#missives from midgard

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

happy birthdayyyyyy and also happy Hanukkah!!

Thank you very much for the birthday wishes, darling Bee, and Chag Sameach!

#loki of asgard #missives from midgard #default #enbeemagical

[luxmaeastra]

He'd held his tongue and probably this empire for as long as he could. He couldn't imagine what Genya was telling him and Vasiya. It couldn't true. Anastasiya had been grieving but she'd never ask her daughter to do this...right?

Jurian strode through the halls mulling the last few years over her head. Had she always been this close to madness ajd he'd never known? Had Aleksander encouraged this thinking? Had she sunk into this when he was gone and not able to drag her out? 

"Anastasiya?"

She didn't look up from the report on her desk. Her clothes hung limp on her. She ate when she was forced to - as a mean to sustain herself. But there was no joy in the act. 

"Did you bring the briefings? I need them to corroborate the -"

"Did you ask Genya to seduce that fae official?"

Anastasiya went silent but slowly looked to them. Her eyes cold and impassive. 

"Did she not do it? Or was she caught -"

"You told your daughter to seduce an emissary of -"

"Don't act like we didn't do things in that war on father's orders Jurian. We -"

He leaned onto the desk, lightning sparking on his fingers. He pushed Miryam from his mind. The way his body had revolted at her touch. 

"I hated it. You know what those orders did to me. How could you tell her to follow in that? How could you whore your own child out to -"

Anastasiya's eyes flashed and she raised her chin to meet his eyes. 

"She is a princess of this empire. She will make the sacrifices I ask of her Jurian or she can leave and hide like her sister did. The fae official is rumored to know where Drakon hid that Cauldron. We need it if Aleksander is to come home to -"

"He isn't coming back Anastasiya! He is dead and you are driving our empire to ruins! You are becoming exactly like Hypaxia? Do you not see it! How do you not hear the way our people cry for justice and demand peace? How much more death and destruction can they take?"

She leaned toward him, her voice low crackling ice. 

"They will ensure till I have my Aleksander back. If they cannot handle that they are welcome to leave. I'm sure the fae will happy to have more bodies for their pleasure houses or wine orchards. There is no nice home, there is no peace in this world. They leave they become the fae's whores. Or they are dragged to the Fae Orchards and their blood watering their fields to make Soulwine. The Asteri keep us all on edge and since I don't have the means or power to destory Midgard. This is what I am doing with my time. What are you doing Jurian besides whining at injustice?"

--------

Alina held the Archoness crown, she held more power than she ever had. If it wasn't for the singular goal she'd raze it all to the ground. 

She looked at Aleksander. Anastasiya hadn't left his arms but she didn't look to be providing any information.

Alina herself tried to focus on them and not the taste of power she was surely about loose. She'd used the Asteri and beat them at their own game. It was only a matter of time before they killed her. 

It helped the Changelings and other dark forces were hunting them down and scattering the fae and laying waste to Midgard. It would buy them a few extra weeks to hide. 

"Jurian chased Anastasiya out. They fought but we weren't briefed about what. Ulla has taken the mantle she sent a missive for you Aleksander."

Ivan put the letter down on the counter and stepped back. He didn't even know if Aleksander even knew or heard anything they'd both said. They'd done this for him, had broken every rule they'd grown up in. They'd destoryed the last bit of balance this world had. 

It was anyone's guest what happened now.

//it got worse 👀//

A few extra weeks, to hide. The notion made his blood bail with rage, his anger seethed within him as he thought about everything they had built after all these years. Everything, they had obtained it with Alina.

However, the enemies she made. He had never calculated what had happened, he had never imagined that Night's Beating Heart would put herself forward.

His fingers gently brushed through Anatasiya's hair, his gaze rose to meet Ivan as he spoke. The information he gave caused his chin to tighten, he had always known Jurian was never going to be an ally. Not someone that they could trust.

"Thank you Ivan." He reached out his hand as he took the letter, opening it to read the missive from his daughter.

#Muse | Aleksander

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 24: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Chapters: 24/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Thor(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Time For Exciting Legal Bullshit, Loki Sincerely Apologizes For The First Time, Don’t Get Used To It Summary: Reader finally becomes Official, Loki starts to really get his shit together, Thor enables them both.

Andsvarr sat on the end of his cot, face in his hands to hide his embarrassment and his rage. Moments before, his father had stormed out in a fury, after bursting in and, in front of everybody, causing a huge row. Someone had informed him that Andsvarr had been removed from the honor of a room in the royal chambers, and relegated back into the barracks with the commoners. Someone had told him that you were now in that room, and Alarr, ever ready to find insult to him and his, had drawn some unflattering conclusions. Andsvarr had naturally tried to defend you honor, after all, he knew you; his father did not. All it had led to was a wrathful argument, and a disturbance of the relative peace of the barracks.

He would hear about all the lost sleep later, no doubt.

                                                                    *****

You were dressed and eating breakfast when Loki knocked on your door, and you bid him enter without any hesitation. He sat quietly at the foot of your bed, waiting to be acknowledged, which was very different for him, and you deliberately took a few more bites before saying anything. You weren't actually all that angry with him anymore, and after this week or so to yourself, just thinking and doing new things, you weren't all that frightened anymore either. Brunnhilde had told you that regular exercise could help with depression and anxiety, and she may well have been right. You felt strong now.

Loki was dressed rather fancy today, in a golden chest plate that was probably actually nornbein. It was covered in intricate scrollwork, matched to his bracers and greaves. He even wore his horns, though these were more of a crown than a helmet.

“You clean up nice.” You teased. “What's the occasion?”

“You are, my dear. I am taking you to see the History Hall, and it is being made into an Official Visit.”

So that was why your dress was more lavish than usual today. This one even had some beads sewn onto it, and the strings between the oval strap-brooches were no longer braided yarn, but strings of glass beads. Your sash was, again, no longer braid, but a length of embroidered cloth, with a buckle in the shape of a tail-biting snake.

“How Official, are we talking?”

“Oh, it's basically an inspection. That way, we will have the entire place to ourselves, and it will be sure to be in top shape. Afterwards, the king requests both our presences in the main throne room. This will also be very Official, if somewhat informal. It is to discuss your future: what you want, what we can offer, what it all means for you. So that you no longer have to be unsure of where you are going, or what to do with yourself. Does this sound acceptable?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think that'll be really helpful. I like the room, by the way. It actually looks like someone lives here.”

“That is exactly what I was aiming for.” Loki said proudly. “If you would like, we can go into town, and I can take you to the shops, to get yourself some things. Toiletries, books, whatever you want.”

“I noticed that my mythology book has gone missing.”

“I removed it. It was full of misinformation, and it distressed you. I hope you don't find this too disagreeable?” He seemed to be actually apprehensive about your reaction; though his expression hadn't changed, there was a tenseness around his eyes.

“I'm not angry about that, if you're worried. I'm more...embarrassed by it all.” Finished with your meal, you stood nervously, and he echoed your actions. “I should have asked. I should have tried to find out if any of that was true or not, and instead I acted like...like that. I'm sorry, Loki. I'll always ask, from now on.”

You glanced up at him, entreating forgiveness, to find that he was not looking directly at you, but a little to the side. He held his arms slightly open, just far enough that you could fit between them. So that was his answer.

You stepped in and hugged him.

“There are many things I should have asked as well.” He admitted. “I was so sure I had everything under control. But you are a human, accustomed to a different life, and a different culture, with life experiences that I have no parallel for. I should have asked for your opinions, your thoughts. I didn't treat you like a person, and for that I...I also apologize. Going forward, let us not fear to speak to one another. Let us help each other to...Help each other.”

You looked up at him. He glanced down at you.

“It sounded better in my head.” He muttered.

“Loki Silvertongue, master of eloquence.”

“Now see here-” He mock-scolded, interrupted by knocking at the door. The two of you separated immediately, and Loki sighed heavily. “Yes, enter.”

Andsvarr peeked in. “Your Highness? A missive from the king.” He handed Loki a folded piece of paper, smiled and waved at you, and then took his leave.

Loki scanned the paper. “Hm. It looks as if we must rearrange our activities for the day. My brother wishes to see us first thing. The museum must wait for later in the day. Shall we?”

He offered his arm, and you took it.

                                                                         ******

The main throne room would soon deserve a better name, if the half-finished grandeur around you was any indication. There would be murals on the walls and high ceiling, several of them already sketched out and the painting begun. There would be tapestries or weavings, though right now, there was only one. It looked like there would also be ornate light fixtures, and perhaps some kind of mosaic on the floor. It was going to be very impressive, but for now, it simply felt like a construction zone.

One that, you noticed with gratitude, had been swept scrupulously clean.

Thor looked much more serious than you were used to, clothed in his own finery; silver and red. He too, wore a crown-like version of his helmet, shining wings framing his lengthening hair. To your surprise and confusion, he wore a golden eyepatch; something you had never seen him in.

“What happened?” You whispered.

“Oh, it's just eyeball maintenance day. The old thing needs regular cleaning and tune-ups.”

“I am suddenly thirteen times more nervous than I was before, thank you.”

“He has a mechanical prosthetic eye. Ha, did you think it was heterochromia?”

“After this, I'm going to go find a dictionary, look up that word, and then hit you with it.”

“The word, or the dictionary?”

“Step forward.” Thor commanded sternly. Your spine straightened. Oops. Probably should not be gossiping about the king, in front of the king.

The two of you crossed the rest of the gap between you and Thor, following the narrow strip of carpet all the way up to the stepped dais that held the throne. It was just a large and sturdy chair, nothing all that fancy. It didn't look very comfortable, but it did have a compartment on one side that held Stormbreaker. You wondered how often the King of Asgard needed a weapon in his own throne room.

“Loki Odinson, Aesir, Crown Prince of Asgard, Former King of Asgard. Heir of Ice. Spear of Ragnarok, Defender of Asgard. God of Mischief. Slayer of Laufey, Who Avenged the Queen, Foremost Seidmader, Secret Defender-”

It went on and on, a litany of Loki's names and accomplishments, spoken in a sort of sonorous almost-chant that reverberated off the walls.

“-Who is this that you bring before me? Present your petitioner to me.”

“I am pleased to present to you _____ ______, Native of Midgard, Bearer of the Sapphire Rune, Ax-Thief, Blade-Thief, Novice Sorceress, Survivor. Provider of Bread. Baker of Cinnamon Rolls.”

Wow, he had really liked them, hadn't he?

“I petition that she be appointed Seidkona to myself, that she may add her service to me, and that we may stand stronger together.”

“And why should I grant this appointment? State your reasons.”

Thor still sounded stern, but you could see the twitch of a smile on his lips, from the cinnamon roll comment.

This must all be some kind of special rite. Not only had Loki not lost an ounce of his noble posture under Thor's seeming 'doubt', but he seemed to expect it. Neither of the two had acted so formal before, but this ceremonial act must simply be the way these things were done, for the two of them to be so perfectly well-versed in the proceedings.

You, however, didn't quite know what to  expect. Thor wouldn't really refuse this, would he? Depending on Loki's answer? This was all already planned. But maybe this was all necessary to make it really official. Like a baptism for someone who has already converted, or a second interview.

“First, and also foremost: I have, one way or another, the right by birth, to gather a proper retinue of advisors and attendants. The Seidknona is among the most important of the advisory positions, and I feel that _____'s fresh and outside perspective would be most valuable in navigating life on this planet.

As a human who is learning Asgardian magic, she will be an important bridge between our peoples, and as an individual with a unique, personal connection to myself, it would be well for me to keep her close, and heed her.

And thirdly, I have an obligation to her, and her care. I have pledged to provide for her, and that includes more than just food, clothes, and shelter. It includes pastimes and opportunity, education and career. All of this can be wrapped up in this single appointment, one I am owed by blood, and one she is owed by word.”

“All noted. And you, _____ ______, what do you say on your own behalf?”

Your turn? What could you say that Loki hadn't? What made you worthy?

“Um, well. I stole your ax right out of your hand, and I'm only going to get better. Also, I'll make you more cinnamon rolls.”

Loki actually broke posture to glance sharply down at you. “You too.” You reassured him.

Thor broke the same, by laughing. “A bargain! I agree! Now, I'll just need you both to sign this and it'll be official...” From behind the compartment that held Stormbreaker, he retrieved a large book, and a wooden box. The book was full of runic writing, which you could not read yet, but when Loki signed, you could almost make out his name.

“Do I...Should I...”

“English is fine.” Thor said.

“But what does it say?” You wouldn't sign until you knew nothing objectionable was hidden in the runes. You were pretty sure Thor wouldn't lie about that. “Sorry if that's rude.”

Loki was smiling. “Suspicion is freedom, my dear. Always trust that first, for as long as it takes to find the answers. But do try to find the answers. Suspicion alone will not inform you.”

“You just don't want to get punched in the face again.”

He shrugged. “That part wasn't so bad.”

Thor cleared his throat. “This is merely fancy writing that boils down to your official appointment to Seidkona-in-training, giving you permission to exercise the powers and privileges of that title, and securing your agreement to fulfill the duties of the office. I'll have a translated copy delivered to you, if you would like.”

“Before or after I've signed? I mean, if I sign, and then I find something disagreeable in the copy, then-”

“Then you may use the power of your office to dispute it.” Thor said.

You looked between the two of them. “I can do that?” It hadn't occurred to you that you could fight back against the king.

“Of course. This isn't actually an absolute monarchy, no matter how much it functions like one. We do have a constitution, and it allows for a wide range of legal protections, up to and including the right to take legal action against my person.”

“Oh. Well. All right.” There was a lot you had to learn, and all of it as soon as possible. You signed, just hoping that you really knew what you were doing.

“There are also a few other documents for you to sign, if you wish.” Thor flipped the page. “This one grants you Asgardian citizenship. I can't do anything about Icelandic citizenship; that'll have to be a separate thing, if you want it. But this guarantees that the rights and privileges of an Asgardian citizen belong to you, that you are subject to our laws, our justice, and out protection. With this, you can't legally be removed from New Asgard without your or my permission.”

That sounded just fine. You signed the page without hesitation.

“And this one transfers legal responsibility for you from Loki, to myself.”

You glanced back and forth between them. “I don't understand.”

“It is a failsafe to secure your quality of life.” Loki explained. “Since you will be appointed to me, and spending a great deal of time with me, we might...get on each others nerves, you might say? This agreement forbids me personally from issuing you any form of punishment that might effect your life. I will not be able to banish you, have you detained or imprisoned, have you removed from your lodgings, nor contained within them. I will not be allowed to issue physical punishment, nor deprive you of any necessities of life or happiness, nor rescind any gifts or privileges previously offered. It even specifically states that I may not use magic for any of these purposes either. The responsibility for all of that falls upon Thor, and I must expressly seek his permission for any of it. Which I am unlikely to do over some petty squabble.”

“You agreed to that?” You asked, shocked at the amount of power over you that he was giving up.

He raised his chin. “I suggested it. I cannot have a Seidkona who tiptoes around me as if there is glass in her shoes. You must not fear to speak. I will still be responsible for your safety and your keeping, but he will be responsible for your legality.”

You signed without another word.

Both brothers looked immensely pleased. You were sure you did too: this took a great burden of worry from your shoulders, after all. Loki's power over your living conditions had been a source of anxiety for you from day one, but now he had willingly given up all that power. He hadn't even been forced to do it!

“From now on, you will be spending a great deal of time with me.” Loki said. “You will need to shadow me, be beside me at all times, watch and learn from me. You'll be learning the language, the history, and I will be more attentive to your magical training. I know this sounds a bit overwhelming, worry not; I won't pile too much on you at once. And you have proven to be a swift learner. I have every confidence that you will pick things up with all speed.”

That was very gratifying to hear, considering how borderline insulting he had been in those first few days of knowing him. Though, come to think of it, he had never cast any real doubt on your intelligence.

“And you'll be getting a stipend as well, so you needn't worry about being entirely reliant on me. You'll be able to resume what hobbies you have. Do you use a cellphone? We can get you one of those as well, should you require it.”

“Actually that would be really useful!” You brightened even more. A real job, education, companionship, some of the trappings of actually existing within a society...This was what you needed, to feel like you were a functional member of a community.

As a vacation, this whole situation had been terrible. But as a new life opportunity...

It had potential.

#loki x reader #loki (marvel) #thor (marvel)

[philosopherking1887]

Prince of Darkness, Part III

My 666-follower giveaway fic for @shine-of-asgard, which I originally intended to be between 1000 and 2000 words, is now more than 7000 words... and I still have one part left. This is even worse than the time my 2500-word giveaway fic for @darklittlestories came out at 5200. Length limits are seriously not my thing.

Part I, Part II

————————————

Thor was beginning to think he might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her (he called himself her “advisor,” which seemed odd considering that she held no political power) had given his implicit permission.

So it came as a complete surprise when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode, “Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?”

Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full measure of her fury and disappointment?

He emerged from the room where he had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.

“Mother, I did not expect to see you,” he said cautiously.

“Thor, my son,” she said, her voice thick, and rushed forward to embrace him.

“Mother, I don’t understand… I thought you blamed me for Father’s death, had forbidden me to return…”

Frigga drew back with a look of consternation. “Who told you that?”

“Loki. He came here to see me, two days ago now.”

Frigga shook her head frantically, a hand straying toward her mouth. “No, Thor, your father is still alive, though he did succumb to the Odinsleep after putting it off for so long. But Eir and I have had to wake him before his strength was fully restored.”

“What? Why? Why would Loki lie to me? Mother, what has happened at home?”

Frigga closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she answered, and how had Thor not noticed the redness around her eyes? “Loki is… missing. No one has seen him for two days. Which might not be a cause for alarm, except that…”

“…he was King while Father was Sleeping. And Heimdall has seen nothing?”

“Nothing of Loki, no. He has known for some time that Loki can conceal himself when he wishes, but we assumed it was only some foolish love-affair he wanted to keep secret… But what he has seen is even more troubling. Jötunheim is awake again, showing an energy and rebuilding at a pace that can only mean…”

“…the Casket,” Thor filled in. “Where is it?”

“Not in the Vault. We looked, General Tyr and I, and it seemed to be there. But on a hunch, I shielded my hand and tried to touch it, and it vanished. An illusion.”

Thor’s mind insisted there was only one way to put together the information he was receiving, but his heart refused its verdict. “They must have captured Loki, forced him to call off the Destroyer…”

“Oh, Thor…” Frigga’s voice cracked. “You must speak with your father. Call Mjölnir and we shall go at once.”

“Mjölnir? But I could not lift her…”

“Your father has lifted the banishment. This is too important, and we need you.”

Thor raised his hand and reached out for his weapon… and she answered. After a few moments he realized that he needed to go outside so that the hammer would not come crashing through the glass doors.

Having Mjölnir back in his hand comforted him… but the worry he felt for Loki was too sharp and pressing for even her presence to offer much relief. He bade his Midgardian friends a hurried farewell, thanked them for their help and hospitality, promised to come visit them when he could. Then, with Mjölnir’s aid, he and Frigga flew back to the Bifröst site, she called to Heimdall, and in scarcely an instant they were back in the Observatory… in the place where, barely four days ago, his world had fallen apart.

Horses were waiting for them on the bridge. Thor was still wearing the Midgardian clothing Jane had lent him; after fumbling a bit, he tied Mjölnir to the belt loop of his jeans so that he could mount.

The time they spent traveling passed at once too swiftly to recall and too slowly to bear. At last Frigga led him into the chamber where Odin had Slept. He was still reclining in the great golden bed cushioned with furs, drinking some revitalizing potion from a silver goblet at his bedside.

Thor knelt by his father’s bed and took his hand, feeling the dormant strength beneath the fragile papery skin. “I am sorry, Father. Sorry for my defiance, my arrogance… tell me how I can help my brother.”

There was pity in Odin’s gaze when he said, “I don’t need you to help him. I need you to stop him.”

The words chilled Thor to the spine like the wind in Jötunheim. He carefully withdrew his hands from his father’s, stood and backed away a few steps. “I don’t understand.”

“Thor, we should have told you, we should have told you both,” Frigga said; if his mother were not usually so dignified and composed, he might have called it an outburst.

“Should have told me what.” His fear settled like a block of ice in his stomach, radiating cold through all his limbs.

“Loki is not our son by birth,” Odin said, his voice too calm, too neutral. “I found him as a baby in Jötunheim, at the end of the war. He was born too small, so Laufey—his father—left him to die.”

Thor could not believe what he was hearing. “That’s impossible. Loki is not a Frost Giant. He looks no different than any of us…” He stopped. But Loki did look different from everyone in his family; Thor had even teased him about it—the dark hair, the long nose, the lean build—and jokingly called him an Elven changeling.

“He’s a shapeshifter; it’s a rare trait among Jötnar, but not unheard of. He shifted to an Aesir form as soon as I picked him up, sensing a possible provider. And he stayed that way until… something happened during your idiotic excursion to Jötunheim. He went down to the Vault to try holding the Casket; I saw what he was doing and went to stop him, and he confronted me.” Odin’s eye clouded for a moment, as he drifted into troubling memory. “That was when I fell into the Sleep. He was angry, irrational…”

“How could he not be angry?” Thor interjected.

“He would be dead if not for me!” Odin snapped, and lying there in his nightgown wrapped in furs he seemed more like a querulous old man than he ever had before. "But how did he repay me? He stole the Casket and took it right back to Laufey.”

“Laufey is dead,” Frigga put in, her voice brittle. “Heimdall has seen that too. There was some sort of power struggle with his sons…”

“Maybe Loki betrayed that father, too. Better to have the viper in someone else’s nest...”

“Loki isn’t a viper,” Thor said through gritted teeth.

“Blood will out,” Odin said as if he hadn’t heard, his eye burning into Thor’s. “I should have known. The boy was always a liar and a sneak…”

“Odin!” Frigga cried, anguished. “He’s our son!”

“Not anymore.” Odin’s pronouncement carried the weight of a disowning.

“He’s still my brother,” Thor said with quiet vehemence.

“You can believe that all you want, but you’ll still fight him when he comes with a Jötun army to assail Asgard.”

“He won’t,” Thor insisted.

“You think returning their greatest weapon to them will be the end of it? No, Thor; he has chosen a side and it isn’t ours.”

Odin was half right. When the Jötun army came to Agard, Loki wasn’t with them. But it was plain that they had an insider’s knowledge of the palace, the city, the land. They destroyed hidden stores of food so that the city would not be able to withstand a siege; they blockaded the entrances to a secret fortress in the mountains so that the people could not take refuge there and raided caches of weapons so that the populace could not take up arms. To their credit, Thor thought, it seemed that they tried to minimize civilian casualties: the aim was to humiliate Agard’s rulers, not to make enemies of its people.

Odin sent an emissary under a white flag to the camp the Jötnar had established in the mountains, bearing a missive that read, “Odin All-Father demands that you turn over the traitor Loki Laufeyson.” The emissary returned, frightened but unharmed, with a reply, written in large letters on his white flag: “Odin Father of Lies does not seem to be in a position to demand much of anything. The traitor Loki Laufeyson conveys his warmest regards to Frigga All-Mother and invites her to send a message when she wishes to discuss terms of surrender. She has the word of King Helblindi that she shall not come to harm. Jötunheim has no quarrel with Vanaheim, but remembers ancient alliances before the Realms submitted to Asgard’s tyranny.”

Odin was furious; Frigga said nothing. He did not even ask whether she planned to take Loki up on his offer. Thor thought that might be a mistake. Once his parents might have thought and acted as one… but Frigga had been quiet and distant since Odin had disowned Loki. Thor realized that it would not surprise him if she acted on her own contrary to Odin’s wishes—not only as Queen of Asgard, jointly responsible for the Realm’s well-being, but as All-Mother of the Nine Realms and a princess of Vanaheim.

As Thor led skirmishes against the Jötnar, he wondered always if he would encounter Loki: he looked for a shorter, slighter figure among the hulking giants; he half expected at every moment to come face to face with his brother, to confront that face he knew better even than his own… but would it be icy blue, now, the crystal-green eyes turned to red? Would he know his brother in such a guise, by anything else but his stature?

He asked Heimdall at every opportunity for news of Loki. He was no longer concealing himself; he was in Jötunheim, contributing his magical skill to its rebuilding with the aid of the Casket. Meanwhile, the Jötun army laid siege to Asgard, and Thor knew that Asgard could not long hold out. Odin stubbornly insisted that he would not yield; Frigga grew ever more quiet and distant. Thor wondered how long it would be before she accepted the invitation to negotiate a surrender.

Four months after the invasion of Asgard, the stalemate was disrupted when Heimdall brought news to the royal family: a Jötun force had invaded the northern reaches of Midgard, near the site of their incursion more than a thousand years before. Loki was at its head.

“I must go,” Thor told his parents, and neither of them disputed it.

He assembled a cadre of his most trusted warriors: Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral, and the Lady Sif, along with a handful of the Einherjar he knew best. He asked Heimdall to locate an Agent Philip, son of Coul, who might be able to rally Midgard’s own forces to her defense; Heimdall told him that Coulson and a contingent of Midgardian warriors were already in the region where Loki and his soldiers had arrived.

So Heimdall sent Thor and his chosen companions to the far north of Midgard. In many ways, Thor thought, it was like the desert where he had first landed: barren of vegetation as far as he could see, with only the stark beauty of mountain crags rising from the empty expanse, the harsh dry air cut through by winds that roared and shrieked like berserkers that scented blood.

The Jötnar were at the edge of the land, where the ice met the sea. Coulson was there with his Midgardian agents, clad in their strange black cloth armor over the bulky layers that protected them from the cold. Two strange warriors were with them, one in a suit of red and gold metal armor that wholly enclosed his body, another in lighter red and blue armor with a silver star on his chest and on his blue-and-red shield.

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Blake… or is it Thor?” Coulson greeted him.

Thor skipped over the pleasantries. “We are here to aid you in defeating the Frost Giants. Tell us what we must do.”

“I think you might have come to the wrong party,” said a muffled voice from the red and gold armor.

“I don’t understand.”

“Thor, allow me to present Mr. Tony Stark,” Coulson said, gesturing to the man in the metal armor. “And Captain Steven Rogers.” The blue-and-red warrior nodded. “And your friends are…?”

“Lady Sif and the Warriors Three: Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you all, but it’s actually looking like defeating won’t be necessary,” Coulson explained with his usual understated equanimity. “Director Fury is waiting for confirmation from the World Security Council and the UN, but it appears we’re going to be able to come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement with those—” Monsters, he had been about to say. But Loki was one of them; he always had been. “With those invaders?” he finished lamely.

“They describe themselves as immigrants seeking a better life,” said the warrior with the shield, Captain Rogers. His voice was stern, almost accusing.

“Is that what they are?” Volstagg scoffed, and Fandral laughed. Thor held up a hand to silence them.

“They said their homeworld was devastated by war a thousand years ago and deprived of the resources to rebuild. By your world, interestingly enough,” Coulson added mildly. “They’re just now starting to restore their own planet, but it will take some time for their society and economy to recover. Some of them think they’d fare better here.”

“And so they might,” Thor acknowledged. “But what of the Midgardians… the humans who live here now?”

Stark made an exaggerated show of looking around, swiveling his helmeted head while its expression remained frozen. “Are there some I didn’t know about?”

“Not right here,” Sif interjected impatiently. “In your Realm.”

“The government of Norway seems quite amenable to the arrangement,” Coulson said. “As are the governments of Greenland and Denmark. They’ll have to put it to a vote in their respective parliaments, of course, and maybe even a referendum, but a military response doesn’t seem to be on the horizon.”

“What is the nature of this ‘arrangement’?” Hogun asked, matching Coulson’s imperturbable neutrality.

“As you may be aware, Earth’s climate has been dangerously warming due to unfortunate energy-capture practices…”

“That’s a really euphemistic way of saying ‘human stupidity,’” Stark put in.

“…and the Jötnar have offered us a way to protect the Earth from some of the effects of that warming. Or maybe even reverse it entirely.”

“They want to settle on the glaciers and ice sheets of the Arctic and Antarctic,” Captain Rogers explained, seeming annoyed by Coulson’s vagueness. “No one lives there anyway.”

“That is blatant penguin erasure,” said Stark, puzzlingly.

“Don’t forget polar bears,” Coulson added, deadpan as ever.

“No people live on the glaciers and ice sheets. They’ve assured us that they have only peaceful intentions toward the surrounding populations. They’ll trade, of course, but respect human territorial sovereignty.”

The Asgardians exchanged skeptical glances; Volstagg even snorted aloud, and Thor glared at him.

“And in return they’ll use their magic Casket prevent the ice from melting,” Rogers finished, with a glare of his own.

“It’s not magic, it’s energy transfer,” Stark muttered.

“It’s really a win-win solution for everyone,” Coulson said. “They’ll get an environment that works for them, protect the local ecosystems, and stop sea level rise. Hunting and fishing rights will have to be worked out, but in light of the benefits…”

“I must warn you that the promises of Jötnar cannot be trusted,” Thor said.

“Funny, that’s exactly what they said about you Asgardians,” Coulson replied, neutral as ever.

Sif growled low in her throat; Thor wasn’t sure it was voluntary. “Was there a man among them who was smaller than the rest—about my height?”

“Yes, the one who spoke to us on their behalf was just the size of a tall human. The others seemed not to speak any human languages. I wondered if they choose their ambassadors to avoid intimidating the locals.”

“No,” Thor said sharply. “He is the only one of his size, or one of very few; the Jötnar kill the rest at birth. He grew up in Asgard, so he is the only one who has knowledge of the All-Tongue. That is why he was their spokesman.”

“That and the ‘silver tongue,’” Fandral contributed. “He can be very persuasive.”

“You seem to know this guy pretty well,” said Rogers, sounding suspicious.

“He was raised as my brother.” A knot seemed to form in Thor’s throat even as he said it, and he half-choked on the last word.

“Wow, this is some real George R. R. Martin shit,” Stark commented. He muttered something to himself; Thor thought he made out the word “fucking,” but he couldn’t be sure. Coulson gave Stark a reproving look.

“If you have a way to send him a message… would you tell him that his brother wishes to speak with him? That I have no desire to fight him, only to talk.”

“Of course, we can do that,” Coulson replied graciously.

“And I thought I’d been to some awkward family reunions,” said Stark.

————————————

Note: Yeah, I thought the conversation between Thor and Loki deserved its own part. I hope it won’t get too much longer...

#my fanfiction #loki fanfiction #thor and loki fanfiction #thor fanfiction #thor #loki #canon-divergent au #loki and laufey #odin's a+ parenting #odin #frigga #laufey

[fanfic-collection]

Pirates: Loki x Reader - Ch 1

It's the 17th century, Loki and Thor have been sent to Midgard to track down a rogue ice sorceress, they're trying to blend in with humans so their powers are as hidden as they can manage. The ice sorceress became a pirate and trusts no one. To gain her trust, the brothers have become pirates in their own right. (Alternate timeline where Loki knows his true heritage at this point in history but is deeply ashamed of it, he and Thor are on good terms. )

“And you're certain these are the coordinates?” Loki muttered, holding still the ship's wheel.

The first mate nodded enthusiastically, a look of nervousness on his features, fearful of disappointing his captain. “Aye, sir, this was the direction she was headed.”

Loki nodded, his gaze turning towards the horizon.

“You really think she'll show?” Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs to the raised platform where Loki stood, guiding the ship. A blonde crown of hair appeared, followed by the rest of the muscular man.

“It's the only lead we have, brother.”

“And why are you captain again?” Thor asked, his eyes twinkling jovially.

Loki smirked, sliding his hand along the wide brim of his cavalier hat. The hat was gold, even the feather, matching the accents of his green and black outfit. Two tiny triangle flaps of material lined the crown of his hat, if only faintly resembling horns. He missed his normal helmet but this one was far more conducive to their current work and still bore a resemblance to his horned motif. “Because I'm clearly the better pilot.”

“For seafaring vehicles.” Thor muttered, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight. His long blonde hair hung in ringlets to his shoulders, resting on the smooth muscled skin. His long red velvet coat he normally wore for formal occasions was missing, clearly discarded in his quarters. Instead he wore a blue sleeveless shift, brown trousers and thick leather boots that rose to his knees. His outfit was one of practicality.

Loki wore a long green coat with tails that fell to his knees, flared out at the back, black leather kneehigh boots and a black button-up tunic, buttoned to his throat and pinned with an ebony gem. His long black hair was loosely tied back, preventing the wind from whipping it into his face. Across his chess lay crisscrossing black belts, sheathed with a half dozen daggers. Loki's muscles shifted easily to the swaying of the boat as he guided the ship lazily, an easy air about him. He was leaner than Thor, that was apparent, but his muscles were tightly wound coils able to hold the ship still in even the fiercest of storms.

“Leave us, Pons.” Loki dismissed the first mate.

Pons bowed his head and scurried off.

Thor walked over and stood shoulder to shoulder with Loki, his back facing the rest of the ship's deck as the many workers scurried about. “I'm not sure I'm fond of this scoundrel life, it's lacking honor.”

Loki smirked again, eyes slitted against the wind, “Come now brother, you seemed quite fond of our missive when it involved loading the cannons.”

Thor glanced over at Loki for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face as he once more turned his head to watch the horizon. The deep blue ocean went on forever, as far as he could see, no sign of land in sight. “I will admit that was fun.”

“And you do love your battles.”

“You seem to love the stealing far more than you should.” Thor retorted.

“We're stealing from corrupt nobility, paying honest sailors a living wage that they can't get anywhere else. They would be next to slaves if they were on so called honest ships.”

“We are nobility.” Thor grumbled.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Not here. And you'll forgive me if I find ways to enjoy myself while we look for her.”

Thor sighed, “Yes, the rage of battle even on such a location as these ships we moor is diverting.”

“You enjoy it.”

“I do.”

“Now then, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“One of the lookouts thought he saw fog in the distance, that is her thing, yes?”

Loki nodded stiffly, “They didn't call out?”

“They weren't sure if it was an incoming storm or something else. You know how wary the sailors get of witchcraft.”

“Well if it's not you, and it's not natural,” Loki trailed off, glancing pointedly at Thor.

“Captain!” A voice cried out from the lookout tower. “Fog on the horizon!”

“It's not me.” Thor muttered, “And it's not natural.”

“We've been at this for two years now.” Loki peeled his gaze towards the horizon where a dense fog was slowly rolling in. A dark shadow loomed from the mists as the fog drew closer.

Thor turned around, following Loki's gaze. “You were right about her not trusting us. Surely it would have been easier to just disguise ourselves as nobility and let her rob us.”

Loki shrugged, “This was more enjoyable, a respite from home. Besides, I didn't want to take chances, we don't know anything about her crew that they would trust someone so obviously using magic and who knows the extent of her powers.”

Thor grunted, “I could take her.”

“She's a powerful sorceress brother, we don't know the extent of what we're dealing with and neither you nor I can breathe under water. I want all the advantages we can have.”

Scowling, Thor's eyes darkened irritably, “You sound like you admire her.”

“If she were a great muscly brute like you, I'm sure your interest would be piqued, as it is, this is my area of expertise, I can't help a small amount of curiosity.”

“What exactly is your plan again?”

“We make an ally of her, perhaps she will return home willingly. Besides, there was no limit on how long we were given to apprehend her, perhaps she can be amenable to our ways. Asgard could use a powerful sorceress to defend it.”

The fog now surrounded the ship, slowly blocking out the sun. In the distance, it was becoming obvious that the large shadowy object was indeed an approaching ship. The sailors on Loki and Thor's vessel scurried about nervously.

“Hold steady!” Loki called, raising his voice that he might be heard over the whipping wind. The sailors pulled and tugged at various ropes and cords, some running below deck to check the cannons and assemble various weapons.

Thor touched the hammer fastened to his waist. A curious weapon for a sailor but the one he was best with. Though it had been enchanted to hide any runes or obvious markings of its true nature.

Now the fog swelled over the boat, snaking its thick tendrils along the deck and blocking the view of Loki's men. He could barely make out Thor standing a few steps from him.

“Pons, hold the wheel.” Loki ordered loudly.

A few moment's later, the first mate came stumbling up the stairs and over to Loki, taking the captain's spot at the ship's wheel.

“Which direction?” Pons stammered.

“Just hold her steady.” Loki muttered.

Pons bobbed his head.

A great black shadow loomed before them, floating lazily over to the side of the ship. Then as suddenly as the fog had sprung up, it vanished.

A massive vessel, almost twice the size as Loki and Thor's ship loomed beside them. A crew of fierce, ugly men, they looked more like trolls than actual men, stood gathered on the edge of the opposite ship. Their weapons were all drawn, various clubs, cudgels, swords, and blades. They glared menacingly at the ship.

Loki walked down the stairs from the captain's wheel, making his way to the point where a plank might be tossed and the two vessels' occupants could meet. Thor followed slowly after him.

Walking with a calm, easy strut, Loki stopped among his gathered crew, his own men glaring back at the crew of the other ship.

“Who are you?” One of the trolllike men growled, a rag wrapped around his head. Loki guessed he was the firstmate.

“I am Loki, captain of the Black Raven, my brother Thor, co-captain.” He tilted his head in the direction of Thor. Thor raised his hand in greeting. “We seek the captain of the Plomour.”

“Do you now?” A cold voice called. The troll men parted and a woman stood among their ranks. You.

-

Your men parted around you as you walked over to the edge of your ship, stopping just before the rails. You clasped your hands behind your back and scanned the opposite ship. You had heard of the Black Raven, the captains were the most deadly in battle and the younger of the two was said to be an excellent tactician, but that seemed to be the extent. For as much as you were shrouded in mystery, they were too. They had only been raiding noble vessels for a few years, appearing as if overnight fully stocked with their own vessel. Such an occurrence was surely a cause for suspicion.

You wore a long blue doublet, kneehigh white boots – somehow kept pristine throughout years of ocean travel, a deep blue cavalier hat, and icy blue gloves. A long deadly looking scabbard, bedecked with silver trimmings hung at your waist.

The man in the gold hat with long black hair and fierce green eyes stared at you intently.

“I am the captain of the Plomour. You called?”

#Loki x reader #multi chapter

[mystarsforanempire]

loki in therapy: letter to fandral

Tagging @thedashingone for reasons.

Context: Loki goes to his first therapy session. He talks about his relationships with each of the Warriors Three, and especially talks about Fandral. He talks about how cruel Fandral could be with him, and this exchange happens:

“And – forgive me if I’ve missed something – how did you know this was done with your pain in mind?” Loki blinks, staring down at the knotted string between his hands.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems like this fellow, Fandral… You’re saying he flirted with you; that you found him handsome. What makes you think he did this out of some desire to hurt you, as opposed to a desire for you?” Loki is suddenly very aware of the weight of his own tongue in his dry mouth, pressed against the back of his teeth. He thinks of Fandral’s easy smiles, the way he would playfully shove Loki in the side after a battle, thinks of Fandral’s fingers cupping his cheek as he pins Loki against a corridor wall.

“I was his good friend’s younger brother,” Loki murmurs. “I was to him as forbidden fruit. As we each grew older, he ceased his teasing, for I was more confident in refusing his attentions, not falling prey to his japes, and once I was a widower, I’m sure I was less attractive to him. But even then, he would never allow for my solitude. He would constantly draw me into conversations when our band was riding out, forcing me into the spotlight. He would mockingly praise my attributes, or play as my defender when the others spurned me.”

“You mean, he would strive to include you in conversations,” Sven says, not unkindly, “and that he would stand against his friends when they were cruel to you?” Loki feels a sickness make itself known in his stomach, and he stares down at the wood-panelled floor of Sven’s cabin. “Is it so unlikely this young man was just trying to be kind to you? That he genuinely enjoyed, and desired your company?”

So then! Loki sits down to write down his feelings, and he writes a letter to Fandral. Because his entire worldview re: Fandral has kinda just been shattered. 

                                                                             ---

To Fandral the Dashing,

I put pen to paper with great trepidation. Long has it been since we spoke face to face, and longer still since we had a conversation that lasted more than five minutes, and yet I find myself compelled to pen this epistle and send it on to you. I would assure you, forthwith, that I am both hale and hearty in my place upon Asgard. With the greatest of hospitality am I hosted amongst these Avengers, strange bedfellows though they might be for a villain such as I, and I write to you not to beg of you to engender some manner in which to release me, nor to manipulate you into taking some tack against Thor, as I have beseeched you in the past.

Nay, I write without especial intention in mind, I confess. It must seem strange, that I, a man ever concerned with how he might polish his words and put them forth into the world, should find himself with so dumb a tongue, and yet here I stand, at a loss.

I write to ask of you a question. No, that seems so simplistic – I write to you for much more than that, and yet, much less. I hold no illusions, Fandral: I do not believe you owe me aught, and if you see fit to burn this missive upon reading it, I shall not blame you.

First and foremost, I believe I owe you to apology. When I took on the throne after Odin fell into the Odinsleep, with Thor still stranded upon Midgard, I was wrong to be so angry, that you, Sif, Volstagg and Hogun should want to rescue Thor from his prison upon the planet; I was wrong to treat you so callously; I was wrong to send the Destroyer down toward you. All of this, I know, and I regret. I would not insult you with some explanation of what feelings prompted the outburst, for they are irrelevant – all that matters is that I know and understand why you might hate me, for what I did, and that I would offer you whatever apology you see fit. If you would ask of me anything I might offer – be it explanation, be it some service, even some humiliation or punishment you would have me suffer, I will submit to it. You may feel free to open this offer to Volstagg, Hogun and even Sif, too, if you so wish it, but I would ask you – as a favour to myself, undeserving as I am – not reveal the latter contents of this missive.

I am embarrassed by them.

No. Embarrassment is too simple a word, and yet as I write upon this page, the nib of my Midgardian page cutting the clean lines of script upon the parchment, I feel as if mere words will never be sufficient to explain the depth of feeling within me, the great well upon which I draw.

You may think me foolish, I think, in what I am about to say. You might be offended, or angry, or worse, you may find yourself laughing at the obscenity of my blossoming delusion. I know not!

I wish I might meet you, face-to-face, but I feel assuredly I would become tongue-tied, as so often I became when we were alone together. Is it not strange, Fandral, that we can have so certain and so well-established an idea of the self we occupy, and yet be so different in the eyes of those that meet us?

Often, I wept as a child, for I was not viewed as that which I sought to be. I did not measure to Odin’s expectations, nor to Thor’s, nor even to Mother’s, at times; try as I might, I felt I could never be that which Asgard wanted to be, and even when I tried…

But no. I am writing upon the page such nonsenses that I might procrastinate the truth I have so steeled myself to ask of you.

Fandral the Dashing, son of Alvis and Helena, I ask you simply, and I ask you plain: would you have considered us friends, before my betrayal? Is that how you envisaged our connection to one another?

Such stark words on so pale a page. So damning. I ask you not out of some insecurity, merely— Look at my writings, Norns, this is more of a stream of consciousness than a letter, and yet I know I could not bear to redraft it. Undoubtedly, I would become a coward, and I would burn the papers entirely.

For so long, Fandral, I have lived under the impression that you thought me nothing more than the ugly thing at my brother’s side, the wolf snapping at your heels. For centuries, end-to-end, I have believed that each of the kindnesses you ever offered me were little more than attempts to mock me, of which I could not fathom the joke; for millennia I have scorned your compliments as little more than japes and jests, intended to lull me into false security. I have called you a fop and a wastrel, a slattern and a dog; I have slapped away the hands that so gently touched my shoulder when I found myself upset; I have insulted you, and humiliated you, and treated you with such fury, and yet…

This week, I found myself speaking with a fellow, of you. I told him of how cruelly you had treated me, in the past, how unkindly you viewed my company, and he held up a mirror to your treatment of me.

For all I described the cruel things you did to me, he read them back to me in a different tone. Where I saw only unpleasantness, and sadism, he echoed my words and said he espied only kindness on your part.

What am I to do? I feel as if my very heart has been cleaved open, and so here bleeds my heartblood upon the page, as ink.

Fandral, I beseech you. Confirm or deny that which I say.

For all these years, have I truly so mistreated the only man who thought himself my friend? Have I misjudged you so? If that be the case, why, I don’t know how I might even begin to beg of your forgiveness. I think of times we have spent together, and short laughs exchanged in tense moments. I think of the times you would walk with me in Iðunn’s orchard, telling me filthy jokes I determined not to laugh at, and always did, in the end. I think of waking from some battle with you at my sickbed, and my venomous tongue spitting insults at you until you left me to the solitude of my infirmary. So memories brim in my eyes like unshed tears, and I wonder if I have truly misjudged you for so very long.

If that is true… I can give you nothing. I can do nothing to mend my behaviours. I can assure you of nothing except that I shall never do so again, for I am no longer of Asgard. If we were truly friends in your mind, Fandral, then I offer you my deepest apologies. I never deserved you.

And if I am wrong, if my fellow was wrong, if you truly meant to be cruel to me in all those encounters, why, nothing needs to change. You can go on hating me, and I shall go on knowing you are probably right to.

Fandral… Ever did I feel trapped upon Asgard, as a bird within a cage, surrounded by those that would mock its feathers and the cut of its beak, threaten to devour it whole. When I fled, when I would wander off to places unknown to Asgard, I did so with the knowledge that I would one day have to return, and so that day would come.

But when I spent time with you? Whether you thought of me as friend or enemy, Fandral, when we spent time together, Asgard felt less small. You made it feel bigger, more adventurous, less cloying. Whether you thought of me your friend or not, as your rival, your enemy, I would have you know that. Know that for all I tried to hate you, I found affection for you all the same.

(And you are charming. You know that, of course, but… Even I found you so. And if you truly wished to seduce me, all those times, know that I didn’t refuse you out of cruelty. I merely didn’t understand the veracity of your desires. Were things different-- But I speak of times long past. Fires long doused, I’m certain.)

And here I find I must end my ramblings. I ought not send this letter, I know as I finish it, and yet… And yet I feel that I must. It is the first step on the road of a difficult journey.

With all the respect I can muster, Fandral, From a man who would be your friend, Loki, son of Böl.

#c; no more dashing than I | fandral #c; superior self | loki #v; brought to justice #GOD THIS IS REALLY GAY HUH

[dictionarywrites]

10 and frostiron, please?

Let me rephrase that, because I've just seen that you also have a nsfw-list ... "come here, you need a hug" + FrostIron XD

My Ao3 | Send requests | Tip jar! | Meme | Set in Brought To Justice

“Loki! We’re having dinner!” Tony calls as he passes by Loki’s door. There is no answer, but Tony doesn’t pay it any heed - Loki probably just needs time to finish the page he’s reading, or get changed for a meal. Tony heads into the kitchen, taking the plates that Bruce hands him and setting them down on the table. It’s just the four of them tonight - Tony, Bruce, Loki and Steve - as everyone is afield somewhere or other, and Pepper is up in Minnesota visiting family.

“What is it? Smells good,” Bruce says, and Steve laughs.

“Lasagne. Vegetarian.”

“Good call,” Bruce mutters, and when Steve opens the oven to take the dish out, steam fills the air: Bruce turns away to clean off his glasses, and Tony can’t help but snigger. No sign of Loki. He jogs down to the corridor again and knocks.

No answer.

Tony frowns, taking hold of the door handle and turning it, looking into Loki’s room. He’s nowhere to be seen, but Tony can hear the shower running in the bathroom, and he leans into Loki’s door, knocking hard on the door of the en suite. There’s a clatter of bottles, a sharp skidding sound, and then the door opens. 

Loki stands, soaked to his skin with a towel haphazardly tied around his waist, and Tony frowns at him.

“What are you showering for? It’s one in the afternoon - did you just get up?”

“No,” Loki says. There’s an obscene amount of steam in the shower room, and Tony is grateful he doesn’t wear glasses himself as he glances past Loki, then looks at the man itself. Loki’s usually pale chest is crimson, as if he’s been scrubbing off the top layer of his skin.

“You’re red,” he says.

“I was showering,” Loki replies, his tone evasive.

“In what, lava?” Tony moves past Loki, reaching his hand out to put his fingers under the water coming out of the shower, which is barely liquid any more, just to test the temperature, but Loki’s fingers clasp tightly around his wrist, stopping him. “How hot is it?”

“Hot enough.”

“Would it hurt me?”

“The shock could kill you.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters, drawing his hand back. Steam is seeping into the fabric of his shirt and settling onto his skin, making him feel wet and heavy, and he steps out into Loki’s bedroom. There’s a letter on the mahogany dresser, the parchment of the envelope opened, breaking the wax seal, and Loki follows Tony’s gaze, looking grimly at the parchment. “Okay, so you have mysterious mail, and now you’re scalding yourself in the shower. Do I need to play connect the dots, or...?”

“I just wanted to wash,” Loki mutters. “You act as if I’ve performed some grievous act of self harm - the water wasn’t hot enough. I made it hotter.”

“That water,” Tony points out lowly, “is hot enough that it shouldn’t be liquid any more.”

“I’m an alien.”

“You use that as an excuse for everything.” Tony looks at the envelope, then back to Loki. “You okay?” The god’s lips part momentarily, and Loki can see the instinct to lie being overwhelmed by the magic before he huffs out a short exhalation. 

“Read it,” Loki says.

“I’m not gonna go through your mail.”

“Don’t, then,” Loki retorts, and Tony picks the envelope up. The parchment is heavy, and it’s scented with a mild perfume: he opens up the envelope, pulling out the letter inside, and he glances at it. The thickly-lined text is impossible to read, written in Nordic runes, but when Tony opens his mouth to say so, they begin to rearrange themselves before his eyes. 

“Dearest Loki,

I write to you with a heart as heavy as my hammer, aching with woe. I would beg of you, brother, please know that this was not the punishment I would have had of you when I stepped in at Father’s hand - I merely wished to spare you the executioner’s ax, and perhaps you think me wrong to have wished so. If that is the case, I am sorry, but I would not have done differently.

Know that I love you, brother, as dearly as I have ever loved you. Of course I am angry at what you have done - of course I am wounded at your betrayal. But nonetheless, Loki, I write to you with a heart full of love, for you are my brother, and that shall always be so, regardless of what blood you or I might have. 

Pray, do respond. This is the sixth such missive I have sent to Midgard, and yet I hope it will be the one that you write back to - I miss your careful script, and if I should not have you at my side, where you ought be, I should have your letters.

I beg of you, Loki. Forgive me for whatever wrong I might have done you, and write me back.

With all the love of my heart,Thor

Tony looks from the letter to Loki. “He sends you a latter like this, and you’re trying to burn your skin off?”

“What does it say?” Loki asks, his eyes wide and staring, and Tony looks at his face, then down at the parchment.

“You haven’t read it?”

“I haven’t read any of them. This is the first one I’ve dared to open, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the paper itself. You may think me a coward, and perhaps I am one, but I--”

“C’mere, you idiot. You need a hug.” Loki doesn’t move from his place half out of the bathroom, so Tony throws his arms around the other man and hugs him tightly, bodily: the hot water has quickly worn off (or evaporated), and Loki’s skin is as cold and dry as marble, as per the usual. He acts as if he’s never been hugged before, standing stockstill as Tony pats his back, and then Tony hands him the letter.

Loki stares down at the parchment, his eyes travelling swiftly over the words. 

“Oh,” he says.

“Put some clothes on and come sit down to dinner,” Tony says, and Loki immediately sets the letter aside, dropping his towel to the ground to reach for his slacks. Tony stares at the curve of the other man’s pale backside, which is also kinda statue-esque, and decides that this is the time to rush out of the room, sitting as innocently as he can next to Bruce at the table. 

#fanfic #dictionary writes #marvel #mcu #Anomymous #t; answered asks

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Fallen Valkyrie, pt4

Word Count: 2487 Tags:  @outside-the-government @distinguishedqueenofbooks, @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @youdonebeengarthed @auduna-druitt @samaxraph99 @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @little-study-bug

Eira sat in the courtyard, a manuscript perched on the ledge of the fountain, reading. It was a thick tome on the healing properties of the vegetation growing on Asgard and the other known realms. Despite her ability to pull from a deep source of magic to heal wounds, she preferred to make use of herbal remedies. It made life simpler and ensured that anyone who came to Halla’s home for treatment could be treated, regardless of whether or not Eira was available. Herbal healing was her mother’s gift, and while it didn’t have the impact that Eira’s magic had, it was a reliable and constant method of treating the sick. Eira felt she needed to rely on that more than ever, as her responsibilities with the Valkyries would be taking her away more. It was better to find and develop new treatments than depend on Eira getting home in time to save a life. So she was spending all her free time reading and collecting plants, creating salves and tinctures and testing them for efficiency. When they worked, Eira noted exactly how they were made. When they did not, she noted how they were made, how they didn’t work, and if there were ill effects from the use.

She’d been reading about Midgard’s plants for the past few days and was accumulating quite a list of plants she wanted to acquire the next time she was called to the realm. It was a violent time on Midgard, and she thought she would be seeing much of the Northmen over the coming years, which would give her ample time to collect what she was researching.

“I hope you do not mind, Eira. I let myself in.” The male voice startled her, and she nearly knocked her book into the fountain. She steadied it and looked up, immediately rising and dropping into a curtsey.

“Highness! I was not expecting a visit from you,” she breathed.

“I thought we’d dispensed with such courtesies, Eira,” Loki smiled as he approached. She raised her head and met his eyes, a smile spreading across her face.

“I am always careful not to assume, Loki,” she admitted.

“And my brother still has not given you leave to be so familiar yet, has he?” Loki queried. Eira blushed.

“He has not,” she acknowledged. Loki nodded wisely.

“He forgets that courtship is about familiarity, I think,” he laughed.

“Is that why you are so familiar? Am I the bone being fought for by two dogs?” Eira snorted in contempt. Loki laughed again.

“No, Eira. I learned long ago that I never win in those contests. I came to see you as one conjurer to another. I saw the result of your healing on Midgard, perhaps more clearly than anyone else could. His leg was rent, nearly completely off. It takes quite advanced magic to heal that,” Loki probed. Eira blushed again.

“I have always had the gift of healing.” She was modest.

“That is more than a gift for healing, that is wondrous and powerful magic, Eira. How did you learn?”

“I didn’t learn. I’ve always been able to, as long as I can remember. I can see inside the body, and move the elements around to repair it.”

“What other magic can you create?” He demanded. Eira shook her head.

“None. That is all I am capable of.”

“Said as though you are unaware of how powerful your gift is.” Loki looked as though he didn’t believe her. He pulled out his dagger and slashed his arm. Eira jumped up and put her hand over the wound. But she didn’t immediately heal him.

“Is this a test, Loki?” She demanded. “I cannot let you bleed to death, you are Odin’s son. But I can make you wait until you are on the brink, and weak.” She was angry at the thought he would take advantage of her.

“It is a test of a sort. I want to feel your magic. I need to know how it works,” he admitted. His blood seeped through her fingers and Eira looked at the small pool accumulating at their feet with disgust. She glared at Loki, not breaking eye contact, and concentrated on the wound in his arm, visualizing the flesh mending. She usually visualized these repairs as being painless, but she forewent that in Loki’s case, to teach him a lesson. His face twisted in pain, but he didn’t cry out. Eira took her time, ensuring there would be no trace of the wound, but it drew out the repair and Loki had a thin sheen of sweat on his brow when she finally let go of his arm.

“You could have made that hurt less,” he accused as she washed her hands in the fountain. She turned back to him with an innocent smile.

“I could have. But then what would stop you from doing this as a party trick?” She agreed. Loki looked at his arm in awe.

“I’ve never felt magic like that before.”

“You are yet young, Loki.” Eira was dismissive.

“I am not inexperienced. This is more than a gift, Eira.” Loki rubbed the spot where he’d cut himself. He looked lost and puzzled. Eira almost felt sorry for him.

“You already said that,” she laughed softly, drying her hands on her hangarok. She picked up her book and walked toward the door to the library. Loki followed, contemplating her ability.

“Why were you on Midgard?” He asked suddenly. Eira spun around, blanching at the question.

“I healed that soldier, I was-“

“Yes, you did heal him. But why were you there to begin with? The battle was over. Freya had collected her share to Folkvangr, and all that was left on the battlefield were the wounded, the dead and the Valkyries. So why where you there?” Loki cut her off. Eira turned away and started toward the library again. Loki reached out and stopped her.

“Loki –“ She started.

“I know I’ve told you we are on familiar terms, but you would do well to remember I am the son of Odin, and I will find out why you were on Midgard. Even if it means taking you to the Allfather and having him force your hand,” Loki threatened. Eira squared her jaw and wrenched her arm from his grasp.

“There are some secrets so great that even the Allfather won’t share them with you, Your Highness.” Her voice dripped with ice and Loki looked as though she had slapped him. He dropped his hand to his side and pursed his lips.

“That leaves me with only one more question for you, Eira. Does Thor know he courts a Valkyrie? He won’t be happy that you withhold your maidenhood to remain a servant to the glorious dead.” Loki crossed his arms and awaited her answer. The colour left her face.

“How-“

“You wear armour, a helm, carry a shield and spear, and rode a white horse off the battlefield. Thor may be blinded by his lust for you but I suffer no such malady. You may not look like one of the twelve, but I’ve no doubt you are numbered among them.” His eyes flashed green and Eira closed her own in response. She sighed deeply.

“And what must I do to have you keep my secret?” Her tone was flat, defeated. Loki’s mouth turned up at one corner.

“Not one thing. Continue to lead my brother on his merry chase. That is satisfaction enough for me.” Loki was notorious for his keen sense of mischief. Eira should have known it would be so simple, while still being so complex.

“How do you know I want to remain a Valkyrie?” She turned his plot back on him.

“You’re not the type to fall into bed with a prince to be rid of a responsibility, Eira.” Loki shook his head.

“No?”

“No, a commoner, maybe. Or one of the dead. But not a prince. You are not so clichéd as to look for a gilded bed.” He locked his eyes on hers as he spoke, and despite the temptation to do exactly what he said she wouldn’t, she knew he was right. The only way she would bed his brother was if they came to an agreement that involved love. And Thor did not have the air of a family man about him, still young and looking for glory and war.

“You have a way with words, Loki.” Eira’s comment was sarcastic and Loki threw back his head and laughed.

“They don’t call me Silvertongue for nothing, Eira,” he winked. “I will see myself out.” He headed through the library and turned into the hall. As soon as he’d disappeared from sight, he reappeared, holding a letter.

“I forgot the other reason I came this way. The Allfather has summoned you to court.” He handed the envelope over and turned back out the door. She listened to his footsteps diminish as he got closer to the door, and then heard his horse whiney.

Eira dropped into a comfortable chair and turned the envelope over to break the seal, only to discover it was already broken. No wonder Loki had known she’d been called to see the Allfather. She supposed he was insulted to be treated as a messenger, and the missive didn’t contain any great secrets, so she wasn’t really offended. The nature of the note was troubling though.

Eira Sigbjornsdottir,

Regardless of any other duties that may arise between time of this missive and the morrow, I must demand you make time to meet with me in the throne room after morning feast.

Odin Allfather

Eira sighed and made her way to her room to find something suitable to wear.

Eira entered the throne room and took a knee as she approached the throne. The Allfather sat, holding Gungnir in his right hand, Huginn and Munnin perched on the back of the throne. She took a deep breath, fortifying herself. Her hands were shaking. She had no real idea why she had been summoned, despite needing to be on Midgard to escort the dead from another battle the Northmen had started. She didn’t think she should be in trouble for healing the soldier on Midgard, as she hadn’t changed his destiny by healing him. She felt unsettled and troubled regardless.

“Rise, Eira, and come forward. Our conversation is not for the entire court to hear.” Odin gestured to the dais the throne was on. Eira stepped up to Odin and tried to remember to breathe. She knelt in front of him again.

“Your Majesty, I-“

“Lady Eira, calm yourself. You are not here the answer for any crime. You are here to discuss some aspects of your calling and abilities.” Odin held a hand up to quiet her.

“Oh.” Eira was surprised. Her frantic heart slowed down, and she felt her breathing coming easier.

“You fulfilled your duties as Valkyrie a few days past, did you not?” Odin asked. Eira nodded, unable to find her voice.

“And while you were on Midgard, you healed a soldier?”

“Yes, Allfather,” she croaked. Odin nodded.

“His wound had been seen by the Midgardian healers, and been passed over as too severe. They felt he would bleed to death.” Odin saw everything through Huginn and Muninn.

“His wound was not so severe, Allfather. It would have festered, and he would have died long after the battle.”

“If he were Aesir, Lady Eira, yes. Midgardians are much weaker than we are. The wound was fatal. He was destined for Valhalla.” Odin’s words were gentle, but there was a lesson in his voice. He didn’t need to say anything, but Eira could hear the unspoken words. Had she been diligent in riding with the Valkyries, she would have enough experience with offworld beings to know what wounds would kill them, and which would not. She felt her cheeks redden, and tears sprang to her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Allfather. I know that’s not enough –“ she began.

“You are headstrong, Lady Eira. You have refused to fulfill your duties. You have shirked your responsibility as a Valkyrie, one of my chosen shieldmaidens, in order to spend your time on pursuits you prefer. You were bound to make this mistake and alter the fates eventually. I should cast you out, and leave you to roam the worlds unprotected, unguided.” Odin’s words cut Eira deeply.

“I will accept whatever punishment you see fit, Allfather.” She bowed her head, and felt the tears drop from her lashes to the dais. Odin placed his hand on her shoulder.

“They are worshipping you as a goddess on Midgard.” Odin was still gentle with her, and her head snapped back up to look at him, confused.

“A goddess?” She asked, her voice louder than she had intended. Odin nodded.

“The soldier lived because you intervened. They say you are their goddess of healing.”

“I am no god, Allfather,” Eira protested.

“Lady Eira, none of us are. But many of us belong in their pantheon. And now you do as well. You are Eir, goddess of healing, and Valkyrie. Your abilities will ever be entwined, and you will never be free of either,” Odin foretold. Eira felt a shiver cross her body.

“But Allfather, when I fall in love, when I marry-“

“A loss of maidenhood is no guarantee of freedom from your bond.” Odin’s response was enigmatic. Eira took a steadying breath.

“I don’t understand.” Her words were a whisper.

“Fulfill your duties. Heal with the magic you hold, escort the dead to Valhalla. Stop questioning your purpose. You were given your gifts in order to bring you to greatness. And now you have achieved it, with one poorly timed decision. You must live with this, goddess of healing.” Odin’s mouth twisted into a wry smile, and Eira felt awash in helplessness.

“I will do as you have bidden, Allfather. You have my sacred vow,” she swore. Odin nodded.

“My son has asked me to explain my decision to call you as Valkyrie. I have given him an answer. Would you hear it now, Eira?” He offered.

“It would bring me no greater joy than to know why you called me,” she admitted.

“When you were brought before me, as a small child, with such incredible power, I saw your destiny. And like you, I sought to change what I saw. I called you because your duty to me, to the glorious dead, will save you. You may think your burden is heavy. I see the destiny of all my subjects, when I choose to look. There is no weightier burden than to see what will happen to a child,” Odin volunteered. With his admission, Eira understood why she was not cast out for changing the soldier’s destiny. Odin was as guilty as she was of altering the design of fate.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fanfic with OFC

[imagine-loki]

Loki and the Minion

TITLE: Loki and the Minion

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter-1

AUTHOR: latent-thoughts ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki hiring you as his manager while he slowly takes over Midgard again. You are to manage his PR, his daily schedule, and you also are his guide to everything Midgardian. He doesn’t make it easy for you, though. He causes trouble, doesn’t listen to your advice very often, and in general, annoys and intimidates you. He is the God of Mischief after all, and you are the nearest target available to him. You suffer through his antics because he pays well and also, you don’t know what might befall you if you refuse him. He is kinda scary after all.

RATING: T for now, will change later. NOTES/WARNINGS: None

A/N: Basically Loki being a diva, and a Disney Prince. Sort of… 

____________________

Victory… Conquest… Subjugation…

Merely words concluding the struggle between two parties in opposition. A simple enough concept, but a rather difficult accomplishment.

You win at it once, and everyone thinks you invincible. You fail at it once, and everyone takes you for granted.

This fatal flaw in the perception of the nature of war is what Loki sought to exploit.

Loki’s second attempt at taking the realm of Midgard would be his and his alone. There would be no one breathing down his neck, demanding things he had no intent to relinquish.

This time, there would be no conscious lack of conviction, there would be no loopholes for the so called heroes to slip away through.

This time… everyone would see what a cunning strategist Loki was.

This time… everyone would witness the new ruler of Midgard in new light.

But before all that could happen, Loki was certain that he needed a most important addition to his victorious contrivance this time round.

No, it wasn’t an army, for he alone was enough to take on everyone.

Loki had a mighty need—a need to be respected, to be looked upon with hope and not merely fright, to be viewed as benevolent, yet just and exacting.

He had a need for a medium that would enlighten the world about his munificence and his acumen, and he knew he’d need to acquire a new asset for this very purpose.

______________________

Managing Tony Stark’s PR was no small feat. There were events to arrange, parties to organize, not to mention, the wrangling with the media and social media.

In short, it was a daily struggle, requiring a whole team to handle it. Being a part of the said team was considered both an honor and a curse. An honor, because you got to work for a literal superhero. A curse, because it was stressful and sometimes, life threatening.

Even though she had yet to face a situation where her life was on the line, Elsa Trembley had heard enough accounts of such situations to help her mentally prepare for it. However, no amount of mental preparation works to keep one calm when things actually take a turn for the worse. She realized this harsh truth one late afternoon, when a cryptic message was received on Stark’s official mailing address.

It was a short note, written in a calligraphic handwriting on a thick, gold hued paper-

‘I come in peace, to join your cause. Receive me well and you shall be rewarded. Receive me poorly and there shall be dire consequences.’

~Loki of Asgard.

Panicked, she tried to reach Stark, but he didn’t pick up her call. She tried for Pepper Potts, and the result remained the same. Both Stark and Potts being unreachable at the same time—could mean that they were together, and busy…

There was an event coming up later in the evening, and Elsa wanted to inform Stark of the strange, threatening missive before he went off to attend it. So, she rushed straight to the upper levels of the tower, ignoring the actuality that she might be interrupting something.

“What’s all the fuss about, queen?” Stark asked as he greeted her, after hearing her screaming at Jarvis to inform him of her presence at the door to his private chambers. “Everything okay? Did someone issue death threats for me? Or is it a fake pregnancy this time?”

A groan was heard from behind him, marking the presence of Pepper Potts. So, Elsa had interrupted something…

It wasn’t a surprise, though, for Stark and Potts had been pretty much inseparable ever since the battle of New York.

Elsa shuddered. Right. The battle of New York. Loki…

Without further delay, she handed Stark the missive she had received, noting how clammy her hands had gotten.

Stark studied the message and then started chortling. “Well, I guess it’s no longer ‘too soon’ for the Loki related threats to arrive at my door.”

“You don’t think it’s from him?”

“Nope,” he said, handing the note to Potts, who was leaning against the wall just behind him. “He was taken to Asgard, remember? By none other than Thor. There’s no way in hell he is coming back. Thor told me he’d be punished, and that too, severely.”

“But, just how much do you know about these Asgardians? Enough to trust them?” Elsa asked, still unsettled by the message.

Stark shrugged, looking unfazed. “He fought against his own brother to help us out. That’s good enough for me. Besides, don’t you think it’s a bit too obvious to be from Reindeer Games? The message itself is kinda contradictory. He wants to join us but threatens us with dire consequences if we don’t let him. What a joke!”

She nodded, feeling sheepish now. She should’ve known, after all she worked in the field of PR. Anyone could’ve impersonated Loki to send this message, just to create panic. It’s basically what trolls did, well at least the modern day ones.

Hence, the whole issue was brushed aside and everyone carried on as if nothing had happened.

____________________

The city hall was the venue for the evening’s event. Stark was to be felicitated and honored as a hero. It  was officially New York’s ‘thank you’ to Stark. A bigger event was planned later, at the end of the month, to thank all of the Avengers.

By then all of them—except Thor—would be back in the city, marking an end of their three month long break. Elsa was eager to meet them. Now that they were officially recognized as a team, it was imperative that they collectively have a PR team to manage them. She was waiting for that to happen.

But first, tonight’s event had to conclude without a hitch.

She was one of the people from Stark’s team who were to ensure that nothing unseemly occurred during the felicitation. It was why she had been allowed access to the city hall much before the guests had arrived. It was an especially important event for Elsa, as it was the first time she had been given the task to lead the team in the handling of the event, PR wise.

It wasn’t her first major PR assignment, though. Before Stark, she had handled a couple of Hollywood’s upcoming stars. However, nothing compared to the intensity of handling a superhero’s PR. It was partly why she was here. She had been seeking a challenge, something which would stand out in her résumé.

When the event was finally underway, she was kind of relieved to see that everything had gone smoothly. Well, perhaps her own self congratulatory thoughts jinxed her then. Because as soon as that nebulous thought of success formed in her mind, all the lights went out.

A loud hum followed, where she could hear people giving in to panic.

“Everyone calm down, it’s just a power cut, nothing to be worried about. I’m sure it’ll be resolved,” she said, with a loud and firm voice to keep panic at bay, at least in the crowd that surrounded her.

The building had full power back up, and the present situation shouldn’t have happened. But it did. She just hoped that it didn’t amount to any sort of mischief on part of anyone.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear Tony Stark bickering with Pepper Potts about the present situation and it made her nervous. She had been given the responsibility for the present event, and now it was on the verge of getting screwed because of one stupid power back-up failure.

Elsa knew the building plan—she had checked it out before the event—and decided to check on the power back-up system herself. Quite a reckless move from someone like her, but it was essentially her event, and she needed to rescue it.

When she reached the back-up unit, she found a tall man standing in front of it, with his hands spread. She watched silently as a strange light emanated from his hands and went straight into the unit.

He must have felt her presence, because he turned around and glared at her.

Panic struck her full force then. It was Loki, the one who had wrecked New York only months ago.

Loki… was back, in New York. LOKI WAS BACK!

A string of ‘oh shit, oh shit, oh shit’ ran through her mind then, as she beheld him. For a few beats, she simply couldn’t move, frozen in shock. And when senses came back to her, the first thing she tried to do was run. Obviously.

However, as she moved to run, the heel of her shoe snagged on something on the floor and she found herself stuck. Well, it was a sacrifice worth making, she decided, as she pulled her feet from the shoes and ran barefoot.

A sinister laughter followed her down the corridor and stairs.

The lights came back on as she was in the middle of dialing Stark’s number.

When she reached the hall where the event was being held, she saw that every decoration had been turned into green and gold, including everyone’s clothes.

WHAT THE FUCK!

And then he was there, in the middle of a raised dais that she was pretty sure wasn’t there earlier. More importantly, Tony Stark was stuck to one of the columns in a weird cocoon like thing. The absence of the rest of the Avengers was sorely being felt right about now.

Everyone had thought that the planet was safe for now. How wrong were they…

“Greetings everyone. I am Loki,” the dreaded man began, in a loud, authoritative voice. “And all of you probably recognize me as the scourge of New York, among other things.”

A villainous speech… oh god, this was getting worse.

“You believe me to be a threat to your realm, however, this time I come in peace…”

He didn’t get to finish his speech. Tony Stark’s flying monkeys—his suits of armor—came flying on some sort of command from him, Elsa were certain. They started attacking Loki and nearly wrecked the whole building in the process.

Loki didn’t attack the suits. He chose to disappear instead, much to everyone’s surprise.

When everyone tried to free Tony Stark, it was found that he had been stuck to the wall by nothing else but some industrial strength taffy.

He even ended up eating some of it out of stress, once he was freed, that is.

Everyone was sent home in a hurry, while Stark went calling in all the Avengers. There was no way to call Thor, though, as he was stuck on another realm.

When Elsa reached home, barefoot and frazzled, she was shocked to find Loki waiting for her in her living room. He held her shoes in his hand while he smiled at her enigmatically.

“I believe these are yours,” he said, offering them to her.

The situation called for a Cinderella reference… that is, if Cinderella had been trying to run from a villain and lost her shoes, and was then found by the said villain because of those very shoes.

Happily ever after? Yeah, right!

The sheer terror she was feeling at present qualified it for a horror version, though.

Loki blinked at her, as if confused. “What sad ways have I to tread, to be greeted with silence for bringing you your prized possessions?”

Sarcasm was practically dripping from the tenor of his words.

What could she say in return?

“Th-Thank you…,” she stuttered, grasping at an attempt towards graciousness, “…good sir.”

Really? Good Sir?

She felt like smacking herself silly.

His smile grew into a grin then, his teeth glinting and his eyes dancing in utter delight. She briefly wondered if it was his pre-murder grin. It was kind of attractive, if not a hell lot of creepy.

“Would you come closer, mortal, for I’m not sure we can converse in a proper way, with you standing so far away.”

Oh… pre-murder fancy talk? About what exactly?

Very slowly, Elsa closed the distance he was griping about, coming to stand in front of him.

“Do sit down,” he ordered, his voice lowering to a silky purr. “We have much to discuss and the night is fading fast.”

As she sat down on one of the single seater sofas, he lowered himself on his knees. Much to her continuing astonishment, he bent forth and took her foot in his hand.

She jerked in response, as his hand was cold, and her fear was dripping down her back in the form of perspiration.

Gently, he placed her foot into the shoe, playing out the grimmer than Grim Brothers’ version of Cinderella with aplomb.

It reminded her that he was, after all, a prince. The manners of the royalty were still there, apparently.

The other shoe was placed on its rightful foot as well, marking an end of the whole Cinderella act, she assumed.

Perhaps now it was time for murder…

“You must be wondering why I am here,” he stated, rising on his feet. His already impressive height was now further emphasized, with her still seated and him standing. It made him look even more intimidating than usual.

Elsa nodded, curious, even though she still dreaded the answer that might come. “I gathered that it wasn’t just about the shoes.”

“Good, we may proceed on to it, then.” He clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a head-to-toe assessing look. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve chosen you for a very vital purpose.”

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #loki and the minion #chapter 1 #latent-thoughts #hiring #manager #midgard #takeover #guide #midgardian #easy #trouble #advice #annoys #intimidating #target #refuse #scary #antics #intimidate #dating #setbacks #leaves #personal space #push #buttons

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

Stephanie looked up over the brim of her mug at the man who stepped out of the portal.

“Loki. Right? Though not from here I think.” The woman had a gentle Irish lilt.

“Bit lost are we? Or just wreaking more havoc I’ll have to clean up?” She sets her mug down. Along with the book she was reading and adjusts her robes.

“Well? I’m a busy woman. I don’t have all day.”

@stephanie-strange

Loki sighs. He officially hates the multiverse. "Just passing through, unfortunately. It's been a long day, so kindly do not test me Miss..." He raises an eyebrow, waiting for the strange woman to fill in the gap. Clearly she knows who he is, and he hates to be at a disadvantage.

#loki of asgard #loki rp #missives from midgard #default

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

*holding something behind his back* Happy birthday, my love~

~@aaravos-answers

Aww, thank you my darling.

Now... What are you hiding?

#loki of asgard #loki rp #the snake and the star #missives from midgard #Loki's birthday

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

🍼 Fair's fair, starlight~

~@aaravos-answers

There's the sound of childish giggling, but there doesn't seem to be a particular source to be seen.

Then, removing his invisibility, a five-year-old Loki jumps in front of the elf with a grin, saying "boo!"

He pokes Aaravos with a toy knife. "Gotcha! Did I scare you?"

#loki of asgard #loki rp #the snake and the star #missives from midgard #bb loki

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

"Loki!" Mobius walks into the askbox through a timedoor. "Been looking everywhere for you. Pride month is over, Loki. It's time to come back to the TVA now." @itsmobi-us

@itsmobi-us

Hm... No. I don't think so.

Just because pride month is over doesn't mean I'm eager to go back to your bland structure of beige, heteronormativity, and fascistic order.

#loki of asgard #loki rp #missives from midgard #mobius #variant timeline

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

Loki of Asgard, I hereby crown thee Prince and/or Princess of Tumblr. Our realm is far superior to Asgard anyway. If five other residents of Tumblr ratify this coronation by liking and/or reblogging, and if you accept your crown, you will officially become Tumblr royalty. (Please accept.)

Oh yes, I far prefer my treatment here thus far to Asgard.

If you wish to give me a throne, I have no objections.

Though, you must have an extensive royal family if this is all it takes to become royalty.

Hear that, dear followers? You can crown me Tumblr royalty. Care to lend a hand?

#loki of asgard #loki rp #missives from midgard

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

📜 ~@aaravos-answers

Loki: don't worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Aaravos: I think you mean cards

Loki, pulling knives out of their sleeves: no, I do not.

#loki of asgard #the snake and the star #missives from midgard #aaravos answers #ask meme #incorrect quotes #*dies laughing* #this is so perfect #what do you mean incorrect quotes?

[loki-of-asgard-god-of-mischief]

📜

Loki: I actually have a black belt

Odin: in what, karate?

Loki: no, from Gucci

#loki of asgard #missives from midgard #ask meme #incorrect quotes #odin allfather