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.
A long chapter... with lots of important stuffs... I think. Watch out for the pronoun usage and the names. Things get political and complicated here~
Also be sure to check out my profile for 2 more pictures. ONE IS THIS SUPER AMAZING PIC OF THE ULFRBARN ON A WOLF! Done by our very own Double Gemini~ THANKS~! YOU'RE AWESOME~! In comparison, my own drawing of Jotunn!Loki kinda sucks - but hopefully it'll encourage better artists than I to try their hand at the grown up Jotunn!Loki. Or other parts of the story~
Thanks to all the amazing folks chatting and dropping a few lines! Thanks to: IvySnowe, Supermoi, cecld16, Guest, Hrosanna, Chiharu-angel, DragonsFlame117, Winter Cicada, CrazyRayRay113, ClaMiAl and soupcan!
I have NOT REREAD THIS AS MUCH AS I USUALLY DO, so if there is any mistake, please let me know!
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 50
Open Hands Holding Secret Daggers
This is the heart of the matter, for the power of a Realm is its King, its Armies and the warriors therein, Vanir scholar Eytha of Korinath once wrote in his famous treatise 'On Realms and Their Lifetimes'. The endurance of the Realm is its Spirit, the unseen force which carries forth the will of its people and nurtures what magicks the Realm may offer. However, the Lifeblood of the Realm is its people, their daily lives, their hopes and dreams which guide the Realm's decisions both economical and political. What better way then to witness these, oh so important, interactions than to stroll through the marketplace, explore the farm or journey with a caravan?
The wastelands of Jotunheim are not to be travelled lightly, yet the yearly Caravan Arleng'leith continued to wend its way from its originating city of Snjarhamr. Vatnboer - the town of fish, chilly Thrymheim - city of refuge, cheery Griotunagardar - the city of gaity, Gastropnir - the King's seat and finally, Utgard - the lost citadel: these were the main stops in which the Caravan took rest, during its annual trek from one end of the Innaheim to the other, hard by the Eybjarg.
Many days of hard pounding across fields of blue-white-tinged ice and frozen black soil would pass before any sign of comfort was to be found. Feet ached, bones creaked, skin cracked and the eyes blurred – a slow torment on a long road. For Jotunheim has always been a vast land, even for Giants, and by the time the traders, guards, servants and the odd traveller who straggled behind stumbled into a city, be it dour Thrymheim or the pompous Gastropnir, they were all heartily sick of the monotonous hours of walking, running and pulling carts in the monochromatic vistas of black trees and lakes juxtaposed against grey rock and white snow and ice. They were more than tired of swift meals and uncomfortable rest with the varied guards who looked out into the dark night for any sign of vicious wolves or wild jarnkottr. The drivers' arms desired respite from controlling the ever feisty domesticated jarnkottrs which the traders employed, the servants merely wanted a proper hearth upon which to prepare the evening meals and the traders wished to hear the latest local gossip while sharing their own fresh news. So, as they neared the cities, expectation and excitement inevitably rose, clothing was straightened (cleaning was usually out of the question), the small stubby Jotunn horns of adulthood were polished and freed of ice, faces were scrubbed with clean snow and everything was cleared of ice and snow, the better to display the abundance and variety of their wares.
When Gastropnir hoved into view, the caravan halted for an hour in order to rearrange itself, for, as usual, Driver Olsi had gotten ahead of himself and four traders and their carts had lagged behind. Loki took this chance to double-check his visible (the pack he bore, the spear he carried and the grey-wolf cloak he had newly made) and invisible (his journal, his throwing knives, his potions and crystals and other treasures) belongings. Brushing his hair back quickly and easily, Loki applied a little of his favourite oils to ensure that his unruly locks remained in place, revealing his proud ancestral lines for all to see. Triple-checking his knives, Loki considered going ahead – but then Master Kiri was calling on him in invitation to ride with Driver Torsa at the front and Loki, out of politeness, found himself accepting the honour (and strategic position).
In such a way, Loki rode into Gastropnir, noting the somber, regal decorations, the usual sky-high black stone buildings with their glinting carvings twining about and upward. The residents of Gastropnir walked with pride, which Loki found amusing. Like the warriors of Asgard, he thought, they hold the honour of the nation close to their hearts... the question remaining is... how sensitive they are, how easily do they respond to provocation...
The image of brawny, young Thor rose in his mind then. Arrogant, thick-headed, well-meaning yet holding honour so tightly, they do not count the cost before finding – before showing – their power in battle. Words and treaties and forgiveness are not their first resort... as such they are dangerous... As the jarnkottr paced past, Loki noticed how the whispering increased, how looks were exchanged and stances shifted in tension at the sight of him sitting in front of Torsa. Yet none attacked. Or perhaps... they are waiting, Loki mused. Perhaps at the command of their King, I will know the full weight of Jotunheim's wrath...
When the caravan reached the wide area, which, judging by the stalls and merchants already there, was the city's central marketplace, Loki slid down and then paused at the sight of a guard leaving a small company of what he guessed was the King's Guard and approaching him. If I have judged the colours of the King's livery and heraldry correctly.
The tall, well-muscled Jotunn, wearing a kirtle of black and silver, looked imposing but Loki held his ground. For a moment, the two stared at each other intently, judging and searching for any sign of weakness on the other's part. Then, swiftly, yet gracefully, the guard knelt on one knee, shifted his spear to his left hand and, bowing his head, took Loki's hand and raised it to his brow in obeisance.
All movement in the marketplace ceased. Heads turned and voices lowered and then sank into silence at the odd sight. Unlike Snjarhamr, no one shouted out, no doubt understanding the importance of solidarity and fearing the firm hand of Laufey-King. Laufey knows best for Jotunheim... that is what they hope, Loki guessed. They believe in the justice of their King. How like Odin he is... rather, how strongly Laufey bears this mark of a King...
"Come," the guard said, rising amidst escalated whispers. "A litter awaits."
A litter? The question very nearly popped out of Loki's mouth, his red eyes widened, showing the extent of his surprise. A litter? Loki eyed the large square contraption now approaching between the guards. A carved open box of Vanir hardwood with pulled back silk curtains (no doubt also Vanir). Frowning, he allowed the guard to set a step stool block for Loki to better climb into the litter. A litter, Loki thought darkly, finding his seat and sprawling back in it, legs wide and hands gripping the over-sized armrests, the better to find purchase on the too-large rough seat. Between his feet, his pack had been slung, which he trapped easily between his ankles, while his spear he attempted to grip nonchalantly as the litter jerked and swayed on its way to the Royal Great Hall. A litter, Loki repeated to himself, for the elderly, the disabled... those wounded or incapable... so his opinion concerning his unwanted child remains the same – I will be to him, he says, a burden...
For a moment, Loki considered getting off – jumping off – the jostling, uncomfortable litter, but after an epic inward battle, Loki realized that there would be no real diplomatic way to extricate himself from the situation. Not without looking like a fool or a child. His inner ire struggled for dominance and the disguised Prince of Asgard found himself glaring at everything and everyone on the way up the hilly terrain of Gastropnir to the Great Hall which overlooked the city from its superior height.
When the jolting conveyance finally halted at the top of a great flight of stairs, Loki was allowed to climb out, his pack taken by an overly obsequious servant and let into a large airy atrium beyond which was a small courtyard and then another set of great doors leading into a waiting room of sorts – and then a short hallway which opened with even grander, more intricately carved doors into the throne room of the ever powerful and crafty Laufey-King of Jotunheim.
Face grim, Loki pattered after the increasing amount of guards who escorted him between grand columns to the Seat of the King. This was, he knew, a blatant show of power and all part of the game. The game. Here, he could not help but smirk at the thought, for he knew (as Thor did and most of Asgard – but not Jotunheim, they never knew and would never be allowed to guess) how dearly he loved to play games and tricks, to manipulate and invisibly pull the strings, to make his unwitting puppets dance. This will be a grand working, Loki thought as he came to a halt behind the broad backs of the guards who now stepped aside. The board is mine, the game is mine, this power play I know all too well – and I will never lose to them, he vowed. Never again.
-0-0-0-
His eyes rose. Loki's gaze moved upward, slowly and calculatingly, showing casual insouciance and successfully hiding his reaction to the sheer size of what surrounded him, of who sat before him. The sheer size of the throne, the pillars, the tall, thin windows which opened in regular intervals on each side, the hulking muscular guards and the imposing figure of Laufey-King himself. Leaning back on his icy, dark throne, surrounded by fluted columns and surprisingly gracefully carved pillars, Laufey-King sat at ease, red eyes piercing the dim blue light which filled the throne room. Those hard red eyes, like precious gems, glittered coldly and Loki forced himself to meet the King's gaze with equal distance and serenity.
As if nothing lies between us – as if he had called himself my Sire, Loki thought distantly, as if he had kept me for his own. As if he had calls me a Prince and, one day, hopes to see me on the throne as King. As if between us there is, if not love, then at least respect.
Once again, Loki found himself battling rising feelings of inadequacy. Just by looking at Laufey-King's face, Loki knew that the old Jotunn was far from pleased to see him. About the hall, the nobles who loitered along the edges of the room said nothing, leaving an awkward silence as the two continued to stare at each other.
In that moment, insecurities warring for control, Loki contemplated fleeing the Hall and seeking his answers elsewhere. No longer is it a game, he thought despairingly, heart aching. Perhaps, it never was...
Fool, the darker half of him whispered. You fell again into the witless world of those who hold hope in the face of reality. Somehow – you thought what? That this being, this monstrous savage before you – this thing who could have been your father would accept you with wide open arms? Fool.
Straightening his shoulders, chin rising in renewed defiance, Loki faced Laufey-King and allowed the corner of his lips to lift slightly, turn upward. In recognition, Laufey shifted forward in his seat, moving his elbow from his throne's armrest, and lifting his chin off his giant fist. A rumbling 'Hmmm' broke the silence and Laufey leaned further yet as if Loki were some insect he could barely see.
"So..." Laufey murmured quietly. "So this is the one of whom the superstitious lackwits of Snjarhamr laud as hero. The Wolf's Child, the Ulfrbarn so named..." His following chuckle was dark and grating as stones sound moving upon stone. "So aptly named for a scrawny savage such as yourself... yet..." And here Laufey leaned back again. "You have proven the power of your blood and, as with all those given the honour of my House's heritage, the endurance of my line runs strong within you. Your obvious... deficiencies... aside, for a Runt, you, little Ulfrbarn, surpass all expectation."
-0-0-0-
His eyes fell. As the guards stepped aside, Laufey, sitting alone in his most grandiose hall, with only the closest members of his Council present, was struck by the delicateness of the Runt which stood before him. The old Jotunn King had never seen the babe he had aborted, nor had he ever asked after it – even when Helblindi had brought the matter up for the first (and last) time. I did not want to know what abomination my body had spawned. This thing which should have been unmade – should have returned to the Nothing it is... this Jotunn dvegr, this vaetki... now called Ulfrbarn... How could it be so...
Laufey felt something surge within, and looking at the child of his womb, he wondered. Hate? Fear? Disgust? He could not name the emotion – did not wish to peer too deeply into his heart lest he discover what he feared most. Thus, with stony face, Laufey catalogued the creature before him.
A chiseled, well-formed face by mortal or Elvish standards, Laufey supposed. More like Farbauti, I think, in face. Graceful carriage. The gentle blue of Farbauti and the graceful tell-tale lines of both their clans on his brow and arms. Ulfrbarn, the Wolf's Child, was slender and lightly built, looking like a child to Laufey's cool eye, with no sign of ageing or adulthood upon him even after the long years which had passed. The King snorted softly to himself. Late bloomer indeed. He - It - will never grow horns, Laufey sneered, forever a child with an aged mind trapped within.
At that, the image of Helblindi rose before his mind's eye. Helblindi, tall, well-made, with the proud-formed blunt horns of adulthood now fully grown. Helblindi who so assiduously pursued his duties as Crown Prince. Helblindi, currently with Farbauti and Byleistr, who even now waited patiently in the antechamber for Laufey's call. For Laufey's decision.
"Give him a chance," Farbauti had said, squeezing Laufey's hand before stepping back.
"I wish to meet Smar'brothir!" complained Byleistr who wished to see the creature about whom news had come, describing impossible tales of magic and derring-do. Byleistr had always wished to be an Elder Brother. "Helblindi got to meet him... I do not see why I should miss out on this chance..."
"And if he – it – attempts to stay?" Helblindi asked calmly. "The Court will not approve."
"Helblindi is right," Laufey had sighed with relief that at least his Eldest was showing some sense. "Its stay will be short, Byleistr, if it stays at all. Calm yourself. I will decide – you three will wait."
Thus they had parted and now Laufey found the words to speak as he peered closer at the Ulfrbarn that might have been his child.
"So... So this is the one of whom the superstitious lackwits of Snjarhamr laud as hero. The Wolf's Child, the Ulfrbarn so named... So aptly named," he chuckled, "...for a scrawny savage such as yourself... yet..." Here, Laufey paused, waiting for the creature to react, but there was no open response other than a returned serene gaze. He wondered if the Runt was in fact mentally cognizant. Tales spoke of Runts who, living longer than their time, succumbed to the witlessness of babes – or who were born thus, mentally incapable. Laufey shuddered. For those reasons and others, he thought, our people have had no choice but to end their misery swiftly and, over time, have created stricter rules that the more merciful path of early death may be granted. Yet this one... this one...
"You have proven the power of your blood and, as with all those given the honour of my House's heritage, the endurance of my line runs strong within you. Your obvious... deficiencies... aside, for a Runt, you, little Ulfrbarn, surpass all expectation."
A pause. The runt's thin lips quirked up then and with surprising grace, its heels snapped together as the Ulfrbarn gave a deep obeisance. Rising from a low bow swiftly, the Ulfrbarn smiled again, its hard red eyes glinting, leaving Laufey with an unpleasant impression – before saying slowly and with sardonic amusement:
"Expectations? I was not aware of any."
"As one of the Royal line, whatever you may be, expectation lies upon you – a natural thing as snow is to Jotunheim-"
"The Royal Line?" blinked the creature innocently.
"Do not play the fool, lagreinn," growled Laufey but then he paused as if a thought had struck him, "unless such understanding is beyond you." He turned to Councillor Okilsa who hovered by the closer window. "We should call Head Mage K'valso to ascertain the creature's mental-"
"I understand just fine," snapped the Ulfrbarn, bristling, his grip tightening about the spear with which he had armed himself. "I am merely attempting to allow you the benefit of publicly disowning me if you so will."
"Hahaha," Laufey gave a hard laugh then. "Ahhh... to disown – such a thing is impossible for the Jotunn. Or very nearly impossible. Such a mortal, such an Asgardian concept, foolish creature – and it betrays your ignorance. For here, on Jotunheim, if a creature such as you lives, and bears the mark of its shamed Sire... there are... many options or means for disposal, but actual acts of disowning are forbidden. Such oaths being broken on the physical plane affect the realms which are not seen and to sever the link between one's own blood and the For-Eldra is a cruelty beyond imagining – even for us."
"No? Rather you aid them to meet the For-Eldra all the sooner-"
"The better to ease their suffering-"
"Your suffering-"
"SILENCE!" thundered Laufey.
The runt looked up at him brazenly – unfazed and Laufey found himself standing and looming over the insect-like dvegr, attempting to cow the creature into silence. Unsuccessfully.
"So you would rather-"
"Why have you returned, Unwanted One?" Laufey cut off the insolent wretch before it could complete its sentence.
"I came for answers to a question."
"Hm. And what may that question be?"
Calculating red eyes ran over the hall, sweeping over the huddled councillors and nobles before landing back on Laufey. Dark lips quirked upward then.
"I do not think you are ready for it yet," the Vaetki finally said.
Laufey gritted his teeth. The impudence. Does the little fool not realize where he stands – before whom he stands?
"Still..." Once again, the Ulfrbarn's eyes swept around the room swiftly as if measuring up and then barely attempting to hide his responding scornful smile. "I admit to curiosity, Laufey-King, for it appears as though your grand kingdom has acquired something of a... tarnish. Perhaps you would benefit from what knowledge I gained during my travels among the Nine Realms – and beyond."
"Your knowledge."
"Why yes," the Ulfrbarn grinned here, sharp white teeth bared like its surrogate family. A vicious look. A wolfish look. Laufey repressed a shudder. "Knowledge. Knowledge of trade, of inter-realm finances, policy and politics, of resources and, of course, of magick."
"Hm. This would supposedly place us in debt to you, then?"
"I would say so, yes. Yet, the bargain is not hard, I think – for payment would only be an answer – on the day I ask a question of you, you, Laufey-King, must answer in all honesty. A fair bargain, do you not think? For one such as I surely cannot be... choosy."
It is not fair, Laufey thought as a matching smile crossed his face, but then to countenance a bargain with one such as this creature... merely allowing it to live is a gift in and of itself.
Laufey nodded. Grimly.
-0-0-0-
"Very well," he said, slowly easing back on his great black throne – and Loki's gut unknotted slowly as the realization that he had partially won the monarch over finally settled in.
This will work out after all, the short Jotunn thought dazedly. After a fashion... of course, he will plot against me from now on and thus we will hold our own secrets... My identity as Loki kept secret, his true plans for me similarly held... How desperate they must be – as their Realm falls further into decline...
...you could save them...
Loki shuddered as he thought of the Casket and its mournful voice.
...even now...
No, he thought, looking about the room again, noting the hunger hiding behind the facade of vast grandeur. Even with the Casket... I would think it too late... this world, Loki told himself, is doomed.
[...having found one's place...]
[...turn one's back...]
[...put away the old, take on the new...]
[...let it perish...]
[...in silence...]
Then, breaking the following awkward, burdened silence, shattering the quiet and disrupting their thoughts, a side door well-hidden in the far wall's shadow burst open before a young Jotunn, obviously just beginning his final steps to full Jotunn adulthood, judging by the newly scabbed, still rather stunted horns and flaky scalp which was most common during molting. The short kirtle, a dark leather with silver threaded down one side and a stout silver and metal belt securing it, immediately by its very high quality, proclaimed the wearer to be, if not Royal, than Noble at least. Yet as the two giants trailing behind arrived and clustered about to look down at him in curiosity, Loki could see the similarities in their features, the family resemblance. Tall lankiness combined with hard muscle and a wide forehead with deep set eyes – the heritage of Laufey. Shorter stockiness with sensitive facial features denoting a lively, emotive intelligence – the mark of Farbauti.
Shoving down newly realized rising emotions of inadequacy, Loki wondered if within his own stunted stature could be seen any resemblance to those before him, the family, the Royal Family, supposedly his family.
Another silence.
Then:
"He is so... small!" blurted out the younger Jotunn.
"Why else is he a dvegr, lagr'hyggr," the Prince's Helblindi elbowed his younger brother.
Loki smirked, "Astute observation."
"And it speaks!"
"Why would I not speak?" Loki asked caustically, his voice rising in warning.
"Well," the young Jotunn sat then, the better to face Loki eye to eye, "the Archivist, Mage Ishko told me that, when allowed to grow of an age, the Jotunn dvegr are witless and most cannot speak and die too quickly..."
"Well, they probably died for lack of care," Loki found it rather difficult to suppress the rage rising within him at the casual acceptance of folklore with no apparent, adequate research on the matter. And they call the folks of Snjarhamr witless! He seethed. The lack of reason even here – such wilful ignorance... a crime against all thinking creatures. Thor may act the fool but at least he is willing to learn in his own fashion, albeit too slow for my liking...
Above the young Jotunn Prince's head, looks between Farbauti and Laufey were exchanged. Farbauti sent his mate a definite meaningful "I told you so" look which Loki had seen before on his mother's face when Odin was once again found at fault for some household matter. Laufey frowned, coughed and said:
"It has been an era of desolation for the Realm... too long have we been forced to eke out a dire existence from nothing. Therefore, it is no surprise that the graces other Realms may engender may not flourish here. Independence is what all younglings must achieve – what we must all carry – showing our worth to the community and carrying our own burdens. The dvegr of our Race have ever been leeches, or so 'tis said, that it is better to end their lives before such a painful existence begins – or continues."
"And yet, here I am," Loki replied blandly, "with aid. If you have need for it."
"We do not need your aid, Ulfrbarn," Helblindi bristled then. "We have no need to depend on-"
"Ahhh! Ignore 'Blindi," said the younger Jotunn, rolling his eyes. "He is stuffy all the time, trust me. I think it has to do with preparing for Kingship and the like."
"Last time we met you were but a Prince-"
"I am no King," Helblindi snapped, bridling. "Be quiet, Byla!"
"Byleistr," said "Byla". "I am your Elder, Ulfrbarn, so you must pay respect to me."
"I must, must I?"
"Of course! Yet, I am happy to meet you. I have long wished to meet you, smar'brothir."
"'Smar'brothir'?"
"'Little brother'," Farbauti spoke up then, voice heavy with emotion. "'Smar'brothir' for the young ones, 'Meir'brothir' for your elders... But of course... you would not know such familiarity..." He paused, turned his head away for a moment, obviously distressed – and then began afresh. "I am Farbauti, Consort and Fjor'fylgja of Laufey-King, and as such, some would call me Queen," here, he bared his teeth in a general approximation of a feral smile, which Loki thought looked familiar, "or wife, or even perhaps, Mother, but you may call me "Fylgja"."
"'Fylgja'," echoed Loki in a deadpan voice, recalling the memories of the other younglings who had run to their fathers, chanting 'Fyla! Fyla!' with arms outstretched.
"Or perhaps Farbauti will suffice," added the older Jotunn, kneeling on one knee and placing a gentle hand on Loki's head. "The stars shine on our meeting, I think, Little One."
"Ulfrbarn," Laufey corrected Farbauti. "That is his self-proclaimed title," he added gruffly.
And you shall know no others, Loki vowed to himself, eyeing his so-called family. Not if I have any say in it. This is not my place and any title of parentage you name yourself in relation to me has no meaning.
Loki remembered Frigga then – sharply and vividly – her hands placing a cool cloth across his aching brow, he light laughter, clear, blue eyes and the true concern she had always held for him. There was also Thor, the annoying, foolish older brother who jested with him, fought with him, fought alongside him... believed in him when no one else would. Even distant undecipherable Odin had benefited me, helped me gain what I have today... gave me a place within his home – in Asgard. And what has this so called 'Fylgja' done? As for Helblindi...
Loki smiled up coolly at his eldest sibling and watched with well-hidden glee as the Crown Prince shifted uneasily beneath his younger brother's gaze.
Byleistr was speaking again, obviously excited and not very concerned about the politics of the moment. But then, Loki thought philosophically, he is very young and no doubt well-sheltered by the kirtle of Farbauti. He will age and will change... they all do, he thought darkly of the secret of his Jotunn heritage which he had thus far concealed from Asgard thanks to his inherent abilities to shape-shift and utilize all forms of magic. Long had Thor and his warriors, Odin and Frigga and the other Mages noticed his now legendary abilities using Elvish artifacts, Dwarvish runes and the ice of the 'Frost Giants' with ease – and, while looking at Loki with something bordering on worry, they, at least in name, had accepted Loki's eccentricities. Yes. They accept me in words now – but should they discover the truth of the matter, they would reject me easily enough. In the end, Asgard and Jotunheim are no different creatures in their response to the unnatural, to the enemy...
"How long will you stay?" Farbauti was asking now.
"It - he - uh, it is staying?" Helblnidi's voice rose sharply.
"Of course," Farbauti rose then to eye his eldest child with concern. "Otherwise, your Fylgja would never have allowed us to meet."
"A short time only," Loki allowed distaste to flit over his face as he looked about the Court Hall. "Once I have attended to the matter for which I am here, I will leave you all in... peace..."
"The sooner the better," agreed Laufey.
"Then, let us get you settled in," Farbauti said briskly. "Come, let us find some quarters suitable for you. I think I know just the room!"
Thus, the Ulfrbarn returned to Jotunheim.
[...the Wind, finding its spirit again...]
[...howled tunelessly over the fields...]
[...hope had come at last...]
"Father," Helblindi's voice broke the silence of Laufey's private study as he slipped in the door and shut it behind him. "You called?"
"We need to talk."
"About the Ulfrbarn," Helblindi guessed.
"Yes. He poses a problem. Well," Laufey sighed, "that is nothing new. From the moment of his conception, that wild spirit brought me nothing but grief and even now grows complex issues with the speed of ice crystals sprouting on a still pond during a wild blizzard. Ahhh..." Laufey, pinching the bridge of his nose, shook his head. "Sit."
Helblindi obeyed quickly, knowing that his father's legendary short temper was no doubt rising to the fore as the question which the Ulfrbarn posed nagged the monarch. It bothered him as well.
"How did he..."
"I thought he died the day we forced him from my womb."
"He was..."
"Yes," Laufey shook his head. "We guessed his lack of growth was a bad sign – and so, made the decision to... remove the thing before it grew to any sort of awareness. That was our hope."
"And the – the Ulfrbarn was to have died upon removal."
"Yes."
"And he did not."
"Apparently not. Was it a soft-hearted Mage? Was it some mistake of a servant? Who can we blame? No one. No one. For many died that night within our lost citadel, Utgard, and the truth will be lost to us forever."
"Does the Ulfrbarn know?" asked Helblindi. "Does he - it - does the Ulfrbarn know what had happened?"
"No. I suppose not. Yet, according to the reports, the creature was found abandoned by a Caretaker who instead of releasing the creature, allowed it to live. Sentimentality which may slay us all. And yet... and yet..." Here, Laufey mused, hands folding before his chin in thought. "And yet, although the risks are many, there may be some use for it... to flush out discontent, to purge Jotunheim, to throw into relief all those who stand with us and against us... those you stand for you and against you, the future King of Jotunheim."
"And when you are finished," Helblindi said, mouth in a hard, flat line, "we – we just – just throw him away, Faetha? Throw him away like refuse?"
"It brings nothing but trouble and on the day you reach the Truth, you reach the Cave and hear the Truth of the matter, the Truth and the Warning which is bound to secrecy, then... then, you will understand, Helblindi. You will understand. It is for the good of Jotunheim. The good of our Realm."
"The good of Jotunheim," Helblindi echoed faintly. "For Jotunheim."
[...hope had come at last...]
[...but would it be allowed to bloom?]
He opened his eyes, blearily meeting the sight of a distant black-stone ceiling, and paused for a moment, disoriented. Instead of being greeted with the familiar wooden and stone beams of his bedroom back home in Asgard, Loki could only see faint traceries in the stone above him – simple and elegant. No heavy warmth in the air, no sweet fragrance of flowers and herbs and newly cut grass, no faint salty tang from the ocean. In this darkening realm, there was a deep silence at the heart of all things – yet, even now, there was some sign of life. The fresh scent of snow, the desolate howl of the wind carrying with it distant jarnkottr battles and the call of the grey wolves who roamed the Grarfjall Mountains which partially surrounded Gastropnir in a cold, hard embrace. An annoying clang of a loose shutter also echoed around the vast open room which Loki had been given for his "short stay" in Jotunheim.
Short is what we all want, Loki groaned as he rolled onto his other side snuggling under the furs given to him by Farbauti and the ever-ready servants. Not that I need a blanket. Loki had first thought to refuse it, but then he had acquiesced knowing that Farbauti meant well. No doubt to ease his guilt, Loki snorted, and to make up for Laufey-King's ungracious attitude.
Loki had, thus far, taken quarters in the King's Hall for a total of two Asgardian weeks – spending his days as carefully as may be while attempting to find the answers he sought on his own. Everyday produced its own particular challenges, yet so far, Loki had risen to meet them all, finding in this once familiar, now foreign, land, a new kind of rhythm to life.
Mornings were filled with quick planning, mentally listing what he hoped to achieve for the day ahead. With care, Loki groomed himself each day, knowing that others watched him with a close eye. Combed his short, dark hair, tamed its unruly curls and pressed it back with oils and other potions which he had packed. Thor would have laughed – had laughed before – at how fastidious Loki was. How quickly he had learned to charm himself a mirror out of water, the better to transport himself, yes – and also in aid of the younger Prince's daily ablutions when on a quest. Jotunn, thanks to their diet, biology and lifestyle, did not depend upon the various cosmetic habits encouraged by other Realms – brushing one's teeth, applying creams to one's face and such-like.
That, however, doesn't necessarily apply to me – Loki sighed, making sure that his face was properly washed as well as his now usually bared torso. His kirtle (gifted to him by Farbauti) – a leather and silver affair similar to that of Byleistr's – needed to be spotless and his wolf cloak well-kept. Every night, with the aid of some light warming charms (to raise the temperature of the water from freezing to merely cool), Loki took a bath which most Jotunn only took once a week. If that.
The land of barbarians, Loki's lip curled derisively as he made his way down to the Feast Hall for the early breakfast which was served every morning. Here, things were similar and yet different to Asgard's daily feasting habits. It was an ear-deafening affair – bustling and a little disorganized and the worst way, Loki thought, to begin one's day, really. However, unlike Asgardian breakfast, Laufey's Court enjoyed, of course, cooler fare – uncooked or lightly cooked or smoked eel and fish with ice cordials, lukewarm sea-creature stews and other grain-based foods, such as the brown-grain bread and black-bread rolls.
Loki always left the breakfast table early, rushing off straightaway to the Royal Archives, where he researched steadily until lunch was served. Some days, he would not emerge for the mid-day meal, preferring to snack on any extras he packed away from the breakfast table. However, at some point in the early afternoon, or mid-way through it, Byleistr or Farbauti (or both) would inevitably come to drag him away that he might "take rest" among Laufey-King's court.
Rest, it was not. There, Loki stayed perforce – hunting, playing various games or taking part in activities, gossiping, ignoring the blatant whispers about his size, attire or manners which went on about him – in short, politicking. This was an arena in which Loki had become familiar with over time at the Mage's Court and then in Odin All-Father's Court.
Still, one might have an affinity, Loki sighed, looking about the large feasting hall one night, but sometimes, it can get just a little dull and a part of you just wants to let chaos loose and watch the world burn...
Yes, the darker side of him whispered, show them you really are...
...WHO YOU REALLY ARE...
...listen not, beloved, to the lies...
...listen not...
Ahhh... Loki mentally groaned to himself while forcing his smile to grow wider as Byleistr leaned forward. The possibilities are endless and thus it is difficult to decide...
This evening, like any other, there was the usual intermingling of nobles, officials and Royals. Some days, there were other meetings he was allowed to attend (as if they really respected his uncertain position within the Court) and other affairs which demanded a certain amount of finesse. Dinner was no different – an intricate dance of accepting back-handed compliments, dealing with hidden threats or insults and ensuring one's safety. Usually, Loki would attempt to slip away yet again to continue his research or Meerauk and his name. Some nights, he was successful, after which he would then slip back to his room and collate his notes. Some nights Byleistr accompanied him to do his own research and they would end up with sharp debates on Jotunn philosophy, historical veracity of tales, the origins of magick and Inter-Realm politicks. Some nights, he was not able to escape, which resulted in long, mind-numbing evenings fending off insults and questions. Unlike his usual habits in Odin All-Father's Hall, Loki would only perform a few workings and never did he show his abilities to tell a tale. Instead, he spent most of his time listening to what the others said of each other.
Always, he heard the whispers.
The whisperings...
"That he is allowed to stay-"
"The For-Eldra should have welcomed him long ago..."
"It is his workings, his abilities, that is what-"
"Ah. That is a fair point-"
"You saw what he did on one of the farms beyond the city-"
"That really happened?"
"Magick? Bah! Tomfoolery, mark my words-"
"A trick?"
"No doubt."
"It is wishful thinking-"
"I had thought Laufey to be ageing – but surely not to give into witlessness so easily-"
"Perhaps it is time-"
"Helblindi is, after all, quite capable."
Of these conversations, Loki said nothing, storing them away with other nuggets of information he had gleaned. How the people groaned under the burden of their Realm's slow death. How eking one's existence was all but impossible. How Laufey's reign was undermined slowly by the lack of confidence within the Jotunn as the Realm inevitably fell into ruin.
As if the loss of the Casket is one Giant's fault, Loki shook his head in disgust. But then, he mused, remembering Shax's, Farfin's and the Mages' punishments heaped upon his head, more often than not from frustration over Thor. People like a scapegoat...
How Helblindi was viewed as a break from tradition – not being a True Heir – and thus representing a new era of hope for the desperate Jotunn. Although he shows no sign of real affinity for magick, much less the Realm's Spirit or the flow of Life itself, Yggrdrasil.
How the small, but obstinate, branch of traditionalists had more than once offered compliments to the Ulfrbarn, referring to his continued presence as a "gift of the For-Eldra". Loki had a difficult time trying to figure out if they wished him to supplant Laufey-King as the True Heir (something he was loath to do) – or wished him dead (since traditionally, he was a burden and a curse).
Not that they haven't tried, Loki grimaced as one of his fingers subtly twisted in an Elvish sigil. He murmured over his cup of ice cordial, looking for any trace of poison. One night, he had made the mistake of not being as careful and, as usual, one of the less important (therefore, favour-seeking) officials had tainted his drink. Upon realization, Loki had slipped away and purged himself – a tedious, painful and bitter affair. Spending one's entire evening, hanging over one's privy, hoping no one noticed what had happened, was the not the best way one could spend one's time. From that time onward, Loki's paranoia mounted. However, it was only a matter of time, he knew, before one of the vainglorious fools of Laufey-King's Court would make the mistake of calling him out. Loki was ready for it. They will regret it, Loki vowed, setting his jaw as he glanced about the room warily. When it happens.
Three weeks after his arrival, Loki's premonition was realized one evening during the post-main course drinks and finger food, which consisted of more mead and cordials alongside imported fruit and soft, tasteless bread. Just as he was reaching for another apple to cut, a lightly inebriated Jotunn sauntered up to the table casually and waved a half-full stone-carved pint in his large fist.
"Long-live the Half-Wit!" He roared with a smile. "May the For-Eldra be spared his presence that much longer-"
The Hall, uncharacteristically, fell dead silent in a matter of seconds. Only the barest of a whisper echoed as everyone froze and turned in blatant curiosity to see what the Jotunn dwarf would say. Noticing the smirks of the Jotunn about him, Loki felt his spark of anger burst into wild flame. Loki, under normal circumstances, would have laughed it off, would have told a witty joke at the expense of the Jotunn before him –
Would have. Could have. Should have.
With lethal grace, Loki rose in his over-sized chair, standing on the wooden box offered him to bring him higher to the table's edge. Without a word, he whipped his left hand upward, flinging a large shard of ice which had easily formed to his hand against the right shoulder of the Jotunn – and glared. Cold and clear, Loki's voice filled the spaces of silence, bringing the room into a deeper hush as the other Jotunn just began to gain an inkling, slowly admit that this creature, whatever the Ulfrbarn was, was above all Royalty.
"Tomorrow morn, let us meet then on the Ice Field of Korovasi. Be prepared to meet the For-Eldra yourself, lagr'hyggr."
With that, Loki lifted his chin in a contemptuous jerk, sat down and gave no sign of paying any further heed to the disrespectful Jotunn before him. The official looked blank – stunned – for all of five seconds before giving a confident, booming laugh and turning away. Loki smirked to himself. Confidently he goes to his death an-
Loki's darkly gleeful ruminations were cut short as his arm was jerked up painfully – Byleistr had grabbed hold of him roughly, ignoring the jabs of ice which instantly descended upon his less tough hide as he hauled off the now wildly, yet silently, struggling Ulfrbarn.
"Byleistr!" Farbauti was not following hard on his younger child's heels. "What in Helheim do you think you are doing?"
"Let me go!" Loki hissed viciously, dragging into the back of Byleistr's hand with one of his daggers.
"We need to talk-OW!" Byleistr dropped Loki unceremoniously on the ground having finally reached a quiet passageway.
"Talk about what?" snapped Loki, rising to his feet and dusting himself off.
"What you just did in there!"
"What I just did?"
"Stop being obstinate, lagr'hyggr!" Byleistr growled now understanding Helblindi's feelings all those years. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"
"What? The duel? I-"
"It is holmganga, Ulfrbarn – and it is insanity for you to – to-"
"I can take care of myself-"
"You are tiny! Fragile! So easily trampled upon. You would not survive-"
"He is right," Farbauti sighed quietly. "I would not have wished this on you, Little One."
"Why he fell for that is beyond me."
That was Helblindi. Loki sighed. This is just... great... just great. And look – Laufey is here as well to round out this, oh so friendly, session. Looking unhappy too. As usual. Unhappy and a little too hopeful for my liking...
"Official Kortha is a power-hungry-"
"Peace, Farbauti," Laufey said calmly. "The Ulfrbarn brought it upon itself-"
"Ha!" Loki snored. "As if I could let that insult pass. Not just to me – but also the For-Eldra-"
"You don't care about the For-Eldra-"
"No, I do not, Helblindi," Loki agreed, "but he annoyed me. It is as good a reason as any other."
"The truth then-"
"Laufey, beloved, he cannot win-"
"Fylgja!" Byleistr pleaded. "You know what will hap-"
"It is out of my hands-"
"I can take care of mys-"
"Silence, lagreinn," Laufey growled.
"I will not be silent when-"
"Hush, Little One," Farbauti said quickly. "We will get you out of this-"
"We will do nothing of the sort," Laufey disagreed.
"Fylgja!" Byleistr rose even higher with shock, cracking a little from the stress.
"Fylgja is right," Helblindi shook his head. "You know it as well, Faetha!"
At this, Farbauti sighed, nodded, his figure obviously deflated as his shoulders slumped. Rubbing his hand over his face, the King's Consort sagged against the passageway's wall and sighed again. Laufey laid a hand on Farbauti's shoulder and squeezed it in silent comfort.
"The Ulfrbarn will fight," the King said with a certain amount of grimness.
"But he may not lose," Loki gritted out, finally able to get his words out.
"No – no-" Byleistr backed away, horrified before fleeing further down the passage and disappearing around the corner.
Loki turned and raised an eyebrow in silent question about Byleistr's uncharacteristic outburst. Farbauti smiled sadly, recognizing that look from Laufey and just shook his head.
"He was bullied as a child," Helblindi finally replied, voice heavy and not a little sad. "His first holmganga – did not go... well... with him."
"And he fears for me," Loki murmured.
"Yes, he was always a little... strange..."
"He need not worry. I said it before and I will say it again-"
"Holmganga is-"
"The Ulfrbarn knows what it has invoked full well," Laufey interrupted Farbauti again with a hard glance. "You saw the ice dagger, you saw the ritual carefully followed. The creature understands – and no doubt, it will survive somehow, having that annoying staying power with which all leeches are gifted."
"He endured far worse in the Utanheim," Helblindi pointed out.
"Well that may be but-"
"No buts," Laufey repeated firmly. "I have a feeling..." Here Laufey gave Loki a hard look. "I have a feeling that, like the pernicious wolf and all wild things with whom it belongs, the Ulfrbarn will somehow maintain its miserable existence. Come, Helblindi."
With that, Laufey and Helblindi returned to the hall. Yet, Farbauti remained, saying nothing and making no movement.
"I declared it," Loki said finally, finding himself to be the unwilling comforter of the savages who had abandoned him as a child. "The rules of engagement are mine..."
The words are hollow. Unconvincing. Farbauti did not stir, so Loki went in search of Bylesitr. After checking Byleistr's two favourite "thinking spots", Loki turned to the library – and sure enough, he found the young Jotunn in the Archive's open balcony which overlooked the city. There he brooded, sitting on the ground and looking out into the night. Lowering himself, Loki took a spot besides the quiet Jotunn and allowed his relatively short legs to dangle over the edge next to Byleistr's. Nothing was said for a long time – each buried in his own thoughts (Loki planning, Byleistr obviously worrying) and content to just be. The moon was high in the night sky before Byleistr gave a noisy exhale and said haltingly:
"What if you die?"
"I will not die," Loki battled down rising annoyance. Why do they not listen to me? Why does no one listen to me? Still... better not alienate my only supporter before an upcoming battle.
"But what if you do?"
"I will not."
"But what if – WHAT IF?!"
Loki sighed then, rubbing his face wearily before leaning against the nearest railing pole.
"I will not. And if I do... if I do... I will join the branches of Yggdrasil and-"
"You will go to the For-Eldra-"
"Valhalla."
"Valhalla," Byleistr huffed derisively. "Valhalla indeed. What are you – Asgardian?"
"Either way," Loki smiled to himself, "I will die and become part of a larger Truth."
"You do not carry a death wish, do you, Smar'brothir?" Byleistr asked then, voice rough with concern.
"I – I-" Loki turned the question over and over in his mind. "I have always walked closely with Death, I suppose... Always it has been at my side. You know how I was discovered as a babe?"
Byleistr mutely shook his head, red eyes wide.
"El – the one who took me in – Elska, the Caretaker of the Gothahus..." Loki let out a rattling breath as he shoved down the ache of loss which rose at the memory of the rough kindness that was Elska. "He – he once told me he found me in the embrace of Death – covered in swathes of blood and ice. A child of war. A child of loss... and since then, life has been... hard. Hard at times, yet still, somehow, like a leech," Loki thought bitterly of Laufey's words, of how he never quite fulfilled the hopes of his owners, Farfin's expectations, the Mage's standards or the Asgardian warrior's code, "I struggle on. An arrogant thing, perhaps."
"I am glad," Byleistr laid a hand on Loki's shoulder. "Ulfrbarn brought hope and my little brother brought knowledge and speaks of deep things with me. I am glad you could come... and I dread the day you leave, fear the day of Death's embrace... Do not be so hasty nor so flippant with what life has given you..."
"I will not," Loki replied quietly. "I do not. Have faith in my abilities, Byla..." He hesitated, then grinned viciously up at Byleistr, "for they are many – and devastating – I promise."
"Hmmm..." Byleistr was not entirely convinced but he said no more – and so they parted, Loki returning to his rooms to prepare for the holmganga.
His first holmganga. Loki grinned. They will not be expecting this... ah, Thor... He sighed. It is a pity you were not here to see this.
So... Loki's gotten into trouble. Again. LOL.
Tell me whatcha think~!
Couple of things...
1. Feel free to stop by my kakashidiot tumblr to read my thoughts on Thor: The Dark World and etc. Also on my profile are links to my original fics which you can read~
2. Update in a week or so.
3. Side Story has been updated to show the newest previewed side story on culture shock and Loki in Asgard...
4. A new reviewer-only side-story preview will be sent out in a week or two: "A Day With Elska".
See ya round~
-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
Drakka Thyod – Dragon Race
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"
Fiendfyre – a phoenix-firebird
Flauguna – flying feet/teleportation
fotr'ro - footstool
Ginnung – the Void
harhvila - high bed
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
Cebir-Gondlug – Spike-Stone Dragon
Am'loce Norie – Dragon Race
raudhaust – high bed
Jotunheim Glossary:
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place
Arlang'leith – the Annual Caravan
Atfirth – energies
blakkrbjorr – black beer
Blakkrbjorn – black bear
blakkrgras – black grass
blargras – blue grass
Dagaheim
dvegr – dwarf
dyrspeki – zoologist
Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)
Faetha'snaer - "Mother", "who births the snow"
fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection
Fjor'fylgja – Life Mate
Flara River – Treacherous River
For-Eldra – Ancestors
Forn Vegr – Old Ways
Fylgja'snaer - "Father", "who aids the snow"
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
heithrsker – crystal flowers
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)
lagr'hyggr – fool
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War
luthrblom – trumpet flower
manisilfr – moonsilver
Meir'brothir – Older Brother
melrakki – white fox
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest
Nattura – spirits
Northri Stjarna – North Star
silvralmr – silver elm
silvrfiskr – silver fish
Sithr Efingi – True Heir
Skalldi
skordyr – Jotunheim goat
Smar'brothir – Younger Brother
snaerharra – snow rabbit
Storrholl – Great Hall
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