kol'la said. "Mage Flarathir said that what we see at the Well is-"
"Flarathir is a bit of an ass, dear," Frigga laughed. "His magick is as he is – unbending and harsh – and not a little hungry. However, those of Vanaheim see magick as they see Life – something that is organic – that grows, even in the harshest of places... and so, nothing is set in stone, dear heart. Do you understand?"
Kol'la nodded slowly and Frigga drew him into a hug, knowing that this was the best she could do – for now.
"So," she said, drawing back, taking a deep breath and banishing the gloomy subject from between them. "I am thinking it is time to visit a tailor. Come, Kol'la, you and I – we could find something those than those blues and creams – what they do to your colouring! Do you wish to look like dead fish through all eternity? What is your favourite colour?"
"Well, black is most suitable for-"
"Black!" The woman threw up her hands in mock despair. "You and Thor! Colour! I am certain you know of colour!"
"Well, fine then," Kol'la chuckled, "when I was... younger... I wore green. Green is a good colour."
"And would go well with burnished gold or silver. Yes, yes, I can see it. And it would compliment your eyes so... see, this is what I was thinking..."
Dark and light blurred together as shadows shifted upon the grass beneath the gently rustling trees. Dark and light heads bent together in conspiracy. Dark and light, so juxtaposed, yet finding harmony, building peace.
Well, there we go. A bunch more of Kol'la-centric stuff. Hope it worked for you folks! Send me questions if there's something unclear!
So, with that chapter finished, we are only 2 more away until the naming of LOKI~! YEAH~!
I'm so excited... I hope you are too! I hope it feels realistic... I hope this all feels seamless... and stuff. (sigh) I've not been at my best, so my writing halted, but recently, I got a lease on life, so I hope that my writing can pick back up again.
That being said, an update will come out in 5 days or so.
Please let me know what you think! It's really encouraging to me - to answer questions or dialogue with folks or rant about Hiddleston/Loki - and helps me write faster (and better)!
See ya guys around!
-KI
Alien Glossary:
'auzha – fucker
Dou'ma – idiot
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium
cho'ai - lover
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore
Morning-star - a mace.
oma'auzha – mother-effer
oto'oa - big sister
udji'oo – a drug, like opium
Asgardian Glossary:
seithr - magic
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"
bikkja – bitch
Saga-Vefr – Story-weavers
Ginnung – the Void
Ominni-tith - the Forgotten Times
stormerki – mysteria
Rikr-Hringraevi – Grand Cycles of Time
Runa a Fyrsta – Rites of Initiation
Runa a Kelda – Rites of Spring
Runa'a'vetr – Winter Solstice
Koma a Aldr – Coming of Age
Skipa – the Infusion
Velspara-Speki – the Well (of Wisdom)
Laegja – the Immersion
Brenna-Fir – the Immolation