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.
Thanks everyone! Thanks to: wbss21, acidburned, FrostElfSlytherin, Anarane Oronra, Chiharu-Angel, DragonsFlame117, ClaMiAl, Extra-Loki, CrazyRayRay113, windschatten, and soupcan.
I'm updating a little early because I seriously need to wallow in my Loki and Hiddleston feels. Between the downturn in the Thor-Loki relationship that appears to be going on in the clips, the fact that Hiddles was in Beijing (so close, yet so far!) and the fact that I may seriously be harbouring a crush which is depressing for a woman of my age... Yeah. I just wanna put myself into a coma that lasts until December, so I can wake up in time for Christmas and going home. And going home (Ontario, Canada) for winter vacation (Jan/Feb) will be so interesting b/c I will be surrounded by people who don't care about/like Loki... (sigh)
ALSO - 15 more reviews and then I'll reach 300~! I'm so excited! So, when I get there, I'll post the first side-story publically and I will privately PM reviewers (or email) a link to the 2nd side-story... only for reviewers who reviewed chapter 40 and beyond! Let me know which side story you'd like the most! ["A Day With Elska", "Loki and Kayra The Healer", "First Days" (Kol'la's Asgardian culture shock), "Birthday" (Loki's 2000 year birthday)]
Thanks to my good friend Kate who told me that most Americans must read "Weldon's Pond" (or at least, lit majors) and is the most beautifully written book, but also the most useless. So, it turns up here... sort of. Thanks, Kate~!
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 44
Star-farer I
The soul of Alfheim is sweet and clear, pure as a mountain stream flowing with newly melted snow. Sweet, pure and a little cool, promising rain and green grass and joyous dances in purple twilight beneath the shelter of ancient yew. A soft world, an ethereal place and the embodiment of its Soul rather different from the boisterous wind of Asgard or the lonely spirit of Jotunheim. Alfheim, Vanaheim and their smaller, less well-known sister Realm, Nornheim, shared the echoes, the Sages tell, of the organic magick which flowed about at the Dawn of Time before the years were counted, before the First People rose to take note of Time. Thus born together, they shared the gifts of plenty and grew, broad and green, as lands of light, dimmer visions of Asgard which formed above.
How the worlds met each other, how space and time held them together and yet apart, how these three moved relative to the rest of the Nine Realms – these were the great mysteries which many pondered over. The Seithrmasters of Asgard, gifted as they were with the powers of the Bifrost, having a complicated mechanism with which to travel, did not consider the matter of the relativity of time, space and the Realms too deeply. The Elves and dwarves, however, spent much thought and energy learning how to bridge the Spaces Between and so found the Dark Ways, bypassing the monopoly of the Bifrost neatly, albeit at great Risk.
For, Loki read in yet another tome, another treatise on the matter, the Spaces Between span vast distances through the Dark, which even the armies of Hel and our other Kin also fear to tread. This Dark is empty, if tales are to be believed. Yet, some aver that they have heard the Voice of the Dark, the Voice of the Dark that whispers in the night. It craves all things, these mystics say, for it is eternally hungry. It is calling.
Loki leaned back in the sturdy wood chair, gracefully carved which he had occupied for the last few weeks. Elbows propped on the chair's rounded arms, relaxed as he was against the lightly padded back, Loki's fingers met, steepled in thought before his lips as the warrior-mage contemplated the book's words.
…these mystics say…
…for it is eternally…
…it is calling…
…the mystics…
…calling…
The mystics, Loki recalled, are those few Elves, Light or Dark, who tie themselves ever closer to Yggdrasil's magickal stream of Life – and thereby tap into the dangerous knowledge that may one day tear the soul apart… Loki thought of the kind-hearted, clear-eyed Hluti, thought of himself drinking deeply from the Well. What destruction would such power wreak in you… and the mystics as such were ever bound to solitude and wandering… Few are left… but some works remain, surely…
Loki sat forward, shut the thick, heavy books before him carefully and set them aside before securing his ever-thickening journal. Then, sweeping away, candlestick in hand, Loki began to peruse the furthest case of books which he knew, thanks to the ever helpful, knowledgeable librarian, held the original copies of various famous Elves not published for the masses due to their "esoteric nature".
The ramblings of mad-men, Flarathir would say, Loki smiled to himself, amused at the thought, well, more like mad-Elves. Still... The image of Hluti's silhouette cast against the morning sky above a small dugout hut rose in his mind's eye. Still... they meant no harm... for they sat too close to the Souls of the Realms and drank deeply of Yggdrasil's magick but they answer to no one – not even the Norns and heed only the call of Life. As such, they offer no harm to any living thing... can we judge them for it?
Loki set the candlestick down, reached for the top shelf and the book on the right-most side. He would start there – methodically scanning one book at a time. The first, at a glance, appeared to be a low-level magick notebook on the elements; the second, a cookbook; the third, another book of notes on magickal shields; the fourth, on Elvish myths; the fifth, Vaerildon's Pond. He pressed onward (raising an eyebrow over the last), perusing each small book and scanning the table of contents (if there were any) or the first few pages to get the gist of the main content. It was around the three-quarter mark when Loki finally stumbled on four rambling texts written by three separate Elves. The one Elf who had written two notebooks seemed particularly verbose on all matters arcane and forgotten concerning the Void. One was labeled The Mystick's Dream.
Before he sat down with his finds, Loki double-checked the rest – but nothing stood out as pertinent to his two-fold quest – to find the origin of his name and to find more information on the Void. With the four books which did indeed seem to fit his needs, Loki began to read the esoteric ramblings of the Ancient Elves who had dared to tie themselves so closely to Yggdrasil and its magick.
[...and so knowledge is mined...]
[...as a precious jewel...]
[...power and old, these words take root and breed...]
At some point of time, just after the second watch, Loki dozed off into an fitful, head nestled in his arms on top of The Mystick's Dream. For the first time in years, he dreamed of the Void and what lay between the stars – the black pits which devoured all, even the Light. It was as he remembered it: dark, haunting, seemingly empty and cold. Loki was, as always, standing on the edge – the edge of the Eybjarg, the edge of Nowhere and, looking in, he could hear it - the Voice which called from the Abyss –
...YOU ARE MINE...
– deep and dark, it beckoned –
...COME, LITTLE PRINCE...
– it knew him by name –
...I AM WAITING...
– always there – always within reach and Loki wondered why he had to hear it so persistently. He thought desperately of Elska's rough hands, Hluti's wide palms and Frigga's soft fingers. He thought of wide, blue skies, vast plains of ice and snow and a golden realm and the ever, cloud-tipped Skythurs, sheltering a brilliant city which welcomed the Rainbow Bridge and the promise of the stars.
Jotunheim. Asgard. Home. Home is where the heart lies, Frigga once said... and she promised, she promised to welcome me always to her side.
Loki.
...EMPTY WORDS, LIE-SMITH. YOU KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE...
Loki.
No. No. No. Nonononono.
Loki.
No!
Loki!
Loki woke up with a startled jump, gasping – and for a moment, he stared at the empty room before him and then down at the open books strewn about on the wide oak table. The white tapered candles, now burning low in the candlesticks guttered warningly.
"My lord?" A soft voice asked from the dark, causing the young Prince to flinch.
"Ah... Elethed." Loki rose a little jerkily thanks to lingering stiffness caused by his uncomfortable posture.
The Elf paid him on heed and raised a hand, beckoning fire, for a fresh set of candlesticks, which Loki now saw he was holding.
"I did not see you there."
"There was a... shout," Elethed replied to the unspoken question diplomatically.
"It was nothing."
"I see you found the Mystick's verse. Listening to those who answer the Call of the Deep... difficult reading before one's sleep."
"What happened – happens to them... the Mysticks... exactly?" Loki asked carefully, easing the books shut, but setting aside The Mystick's Dream for further perusal.
"It is difficult to say – for certain... for they do not return, those who fall to the Shadow... and those who remain are driven mad by it or turn to acts of evil in obedience to those dark urges... or they-" Here, the Elf sighed and gestured toward the books Loki had found. "Or they take refuge beneath the sheltering boughs of Yggdrasil. We all choose, you understand, in the end. However, they understood the process better – or perhaps see it clearer."
"They were the first," Loki surmised. "The first to cross the Void."
"Indeed," Elethed took a stack of Loki's finished tomes and laid them on a small cart to the side of the table. "For some, to face their fears; for others, to succumb to them."
Loki shuddered. The Elf nodded thoughtfully and, after adding two more stacks of books, pushed the cart along down the wide aisle adjoining Loki's favoured nook.
"Yes... it is a fearsome thing."
"I am not afraid," Loki said quickly, pulling his journal and the remaining book toward him.
"You should be," Elethed's voice faded as he moved away, falling into shadow. "You should be."
-0-0-0-
Loki returned to his rooms, after signing The Mystick's Dream out, and fell into dreamless sleep against all expectations. The next morning, he spent a rare leisurely amount of time in bed, easing out all the kinks he had gained the weeks before from sleeping in the library's chair. Shifting underneath the light sheets, which did not press so heavily on his cool skin, Loki curled up with his notes and read through what he had written the night before. There was much food for thought.
As of yet, he mused, laying the leather bound book aside on the small night table to his left, no information can be found on my name. Loki sighed as he reviewed his options. I could just ask Odin. Or Frey... And... what would they say? Hmmm... Or perhaps that damned Elf was just toying with me... Knowing the uncertainty would eat at me. Reading my aloofness as isolation and mistrust of Asgard, he may have been attempting to sow seeds of discord between Odin and I... and Thor.
...and it is working...
Loki sighed, turned and then stretched, enjoying the luxurious curl of his toes, the perfect ambient temperature of the room and the silence. It was a warm quiet. Far away, he could hear a bell clanging, the chatter of the outer Courtyard now bustling as the business of the day got well underway. A door slammed loudly somewhere, the escalating sound of trotting hooves announced a company of horsemen, feet pattered with increasing frequency and urgency outside his door and voices murmured – growing louder and fading quickly – as the speakers hurried past. Loki propped himself up on an elbow, frowning, the blue silk sheet slipping off one pale shoulder. Tilting his head, he contemplated what he had heard.
Something has happened? Quickly he rose, drew a quick bath, washed swiftly his hair, combed and slicked back his unruly short hair, donned his usual traveling gear which had been recently washed and mended – and then, he carefully poked his head out the room allotted to him, peering up and down the hallway. A few Elves were scurrying up and down, fluently speaking their mother-tongue in hurried undertones.
As he passed one open door, Loki paused at the sound of his name, softly called.
"Prince Loki!
It was one of the airy parlours where many of the Elf-maids enjoyed taking their tea or light cordials in the mid-morning or mid-afternoon. Decorated with soft peaches, creams and pale blues, the large room, full of light, gave the impression of softness and fragility. Entering slowly and carefully, Loki felt, even more so than ever, a little out of place in his dark leathers and green-lined travelling coat. Compared to the varying gold and white gold hair of the Elves with their blue or blue-grey eyes, Loki was as foreign as a Dwarf would be. Or a Jotun. He shuddered. Yet, he kept his shoulders straight, his chin up and wound his way into the centre of the room gracefully.
"Prince Loki," Lady Ilyrana rose to take him by the hand, her brow slightly wrinkled with worry. It was an odd look for the usually serene woman. "Such sad tidings for our fair folk!"
"Sad tidings, my lady?" asked Loki carefully, glancing at the other Elf-maidens' faces. "I have not heard."
"Very grievous indeed," sighed the older woman, shaking her head. "We fear the worst for our cousins."
"Where-"
"In the outer reaches of Alfheim - a good ways north and east," a younger Elf-lady spoke up, her blue-grey eyes tearing up.
"I must go then to the King," Loki eased back, offering the women a small smile, offering a little comfort. "I will offer what help I may give."
"May the Norns bless such a kind heart," sighed Syviis and the other ladies returned Loki's smile and bowed gracefully as he reached the door, saluted them again and left.
Shaking his head, Loki made his way to where he supposed the King would be. Making his way inward and down, Loki found the Great Hall Of Spring was in no small pandemonium. The King of Alfheim, Dain, was to one side, confering with a band of lords and at the sight of Loki standing in the door, King Dain's face lit up.
"Ah. Prince Loki – I see you are already prepared – as to be expected, I suppose of an Asgardian warrior, but you should not trouble yourself needlessly."
"Something happened?" Loki strode up to the table, worry writ all over his face as he caught sight of maps and familiar script of Elvish. Svartalfheim.
"Marauders, I'm afraid," supplied Lord Halflar helpfully. He spoke quickly and concisely as was his wont. "They came in the night – the usual time – looted, and pillaged the peaceful town of Tyrneladhelu, which lies most unprotected on the edges of our Realm. Unfortunately, it was also the annual visitation of Lord Durothil and his family. With him were his two youngest – twins – Lord Alinar and Lady Alynda. Lord Durothil lost his life protecting the Keep and his son Alinar was injured in battle."
"And the Lady?" Loki asked.
"She was taken along with two Elf-lads as hostage. A growing practice among space-faring folk, I am afraid, as a means of income. We wish to give pursuit – or at least meet for a truce to exchange with monies as requested – but the spells of tracking laid upon them have told us they departed to Svartalfheim."
"I see," Loki nodded. "Neutral territory and depending where they rest, a desolate place – unfamiliar and unfriendly."
"Have you traveled there then?" asked the King hopefully.
"Only a handful of times and never visibly... It is a harsh land and severe – and full of many dangers for the unwary."
"Such as?" asked Lord Elaith.
"In such a land, at the advantage, even the most scattered team of bandits may successfully ambush a large force."
"He speaks well," Lord Halflar nodded.
"Perhaps..." The King paused uncertainly.
"Sire?" asked another Elf-Lord tentatively.
"Perhaps Prince Loki – but no, this is no quarrel of his..."
"It may be no personal quarrel," Loki agreed easily as the situation became clear to him. "As they say, the enemy of one is more easily overcome by two. A scouting mission would be a simple task, easily accomplished-"
"But, my lord – the risk-"
"If the All-Father hears we risked his son-"
"Yet, he is capable, experience – and willing-"
"Lindros is right," Loki interjected. "I will go and see where they rest and report back as soon as may be. If Alfheim is in need of aid, Asgard can but answer the call. What little help I may offer, I extend."
With that, Loki Odinsson, Prince of Asgard, departed.
[...to Svartalfheim...]
[...the land of Dark Elves and Dark Dwarves...]
[...the land of broad skies and bleak...]
So, yeah, there we go. Some of Loki in Alfheim - and Svartalfheim... SOON~! Coming up is more of Loki kicking butt... maybe?
OK. So in recap for format, we have these CAPITAL BOLD LETTERS which is the Voice of the Void (or someone else... dun dun dun).
At any rate... so sorry - this chappie is a shorter one... VV;; but I'll update sooner next week - around Tuesday or something like that...
Please let me know what you think~
-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:
bikkja – bitch
Brenna-Fir – the Immolation
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"
Fiendfyre – a phoenix-firebird
Flauguna – flying feet/teleportation
Ginnung – the Void
Hiti-mothr – Flame Fury (also known as Lachruth)
Kaesia-Seithr – Spirit-Spear style
Koma a Aldr – Coming of Age
Kveykva-herklaethi – Light Armoured style
Laegja – the Immersion
Ofolr Leith – Dark Paths, Other Ways (crossing the Void)
Ominni-tith - the Forgotten Times
Rikr-Hringraevi – Grand Cycles of Time
Runa a Fyrsta – Rites of Initiation
Runa a Kelda – Rites of Spring
Runa'a'vetr – Winter Solstice
Saga-Vefr – Story-weavers
seithr - magic
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror
Skjald-borhyrr – Wall of Flame
Skipa – the Infusion
Skokkr-a-Mir – concealment skills, Box of Mirrors (also known as Col'ca-cenedril)
stormerki – mysteria
Tveir-Andlit – illusionary skills, Double Face
Velspara-Speki – the Well (of Wisdom)
Elvish Glossary:
skreyppa – slippery one
gargani – snake
fintalenir – trickster
vanwa – defeated one, impolite term for "loser"
caitahto – liar
curunar – fiery one
Lachruth – Flame Fury
Col'ca-cenedril – Box of Mirrors