#Dance of the Little Swan II.i

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Dance of the Little Swan II.i

Pas de Trois

Prelude || Overture || Dance of the Harpy

Summary: The Jötnar were thought to be long-since-gone within the mortal realm. Amidst all of her fakery, Mommy Fortuna holds Loki, trapped in birth from and far from what he once considered home, as well as another little treasure: a swan maiden.

(Yes, this is a crossover, but the Last Unicorn is fairly minimal plot-wise and it’s largely a Loki fic)

Relationships: F/M (Loki/Original Female Character, Molly Grue/Schmendrick)

Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content)

WARNING: Mild dub-con

At some point in the middle of the night, Annie had crawled over and wormed her way under Ceana’s arm. The swan maiden had no recollection of it ever occurring. When she closed her eyes, Annie had been adjacent to her; when she opened them again, the little one’s strawberry blonde hair was half-burying her nose.

The next thing Ceana noticed was the smell of cooking meat and greens. She picked up her head, rubbing sleep from her eyes to find Loki crouched in front of the fire and watching food cook on some flat stones. He looked none-too-happy to be so close to the heat.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but the slightly-light sky foretold its rising. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said as she stretched. Ceana did her best to hide the thick sarcasm. Whether Loki noticed on not, he showed no reaction.

The fire lit the surrounding area. It wasn’t until she tried to sit up that she felt the ache in her side. She winced.

“You would not wake up,” Loki simply said. His voice was rough from lack of use.

Ceana picked up her armband, slipping it on and nudging Annie awake. “Little one,” she whispered, “we must leave soon.”

Annie barely roused. Ceana lightly shook her until she lifted her head. “Mama? Where are we?”

Ceana’s heart panged. She smoothed Annie’s thin hair into a less disheveled style. “I’m sorry, but I’m not your Mama, sweetie, but I’m gonna help you find her.”

Annie lazily nodded her head.

“What’s your name?” Ceana asked.

“Marget.”

“Marget?”

The little girl shook her head and curls whizzed around her like a halo. “Marget.”

Ceana raised her eyebrow.

“She means Margaret, you dull thing,” Loki said. His voice was sharp for so early in the morning.

“Margaret?”

The little girl nodded her head. She attempted enthusiasm but ended up almost falling forward in fatigue. Ceana smiled down at her.

“Eat. We leave as soon as you are done.”

Demanding, Ceana thought and took some of the food from the flat stone. Her diet had since returned to its natural state, and she ate some of both. Annie— Margaret, she corrected herself—only ate the meat. She didn’t like the way the celery tasted—“like grass.”

Once they were finished, Ceana found a nice branch to use as a walking stick. It was clear of bark and without splinters and worked perfectly to alleviate the pain of her new limp. She allowed Margaret to climb on her back; the girl had a nasty cut on the bottom of her foot that she was complaining about. Once they found a stream, she could wash it and her own wound.

Loki set the giant covering of bodies alight, and they left just as the sun peeked over the horizon.

The sun was high. They were in the trees, following closely enough to the trail that they could see it, but far enough away that others would not see them. Not far ahead, she could hear a river bubbling along.

Once they reached their temporary destination, Margaret drank from the river while Loki helped Ceana out to a protruding rock in the shallows, letting her sit down while he inspected her leg. She held the skirt of her dress to prevent it from getting wet.

As she watched him, she decided she did not like having such a terrifying creature—especially one who was still threatening to eat her—holding her leg and examining her wound as if he genuinely cared.

Loki cupped his hand and allowed water to run down the burning wound. Ceana winced but allowed him to work away the old blood and dirt. “It is not as bad as I had first thought,” he said.

When he poured more water over her shin, he smoothed his hand along her skin. Ceana felt the water turn icy cold and shuddered in both shock and relief. “What magic is that?”

He cleaned the rag. “Jötnar have the ability to manipulate ice. Although, I have more skills than simply snow.”

Ceana wondered why he had not used them to escape. Outside her own transformation magic, she did not know how seiðr worked. “Can you show me, Your Highness?”

“No.”

Ceana blinked. “Why not?”

He wrapped her leg and practically dropped it back into the river, water splattering both of them. “The business of a god is not to be known by mortals.”

Ceana wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew the Jötunn would see.

She drank as much as she pleased before standing. He didn’t offer her help, so she walked out of the river herself, nearly slipping and falling on a mossy rock. Fickle Jötunn, she wanted to say, but she kept it in her thoughts.

It took a few days, but they eventually ended up on the outskirts of a small village. Ceana knew they were lucky the wound on her leg did not infect, but Margaret’s foot was now red and swollen, oozing fluid constantly. It was clearly so painful that she could not walk, and Ceana was forced to support the little one on her back—the Jötunn outright refused.

So, she now carried the small child and Loki’s cloak, constantly tripping on the frayed bottom of her own wrapping as the weight of Margaret dragged the fabric down.

Her entire body ached, but she refused to ask for any sort of relief. The first time she had, Loki scoffed, called her weak, and offered to give her the supplies so he could walk freely.

Ceana grit her teeth and looked at him. He, in turn, met her gaze expectantly, raising his brow and nodding towards the village.

With the ache in her muscles and his irksome behavior grating on her nerves, Ceana found herself to be more shrewd than usual. She knew she would regret it later, but she wanted to see the indignant expression on the god’s face.  “Are you not going to lead the way, Your Highness?”

Loki simply sneered at her. “Must I remind you that I have not had a full meal recently?”

Margaret, who Ceana had thought was asleep, startled, and Ceana felt the girl wrap her tiny arms a little closer to her collar.

“Perhaps you should.” Ceana crouched before she could see his reaction, letting Margaret slid off her back and to the ground. She turned to face the little one. “Let me see your foot.”

Margaret lifted her foot as instructed, allowing Ceana to unwrap it. She ran her thumb along the dirty sole. Margaret whimpered, and Ceana winced in sympathy, but she had to keep watch of it.

After clearing away a few pebbles that had gotten caught in the swollen skin, she took a damp rag she’d recently cleaned and replaced the old one, tucking it away for later. She then pressed her hand to Margaret’s forehead, finding the girl far hotter than what the early spring sun would cause. “We need to take you to an apothecary as soon as possible.” She took her cloak, wrapping the girl up despite her heat.

Ceana had learned from both experience and her mother that although the little one felt hot to the touch, she shivered from cold, so it is best to keep her wrapped up in a blanket. “You’ll sweat out the sickness,” her mother would have said.

Ceana stood for a moment, stretching her entire body in hopes it would relieve the slight ache in her muscles. They’d been walking for a few days straight, and—

Her vision shook and pain spiked through the back of her head.

It took her a moment to recollect herself, and, after a few moments of the entire world seeming to shake, it registered that she was against the bark of a tree. Loki was so close she could hardly see his nose.

He bared his teeth, grey and sharp, and drew closer to her.

In the days Ceana had known him, he walked and spoke like a man rather than a beast, but now… now his eyes held a dark, feral look in them, and she turned her head away. His surprisingly cold breath caressed her cheek as he drew his lips to her ear.

Fear sped through her and Ceana tried to kick him, but he pinned her body to the tree with his own. When she tried to squirm and push him away, one of his hands, just as cold as his breath, found her throat and squeezed hard enough to make her breathing ragged, the other grasping her wrists and caging her hands against his chest. Once her arms were adequately pinned, he reached for her hair and pulled her so he could cradle the back of her head. He shifted, biting her earlobe and sending—oddly enough—chills down her spine, although not due to cold. When he pulled with his teeth, Ceana flinched, terrified he was going to attempt to rip her entire ear off; she had no doubt he could if he so pleased.

Just as the tugging began to hurt enough to warrant a strangled cry, the Jötunn withdrew, and Ceana thought that perhaps his attack was over. She trembled in an odd mixture of fear and relief, tensing again when he seemed to suckle the lobe.

His knee made its way uncomfortably between her legs, shoving her upwards until he managed to nestle his hips against hers. Her back scraped against the tree and the bark rubbed her skin raw.

Ceana could feel her heart thumping in her chest. It was horribly difficult to ignore the pressure he was creating between her legs.

She’d never even considered the thought of someone’s touch—whether it be hers or another’s—venturing between her legs, especially before she’d been wed; her own hand had never been there except when cleaning, and she hadn’t even thought to be thankful that no man had ever tried to force himself upon her. Until now, Ceana thought.

She tried to move to alleviate some of the pain, and felt the Jötunn—the beast, the… the monster—smile against her skin. “Concubine,” he muttered and removed his hold on her neck to explore elsewhere. His mouth moved lower to lightly bite her skin, his tongue lapping along the vein there.

Ceana squirmed. Although she now had the freedom to scream, she found the chill he’d left on her neck continued biting. Her throat was painful and dry, and she could only manage a graveled croak.

Just as his wandering touch was about to reach below her makeshift dress, he jolted slightly, his breath stuttering.

He retreated.

Ceana had shut her eyes at some point during the assault, but she opened them now, following the beast’s gaze down to see an angry little red-head. Her face was scrunched up in hostility, her hands in little fists.

He glared down at Margaret, bearing his teeth, but her gaze did not waver. Her fist, in fact, rose, and she hit his leg for what was presumably the second time. “Let her go!”

He smirked, confusing Ceana beyond belief. In one smooth movement, he stepped away and released her, causing her to fall and land hard at the roots of the tree. “I suppose I do still need you pure in order to find that Unicorn, don’t I? I certainly won’t be able to see her on my own.”

Ceana slumped over, still shaking and now on the verge of tears. She watched as Margaret ran at the beast, and began to claw and hit him despite her own injury, attempting to maul every vestige of skin she could reach. He merely rolled his eyes and placed his palm against her forehead, shoving her backward. Ceana felt the blast of cold he released upon the child from where she lay, the poor thing tumbling backward and falling; Margaret remained on the ground and began to cry.

The beast pulled her swan feather from behind his ear, walking over to Ceana and dangling it in her face. Ceana lifted her shaking hand, attempting to grasp at it. He easily snatched it from her fingers, snickering as he tucked it away. “Still, I own you, swan, and still, you must obey me, but I’ll give you a choice.” He stood to his full height, towering over her. “You may stay there, and I kill that wretched thing or quiet it and I will, for now, graciously allow it to live.”

She was a shaking disaster but managed to crawl her way over to Margaret, pulling the little girl into her lap and attempting to soothe her despite her utter lack of voice.

Eventually, Margaret calmed, and Ceana stood and turned to find him gone. She swallowed, doing her best to ignore the pull in her chest that told her to go into the woods. She kissed the little girl’s forehead and started to walk towards the tiny village, the sun setting behind her.

Ceana knew they were lucky to find a sympathetic woman who happened to have a bed to spare. Her son had only recently left to make his own homestead, and the bedding still smelled of him.

Teàrlach, his mother called him, and her name was Seonag.

Seonag lived without a husband—an illness swept through their village early on in their marriage. The woman resolved then to learn the ways of herbalism and became the village’s healer.

Ceana brought Margaret over to the bed, helping Seonag rest her down so she could be properly inspected. The middle-aged woman already had water boiled and a medicinal tea for her throat was steeping.

Seonag looked at Margaret's foot. “That’s a mighty infection, there.” She leaned close to Ceana so Margaret couldn’t hear her next words. “You’re lucky the girl’s still alive.”

Ceana nodded, worry creeping up into her chest. She hadn’t known how bad it was.

Seonag smiled. “I’ll do everything I can to help her.” After a bit of shuffling around her cottage, she found what she was looking for and started to make a poultice, instructing Ceana to watch.

It was fairly simple—marigold and lavender oil. The lavender oil was tedious to make, so Seonag gave Ceana a small jar wrapped in dark fabric. The poultice was crushed in a bowl and heated over a fire, then placed in the cloth used to wrap Margaret’s foot. “Heat it if possible and change it at least twice a day until the infection lessens,” she said. “After that, apply it only once. I’d advise you two stay here until it improves a bit.” She shuffled back over to the fire, sniffing the tea to check it. With a nod, she took out the little sack of herbs, squeezed it, and handed the mug to Ceana. “It doesn’t taste very good, but make sure you drink up and gargle it every few swigs.”

Ceana nodded. She did as instructed, cringing at the bitter taste.

Seonag lightly shoved her towards a chair by the fire. “Sit! Sit! Poor thing, do you have shoes for you and your little one?”

Ceana shook her head, taking another gargled gulp. The heat of the fire added with her tea left her sweltering, but she tried to ignore it. Seonag knew what she was doing. Besides, the heat was helping with her throat.

“Let me take a proper look at ye, now.” Seonag pulled a stool over to sit in front of her. “Throat, you said?”

Ceana nodded, lowering her mug. She ignored the tugging in her chest.

Seonag turned a bit, lightly gesturing for Ceana to follow until the glow of the fire fully lit her face. “Open wide!” Upon inspection, she nodded. “A bit irritated, but nothing too bad.”

Seonag nodded. “I’m going to feel your throat, just as a precaution. Make sure nothing’s the way it shouldn’t be.” She reached out without further ado, resting her fingers on Ceana’s neck for barely a second. “By Scathach!” she exclaimed, so loudly that Margaret jumped from sleep.

Ceana’s eyes were wide, but she set her tea down and got up, sitting down beside Margaret and soothing the poor girl. She felt her heartbeat to find it racing, and shushed Margaret and calming her. She looked up at Seonag while she rocked the little redhead.

Seonag was checking her own throat and cheeks now. She grabbed the tea walked up to Ceana, touching her own cheeks and the back of her neck. “Miss, my hands are in no way cold, but your throat…”

Ceana raised her eyebrows in reply, taking the tea and drinking more.

“It’s so cold it burns!”

The slight tugging at her body began to overwhelm her, begging her to leave the cottage and venture into the night. She did not doubt that it would lead her right to the Jötunn’s awaiting arms.

“If you’ll excuse me, I… I need some fresh air.” Ceana knew the excuse was lame at best, but she felt her body pulling her beyond her control. “I’ll be back before morning.”

She hurried out, not even accepting Seonag’s offering of a pair of shoes.

#fanfic #fanfiction #loki #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #marvel #norse mythology #Dance of the Little Swan #Dance of the Little Swan II.i #Pas de Trois

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Lore of Dance of the Little Swan

I.Dance of the Little Swan takes place in the time of pagan gods, as you might have guessed, and pretty much all of the lore used is what was spread before the Christianization of Europe, except, y’know, real. I use some specific tales and creatures, so here’s a little lore if you find interest:

*quick note: I didn’t pick mythos from any specific time, so there’s stuff from black-plague-era but also most characters still polytheistic.

Norse Lore

Swan Maidens

Specifically the whooper swan, they migrate from northern to southern Eurasia. In my interpretation, swan maidens have two options:

Take on a swan mate 

guaranteed mate for life (as whooper swans do)

safety from humans and more offspring at a time

male cygnet are swans, and female cygnet are swan maidens

Take on a human mate:

a partner with more intelligence and actual sentience

more interactions with humans and their culture, as some prefer

male children are normal humans, and females are swan maidens

Human-born and swan-born maidens mature at the same rate as their regular swan counterparts. By the time they reach anywhere from 120-150 days old, they are able to fly and transform from one form to the other. After they reach their sexual maturity at age 5 (they appear to be 15 years of age as a human) they slow to the same growth rate as a human, allowing them to live up to what appears to be 80 years in human-form, although they’ll only live to an average of 65.

Both types of maidens are born with a white feather behind their ear (regardless of the juvenile swan’s plumage color), which falls off once they turn for the first time. It holds the power of their transformation seiðr. Most maidens weave it into a bracelet or garment that they can wear, and those that want a human husband can leave it out to be found. A prophecy from long-since-forgotten states that as long as a maiden willingly places out her feather to be found, a man fit to be her husband will find it.

Ceana is a swan-born maiden.

Jötnar

The first creatures produced by Ymir, they survived their father’s world-creating dismemberment by sailing on his blood. Predating both the Aesir and Vanir gods, they have the ability to manipulate ice and snow by pulling from the molecules in the air.

Their culture used to thrive within its own realm, but Laufey tried to enslave Earth. He was defeated and spared by the Allfather, and Odin took the Casket of Ancient Winters, placing it within Asgard’s vaults.

Jötunheim was weak, but Laufey collected a small army and attempted to take back the Casket. He failed due to Heimdall alerting the Asgardians, and the frost giants were ambushed before they even left their realm. Laufey was killed and Loki was taken by Odin.

Jötunheim, ruled by Fárbauti and her two illegitimate sons, Býleistr and Helblindi, has been weakened significantly. Odin opened negotiations with Jötunheim, and as of the events of Dance of the Little Swan, they still hold an uneasy alliance.

Fárbauti believed Loki to be dead until Odin brought him along for a trade meeting. She caught her son by the arm, and his skin reacted to the debilitating cold by turning blue, rather than being frostbitten, as is standard.

Jörmungandr

Also known as the Midgard Serpent, he is the offspring of Loki and Angrboða.

Scottish Myths

Wee Annie

A young girl killed by the black plague, she was quarantined in the depth of Mary King’s Close and left to die. She cries for her doll.

The Loch Ness Monster

Blue-green in color, with black bumps along her back, she lurks within the depth of Loch Ness.

Kelpies

A shapeshifting water horse that haunts Scottish rivers, it has three ways of hunting:

Takes the form of a man and leaps at passers-by.

Appears at the water’s edge appearing gentle, offering victims a ride before plunging them into the deep.

Emits a cry that sounds like a drowning man or women to attract its prey.

Selkies

Seal spirits who could take human form on land by shedding their skin, they’re very similar to Swan Maidens, although native to the Scots-land.

Sídhe

Members of the fae. They live underground in fairy mounds, which they protect fiercely.

Baobhan Sith

She is a very dangerous female vampire who haunts the highland regions, appearing as a beautiful woman who seduces her victims before attacking them and draining their blood. She shares certain characteristics in common with succubi, banshees, and fairies.

Cait Sith

Resembling a large black cat with a white spot on its chest, its as large as a dog. Some common folklore suggested that the Cat Sìth is not a fairy, but a witch that can transform into a cat.

Cù Sìth

Size of a young bull with the appearance of a dog with shaggy, dark green fur and a long tail. Its paws are the width of a man's hand. It’s a harbinger of death and appears to take the soul of a person to the afterlife.

Unicorn

A white horse-like or goat-like animal with a single large, pointed, spiraling horn projecting from its forehead and cloven hooves (sometimes a goat's beard). She can only be seen by pure-of-heart virgins, is immortal, and has healing powers. They’ve been hunted for their horns, which can be used to heal any ailment.

Slaugh

A group of very dangerous spirits from the highlands, known as the unforgiven dead.

As fallen angels, they have no souls, and travel in what appears to be a murder of crows so large it blots out the stars. Always moving towards the west, they search for dying mortals’ souls. The weak are easiest to take and feast upon, but young, healthy souls are known to be a better meal. The souls of children are severely hated for reasons unknown.

This will be added to as more creatures/myths are mentioned.

Link to each chapter in case you wish to read! I.i: Prelude || I.ii: Overture || I.iii: Dance of the Harpy || II.i: Pas de Trois

#fanfic #fanfiction #loki #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #marvel #norse mythology #scottish mythology #european mythology #Dance of the Little Swan #mythology