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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

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Dawn(4)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings:hurt, anxiety, missing(?)

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I’ll be leaving this job when things settle down. I cannot work for a company that does not have humanity or sympathy for the people that keep it going. I would rather get a decent pay and be treated with the respect I deserve for the job I do. This pandemic really brought a whole different side to how much they care for you.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The rough kisses of the wind under the light of the moon bring with it the song of nocturnal birds ready to take the night. Every little ecosystem of the witching hour is alive as the light brings forth a new day and a new adventure, bursting out into songs of the twilight; or their supper. Everything except for the God on the horse that zooms past them, interrupting their daily chores to look at him in curiosity for five seconds before going back to whatever it is they were doing.

For Loki, it is less of an adventure and more of a race against time. He knows firsthand the sensitive areas of the Asgardian mountains, especially the ones lying close to Vanaheim and Alfheim that are hiding the remnants of old enemies of the throne. Once the war was over, it was a given that the invaders from other galaxies who had set their claws in the weakest kingdoms would have to face the Asgardian forces to draw them away, and so they had fled in the darkness of the many nights to prevent being captured and exiled to their planets or worse, being left on a barren moon to fend for themselves. And it would not be any barren moon but one which the Silvertongue would choose specifically for their suffering.

One of the reasons Loki had travelled to the borders just a day after his wedding was to take care of the still weak defences of the kingdom. Several aliens who had surrendered because of their children and to prevent violence were assured a safe refuge and means to make an honest living by both the Princes. But the once who had fled with the motive to not negotiate for a mere living had full intentions of coming back with resources. Loki made sure that guards were stationed near the villages by the edge of the cities so as to prevent the fiends from pillaging the hard work of the innocent while at the same time, releasing the wild animals under the care of the crown- more precisely, his command- to make sure they kept the threat in check.

It had been hard for Loki to get up in the morning with you by his side, sleeping without a care in the world. He’d watched you snore, your lips parted and your sleep reasonably heavy after the week you had had, and questioned himself to have found you more mesmerising than any time before. He knew Thor could have handled the situation without him, but seeing you sleep next to him with your guard down brought an unknown sensation from somewhere deep inside him, unfurling like a whirlpool in the midst of an ocean. The sensation, the instinct to protect you- to watch you like this more often. After all, how many people in his life had he witnessed to trust him enough to tell him his brother was afraid of spiders.

And now as he is flying in the wind through the forest trail to reach you, Loki can only think about your safety. Well, that and the endless rant he would have to hear from Tony if something happens to you and he finds out about it.

If his memory of the lessons of the kingdom’s Geography serves him right, the Nightweed can only be found by the rivulets flowing from Vanaheim’s direction. That would mean the group would have to travel south-west to reach it a few hours before the crack of the dawn. And the trail he follows suggests his observation be correct.

Just a half an hour journey later he finds a soft glow of lanterns up ahead on the trail, his pounding heart feeling an unexplainable rush that makes his grip on the reins tighter as he directs his horse to reach it with full speed.

What he does not expect to see is Sybll being the only one sitting on the ground next to a few horses while a guard keeps a watch for anything out of the ordinary. The lines of worry on her face are visible in the glow of the white lanterns but the fear that creeps into her eyes when she sees Loki emerge from the darkness is no match for them.

“Your highness,” she breaks while trying to get up from the ground and bow her head in the presence of her Prince.

“Where is she?” is all he asks.

The answer does not come abruptly. Instead, Sybll’s eyes well up and her fingers torment the flesh of her arms till she has grounded herself to finally speak.

“She’s missing. Someone took her,” she winces.

The visit to the forest feels like a dream. The smell of the flowers of the night, the cool breeze caressing you with the frostiness it brought you from the nearest waterfalls and rivulets, the happy songs not holding much meaning for you, the laughs and cheers. Everything seems to be blurring into a sweet memory.

Till you remember the urgent need to pee that led to you losing consciousness. And with that one thought gathering amplitude inside your head, your eyes open wide while your head throbs, looking in every direction for Sif or Sybll or anyone else who is familiar. Instead, you lock eyes with a gross creature sitting at the entrance- of what seems like a tent- looking at you with utter disgust in his eyes and a wicked smile on his...well, whatever this orc has for lips.

That creature runs out of the tent before you can ask him anything and you take that time to look around for any clue as to where you are. One thing that does make sense is the seal on the grain sacks and chests kept in one corner which does not belong to any royal families you were introduced to on your wedding day.

Wait, my wedding day was yesterday.

Just the thought of that fact gives you a headache.

Getting up from this quilt that you have been laid over, you feel the frost of the night over your exposed shoulders, really missing the cloak you'd kept on your horse when you dismounted it.

Steps sound outside the tent and you are obligated to turn towards the opening to see who is responsible for getting you unconscious and dragging you away from another Asgardian tradition.

Well, the master, or chief, looks nothing like the one he had stationed to guard you.

This one looks more like an elf with a backbone straighter than any protestant you would witness in a 'go away immigrants' rally. His golden hair falls till his hips, not a single strand out of its place; even when he walks towards you. For a second you really think he has walked in here by mistake till his yellow eyes start to observe you from head to toe.

Creepy elf.

"Hm," he breathes out, his head held so high he has to look down at you even though he is barely two inches taller than you are, "I thought the prince of Asgard would do better than...this."

"Hm," you mock back, not acknowledging that petty insult with an answer. But you really cannot help it. "I'm sure if you had asked nicely he would have considered your hand in the marriage too..."

"Torbarik," he introduces himself, never breaking that stoic ego of his, "and I would rather eat dirt than marry that bastard," the elf creature purrs all the while unconsciously avoiding anything that would get his white robe with sparkly embellishments dirty.

"So...you would marry him," you state, narrowing your eyes in introspection at that guy who is clearly irritated now.

He takes a step towards you, enough to bend a little when he wants to stare you directly in the eye. "Your father in the name of the law promised us a place in the kingdoms before your husband-" he practically hisses the word in your face- "and his high and mighty brother took over the territories to make it their little playground and drive my people out."

As much as you want to pay attention to his words there is something else that bothers you on another level.

"I'm sorry," you finally blurt out, "I cannot concentrate on what you're saying with those two little hairs standing up on your head. Right there. Yeah. Near the forehead."

Torbarik moves his head back, like a little jolt he feels at the thought of someone pointing at his imperfections.

"Look, I don't know what Odin promised you," you shrug, "and whatnot. But I do know that whatever Loki and Thor and doing is probably for the best of all people involved."

“What is best for their interest,” Torbarik interrupts you, walking around the tent, his eyes looking around, his marble-like face expressionless, “that is how the royal family has always been. I claimed the lands of Alfheim with power-” he pauses in front of a small mirror hanging by the pole in the centre of the tent and checks himself and those loose hair strands you mentioned- “and no one can take that away from me.”

You have to pause and take a breath. Initially for clearing your head, mostly for keeping you from throwing words at him he might not recover from.

“And where do I come into this?” you finally ask. “I do not have a political standing in the Asgardian court if that is what you are going for.”

Torbarik feels a shift in lips, a slight smirk forming on them as he turns to face you with an eerie look in his eyes. “Oh, but you are the most vital piece of the court, your grace.”

You know he means to mock you when he addresses you that way, and that look of madness in his eyes is not helping. “You, the latest addition to the royal court, a...low blood but married into the royals, nonetheless, are the key to it all. You are what I will bargain for power in these lands, my dear.”

So, he is insane, your inner voice shouts in a mad fit of hysterical laughter while you scoff at him. “And what makes you think anyone will negotiate with you? What makes you think Odin will negotiate for my life? Like you said, I’m just a human.”

For the first time that night, you watch Torbarik smile the broadest smile, revealing those unresting sharp white teeth. What is worse is his steps towards you, not halting till he has you pinned into the tent’s wall with his body, not even giving you much space to breathe.

“Oh, but not just any human,” he sings, his dirty-nailed fingers running lazily over your jaw, “you are the human who could bring havoc to Asgard with one simple scratch. Or maybe a broken bone. Or worse....your death.”

The nail from his index finger goes down the jaw, over your neck, deeper than before, definitely scratching something. “Imagine the destruction,” he whispers into your ear, sending uneasiness crawling down your skin, “when your family on earth finds out about something happening to you. The war they are going to wage. Bringing Hel on this land Odin is so proud of. And all-” his fingers wrap you by the throat, not yet turning it into a grip- “because Odin or his sons could not protect you.”

Even in the chill sweeping from outside on your feet, your back feels sweat trickle down while your heart tries its best to maintain a survivable pace.

“Loki would see this coming a mile away. Do you really think you stand a chance in front of hi-”

The grip tightens around your throat. You can feel the nails digging into your skin. “Oh, I want him to see this coming. I want him to know there will be blood if he does not agree with my terms. Even if your life means nothing to him, he will pay the price for it.”

It is not as much the words but the thoughts they conceive in your mind. Restless, unnerving thoughts. Thoughts of what weight do you exactly carry for Loki. Do you even carry some significance for him? Or are you just another peace treaty that was done and dusted?

Your heart feels a pain rush into it as quickly as you try to hide it on the outside.

“My husband does not negotiate with a terrorist. And you are a fool if you think he will not find a way through this web you think you are spinning for him.”

Torbarik breaks into laughter that chills your veins. Your skin feels something sticky where his nails are digging into your skin. “I would like to see him try.”

“...and by the time I came back to where I had left here, she was gone.”

The defeated sigh that leaves Sif’s lungs hurts her more than anyone for not being able to do the one thing she was meant to be doing.

“It’s not your fault, Sif,” Loki is quick to point out, knowing that look in her eyes well enough to know where her thoughts are spiralling right now. “Whoever took her must have been following you for some time to know when to strike. Are all the handmaidens accounted for?”

Sif nods, looking over his shoulder to watch them stand huddled together by the horses.

“Okay, here is what we will do-”

“Loki,” Sif interrupts the God before he can put a plan in action, “I can find her. Let me find her.”

Loki blinks. “Of course you will. You are the best asset we have right now. Baldur can take the handmaidens back to the palace. We have a lot of ground to cover so-”

“Pardon us, your highness,” Sybll’s voice stops Loki to make both the warriors turn around and face her form that is barely keeping it together underneath the tightly held cloak, “but we would like to be a part of the search too. We cannot go back to the palace when the Princess might be in danger right now. Please, we have been taught how to defend ourselves by the Queen. Let us be of some help as well.”

Loki has to pause and look at the eager faces standing their ground to do as much as possible. He turns to Sif for an opinion and she silently agrees with the lot.

A sigh escapes his nostrils in the form of visible air in this night getting colder by the minute.

“Fine,” he finally agrees, allowing the handmaidens to breathe easy, “but not without security.”

Loki gets down on one knee to touch the soil with his palm, reciting an ancient spell that reverberates through the land of the forest- its epicentre where Loki stands- with visible green and golden waves rolling right on the dust. Just as the recitation stops and his hand leaves the soil, everything goes silent; not even the owls hoot nor does a leaf.

And then Sif sees them. At the top of the nearest hill. Golden orbs- too many- in pairs, looking down at them, as if floating in their direction. The fear of the unknown takes root in a corner of her heart right before the moonlight shines on them.

Sif feels a touch on her shoulder and turns her head just enough to witness Loki’s hand shifting her and every other lady’s armour in something as black and as the night.

“Search for my wife,” Loki announces with a subtle hint of something dark without ever raising his voice- changing into a battle-ready black armour- and summoning his sword, “and they will take care of the rest.”

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what-even-is-thiss · 7 years

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The Four Seasons, The Beginning.

Hey. What’s up? How’s your day? My day is fine, I guess. I wrote a story I thought I did terribly with and it got over 100 notes in less than 12 hours. So, since everybody seemed to like that first one, which you should probably read before reading this one, so here it is, I decided to write an origins story. Now, keep in mind that Norse mythology is full of weird and questionable birth and creation stories, so if this seems weird know that it was on purpose. Also, a little bit of education about the Norse creation myth in here. I love teaching people about myths oooooh. *repressed giggle of delight*

Anyways, I hope its just the right amount of weird.

Tip Jar

Warnings: This is supposed to be a Norse mythology birth/creation story, so there’s death, blood, wolves, some gross things, and some moments that just make you go, “Huh?” 2,391 words

Abstract: How the four seasons came to be. A continuation of the Sanders Sides Norse mythology/seasons au, and part of the actual Norse creation myth as told by me, but the story is bent a bit.

“You can read the little book if you promise not to tell any of the gods. We’ve managed to keep this from them for thousands of years and it is still hilarious. They have no idea who we are,”

“I still say we have no reason to...”

“Shut up Winter. Nobody asked you,”

“Also, it’s super embarrassing. We can’t tell them,”

“And the way we were born is more embarrassing than being licked into existence by a cow? Seriously Autumn, I still don’t understand you,”

“Whatever, Summer. When Spring gets back for the night I’m totally setting him on you, and go ahead and read it, human. I didn’t go through all the trouble to track down a mortal competent enough to write it for nothing,”

“They have a name, Autumn!”

“Oh, go to Hel and ask the dead if I give a damn. Even they know that I don’t,”

In the beginning, there was Muspelheim, the primordial fire, and Niflheim, the first ice. Between them was Ginnungagap, the absolute nothingness.

Over countless years, the ice and fire came to meet in the nothingness and there came into existence a giant named Ymir.

Odin, Vili, and Ve were sons of one of the first gods, who was descended from the first god, and the first god was licked out of the ice of Niflheim by a primordial cow, and was called Buri.

Buri’s grandsons Odin, Vili, and Ve, killed the giant Ymir in a battle that lasted for days. Once he was dead, they set to work making a world from his remains.

The giant’s body became the Earth, and his blood poured out and became the oceans, lakes, and rivers. The gods formed mountains from his bones, and rocks and pebbles from his teeth. His skull was lifted above the earth and became the sky.

During this time, the world tree Yggdrasil continued to grow to connect all things. It placed one of it’s roots in the newly formed Earth that the gods were creating. The tree knew all things, and it knows that where there is a beginning there is an end, and where there is an end there is a beginning, and so it dropped a piece of itself into the newly formed world.

The cutting of the tree fell down, down a mountain and was taken away by a torrent of blood as the newly dead giant was still settling, and his blood was still flowing out in torrents.

The cutting took hold of the barren ground and took root in defiance against the river. It soaked in the water at a frightening speed and grew so quickly that it made cracking noises as it grew.

It grew into a hundred foot tall ash tree with four parts to it. One quarter of the top was barren without leaves, another was covered in baby leaves, green and small. Another part of the tree was covered in full, dark green leaves, and the one next to it was yellow and brown.

Soon, the moon Mani was chased into the sky by the wolf Hati and fled for his life across the night sky. As soon as he went over the horizon, his sister Sol, the sun, was chased into the sky by the wolf Skoll.

As soon as her light fell upon the barren landscape, the tree lit up, mimicking her light. A pair of hands punched through the bark of the tree and clawed and pulled and pounded with such urgency and force that within a minute of appearing, a man fell out of the tree, fully formed.

As he gasped and breathed in his first air and wiped the sap from his eyes, the hole closed behind him. He looked down to see that he was clothed, and was confused by this. The newly born god then looked to the sky, which still dripping slowly with blood, and the sun lighting it up, and he knew what he was.

He picked himself up and took a few shaky steps, and then he walked and then ran, and in his wake sprung up fully formed bushes, flowers, and grass. He ran across the land and touched the dead trees formed from the giant Ymir’s hair, and they immediately sprung into full green leaves.

The young god took hold of the wind like it was the string of a kite and followed it across the land. He fell and tumbled and ran, and his hearty deep laugh echoed across the land, heating the air and bringing warm rain.

When Odin and his kinsmen returned to check on the world they had created, they were astonished. They had expected it to take centuries for life to begin, but there were live trees, and crops, and plants and animals of every type covering the landscape, and it stayed like this for several years.

Every night, Summer returned to the ash tree. He grew tired and lonely, but saw the gods as beneath him. They only ever thought of themselves. He forgot in his years of waiting why he had gone to the ash tree in the first place.

One day as he returned, the moon was straight overhead when he heard a crack. Summer jumped and looked back at the tree he spent every night sleeping against. There was a crack appearing below the yellow section of the tree.

Two hands wedged their way through the crack from the inside and pulled. With a mighty jerk the tree was torn open, and out fell an exhausted man dressed in brown and black.

Summer ran to him and lifted the stranger’s head as the hole in the tree closed behind him.

“Why do you look like me? Who are you?” he demanded.

“I was just born and already you are interrogating me,” the new god said, already tired. “You know who I am. The tree told you so,”

Summer remembered and groaned. “No. I do not want to stop this! You will have to catch me!”

Summer ran off into the night, and despite how new and confused he was, Fall knew his purpose and chased his brother off into the darkness.

Just as the dawn began to break, Autumn caught up with summer and tackled him. He got the sticky tree sap stuck all over the other god as they wrestled on the ground. Despite how angry Summer was, he couldn’t help laughing. Fighting with him was fun, and they were now covered in grass and dirt, but neither of them particularly cared.

Then suddenly Autumn pulled his older brother behind a bush and said to be quiet. Summer peeked through the bush and saw several Aesir gods, Odin among them, gathered around a tree.

“What are those?” Fall asked, nervous. “You are more than a day old. What are they?”

“They are the Aesir gods of Asgard,” Summer whispered. “They don’t have to see us unless we want them to, do not worry. But what are they doing?”

The gods were carving at two old tree logs that had washed up on the ocean shore. They were becoming more and more person shaped.

“They’re making people out of trees,” Autumn noted.

“We came out of a tree,” Summer said.

“Yes, I know that. You are really obvious. Are we sure I am the one that was born last night?”

Summer rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop your talking and just go do your job. You caught me fair and square,”

Autumn didn’t have to be told twice. He took a slow careful walk along the earth, slowly starting the trees on their way to resting. With his touch, grass began dying. Animals began scurrying to store food for a later day.

Summer ran the winds like a current, letting himself be swept along with them like a moving tide. Autumn walked in the wind, taking it slowly and painting cold into it like an artist with a brush.

In time, the world was covered in red and yellow and brown. There was a cold nip in the air, and it stayed like that. For years, the world felt like it was on the edge of something. Something that wouldn’t come.

Summer soon realized he couldn’t stand the cold. He began building a long hall, and during the nights when he slept, his brother continued to work on the house. The younger one seemed to never sleep, or if he did it was short and fitful, like his dreams were laced with nightmares. So, he worked.

One night they were sitting by the tree. Fall was cleaning a skin and his brother was sharpening a knife.

“When do you suppose the others will come through?” Summer asked.

Just them, they heard a crinkling. Then a pop. Then a flick, and Autumn got hit in the face with a piece of tree bark. When they both looked over, they noticed that for a while someone had been systematically picking off small bits of bark and throwing them away. They stared dumbstruck for a minute until the hole was big enough for the person inside to neatly step through.

The new season straightened out his sap covered clothes and took in a deep breath. “Oh, that is better. It was difficult to breathe in there. So this is the world. Fascinating,”

“I can’t stand you already,” Fall said.

“I realize I just came out, but I do believe from what I know that your statement could be considered rude,”

“Just do your job. I don’t care,” Autumn said in a huff.

“Very well. Will you help me?”

Fall stood up and started walking away. Winter followed him, asking about how he was supposed to clean all of the sap of of himself. Summer sighed and continued sharpening his knife. He was going to get so bored over the next few months. He found himself vaguely wondering what was going to happen to the humans.

The humans were just fine, it turned out. As Autumn caused all of the leaves to finish falling and went home, and Winter tried his hand at making snowflakes, they adapted and learned to stay warm.

Winter grew fond of the humans as he went through the world, sometimes quickly and sometimes slow. He threw his creations to the winds and watched them swirl and cover the ground with white. The humans seemed so smart, and they appreciated the beauty of the snow while also hating it. It was a beautiful paradox and he loved it.

Every night Winter came back to their home and gave his apologies to his brothers, because he didn’t have the power to stop this. None of them were ever alone for too long anymore, but they had no way to make the world ready for Summer.

Summer had originally thought that he could just make the world warm again, but that didn’t happen. The first time he had come out of the tree he had simply willed the warmth and life to come, but now that didn’t work. He had been without the warmth of the sun for so long. Fall went outside sometimes and enjoyed the cold and admired Winter’s handiwork (though he’d never admit he liked it) but Summer just couldn’t. He fell into a deep sadness that was difficult to hide from the others.

After a couple years of this, Winter was preparing to leave at dawn and Fall was seeing him off. Summer came out to watch the sun rise in a dim hope it would be warm. Then, they heard a crack.

They all looked at their tree. Their huge ash tree that they had all come out of. It was cracking. There was light coming out of the cracks.

In a burst of light, the tree fell apart. Splinters, branches, and bits of bark flew everywhere. They all covered their heads as everything fell around them in a shower of ash tree.

When they looked up, there was a face nearly identical to their own, smiling with the sweet dawn bursting up behind him.

He was tired and new and confused, and he stumbled forward into Winter’s arms and leaned there, getting sap all over his older brother.

“Hi,” he mumbled through his tiredness, “sorry I’m late,”

Summer laughed for the first time since he had run from Fall almost nine years before and pulled the new season into his arms with a dramatic and crushing hug.

Winter smiled despite himself as he wiped the tree sap off of his neck and even the edge of Autumn’s mouth twitched upward a little. Spring was here. They were all here. They were all home.

Once Spring had woken up and washed off, he got to work right away. He ran through the world like an excited child, making flowers pop out of the snow and calling all of the animals to wake up.

He loved the humans and thought they were adorable. He often invisibly watched their children playing and laughed right along with him.

He warmed the breeze and brought rain and flowers wherever he stepped. The grass came back to life in a lively way, and the trees grew flowers and tiny green buds that quickly grew into leaves.

And one morning, to his delight, Summer was woken up by the youngest of them who eagerly pulled him outside. Soon the summer sun beat down on the earth and warm breezes cut through the nights.

And every year it has followed this way, with the seasons switching off the same way they always did.

“Hello! I’m back! Oh, is there a mortal here? How exciting!”

“Oh, he’s baaack. Hey Spring! Summer wants to ask you about your flowers!”

“Autumn , no. I didn’t think you’d actually...”

“Oh, he does? Come on!”

“I’m gonna go watch this. It should be fun,”

“So, Winter? You all came out of a tree?”

“Yes we did. But then again, so did humans,”

“And you don’t tell the gods any of this because watching them frustrated is fun for you?”

“Well, that is the reason the others give. Fall claims he is embarrassed, but I don’t believe that is the real reason,”

“Then what’s the real reason?”

“Nobody knows. He never tells us anything. It’s quite annoying,”

#I'm a bit happier with this one #writing it made me happy #roman wrote a thing #norse mythology au #seasons au #sanders sides seasons au #sanders sides #logic sanders #logan sanders #prince sanders #roman sanders #anxiety sanders #morality sanders #patton sanders #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #thomas sanders

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