Summary:Capital Craft Mining was a well-established mining company, owned by Brynjolf, the revered and respected. In winter, they work; in summer, they sell. It was a profitable business for all involved. However, a mining accident leaves a small band of them fearing for their lives as the dust settles in their lungs and the fears grow like algae. The events that follow lead the group to discover a brand new resource that would change their fates forever…
A/N:I promised you’d get the first chapter of the Tower 2 today, until I realised I still hadn’t finished Brynjolf’s backstory. Whoops! Ah well, that means you lucky buggers are getting three consecutive posts. I’m queuing them, but there’ll be there. :3 Enjoy!
Brynjolf awoke with a start the next morning. The sun was high overhead and a few of the lads were pottering around camp: cleaning ash from the campfire, washing dishes, keeping watch. Truly, in that waking moment, Bryn couldn’t have felt prouder. A near death experience and still they soldiered on.
“Someone’s asking for you,” a Vasir woman said with a smile as she lifted a heavy log of firewood from her back and set it down over the old kindling. “He’s awake?” “So I’m told.”
“Hey boss,” Oris mumbled, the left side of his mouth not quite keeping up with the right. The scar on his face looked a lot better in the morning light. Less enflamed.
“Hey there, kiddo. How’re you feelin’?”
Apparently, not well. The second he was asked, Oris’ eyes seemed to glaze over. He licked his lips nervously and tried to sit up. “Woah, woah,” Brynjolf chuckled, holding him down and adjusting the sheet over his legs. “Where do ye’ think you’re scurryin’ off to?” “The mines, I have to-” “What?” “The mines, Bryn, we have to seal them up.”
Brynjolf insisted that Oris lie down again, slow down, explain what happened. Reluctantly, the boy obliged. That look in his eyes… It was like he’d aged a decade overnight. “I can’t explain it, Brynjolf. That stuff? It was more than just an explosive. I couldn’t sense anything whilst I was under. It was… worsethan being unconscious. It felt like I’d died and come back. Cold as a corpse, I bet.”
Swallowing thickly, Brynjolf scratched the back of his neck. He’d been rolling round and groaning for days, but hadn’t known anything of it? That was… worrisome, to say the least. “We’ll cover it up,” Oris stammered, “right, boss? We won’t let this stuff get out?”
In his mind’s eyes, Brynjolf was thinking about the pestle and mortar from last night. He’d buried the powder, sure, but he’d still toyed with the idea of using the stuff. Even after seeing what it had done to Oris. There was no debating any longer. This stuff had to be hidden away. “You betcha breeches,” he smiled, patting the boy’s hand. “Ain’t nobody gonna know about this stuff except us, I promise; nobody else getting’ hurt.”
This seemed to relax Oris and his youthful side promptly returned to him as he lay his head down and smiled. “You just rest up, ye’ hear? We’ll have you back in the fray in no time.”
Before Brynjolf could up and leave, however, Oris sat up again. “Can I get some food?”
Bryn smiled warmly. The boy was going to be fine.
With a freshly cleaned bowl in his hand, Brynjolf whistled as he wandered towards the campfire. Hopefully there was still some soup from last night ready and waiting. Sure enough, the bowl was still hung over the ashen pit, despite having long gone cold.
That was not the only thing to catch his eye, however. As he walked past the log pit he’d sat on the night before, he noticed the disturbed soil. Dug up. And empty. The powder would’ve been useless once it mixed with the soil but… to three idiots who didn’t know the first thing about alchemy, it would be a starting guide. The Idiot’s Guide to Making Explosives.
Brynjolf dropped the bowl. Immediately, he began yelling demands as he marched towards the mouth of the caves. “You there, I want a count of this morning’s Anaesthesium, and I want it compared to yesterdays.” “Yes boss!”
Of course, he didn’t need the count to know what had happened. The tunnel down to the Bangstone had already been boarded up. Shoddily. Like someone was trying to make a quick getaway. The Vasir woman from earlier, Sareash, jogged to his side, a little out of breath but red in the face for other reasons also. “Boss, there’s… there’s been a development.” “They’ve robbed some of our Anaesthesium?” “Y-Yes, I– How did you know?” “Because I gave ‘em the idea. The fucking bastards.”
Sareash looked a little taken aback. “Sorry, Bryn, but I don’t understand.” “You don’t need to yet. Gather everyone together. I wants a word with ‘em all.”
The notice that Brynjolf wanted to speak to the entire staff spread quickly; nobody liked Brynjolf in a bad mood. This was in part due to their love and respect for him. After all, whoever was despicable enough to upset Brynjolf deserved a thousand deaths. However, it was also partly because nobody had ever truly seen Brynjolf enraged before. ‘Twas such a rare occurrence that it was entirely justified for people to fear the consequences of it.
However, when Brynjolf stoof in front of his people, clad in armour and apparently prepared to leave them, he spoke with a solemnity and calm. To a few, that was even more worrying. They’d have preferred him to shout and scream.
“…yet despite my warnings, despite the deaths of the friends, and despite the turmoil inflicted upon one of our own–“ Brynjolf locked eyes with Oris, who was watching and listening from the bedroll that had been moved to the fireside, “–they stole the bread from our tables anyway. They seek to hurt people, to sell to those who would hurt people, despite what they may say about the Anaesthesium’s effects.”
A few of the crowd shuffle uncomfortably. After all, Qilto, Safrat, and Araloic were friends to many of them – or so they thought. “Any of ye’ who wants into that business is welcome to leave Capital Craft Mining right now, and have a headstart on me catching ‘em.”
Nobody moved a muscle.
This settled the anger in Brynjolf’s heart a notch. “Tha’s alright then. Means the bad eggs are few and far between.”
Bowing his head, Brynjolf let his shoulders slump and his expression soften. “This… This is my fault, lads, so I’m gonna fix it. However I can. You ‘ave me word.” Oris watched him with a soft expression that was a mixture of concern and adoration. Bryn couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye again. To think that someone else might end up in a worse state than that poor boy, because of him? That wasn’t something he intended to let his conscience bare.
“Sareash, they’re all yours.” “I’ll be back when I catch these fuckers, or when I’m out of food. One or the other.”
And just like that, he was gone. Hard on the trail of those who’d betrayed him, Brynjolf couldn’t have guessed how much more the fates had in store for him.
The sun peeked over the horizon, spilling orange and gold into the bedroom. You didn’t realise it was possible for Brynjolf’s hair to look even more like fire. “So… t-there ye’ have it. I wanted to… make peace with it. With you.”
You frowned and wrung the nightshirt between your hands. Conflicted wasn’t half of what you were feeling. Yet he kept talking. “It was my people who found that stuff, it was my people who robbed from me, but worse than that… it was I who made them bombs that– that did ye’ wrong.”
Loki had listened for as long as he was able, but ultimately he’d passed out on the bedspread, leaving you and Bryn to talk alone. The two of you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, close and across from each other, meaning you couldn’t avoid the look of worry in his eyes as it was cast upon you.
“I… I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you said. Brynjolf didn’t believe you – and he was right not to. The look on your face did little to quell him of the concerns that you were holding him accountable. Of course, you were completely within your right to do so, even if it would break his heart.
“This’ll, uh, take some time to sink in, I wager,” he said with a brisk smile. When you didn’t reply, he placed his hands on his knees and stood up. He’d reached the bedroom door when you called out for him to wait.
You approached him tentatively, before bending down and pulling him into one of his own spine-crushing hugs (or, at least, your best impression of one). “I… I don’t understand,” he said once he’d been released. “You saved my life.” “But-” “And I’m not talking about when you found me by the waterfall. Yes, that still counts, but everything after that does too. You stayed with me in case Loki had ulterior motives–” As if on cue, Loki snored loudly, and you winced, before trying to cover a grin with your hand. Bryn rolled his eyes at your partner, “–and you found us food when neither could leave the Tower. You risked everything to rescue me from my village, you followed me all the way to the capital city to make sure I was alright… You gave me a family when I had none left.”
Clearing his throat, Brynjolf rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. He wasn’t crying, of course. He just had… itchy eyes. A very common condition amongst dwarves, actually. Very, very common. Completely undocumented, but very common. You gave him a watery smile and laughed lightly.
“I don’t care about the circumstances that brought us together, Bryn. I care about everything after, and you’ve more than made up for it.” “Really?” “Of course! What, did you think I wouldn’t be able to forgive my dad?”
Brynjolf was still rubbing his eyes and chuckled more than once. “You’re a good’un, lady, you know that?” “Stop worrying so much,” you said warmly, bending over and planting a kiss on his cheek. “That’s my job.”
After a curt sigh, Bryn patted your cheek and apologised for keeping you up to lament. You dismissed his worries immediately, telling him that if he was so worried, he ought to go to bed himself. Reluctantly, he agreed and bid you a good… Well, a good morning. It really had been a long and arduous night for everybody. Somehow, though, you hoped it might have been worth it.
Once you’d shut the bedroom door, you turned around, stretching – to find Loki sat upright on the bed. “You called him your dad,” he said bluntly. You scowled. “Iknewyou weren’t sleeping! What, did you think there’d be more secrets shared if we thought you weren’t listening?”
“Don’t change the topic,” he continued, never taking his eyes off of you as the bed covers were lifted and you slipped inside. “You called him dad.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki, now please. I want to sleep.”
Loki rolled his eyes and relented – for now. This wouldn’t be something he’d forget easily, if at all. Least of all because he knew what paternal figures meant to you both. However, for the time being, he’d let you have your sleep, because… Well, because he knew what paternal figures meant to you both.
“I love you so much,” he said, pressing the lightest of kisses against the shoulder closest to him. “Sweet dreams, love of mine.”
And so, the two of you finally found peace in the comfort of the night. Of course, there was trouble in both of your minds that would not dissipate as easily as in your dreams, but for that singular solitary moment, the world was quiet and all was well. That was how you wished it to stay. And that was how it ought to stay.
After all, there were no longer villains afoot, secrets being kept, and dangers to vanquish. Nothing could possibly go wrong from this moment on…
Summary:Capital Craft Mining was a well-established mining company, owned by Brynjolf, the revered and respected. In winter, they work; in summer, they sell. It was a profitable business for all involved. However, a mining accident leaves a small band of them fearing for their lives as the dust settles in their lungs and the fears grow like algae. The events that follow lead the group to discover a brand new resource that would change their fates forever…
A/N:I promised you’d get the first chapter of the Tower 2 today, until I realised I still hadn’t finished Brynjolf’s backstory. Whoops! Ah well, that means you lucky buggers are getting three consecutive posts. I’m queuing them, but there’ll be there. :3 Enjoy!
Oris had been in and out of sleep for quite some time. Grunting. Whimpering. Every so often, when he rolled the wrong way, pain bit at his brain like a dog had clamped its jaws round his head. Teeth sunk into his skull and sent tendrils of frightful nightmares coursing through his mind’s eye. When he felt a pair of bracing hands behind his skull, however, the dog relented.
Brynjolf was careful when adjusting the pack behind the sleeping boy’s head. He’d been sweating for hours, moaning and softly whining in his comatose state. The nasty wound on his temple had all but healed, a terrific scar now stretching from his cheek upwards. It didn’t look good, but at least he was alive.
Qilto – one of the older recruits, an Asgardian – looked up from his meal when he noticed that Brynjolf had once again left to play nurse. He was a baby-faced fellow, large brown eyes and black hair in a small bun. “How is he?” asked he to his boss, a mouthful of bread distorting his words. “He’ll live, I should think,” was his reply. Brynjolf finished mithering, wiped his hands on his trousers, and joined his friends by the hearth.
Strangely, the heat from the fire felt different to that of the sweaty, sticky caves under the earth. It seemed calming and inviting. Comforting. It stole away the shiver from their bones and softened the frantic beating of their hearts. To think they’d been so close to death… Qilto and Brynjolf were joined by two more Asgardian recruits; all others had chosen their bedrolls over nourishment. Safrat (Saf to anybody he wasn’t in trouble with) and Araloic. They too slurped hungrily at the hastily made broth in their bowls. It had been a troubling day; even the hardest of stomachs were now hungry.
For a while, they simply talked. All men were grateful to have company, and just for that moment, all seemed right with the world. The gentle hum of bugs in the bushes; a playful wind kissing their cheeks.
When the conversation died down a bit, Brynjolf rolled his shoulders stretched. He’d been working on a little… side-project since they’d emerged from the mines that day. He wasn’t sure if it would come to anything as he picked up the pestle and mortar by his feet, but curiosity had overwhelmed him.
“Whatcha got there, boss?” Saf suddenly said, cutting his previous conversation in two. Safrat was a wiry man, with a fuzzy grey beard and silver hair to match. A severe underbite gave him the appearance of a man without sense, but this could not have been further from the truth. “I’m not sure yet,” Bryn replied with a shrug. “Nothing at the minute.”
That part was the truth. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at currently. What he’d neglected to share was that he knew what it used to be. Anaesthesium, crushed to a fine powder and mixed with the newly discovered mineral, which he’d started calling Bangstone. He’d collected some samples after he’d passed Oris’ body up through the tunnel to freedom. No harm in looking, right? It was only research.
A few minutes later and Brynjolf was happy that he’d finished, even if he wasn’t sure what he’d made. “Do you know what it is yet?” Qilto chuckled. Brynjolf grimaced. “I know what I was wantin’ it to be, but I don’t know if it’ll work.” “Well, what did you want it to be?”
Brynjolf scratched his bearded chin. “Well, it’s… it’s that stuff we found down there. The… The Bangstone.” “Bangstone?” Saf and Araloic snickered. “You’s two got a better name? It’s the Bangstone and some Anaesthesium. I figured if I could get the stuff into some sort of container, we could use it around the borders of the camp. Keep the wildlings at bay without ‘em getting killed.”
Qilto raised an eyebrow, and slowly turned to his friends. If the look in their eyes was anything to go on, they’d thought the same thing as him. “Boss… Can I make a suggestion?” “Course.”
“That’s a bit of a soft approach, ain’t it?” “Soft?” Brynjolf recoiled. “I ain’t soft!” “No, no, we’s not saying you’resoft. We’re just saying you could do one better.” “Such as?”
After a few shifty looks and a few toes in the soil, Araloic finally spoke up. “Boss, you could see that to mercs for quite the price.”
“What? Mercs?” “Think about it,” Qilto cut in, shuffling closer with his hand outstretched, fully prepared to explain. “We could double our asking price; double our profits!”
Laughter was not the response they’d anticipated but it was one they got nonetheless. “Firstly,” Brynjolf said, wiping away a tear, “I don’t think you fellas understand the maths enough. Doubling what we ask don’t double our profits if we’re doin’ twice the work to make something.”
They couldn’t ask for that. Safrat glared at Qilto a little for not thinking things all the way through. “Secondly, have you got rocks for brains or did you not see how dangerous that stuff was?” As if on cue, Oris began to groan in his sleep again. Qilto bowed his head ashamedly. “Some of us died today, another barely survived, and all yous lot can think of is the profits to be made off the shite that did it.”
“Don’t you run a business?” Safrat growled, displeased by the callous insult. Brynjolf frowned. “I does, yeah. But I don’t run it on the blood of peoples.” “Oh come on,” Qilto continued. He stood up suddenly, hoping to make his point a little more dramatically. “Every time we go down there, we’s riskin’ our necks, Bryn. What’s a little more risk?”
“I wasn’t on about your blood,” Brynjolf said lowly.
Qilto paced a little before flopping onto ground at his friends’ feet. He was sulking, and was doing nothing to hide it. Oris’ groaning in the distance grew louder, and turned Brynjolf’s head.
“We start selling bombs to people and the bodies line up,” he said, standing up and kicking a hole into the soil with his boot. He promptly poured the powder inside and covered it up again. “Anaesthesium or no, we ain’t doin’ it. And that’s final.”
Summary: The war between Asgard and Vanaheim had not plagued the realms for many years. However, when the crown princess of the latter is thrown into an Asgardian prison for a crime she did not commit, tensions arise once more. She is forced to think quickly in order to save her people and theirs from needless slaughter. The solution? An arranged marriage. To the Odinson of her choice.
A/N: Yoooo, so I’ve got a rough plan for the plot of this one; it’s a short-ish series. However, as for an ending? A.K.A. whether she ends up with Thor or Loki? That’s completely up in the air. I’ll let you guys decide nearer to the time, me thinks. In the meantime, enjoy!
‘Between a Rock’ (Part 1)
The sun beat down upon the polished stonework. Loki’s heels clicked upon them as he perused the marketplace – or rather, as he perused the people perusing the marketplace. So fascinating. They would flit like magpies to the nearest shiny object; squawks of sales and discounts calling out to them and beckoning.
Food; jewellery; clothing; even bejewelled daggers. To be honest, the stall with the bejewelled daggers had caught his eye more than once. He found himself being beckoned yet again as he walked, though distracted as had he become that he walked into someone.
Their person hit his shoulder hard, seemingly oblivious to his presence and consequently oblivious to the necessity for an apology. He turned for a moment to watch, aghast. He made note of the woman who hit him. The colour of her hair. The style of her dress. Her conduct. Her manner of walking. The shape of her shoulders… Shaking his head, Loki thought little of it for a second. Nobility, for sure. A higher status of those around her – except him, of course.
After a smug little smirk, Loki shrugged, turned away, and continued with his afternoon…
The sunny weather persisted for several hours as Loki completed his rounds. He reached the edge of the market walkway, picked an apple from a tree, and turned around. He leant back against the trunk of the tree, which was encircled by a small mosaic patio and shrubbery.
His teeth sunk into the crisp flesh of the apple, crunching pleasantly. As he did so, he noticed an even more pleasant event taking place. Chaos. The throes of commotion. Beautiful mischief at play. He took another bite of his apple and stepped closer towards it. The crowd parted, almost on cue, as he neared.
Familiar hair colour. Familiar dress. Familiar conduct. The woman from earlier that day was amidst it, in the arms of palace soldiers, oddly enough. “Unhand me,” she demanded. “How dare you grab me this w– Let goof me!” The market vendor was stood a few feet away, her arms folded and her expression dower. “I’m telling you, officers. I’m missing several necklaces from my stand that were there a minute ago.” “Interesting accusations. Did you actually see me pilfer them?” “I don’t need to. They’re in your bag.”
The soldiers shared a look and nodded at one another. Loki scoffed and chuckled. There was only a moment’s hesitation before the taller of the two men grabbed the strap of the bag on your shoulder. “Howdareyou! I am innocent, and you will find nothing in there. I swear you will suffer the consequences. That is my personal property. Unlawful apprehension of a-”
Sure enough, the guards lifted shimmering gold and silver. Diamonds. Pearls. All of it reflecting the expression of horror on your face. “Well, this is just ridiculous. I’ve been framed. A scapegoat. I-” “Save it,” muttered the guard gruffly. “You’re under arrest for theft.” “Are you joking?”
Loki raised an eyebrow. The way they began to drag her away, kicking and screaming, looked pretty serious to him. “There’s no way I did this! Please, someone must’ve seen something. I’m innocent! Innocent, I say. You will hear from my father.”
Loki chuckled at that. He took another, final, bite to the apple before tossing it aside. There was a certain young lad amongst the crowd who looked especially unnerved by all the proceedings, with whom he wanted a conversation…
Loki couldn’t quite say what drew him to the prison cell. Curiosity. Boredom. Amusement. All of the above. Either way, he descended the staircase with his hands clasped behind his back. He could hear you calling from your cell. “Hello? Can anybody hear me? Please, I just want to contact-” “Your father?” Loki answered as he rounded the corner and appeared in view.
“Ugh, finally,” you huffed, standing up straight and placing your hands in front of your abdomen. “What are you? The night guard or something?” Loki smiled and dipped his head. Well, let’s see, it’s still early evening and I’m also Loki, the son of Odin. So, to answer your question, no. I’m not the night guard.” “O-Oh,” you stammered. “The son of Odin. I see.”
“But that’s not what is important,” he continued. “I want to know who youare.” “I beg your pardon?” “Oh, please. ‘My father will hear about this’? How many people have used that line?” “I imagine a few, if you’re questioning me about it.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed. For the second time that day, he examined you. The colour and style of your hair. The style and material of your dress. Your conduct and countenance. The shape of your shoulders and even your collarbone… “Plenty of people use it. Something about you, however, tells me that there’s actually some substance behind it. That you do in fact have a father with whom you could call in a favour.”
Biting your lip, you turned away and began to pace. “Yes, I’ll admit… I wasn’t watching my tongue in that moment. It lacked sense. I shouldn’t have revealed my hand so easily.” “So what is it? A duke? A councilman? A wealthy merchant?”
“A king, actually,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Vanaheim. My father is the king of Vanaheim.”
Loki felt something stick in his throat. It was only small, but he felt a small bead of moisture above his brow. Vanaheim was once at war with Asgard, fierce rivals of the Aesir that lived in the latter realm. Despite having put their differences aside, their relationship had been… fragile. And Asgard had just thrown one of Vanaheim’s crown princesses behind bars.
“W-Why not declare yourself sooner? Request an emissary or an envoy?” “And make a grand deal of the whole thing? Be offered countless somethings for nothing just because of who I am and who my family is? Please. I came here to be a tourist. Not an ambassador for my people.” “Very well,” Loki said a little callously. “Then you can suffer a tourist’s punishment for theft.”
“That implies I have some sort of culpability,” you quipped, raising a well-manicured eyebrow. “However, I continue to insist that I am innocent. Why will nobody listen when I say this? I cannot explain how those items ended up in my possession, but I certainly did not put them there.”
Loki began to tap his chin thoughtfully. “IsupposeI could look into it…”
You frowned. “Oh,thank you, your royal highness.”
“I would not be so glib towards the man who might become responsible for your release.” You scoffed and turned your gaze upwards, folding your arms. Before either of you could submit another remark, the doors to the prisons burst open; Thor descended the staircase, two steps at a time. His cape billowed behind him. “Ofcourse we will look into this, your highness.” Loki rolled his eyes and immediately spun around, striding towards his brother with haste. “I don’t doubt that there is a reasonable explanati-” Loki grabbed his brother’s ear and hauled him back up the staircase.
Once the doors had slid shut, Thor voiced his understandable confusion. Loki scowled back at him. “I already know who did this, you buffoon. Let me handle it!” “Then bring the culprit in! She must be released immediately,” Thor said, gesturing wildly to the closing doors. Loki grabbed at his hair and tugged gently. Was this man ever infuriating… “The guards were informed of his identity before I even stepped foot in the room. And would you stop yelling?” “I will stop yelling if you tell me why you are tormenting her? Acting aloof and smart?” “Because our people were responsible for getting her thrown in that cage,” Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I play my cards correctly, then perhaps I can convince her that she owes me a debt for her release.”
It finally sunk in. Thor’s eyelids slid slowly shut. “…and you can use it to stop her family threatening Asgard.” “Exactly. The last thing we need right now is another war with Vanaheim. In the meantime, why don’t you see to it that the guards who started this are suitably dealt with?”
Thor bowed his head and ran a hand through his golden mane. “I am sorry for doubting you brother. I’ll see to that immediately.”
As he turned and left, another two guards appeared behind him. The shifty looking gentleman from the marketplace was between them, looking very solemn and sorry for himself. “Wait, wait, wait,” Loki said, holding out a hand. “Let me go in first.”
That night, Loki lay awake. He couldn’t help but think about what he’d achieved that day. War with Vanaheim had been narrowly avoided – because he’d been in the right place at the right time. Upon hearing your confession – “My father is king of Vanaheim” – he’d had to think quickly, think on his feet. If only somebody were here, he thought to himself, he’d tell them just how magnificent he was and get such a round of applause.
Be careful what you wish for, said the voice in his head, as the sound of his window sliding open filled the empty quiet of his bedroom.
Loki’s resting form stiffened noticeably. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the shadowy figure slip inside and close the window behind them. He screwed his eyes shut, controlled his breathing. He reached his hand under the mattress and clutched the hilt of his dagger. Just a few more seconds of feigning sleep…
“Your highness?” whispered the shadowy figure. “Your highness? It’s me. I’m afraid I need your help again.”
Summary:Capital Craft Mining was a well-established mining company, owned by Brynjolf, the revered and respected. In winter, they work; in summer, they sell. It was a profitable business for all involved. However, a mining accident leaves a small band of them fearing for their lives as the dust settles in their lungs and the fears grow like algae. The events that follow lead the group to discover a brand new resource that would change their fates forever…
A/N:Things are tensing up a little. You’ll be excited to know that I’ve actually started Chapter 1 of The Tower 2 - progress is officially underway! Hoorah! Wish me luck, I’m going to go carry on with it. Enjoy!
5 days in darkness. 5 days rationing food, and drinking water from the walls. When the rocks had collapsed, their way in (and consequently, their way out) had been blocked off.
With every hour they were under, tensions rose. The men grew bitter, and with their bitterness they grew fierce. “What are we waiting for?” Brynjolf snapped, breaking silence like it was a brittle twig. “Rescue? The lads up top don’t even know stuff’s wrong yet. They isn’t comin’ up for air until the end of this here week. We’ll be dead before they is starting diggin’.” “Well, what else can we do?” asked Oris, who touched his twisted ankle tenderly. It was more or less healed, but it stung as much as his pride. Nobody else had slipped over like he had.
Brynjolf tugged his beard once or twice, then stood up. “What we does best, boys. We’s going to dig.”
The pickaxe on his shoulder wobbled as he waddled over to the nearest wall, and began to swing. Lift, swing, crack. Again. “Brynjo-”
Crack.
“Brynjolf, come on, it’s-” Crack. “Save your energy and you’ll last longer.”
“But what’s I lasting for?” He spun around, his axe still bared for another blow. “I told ye’. Nobody’s coming. If I die trying to get us all outta here, then so be it.”
His speech was not what could be described as ‘empowering’. However, it did lift a few of the stronger men off of their arses to help. It should be noted that not all of the mining company were in fact dwarves. Of course, there were plenty, but Brynjolf’s company had been indiscriminate in its want for helping hands. Asgardians, Dwarves, even the few Vasir mucked together to break through the stone.
Perhaps a higher power watched over them; perhaps one of the Norn’s was inspired by the teamwork and integrity displayed. True comradery. Or maybe they simply knew better, and could see what lay on the other side of that particular sheet of rock… And maybe they wanted to see what the desperate group would make of it.
“Did… Did we do it?” A smaller voice at the back asked when a hole appeared in the wall. Brynjolf shrugged and began to pull away at the edges with his hands. To be honest, he couldn’t see past his own nose. Even as he pulled away at the edges of the hole to make it wider, there was no telling what they’d encountered aside from darkness.
However, some of the group were willing to risk it as someone shoved their way to the front. It was one of the newer lads. His first cave-in. Understandably, he was eager to get out of it. So when Brynjolf stuck his arm and stopped him disappearing into the darkness, the look he received was – to put it mildly – foul.
“Anybody got a match?” Bryn asked. After a brief scuffling and shuffling, a match was passed to the front, lit, and tossed into the cavern. Brynjolf squinted as he watched it, waiting for the glowing to die. But it didn’t. “It’s breathable then,” said the impulsive boy as he stepped further inside.
That was when the cavern exploded.
Brynjolf’s back hit the wall. Hard. Pain careered through him in crashing waves, drowning him and stealing all of his breath away. After sinking to the floor, he crawled forward, coughing and shivering. He could taste blood in his mouth, and there was a wetness behind his ear as well. Weary and blurred eyesight showed him the horrors that had come to his friends. His family.
Ellgar’s crimson-covered boot jutted out from under a significant pile of rubble. Another dwarf ran around in circles, flames on his clothing biting and scratching his skin. His face was but a ghost of itself, boils and burns distorting him like a candle distorted wax.
Oris, the poor boy, looked terrified. Rabbit-like. On his weak ankle, he stumbled further into the newly revealed cavern, the only way away from the commotion. Brynjolf wanted to yell out his name, plead with him to stop, to slow, but just as he reached out his hand, Oris slipped on a rock and fell. His skull hit the floor and began to bleed.
So much heartache in one explosion. What was that stuff?
Clearing the soot and soil from his throat, Brynjolf heaved himself onto heavy feet. He could see Oris’ frail body lying in the cavern, surrounded by a strange new mineral. This stuff… It was unlike anything they’d encountered before. Grey like stone, yet brittle and volatile. Explosive. It shone white in the sunlight like–
Sunlight.
Brynjolf’s pace quickened, albeit with a limp. Despite the protests from his terrified teammates, he stumbled into the cavern besides Oris corpse. Except, it wasn’t a corpse… The boy was still alive! A gentle sunbeam warmed his face, dust swirling under his nose with every sleeping breath that escaped him. They were jagged and turmoiled but they were there at least.
Bryn turned his head to follow the stream of gold sunbeams and saw that the tumultuous explosion had travelled quite a way. No doubt the wildlife up top had been in for a shock. Sunlight breached the darkened room; a sign of hope; of comfort and safety; of life beyond. The surface. And the salvation they’d dreamt of for 5 days.
As a team, rocks were manoeuvred to the bottom of the hole, creating a staircase up. It was a narrow shaft that had been blown open, but the fire in their bellies made light work of it as they wriggled to freedom.
Being careful not aggravate any more of the dangerous mineral, Brynjolf lifted Oris into his arms and began his own steady, treacherous climb back home.
Summary:Capital Craft Mining was a well-established mining company, owned by Brynjolf, the revered and respected. In winter, they work; in summer, they sell. It was a profitable business for all involved. However, a mining accident leaves a small band of them fearing for their lives as the dust settles in their lungs and the fears grow like algae. The events that follow lead the group to discover a brand new resource that would change their fates forever…
A/N:This is it lads! The final interim piece before the sequel begins. Same as last time - just a couple of short chapters to give Bryn some depth, and then we’re good to go, my dudes. Enjoy!
“You did what?” “I… I killed them, love. All three of them.”
The two of you hadn’t been long retired. It was in the middle of changing into your nightwear that Loki had confessed – quite out of nowhere – that he’d “murdered” the bandits who’d kidnapped you.
“Worse than that I… I turned them on each other.” You pulled the nightshirt firmly down by its hem before lowering yourself onto the bedside. Loki sat beside you. “I told them to fight each other and that the victor would survive – before I slaughtered him too. I could’ve turned them in, I could’ve let them rot in jail, and justice would’ve been served. But I didn’t. At the first opportunity, I picked up a blade. Because I wanted to. Because I… I got a thrill out of it. You said that the part of me capable of murder had perished in the Tower, but I fear that… that it’s as much a part of me as the hands that bore the weapon.” “Is this you advocating that I should chop off your hands?” “No, I– Are you laughing? Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”
“I’m sorry, I just…” Biting your lip, you turned away and shrugged. “I appreciate you telling me, but you really haven’t thought about this have you? Aside from how it can earn you some pity.” “What are you talking about?” “Must I explain everything to you? Solve all of your problems?”
Loki scoffed and stood up, his hands on his hips. You watched him pace, debating whether to make a smart comment or simply stay quiet. What was he missing that was apparently so obvious? You kept your hands neatly folded in your lap; finally, with a wave of his hand, you were permitted to speak. “Alright, let me make this easy for you: would you say the same of the guards who stand at the gates of our home, bearing swords on their hips?”
After moment of careful consideration, Loki sighed curtly. “No, but they only use their weapons when a threat is posed, not before. I was the threat to those men in the woods.” You raised an eyebrow. “And did those ‘men’ in the woods draw their weapons before or after you revealed yourself to them?”
Loki thought back; he’d only spoken to them. Yes, his intention had been to frighten them, but they’d have no way of knowing that he meant harm when they reached for their blades. You began to toy with the edge of your shirt. “And as far as I’m concerned, they lost any right to f-fair treatment when they considered… having their way with me.” Immediately, Loki’s shoulders dropped. He placed his hands over yours. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to make you relive painful memories.”
“Would you question yourself about this if they’d actually done it?” You asked, somewhat pointedly. Loki blinked. “I beg your pardon?” “Well, I passed out shortly afterwards. They could’ve changed their mind on the journey and I wouldn’t have known. If they’d actually done it, would you feel guilty about taking their lives?” “Not at all.”
You raised an eyebrow, knowing you needn’t say any more. Loki was a little concerned; before you’d fallen into his life, you’d been innocent. You’d believed in punishment after the crime. Now you’d been hardened by all you’d seen. There was something seething within you that he didn’t like. Anger. Upset.
With nothing more than a reluctant smile, Loki admitted defeat, turned, and fell dramatically backwards onto the mattress. “Yes, thank you, Madam Smug. You’ve made your point.” “Which is?” “There’s a difference between murder and… what I did.”
You smiled and fell back also, lying next to him and letting your fingers wander amongst his. “The ruler of this realm deals with his problems by picking up a giant hammer and smashing them to pieces. Bandits police country roads; aliens are a threat at every waking moment. We cannot afford to walk this world without a means of defending ourselves. To do so would be ignorant to the threats which we constantly face.”
“When did you get so wise?” Loki asked, lifting his head when there came an abrupt knock at the bedroom door. You sat up and stood to answer it, talking over your shoulder as you did so. “I expect it happened when I started solving other people’s problems.”
You swung open the door to see Brynjolf, wringing his hands. “Have ye’ got a minute to talk?”
The shadows of the deep Asgardian caverns seemed to move of their own accord. It was hot, dark, and dusty. Every member of the mining group that explored its depths bore two handkerchiefs in their pockets; one for generic handkerchief uses, and another for wiping the sweat from their brow. They could taste the soot on their tongue, the salt of their sweat. Chapped lips welcomed the flask of water that was passed from hand to hand.
Capital Craft Mining had a team totalling about 60 to 70 miners, led by the company’s creator, Brynjolf, a man of fiery temper and equally fiery hair. His group sold to doctors and small-town healers mainly; they were the premium source of a mineral called ‘Anaesthenium’ that could be ground down into a fine powder for pain relief and numbing salves. During the winter months, the men would disappear into darkness in search of the mineral before surfacing in the summer to sell it all on.
Winter had arrived once again.
Brynjolf had split off with ten of his miners into a narrow tunnel walking south. A vein of Anaesthesium was visible to their left and the plan was to follow it along until they reached a large source of the stuff or it ran dry, at which point they could work their way back up and mine the mineral along the way.
“How’s everybody farin’?” Bryn shouted. 9 cries in the affirmative settled his stomach considerably. Despite them being his employees, Brynjolf cared for every member of his organisation like they were blood. And they were. They slept together, ate together, worked together. Many of his men had been taken on at a young age, when their options of employment were few and far between. 0.They were indebted to Brynjolf for providing hot food and a living wage, and he was equally appreciative, for these men were often the most hard-working and loyal.
“Vein’s run dry,” called a familiar voice, Ellgar. “I say we start digging our way back up to the rendesvouz.” “Sounds like a plan. Boys? Spirits up, picks down.”
And so the tunnel that had formerly been filled with nothing more than shuffling steps was suddenly aburst with song. Tuneful whistles of the dwarfs that populated it; their musicality had been improved and refined over the years. An hour later they stopped to snack, before picking up their tools once more and returning to the job at hand. Business as usual.
Brynjolf felt inspired by his work. The steady rhythm of his axe against rock. Lift, swing, crack. Again. Lift, swing, crack. Again. His body was used to the toil like a baby was used to a bottle.
Others in his group, however, were newer. Less practiced. They knew to lift and swing – but where the metal cracked against the wall was a mystery. After all, one wrong move and they’d bring down a rain of stone. Heavy and hard. Fatal.
Unfortunately, today was one of those days.
Ellgar hadn’t seen the fracture as anything more than a crag. A hole. Nothing to worry about, he’d thought, as he’d sunk his pickaxe into it. Perhaps my efforts will loosen the rock, and make the Anaesthesium easier to harvest!
And loosen the rock it did. It was simply a miscalculation as to whichrock.
Brynjolf heard the danger before he saw it. Ellgar sunk his axe into the crag and had already begun to lift it for another crack. Same spot. Brynjolf leapt forward and grabbed the handle, holding it mid air as he turned his ear up.
The stone rumbled… It hummed…
“Everybody, further in - this place is coming down!” He screamed, voice breaking slightly. Quick as a whip, heads turned and legs moved. You didn’t second guess the threat of a collapse; nobody would every joke. Those who did weren’t around to tell the tale.
Every man under his command followed the dying echo of Brynjolf’s words as they dissipated against the growing thunder. Though the way down was steep, a deathly incline of smooth and lumpy rock, the men manoeuvred it with skill and grace.
Juxtaposing the gentle increase of the grumbling, rumbling rock, a boulder – about the size of a a pig’s bladder – became dislodged above their heads. It hit the floor with a crunch, bassy and thick, frightening the men it had failed to crush. One of the almost-victims, Oris, stumbled and fell. He slid down the bumpy slide until he hit somebody’s feet. Brynjolf picked Oris up and heaved him onto his feet.
Bryn didn’t intend to go anywhere. Not yet. He wasn’t moving until every one of his men had gone first.
Pebbles and rubble shivered all around him, sinking into view and causing barricades with every step. Ellgar trembled as much as the mines. “I- I’m sorry, Bryn. I didn’t realise-” “Quit yammerin’ and haul ass. We don’t outrun this, ye’ won’t have the heart left to apologise from the bottom of.”
As larger and larger debris fell from the ceiling, the speed of the fleeing miners increased. Down, down, down like rabbits in a hole. Brynjolf’s heart was in his ears, the only place he could hear his thundering heartbeat over the chaos of the collapse.
When he spotted a cave in the distance – a small divet in the wall – it sped up exponentially. “There – the cave, lads. Move, move, move!” Their hearts were hammering, their mouths were dry, and even their bones rattled with fear.
They huddled together in the small alcove, holding onto each other for comfort and strength. Every day in the mines was a risk; every man who entered held Death’s hand as he did so. However, for every day that nothing happened, their confidence grew. They grew careless – and this was the result. When the ten finally emerged from their hiding hole, several terror-filled minutes later, the world had changed significantly…
Summary:In the realm of Alfheim, political tensions are rising as a new group of elves are gaining traction in the courts of the capital city, Ljosalfgard. When tension become conflict and conflict becomes life-threatening, Fenrien and his friends are forced to run. Though their options are limited, the quick wit and mind of Fenrien Augustino De Antillion offer them an escape, bringing the band of refugees to the glittering gates of Asgard…
A/N:Here we go, the final chapter! It’s a little short but packs a punch. Brynjolf’s backstory is up next - so I’m super pumped. After that, I can get started the sequel itself! Let me know what you think. :3
“And so, I was thrown into Asgard’s prison where I waited for my demise or my release, whichever came first,” Fenrien smiled wearily, running the edge of his finger around the rim of his empty wine mug. For some reason, the effect of the alcohol had worn off. He could feel the grizzly pain of his tale raking across the chambers of his heart. It had been a while since he’d thought about Frida; he now remembered why he’d tried to forget. Jarle tucked a piece of hair behind his lover’s ear fondly, and for a minute he could see the tufts of darkened hair where his cut hair hadn’t quite grown back yet.
Thor had excused himself a few moments ago, upon mention of palace horses arriving at the scene. He gripped the windowsill and bowed his head between his shoulders. Yet another mistake, he scolded himself…
You excused yourself from Loki’s side so that you could follow him, and Loki watched as you wrapped your arms around the sovereign’s waist and held on as tightly as you could, cheek pressed into his spine. He patted your clasped hands before using the same hand to wipe away a tear from his cheek.
“If nobody has anything to say,” Fenrien said. “I think I shall retire to bed. It has been… a long time coming. Thank you for listening to me.”
Fenrien had not been gone long before Jarle excused himself and followed. Thor was still by the window, accepting words of support from you and then Brynjolf. This left Loki on his own. That was always dangerous.
His mind couldn’t help but wander, sinking further into the depths of his despaired mind and tormenting him with images of an all too familiar face. His own.
Who are you to judge? The voices whispered. You mourn for the child – for the elf – because you know them. You know their names. What about those you didn’t know? The ones who died in a city called New York? The children. The caravan owner may have been a con man but he had to pay the bills; you con yourself if you are think you are above him, better than him. You are nothing more than a–
“Loki?”
He heard your voice breaking through the water, like the beacon of a lighthouse, dragging him away from the siren’s call. However, as his focus cleared, he realised why you’d done so. The clenching of his fist was fierce, the expression on his face even more so. His fingers had wrapped themselves around the neck of his glass – and snapped it cleanly in two.
You edged closer to his frozen form. “Are you… alright?” Loki turned away. When he felt your fingers touch his shoulders, he realised how tense they were. How high up. Even Thor watched his brother with concern. Had the story touched him so deeply?
“I fear I am not alright.” “Well, we can see that, pebbles,” Brynjolf chuckled morbidly. He was hyper aware that you were stood next to the man whose face indicated he was about ready to explode. “We’s asking why.” “Because I should be in the cell next to that man. I have killed thrice as many in even more horrific ways. I am the poison in the powder that she ate. I am the fire that burned their homes. I am-” “-a drama queen and an attention whore,” you interrupted, moving your left hand from Loki’s shoulder blade to his hair and ruffling it manically.
Loki blinked and, along with everyone else in the room, glared at you. A stupid smile was on your face. “Did you forget the bit where you didsit in a cell for however long? Before being moved to an even bigger, even worse one?” Thor’s mouth parted marginally. “In penance for what you did, there were many who wanted to see you rot. And when I found you, that’s what you’d done. You were a shell of a person, all but withered away. Hollow. Rotten. The part of you capable of murder perished with it, or you’d never have been able to get out.”
Thor’s eyes narrowed and Loki could feel his brother’s stare. You still didn’t know about the bandits in the woods. But that was different surely! ‘Twas simply vengeance. He was defending your honour! Loki knew the second that he thought it where Thor would stand on the subject; your honour could have just as easily been defended by throwing them in prison. Perhaps he was a drama queen.
When Loki bowed his head, you leaned down to kiss it. “The story was not about you, nor was it for you. Twisting it to earn a little sympathy is not a habit to get into. Let Fenrien make his peace and do so with him.”
It wasn’t helping him feel better, but Loki knew you were right. He resolved to tell you what he’d done to the bandits, hoping that doing so would allow him to ‘make peace’ with it, as you’d said.
“You’re right, love. I will let this go and hold onto something else.” Grinning wickedly, Loki leapt up, grabbed your waist, and threw you over his shoulder. You kicked, and yelled, and beat him with your fists; over the sound of their laughter, Loki bid Thor and Brynjolf goodnight on both of your behalves before swiftly exiting the room.
The sound of your protests could be heard all the way down the corridor.
Summary:In the realm of Alfheim, political tensions are rising as a new group of elves are gaining traction in the courts of the capital city, Ljosalfgard. When tension become conflict and conflict becomes life-threatening, Fenrien and his friends are forced to run. Though their options are limited, the quick wit and mind of Fenrien Augustino De Antillion offer them an escape, bringing the band of refugees to the glittering gates of Asgard…
A/N:Penultimate chapter, my fellow humans. :3 Shit is about to hit the fan so hold onto your butts. Next chapter will tie everything together nicely. Enjoy!
For two days the group trekked through the woods. Despite the shade, there was sweat on their brows; despite their pace, they panted like dogs; all of this due to their new leader. “Fenrien,” Elandor moaned. Fenrien wasn’t listening, marching forward like he knew exactly where he was going, like he wasn’t on the brink of exhaustion.
“Fenrien, please. We’ve got blisters on our blisters. Let us rest.” “We’ll find help soon, I’m sure of it.” Fenrien stopped next to a tree with low-hanging branches. He considered climbing it to re-navigate from a height. Elandor ducked under the branch and popped up on the other side, placing his hand over Fenrien’s. “My friend, look at our people.”
Reeus and Inreus, the twins, had taken the momentary pause to collapse onto the cool earth, closing their eyes and sucking in some large, steady breaths. Reeus’ hand slid into his brother’s and squeezed. Mytris too sat down, about two feet from the snoozing twins. She pulled her left boot of and began to rub the sole of her bare foot. Rosy pink blisters were indeed visible. She winced when she waggled her toes, but bit her lip and returned her threadbare shoe to her foot. Sylphine had been a doctor back in Alfheim. She’d been carrying Frida ever since her coughing fit had started up again. Syl placed her down to tend others. Frida looked positively exhausted.
There were plenty who looked much the same, but it only took the sight of those faces for Elan’s point to sink in. Fenrien’s head dropped. So caught up had he been in securing his group’s safety that he’d forgotten to think about the short-term. “I just…” “I know,” Elan said, squeezing Fenrien’s hand slightly.
After finishing her examinations, Sylphine wandered over to the tree as Fenrien began to climb up it. She watched him for a moment before requesting a quiet word with Elan. “She’s not well.” “Who? The girl.” “Aye. Without treatment, I…” Sylphine rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “I… can’t fathom how much worse her condition will become.”
They continued to discuss the situation until Fenrien’s feet hit the ground. “There’s… a city… Oh, a glorious city,” he panted, stretching as he stood up. “It’s not far. Perhaps a day’s walk at best.”
Sylphine shot Elan a pointed look and he placated her with a hand gesture. “Fenrien, please. We are all exhausted. Frida is unwell. Not all have your energy. We must make camp here for a while.”
When Sylphine returned to Frida, who was now sitting up against a tree, coughing gently, Fenrien sighed. He spoke softly, to Elan alone. “Rest then. I will trek ahead on our behalf. I will return as soon as I can with supplies or support, whichever I discover first.”
Fenrien walked like a man reborn. He couldn’t say quite what spurred him on in particular; in part it was Frida’s declining health, but equally it was the proximity of the glistening capital city. The elusive culprit for his lifted spirits had nonetheless put a skip in his step, a lightness in his heart, and a smile on his face. He whistled in tune with strange foreign birds as he stepped into the sunshine at the edge of the forestry.
A road! Fenrien bent down and touched the gravel path with his hand, running the sediment through his fingers. If he could lead the party here, they’d no doubt feel as much hope as he.
And if his mood had been bright before, it consequently doubled at the sight of the caravan not 20 yards from where he currently crouched. It was old and battered, bent metal making a triangular roof that was attached to the bowing base. The strange technology that powered the vehicle allowed it to hover a few inches above the ground, floating gently in the air. A small canvas awning protruded from the side, bathing the owner in shade as he rocked casually in his hook-like chair. A trail of smoke rose from the end of the long, silver pipe sat between his lips.
Checking both ways, Fenrien crossed over and positioned himself in front of the snoozing gentleman. It was only after clearing his throat a third time that he awoke with a cough and a snort. “Who are you? Whaddya want?!” “I wish… I wish to make a purchase,” Fenrien stammered, wondering what sort of manners this place sported.
Immediately the businessman’s demeanour changed. It made him looked much younger than he sounded, fierce sideburns trailing down his face, and greasy brown hair pulled into a braided rat tail. “Well, why didn’t you say so, young man? How can I help? What are you in the market for? Exotic bugs? Rare jewels? Weaponry forged in cold fires?” “Food,” Fenrien said. “And medicine, something to help cure frailty.”
“Right this way, right this way,” the shop owner grinned, gripping Fenrien’s elbow and steering him to the front of the caravan. He yanked a panel out from the side of the caravan and heaved out a drawer containing bread, fruit, and vegetables, beautifully arranged in rows. Another drawer just below it contained several silver foil pouches. “‘Fraid I got no fresh meat for you, but-” “This is perfect, truly,” Fenrien exclaimed, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll take it.”
“Well, now, hold on, you haven’t paid for it yet!” He chuckled, beginning to load things into a brown satchel. “What have you by way of coin?”
Rummaging through his pockets, Fenrien’s heart suddenly fell. No, no, no, no… “One gold… and- and- and a few silvers.” He pulled the money from his pockets and held it on flat, begging palms. The businessman rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “That won’t do, I’m afraid. It’ll cover the food, or the medicine, but not both.” “Please, good sir, we need both. We’ve been travelling for days and my… my daughter, she grows sicker by the hour. My people are starving.”
“Then your people ought to pay for it,” the businessman growled, placing the satchel down behind his feet. Folding his arms, he then looked up at Fenrien, scowling, until he seemed to notice something. His expression swiftly changed. “Unless…” “Unless what? What will it take?”
Frida slowly forced her eyes open. She could feel someone shaking her gently; it was rattling the pebbles in her brain. She wished the rattling would stop, she was very, very tired…
“Hey, little one,” Fenrien whispered, stroking the hair on top of her head. “It’s me. I’m back.” Frida groaned and tried to roll over. “No, no, no, come on, it’s time for you to wake up. I have medicine for you, see?”
Sitting up, Frida rubbed her eyes and blinked sleepily. When her eyes fell upon Fenrien, she gasped. “Your hair is gone,” she whispered, reaching up to touch the shaved remains on one side of Fenrien’s scalp. It was true that the payment for Frida’s medicine had been steep. “It is?” He smiled. “Well, that’s not good, is it? I must’ve dropped it somewhere! Tell you what, once you’re back on your feet, we’ll go hunting and try to find some more for me, yes?” “Maybe we could glue some straw on it,” she yawned, before opening her mouth so Fenrien could tip the contents of one of the sachets onto her tongue. “Hey now, I’ve been told that my hair is…” Fenrien looked away morbidly. “I’ve been told it’s very valuable. Beautiful and rare. Can we do no better than straw?”
Frida grimaced as she swallowed the medicine down. That was far too salty. Much worse than what she normally took. If this was the medicine of their new home, she didn’t think much of it. “Fine. Then I will learn to use a wheel and spin the straw into gold.” “Much better,” he smiled, planting a kiss on Frida’s forehead and settling her back onto the makeshift bedroll of leaves and moss. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when I’ve cooked something to eat.”
The fire crackled and spit, filling the forest with gorgeous golden hues. The smell of roasting food filled the nostrils of the elves who dozed around the flames, the warmth lulling them to blissful sleep. For some it would be a calm night; for others it would be riddled with nightmares of rubble. Blood.
Fenrien finished sharpening a stick and plunged an apple onto the end of it. He rolled the knots out of his shoulders before settling onto the soil and holding the spear over the fire. Sylphine stood up and handed her own stick over. “I’m just going to give Frida her second dose of medicine. Can you keep cooking this?” “Sure. Take some water from the pale over there for her to wash it down with. Apparently, she’s not keen on the taste of this new stuff.”
Sylphine picked up the pale, accepted a pouch of medicine, and wandered over to Frida’s sleeping form. Despite her one bout of treatment already, she was no better. It was likely the severity of their current predicament that had worsened her condition. Both Sykphine and Fenrien were hopeful that the second sachet would have a more noticeable effect.
And it did.
Frida began to wretch and gag, before rolling over and vomiting horrifically onto the earth. Her little body quivered; Sylphine began to panic as she scraped the girl’s hair out of her face. Immediately, Fenrien was on his feet, discarding the semi-cooked food onto the floor and scrambling closer.
There was no way this was a side-effect of the medicine. Fenrien snatched up the empty foil pouch and dipped his finger inside. He sniffed. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was only when he touched the powder to his tongue that he recoiled. “What? What is it?” Sylphine asked when Frida had stopped vomiting. She still shook horribly, further depleted of the vital nutrients and hydration that she already lacked before.
“It’s… It’s salt,” Fenrien growled. The pouch was crumpled in his clenched fist. “The bastard sold me salt.”
A horrific wave of realisation washed over Fenrien suddenly. His stomach plunged. He stormed back to the campfire and seized one of the spears. He took a large bite from the bubbling apple – and immediately spat it back out. “It’s rotten. The food is rotten, and the medicine is fake.” Fenrien ran a hand over the shaved side of his head. “We’ve… I’ve been conned.”
Frida began to cry suddenly, and, honestly, Fenrien felt like joining her. Sylphine gathered the child up into her arms, shushing her in vain. Frida wept more and more, clutching her tummy and sobbing about the pain. “What’s going on?” Elandor mumbled sleepily, sitting up and stretching. The sound of a child’s crying was not the way to be awoken. It raised concern and questions, answers to which he wasn’t getting forthwith. Fenrien was pacing the floor like an agitated bull. “That bastard… That rat bastard… I’ll– I’ll go back. I will. I’ll go back and I will… do something. The fool must have his own means of survival, living on the road, so I’ll take the bread from his table if I have to!”
Elandor was understandably confused. Between the weeping women and Fenrien’s ramblings, there weren’t many clues as to what the hell was going on. However, he was soon beginning to wish that he hadn’t wondered.
Frida hadn’t stopped coughing between her wretched sobs. No longer was it cute little spluttering, but horrific wretched hacking. Globules of blood hit the floor, and Sylphine – completely unphased – continuously wiped the edges of the girl’s mouth with her sleeve.
Suddenly the coughing stopped.
Fenrien’s head whipped round. Frida lay limp in Sylphine’s arms. No matter how much the nurse shook her, the girl wouldn’t wake. A trickle of blood was still coming from the corner of her mouth.
“No…” Fenrien whispered. He strode over and picked up the child. Sylphine was crying and crawled towards Elandor. He’d woken up to another massacre. “Wake up,” Fenrien said, stroking Frida’s hair with growing frenzy. “Come on, little one, wake up. It’s alright, I’m going to fix this, I promise. You can… You can wake up now.”
It took an hour for Elandor to pry the corpse from Fenrien’s person. That night the forest filled with the sound of a foreign lullaby, as six lost souls sang an angel to sleep.
When the song had finally ended, Fenrien stood. The dying embers of the fire cast red hot shadows across his face. Another shadow, infinitely more frightening, was also visible in his eyes. “Bury her please,” he snarled. “She should be with her parents.”
When he turned on his heel and stormed into the forest, Elandor was quick to follow. “What are you going to do?” He asked. “What is necessary.” “That’s ominous… What are we to do in the meantime?” “At first light, head for the city I saw and seek the asylum we came for. Do not wait for me.”
“What?” Elan scoffed. “Why?” “Because if what I intend to do goes well, I’ll be arrested, exiled, or shot.”
Summary:In the realm of Alfheim, political tensions are rising as a new group of elves are gaining traction in the courts of the capital city, Ljosalfgard. When tension become conflict and conflict becomes life-threatening, Fenrien and his friends are forced to run. Though their options are limited, the quick wit and mind of Fenrien Augustino De Antillion offer them an escape, bringing the band of refugees to the glittering gates of Asgard…
A/N:Hoo boy, prepare for feels. I’ve started on Brynjolf’s backstory too so that is now in the works, and hell am I excited. Why? Because once that’s out the way, I will be starting on The Tower 2! And releasing the winner to the competition. :3 Enjoy, peeps!
After a few minutes, Fenrien’s lungs were beginning to burn. His legs ached, and his neck stung. “Why do they not venture inside?” Solmund wondered aloud, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the floating black swarm with masks that hunted them. “If I had to guess?” Fenrien replied between deep breaths. “To uphold the ultimatum. Currently we are cornered between fire and the blade. If they pursue us any further, they remove one of those risks. They’d give us a chance at escape.”
Frida was getting heavier in Solmund’s arms. Her head rested on her father’s shoulder, her forehead tucked into his neck. She continued to cough, the thin entrails of smoke burrowing in through her nose and tickling her throat. “Daddy, are we okay?”
Solmund looked worryingly at Fenrien. “Uh, yes, pickle, yes. We’re okay. Are you okay?” “I’m… I’m a little tired.” “Okay, pickle.” “Are you tired? Do you want me to walk?” “No, pickle. I should carry you for now.”
Fenrien ran a hand through his hair, the sound of Solmund’s conversation breaking his heart. He had no solution to this. He’d asked these people to run, he’d given them hope, the kindling that their passions currently burned on. If he couldn’t figure things out soon, however, he’d have their blood on his hands. He’d have simply delayed the inevitable and led his flock of lambs to slaughter.
“Are…” Frida yawned. “Are we going through the secret door?” “What’s that, pickle?” “The secret door. In the woods. In the tree. It’s where I hide for…” Frida yawned again. “For hide and seek.”
Solmund looked around and shrugged in bewilderment. “Perhaps it is a fairytale of some kind,” Elandor offered, having caught up for the latter part of the conversation. “Or a story!” “Not one I’ve told her, if it is.”
Fenrien knew better than the guesses of his counterparts. This was real. A real door. Perhaps their ticket out of here. “Hey, little one,” he said, slowing down to a jog. Placing his hands under her armpits, he lifted the little girl onto his hip. “Do you want to play hide and seek now? You and I, versus your old man?” “Right now?” She yawned. “Right now?” Solmund agreed. Was this really the time to be following up on fairytales. The Dark Elves had slowed to a halt next to them. No doubt they wondered what the rebellion had in store; however, they’d only wait for so long before they lit their final grenade.
“Right this very second,” Fen grinned, placing his hand over the infantile fist which now clung to his shirt. “I bet if we find this secret door of yours, we’ll win in a heartbeat!”
Frida pondered the proposition for a second, blissfully unaware she held the lives of her family in whatever response she gave. “Okay,” she said, before coughing frightfully once again. “Let’s play.”
Leaning upwards, directions were whispered into Fenrien’s ear. When he rushed into the cloud of smoke that built around them, his followers wasted no time in following him.
Though nobody could see it, the leader of the Dark Elves smiled wickedly behind his mask. Finally. They’d decided. Death by fire after all. He pulled a grenade from his belt, lit it, and heaved. The sphere exploded not ten feet from their faces, spitting fire like a newly woken dragon. No matter what happened now, Alfheim was no longer home to the light elves.
“Where to?” Fenrien asked, covering his mouth with his sleeve as the bitter taste of ash settled onto his tongue. He’d let Frida down so that she could lead the way, her energy seemingly returned by the promise of play. She toddled forward insistently, dragging Fenrien forward until she decided that he was a dead weight. Wrenching her hand free, Frida shot off on her own.
She launched herself at a particularly thickly-trunked tree – and disappeared out of sight.
Solmund blinked and shook his head fervently. His surprise was shared by everyone in the current party. “It’s… It’s real,” Elan whispered, slowly growing a smile and beginning to laugh with disbelief. “It’s real! It’s a way out, it’s-” “-suspicious.” Sol folded his arms and approached the tree. “I mean, this thing just swallowed my daughter whole and who knows where it goes! How can we trust it?” “Are you asking because you think I know?” Fenrien chuckled, placing his hands on his friend’s shoulders and attempting to rub the tension out of them. “Wherever it leads will be better than this place, I dare say. She discovered this sometime ago and, by the sounds of it, has ventured back many times since. So, who will be the first to follow her, hm?”
One by one, the last surviving members of the Light Elves stepped into the bark of the tree and disappeared out of sight. The would-be rebellion leader, Elandor, firmly shook Fenrien’s hand before following, determined to express his heartfelt gratitude. It was clear to Elan that he was no longer the sole leader of these survivors.
Finally, it was only Solmund and Fenrien left to depart. “After you, my friend,” Sol grinned, gesturing to the wooden portal. The blaze was almost upon them, golden heat warming their faces to an uncomfortable degree. The scorching light illuminated the change in Fenrien’s eyes, which Sol noticed all too late. “Actually, I… I think I will stay,” he said.
Solmund scoffed. “I’m sorry?” “If we go through there, all we shall do is bring a war to whomever resides on the other side. They can just as simply follow us if they find our path but not our bodies. No, someone must stay to ensure that this tree is destroyed by the fire once its purpose is fulfilled. You have a daughter to protect so it must be me.” “But Fen, there-” “-is no other option. It must be me.”
For a moment, Solmund considered fighting. He considered shouting, and screaming, and even pushing his neighbour through the tree’s trunk just so that he’d save his own skin. But ultimately, he knew he was right. He admitted as much aloud. “I usually am about these sorts of things,” Fenrien chuckled morbidly, crossing his arms.
They hadn’t much time to say goodbye, but he’d be damned if that stopped him. The two men embraced suddenly and tightly, holding onto each other as though it were the last chance they’d ever have to do so. Because it was.
A small tear escaped the corner of Fenrien’s eye as the weight of the situation finally settled in. He didn’t want to die. If it meant that his family would live, however… “Iwillprotect Frida,” Sol said firmly. “It is a father’s job to protect their child.” “I know, my friend.” “Which is why it cannot be you who does this.” “What?”
“Look after her for me,” Sol sniffed, grabbing Fenrien’s shirt suddenly and throwing him towards the tree’s think trunk. Fenrien saw a flash of blue as a sudden weightlessness overcame him. It ended just as soon as it had started and suddenly he’d hit hot, dry soil on the other side of nowhere.
Scrambling to his feet, Fenrien yelled in protest and threw himself at the bark from whence he’d just emerged. To no avail… This time, his flesh met only solidity. The fire had swallowed the tree; the portal was gone. Solmund was gone.
“Why, my friend, did you do such a thing…”
Fenrien felt warm tears spill thick and fast, streaming down his cheeks. The crowd of survivors gathered around to watch as he bowed his head and pressed it into the rough wood. It took a moment but eventually he calmed, if in the way that a sea calms after the storm. Angry. Seething. Ever as dangerous as before. The fight was over, but the war was lost. Emotions swum through the air as the waters settled. Rage, upset, and grief all amongst them. Some were simply tired and grateful for an end. Others would have spilled blood at a second chance to change things.
No, Fenrien soon realised. It was over now. All that could be done now was tend to the survivors. Survivors like–
Summary: In the realm of Alfheim, political tensions are rising as a new group of elves are gaining traction in the courts of the capital city, Ljosalfgard. When tension become conflict and conflict becomes life-threatening, Fenrien and his friends are forced to run. Though their options are limited, the quick wit and mind of Fenrien Augustino De Antillion offer them an escape, bringing the band of refugees to the glittering gates of Asgard…
A/N:Sorry this took so long to get up guys. First week of my new job, after a big ol’ moving house, and then no internet for the longest time. Luckily, I’ve got a bit of time to kill now - hence the upload. New Loki x Reader in the works, too.
“We have to get out of here,” Sol mumbled, over and over, his hands in his hair. His long braid was frayed and wild. “We… We have to get out of here.”
Frida was on the ground now, stood by Fenrien’s side. She slid her hand into his and squeezed. “Daddy, you’re… you’re scaring me,” she said. Fenrien picked her up and put her on his hip. She coughed harshly and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
There was a knock at the door that put everybody in the room on edge. It bore a strange rhythm to it, made up of 7 successive knocks. Sol, however, seemed to heave a sigh of relief. He swung the door open. “Where in all the realms have you been?” Sol hissed. “There is no time for dialogue, friend,” replied the stranger. “They’re moving faster than I feared without resistance. Gather your loved ones and let’s go.”
Fenrien’s heartbeat thundered against his ribcage; an earthquake in his chest. Every breath out of his lungs was red raw. They stung his throat and dried his mouth. No matter how much he licked his lips, they felt like a desert without an oasis. Not even a mirage of moisture on his tongue.
Everything was on fire. Fenrien’s eyes had become coins, brassy spheres, as his eyes were filled with images of the world he called home going up in flames. Seas of people swum amongst the carnage, screaming in fear as their home crumbled around them.
Frida quivered on Fenrien’s hip, coughing more and more often as time went on. Her health had never been perfect, but the blood-stained smoke that swirled above her head undoubtedly didn’t help.
The Dark Elves were not far behind. The sounds of their destruction rained like a terrible thundercloud from behind. They’d swept the nation of Alfheim with fire, explosions, and dark, dangerous magic. Carnage and fear followed in their wake. Explosions erupted around them every so often, littering the ground with debris – and sometimes limbs.
A bespectacled man was one of those fleeing from Ljosalfgard. With no children in his arms, the man was faster that Fenrien but careless. When an explosion to their left drew screams from the masses, the man misplaced his footing. He hit the ground. Hard. The building to his left groaned suddenly, and the bespectacled man looked up in time to see it topple.
Fenrien turned away at the last minute. He shielded Frida’s eyes and crouched down. Brickwork and rubble showered his back. Frida buried her face into his chest, whimpering quietly. Even Fenrien couldn’t deny the shake that had set into his bones. He was panting hard, staring fiercely at the ground under his feet, trying not to shed a tear.
When he finally stood and looked up again, there was nothing left to see expect a pile of stone, a growing crimson puddle, and a pair of broken glasses.
“D-Don’t look, little one,” Fenrien said, keeping his hand on the back of Frida’s head. “Keep your eyes closed. Head down. Don’t look.”
No sooner had he turned a circle, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at all the carnage, did he feel a hand on his shoulder. “You can mourn later,” said the stranger from his front door. “But now we must run.” And so Fenrien returned to his state of disarray. Earthquake in his chest. Sandpaper in his throat. Desert on his lips.
The stranger, a man by the name of Elandor, guided Fenrien by the shoulder towards the other rebels. Solmund could be seen in the distance, ushering frightened citizens towards the forest’s edge. “Quickly, quickly, deeper inside, go!”
The shadows engulfed Fenrien, bathing him in shade and a welcoming change in temperature from that of the village’s burning corpse. He took a moment’s respite and looked behind him.
The Dark Elves were truly terrifying, formidable foes. Their pallid, expressionless masks struck fear into the very blood that pumped readily through his veins. He watched them cut their way closer, striking down all who opposed them and all who were simply in the way. They moved like a single organism, terrifying swiftness and uniformity bringing them closer and closer to Fenrien’s quivering form. He felt like a hunted animal; petrified at the sight of his predator.
“The forest will not stop them,” Fenrien whispered. Elandor’s head turned and his expression hid nothing. “Perhaps not, but it may conceal us well enough that we are not so easy to slaughter.”
It was as if the Dark Elves had heard them. The hoards of marching men, swathed in black, halted at the border of the Wysteria Woods. Their masks stared forward, blind and unfeeling, as someone pierced the crowd and stepped forward. A leader. Members of the rebellion gathered around Elan and Fenrien. Confusion-riddled faces watched with confusion as the trees seemingly forbade entrance to the mysterious army.
However, as these things often go, it was too good to be true. Fenrien narrowed his eyes when the leader pulled a strangely shaped orb from his hip. Only too late did it sink in that it was an explosive. A grenade. Foreign to the eyes of Alfheim, but unequivocally lethal in the hands of these villains. It seemed so effortless. With as little as a flick of their wrists, death was wrought upon the shadows. The distant canopy slowly grew into a canvas of amber as the woods were set alight with infuriating efficacy.
The cacophony of fleeing footsteps was gradually outmatched by the sound of the screams that penetrated the darkness. Weeping; shrieking; crackling fire. Fenrien winced as the noise filled his ears. He could feel Frida shaking his arms. Solmund’s face was fear-stricken. Even Elandor looked out of his depth.
They had survived… simply by choosing the left half of the forest to flee into over the right. The entire eastern woodland perished, along with all those hiding within. Fenrien knew it wouldn’t be long before the Dark Elves turned their attentions elsewhere. They weren’t so stupid as to only half-finish a job.
Sooner came rather than later when Frida’s coughing fit began again.
The leader of the Dark Elves turned his head fiercely – and something inside Fenrien snapped. He felt his back straightening, his chin rising. Not the child, he thought to himself. Take what you have already got, because you will not have her.Over my dead body.
“Run,” he commanded calmly, as the hoard turned in his direction. The survivors surrounding him took heed of his words. “Stick to the edge if you can. Though frightening, it will protect us. They wouldn’t ignite the kindling so close to their face.”
Solmund appeared at his side shortly after the chase had begun, finally taking Frida back into his care. The elves were already pursuing, though they’d admittedly got a head start. Even the fire from the first grenade had begun to chase them, licking at their heels like a viper. “We cannot outrun this, my friend,” Solmund hissed. “We cannot stay in the forest forever, but we cannot leave it either. We are to die by fire or die by the blade. It is simply a matter of choosing!”
“I have already chosen,” Fenrien replied smoothly. “I choose to live.”
Hi! This one is inspired by the lyrics of the song For Your Love by Måneskin and it was requested by a very lovely anon It might be the filthiest smut I’ve written so far and I’m proud of it I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki
| Loki wants you. Everything of you. And he’s more than willing to do everything you want him to if it earns him your love. Making you scream his name at the end of this funny little game of cat and mouse is only the cherry on top.
|smut, bantering, romance
| 6 k
| SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), public/semi-public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), some dirty talk, biting (only a little bit), inappropriate use of telepathy
, ♡
, ,
I wanna be the first man you look at tonight
Stark’s party was already in full swing. Strobe lights were flaring through the atrium of the new Avengers headquarters, a changing pattern of shades of blue and red and purple which painted the room and the dancing crowd in their dim colours, and beyond the huge glass façades, the orange glow of a distant city seeped into the black of the night sky.
Loki glanced down at the swarm of revellers, his elbows resting on the railing while his attentive gaze scanned the faces in the crowd below. Watching. Searching for you.
He hated himself for it, for the sheer inability to take his mind off you, to pry his every thought from the invisible grasp you held over his mind.
Loki remembered how it had started, months prior, when Thor had freed him from the confines of his Asgardian prison cell to assist the Avengers. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on you, Loki had been enchanted – by your smiles, the sound of your laughter when it bubbled up your throat, the dark humour the two of you shared and the witty remarks you challenged him with. These things were like the pieces of a mosaic on an Asgardian mural, coming together to form a beautiful picture, tile by tiny tile. A picture he couldn’t get out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Loki was under your spell and mercy.
You had bewitched him, had put him under a spell not even he would ever be able to break. And Loki didn’t want to break it, not exactly. No, what the trickster wanted was to have the same intoxicating effect on you as you had on him. You were the sweetest of poisons, seeping into his mind to cloud his every sense and catch him in the sticky web of this strange magic you were wielding over his heart and mind.
It was time, he thought with a vicious smirk, to repay the favour and tip the scale.
Summary: When Loki gifted you a new flower to research, neither of you knew what to expect.
Notes: IT’S SEX POLLEN TIME! Consent is discussed at length, but if it makes you uncomfy please skip it! Thanks @mollygetssherlockcoffee for beta-reading and convincing me not to scrap the whole thing!
(Additional Note: The actress in the gif does not reflect the appearance of the reader in this story. The gif just fit the best. I do try to keep my reader-inserts as neutral as possible, and I am open to criticism on that front!)
~*~*~*~*~
Loki stopped caring what others thought of him long ago. So when Thor and his friends poked fun at him for stopping by a flowering field, it did not irk him as it once would. They were fools and could not understand the all-consuming love that drove his actions.
He almost felt sorry for them.
He looked through the field and was disappointed to find that most of the plants were familiar to him. Wild herbs that you already cultivated, flowers you had books full of pressings of. He was about ready to admit defeat when something new caught his eye.
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter One AUTHOR: https://ichiruuu.tumblr.com WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE:Romance FIC SUMMARY: He is forbidden. Her heritage was stolen.Its been two years since the earth was attacked by the Chitauri. Victoria Bishop lives in New York and works for Tony Stark also known to the rest of the world as the Invincible Iron Man When Loki returns for the Tesseract, she finds herself somehow drawn to him and his bad side. Loki is the type her dad warned her about. Loki is the type of man you want to hide and lock up your daughters from. As Tony Stark once said, “We create our own demons.“But what about falling for one? RATING:Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: mentions of rape and violence. FEEDBACK/COMMENTS:Hello! This is my first Loki fic. Please give some feedback! Thank you :)
Something was off that Monday morning.
I could not place my finger on it as I made my way through downtown Philadelphia. It was raining so it had been deemed pretty stupid to worry about the day being off. The mood however…
I had forgotten why the mood was sour today. I was on the first train out of my beloved city to an unknown place. The letter had instructed me to move out and was shoved down somewhere at the bottom of my suitcase. That was a week ago. It had been about three months prior to my departure when it arrived. I was sitting in my office with my mother who loves to chide me when it came to my personal endeavors. There hadn’t been too many clients that day so I could pace myself with my work. My father, a well known doctor in Philadelphia, had been contacted by Anthony Stark. Mr. Stark was a man of many secrets but everyone knew that he was technically a superhero. His company had been associated with SHIELD, which we only knew about through the television and newspapers. The organization itself had based their beliefs on catching intergalactic criminals and stopping the world from coming to end. But after some fights with SHIELD’s director, Mr. Stark had started his own program to stop aliens (the spacial kind) from invading the planet. Stark Industries had hired my father to study how other species survive and live on our planet. One of them happened to be Thor’s younger adopted brother.
The job description required a young and vibrant person to assist Tony Stark with physical and psychological studies involving said younger brother. I had never personally met Thor’s brother but based on Mr. Stark’s description of him, he was a dick. Someone that you wouldn’t want to mess with.
When I arrived at my apartment that same day, I was not surprised in the slightest at how big it was. Bigger than my room in my parent’s house. After all, my father had hounded Mr. Stark about me having the best accommodations money could offer. Being spoiled at age twenty- two made me feel like such a child. Once the movers arrived at my new home, they unloaded all of my furniture. There weren’t many things that I owned, but the comfort of having them with me had eased my apprehensiveness of moving to a completely different place. You’d think I’d be used to a big city but Philly had nothing on New York.
My new place had two bedrooms, a single bathroom with a high powered shower and a kitchenette with a small dining room. Picking the biggest room was pretty easy. It was closer to the street with a huge window which I was thankful for. A daily dose of Vitamin D was good for everyone.
A loud ring coming from under the couch cushions startled me. Realizing it was my phone, I laughed out loud for being scared of something so silly. The caller ID informed me it was Mr. Stark. Gulping audibly, I cleared my throat before answering.
“Hello?” My voice cracked.
“Ah, Ms. Bishop. I see you’re nice and settled into your new apartment. Is everything to your liking?” I wasn’t sure but I had the distinct feeling there was sarcasm behind that question. My teeth grit involuntarily.
“Everything is perfect, Mr. Stark. Thank you by the way,” Mumbling, I said my goodbyes to him and we hung up. So much for trying to impress the new boss. Glaring at my clock, I shoved the phone under the couch cushions again. Like my mother said: Que sera sera.
The sun was the only thing shielding myself from my own homicidal thoughts.
I was drowning in my sweat and I wasn’t even half down the block. I loved living in a big city but I missed Philly. Especially with all the pollution constantly clogging up my lungs and a car waiting at every corner to maim me. I was happy to go to work today. Today marked the anniversary of working one year with Mr. Stark. It was an honor and a privilege. It was also a degrading job that paid fairly well, the irony of it. I was a certified physician assistant to my father. But part of my job also entailed doing daily blood draws on the one and only god of chaos and destruction, Loki Odinson. Loki was Thor’s brother who also happened to be an Avenger. And in case you didn’t know, Tony Stark was the Iron Man. I had started working with Mr. Stark because his most trusted physician had been too much of a chicken to go head to head with a god. A snort came out of my nose. Yeah, right. There was the small detail of Mr. Stark’s wife, Pepper Potts, having a pair of twin boys so Mr. Stark’s blood pressure was known to skyrocket.
Noise polluted the quiet vastness of my mind and distracted me away from my thoughts. I walked towards the upper part of Manhattan. A loud honking noise made me stop short and I turned sharply. A taxi had just stopped in front of me and kept honking. I kept walking and ignored the driver. It was usually what happened in these parts. That was one of the reasons I hated living here. It only made me miss my tiny bedroom in the outskirts of Philadelphia.
I was out of breath by the time I was inside the Stark Tower. Missy, the secretary, met my eyes when I entered the grandiose building. She gave me a rather nasty look. I gave her a nasty look of my own. When I turned away, I could almost feel her piercing gaze on my back. I tried walking towards the elevator as gracefully possible, but for me, I felt like I was a gazelle with its legs broken. Holding my head up high, I stopped in front of the elevator. Just as I was about to press the last button, it pinged and opened. Mr. Stark stepped out in his mighty Avenger glory. I was taken aback at his sudden entrance. He was about the same height as my father (a whole five feet and nine inches on the dot) with dark brown hair that was neatly styled and a tidy beard. He had a rueful smile on his face and I stared at him more for several seconds. He wore a pair of dark wash denim jeans and a tight black t-shirt. I wasn’t the type to stare at one’s boss, but Mr. Stark had a good figure considering his age and all. He had gotten married recently, and still acted like the playboy that he solemnly had been for years. Around me, he acted like an older brother or protector. It was because he was twenty-five years my senior. It felt comforting having him there, since I rarely saw my father at the lab. He still stayed in Philadelphia and traveled for meetings once a week.
“Ah, Miss Bishop. So glad you made it. What, did you stop and get your hair done before work?” he teased. I laughed.
“No, Mr. Stark. I had just set my alarm a little late. I knew that I didn’t have to start work until eight.” I glanced down at my Rolex, making sure I was right. Yup. Fifteen minutes until my shift. I shifted and let out a sigh of relief. Mr. Stark looked me up and down. He tsk tsked at me.
“Geez, Miss Bishop. You’re what, twenty-four now? You dress like my grandmother!” He shook his head but kept smiling. My lips thinned into a tight line, I examined what I was wearing. I thought I looked decent enough. I was wearing dark washed jeans and a violet blouse paired with knee high boots. Perhaps wearing knee high boots in the middle of March wasn’t such a good idea after all. Business casual. Or more casual than business as he had once put it. At least I hadn’t walked into work with Hawaiian shorts and a Mickey Mouse shirt like he did one time. We don’t talk about that Christmas party incident anymore.
“Okay, fine. I do admit I don’t typically dress my age. And I’m twenty-three!”
“Okay okay, kid. What’s on the agenda for today?” He stopped smiling and had a grim look on his face in a split second.
I gave him a blank stare. There was a strange look on his face. Crap. That was also part of my job. He glanced at me almost as if he was gonna say something but held his tongue.
“Is it an Avenger thing?” I recovered quickly. “Or is it a code nine one one?” Code 911 usually stood for escaping superbeings. I could only pray that it wasn’t Loki this time.
He nodded and turned on his heels. A highly dangerous god was on the loose. Missy stepped out from behind her post and wordlessly gave Mr. Stark a silver briefcase. It was lightweight and inconspicuous, perfect for New York. Having a briefcase was the norm here. In reality, it was his Iron Man armor. He pressed a button to open the case. Stepping into it, the armor conformed to his body and he flew out of the balcony window in the lobby. Papers flew everywhere and Missy huffed. My laughter echoed inside the elevator.
My job was fairly simple at Stark Industries. Do a routine blood draw, stay out of the way, and do not ask the guard to leave while doing physical tests. Sometimes I was a carrier pigeon for Mr. Stark. He’d send me over to the Shield headquarters (each time the location was different) and hand over vital information to Director Nicholas Fury. Sometimes it entailed me going on trips out of the country which was a nice perk of being here.
There was only one person I could tolerate in the entire tower and that was Dr. Bruce Banner. We were both smart and we knew about the body so we felt comfortable talking about biological warfare and whatnot. On my first paid vacation we had spent a weekend in Calcutta where he tried to meditate and control the other guy. He had invited Natasha Romanoff. I usually stayed clear of her way. She was intimidating sometimes but her sharp wit often made me laugh. Her combat skills came in handy when my usual guard had to tend to some other assignments per Mr. Stark, so she filled in for him. The protocol was that I had to have someone with me at all times. The trust in Loki was so little. There was also Clint Barton. I rarely saw him since he had a private life outside of the Avengers job. He was married and had two kids so he tried to avoid the action as much as he could. There was a rumor going around that Clint had been possessed by some kind of unearthly power due to Loki’s influence on alien technology. Clint’s PTSD had sky-rocketed the minute he spied Loki again in the tower.
And of course, there was Steve Rogers. He and I never saw eye to eye on anything. There had been a brief time where I had actually wondered if the man in red, white, and blue had developed a crush on me. It turned out it was just his fucked up views on female doctors. Shocker.
The elevator was lagging today so I wondered if Mr. Stark had tweaked its hardware, again. I pushed the button for the very top again just to make sure I had pushed it in the first place. There was one person I forced myself not to think of. On my first day, I had fallen head over heels for Thor. Now that I thought about it, it seemed pretty stupid. Having a crush on him was inconvenient for sure but I was thankful that he had politely declined my advances. All in all, unrequited love hurt like a bitch.
Now, I was better after the whole crush thing. I had a few friends, I worked for a bunch of superheroes and my salary was the bomb lest the degrading part of it. Sometimes I went on dates but it was rare since I was so busy. I barely had time for myself! When the elevator opened, I walked out with my satchel over my shoulder. The air was warm up here compared to the cool elevator ventilation. The sun was shining just as brightly as it had been outside and the birds were chirping. The windows in the corridor reflected a rainbow. I straightened my clothes before I walked into Mr. Stark’s office to pick up Loki’s medical chart. Excitement was bubbling inside of me as I thought about testing his lipids and cholesterol. Loki’s metabolism should have been the envy of every athlete in the world. It was quite impressive how much food he consumed and how fast he burned away all the calories.
I shuffled forward while people passed by me in the hallway. Several of them waved or just nodded. Somehow I still felt out of place. Being the youngest worker here certainly didn’t make it easier on me. I was different from people my age. My degree stuck out like a sore thumb. There was always that feeling of not being good enough. Mr. Stark always soothed my worries about being useful. All the data I gathered for him on the daily had helped treat several people he knew that had suffered from a strange disease after the battle of New York four years ago.
I guess the only good thing about me was being able to stand my ground. I could easily stick up for myself in any situation. Fighting back a smile, I made my typical beeline for the fresh coffee and donuts Mr. Stark supplied for his workers. After grabbing a napkin to wipe the sugary goodness off of my fingers, I bit into my vanilla donut. I poured coffee with just a splash of cinnamon coffee creamer. A true queen’s breakfast. I walked down the hall while I munched on my goodies. It should be an easy day. I didn’t even have to start my labs until the afternoon after some interrogation and a meeting. Mr. Stark hadn’t been too specific about Loki, but I was sure it was a joke when he said Loki escaped. As far as anyone knew, Loki was locked in his room on the fiftieth floor like Rapunzel. Just as I was opening the door to Mr. Stark’s office I stopped right in my tracks. There was someone in his chair. My coffee hit the floor, sloshing the hot liquid all over my boots. It smelled like pine cleaner and…alcohol? My eyes widened when the chair turned.
There he was in all of his Asgardian glory.
I had seen Loki many times. I had seen him in regular human clothes. But I had never seen him in his armor. His cold piercing eyes stared right into mine. His eyes, oh his eyes, were a baby blue color that mesmerized me often. Right now they were dark like endless pools of black murky waters. His black hair was slicked back in his usual style with a few strands tucked behind his ear. The expression he had on his face was wild, animalistic. He didn’t smile. He never did.
Fear shot through me like icy liquid causing me to shiver violently. My legs were numb while pure adrenaline coursed through my veins. It was fight or flight at this point. I had no guard here. Basically, I was fucked. He stood up fluidly with such grace that it made me twinge with jealousy. Even like this, he was still somehow perfect. But something was not right. He staggered slowly. Then it hit me. Loki was drunk.
Perhaps he would kill me in his drunken state. He’d be merciful and do it quickly. His temper was downright scary. I had discovered that on the first day of his blood draws.
“What are you doing here, Loki?” I asked cautiously. He tilted his head and walked closer to me. I could smell the alcohol and it made me gag. I coughed at how strong and potent it was. It was most likely Asgardian ale. Earth alcohol had no effect on Loki or his brother.
“How in the fuck did you escape your room?” There was silence. A look of confusion crossed his delicate features. He didn’t even understand my question. It took all of my willpower not to burst into laughter. Taking a deep breath, I tried to speak to him again and get his attention.
“What am I doing here?” He slurred. He sounded coherent enough. Perhaps the alcohol was being sweated out of his system. It surprised me how strangely calm and collected he sounded at the moment. My thoughts began to wander as I studied Loki’s face. He was really attractive. There was something about his face that didn’t match Thor’s. Loki’s complexion was pale and his milky skin was flawless. Paired with pink thin lips and childlike expressions, overall he was angelic. He towered over every other resident in the Tower. During his first exam, I measured his height. He was an impressive six foot three and a half.
“Where is the tesseract?” His slurring was even more pronounced as he swayed back and forth, eyeing me with a hungry stare. He was heaving instead of taking normal breaths. There was sweat on his forehead. A sickly look graced his perfect face. Even as he scrutinized me, I could feel the power radiating off of him. He truly was a god. A regal and powerful god. He could snap me in half if his heart desired. My bitchy persona was back on as I shook my head. So what if he was inebriated? I could still take him like that.
“The what?” I asked stupidly, cocking my head to the side. I had a pretty vague idea of what he was asking about. “I said what are you-” Before I could finish my sentence, Loki did a very not Loki thing. In three quick strides, he stood in front of me, his frame completely engulfing me. He looked like he had fallen from above, like a malevolent god. The faint smell of pine and snow was coming off of him. His eyes were narrowed. I forgot how to breathe for a second and I swear my heart stopped for a few beats. Swallowing air burned my throat from how terrified I was. The odd feeling of having him so close to me was eerie. He had a thing about being touched without permission and personal space.
“I want the tesseract!” The windows shook from his thunderous voice. “Tell me where I can acquire it!” Loki hissed at me. I was so scared at this point that I began to giggle. This was usually a side effect of pure fear. His swaying did nothing for him. My lips pursed when he leaned down closer to me. A finger lifted a curl from my face and he tucked it behind my ear. A whole second went by before Loki seized my forearm. I yelped in pain, his steely grip squeezing me tightly. My teeth gritted to prevent myself from crying. Several veins in his neck were popping out in anger. Yet, I did not care what he wanted. He was hurting me. Even my teeth began to chatter from the anger I felt at the treatment I was receiving from him. God or not, he shouldn’t treat a person with such disrespect.
“I don’t where your stupid tesseract is, Loki,” I spat out. “And even if I did know, I would never tell someone like you. You are the scum of the universe, Loki Odinson.” And with that, I yanked my arm out of his grip, walked to the window and pulled out my phone to call Mr. Stark. A growl came behind me as Loki charged at me with an incredibly vile expression on his face. He bared his teeth, his eyes absolutely livid. It was the last thing I saw before he grabbed my arms and threw me against the glass windows. I greeted darkness peacefully.
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: mentions of death, kidnapping, violence, language
My head felt like a dead weight, heavy and sluggish. It rested on my shoulder, my muscles too weak to keep it up.
My blindfold is still on though I have moved to a different location. I was now sitting in a chair, arms, hands, and legs tied to it.
I groaned as I stretched my muscles, my head the worst pain of my body. The headache was massive and my neck was stiff.
I needed water. Badly too.
As I moved my head off my shoulder, I heard a slight shuffle close to me.
I stilled.
“She wakes” A smooth voice resonated
I heard the opening and a closing of a door. Then proceeded footsteps that echoed off the walls.
I was then blinded by lights as a hand ripped my blindfold off. I was greeted by the faces of two avengers, the Widow and … Loki? I knew he was living at the Avengers Tower but I did not know he was working for them. What a shame, he was a good baddie.
I smiled “Good to see you too,” I said sarcastically
“Listen, we’re not her to torture you,” the Widow said. I looked to Loki then back at Natalia. Both were stern and both had the same look on their faces, the look of skepticism. Loki was more hard to read though, his face said little other than business.
“Then what are you here to do?” I asked and squinted at Natalia.
“We’re here to make a bargain,” Loki replied, I paused, then slowly turned my head to look towards him. I then laughed.
My eyebrows went up,
“Are you serious? You’re kidding right? Do the avengers know about this?” My smile went wider
“That’s why we’re here,” Natalia started and then paused. “We’ve been trying to track someone for days now, but they’re good, really good at laying low, not being seen.” she paused again, “So, we need someone’s help, no one has been able to so closely kill me before without being spotted, so the team decided that you would be helpful to us.”
I listened to her explanation, “I want to make sure I’m hearing this right, all you need me to do is find, catch, and bring a guy back to you? Why isn’t the snake over here able to do that? If this guy your talking about is so tough to get, wouldn’t magic work better than me?” I was skeptical now, none of this made sense. There has to be a catch.
Loki replied before the Widow did, his jaw clenched, obviously he didn’t like my comment about not finding the guy, “I tried, the guy we’re tracking has magical abilities too, able to counteract my own magic.”
I sighed, my neck still sore, “There’s something missing though,” I paused, “Why do you need this guy,”
The Widow looked to Loki, the two of them having a silent conversation,
“We can’t tell you that,” She said I laughed again, “of course you can’t, but I still have one more question, What do I get in return.”
Natalia answered quickly this time, knowing I would probably ask this question. “You would be off of S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar, we wouldn’t bother you, S.H.I.E.L.D or the avengers,”
Now this truly did make me laugh, how dumb could they be?
I tried to find the right words, “You’re telling me, if i catch and give you this guy I would be off of S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar, what if I decided to go kill the president after this? Wouldn’t S.H.I.E.L.D want me then?”
What Loki and Natalia did after I spoke truly unnerved me, they looked uncomfortable.
“What we’re offering is a position on the team, the avengers, I mean,” Natalia said
“Do you think I’m stupid?” I said, Loki huffed, trying to keep a laugh down
“No, but it’s either accept, catch the guy, and then join the team, or you leave, like none of this ever happened.” Natalia said.
I shook my head, “Are you giving free positions to everyone now? All they have to do is do something for you then become an avenger? I don’t buy it,”
A sudden movement, then a hand was on my throat.
“Loki,” the Widow spat
Loki’s eyes bore into mine, his were emerald, the purest green, but what I saw behind them was pure, unending rage.
My heart sped quicker, his hand clenching my throat, “Don’t you dare think that some of us didn’t work for this position,”
What worried me most about this situation, was that I liked it, his hand was cold and smooth which gave more excitement. I struggled and I found out that I was…well, wet.
Fuck, Loki was hot
But as I started to black out, his hand was ripped from my throat, the Widow was between Loki and me.
I smiled and gazed at Loki and as I started right at him I said, “I accept.”
STORY SUMMARY, PART II: Things have gone well for Loki and Stjarnavetr these past five centuries, but it cannot remain so. When Loki unexpectedly betrays those closest to him, Stjarnavetr’s world falls apart. Painful secrets and dark pasts will come to light, love will be tried to the breaking point, and Stjarnavetr must come to terms with the fact that the man she loves is not the man she thought she knew. Through it all, both Loki and Stjarnavetr will come to realize just how far they will go for one another and the sacrifices they will make, no matter the cost.
STORY RATING: Explicit (for strong language, strong sexual content, and graphic violence)
“Nice try, Mannadr!” I smirked, slicing the stale air with Laevateinn, the sword Angrboda had commissioned for me.
Four palace guards stood opposite of me, weapons drawn and poised. Before them lay their comrade whom they had likely known for centuries, whom I had just decapitated and whose black blood was pouring thickly out onto the dusty ground, and whose unfortunate fate simultaneously did not faze them at all.
I was training again—for what, I knew not, only to pass the time, I suppose—and I greatly enjoyed it. It took my mind off other matters, anyway.
I always instructed the guards I happened to train with that day to attack me as if they truly wished to kill me, queen’s father or no. Of course they mechanically obeyed and a few times I had ended up with some rather nasty wounds. Luckily, unlike them, I could heal myself even here and did not have to spend the rest of eternity with half my guts exposed or fallen out.
Many of the guards I had killed this way. Hel once told me that even though we were all dead here, it was possible to die a second time, and there was no coming back from it. By that logic, I suspected it was once again possible to return to life, but Hel had always remained rather tight-lipped on the subject, only fueling my suspicion.
But as of late I had not spoken much to Hel if I could help it.
It was an interesting sight when one of them died. The guard would collapse onto the ground and a few seconds later their bodies would slowly disintegrate into an ashen mound, which would eventually disperse in the dry wind. I would have felt odd killing palace guards simply for my own amusement, but Hel had assured me long ago that the guards were not as the other dead in Helheim; they were mindless and followed orders blindly. There was nothing left over of them from their previous life, save their physical appearance, and there was certainly no shortage of them.
“Try me again!” I shouted at the next biggest one, a gnarly brute called Mannadr who had survived my spars for quite some time. He currently was my ultimate goal.
He came at me, sword raised, feet pounding loudly on the hard-packed earth. He swung, aiming for my head, but I dodged the blow and dropped hard to one knee, bringing my sword around in an arc towards his right leg.
The blade did not meet flesh, however, for he swiftly dodged my blow. I gritted my teeth, leaping to my feet as he turned and attempted once again to decapitate me, likely in some blind revenge for his fallen comrade.
Ultimately, he did not succeed, and like his unfortunate friends before him, lay dying his second death upon the ground. I grinned triumphantly to myself, staring into his eyes as the dullness there became duller and his jaw went slack and his mouth fell open to reveal the blackened stumps of his teeth and whatever shriveled flesh remained of his tongue. I withdrew my sword from his chest just as his skin began to crack and turn greyer.
As soon as I finished wiping his blood on the bottom of my boot, a shout drew my attention.
“My lord!”
It was Ganglati, Hel’s slow-moving manservant and occasional fuck toy.
“What?” I barked.
“Her Majesty requests your presence.”
“Tell her I’m busy,” I replied flatly, turning away and wiping my brow. I would avoid her if I could, and it wasn’t as if Ganglati could do anything.
“It is urgent,” he insisted, though his voice was bland as always. “The queen demands it.”
I rolled my eyes, but did not further acknowledge him. I went to begin another spar, but before I could shout at one of the remaining guards, suddenly I felt Ganglati’s hand around my arm and I turned, shocked to see him standing right next to me.
“The queen demands it,” he repeated, insipid gaze focused on me.
“Alright, alright,” I snapped unnervingly, not wanting to ask how he had gotten across the training yard so quickly.
I handed my sword to the guard by the weapon rack and headed towards the palace. I was annoyed at being summoned. The next meeting was not for another four days and I knew not why Hel would need to speak with me like this so suddenly.
After everything had come to light months ago—or whatever I assumed to be months with the changing of the light in the sky, it could have been much longer or shorter—I had grown an aversion to Hel, likely much to the delight of her mother and my lover, Angrboda. It was not that I hated Hel, but it was that I almost felt sorry for her and did not wish to further complicate things between us by being around her often.
“Where is Hel?” I demanded as Ganglati trailed far behind me, despite his show of sudden dexterity minutes before.
“Her chambers, my lord,” he called out.
I was there in minutes. I went past her guards, threw the doors open, and found Hel standing by her large window. She turned and smiled, which she had not done to me in so long.
“Father.”
“What is it?” I asked, somewhat shortly.
“I have a gift for you,” she answered, suspiciously cheerful.
Her words caught me off guard. Immediately I was wary.
“I was just in the training yard—”
Hel breezed up to me, took my hand, and turned to lead me towards her bedchamber.
“Did you kill any guards?”
My skin crawled at her touch. After learning of Hel’s rather iniquitous feelings for me, I felt uneasy at her proximity.
“Yes, two.”
“Wonderful,” she said brightly, in her normal gritty rasp.
Now she stopped at the closed doors and turned to face me, withdrawing her hand and abruptly appearing remorseful.
“Before we proceed, I would like to say that I am sorry if I have offended you in any way,” she admitted. “I did not mean for things to change so between us. I do not like how we have been lately and hope we may overcome this.”
“Er…”
“I hope sincerely that this will make it up to you,” she continued with a blossoming smile, pushing the doors open and leading me inside.
“Hel—”
“Look what I have for you, Father.”
My eyes were drawn immediately across the room towards the fireplace, and I was surprised to see a woman standing there in a faded white dress with her back to us. At the sound of Hel’s voice, however, the woman turned, and something like a jolt went through me.
She was very beautiful, with pale grey eyes and full lips. Her hair was a lovely light gold and fell in pretty waves over her shoulders and down to her waist, which was cinched with a thin, plain brown belt. She tilted her head ever so slightly, lips twitching upwards in a small smile of what appeared to strangely be apperception.
I stared at her for a long, bewildering moment, searching her eyes, oblivious now to Hel’s idiotic grin. There was something in the back of my mind suddenly, clawing its way to the forefront, screaming to be recognized, and when it hit me the useless breath left my lungs and the darkness in my mind receded and I knew her.
I was across the room in seconds, a warmth like I had not felt in so long blooming inside me, filling my stomach and chest and limbs as I enfolded her into my arms, heard my name fall from her now trembling lips followed by a sob of what I recognized as happiness.
I tangled my fingers in her hair, pulling so I could see her face, her lovely, wonderful, beautiful face, the most beautiful face I had ever seen, and I was kissing her lips, her nose, her forehead and eyelids and chin, anywhere I could reach.
She smiled and pulled me close as I buried my face into her neck, breathing her in. She did not smell like she always had, but then again could I even remember? She only smelled cold, if cold had a smell—even her hair did not smell like anything.
“Stjarna,” I said, grinning widely, feeling my own eyes sting with tears. I could not think to stammer anything but her name, her name which to my eternal regret I had almost forgotten. “Stjarna, Stjarna…”
I pulled back to look at her again and saw tears streaming down her face, and it was only then when I finally registered the deadly pallor of her skin. My brows furrowed in concern as I gently ran my thumb over her cool, wet cheek.
“Stjarna?”
I turned to Hel, anger rising suddenly in me like a wave.
“Why is she here?” I demanded furiously. It was a leap, but with how shrewdly Hel had been smirking, presenting Stjarna to me as a “gift,” led me to believe she’d had something to do with this.
Hel quirked an eyebrow. “She died, obviously.”
I stared at her.
“No, Loki,” Stjarna said, and her voice sent a rivulet of pleasure through me, momentarily quelling the anger inside me. She took my face in her hands and I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers, shiny with tears. “I was in Vanaheim—”
“Vanaheim? Why were you in Vanaheim?”
“I…” she faltered, appearing almost pained. “After you killed Freyja, Valdrlund demanded recompense. Thor had no choice…”
“I don’t understand…”
Her lips trembled. “I was… I was the recompense, Loki…”
“Thorgave you to him?” I growled, gritting my teeth.
“He had to,” she said sadly. “I did not want to go, but there was nothing to be done. Valdrlund threatened war.”
Suddenly, something awful took form in my mind, banishing this warmth inside and filling me instead with this cold dread.
“Did he… what did he…” I placed my hands on hers on my cheeks, staring at her in worry.
“I did it, Loki,” Stjarna said, managing a quivering smile. “I killed him.”
My lips parted in surprise.
“We were… we were…” she glanced down now, reluctant to speak. “He insulted you and I grew so angry, Loki, for all he had done and I… I…”
“Oh, Stjarna,” I breathed, closing my eyes and pressing my forehead to hers, worry churning sickeningly inside me. “Did they hurt you?”
“No. They were going to execute me, but…” Stjarna’s large grey eyes flickered over to Hel, who tilted her head and shrewdly curtsied when acknowledged.
“Hel?”
“I paid her a little visit in prison,” Hel explained nonchalantly. “It was no trouble.”
So that was where Hel had been this morning.
I turned back to Stjarna, knowing not whether to feel rage for her having died by the hands of my daughter, or joy for her standing here with me.
“You may go,” Hel said, not bothering to mask her arrogant smile, as I took Stjarna’s hand and led her out. “I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.”
Her harsh laughter rang out as the doors closed resoundingly behind us.
__
I could not stop looking at her, even as I led her slowly and aimlessly around Eljudnir.
I was remembering every aspect of her features, both saddened and upset with myself that I could have dared to forget any part of her. Her laugh, her smile, the way her hand felt against me or lips upon mine.
It was as if something had opened up inside me, something I could not explain, and every waking moment from then on I needed to be with her, to remind me of the light and love I had lost and so desperately wanted back, everything I had forgotten and wanted to remember.
I had Stjarna recount to me everything that had happened since my death, which I learned had been less than two years ago. Stjarna possessed a much heartier memory than I had when I had come here, but I suspected it had something to do with the way she had died and Hel being the one to have personally brought her here to Helheim.
As she spoke I studied her face, the way her lips formed every syllable, her hand movements, and I was conjuring memories I believed to have been permanently buried or even gone. The tiniest details began to emerge from my subconscious with every word and I wanted to be angry for all that had transpired after my death to my beloved Vana, and that we should be reunited in such a dreadful place, but I could hardly evoke the emotion with her standing so real in front of me, all smiles and void of any negativity.
She was here now, and we were together again.
“Tell me of this place,” Stjarna said as we walked around the edge of the palace, lacing her fingers with mine. “Hel did not say much.”
And so I told her of Helheim, a bleak and lonely realm divided into nine regions where the dead resided, domed by a sky that wasn’t a sky, but still by some magic gave the appearance of night and day. I spoke of our life here, and much in the same way Hel had explained everything to me when I had come here.
How these forms we possessed were not our actual bodies, but what was left of our souls manifested physically here. We still behaved like the living—eating, drinking, carousing, and even breathing, despite the fact we did not need to.
I laughed when Stjarna tried it and was startled upon realizing she did not have to actually breathe, but preferred to like the rest of us to retain some semblance of our life.
Inevitably, she inquired about Hel and Angrboda.
At that point we were headed back to my chambers, having inadvertently explored most of the grounds.
“Hel is queen here.”
“And she is your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“By Angrboda?”
“Yes.”
Stjarna was quiet for a long moment.
“Hel told me Angrboda was here, as well.”
I nodded, not really wanting to speak of Angrboda for the shame coursing through me now. Could I bear to tell her I had taken up with my giantess again? But of course I could not stay with Angrboda.
I did not speak on it.
“These are my chambers,” I announced when we finally reached them. I opened the door, praying Angrboda was elsewhere.
Stjarna entered and I shut the door behind me and quietly locked it, in case Angrboda decided to drop in any time soon. I’d have to find her later, tell her we were done. I almost found it surprising, how entirely I had devoted myself to her, and seemingly felt nothing now that Stjarna was here. Angrboda would not be pleased with my fleeting emotions.
Stjarna walked around, quietly studying my rooms.
“It is similar to your chambers on Asgard,” she remarked softly.
My eyes followed her as she continued her slow, investigatory procession around the room, touching various things. I was surprised somewhat at her comment, that here she should remember so trivial a fact, though it was strangely comforting to hear those words.
“Some things are different, though it is much the same,” she observed, wandering out to the balcony. “I will get used to it, though.”
“You will, as did I,” I answered, coming up behind her to wrap my arms around her waist.
“Are you happy here, Loki?”
“I am now,” I replied, kissing her cheek from behind.
“It almost does not seem real,” she mused somberly, leaning into me. “I did not think I would ever see you again.”
I only kissed her, hopefully offering some comfort, and unwilling to admit I had nearly forgotten her. I wondered if I had ever been this ashamed in my previous life. I doubted it.
“I am glad Hel brought me here, though,” Stjarna continued, turning in my arms to face me. She cupped my face and lifted up on her toes to gently kiss my lips. “It matters not where I am, as long as I am with you.”
I grinned, soaking up her words, and did not think I could wait any longer.
Stjarna giggled knowingly as I pulled her backwards into my chambers, drawing her tight against me so I could rain kisses eagerly across her face. She just as fervently returned my affections, and we lay together for the first time in seemingly forever, and in the end it was as if nothing had changed between us, save for the ceasing of our hearts.
My Stjarna was so different from Angrboda. There was something in her kisses not present in Angrboda’s, warmth in her eyes instead of cold pitilessness, the way she gasped my name so filled with reverence, clutching at me as if I was the source of her existence, and how afterwards when we lay breathless, still entwined, she enfolded herself into me and told me how much she loved me.
Since neither of us wished to be anywhere but here with the other, Stjarna and I remained in my chambers the rest of the afternoon and all through the evening and night—talking, joking, reminiscing and making love. It was the happiest I had been since I could remember, and in those moments could not imagine what possibly might come next. But for now, I hardly cared.
__
Some days passed, all of them in a haze.
I came to peace quite quickly with Stjarna’s arrival. Of course I was delighted to have her with me again, but initially had hardly known who to be furious with. Valdrlund for daring to claim her and abuse her, or Thor for sending her off to Vanaheim in the first place; Hel for bringing Stjarna here, or Stjarna for being more than happy to die to be with me again.
Stjarna assured me repeatedly that all was well and she was happy, when I began to think of it and would grow angry all over again. Eventually, I tried to not think of it like that, and only considered the fact that Stjarna was here with me again.
Hel thought it all quite amusing, commenting laughingly that she would never have expected me to behave in such a manner. I cared not, though—Stjarna was here and was all I could think of. We spent every waking moment together.
One day I was strolling around the grounds with Stjarna. A dry breeze was blowing, occasionally whipping up the dusty ground.
“Loki?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, anything.”
Stjarna appeared reluctant and we stopped.
“Is Valdrlund here?”
I was silent for a moment.
“Hel explained it to me like this. All are equal here, no matter what we were in our past life. He is here, but he likely does not remember any of his past life. If he does, he will soon forget it.”
“Why do I not?” she asked curiously. “I have heard this, but I remember everything.”
I looked up, thinking.
“Perhaps it was the way you died. I will admit, Stjarna, I was forgetting much of my life until you came here. Oddly enough you being with me now reminds me of much of it.”
She smiled. “That is a good thing?”
I grinned at her and took her hand in mine, continuing to walk. “That is a very good thing.”
“My parents are here, aren’t they?”
“Yes, as are mine.”
I had thought of them, Frigga and Odin. Sometimes it pained me to think they were here, that though we might be so close, I might never see them, and they might not even remember me. It seemed amazing how drastically things had changed, and how much initially I had forgotten even of them. I knew in my life I had loved and revered Odin, and at one time reviled him, but nothing seemed so important anymore. I knew if I could, I might embrace him again if I saw him, and my mother…
“I wonder if they found one another here,” Stjarna wondered. “I wonder if they are happy.”
I knew not how to reply to that, and Stjarna appeared saddened.
By now we had reached the training grounds. There was not a soul in sight, but then again there never was unless I was training.
“Is there war here?” Stjarna asked, gazing inquisitively at a weapon rack.
“No. The most conflict in this place is between individuals.”
“So why did you build this?”
“I was bored.”
Stjarna laughed. “Well, I am glad there is a library. I never thought there would be a library in the realm of the dead.”
I smiled, but Stjarna wasn’t looking at me anymore. I followed her suddenly somber gaze across the training yard and my guts immediately tightened.
Standing serenely by herself on the path on the other side of the yard, and staring at us, was Angrboda.
I highly doubted she had been strolling around Eljudnir by herself and just so happened to end up at the training ground the same time as us.
“Is that Angrboda?” Stjarna asked softly.
I looked at her, almost not wishing to admit it.
“Yes.”
Stjarna gave a small nod and did not resist as I hooked her arm with mine and turned us to continue our walk in the direction we had just come from.
Having them speak was the last thing I wanted, if only to spare Stjarna the sordid details I knew Angrboda would only be too happy to divulge.
__
A few days later, there was a meeting of representatives.
I slipped out of bed, readied, and kissed Stjarna before leaving. She stretched, smiling at me as I told her I would be gone for a few hours, but I would be back soon.
The meeting was boring, as usual. Nothing of interest, though Hel did snap at Gaumr when he interrupted her and spoke a little too sharply to another representative.
Afterwards, I headed back to my chambers, eager to slip back into bed with Stjarna.
I rounded a corner and was only momentarily surprised to see Angrboda leaning against a column, obviously waiting for me.
“Good morning,” she purred, eyes locked on me. By her expression it did not appear to truly be a good morning.
“Angrboda,” I coolly acknowledged.
“This might be a bit of a leap, Loki, but… I do think you’ve been avoiding me.”
“You’re just now noticing that?” I dismissed, going to brush past her.
“Busy with that new plaything of yours?”
I stopped, unable to help the smile that spread involuntarily across my face.
“Are you jealous, darling?” I smirked, turning with somewhat of an arrogant flourish.
The corner of her lips twitched, but then she returned my smile and sauntered deliberately up to me.
“Why would I be jealous, Loki? I know she cannot possibly satisfy you as I did.”
I laughed, amused at the notion, when Angrboda stepped closer and placed her hand on my chest.
“You don’t look at her like you do me, I see it.”
“Then you are blind as well as ignorant,” I retorted. “There is no one I look at as I do you, but it is not with what you want, Angrboda.”
“So what were all of those heated declarations, Loki? When you told me you loved me and I was all there was?”
“Chalk it up to my being drunk on death, darling,” I replied tautly.
Angrboda was not amused.
“Would she see it as such?” she asked, running her fingers down my arm.
I pulled away, vaguely annoyed.
“You do not love her as you do me.”
“You’re right,” I replied, attempting somewhat to mask my true emotion. It almost pained me to admit it, but some part of me loved Angrboda. I had admitted it to myself long ago, and to her multiple times, in the dark of the night and clouded in lust and headiness, but it was not the type of love I held for Stjarna. It was a love I was more than willing to leave to die.
“Why do you partake in this foolishness?” she demanded, suddenly heated, when I went to turn, realizing she was losing whatever was left of this useless conversation. “Why do you waste your time on that Vana wench?”
“I am not wasting my time,” I retorted. “But you are. You and I, we’re through.”
Angrboda’s brows slightly lifted, but other than that there was nothing else to betray her emotion.
“You spurn me for her?”
“It was always her, Angrboda,” I replied, somewhat exasperated. “I—”
“You think Hel did you a favor, Loki?” Angrboda snarled, baring her sharpened teeth. “You think she did this out of love?”
“Absolutely not,” I responded immediately, unwilling to fall into Angrboda’s baiting. “Whatever manifests itself in Hel is not love.”
I had not spoken much to Hel since Stjarna’s arrival here in Helheim, but then again had been pretty much taken up with Stjarna and been able to think of little else. I did not dismiss Angrboda’s accusation, though. I had no doubt Hel had done this simply to spite her mother, whom she hated.
“Of course she killed your lover only to torment me.”
“What, can you not to stand to lose me, Angrboda?” I laughed. “It is almost comical. You finally have me after so long, and now I’m snatched away again.”
That must’ve been the wrong thing to say to an angry giantess; I did not flinch or recoil as she came quickly forward and roughly took a fistful of my tunic in her hands, pulling me close.
“Are you spited, love?” I taunted.
She pressed her lips together, black eyes narrowed dangerously.
“You think me jealous of that her, Loki? She is naught more than a distraction.”
“From what?” I goaded.
“Your true purpose.”
I chuckled, realizing. Angrboda believed Hel had given Stjarna to me to prevent Angrboda’s grand scheme for me, one of the reasons she had gifted me the sword Laevantinn. Occupied these past days with Stjarna, I had practically forgotten Angrboda’s lust for me to go to war for her against the world, to lead an army of the dead against those who had wronged her.
“You laugh, but you cannot see,” she spat.
“And what is it that I do not see?” I asked tightly, reaching to disentangle her fingers from my tunic.
“Your destiny,” Angrboda growled. “Fucking her will not stop it.”
“The only destiny you hope for me will never come to be,” I said firmly. “And whatever there is left of it, you are no longer a part of it.”
I turned to leave, but before I could make it even a step, abruptly I felt Angrboda’s iron grip on my shoulder and she jerked me backwards and spun me around to confront her fury.
“You will not spurn me for that Vana whore!”
“Do not touch me, Angrboda,” I bit out, any semblance of restraint vanished with her hostility towards Stjarna.
“Do not think that I won’t—”
But before Angrboda could spit another word out, my hand was around her throat and her back to the wall. I dug my fingers into her neck, pressing the length of my forearm firmly against her front to keep her still.
“You will stay away from her,” I growled, staring fixedly into the angry, inky blackness of her eyes. “If you dare to touch her, I will kill you, and not even our daughter will be able to save you.”
Her gaze was cold, wrathful.
“Only for you, lover.”
I remained motionless, debating on whether to describe to her in lurid detail the endless agony I might inflict on her if she were to carry out any harm against Stjarna, but then I had no doubt Angrboda already had some idea what might befall her if she were to proceed with any part of her vengeful deliberations.
I roughly released her, turned on my heel, and returned to my chambers, where I found Stjarna still sleeping peacefully.
__
A few days later, Stjarna and I were relaxing in my chambers.
We had spent nearly the entire morning in bed before requesting for food to be brought. The remains of our little midday meal lay on my table. I lounged in bed, finishing a glass of dark red wine. For the realm of the dead, Helheim’s vineyard produced remarkably delicious wines.
Stjarna was standing at the open window, a fairly sheer robe wrapped around her, hands poised lightly on the sill. Soon after Stjarna’s arrival, I had requested of Hel a wardrobe made for Stjarna. I would not have my lover dressed here forever in her death shroud. She was staring outside, watching the rain fall and turning the already barren landscape even greyer.
“It rains here,” Stjarna murmured.
“Yes, I believe there is some enchantment over this place,” I replied from the bed. “It certainly does help with the monotony.”
“I’m glad it rains,” she said. In her voice I detected a hint of sadness, so I set the glass of wine on the bedside table and got up to stand behind her. I wrapped my arms around Stjarna and she melted into my embrace.
“Why do you like that it rains?” I inquired.
She shrugged.
“It is just something else like up there.”
“Ah,” I said, somewhat uncertainly. Then, tentatively, masking the tinge of worry, “Are you unhappy here?”
“No,” she replied, turning in my arms. She cupped my face in her hands and offered me a small, reassuring smile. “I am simply thinking about my family.”
“Konavefr and Dreyma and the boys?” I offered. I suspected Stjarna’s step-mother and sister-in-law and nephews still resided in Asgard.
She nodded. “I wonder if they… if they know…”
I kissed her forehead. “There’s no way to tell, but I’d suspect not.”
She gave a little nod and let her hands fall slowly to my chest. “It is almost comforting to know that.”
“I am sorry,” I murmured.
“It cannot be helped,” she replied with a small smile. “I am only grateful we are together again.”
I placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then her nose, and swallowed.
“Stjarna?”
“Hmm?” She murmured, leaning into me and moving her hands around my sides to my back.
I hesitated.
Shortly after Stjarna had arrived here in Helheim, and we had begun reminiscing over all that happened, I had recalled that shortly before my death, I had asked Stjarna to marry me. I had not spoken of it, but constantly it was nagging at the back of my mind.
But I could remember now Stjarna’s reaction in Asgard, and did not hesitate now.
“Will you marry me?”
There was a brief silence, then she pulled back to stare at me. Her lips were parted in surprise and I grinned amusedly, moving to grab her hands and lace her fingers with mine.
“We were not able to get quite that far, if you remember…”
“I remember,” she whispered, lips curling into a smile. “You still want to marry me?”
At that, I burst into laughter.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I still want to marry you, Stjarna. I always wanted to, I was just too stupid to realize it for most of the time.”
Stjarna echoed my laughter and it was music to my ears.
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: mentions of death, kidnapping, violence, language
I remember working with the Widow, her and I were… co-workers at one point, long ago before she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. And today’s work involves something a little different than working together. It has been at least five years that the Widow abandoned her post as a world famous assassin, and abandoned me as well. Her name is Black Widow and her and I were once a great team of assassins. Give us an order and we would get the job done within 48 hours. We were well known by mercenaries and assailants. We worked with Department X and trained at the Red Room, I’ve known Natalia for at least 20 years but today I renounce all of it. Her betrayal, her double-cross of me… hurt, and I was trained to never feel emotion. Natalia knows I’ve been going after her for years now, ever since she went of the radar and then appeared, with S.H.I.E.L.D behind her. So today is the day that I end it all.
~~~**~~~
I sat perched on a rooftop in New York, not far down from the Avengers tower, I heard that the Widow was supposed to be doing a little session with a small kids karate class. How cute. I had my rifle set up and my scope attached, peering through I searched for the Widow. It didn’t take long, about 20 minutes in I spotted her, the red hair, clear skin, and the S.H.I.E.L.D symbol on her catsuit. I took aim, cocking my head to inspect my target, making sure I would have a clear and clean shot. The Widow was standing still, perfect, but I didn’t shoot, someone was coming down the alley and was calling the Widow’s name. I was now curious. Information is always an asset. That was one of the first things you learned at the Red Room. I wish I brought all of my equipment, I could only read so much from lips. “So you need my help,” The man from the alley said The Widow paused, suspicious, “Yes” The man cocked his head, “What for?” “You know I am unable to tell you that,” The Widow replied The rest of the conversation was cut off when they turned towards the alleyway. I wrote my encounter on a piece of paper and stuck it in one of my many pockets. It was interesting to see the Widow do business without the rest of the avengers with her. Clearly the rest of the avengers didn’t know about this. The conversation between the Widow and the man ended quickly and the Widow then went on her way to the Karate class. I waited for a half hour when the Widow appeared again, I took aim waiting for the perfect moment. She walked down the sidewalk at an easy pace, not in a rush. It was easy to keep a target on her. I kept my finger on the trigger, perfectly still. This was my favourite part, the impatience of the kill, the way your heart beats faster as the kill comes closer. I let out a breath. I pull the trigger.
But I miss……
How…
This can’t be happening…
I never miss…
I see the Widow duck and cover her head and I start to quickly disassemble and pack my equipment. But as I work, I spot a shadow in my peripheral vision and I take out a dagger that was strapped to my leg. I hold it close to me, ready to strike.
The shadow comes towards me at an eerie pace.
And as I stand up to strike, I feel a black sack come over my face from behind. I am in darkness.
This was an ambush, Natalia knew I would be here tonight.
I was handcuffed, picked up, and thrown into something sort of a van.
TITLE OF STORY: The Loki Equation CHAPTER NUMBER: Part 24 AUTHOR: Spiesinthedark WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: Adventure/Romance FIC SUMMARY: Odd things begin to happen to a fanfiction writer…. RATING: T WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Language
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The Loki Equation - Part 24
Loki’s car motored into a section of Charlotte that I had never been to, which said a lot. My roommate Mary and I took pride in our knowledge of the city, and most of our weekends in college had been spent driving and walking every neighborhood we could find. This place was unfamiliar, and honestly, I wished it would stay that way.
The streets were dark. Streetlights were few and far in between. What few there were were either smashed out or flickering sporadically. Big warehouses lined each side of the pitted, pothole-filled road. There were chain link fences, and the occasional vacant lot filled with trash. Buildings were dark, and there wasn’t a single human in sight. Not a city bus or stray cat, no movement at all. This was literally Silent Hill.
Loki swung his car around on Epsom Street, pulling up outside a grey warehouse with a sign that read “Foster Corp.”. He shut the headlights off and we sat in the dark for a few minutes. There were no lights on in the building, no cars in the small parking lot, which was lit by a single, dim floodlight.
“This is the place?” I asked Loki, peering through the window.
“Yes,” he replied, his eyes focused in the same direction as mine. “There is at least one book here, according to the source that I found.”
I twisted in my seat, to look at him. He hadn’t been clear on exactly what these books were, although I had helped him find two of them. I said as much to him now.
Loki sighed, and answered without looking at me. “Without overly complicating the explanation, they are what you would consider to be ‘magic’. They contain quite a lot of arcane wisdom and spells, powerful even in my world, which is why they were kept apart, in four cities. When all four are put together, the magic builds up, ready for anyone with the intent to use it, whether that is for good or…evil.”
He looked down at me now, and added “They should not be here, on your world, let alone all in the same city.”
I took this all this info in, and asked “Where are the two that we’ve already found?”.
“Back in Asgard, safe” he answered, smiling slightly.
“Okay, so everything should be fine, right? Don’t all four need to be in the same place for the end of the world to happen?” I asked.
Loki’s eyebrows raised, but he still answered “Even one book has enough power to destroy half of this city, if the wrong person figures out how to use it. It’s vital that the remaining two are found and returned to their homes.”
Fair enough, it made sense. I didn’t really believe in magic, as much as I loved Harry Potter. That opinion was slowly changing, though, the more time I spent with Loki. He made things happen that I couldn’t explain and had a nasty habit of showing up in my apartment when I KNOW I locked my door. Not to mention he could make a basket of cheese fries disappear in two minutes flat while I was in the restroom.
“What’s the plan?” I asked him, unbuckling my seat belt and pulling the pink flashlight out of my hoodie pocket.
He unbuckled too, turning the car off and pocketing the keys. “We get into the building and find the book, hopefully avoiding anyone that may be on guard inside”.
“What about cameras?” I asked, “Or an alarm system?”
He smiled and angled out of the car, shutting the door behind him. I followed, shutting my own door as quietly as possible. “The cameras won’t work while I’m in the area” he said.
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, finding that hard to believe.
His smile was bright in the darkness. “I think you are confusing me with the men you’re used to, darling. I’m a god, remember?”.
Be still, my heart. We were about to commit a B&E and he was still charming. Good thing I had a pretty clear arrest record, just in case.
Loki had parked half a block down from the building’s private parking lot, so we made our way across the grass and around to the side of the warehouse. He went first, with me trailing along behind, flashlight in hand, making our way to a side door.
I trained the flashlight beam on the door handle, while Loki tried it. Locked. He put his shoulder to it, and to my extreme surprise, the lock popped and the door swung inward. “Wow,” I whispered, “Nice!”. He grinned at me, and we stepped through the dark doorway, shutting the slightly dented door behind us.
No alarm sounded, so I figured that was a good sign. I shined the flashlight around the room. It was an office, but a really empty one. There were big glass windows on one end of the room, with blinds covering them. A few small desks were positioned around the room, each with a folding chair. As we moved around the room, I noticed that there were no computers. No phones either. There were file cabinets on one wall, and I curiously pulled one open. Empty. I randomly pulled open another cabinet, empty as well. I pointed this out to Loki.
“Well, my previous theory was correct” he whispered to me, “This is a shell office. No work happens here, I imagine.”
I believed him, that’s exactly what it looked like. What kind of office had no phones, computers, files, or even a coffee machine? A fake office, that’s what kind. I crossed the room and peeked out of the blinds. It was the parking lot in front of the building.
“This is the office section of the building,” I quietly said to Loki, “Door over there must lead to the warehouse part”. I pointed to the door to the right, and Loki put his ear to it.
“I don’t hear anything on the other side,” he said, trying the door handle. This one wasn’t locked.
He slowly pushed the door open, and I shined my flashlight in. The sight inside made both of our mouths drop open.
“Shit” he breathed. I completely agreed with his sentiment
TITLE OF STORY: The Loki Equation CHAPTER NUMBER: Part 23 AUTHOR: Spiesinthedark WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: Adventure/Romance FIC SUMMARY: Odd things begin to happen to a fanfiction writer…. RATING: PG-13 WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Language, sexual innuendos
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“Why do you have that look on your face?”
“I don’t know…it’s just…not what I expected.”
“And what were you expecting, exactly?”
“Well…not this color, that’s for sure. And it’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be, honestly.”
“Thank you darling. How does it feel?”
“Good. It’s heavy, but I feel like I could hit someone with it.”
I hefted the thick pink flashlight, miming a swing at an imaginary adversary’s head. I don’t know if I could kill someone with it, but it could do some serious damage, despite the unfortunate color.
Loki had dropped a gym bag onto my dining room table and was digging through it, handing things out to me. A black sweatshirt, a fanny pack, a retractable stick thing that could easily bust out a kneecap or two. And granola bars, bless him. I’m a snacker.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked, pulling the sweatshirt over my head and picking up the fanny pack.
He pulled out what looked like a building blueprint, spreading it out and holding down the corners with few snack bars. “This is, allegedly, a shipping company’s warehouse. It’s on the south side of the city, and could possibly be the hiding place of one of the two remaining books that we need to recover. Or so I have gathered from a charming individual that resisted my questioning…at first.”
“Why do you say allegedly?” I asked.
“I have completed some preliminary research. The building has no registered owners or executives, no phone number, no internet presence, nothing other than the sign out front.” he responded, peering down at the outline of doors, windows and hallways. Imaging him browsing the internet was a weird visual, I wondered if he had seen porn of himself.
I knew that what he was saying was serious business, but I was having a hard time focusing. He had on a black sweater that was just the right amount of tight, an his green eyes were startlingly bright. He was flush with the thought of a chase. He was saying something about roughing someone up. Hot. I was wondering if I could convince him to rough me up a little. It had been a while.
“…they knocked the woman out, smashed the case and took the book, and set the building ablaze. She recovered in time to escape through a window and went to the authorities. My contact was there during the initial report and passed along the information. Why are you looking at me like that?”
I became vaguely aware that he was speaking to me, and snagged a granola bar to cover my tracks. “So we storm the place, kick butt, and then run away with the book in hand, right?” I asked, fumbling with the wrapper.
His smile was brilliant. “I am surprised, I did not think you were listening.”
“Are you kidding me? Look at me, I am all ears. The very picture of attention.”
Loki, god of mischief and lies, snorted. What a gentleman.
He took the snack from my hand, put it own onto the table, and backed me into the counter. “You’re distracted,” he murmured into my ear, “Would you like to fill me in on your thoughts?”
I absolutely did not. Honestly, the recon mission was the last thing on my to-do list, and he had just rocketed to the top. That sweater needed to come off. And then those pants. And then my pants. I’d probably keep the sweatshirt on, it was cold in my apartment. The books could wait a few hours, right? Did the apocalypse have a ticking timer, counting down? I didn’t think so, but what the heck do I know.
“How long do we have until we need to leave?” I asked, leaning back to look at his face. The crick in my neck was 100% worth it.
His eyes gleamed and darkened, and his smile got wide. “Not long enough, I’m afraid.” I guessed they don’t have quickies where he was from. He was right though, the sky outside the windows was dark and I could see the glow of the streetlights. He had shown up as the sun was setting, nudging his way past me to dig through my fridge before filling me in on his information and game plan.
Loki stepped back, putting space between us and allowing me to breathe again. He handed me the flashlight, and I tucked it into my sweatshirt pocket. Clipping on the fanny pack, I rolled the blueprints up too.
“What’s the chance of us getting shot?” I asked, halfway joking.
“If you stay close to me, highly unlikely” he replied, tucking the bars into my pack. His hands at my waist were warm and gentle as he zipped me up.
“Are you bulletproof?”
“Better, I’m a god.”
“Pardon me your highness.”
We left my apartment shortly after, locking the door behind us and silently making our way down to his car. We buckled in, and he navigated onto the freeway, headed towards the south end.
I had the feeling of impending doom following close behind us. Hopefully his royal highness was all he claimed to be, because I sure as shit wasn’t bulletproof.
(It’s been a VERY long time since I’ve posted. Please, lovely mods, have mercy on me if I submit any of this incorrectly)
TITLE OF STORY: The Loki Equation CHAPTER NUMBER: Part 22 AUTHOR: Spiesinthedark WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: Adventure/Romance FIC SUMMARY: Odd things begin to happen to a fanfiction writer…. RATING: T WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None
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The kiss to end all kisses. As in, you could literally die after it’s over because nothing will ever be that good again. A kiss that you wish you could package and sell because you’d be a billionaire in record time. It went on for eternity.
When Loki pulled away, I had no words. I know that sounds completely cliche, and I always thought the saying was bologna, at least until it happened to me. I swear I always have words, it’s one of the lovely things about me. I also felt like I had no bones left, and that was a new feeling as well. I probably would have slid to the floor like a damsel in distress if he hadn’t had a tight grip on my waist.
It was straight out of a movie scene: I was weak in the knees and confused, smooched to the edge of the Earth and brought back in a snap by the intense stare coming from the green eyes inches from my face. I was having a hard time focusing, because he was pressed up against me and was oddly warm. He wasn’t helping either, breathing heavily with his fingers curled into the waistband of my leggings.
“You’re going to rip my pants” I said, breathless.
“I’ll buy you new ones” was the reply, equally low on air.
Wow. I was lucky the clothing item in question didn’t catch fire. Probably because they were way too damp.
It was just flippant enough to give us both pause. The laughter started in me, bursting out with the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. I had tried to stab him, and then he tried to end my world with his mouth. He was caught up in it as well, he had let me go and was doubled over my counter. We both ended up on the floor of my kitchen, gasping, my eyes freely streaming tears and he, drying his own eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. I hadn’t laughed that hard in weeks, and the release felt way better than any orgasm I’d had recently.
He snagged a dishtowel off my stove and handed it to me. I dabbed at my face, getting myself under control. “I’m so sorry”, I said, “Didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”.
He stretched his legs out, smiling, still getting his laughter under control. “The mood was begging to be ruined, lovely. I am sorry as well, I was caught up.” His eyes met mine again, and his burned with a dark green fire. “I’ve missed you.”
I wasn’t about to admit that I missed him too, not that easily. Although if we’re being honest, it was probably apparent on my face. I don’t hide emotions well.
“I honestly thought I’d never see you again,” I said, “I assumed you’d found the other two books, or found some other sucker to drag around”.
His eyes hadn’t left my face, so I could see the fire in them dim slightly. “No, to all assumptions. The other two books are still out in the world, and I could never convince anyone else to come with me, even if I wanted another.” he said, reaching out a hand and wrapping his fingers around my ankle. “You want to ask where I was, don’t you?”
Caught. It must have been obvious.
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I said, “I forget that you’re not human. I’ve decided that I can’t hold you to the same standards that I would expect from anyone else.”
His eyebrows came together slightly, and he said quietly “No, I’m not human. But you are, and it was cruel of me to leave so suddenly. How long did you wait?”
“Hours. Then days.” I wouldn’t admit to weeks, that would open up the wound that I had worked so hard to close. The grip on my ankle tightened. Was it even possible for gods to feel bad? I hoped so.
“I’m sorry, Rachael.” A pause, then “Will you still help me?”
He had thrown me, headfirst, into a treasure hunt that had brought me face to face with arson, dead bodies, a criminal underworld, and possibly magic. He had eaten my food, kept me safe, kept me not-so-safe, vanished on me and come back again. He had planted a kiss on me that shattered my reality in the best way possible.
“Of course.”
The God of Mischief and Lies and the Fanfiction Writer would save the world together.
Summary:OC is a lawyer visiting her best friend in New York. Will she fall for the charming doctor? Or will her neverending conflict with the god of mischief lead to more?
Tags:Post-Endgame, AU where everyone is alive and well, Eventual Smut, Fluff with some Angst, Second Person POV, No Y/N, Avenger Loki.
You shouldn’t have left this early. The train to the airport was empty, and your head felt like it was on the verge of exploding. Waking up in the middle of the night to secure the cheap morning flight never felt worth it at 3 a.m.
Your phone vibrated in your left pocket as you were falling asleep, forcing you to move uncomfortably to get it out as the bag on your lap weighed you down. “Hello?”
“Good Morning! Are you at the airport already?” A cheerful voice asked on the other side of the line.
“I am on the train, should be there in fifteen minutes. Are you picking me up from the airport?” You asked as your voice gained some energy. You were exhausted, but the excitement to see your best friend after so long tramped it all.
“Of course, I will! What type of host would I be otherwise? Excited to see New York?” She tried to continue the conversation after hearing the sleepiness in your voice, scared you would fall asleep on the train and miss your flight.
“I am more excited to leave London. I am only visiting to get away from this city and maybe meet an Avenger or two.” You joked, pushing the bag from your lap to the floor before your blood circulation halted completely.
“Bitch, you don’t want to meet the Avengers. 99% of the time they are around, something bad is about to happen. You don’t wanna be there” Sophie was not a big Avengers fan, but who could blame her? She lived in New York. She had to live through every fuck up Tony Stark, and his friends caused.
“Whatever, I hope I get a picture with at least one of them. I will be snooping around the city for them."
…
You talked with Sophie for the rest of your train ride, got to the airport safely with plenty of time and boarded. The flight was quick, and you slept most of the way.
You were starving by the time you went through security and picked up your bag. Thankfully, your best friend would want to grab food as soon as she picked you up. You were excited to have access to all the American food chains you could not get in London.
As soon as you stepped out of the security area, you spotted Sophie waving at you excitedly. You ran towards her as fast as your backpack and gigantic suitcase would allow.
"Aaaah, babe, I cannot believe you are finally here!” She hugged you tightly. It was like a suffocating breath of fresh air to hug her again after so long. So much had changed since you last saw each other, and although phone calls helped, it was nothing like having her by your side. She smelled like your childhood and felt like home, even after all these years.
“You look super hot! Where are you coming from?” You asked her as soon as she let go of you. She was wearing a lovely fancy red dress that gave her a corporate look you were not used to.
“Just work, I had to deal with a last-minute issue, but everything should be fine now. I am all yours for the rest of the day.” She reassured you, grabbing your suitcase. “Let’s get you some food now.”
“Great! I am starving!”
…
You grabbed a quick bite and caught up on the latest news in your life. You were both still very much single, but she was hoping to fix that. On the other hand, you wanted to stay away from any serious commitment, too busy with work. Sophie told you that she was working in some Risk Management corporate position, and well, you were about to make associate at a law firm in London. Five weeks from now, you would not have time for anything or anyone but work. So this was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy your last weeks of freedom before working in something completely different from your original law school dreams.
After grabbing brunch, you headed to Sophie’s place. She must have been making good money from the looks of her beautiful apartment in a building in Manhattan. You did not know a lot about rental prices in New York, but if they were even close to anything in London, this was an expensive place to rent.
“Girl! I guess they are paying you very well at your new job!” You teased her as you entered the beautiful flat.
“They have to. I am constantly saving their asses. They make me work 24/7, so the least they can do is give me enough money to have a nice place to crash after work.” She responded dramatically, taking off her heels.
“Look at her, Sophie Meyer, Columbia Graduate,” you pointed at the graduation pictures on her wall. That had been the last time you two had seen each other almost four years ago (or nine if you counted the time you were gone). “This city is magnificent at night, and I must say, this is a little nicer than my view in London”, you added, pointing at the breathtaking skyline surrounding her living room.
“So, although I may be making enough money to have a nice apartment is still a one-bedroom, so we will have to snuggle up together. Like the old times.” She said, reminiscing all the times she visited you in London, and you had to share your bed. “I have work tomorrow, but I should be free all weekend just for you. Feel free to do whatever you please, go Avengers hunting in Central Park or whatever,” she joked.
You spent the rest of the afternoon giving her the gifts you had brought from London and catching up on gossip about your families and friends from school. By 10 p.m., you were exhausted and jetlagged and decided to head to bed while Sophie sent some more emails.
…
The morning after, you awoke to the smell of coffee and the tumbling of objects in the living room.
“Yes. I will be there in 20 minutes. No problem. Have a good day.” Sophie mumbled on the phone while trying to sip on her coffee as she put on her heels. Today she was rocking another dress, this time a navy blue one which was flowier and had a ribbon on the front.
She ended the call and screamed, “fuck, fuck, fuck I have to go. Now."
"Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart. Where are you headed to at….” You looked at your watch “7 in the morning?”
“My boss needs me. There has been some complication with a contract that was leaked to the press. I have to solve it. Ouch,” she added as she finally managed to put on her shoes.
“I will see you for dinner?” You asked.
“Yes, yes. I’ll try my best to be here. I’ll ask my boss if I can introduce you to our team. You know, I need you to move to New York instead of starting that dumb, boring job in London.”
“Yes, whatever, Sophie. It is one of the most coveted positions in London. You should be proud of me like the rest of the world is.” You rolled your eyes at her, tired of her honesty and persistence on the topic.
“I am proud of you. I just think you are giving up everything you believe in, all your dreams. You know success is great, but your values have always been more important than that. We both know no amount of money or success will fulfil you as much as chasing your dreams. You need to do what makes you happy, not what others think you should do.” She argued while putting on her jacket, “Also, a friend from work asked me if I could take care of his dog while he is away, so we may have to do that. It is only for a couple of days. Anyway, I gotta go! Love you! Please be careful out there. This is not Notting Hill! Do not trust any strangers on the street! My spare keys are here. Please don’t lose them!” she added before walking out the door.
“Byee!” You screamed as she closed the door. Although Sophie was right, this job was not per se your dream job. It was the dream of 90% of lawyers. Giving up this opportunity would be naive, and it would disappoint many people, including your parents and law school friends. This was too much pressure for you to simply not go for it. You would find happiness in other aspects of your life, in your apartment in Notting Hill, in your nights out in Shoreditch, in the cat you wanted to adopt and in the men that would entertain your evenings.
…
You got ready to go on a walk; the day was super sunny, and the smell of spring filled the apartment. You painted your nails. You did that every day. It was inevitable; at some point during the day, you would start peeling it off and wouldn’t stop until it was all gone. It was a habit you had developed through your years in uni. It was either the nail polish or your nails and cuticles, so it was a tedious but necessary habit.
Opting for a comfortable yet stylish outfit, you wore a dress with flowers. You never know when you may run into an Avenger.
You spent the day on the streets of New York, window shopping and grabbed a slice of pizza for lunch before heading to the MET in the afternoon. Galleries were your favourite place in the world. Nothing giving you more peace than standing in front of a beautiful painting. Sometimes you wished you could just meet these artists and hear what they were thinking about while painting.
…
It had gotten dark by the time you got back to the flat. You took off your shoes and laid on the couch immobile and exhausted, until the entrance door opened again.
“Good afternoon, babe! How was your day out?” Sophie sang tired as she entered the flat and took off her heels.
“It was beautiful! I went to the MET, almost as nice as the National Gallery!” You joked, making her roll her eyes. “Anyway, how was your day, businesswoman? Chasing your boss around?”
“Yeah, whatever, it was nice, I ended up having lunch with the team, and I told them about you. My smart best friend from London sounds like somebody everyone wants to meet. I don’t think you wanna meet them, though; corporate Newyorkers are not as nice as corporate Londoners.”
“The fact that you are calling any corporate sell-out nice already says everything about your judgement on people”, you answered sarcastically.
“Woa woa woa, look who’s talking? Miss ‘I will work in Banking and M&A and watch the world burn’” she spoke, throwing her jacket at you.
“Now, to the important things. Is there anyone within your team you would like to set me up with? Because I did not come all the way to New York to go on Hinge dates.” You asked, lifting your eyebrow and making an insinuating face.
“I don’t know, really. I don’t think anyone in my team is soo up their ass to be your type. Wait.. mmh… Nah, but I will ask around. Maybe they know some narcissist, tall, skinny, dark-haired asshole. That’s still your type, right?”
“Yes, indeed. I am glad you still remember,” you matched her sarcastic tone, getting up to grab some water.
“Anyway, my coworker is coming later today to drop off his dog. He will be with us just for five days. I am sure you will be happy to have somebody keep you company while you walk around Central Park. He is a cutie, a big cuddly golden retriever, so all the eyes will be on you.” Sophie let you know and then added, “but going back to what we talked about before, babe. I don’t think you should go back to London, I really don’t. You were always keen to do something good for the world and help people, and now you are throwing all of that away."
"That’s not true. I will still do pro bono work once in a while,” you argued.
“You know that is not enough, and you will be unhappy. New York is a great place for you, and I will talk to my boss and tell him how awesome you are. We help people, babe, and you could do it too. I also know quite a few people that work for the UN. You could work there too.” She answered as you both sat on the couch.
“Is this why you invited me to New York? To kidnap me?” You laughed, and she kept her serious look.
Your conversation was interrupted by the intercom ringing. Sophie got up in a hurry to answer. “Yes, yes, I will be down in a second.” She hung up the phone and started putting her heels back on.
“Are we going downstairs to pick up the puppy?” You asked, curious to meet her coworker.
“No need, you can wait up here. I will be back in a minute.” She said, closing the door behind her.
…
After 10 minutes, the door slung open, and a giant golden retriever entered, dragging Sophie in with him. As soon as he saw you and Sophie dropped the leash, he ran and jumped on your lap, covering your whole body and almost suffocating you.
“Well, hello boy, what is your name?” You spoke to him sweetly, petting his head, trying to keep him calm as he tried to lick your face.
“His name is Bjorn. It means bear. He kind of is a bear.” Sophie answered for him, and you giggled as he moved from your lap to the side of the couch so you could finally pet him properly.
“Thank you for not suffocating me, Bjorn, you cutie.”
“I have just been informed that they need me to go into the office tomorrow morning. Will you be okay?” Sophie asked. “Also, I may have found somebody I can set you up with, but I am not 100% sure yet."
"Uhm, interesting; keep me updated.” You winked at her. “This cutie and I will go for a walk in Central Park, and then we can meet you at your office?” You asked without taking your eyes off the furball.
“That’s okay. I’ll meet you there, I’ll bring lunch, and we can eat in the park.”
…
You had a quick dinner, chitchatted while playing with the pup and then headed to bed. Sophie refused to show you a picture of your possible set-up, letting you know she needed to check some things before it was confirmed. Bjorn decided there was not enough space for the three of you on the bed and slept on the couch instead.
…
Around 8 in the morning, you woke up hearing the shower in the bathroom turn on. You got out of bed, went into the living room, grabbed Bjorn’s food from the bag the owner had prepared for you two and served him some kibble. He was still half asleep on the couch but jumped up as soon as he heard his food being served.
Sophie got ready and ran around, as stressed as the previous morning. “So plan for today, I go to work, we meet at Central Park, you find us a nice place to sit down and have lunch and tonight we go out for drinks? Saturday night fun?”
“Yes, sure,” you answered while petting Bjorn, who had joined you on the couch after devouring his breakfast.
“Please take care of Bjorn! Love you!” She said, closing the door behind her as last morning.
You made yourself some coffee and a sandwich and then proceeded to sit down on the couch, turning on the news. Tony Stark was being interviewed on his decision to accept Loki Odinson into the Avengers after what he had done in New York. Stark explained how Loki was under the control of Thanos and had now shown loyalty to the protection of earth and the Avengers team.
You did not know how to feel about it. It must be so difficult for the families of the people that died in the attack. Seeing the killer of their loved one free and revamped as a hero. However, if it is true that he was being controlled by Thanos, then he may deserve a second chance. You guessed this was another Winter Soldier situation where villains are not truly villains, and heroes are not true heroes.
After eating, you proceeded to repaint your nails, going for a baby blue. Once they dried, Bjorn started bothering, wanting to go for a walk. So you went into the bathroom, took a shower and changed for the day.
“Okay, okay, cutie, we can go now. You gotta find me a man in the park or a job at the UN, whichever is easier.” You joked, putting his collar on, excited to have some company on today’s walk.
You left the flat and started walking towards Greenwich Village, looking to see a different part of the city. It was a 30-minute walk from the apartment in Chelsea, and you would take the underground to Central Park later to meet with Sophie.
Once you made it to your desired destination, you started to walk down this beautiful wide street. Although a cutie, Bjorn was not the best-behaved dog. He kept on trying to chase pigeons and wanted to play with every dog he saw on the street. Given his insistence and strength, it had gotten increasingly difficult to hold him back. Your whole upper body had started to get sore as you held tightly onto the leash while he pulled.
You took a deep breath as you finally managed to calm him down enough to stop for a second and look around. Almost as if he could feel you finally relax and look away from him, he pulled with all his strength to your side, making you trip. You tried to keep him calm, but he pulled your shoulder, causing you to cry out in pain. He was uniquely strong for a dog, or you were just particularly breakable.
“Ouch, Bjorn! Stop it!” You pulled the leash again, holding it with your opposite hand, getting him to finally sit. You looked up, realising he was trying to jump on a man holding a sandwich between his hands.
“I am so sorry! He is a little too excited to be outside. Your sandwich must smell delicious,” you apologised profusely while trying to stop the pain in your shoulder to no avail.
“No problem. He is a big dog. Did you hurt your shoulder?” The man answered unimpressed, noticing how you were slouching your shoulder.
“Oh no, it is okay. He just pulled harshly. I am sure it is nothing.” You responded, looking down at Bjorn, that was now behaving properly, sitting by your side.
“It looks like it could be dislocated. That is pretty bad. I can call a doctor if you want?” He replied, taking a bite out of his sandwich and breaking off a piece for the hungry dog that had just eaten breakfast.
“Oh no, doctors are super expensive in the U.S. I am fine. I’ll just go home and put some ice on it."
"I am sure he will look at your shoulder for free. Wait, he is just around the corner. Follow me.” He started walking along the street. You did not know whether to follow him. Sophie had told you people may be dangerous in New York, but he seemed pretty normal. You prided yourself on having a good vibe detector, and he seemed nice, a straightforward guy. You started to walk behind him. Bjorn seemed to have understood he had hurt you and was walking at a better speed.
The man in the peculiar clothes stopped in front of 177A Bleecker Street and opened the door screaming, “Strange! We have a situation. Come here. We need your medical assistance.”
—-
Liv’s Note (please read)
I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter. Given the length of the work, I have created a separatetaglistfor it, so please join it to get notified when a new chapter is posted. I have tagged people who are on my general/marvel/Loki/Strange taglist for this chapter but please join the taglist if you want to be tagged again. Please read the PSA linked at the top of this chapter or here. Sending you all my love! Please reblog the story to support my writing ♥️
AN: WARNING THERE IS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THOR RAGNAROK IN THIS SO PLEASE DON’T READ AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET AND DON’T BLAME ME IF YOU DON’T READ THIS AND GET SPOILED COS I WARNED YA
It had been all but a month since you stared helplessly from the ships window watching your home be burnt to the ground. Nothing could have ever prepared you for that, seeing all you’ve ever known be wiped away in a matter of minutes. Yet as you watched your city turn to ash, a new sense of hope was given to your people. As your rightful heir took his place on a more or lesser versions of a throne, we knew that this wasn’t the end of Asgard.As the great Heimdall, who was also a great friend to you, once said “Asgard is not a place, it’s the people.”
So that’s how you ended up here, cruising the galaxy in a gigantic spaceship packed full with Asgardians. It wasn’t the greatest living arrangement but you couldn’t complain. It still beats the cave everyone stayed in during Hela’s rule. Even after everything that’s happened, all the death and destruction, you know that Thor is the greatest king your people have ever had. And unlike Oden, he didn’t need to kill and abuse his power to do it. Heck even prince Loki has changed for the better, his old self would never have come back to save your people. Something had changed within both brothers and it was definitely the good kind of change.
Thoughts of your old home plagued your mind as you sat lent against the wall, palms faced upwards as you attempted to wield your magic. Yes, technically you could be a witch of sorts but not even you had figured out the extent of your power or how you came to posses it. For now the most you can do is levitate small objects for a short period of time. You hated how you couldn’t do more to help your people during Ragnarok. The most you could do was help Heimdall gather the people to safety as not even your fighting skills were more than satisfactory.
A loud knock on your door caused you to lose focus, the red mist of your magic disappearing from your finger tips. With a sigh you stood up to answer it, hoping to the gods that it wasn’t someone coming to give you kitchen duty for the day. However when you opened the door you were surprised to see Valkyrie, your newest friend who’d you’d met during your first week on the ship.
“Took you long enough Y/N.” Your friend was leaning against the wall outside your door, drink in her hand and a sour expression on her face. "Wow aren’t you in the best of moods today.“
Her expression immediately softened at your words, sighing before taking another swig of her drink. "I’m sorry it’s just, I’ve been so overwhelmed by everything lately.”
Closing the door behind you, you sent her a sympathetic smile. "Wanna talk about it over a drink?“
"Gods you know me so well.”
“So tell me, what’s on your mind?” You asked, turning to face your friend whilst sipping your drink. Her mood quickly faltered as she thought, whatever was bothering her must really be getting to her. "Thor.“
That was definitely not the answer you were expecting to come out of her mouth. "Our king?” You leaned in closer now, quickly interested in the situation. You’d never personally met the guy but after meeting Val you sure heard a lot about him. Your friend only slumped onto the table in front of you, groaning into her arms in clear frustration.“He’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”
Your eyebrow quirked at this, you’d never seen Val so worked up about someone since, well never. “Oh really? In what way?”
“He won’t leave me alone! He always wants my input on every situation. He says these stupid things but for some reason it makes my heart beat faster and sometimes…”
“What?”
“Sometimes when I’m around him my cheeks, the go all red. It’s infuriating!”
A smirk appeared on your face. As grown up and tough as Val was, she was still so oblivious to her feelings. "Val, did it ever occur to you that you might like him?“ She only rolled her eyes at your words, not understanding the context behind them. "Well of course I like him, I don’t hate him.”
“No no no. As in more than just a friendly way.”
Her face instantly grew red at the accusation, anger evident in her voice. "Are you out of your mind? Of course i’m not in love with the king.“
"Who’s in love with me?”
Val’s eyes widened, her body going stiff at the sound of Thor’s voice coming from behind her. Slowly turning around to greet him she feigned her normal stony expression but her blushing cheeks gave her emotions away. "Uh no one of course. Oh Y/N I don’t think you and Thor have met before. Y/N this is Thor and Thor this is Y/N.“
You shook your head slightly at her actions, of course she’d find a way to change to subject. You offered the king a friendly smile, he definitely wasn’t any less attractive up close. "It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Ah so you’re the friend Valkyrie won’t shut up about.."
"Wow Val I’m flattered.”
“Oh shut up. So, what brings you here Thor?"
"I was going to ask if you wanted to have a drink with me, but I see you’ve already got company.” Disappoint was evident on his face, as much as he tried to hide it. You felt for the guy, you really did. Both Val and Thor clearly liked each other but your friend was also stubborn when it came to her feelings.
“Yes me and Y/N are busy so if you don’t mind-”
You stood up abruptly, Val’s eyes wide as you began to leave her alone with her crush. “Oh would you look at the time, I’ve actually got this thing I’ve gotta get to so…bye!"
"W-what?! Y/N!”
As you left the room you could still faintly hear the conversation between them. “So…may I join you?” The king flirted shamelessly, your friend gritting her teeth in anger. "I’m gonna kill that girl.“
You were making your way back to your room, when turning a corner you walked right into a hard chest. The sounds of books hitting the ground accompanied your fall onto the hard surface. That was definitely going to bruise in the morning. You began collecting the books the stranger had dropped, not yet looking up from the floor. "I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going-”
“Clearly.”
The voice definitely belonged to a man, one with evidently terrible manners. Rolling your eyes at the rude remark you finished gathering the books, raising up onto your feet before harshly shoving them into the strangers chest. "You don’t have to be so god damn rude about it.“
It wasn’t until those words left your mouth did you finally look at the man in front of you. Your eyes widening at the Prince, your state of shock rendering you speechless. Like his brother you’d never seen Loki up close before, but gods was he unlike any man you’d ever seen. It was as if you were stuck in a trance as you became mesmerised by his eyes, taking into account all the details on his face in pure wonder.
Loki, however, obviously grew impatient and frustrated by your stares as he harshly snapped you back into reality. "Are you just going to stand there all day and stare at me.”
In a way you were thankful for his words as it reminded you of why you were mad at this boy in the first place. Prince or not, he didn’t have the right to speak to you that way. “Are you always such an asshole to strangers or is it just your sour personality?”
He was clearly offended by your words as his fists clenched in rage, obviously not liking the words that were tumbling out of your mouth. "Excuse me! I am Loki, Prince of Asgard-“
"Well Asgard is gone. And that still doesn’t give you the right to be so rude!” As you stormed away in anger Loki noticed something in his state of shock. A red mist sparking from your fingertips as you walked away in fury.
