#she should have her own crown not Loki’s

[literaryavenger]

Broken - part 5

Summary: You and Bucky keep bonding.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Mentions of Bucky's past and nightmares. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.2K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: I decided on the ending for this story, and I have only one more chapter to go! Enjoy, the last one will probably come sometime tomorrow. Also, again, it's 4:30 am and I can't help myself lol.

Masterlist

Spending time with Cassie you couldn’t help but feel better.

The more you have fun and laugh with the little girl, the more you forget about your anger against the team.

It also helps that you spend most of the day away from them, eating lunch with Cassie and Scott, who you didn’t stay mad at for too long. To be fair to him you didn’t even know him when everything happened so you don't blame him too much.

As promised, Bucky comes looking for you as soon as he and Steve get back to the tower, finding you still on Scott's floor while you guys watch Despicable Me inside a huge blanket fort Cassie insisted on building in the middle of the floor of the living room.

Thankfully the other occupants of this floor, Bruce, Thor and Loki, are still in New Asgard. He’s just about to turn around and go back to his room when you notice him.

"Hey Bucky! Where are you going, how did it go?" he looks uncertainly at Scott and his daughter before answering.

"I was just gonna…" he trails off, pointing behind him towards the elevator.

"Nonsense, come here." you tell him, patting the seat next to you in the fort.

He’s a little hesitant, but slowly comes further into the room, sitting on the ground, leaving a little space between you.

You give him a smile that he shyly returns before you hear a little voice clearing her throat, which brings your attention to the little girl on your right. "Yes, Princess Cassie?"

"And who would this be, Queen Y/N?" Bucky’s a little confused by the interaction, but says nothing.

"This is Bucky. What title would you like to give him?" Cassie thinks about it for a second while staring very intently at Bucky, narrowing her eyes at him, and you can’t hide your amusement.

That is, until Cassie suddenly lands on a role for Bucky.

"He should be the King!" she says, looking from him to you a couple of times "You guys look good together." you’re about to say something, when Scott beats you to the punch.

"She’s right, I can see it." he says putting his hands up and looking through them to frame you and Bucky together, clearly much more amused than you are at the situation.

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape this. "Well, what Princess Cassie says goes. I’m sorry, King Bucky, you’re stuck with me now."

You turn to Bucky who's still very confused, and is now also starting to turn slightly pink, so you decide to explain.

"We’re playing make believe. Cassie is the Princess, Scott is the Jester and I’m the Queen. I’m sorry to inform you you’ve been crowned King of the castle." you gesture to the fort with your hands.

"And also Y/N’s husband!" Cassie feel the need to shout, making your head snap to her with wide eyes while Bucky turns even redder, your own face starting to change color now.

"He gets it, Princess." you try not to snap at her, she’s just a kid and doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s still pretty embarrassing.

You see Scott snickering behind Cassie and glare at him as much as you can trying to go unnoticed by her, but Cassie's attention is on the super soldier now.

"You're going to play with us, right?" she asks him in a  sweet voice, making the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen. She certainly knows what she's doing.

Bucky, who hasn't said anything until now, doesn't know what to do. He looks at you for help and you give him an encouraging smile.

He then looked at Scott, worried that the man might want Bucky anywhere near his daughter, but Scott simply nods his head with a smile.

Bucky relaxes a bit and turned his attention back to the little girl, trying to find the right thing to say.

"Of course I'll play with you. After all, the Princess’ word is law." Cassie starts giggling at the bow he gives her, and you're almost giddy at seeing this side of Bucky, more relaxed than he's been since he got here.

Granted, it was just a couple of days ago, but he seems to be making a lot of progress really fast, so far, just like Steve said after he hugged you yesterday morning.

You keep watching the movie, then the second one and you get halfway through the third when Maggie comes by to pick up Cassie.

So, with the promise not to finish the movie without her, you and Bucky say goodbye to all three and make your way to your shared floor.

"You were right, she really is adorable." Bucky says with a smile as you get into the elevator.

"I know, it’s pretty hard to stay mad at Scott when he lets me hang out with her." you smile back at him. "So, how did your meeting go?"

You see Bucky tense and feel a little bad. You really didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but you were genuinely curious and also wanted to support him. After all you know having a hearing isn’t certainly gonna be easy.

"I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to." You quickly reassure him and he seems to relax and gives you a nod.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let it go. But Bucky had a question himself.

"Why are you ignoring everyone but me?" you sigh.

You don't blame him for being curious, you yourself are as nosy as they come. Always in a respectful manner, of course.

"I’m mad at them." You simply say. "They selfishly kept a pretty big thing from me. They made me feel bad, knowing they were lying to me. They’re my family, they should trust me more than this. I’ll get over it, eventually, but for now I’m happy avoiding everybody." you shrug. You know it’s kind of childish, but you also don’t care.

"Okay, I understand that… But why are you not avoiding me?" Now you’re confused.

"Why would I avoid you?" he bows his head in shame, not meeting your eyes as you exit the elevator and you already know you’re not going to like his answer.

"I’m the reason it all happened in the first place… it’s all my fault." You can feel the sadness in his voice, you can see he actually feels bad about causing this.

You, on the other hand, don't agree.

"Bucky," you start, stopping right in front of him, forcing him to stop too, looking up and quickly putting his hands on your arms to make sure you don't fall after almost colliding with you. "you can’t blame yourself for other people’s choices. Steve chose to help you, Tony chose to fight it, everybody else chose a side. None of it was on you. You didn’t ask anybody to do anything. So, please, stop feeling guilty."

Bucky looks at you silently for a few moments and you feel like he's searching your face for any hint that you might be lying, that you don't really believe what you were saying.

But he doesn't to find any so he nods and says "I’ll try." with his hands still on your arms and it's like you're suddenly registering just how close he is and how warm his touch is on your skin.

He’s about to say something else, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky drops his hands from you like they burned and you turn around, almost feeling like you got caught doing something wrong when you see Steve and Sam just standing there looking at you two.

Steve has that stupid grin on his face that he doesn’t seem to be able to wipe every time he sees you and Bucky together, but Sam looks more concerned than anything.

"Everything okay here?" he says and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his insinuation that something might be wrong just because you’re alone with Bucky.

You turn back to the brunette super soldier and smile at him "I’m gonna go to my room, I still have some reports to finish. See you later?"

You wait until he nods and then get on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek like this morning, smiling a little more when you back away and see a little pink hue coming back to his face, but with a smile nonetheless.

You turn around and pass the other two men without saying a word, hearing them sigh behind you as you walk away towards your room.

Maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but you don’t feel like forgiving anybody else just yet.

So that’s how you find yourself spending more and more time with Bucky.

It feels like you spent all your free time with each other, only being apart at night and when Bucky joins the team for dinner.

He tried to get out of it multiple times to join you when you would eat in the kitchen of your floor, but Steve insists that it would be better for him to be around the team, even if just for an hour a day, and you fully agree.

That, however, doesn’t stop him from joining you afterwards just so you won't have to eat alone, for which you're grateful.

Initially Bucky's pretty content just following you around like a lost puppy, a fact that Sam and Steve never fail to mention as it amuses them to no end.

But Bucky doesn't care, and neither do you as you enjoy each other’s presence, even in silence.

Bucky likes watching you go about your day, still amazed by everything you do and you like having him near you. It makes you feel safe.

Still, the more time you spent together, the more comfortable he feels around you.

The real turning point comes when one night you open your door to find a disheveled looking Bucky, and you know immediately that him knocking at your door at 3 am meant nothing good.

Which is confirmed when he sniffles and you realize he has tears streaming down his face.

Without saying anything you hold out your hand, which he instantly takes as he lets you guide him inside, shutting the door behind him.

You walk to the bed and sit down, hand still in his and, when he just stands there you tug on it, silently letting him know that it's okay for him to join you.

You expect him to sit next to you as he’s done countless times now while leaving a respectful space between you, always the gentleman.

What you didn’t expect is him crawling into your bed, taking you to lay down with him, and hugging you as tightly as he can without hurting you, his legs also wrapping around yours.

To say you're shocked right now is an understatement. You always made a point to keep physical touch to a minimum when it comes to Bucky, not wanting to do anything to make him uncomfortable.

But here he is, clinging to you like a scared little kid, crying his eyes out with his head buried in the crook your neck.

You wrap your arms around his shaking body, hugging him as tight as he is, rubbing his back to try and soothe him, whispering what you hope are words of encouragement in his ear. 

You stay like that for a while until he finally calms down and stops crying.

You don’t rush him to let go or to talk about it, letting him decide if and when he's ready to talk at all.

After a few minutes of total silence you think the poor guy cried himself to sleep, but he proves you wrong by moving his head away from your neck and placing it on your chest.

You feel him play with your necklace as he starts talking with a quiet voice that reminds you of the first day you met him. "I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t want to be alone and had nowhere else to go." and your heart breaks for him.

"Don’t apologize, Buck. You can always come to me, it doesn’t matter what time it is."

He looks up, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him, and seems like he's about to say something else but thinks better of it, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

He settles for giving you a gentle squeeze and moving his head back to lay on you, but you don't need words to know he's grateful for your understanding.

He's seemingly unashamed of the way he's still clinging to you and you’d be lying if you said you mind being so close to him either.

You start running your hand through his hair, which he seems to appreciate, and, after a few more minutes of silence, he starts speaking again.

He tells you about the nightmares he’s been having ever since he escaped Hydra, and that tonight, after a particularly gruesome one, he just couldn’t stand being alone.

He doesn't go into too much detail about the dream but tells you enough for you to want to take a few firearms and track down every single person connected to Hydra so you can put as many bullets in them as you can carry, then light them on fire for good measure.

But, Bucky being your first priority, you stay where you are and try your best to comfort him, eventually changing the subject to keep his mind off the nightmare.

You talk until the sun comes up, birds chirping, but neither of you make a move to get up at any point, eventually falling asleep for a couple of hours in each other’s arms.

Part 6

Taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes @ordelixx

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x platonic!reader

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Twisted Love pt 5

Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, language, anxiety, panic attacks, if I forgot anything please let me know!

Summary: Loki Leaves for the hunt and your left to your own devices.

A.N Sorry it’s been so long loves!! The writers block was hitting hard but the Loki show revived me lol, hope you enjoy this chapter!

"No your highness, you should wear this. It's tradition after all"

You glanced over to the wardrobe where Adessa held out a silky dress of emerald.

"Tradition to wear green?" You tilted your head.

She smiled nodding her head, "No, not quite, but it is tradition to wear your husbands colors on the days of the hunt" she pulled you towards the screen and slid the fabric to you. Knowing you liked privacy.

“Oh I see" for some reason that made you feel a bit embarrassed but you slid off your sleep clothes and complied anyway.

Luckily last night your exhaustion won over so you didn't lie nervously overthinking from Loki being so close for too long.

Although you had been anxious, you actually didn't hate that he slept next to you. It was sort of nice to not sleep alone.

You stepped out and Adessa nodded approvingly. "Now for the finishing touches, she pulled you towards a small chest on the ground and pulled out a few golden accessories.

"There, now there's just one more thing..." she shuffled in the chest some more and her hands pulled out a small dainty golden headpiece that had two protruding horns.

"Adessa do I have to wear that...?" You eyed the crown carefully. It wasn't that you didn't like the headpiece. Quite opposite actually because the piece shimmered gorgeously and you loved how the design was subtle and elegant all at once. The problem however was that is was a version of Lokis own Horn crown and for some reason that made you shy.

"Yes you do, it's the law" you gave a her a look.

"Ok so it's not the law but still, you'll look lovely with it on and his majesty won't be able to resist."

That doesn't make me feel any better...

Reluctantly you nodded, knowing she wouldn't give up any time soon.

"Alright now you're ready, let's go!" she pushed you excitedly out of the tent before you could even mentally prepare yourselves.

The guards at the entrance bowed slightly when you appeared then proceeded to escort you.

You eyed Adessa nervously.

"Don't worry, we are just going to see off the hunting parties" she whispered then fell into step behind you. You nodded and tried not to shrink away when you saw people stop to look at you.

You knew that everything, even you being escorted was all part of the big show.

Even the trail you walked was lined with petals.

Ok this was nearing on being ridiculous now...

"This way your highness" one of the guards motioned to an open area where you could see in the distance Loki, Thor and the rest of the royal family. They were all clad in lavish armor, in their respective colors.

You gulped when you neared closer and gained their attention.

"Her royal highness" the guards stepped aside and left you exposed.

With a shaky smile you bowed and walked closer. Frigga was the first to greet you.

“My dear you look absolutely lovely” she pulled you to stand next to her which you were grateful of.

You bowed your head slightly to the all father, and Thor and when your eyes met Loki you sucked in a breathe. His eyes were not on you but rather roaming from bottom to top.

Perhaps you should have fought Adessa harder, did he think this was too much?

When he did finally look up he averted his gaze quickly and you felt you had upset him somehow.

"Loki doesn't she look absolutely stunning" you flushed at her sudden teasing. Frigga why...

You hesitantly looked to him awaiting his answer,

he cleared his throat, "Yes she does" although he was basically forced to say it it still made you fluttery and nervous all the same.

"Now then let's not waste another moment" Odin suddenly announced stepping in front of everyone.

"Good luck my dears” Frigga gave her sons a nod then turned to you with an encouraging nod.

“G-good Luck Loki” you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach, had his name always sounded so smooth on your tongue?

He gave you a small nod then turned around with the others and made their way out of the camp.

“Now how about some breakfast?” The Queen smiled and offered her arm.

“That sounds lovely” you followed her through the makeshift camp, eyes leaving Lokis disappearing figure reluctantly.

**********************************************

“My Lady I wonder if I might ask a favor of you…”

You perked up from your laying position under the shade of a beautiful bay lily tree.

“Of course, what is it?” You eyed the slightly blushing girl curiously.

“Well um you see, this camp is close to an old dear friends place of mine and well I’d hate to miss the opportunity to see her while I’m here um…would it be alright if I took the next few hours off? Of course I’ll have someone look after you in my stead!”

A smirk formed on your lips. “Well of course, we can’t keep your dear “friend” waiting now can we?”

“Here” you handed her the thick cloak that lay at your side. “It’s been getting colder I’ve noticed, oh and don’t worry about getting back to me too soon, enjoy your time, take tomorrow off as well if you wish, I’ll be just fine here on my own.” You smiled encouragingly. Honestly you felt a little uneasy at the thought of not having her nearby but you could tell she needed a break. Preparations for the hunt have been running everyone ragged.

She practically jumped on you with joy,” Oh my Sweet benevolent gracious Lady! You are truly a gem among rocks!!”

“Alright alright, you’d best save that sweet talk for your friend hm?” You jutted your head towards the camp entrance.

“Now go on before it gets dark, and I mean it about not rushing back, I don’t want you walking back at night, it’s not safe. Come back during daylight tommorow ok?”

“Ok mother will do, I’ll alert one of the maids so they can-“

“N-no that’s not necessary, I’ll be ok on my own”

“But how could I possibly leave you with no one to assist you?”

“Honestly I’ll be alright, I’m just going to be laying here reading anyway. And I am more than capable of dressing myself for bed.”

She looked like she wanted to protest but you playfully pushed her along and she reluctantly agreed. “Well alright… but if you need anything ask for Felice, she’s very sweet and keeps her nose where it belongs.

“Alright, I will, have fun”

“Oh I will my Lady, don’t you worry” she winked before practically sprinting out the camp.

You laughed quietly after her, the sun was still high in the sky and everyone seemed to have something to do but you. Sighing you threw your book aside and decided to stretch your legs.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mathis and some other guards helping unload crates off a carriage.

Frowning you spun the other direction away from him and began walking mindlessly.

It was amazing how this area was once just forest and now it looked like a mini city.

Luckily everyone was occupied so no guards followed you. One thing you took for granted in your old life was freedom of well… freedom.

In the palace you didn’t leave your room that often and when you did a guard was beside you wherever you went.

You quickened your steps until you reached the outskirts of the camp. There was practically no one there and you felt you could finally relax, truly relax.

Your eyes scanned the forest line, dozens of tall beautiful trees lined the area. Valheim didn’t have beautiful foliage like this, or maybe it did, it’s not like you really had a chance to go on vacation.

You spent several moments standing there breathing in the crisp air.

Your thoughts traveled to Loki and wondered how he was faring. In all your time together you’d only seen him composed and elegant, you couldn’t exactly picture him covered in blood and taking down a wolf. Or perhaps he’d opt for a bow instead of his golden blades.

The area was too peaceful to leave so soon so you decided to explore a bit more. You followed a small opening between two trees that formed a natural trail.

You kicked off your shoes and sighed happily feeling the soft grass caress your feet.

You started to pick flowers along the way, maybe you’d bring a bundle back for Frigga. Or maybe that would seem not proper? Picking wildflowers like common folk. Oh well you’d pick them anyway and decide later since they were so pretty.

Maybe you’d make perfume for yourself out of them…

Before you knew it you had a picked enough flowers to fill a shop, your dress wrappings conveniently formed the perfect basket.

The dimming of the sky caught your attention.

Perhaps you should be getting back before anyone worries about your absence.

You are just about to turn back when a sudden howl has you frozen to the spot.

****************************

Next Taglist

Ok so a bit of a short chapter but I’ve already begun writing the next one! Please let me know what you think:)

@oceanmermaidwitch

@sophiaedits

@anda-the-valkyrie

@daddylokisqueen

@anemois-hiraeth

@movielover2002

@ibuki-as-president

@someonesleftshoe

@sin-bin-kin

@sara–ravenclaw

@fuzzyphantomsandwich-blog

@the-professor-of-gallifrey

@spike-meowsters

@gasstationfifacard

@katrinakennedy1

@useless-snail

@not-anotha-loki-fanart-acc

@crimson25

@huntress-artemiss

@ilovefanfictions

@christineblood

@prpertyofnoone

@hatsparkle

@loveisfolklore

@mari-styles14

@y-napotat

@pietromaximoffsbabe

@fuzzyphantomsandwich

@shikamaruscumrag

@blueheartofrainbow

@mydogsteppedonabee

@n0sl33pc1u8

@daintinessiskey

@ajeff855

@yougottalovefandoms

@riot-sounds

@thenerdyoldersister

@shadowluna25

@janeaustenlover

@deepdinosaurwizard

@flightlexsbird

@legendarygalaxytheorist

@esoltis280

#loki #loki x reader wife #loki x reader #marvel #loki of asgard #loki fic #fluff #twisted love #part 5 #forced marriage #loki x reader arranged marriage #arranged marriage #loki fluff #smut #Thor #anxiety #injury #loki fanfic #loki series #Loki marvel #slow burn

[redrydersrequiem]

The Raven and the vampire

Chapter 1

This is a twilight and marvel mashup, the daughter of loki finds her soulmate in jasper Cullen and the twists and turns it will take them both

Note this is my first fanfic ever please be nice. I’m trying I constantly reread and change/fix these. As of 1/25/24 i've redone this story it is no longer a reader insert. I want to thank everyone who liked the original and hope you like the updated version more, this was my first ever fic and i've slowly grown as a writer so everyone enjoy

It begins like every other day on Asgard, sunny and golden, gilded with light, as the sounds of a baby’s wails break the silence of the healing wing. Loki paces back and forth, waiting to be with his wife and newborn. The doors swing open and an attendant comes forward.

“You may enter your highness, your wife and child are all cleaned up and waiting for you”. Brushing past the attendant, Loki heads straight for the figure sitting up against the backboard of the green silk bed.

“My darling, how are you? How do you feel? Do you need anything? Are you hung/…’..

“/Loki, calm down. I'm perfectly fine. A little tired but it was all worth it to finally meet our daughter.”

“it’s a girl”

“Yes ,my son , she is a beautiful baby princess and here she is ready to meet her parents .”

Walking to the new parents with a bundle of green and gold cloth in her hands, Frigga handed the new princess to her mother. The baby was a light blue theraise markings prominent on her body, tuffs of deep black hair crowned her head Asher scarlet eyes opened to take in her parents. Lady Sigyn didn't even pause at the baby’s coloring, long since having broken Loki of thinking himself a monster due to his heritage

“She is half Jotun like we expected but her body should adjust to the environment soon just as her father did” queen Frigga states noticing her son had yet to say anything. Loki just stared at his daughter's small form resting in his beloved's arms, slowly offering his finger to the babygirl. Skin turning blue as the bay gripped it in her small hands

“She’s beautiful”,

“Yes, she is! oh Loki look,”

The new parents watched as scarlet eyes gave way to white with beautiful amethyst irises, skin turning a beautiful pale like her fathers with a dashing of freckles like her mother

“She looks just like you, my prince, beautiful dark hair and all.”

“She looks. Like the both of us, a perfect blend. My little Raven, Elara frigga Lokidottir Princess of Asgard.”

800 years have passed and the young princess has grown into a young woman of grace and beauty. A mage like her father and grandmother before her, and warrior in her own right. I mean, how could she not? With private training form an actual Valkyrie, and the literal goddess of war and god of thunder (god of sparkles lol) as her aunt and uncle. In all her time though, she has grown up around love,seeing it in her parents' faces as they look at one another. In her baby brother's eyes as they babble up at her, Her grandparents and uncle and so many others, that she was ready to find it herself.

“Mother, father, I've done it.” Elara omimites as she bursts into her parents sitting room. Sigyn was sitting on the floor with the twins as they had tummy time while Loki was next to her legs crossed at the ankle reading a book to the two of them.

`What is that my little raven?”

“ Father, I've completed the spell to find my soulmate.”

“Soulmate? Spell? Darling what are you talking about, you're still so young you shouldn’t have to be so worried about that.”

“Mother you and father were only 200 years older than me when you both finally married and much younger than that the first time you met and started cavorting with each other. Besides, I'm ready. I want to have what all of you have, especially before I'm used as a pawn to help diplomatic affairs, I want to find my other half.”

“My little raven, we would never allow the allfather or anyone else to use you as a pawn. Besides i second your thoughts”.

“Loki why am i not surprised you are some howenvloved with our daughter trying to leave

“Dear, it will all be fine trust me I would do nothing that would harm our little raven” he kisses his wife soothing her while gesturing to elara to carry on with her proclamation ,

“go ahead love tell us what you’ve discovered”

“ Mother?” Sigyn pinches her mouth looking between her mischievous husband and equally energetic eldest

“Fine, I will go along with you and your fathers plans but i wish to be there when the spell is cast and part of the travel discussions”

“Absolutely mother, I can do the spell now, i just need the maps of the realms”

Loki summons all the maps he's collected over the years including a globe of earth and sets them up for his daughter, when a thought finally occurs to him.

“Odin forbid this adventure, send you to Midgard.”

“Loki we will be supportive of whoever it ends up being and wherever it ends up taking her. Besides, if you didn’t want her to go away, you shouldn’t have helped her make the spell to begin with.”

“Your words cut deep my love. I simply hoped for her future match to be here in Asgard.”

“Of course you did, dear. Now sweetie, let's proceed with this event.”

The maps of the realms litter the giant green carpet. In front of you, setting the small golden bowl of which to concoct the spell in the middle of th wide green rugs.”

“So I modified a spell to find a lost item and a spell to show your hearts desire, combining the two with a very complicated magic circle I should be able to find my soulmate”,

“Very impressive little raven”

“Thank you father ok lets start. The purple magic flows from your fingers towards the bowl containing the two simple spells ingredients while your power spreads out forming the magic circle. As soon as it's complete a bright pulsing light shoots up. Dancing around Elara several times before shooting over to the maps.

“It's working!” Sigyn happily. Awes watching her daughter work.

Pulsing around the realms maps the light simply hoovers before shooting for the Midgardian globe encasing it insistently

“Oh joy of course my daughters soulmate is a Midgardian”

“Honestly, I think it serves you right Loki”, Sigyn states picking at her husband and his distaste for midgardians “but you don’t even know who or what this midgarden is. Who knows, they could be gifted like our dear Wanda”

“Yes my darling” Loki says as he collapses on the nearest couch.

“Well go on my little raven, let's see where in Midgard you will be visiting”

Walking over to the globe, Elara peers over to what small words have now been illuminated.

“It’s a place called….. Forks, Washington.”

#twilight fanfiction #jasper hale x y/n #twilight masterlist #the twilight saga #twilight x reader #last twlight the series #twilight x y/n #twilight #jasper cullen x you #jasper hale x you #jasper cullen #jasper hale x reader #lokis daughter #Loki x sigyn #uncle Thor

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: crimson threads

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Before the main story; 1st part is weeks after 'outfits & portraits'; 2nd part is during 'no formalities needed'

Summary: Your grandmother Queen Frigga explains to you that fated souls and crimson threads are not quite the work of fiction you assumed they were

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); probably an inaccurate depiction of the 'red string' theory; slight mentions of death if you squint [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: this whole chapter is in Frigga's POV

The sun was nearing its highest point, casting a brilliant wash of light over Queen Frigga's workroom  as she read the latest correspondence from her son Loki that arrived earlier this morning over breakfast. The words written on the parchment brought a smile to her face, knowing that soon her family would be complete once more.

I believe it is almost safe to say that my assignment to gather the consensus on Odin's rule is nearing completion. I will be returning to Asgard soon. At most in a few decades.

His wording when referring to Asgard was truthfully to be expected, but it still smarted at the queen's heart that he still did not refer to the realm as his home. Instead he referred to it in such an impersonal manner, as if the place held no sentimental value to him.

It did occur to her that perhaps the place he would call 'home' would be wherever he would begin to build one with the person he would eventually decide to marry, but that line of thinking left the queen awash with melancholia as well. Never once in his letters to her did he mention meeting anyone that he could see a future with. He never mentioned meeting anyone at all.

Then again, perhaps he truly was thinking of his future in mind and this was simply a conscious decision to ensure he did not leave anyone behind on the chance that he lost during his inevitable duel with Thor to determine Odin's heir. The mere thought of the barbaric tradition left a bitter taste in Frigga's mouth, guilt flooding her system when she was quickly reminded of the reason why her husband had agreed to taking on this tradition in the first place.

So that they could marry.

The sound of a soft knock at the doors to her workroom brought the queen out of her reverie, a smile quickly finding its way to her face as you walked in, stretching her arms out to embrace you as you approached. "Granddaughter, how wonderful to see you've returned from your trip to Midgard. I trust all your properties are in order?"

"Everything is at it should be, Grandmother. The structures are flourishing, the tenants are living comfortably, employees seem to all be perfectly content. I should have a good bit of money converted to gold coins here in a few months," you answered with an exhilaration in your tone. You cleared your throat before you spoke again, "Actually, Grandmother, I'd come to visit you to ask something as a favor to Narda. About…crimson threads."

Frigga's ears perked up at the term. You'd never expressed curiosity with the subject of fated souls before; however, she'd always been curious about your bond in particular. Since you were born, she glimpsed your thread occasionally since you were a few decades old just to see if yours had any smatterings of crimson in them, the indicator that although a bond had not been formed between two souls yet, they had already encountered each other in passing.

But yours always remained the same: gray with a ring of blue surrounding it.

An indicator that you'd never encountered your fated, and that the soul you were tethered to was not in the same realm at that moment.

It did make sense, though, that your curiosity was not for your own thread, but for that of your friend's. In your centuries-long existence, a certainty that any soul could see was that you were willing to go through insurmountable lengths for your friends and the ones you loved most dear. "Ask away, dear Y/N." She motioned around the workroom to invite you to sit wherever you wished.

You picked the seat fashioned similar to a throne in Midgard, with a high back and an emerald velvet quilted cushion, as you always did when you visited her in this room. The same seat that Loki always picked when he used to visit, back when he still mainly resided in Asgard.

"Narda said she met with a seer in Vanaheim who told her that her thread was crimson. I wished not to disparage her by voicing my conviction that this seer was most likely telling her what she wished to hear so that she in turn would pay this seer an absurd amount of coin for her services, especially since I myself am convinced that crimson threads and fated souls are a mere fiction. But it did spark a curiosity in me that had me promising her that if the threads were real, I would ask you if hers truly was crimson. And now I'm here. So please do tell me, Grandmother…are they real?"

You whispered the question in a tone filled with anticipated awe that reminded her much of your father when he was in his youth and she would tell him grand stories about what he would expect to see when he began to travel the realms one day.

The queen nodded her answer at you, earning her a look of wondrous curiosity sparkling in your eyes. "They are quite real, Granddaughter. However most do not turn crimson. Even throughout the course of their lives. Only the truly fortunate ones have a thread that glows crimson, showing that the bond shared between the two souls is unbreakable. Others have a plain crimson…and the rest…only have spots of crimson."

"Spots? Well what do the spots mean?"

"It means that throughout their lives, they have encountered the soul they were fated to. Perhaps crossed paths, even possibly shared a conversation. But for some hindrance or other, the bond between them never had the chance to form, let alone strengthen. They did not stay in the other's life long enough for that chance to form so their threads remained gray with the rare spot of crimson. One for every encounter."

"Are there other colors?" you queried, concern lacing your voice, and perhaps a touch of fear. "I'm recalling past conversations, some merely overheard. What…what do the black threads mean?"

Frigga walked over to you to take your hands in hers, giving you a reassuring squeeze, silently telling you that you had nothing to fear. "Dear child, black threads mean that the fated soul has passed without ever having been granted the chance to form their bond. White means they passed with the bond fully formed." The worry became so evident on your face as a vein began to pulsate by your temple. "Some threads may have a ring of blue surrounding it," she continued. "That means your fated soul is within another realm."

"And what is Narda's color?"

A smile began to grace the queen's features as she recalled seeing her lady in waiting's thread a mere few years ago. "Her thread is crimson, Granddaughter. And it leads to someone else we are both quite familiar with." Your eyes lit up as you awaited the name. "Fandral."

You let out a loud squeal and completely forgot your composure as you sat back into the chair and began to clap your hands in glee. "I knew it! I knew it would always be them in the end!" You took a breath to recompose yourself, sitting with your back straight once more. "May I ask what my thread's color is?"

She noted how your voice wavered as you asked your question, the fear evident in your voice most likely coming from the off chance that she would tell you that your thread was black. The queen cast a quick spell over you, waving a hand in front of your heart to see if it had changed since the last time she checked.

"Grandmother, your eyes are growing wide," you stated in alarm. "It's black, isn't it?"

Your restless tone quickly snapped Frigga out of her own gleeful thoughts, quick to reassure you. "It's not black, darling Granddaughter. Your thread is gray, with a ring of blue."

"My fated is in another realm? How disheartening…" you trailed off, a pout forming on your lips and reminding the queen even more of your father Thor.

"There is also a spot of crimson. And if my eyes are not deceiving me, there seems to be a faint glow to it as well." A look of astoundment colored your features as the corners of your mouth began to pull back in a slight smile. "Dear child, if you are ever fortunate enough to meet your fated soul again, and you have the fortuity to build a life together, your bond may very well be something matched only by the myths that children's bedtime stories are made of."

Your eyes began to dart around the room, as if looking for a distraction, ultimately landing on the parchment placed face up on the desk that housed her supplies and equipment for various potions. You tilted your head toward the letter. "Pristine penmanship. Royalty? From another realm? Are we to expect visitors soon?"

"Not quite, my dear. Royalty, yes. Very much so. Your father's brother. Seems his near millennia-long mission is soon to reach its conclusion." The queen's brows furrowed as she recalled Loki's own thread. "Perhaps you could speak with him about his case with his thread as well. Before he left Asgard I checked one final time and I couldn't find one. Seemed it didn't exist."

"Well perhaps the thread did not exist yet because the soul itself did not yet exist," you surmised, your words murmured as if you were simply thinking aloud. "That would be quite the glaring gap in age. At least a millennia and a half? Midgardians raise quite the ruckus over gaps in the single digits, imagine their uproar when it's four," you chuckled.

Your jesting words set off a worry with the queen. What if perhaps you were accurate in your lighthearted wonderings and Loki's fated truly was someone who was yet to be born? Or Norns help her, perhaps only in their youth at this moment? Potentially centuries away from being fully grown?

Knowing him, he'd be beside himself in mortification. Unwilling to even entertain the thought of forming the bond even centuries after the poor soul had become a woman or man grown.

A few decades later

The sound of palace guards hurriedly stomping down the corridor outside of her workroom immediately had Frigga on her feet, marching out of the room to see what the cause of the commotion was.

She put her hand up to stop one of the approaching soldiers. "What has you all in a rush to the gates?"

"The Princess Y/N, your Majesty," he answered quickly, his words rushed and frantic. "In pursuit of an assailant."

Those words got her to start marching toward the gates of the palace along with the rest of them, wondering what had you moving with such an urgency that you decided to lead the pursuit instead of overseeing that the guards fulfilled the task. When they reached you, you'd already crossed the threshold of the gates, two guards flanking the assailant, the vaguely familiar nobleman on his knees as you held a blade that was not your own to his throat.

"What is happening here?" she called out as she assessed the scene before her. A faint chill washed over her as you looked over to her. "Y/N, my darling grandchild, what has caused a rage I've only seen before in my son's eyes to burn in yours?"

It had been centuries since she'd seen echoes of Loki in your character, and it had been fleeting glimpses that echoed his lighthearted, mischievous nature. Not his rage. Norns have mercy on Asgard had he been around during your youth; he would have undoubtedly taught you to harness it, to hone it and wield it like a weapon.

"An attempt was made on the life of the prince," you explained, the livid tone in your words an eerie echo of your mother…and perhaps Odin as well. "He launched his blade into the dining hall and almost hit his target had I not--"

"You bleed, Granddaughter," the queen gasped, eyeing the glaring crimson spot just above your chest that painted to her a clear picture of the remainder of your statement. Had I not stepped in the blade's trajectory. A rage of her own began to simmer as she looked at the apprehended assailant, who looked upon you with unbridled fear in his eyes. "This man made an attempt on your father's life?"

"No. He didn't," you stated, lowering the blade you held and turning your gaze to the balcony, her eyes widening when she saw the crimson coloring your skin morph into your soul's thread. A glowing crimson thread. "He made an attempt on Loki's."

Frigga brought her gaze to the balcony to look at her son, the glowing crimson leading to his own thread that hadn't existed before. And before he turned his gaze to greet her, she caught a glimpse of how he gazed upon you that had a pit quickly forming in her stomach. A look of fondness that was tinged with a desire he was fighting to contain.

It seemed you'd been correct in your notion from decades ago. Loki's thread did not exist for over a millennia, even until before he left for his near-millennia long mission across the Nine Realms…

Because you did not exist yet.

A/N: I mean of course Frigga always knew 🥴✌️ I finally have my planned companion pieces finished…only thing is I want to write something now where dear little Princess Y/N finds out about her crimson thread but that's for another time 👀

For now…it's time to start Season 1B! (and also some more requests from the 500 follower celebration batch…and also some stories that a good few besties know about bc i pitched the ideas on Discord) 😳

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017

Loki taglist:  @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @cheekyscamp @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes

[thot-son-of-odin]

MCU Frigga is so overrated 🤢🤢 people really think that it's only Odin who was Loki's and Thor's parent and only he was there while they were growing up. What the fuck Frigga did then? Just stood there? 'oh but she loves and cares so much about loki?' why did she lie to him all his life? like stfu and what about her biological child, her own flesh Thor? She annoys me so freaking much like honestly. Especially in Endgame with her eat salad thing what the actual clownery yikes.

Frigga is often seen as this saintly good parent when in reality she’s not really a good parent, she’s just the “safe” parent (for Loki). I think for him, she presents an environment where she seems to genuinely care for his interests, so he separates her from any possible abuse because “look how much she loves me”. She’s absolved of any wrongdoing because of that.

In Thor’s case however, I don’t think he ever saw her as a “safe” parent. They don’t seem to interact much and even when they do, it feels like Frigga doesn’t really understand what he’s going thru (the endgame dialogue really shows how much she doesn’t realize what Thor is actually saying). I think to him, Frigga is this distant parent who will give him physical affection at times.

I have this hc that frigga cares very much about appearances, and has been fat shaming Thor his entire life. She, like Odin, keeps remind Thor that he is the crown prince and cannot be like everyone else - he has to be better. Which doesn’t just apply to his abilities and character, it also comes down to his looks. Thor is hyperaware of his own body because of how much he thinks it doesn’t belong to him. He has to be perfect everywhere.

Altho I will say, I’m not sure if you meant it to come off this way, but frigga shouldn’t care more for Thor because he’s her biological child. Loki is just as much her child and both of them should have gotten better parents.

#thor #loki #thor and loki #thor and trauma #thor meta #thor cannons

[bubbleteycosplay]

What if Sigyn's stories

Part 26

So many different universes, so many different possibilities. And in some loves Sigyn and their different stories. Pictures and brief information have been written about some of these possibilities.But what is her full story, we don't know. But we can spin them further in our thoughts ^^

The whole project here serves to show the possibilities and potential that Sigyn would have had within the Marvel Universe. How she could have been reintroduced, her story made new and more exciting. #JusticeForSigyn stands for creating Sigyn content because Marvel doesn't give us any.

Inspired by @fauna-and-mythos @dailylogyn @dank-art @jonquilclegane @sigynthevictorious @thewitchysystem @shenanigans-and-imagines @sigynoffidelity @timeladyjamie @therese-lokidottir @puckwritesstuff @sigynappreciation @sigyn-obsessed @ellecaterina @roruna @sigyndottir @marvelentertainment @mistress-of-words

My Queen

Treason. Destruction. Truth.

He says you can only get up when you've reached the bottom.

Only when you are completely broken can you rise again.

I don't know if there's anything left that can be broken.

I'm running out of time. The enemies are getting closer and closer to me from all directions.

But this time I won't be alone.

A brother swore to protect me. The other person emphasized how much he hates me.

And yet they both want me.

But something dark is unfolding inside me.

A horrific event forces its way into my consciousness.

And even if the situation between us changes, it is these memories that could doom us all.

Loyalty and Mischief by (WIP)MermaidAriel13

When the beautiful Lady Sigyn arrives in Asgard, the Trickster-God, Loki, is determined to use her for his next scheme. But not all is as it seems, and Loki may just get a lot more than he bargained for.

***

What if... Loki had a wife? This is the story of the only woman who ever loved the God of Mischief.

Lady Sigyn arrives in Asgard as the betrothed to the Crown Prince, Thor Odinson. But there is another who seeks her out. Loki, the God of Mischief and Thor's brother, means to use Sigyn in his scheme to shame Thor before all the Nine Realms. But something unexpected happens - Loki finds himself falling in love with his brother's fiancée and sets all in motion to be with her, even going against the King and Allfather himself.

But others fear the immensely destructive force that resides within Sigyn, as well as Loki's influence on her. As she struggles to keep hatred and desire for vengeance out of her heart, the all-consuming fire within her slumbers beneath the surface, waiting for that one fateful day to sprout forth and eradicate the universe... or save it from another certain titanic event.

Tangled Victorious Affair by discocompacto

While Loki is still struggling to wrap his head around the concept of the TVA, he is introduced to someone who, though now a complete stranger, will turn out to be (and, most importantly, to have been) far more significant than he could ever imagine— and yet still deep down remembered.

Be careful what you wish for

She should hate him, betray him, kill him - and under no circumstances fall in love with him!

But the dreams and wishes from childhood are over now!

Don't love me

Chaos lies throughout Asgard. Power struggles and intrigues decide the fate of the Aesir. A true master of manipulation ascends to the throne of Asgard - allying herself with the supernatural powers of the Raven. Above all, the words of a woman cursed to death: "You should never have loved me, Loki."

Gender fluid Sigyn

In the remote village on Midgard near the Veiled Mountains, life is peaceful and uneventful. Although one hears rumors of a war in the West, one pays little attention to them. Only the young farmer's son Sigyn wants to find out more about his world. He is fascinated by the old stories about the Dark One, who wanted to bring eternal night to the world.

He soon learns in a terrible way how much truth there is in these legends: bloodthirsty Trollocs, the elves of darkness, attack the village and burn down Sigyn's family farm. The magician Loki saves the boy at the last minute and travels with him to Asgard. There, Sigyn learns more about the legendary Dragon Reborn and understands how closely his own fate is linked to that of his world...

Verity Willis is Sigyn

Verity Willis would have expected everything, but not that she is a reincarnation: She learns from Lorelei that not only does an ancient magic slumber in her, but that it is also Sigyn's reincarnation - and in order to train it, she is supposed to go to Lorelei accompany. Between witch spells, mystical legends and legendary beings, Verity must now find her way in this new world. In doing so, she repeatedly finds herself in a conflict of interest because she has no memories of her past life. But unfortunately that's not all... Everything that was clear, their fixed goal in mind, is totally turned upside down. Because Verity gets on the track of a dark conspiracy that not only puts her life in danger. Revealing the truth about her identity through Lorelei's actions will reignite an old hatred.

Amora my Love

When Sigyn's parents suddenly die, she is left penniless and alone on the streets of Asgard.

And what makes her already difficult situation even worse: she is half dwarf, i.e. a member of the people who enslaved the Aesir centuries ago.

Outcast and hunted, all she has left is a special coin as a glimmer of hope, which can gain her entry into the famous Magic Academy, the recognized center of magical and martial training in the Asgard.

But her joy is short-lived when she learns that the magicians refuse to teach her. And so their desperate eyes wander down to the ruins at the foot of the Storm Rocks, hoping to find something there and thus a future for themselves...

Caught in her own darkness, she meets a young sorceress who takes care of her. With all the time that passes and stones in their path, they get closer and their adventure and love story together begins.

They lost 3 years by @jonquilclegane

They lost three years

After the battle of Ragnarok, Loki and Sigyn had agreed. No more crowns, or thrones, or Tessaract. Who cared about birthrights, when it was destroying their family and tearing them apart?

So once everyone was safe, they ran away, very, very far. Thor knew, of course, and had given them his blessing. Though they had not needed it, they had appreciated it.

They found refuge on a little watery planet, with lots of sunny islands and beautiful waterfalls, that reminded Sigyn of Vanaheim. What a lovely place to start their lives and raise their children!

But alas, it did not last long. One day, while they were having dinner, Loki felt suddenly sick. Sigyn rushed to his side, asking him what was wrong with him, but he could not answer. Instead, he turned into dust in front of her helpless eyes.

She screamed, cried, begged for him to come back, but it was in vain.

Loki was gone.

She contacted Thor and he explained that Thanos had won and that there was nothing they could do.

Sigyn refused.

She would get him back.

By any means. Had she to force the Norns to change their fates, she would.

Had she to sell her soul to all the demons of Muspell to bring him back, she would.

During three years, she looked for Karmilla, their Queen, but she seemed to have disappeared. All the Norns seemed to have died, vanished into thin air, and she wondered if it was also the design of the Purple monster, or some other dark, unknown threat.

Finally, she arrived at the roots of Yggdrassil and admired its beauty for a long time, before she heard a very familiar voice.

“Oh, what do we have here? Hello little one”

That’s when she saw him.

Loki.

Loki was inside of the tree!

What in Helheim was he doing there?

“My love!”, she called, but he stopped her.

“Not your love, I’m afraid, dear”, he corrected her, “Only one of their variants”

“Variants?”, she asked, confused at the whole situation.

“Your husband will come back in two more years”, he said, “But I can bring him back now, if you’d prefer”

Sigyn let a little cry escape her lips, and she breathe again for the first time in three years.

“Yes, please, my Lord”, she wailed, “I beg you, bring him back to me”

And so the God of stories did.

Loki and Sigyn woke up, in their little house, on the planet they called home, in the arms of each other. Loki did not remember what had happened, but was relieved he was back with his wife, once again. They might have lost three years, but they had the rest of eternity to enjoy their happy ending.

At the end of time

Loki hadn't noticed Sigyn running after him and through the protective door. When he turned around and saw her, he pushed her against the nearest wall with the help of his magic. "I have to do this alone," he said and looked over at Loki and Sylvie, who were standing behind the protective door and giving him worried looks.

Loki opened the floodgate "Finally knows what kind of god I must be, for you" he said and smiled at her and went outside.

While he was still grasping all the threads of fate, a hand fell into his. It was Sigyn who picked herself up shortly after Loki magically threw her against the wall and went after him. He starts it.

"I told you that I would stay with you until the end and if I followed you to the end of all things. "I will stay by your side no matter what happens," she said with a determination and love in her voice that made Loki, who was already very close to tears, now stream down his face. How much he loved the woman, how much he always surprised him and how much he sometimes just drove her stubborn head crazy.

"I'm right behind you," and released Loki's hand and summoned her magical bowl. And they both walked towards the throne where Loki sat down and wove destinies with one another, becoming the god of history. His wife at his side who, with the help of her bowl, let healing and help run through all the threads. United together for all eternity and never alone.

Part 27 is in progress ^^

Here you can find the last part

#sigyn #loki #marvel #logyn #justiceforsigyn #loki x sigyn #lokiswife #marvel comics #marvel movies #marvel series #mcu #sigyn stories #fanfiction #sigyn fanfiction #amora the enchantress #multiverse #what if #goddessoffidelity #goddess of victory #verity willis

[imagine-loki]

🚨 CAUTION/TRIGGER WARNING: Name-Calling; Verbal Abuse

Imagine walking hand-in-hand with Loki when the two of you overhear Odin berating Frigga as a “nagging shrew.”

You ache for her, naturally, unable to imagine what it must be like to endure such a thing from one’s own husband.

Loki is visibly furious. He remembers hearing all this back when he was little. He remembers Frigga blinking back her tears and putting on a brave, happy smile for her boys.

He remembers how much worse it was for everyone whenever he or Thor tried to speak up for their mother.

Odin finishes his diatribe, and Frigga leaves. As she walks past you both, you notice an undeniable pink tinge just below her eyes.

She reaches out for Loki’s free hand and gives a squeeze. “Control yourself,” she says softly.

With that, she leaves.

Loki holds you close. “Don’t fret, love.” He kisses your temple. “I would never.”

You know he means it.

The day comes that Loki is crowned king. He looks at you, as if he’s even happier about you becoming queen.

A part of you doesn’t quite grasp the concept of being queen, though.

Decisions are made and diplomacy meetings are conducted with mostly Loki’s input. Not that he doesn’t listen to you. He certainly would if you said anything.

But you don’t.

Loki tries another tactic. Maybe he can force you to speak. “Well, before we finalize anything, we should hear from the Queen of Asgard.”

You gulp, wide-eyed.

“(Name)? Darling? What do you think?”

“I-I… I think your idea is marvelous, dear.”

He frowns. Not what he was wanting, but at least you’ve spoken.

That night, as you ready yourselves for bed, your husband confronts you on the matter.

“I know you have opinions. So why don’t you voice them?”

You shrug.

Loki sighs. “It’s not a crime to have your own thoughts, you know.”

“I know, I know… It’s just… You’re my husband, and - on top of that - you’re King of Asgard.”

“So?”

You flop your face against his sternum with a tired groan. “So, I should defer to you. I have to set a good example for the other Asgardian wives, Loki. What would they think if I disagreed with you?”

“What if I agreed with you instead?”

“Excuse me?”

It’s such a neat little system. You voice your thoughts to Loki ahead of time, he presents it to the diplomats by saying something about how “The King and Queen of Asgard feel it would be in everyone’s best interests if…” Insert negotiation here.

There’s an important caucus coming up, and this time, the two of you can’t quite see eye to eye. In fact, he won’t even carry out the charade of pretending you both have the same idea.

When you disagree at the meeting, things get tense fast. Not a word is spoken besides the two of you debating.

A nobleman soon has to adjourn the assembly before you start screaming at each other.

“What was that?!” Loki demands once you’re in private.

“I know you’re not asking me that! What about that nonsense you were spouting, hm? If we have to agree on a decision, it should at least be an intelligent decision!”

“Are you calling me stupid?!”

“Oh, nooo! Just your ideas!”

“Why, you…”

Time seems to freeze in that moment.

Loki’s jaw slowly closes on his own tongue as reason takes over and begs him to silence the words before he regrets them.

“Say it, Loki. Nagging shrew.”

#submission #Imagine #Loki #Lover #Others #God of Mischief #Angst #taniismean #verbal abuse #trigger warning

[myfanfictiongarden]

To be bound in the eternity of time….- Loki (series)

He is siting there, in silence. Everything is silence. Everything is, yet nothing is at all. Nothing moves, nothing changes, yet everything breaths, everything beats, everything lives. It is dark, utterly dark, except where the green energy surges in a blinding light, sometimes clear, sometimes mudded. There is this vast emptiness that has no end, the suffocating abundance of branches that overcrowd the place that is, but still isn’t there. Countless, infinitive lives exist somewhere, yet he is alone here surrounded by all of them. His hands are clutching on the branches,  the veins of life, holding together reality in an eternal lasting grip, chaos incarnate keeping chaos at bay. There is no room for movement, there is no strength for it, and soon his body may even forget how it was to walk in circles or stretch its arms to the skies. This throne is his everlasting seat, put together from pieces broken just like the crown he wears heavy weighting on his head. His realm is everywhere, yet nowhere at all. 

Most of all, its lonely.

The first time she appears he thinks its some kind of dream, a false illusion, conjured up by his mind out of wishful thinking. It would have been easy to loose the grip on reality when one is surrounded by countless of them. Yet she is there, but not fully there, not physically at least, appearing through her enchantments making.

“Well, hi! So… just wanted to say we are all doing fine. Yeah, thats it…” is all she says the first time before disappearing in green mist again. It is all so short, so very short, but it fils him with new strength and he holds on. She would appear again, and again, without any clear pattern, yet always when the weight seemed too heavy to bear, always lifting some of it with chatter that may have looked idle but meant the world. He never replies, he never speaks. Bound and shackeled by eternity he is unable to make any response, to make any words leave his lips. Only with his eyes he tries to bring across what her fleeting visits mean to him, that he does hear and see her, that he does find reposte in her presence. 

“Me again. Guys at the TVA are still fine, Mobius took a little break. I'm still working at that fast-food restaurant, saving up for a little road trip, wanna see the country, you know… experience it the human way. Earth is quite cool.” 

She tells him about the places she sees, the music she listens to, the food she enjoys, the people she meets. He knows all that already, he sees everything, hears everything, yet its different when it comes from her mouth, a bigger comfort.

It becomes a routine, a routine of unpredictable moments in which she may appear to him who is always looking and holding into all that was, is and will be. Always watching, never interfering. She will chat, she will talk, sometimes she will look him in the eyes, her own reflecting centuries of existence but in those moments she will not speak. Only once she does.

“I miss you. I- I should have walked out of that blasted door with you, I actually went to open it, but then… I was just frozen. I was scared, okay?” Comes out of her mouth like a storm that had been raging and had been contained for far too long, the words hasty and quickly over her lips, lest something might hold them back again. Suddenly, she does something she hadn’t done until now, her feet slowly moving her forwards, bringing her up the stairs, closer to him. He still doesn’t move, but she is so close now, leaning down to his face, that he can see her eyes clear and deep and full of tears she fights not to shed. They may have stayed like this a whole eternity, time bearing no meaning in this place removed into infinity, their eyes locked into a gaze of reflection and realisation, a mirror of separate pieces forming one. An eternity is everything here, an eternity is everything he feels as her lips find his. Its a touch gentle yet strong, filled with every contradiction she is, they both are, the union of chaos that brightens life into existence. 

“You are not alone. You never will be” stays like a whisper in the air as her form dissolves, he still unmoving, his soul though soaring, his heart stronger beating.

And so, he stays there, at the end of time, where everything is silence, where there is nothing, yet everything is.

#yep my first loki fic #because that s2 ending broke me #loki series #loki season 2 #sylki #tv shows #marvel #mcu #fan fiction #my fanfiction #my writing #things i like

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

I think it's really rich how the Loki series showrunners like to talk about Loki's problems and emotions as if he were some moody, hormonal teenager, while currently in the show Sylvie is acting like some sullen, edgy, emo bitch-brat, hating everything and everyone, sticking safety pins in her armor and working at frickin' McDonalds. And this is supposed to be seen as cooler than Loki because her "trauma was worse and her scars are deeper", yadda yadda yadda. Like??? Do they not see their own double standard??? Do they not smell their own bullshit???

I know you aren't watching the show, and the Loki series is your least favorite subject right now, it is mine too, but every time I see something related to it I just. Want to put my fist through a wall. Everything these people have said about Loki is so wrong it's like my brain can't comprehend it. Anyway thank you for being so incredibly patient with all the Loki-related anons, including mine!

And on the subject of Sylvie's armor, I can't stand seeing her wear that design. If she is so special, being "her own person" and all, then she really should stop co-opting Loki's costume and find something else. Something that's just as, um...."original" as she is. 😒

Hey, I love the anons so keep 'em coming! (I know I'm super slow with them though, so sorry about that)

I couldn't agree more about the double standard. It genuinely baffles me that they're so uninterested in one of the most complex characters the MCU has ever had. They clearly understand he's like a magnet for the fanbase, hence all the promo centring him, but they seem so keen to grab that complexity and turn it to shreds in order to make him more palatable, and it's like... he already has a lot of fans kissing his ass. You want more? Don't change him, just make a good series! Get the same freaking character acting the same way he's always been, put him in situations and we'll watch the damn thing even if it's not that good just to see him. What's not clicking?! 🤦‍♀️

It doesn't make sense to me. Disney+ needed the Marvel series to be profitable, and they want a bigger audience and more money. Okay, cool. But why, why do the execs think the only way to get people interested is by nerfing the characters and making them simpler? It's such a classist belief that ""people"" will only understand something if it's on its most superficial state.

It reminds me of this idiot minister in the UK who said he was worried people wouldn't be able to understand The Crown is fiction and not a documentary on the actual events in real life. At the time so many news headlines read "The citizens are so stupid, they think TV series are an accurate depiction of reality!" instead of "This minister is so stupid he thinks everyone is as dumb as him".

Sorry about that, I needed to rant too lol I don't know what Sylvie is wearing now but I suppose she will be wearing the Loki armour still. It is funny, she's not a Loki but she has to wear the suit otherwise no one would remember she's supposed to be a Loki since she doesn't act like one at all. See how Loki is wearing stupid TVA clothes and we all know who he is? But she has to wear the Loki suit.

[skylarstark4826]

The week Thor turns one hundred years old, there are three days of celebration. 

He is still young, an adolescent by Asgardian standards, but he is growing stronger by the day.  The crown prince trains hard, studies hard, and tries to prepare as much as he can to one day rule (even though his father tells him that no matter how hard he tries, he cannot learn wisdom—that, Odin says, can only be earned.). 

On the night of his birthday, the city is aglow with fireworks and dancing and laughter; hearts fill with hope in their future King.  And every time a dish shatters, there is an eruption of happy cries for good health and happiness to their royals. 

There are also more gifts than he has use for.  The pile grows so high, the well-wishers so many, Thor has a difficult time seeing much beyond it all and finally orders for them to be moved to his chambers.  His friends, the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, voice their rambunctious disappointment for not getting to inspect firsthand what he receives but Thor laughs them off.  For the most part, he is content just to watch the revelry. 

Part of that revelry is his little brother.

Loki, for all of his griping about having to dress nicely, spends a happy night filling all of the nobles goblets with frogs and then running for his life when father gets wind of it. 

It makes Thor laugh and his father turn red in the face.  Living up to his name, the young God of Mischief leaves the party reeling from his antics and Odin in an absolute tizzy. 

It is only the queen who can calm Odin and she does so by calling for a dance. 

Thor’s mother, Queen Frigga is regal in every sense of the word; she is sunlight incarnate, golden and warm and kind.  And for all that Odin rules Asgard with an iron fist, Frigga only has to clap her hands twice for what feels like the entire city to rise to attention and rush to the dance floor.  Odin included. 

More than one lingering, hopeful glance is tossed Thor’s way as the music begins.  He smiles kindly at all but does not move from his seat.  Instead, Thor watches his parents clasp hands and smile at one another.  There is a tenderness in Odin’s eyes as he gazes at Frigga, even after all of these years, and the sight of it stirs something unnamable in Thor’s chest. 

As his mother and father sway under the moonlight, the crown prince of Asgard quietly slips away and spends the rest of the evening in his mother’s private chambers. 

It’s a place he often goes when he needs to think—a place of refuge from a world that expects so much out of him.  A place where Thor can put away the crown and rest.

It is less than an hour later when the door cracks open and soft footfalls meet his ears.

“Why are you hiding in here?”  Frigga asks, a soft smile on her lips.  “That party out there is for you.”

Thor is on the ground before the fireplace, his back against a luxurious chair.  One leg is straight while the other is bent.  He turns his head and lifts his brows.  “I grew tired.”

“And yet you did not go to bed,” Frigga comments and Thor doesn’t elaborate, turning back to stare into the fire.

In truth, he doesn’t know what to say, how to explain the melancholy that came over him tonight.  But it swells in his chest like a great wave and Thor has never been a good swimmer. 

“Scoot over.”

Thor lifts his head and blinks but Frigga shoos him with her hands.  He shifts and makes room for her, the Queen of this entire realm, to plop down on the cold floor next to him.  He wonders what the court would do if they knew that their royalty chose the hard ground over silk cushions.  His father’s advisors would keel over and die. 

Maybe Thor should tell them after all.

“Come here, you,” Frigga’s says playfully as she wraps an arm around Thor’s broadening shoulders.  He is finally taller than her and hasn’t let her forget that for the last month.  But as she tucks him into her side, Thor suddenly feels like he is but a babe once more.  Heaving a great sigh, Thor turns and gives into his mother’s insistent tugging until he rests his head on her shoulder. 

“You may be one hundred years old, but you are still my child,” deceptively strong arms slip around him and Thor closes his eyes against his will when his mother slides gentle fingers through his hair.  The heat from the fire warms them both and her voice is a soothing balm.  “Now, tell me, what has got my firstborn so upset?”

Thor is quiet for a long time and Frigga doesn’t push him to answer.  She lets him think and gather his thoughts and be sure of them. 

Which is why there are some things that he will only ever be able to tell his mother and no other.  This is one of them.

“Do you,” Thor starts and then stops, his mouth clicking shut.  He tries again.  “Do you think it is possible to miss someone you have never met?”

“What do you mean?”

“I ache,” Thor admits at last, the words very quiet.  He swallows wetly.  “I want a love like the kind you and father have, and I fear I will never find it.”

The fire crackles and snaps and Frigga never stops running her fingers through his hair.  Thor almost drifts off completely when she whispers—

“One day, my son, love will hit you so hard it will knock you right off your feet.”

When he falls, he does not fall gently.

It is sudden and rushing and shifts worlds.  For the longest time, he cannot breathe.  Darkness surrounds him, presses down on him, and his stomach plunges.  And then he bursts through a canopy of brilliant stars and colossal cloud on a path only his father understands and only Heimdall can see.  It is almost beautiful.

Up until the moment when the ground rushes up to meet him.

Thor’s chest heaves and he makes a terrible noise seconds before he slams into the New Mexico desert where it splinters like fine china under his body.

“I think that was legally your fault!”

The words float into his ears, but he doesn’t understand them, doesn’t know who is speaking or why they are yelling.  There is dust in his nose, coating his skin in a fine layer.  It surrounds him like a fog and he chokes on it, wants to sneeze, but can’t because he is fairly certain something important deep inside of him has fractured.

Only later would he realize it is his heart.

“Get the first aid kit!”  Delicate hands rest on his arm and Thor tries to lift his head.  A blinding light shines directly in his eyes and he cannot see through it.  Confusion rolls through him when a voice commands, “Do me a favor and don’t be dead.  Please.”

Frowning at the mere suggestion that something so minor could kill him, the God of Thunder, the future King of Asgard.

But you’re not King yet.

His father’s voice echoes in his head and a bitter thorn twists itself deeper into Thor’s wounded heart.  He feels the poison of it spread like fire in his veins.  Pushing up off the ground, Thor staggers and stumbles gracelessly.  Two females and a male skitter away from him, their forms barely visible in the darkness and the cloud of dust, but Thor is not threatened by them.

One glance tells him that they are more wary of him—that he is the biggest threat here. 

And they are right to assume so.

“Hammer?”  Thor impatiently roars out.  Pulling on Mjolnir has become second nature, the weapon an extension of his arm more than anything else.  But pulling on it now is like tugging on a loose string that never tightens.

It doesn’t answer his call and that floods him with panic.

“Hammer?!”  Thor tries again and from the side, one of the three bumbling beings mutters something snide that he doesn’t understand.

There are more important things to deal with than these three.

Tilting his head back to the sky, his lips twist in an ugly manner as he bellows, “Father?  Heimdall?  I know you can hear me—open the BiFrost.”

Above, the deepest of blues remains wholly unmoved.  There is no shimmer of rainbow-colored light, no promise of hope. 

Nothing.

And it hits Thor then, that for the first time in his long life, he is truly alone.

Banished.

“Where did he come from?”

His chest feels blown open like shutters in a violent storm and he turns to the beings behind him in a rage.

“You!”  He points at the smallest female.  The male, old enough to be her father, hovers over her shoulder, ready to rip her away from danger.  “What realm is this?  Alfheim?  Nornheim?”

“New Mexico,” supplies the second female and Thor has never heard of such a place.  He turns to her, a sneer on his lips, and he scoffs when he sees she has steadily pointed a small weapon at him.

Stepping towards her, his heart ripping itself apart inside of him, he bares his teeth, “You dare threaten me, Thor, with so puny a weapo—”

She shoots him and he falls harder than he has ever fallen in his long life.

Midgard is a strange planet, Thor thinks.  The rules make no sense to him and he finds it more frustrating than anything else.

After all, it is quite the compliment on Asgard to throw a plate or a goblet once you are finished consuming its contents.  It is one of the highest compliments he knows how to give and one he does not often do at home, but here, he wanted to be a kind guest and show the depth of his appreciation to his hosts.

Instead, his attempt is seen as a blunder and he watches as his actions are explained away as though he were nothing but a child.

Thor does not bring it up again, does not wish to see the embarrassed blush on Jane’s face or the uncomfortable frown on Erik’s. 

Out of the three of them, Darcy is the only one who seemed to enjoy his attempts.  She documents his journey every step of the way and Thor is happy to oblige for her ‘photographs’.  He does wonder, in part, if she is something like a bard in this realm.  Bards, though often low in status, are some of Thor’s favorite beings.

They are always good humored with a song at hand and a tale to tell.  And if Darcy does in fact wish to tell his story, then Thor would be honored to let her do so.  

“Hey, so I had an idea,” Darcy announces later than day after they return to their base. 

Jane doesn’t look up from her work but that doesn’t seem to bother Darcy because she is staring squarely at Thor.  Intrigued, he tilts his head in silent question. 

The woman’s eyes shine with nothing short of mischief and Thor is all at once so achingly homesick for another raven-haired being full of tricks and playfulness that he doesn’t hear the words that come out of her mouth next.  It is as though the world is ripped out from under his feet and he is balancing on nothing but an unsteady rope with no net to catch him when he falls.

And he will fall, is about to tip over the edge, when someone snaps their fingers in front of his face.

Blinking rapidly, Thor frowns at Darcy and she smirks.  “Lost you there for a moment, dude.”

“I am sorry,” Thor rasps, unable to say anything more. 

“No worries,” she tells him breezily with a careless flap of her hand.  And then Darcy flicks her eyes over him swiftly and nods her head towards the door with a promising grin.  “How about you follow me and we can get some fresh air?”

With a glance at Jane who has yet to come up for air from her calculations, Thor rises and follows Darcy out the door.  She leads him around the back of the building where a large pile of dishes sit on the thirsty, dusty ground. 

“What is this?” 

Darcy squats to pick through some of it.  “Just some junk I found at a local garage sale.  It was already chipped, and I probably got ripped off buying it, but hey, who cares.”  She chooses two off-white plates and hands one to him as she straightens up.  “This’ll be fun.”

Thor takes the plate without question (one of the first things he learned on Midgard was not to question Darcy).  “Are we preparing for a feast?” 

“Nope,” the woman gives him a gap-toothed smile, ruby lips a stark contrast to her pale skin.  “We’re gonna smash shit.”

“Pardon me?” 

Giddy, Darcy almost hops from foot to foot. 

“You know, like you did earlier in the diner, but in a bit of a more controlled environment.”

“I…” Thor pauses, confused, and his brows pull together as he thinks back to this morning and the shock from the humans.  He wonders if this is a joke meant to humiliate him.  His voice becomes very quiet as he finally explains, “I was trying to pay you all a compliment and it did not go well.  I apologize for any shame I may have caused.  It was not my intention.  You have been nothing but kind to me.”

At some point during his apology, Darcy’s smile falls from her face like snow sliding off the side of a mountain.  Lowering her plate, she takes a step towards him and touches his arm.

It is nothing more than a brush of her fingers against his skin, but that touch feels magnified, as if the entirety of Thor’s body lives in that infinitely small space. 

He realizes, then, that this is the first time he has been touched in a kind manner since arriving on Midgard.  It sears into his mind and he is suddenly hyper-aware of the way the wind whips unruly strands of midnight hair across Darcy’s forehead, the fullness of her lips, the way the sunbeams light her crystal eyes up like pyres burning behind thick blue icy walls.

“Hey Thor, it’s okay,” Darcy’s voice is a murmur and he can’t recall a time when he’s heard her use a tone like this.  “We come from different cultures.  I bet it’s been a hell of a shock for you to try to adjust to ours.  Maybe we owe you the apology for not helping or explaining things better.”

For the longest time, he just stares at her, this human woman.

“Midgard is very different,” Thor finally manages.

Darcy’s answering smile is brilliant and encouraging.  “Maybe you could tell me about your home sometime?”

He promises no such thing, as it feels too tender, too fresh of a wound to prod.  And Darcy reads him like an open book.

“No rush though, take your time, and if it’s never time, that’s okay, too,” and then her voice brightens.  “But hey, that’s why I bought these.  Sometimes people hold in a lot of anger or rage and since we want to avoid going on, you know, like a murder spree, the best way to get some of that emotion out is to destroy shit.”

She motions grandly to the stacks of fragile dishes.  Thor looks at her as though she has taken leave of her mind.

“You want me to…?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy nods and then lifts the plate she has been holding.  “Here, I’ll start.”  She steps up towards the building and squints, as though taking aim.  Before throwing the plate, Darcy slides a look at him and secretly grins.  “Here goes my best Captain America impression.”

She flings the plate.

It flies through the air and falls to the ground, missing the building entirely before shattering in a pathetically small manner. 

Thor lifts a brow at her and Darcy groans.  “Don’t look at me like that, I never did sports.  I just did the guys who did sports.”

“Perhaps I should give you a lesson,” Thor taunts and Darcy’s teeth gleam in a wicked smile.

“About how to do sports or do guys?” 

The god doesn’t entirely understand her vernacular, but he can pick up enough context clues to get it.  Choosing not to answer and feeling more like himself than he has in many moons, Thor winks at her and flips the plate in the air before catching it with ease.  Delighted, Darcy’s eyes sparkle in a manner Thor is utterly unprepared for.

Her gaze trails his every move through hooded lids, and it is like a burn on his skin for all that it stirs him.  A muscle in Thor’s jaw works.

“Go ahead.”  She challenges and her voice sounds to the god like sex, heavy and full of honey.

The plate is obliterated against the side of the building before he even realizes it left his hand.  In truth, it hadn’t taken much force but there is some deep male pride he feels in the way that it explodes like a ceramic firework.

Or perhaps that pride comes more from the way Darcy’s plump lips fall open.  His mind instantly wonders what those lips would look like wrapped around him.

It is with a fierce viciousness that he shoves that thought away before she can catch it on his face.  Because for all that Darcy laughs and teases and plays the fool, he knows that she is anything but.

“Hot damn,” she says in an exhale and then clumsily scrambles for something beside the stack of plates.  Lifting it, she hands a weapon to him.  It has a long wooden handle and a metal head, one end rounded while the other ran in two curved spikes.  “Try this next.”

“And this is?”  Thor asks carefully.  It is… a very odd looking weapon. 

Darcy waggles it.  “A hammer.  It’s your favorite, remember?”

Thor gives her a very flat look.

“This is not a hammer.”

“It is here on earth,” she scoffs and shakes it at him again.  “Why don’t you give it a try?”

He does and when the metal head cracks after his fourth blow, he informs Darcy’s shocked face that Midgard would do well to forge more sturdy weaponry.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The question comes out of nowhere.  Thor is standing on the steps of Jane’s lab, gazing up at the night sky, searching.  He has been on Midgard for over a week now and though he is forever in the debt of the kindness of humans, every night Thor aches for home.

Tonight is no different.

It is one thing to be stripped of his crown, his power, his immortality.  It is another thing entirely to be stripped of his home, his friends, his family, his people.

He feels hollowed out, a shell of what he once was, and miserable.

“Thor?”  Darcy calls, her voice oddly cautious.

He turns and looks down at her.  She is short, like Jane is short, but where Jane is delicate—built like a bird, flawless and beautiful—Darcy is temptation itself. 

She is like nothing he has ever seen and everything he wants to see all at once. 

Thor isn’t sure why she hides such a desirable form under her layers upon layers of clothing, or why she crosses her arms over her stomach and constantly tugs at the hem of her shirt to cover the pleasing curve of her backside, but he thinks he might kill whoever made her to feel such shame.

He watches as she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth and the way her dark brows meet as she stares off into the distance.  The desert before them is empty, cavernous in a way that is wild and haunting under the full moon but all Thor can think is that he would like to pull that lip between his own teeth and taste it for himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”  She says suddenly, not looking at him as she speaks.

“Anything.” 

Darcy nods.

“Okay.  I know you’ve talked about coming from another ‘realm’ and for the most part Jane and Erik have humored you… but… I just.  Fuck it, I’m just going to say it: you’re not just some rando, crazy, homeless guy, are you?”

There is a long moment of silence.

When Thor speaks next, his voice is very low.  “What do you think I am?”

“I think…” Darcy pauses and drags her eyes back to his.  They are luminous under the moonbeams and he is all at once trapped in their glow.  She is a stunning female.  “I think you’re a god and I think you’re trapped here.”

Thor does not answer, he merely stares down at Darcy, enraptured.  She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve been reading a book we got out of the library.  It talks about Asgard and a rainbow bridge,” she rushes out and then adds, almost shyly.  “And you.”

“And…” Thor starts and stops, clearing his throat.  “Would you fear me if I were?” 

“No,” Darcy answers right away and there is something very honest in her voice.  “You might freak me out sometimes, but it’s not fear.  I find it kinda cool.”  She pauses and grins then, snickering to herself more than anything.  “Besides, not everyone can say that they knocked a god off their feet, can they?  Do you think I could put that on my resume?”

And all at once, Thor is just barely one hundred years old and back in his mother’s study before a warm fire and he cannot breathe.

Loki betrays him, betrays them all, and his wounded rage spreads through the universe like a great sickness, chasing Thor to Midgard.  The town burns and when Darcy should run, she chooses instead to rescue creatures that cannot save themselves.

Thor wants to throttle her.

It is hard to throttle someone whose arms are full of fluffy animals though.  Especially when he also has the Destroyer to deal with. 

With the help of Sif and the Warriors Three, Thor fights to protect this small town of humans.  It is no easy thing without his powers, but he manages well enough.  And the entire time he fights, Darcy shouts and screams and yells advice.

It does not help.

Eventually when she starts calling out threatening taunts to the Destroyer itself, causing it to turn and stare at her, Jane, thankfully, covers her mouth and forcefully drags her away.  If he were not trying to focus solely on bringing the fullness of the Destroyer’s attention on him and away from the innocent humans, Thor might have told her she had gone mad.

He never gets the chance to.

Loki ravages the town but not just the town, he is aiming for every spot that might hurt Thor the most.  It terrifies Thor, right to the bone, what his brother is capable of doing.  Loki sends the Destroyer after the Warriors Three.  He sends it after Sif.  He sends it after innocent humans.  But when he sends the fires of his wrath towards Darcy, something in Thor snaps loose and shifts into place and he knows, instantly, that there is only one way to end this. 

It becomes achingly clear what he must do. 

Like the rising of a sudden dawn, he knows what is about to happen and oddly enough, Thor is calm.  There are worse ways to go but he will go on his own terms, at least.  Death will not sneak up on him, or crawl slowly up his soul like it did to so many—no, he is going to run right into it and embrace it.

Dropping the meager Midgardians weapons and shielding, Thor walks out, unarmed, into the burning street, ignoring the startled cries of his friends.  The Destroyer is ahead, and its name is its nature, proof by the fires burning and the road filled with broken glass and crumbling brick. 

“Brother,” Thor calls out in a clear voice and it does not shake.  The sorrow and confusion he feels towards Loki briefly overpowers his fear for Darcy’s life.  Thor cannot, for the life of him, understand how so much went so wrong.  “Whatever I have done to wrong you, whatever I have done to lead you to do this, I am truly sorry.  But these people are innocent.  Taking their lives will gain you nothing.”  He can hear Darcy screaming for him, can see her being held back by Sif whose face has gone bone white.  Thor does not turn to look at them as he offers, “So, take mine and end this.”

There is a moment when the Destroyer appears to think and Thor wonders if Loki’s madness has reached its end.

But morality was a funny thing, like a slide; it begins with a push and ends with a fall and Loki is not done falling when the Destroyer turns back around and strikes a killing blow.  Thor doesn’t feel it at first, feels nothing at all but the wind rushing around him as he flies through the air.

For a moment, he thinks he is flying with Mjolnir again.

And then he hits the ground and with that jarring jolt comes the pain.  His vision turns white and he cannot hear anything at all.  Deep inside, something is wrong, he knows it, can feel things rattling inside his chest that should be whole. 

“NO!”  The shout cracks through the air like a whip and then at once Darcy is hovering over him, blocking out the sun.  The golden light illuminates the edges of her raven-hair, glowing and glinting like a living thing, and Thor thinks she has never looked more beautiful. 

“Thor,” she sputters and reaches for his face but pulls back, as if she is frightened to touch him.  “Oh god, Thor, please.”

Her voice trembles and tears well in her eyes and even as he lays there broken, staring up at her, he reaches out his hand to touch her face. 

There is no conscious thought attached to the action, he just wants to touch her for the first time and maybe the last time—to feel her skin, to remind himself that she is real, that it is possible, after all.  He doesn’t know what he expects from her in that moment, but when Darcy closes her eyes and leans into his palm, there is a distinct sensation of falling in his chest and in his stomach.

Something inside of Thor cracks open and warmth spreads, filling every inch of his body with a glowing, blinding light.

And his heart cannot bear it.

“You’re safe,” Thor says at last and he knows it is true and that it is, perhaps, the only thing in this world that matters to him.

His heart stutters and skips and breath is hard to find.

“No, no, no, not like this,” Darcy shakes her head desperately, a certain wildness around her eyes.  “I need you to stay alive.”

Thor smiles at her.

“Do not fret.  To die for you, Darcy Lewis, is not so terrible a thing.”

Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.

Death is an odd thing and Thor seriously questions his father’s idea of teaching a lesson if it requires his heir to die and then be resurrected.  He understands the moral of it, knows deep down that something in him has changed, but he also firmly decides that this is nota method of teaching that he will continue to encourage when he becomes King of Asgard.

Not only is Thor resurrected, but his powers are fully restored as is his immortality.  He is not aware of what takes place after he drifted into that space between realms, but he knows that when he awakes it was to a flash of white, hot energy sliding over his skin like electrified velvet. 

And to Darcy screaming in his ear.

“Oh, you asshole!  If you didn’t just die, I—I—I would kill you right now!”

Her small hands shove uselessly at his newly armored chest and Thor cannot help but bellow out a deep laugh at her show of rage, which only makes her squawk even louder.

“Keep laughing, dude!  Don’t make me go get the hammer.”

“Darcy,” Thor says in an affectionate tone and something about it catches her instant attention.  She goes still and looks up at him and only then does Thor realize he has an arm wrapped around her waist.  His eyes flick to hers and she bites her lip when he flexes his hand on the curve of her hip.  Carefully, he lifts Mjolnir for her to examine.  “This is a hammer.”

Her bright blue eyes fall to the mythical weapon and she lifts both brows, her mouth twisting in a secret laugh. 

“You know, I feel like this is probably some kind of inuendo and I just want you to know that I am totally here for it.”

“I do not know when I will be able to return.”

Thor hates this.  He hates this and yet he cannot change it.  Darcy and the human world are safe, his brother is not and Thor cannot bear to lose either.

“I know,” she nods and her voice is very small.  The look on her face is enough to cleave his heart into two.

“Darcy—”

He does not know what he is going to say and he never finds out because Darcy pushes up onto her toes and kisses him.  It is a chaste thing and Thor stops breathing.  Darcy holds him there, motionless for a long moment, and then she withdraws, just slightly.  Their lips come apart and she tilts her head the other way—so that their noses brush.

“You know what’s amazing about lightning?”  Darcy asks in a voice like midnight.  “It strikes and it lasts only for a split second.  But in that moment, it forces you to soak in every ounce of power and brilliance as quickly as you can before it’s gone.  It stuns you and stays with you for a long time afterwards. You’re my lightning, Thor.”

Thor just looks at her, frozen, drinking her in and letting this moment settle into his bones and he thinks he might burst.

And then he takes Darcy’s face in his hands, swoops down, and collides his mouth with hers.  Fire erupts in his chest and Thor kisses her over and over, at a dizzying pace—harder, fiercer—sliding his hands down her neck, her shoulders, and then winding his arms around her waist with the strength of a god. 

Each time he pulls back, he returns to catch her mouth in a new, frantic, desperate and electrifying way that obliterates his thoughts.  Darcy clings to his shoulders, as if she cannot balance upon her own two feet.

When they finally pull apart, Darcy gasps and breaks into giggles and shouts at the top of her lungs to no one in particular—

“I would just like to say that I called dibs on him first.  Just to make that known.”

“Who is she?”

Thor turns and meets the knowing gaze of his mother.  Even in her age, she is glowing with elegant beauty beyond comparison.

Frigga comes to a stop next to him and links her arm through his.  She is now a head shorter than him and Thor cannot stop himself from planting a soft kiss to the top of her head when it comes into range.  It is second nature for him now. 

She laughs and it sounds like home.

“Come now, you do not think I cannot recognize that look?”  Thor stays quiet and his mother tilts her head back.  Her gaze is a soft, hopeful thing.  “Have you found love?”

“Yes,” Thor answers easily, because, to him, it is the easiest thing on the planet—loving Darcy.  “I have.”

“Why do you mourn then?”

Ever sharp, Thor lifts both brows and spares his mother a glance.  She knows him too well.  Chest expanding, Thor manages to get out, “I mourn for Loki.”  A deep shadow passes through Frigga’s eyes and Thor knows he is not alone in his grief.  Still, he continues after clearing his throat, “And the bridge is gone.”

Meaning there is no way to return to Darcy.

He spent three-thousand years waiting for love to find him and once it does, it is ripped away.  It has been a month since he left Midgard, since he returned home to his throne and his family and his way of life.  It is everything he wanted, and yet…

His chest tightens.

“I was raised by witches, boy.”  Frigga says suddenly, the words rolling out of her mouth in a small smirk and Thor slowly turns to his mother.  “I know other ways to travel.  If this human woman—”

“Darcy.”

She stops and smiles up at Thor, her eyes two happy half-moons.  “What a lovely name.”

“She is lovely in every way.”

He knows the emotion bleeds into his voice and he cannot help it and Thor thinks his mother might cry from the brightness in her eyes.

“If you truly love her,” Frigga tells him.  “I will help you find a way to her.”

In all truth, he should have expected her reaction.

Thor’s arrival is sudden and unannounced.  Frigga’s secret pathway between worlds works and he is far too excited to see the woman he loves and to tell her he loves her that he forgets that Darcy Lewis is not a woman to be trifled with.

It is a realization that comes too late. 

Thor appears as nothing more than a hulking shadow while Darcy is walking through the front door and she is so startled that she drops her coffee.  It splatters magnificently on the floor and bottom half of her pants.  She doesn’t realize it’s him and before Thor can get a word out, Darcy whips out her taser and nails him right in the balls.

When he comes to, Thor is flat on his back and laughing hysterically until there are tears running down his face and Darcy is screeching at him and hitting him and hugging him all at once. 

All is right in the world and Thor is sure he has never been happier than he is in this moment. 

One day, my son, love will hit you so hard, it will knock you right off your feet.

His mother, it turns out, was right. 

“Does it bother you?”  He asks softly.

Darcy’s head is lying on his bare chest and it tickles his skin when she shifts and lifts her head to look at him.  Even after hours of making love, even after Darcy wrings him utterly dry, the God of Thunder cannot ignore the stirring in the pit of his belly when she stares at him the way she does now.  Midnight hair is mussed from his hands, full lips swollen from his kisses, her skin petal soft under his hands. 

“What?”

For a long moment, Thor cannot remember what it is he was going to say, he is so distracted by her.  Finally, it comes to him.  “You knew me at first when I was still mortal.  Now… I am not.”

“Hmm,” Darcy hums lowly.  Her hands glide over his skin, fingers dipping into every ridge and plane of his belly before making the agonizingly slow journey back to his chest.  She pokes his nipple twice and grins.  “You feel the same to me.”

“Quit your teasing, wench,” Thor teases and jerks when she twists his nipple suddenly between her fingers and Darcy laughs. 

She pushes up and rises from her place at his side and Thor watches, entranced, as she slides a deliciously thick leg over his middle and straddles him naked as the day she was born.  From her place atop him, Darcy peers down at his prone form like a goddess upon her throne. 

“You look the same,” she tells him, biting her lip, and then rolls her hips until her backside brushes against his swiftly hardening cock and Thor hisses.  Full breasts shift and bounce as she moves again, in a teasing manner, and drags another noise from his throat. “You sound the same.”

Unable to stay still, Thor reaches up and snatches the vixen from her seat of power.  Darcy squeaks but Thor just winds his arms around her back until those perfect breasts press against his chest in the most pleasing way.  Strands of her hair catch on his short beard and Thor blows out a puff of hot air to try and get them to unlatch.

He goes still and he feels Darcy’s lips on his skin.  She presses an open-mouthed kiss right over his heart.  Lifting her gaze, Darcy’s eyes become very bright and Thor thinks that it looks something almost like devotion.

“This heart is what I fell in love with, Thor,” Darcy murmurs, something vulnerable and soft and sweet in her tone, “and that hasn’t changed.”

“You love me?”  Thor blurts out, unable to hide the shock and awe in his voice. 

A laugh bubbles out of Darcy’s mouth and her answering grin is like the sun itself.  “Yes, you dork.  You’ve said it to me more times than I can count in the last three hours, so it’s my turn now: I love you.”

For the longest time it is all he can do to simply stare at her, Darcy Lewis, this utter gift, and it hits him with the physical impact of his mighty hammer.  He staggers under it, mouth falling open, chest tightening, his heart lurching into his throat, and he is tumbling down, down, down—

When Thor falls in love, he does not fall gently.

#Tharcy #ship: thor x darcy #thor x darcy #thor and darcy #thor odinson #darcy lewis

[anonymousewrites]

Curse to My Heart Chapter Four

Chapter Four: On the Eve

            “Damn it all!” Loki hurled his latest book into his pile of abandoned tomes and slumped down in his seat, gazing out his castle’s library window in frustration.

            “Loki, you’ve read and reread every book on curses you own,” said Sylvie in annoyed exhaustion.

            “There must be a way to break it. There must,” muttered Loki. “Tomorrow the boy turns eighteen. I must find a cure immediately.”

            “You can’t,” said Sylvie firmly. “I know it upsets you, but you ensured only True Love’s Kiss could break the spell. Scour every book a hundred times and you will still find nothing.” Her gaze softened as she looked at Loki. “You wanted Quentin to never have hope of breaking it on his own, so you made the curse strong.”

            Loki’s eyes turned sorrowful. “But I must because…” He searched for the words, but they did not come easily without a swath of emotions. “Because I must be honorable. Like her.”

            “Because you’re in love with her.” Sylvie said it plainly, no question in it. She heard it in how Loki spoke of (Y/N), how he looked at her.

            Loki froze. “I—I do not. I simply understand that the boy is not at fault for his father’s sins, and as (Y/N) does, I should comport myself with more…Well, not humility, but honor.”

            “Yes, and that’s why you have neither eaten nor slept since (Y/N) left yesterday,” muttered Sylvie.

            “Instead of teasing me, you could try to help,” snapped Loki.

            Sylvie raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. She would not take Loki being rude to her. She might owe him a debt and help him, but she was no servant. They were friends.

            Loki sighed. “Apologies, Sylvie. I…I struggle to control myself at this moment.”

            Sylvie pursed her lips and sighed. “I will travel to the fae villages and see if I can discover any helpful information.” She walked to the door before pausing and looking back. “I think (Y/N) might respect you for trying, you know.”

            “But after Peter falls asleep, she won’t. She’ll remember that I should simply have never cast that spell,” said Loki.

            “Maybe,” said Sylvie. “But I think if she was really that stubborn, she would have slapped you the moment you turned up at that cottage. She seems like the type.”

l

            “Alright, all done up, looking sharp, your father will be so excited to see you,” said Banner, rambling as he finished buttoning Peter’s embellished vest.

            As he continued muttering to himself about how glad he was to be going away from this tiny cottage, Banner walked out of the room, picking up items he, Thor, and Valkyrie were taking with them as he went. (Y/N) sighed and put her hand on Peter’s shoulder, who was quiet through all of the preparations.

            “How are you feeling, Peter?” asked (Y/N).

            “I want to stay here,” he answered softly. “I don’t know the King. You’re the one who raised me—this is my home. I don’t want to leave.”

            “I know, Peter, neither do I,” said (Y/N). She squeezed Peter’s shoulder.

            “What’s going to happen when I get there?” questioned Peter worriedly.

            “You’ll be properly crowned the Crown Prince.” (Y/N) sighed. “King Quentin will teach you to rule properly.”

            “And you?” Peter looked at her worriedly. “What will happen to you?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I go back to my job as a maid.” She smiled. “I was just upgraded to babysit you, you brat.”

            Peter smiled slightly, her attempt to cheer him up working a bit. “I’m going to miss you. I’ll try to still see you.” He perked up. “Maybe I could get the King to you a title for all that you’ve done.”

            (Y/N) waved a hand. “That’s nice of you, but I doubt that’s going to happen.” She made a face. “Men are the one’s given titles for acts of bravery.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just drop you off and make a run for it.”

            Peter’s face fell. “You’d just leave me?”

            Goddamn it, thought (Y/N), her resolve failing as the boy she raised looked at her sadly. “No, no. I’ll stay. Don’t have the money to runoff anyways.” She gave Peter a final pat on the shoulder. “Let’s go. The fairies will go into conniptions if we wait any longer.”

            Peter sighed. “I wish I could have said goodbye to MJ.”

            Me too, Peter. Me too, thought (Y/N) ruefully. She glanced out the window to where the trees of the fae kingdom loomed above the thorn wall, visible even from this distance. And I wish I could have said goodbye to Loki.

l

            “Announcing his highness, Prince Peter!” said Thor with his booming voice as he opened the Great Hall’s doors with his magic.

            Banner, Thor, and Valkyrie walked into the hall confidently as hushed whispers started up among the lords and ladies who had been expectantly awaiting Peter’s return. Poor Peter shifted uncomfortably until (Y/N) gave him an encouraging nudge forward. The group walked down the aisle to the large dais where Quentin, now the sole ruler of the kingdom, sat in his large, imposing throne. He looked down at the approaching people with a relaxed body but cold, calculating eye.

            He rose from his thrown and threw out his arms, his green and purple robes swaying with his movement to showcase their ornate velvet material. The lords and ladies looked at his expensive, showy look with jealousy and respect, but (Y/N) remain unimpressed. The finest clothes she had seen, after all, were on a very different man. One (Y/N) felt very differently about.

            “Welcome!” Quentin greeted them magnanimously. “My son, your return has been anticipated with much excitement!” He descended from the dais, letting his clothes trail behind him.

            (Y/N) was struck by how thin and tired he looked beneath his jewels and robes. The years had not been kind to him as his stress and fear of Loki built into an insanity to protect himself. But Quentin still struggled to maintain a dignified personality, and no one saw through it. But (Y/N) did. Unlike the lords and ladies, she knew the truth of Quentin’s dealings with Loki.

            Quentin shook each of the fairies’ hands. “Thank you for watching over my son. I owe you much.” He did not look at (Y/N) at all.

            Asshole, she thought.

            He turned to his court, grabbed Peter’s hand, and raised it above his head. “He shall spend his final night as a boy here, in the safety of the castle! And tomorrow, our victory against that witch Loki will be absolute!”

            Peter glanced back at (Y/N) uncomfortably, not just because he didn’t view the King as his father. (Y/N) had explained the curse to Peter and who had cast it, but she, unlike the fairies, told him the complete truth—Loki had watched over him and regretted his actions. Peter knew the curse mays till come to fruition, but he understood that Loki no longer held malice in his heart towards Peter. He also knew that (Y/N) cared for Loki, and hearing about him seemed to upset her in the last few days.

            Peter did not say anything, he knew the fairies didn’t know about their encounters or how much Peter knew about the situation that they didn’t, but he could not help worrying for the woman he saw as a mother. She was sad. He didn’t like it. But Peter forced a smile onto his face for his “father.” Perhaps Loki’s regret would break the curse, stop it. Maybe he and (Y/N) could take Peter away from the castle and they could live free for the rest of their lives.

            “Come, my boy, we have much to speak about,” said Quentin, pulling Peter from his thoughts.

            Peter smiled uncomfortably. “Right.”

l

            “I hated that,” muttered Peter as (Y/N) led him into his room. Guards were outside, waiting to lock the door so Peter couldn’t find a spindle to prick his finger on once the clock chimed midnight.

            “You survived it,” said (Y/N). “And now you just have to survive tonight.” She took a deep breath and put her hands on Peter’s shoulders. “I promise that whatever happens tonight, I’ll be there, okay?”

            “And then…we can run away?” asked Peter.

            (Y/N) sighed. “If you make it through the night with absolutely no troubles, then sure, I’ll consider it.” She grinned. “But that’s only if you don’t do anything in desperation to prick your finger because ‘the curse compelled you.’ ”

            Peter smiled. “Deal!” He smirked. “And maybe go find Loki…?”

            “I don’t know why you’d want to see him,” said (Y/N), primly avoiding the insinuation.

            “Yeah you do,” said Peter.

            (Y/N) scowled (but she wasn’t really angry). “I don’t like your tone, young man.”

            Peter shrugged. “Fae kingdom seems as good a place as any to run away to.”

            “Would be the last place they’d think to look for us,” admitted (Y/N), rolling her eyes. “But that isn’t even a possibility until you make it through tonight, okay?”

            “Right,” said Peter, his face set in determination.

            “I have to head out, now,” said (Y/N), stepping back. She gave a lopsided grin and a wink. “Almost midnight, princess. Guards have to lock you up in your tower.”

            Peter smiled as she left. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “That’s the spirit,” called (Y/N) as the guards shut the door.

            And as she began the walk to her own quarters, the moon crept higher in the sky as the next day drew closer.

l

            (Y/N) felt oddly sluggish as she mounted the stairs. She paused and shook her head to clear it, but as she went, it only got worse. Her whole body felt heavy, like something was keeping her from moving properly. However, (Y/N) had no difficulty taking steps—in fact, she felt like a current was pushing her up. She just felt like her actions were not totally in her own control.

            It only worsened as she arrived at her room. (Y/N) felt like she was trapped within her own body, just a mind within a vessel acting on another’s whims.

            This can’t be good, she thought dismally.

            At least she could still think. It was the small things that really mattered, right? That and the fact she might be walking to her doom, but (Y/N) was trying not to think of that (it was more than a little depressing to think of, and she had enough on her plate).

            The door to her room swung open of its own accord, a slight green glow covering it as it revealed a mostly barren room within.

            Even worse.

            Her familiar bed and small chest for clothes sat on one side of the room, but (Y/N) could not look at them. Not because of her inability to control herself, no—the spinning wheel in the middle of the room was more immediately concerning.

            Well, that does it. I think this is the worst-case scenario.

            The spinning wheel was an ebony wood, carves with runes and little depictions of Loki and (Y/N)’s time together. Her heart clenched at the reminder of them more than it clenched at the fear of what was going to happen to her. For (Y/N)’s arm, unbidden, was raising as she continued forward, her hand level with the silver needle gleaming under the midnight moonlight.

            Wow…I must have offended Loki so much by refusing his offer that he cursed me. I knew he was petty.

            As much as (Y/N) tried to brush the severity of her situation aside, however, she knew the truth. Seeing her actions on the exact date the original curse was supposed to come to pass, she had thought back to that fateful day.

            I tried to protect Peter from the curse. I got hit instead, and the curse was general enough that it accepted me as the effected. (Y/N) wanted to be upset at herself, get annoyed for not realizing earlier or for stupidly moving to help Peter all those years ago, but she felt only pride and happiness.

            She had done something selflessly of her own free will. She had done something meaningful. She had protected Peter. Yes, it had unfortunately led to his moment where an endless sleep lay before her, but it was worth it.

            (Y/N) could only regret one thing as her finger touched the spindle—she would never be saved. Because True Love needed to be reciprocated, and she would never love whoever came for her. She loved Loki.

            A drop of blood beaded on her finger even as her eyes fluttered shut and she collapsed to the ground.

            I wish he loved me back.

#portal to my heart #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel mcu #marvel x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #au #disney au #disney #maleficent au #maleficent #sleeping beauty au #sleeping beauty

[the-lady-amphitrite]

— A FAIRYTALE BEGINNING | chapter 7

heart to heart

pairing: Loki /f!half-Asgardian!Reader

word count: 8,615

summary: winter or summer, you'll always find your way home

in this chapter: a cheek kiss from Loki, Reader being bi, overt references to missing/modified memories and lost time, more background lore, brief soulmate/soulmate bond discussion

author notes: i said i would post this tomorrow while i was at work and i lied. to be fair though, this chapter took way longer to write than i expected. the next one should (theoretically) not take as long to finish writing. the c plot in this one thickens. have fun!! and remember that if you want to read about the lore for this series to check out the end notes on ao3.

( previous chapter | read on ao3 | series masterlist )

You sigh as you dip your aching legs into the ice-cold water of the Sleipa River, the river that runs along the back of the palace.

Today’s weaponry lesson had been long, not to mention brutal while your father sought to test the limits of the god-sense you had told him helps you fend off attacks. He had wanted to see if he could figure out what your godhood is outside of the general concept of ‘war goddess’ that he believes you are.

Your father has trained you since you were old enough how to hold a knife and how to defend yourself with one. As the years passed and you grew, he also taught you how to handle short swords. And once you were old enough to be trained in the art of warfare, he taught you how to wield other weapons as well. Yet no one, not even your father, had been aware of your affinity for weapons. Not until that day so many months ago when you had wielded a bow like it was an extension of yourself.

So after today’s tactics lesson with General Hjǫrdís, your father had asked if you were willing to test out the extent of your ability. To see if there is a central point to the ability, a pattern in how it works to be seen, or a link to be found between your god-sense and your affinity with weapons.

The hours following hadn’t revealed anything you weren’t already aware of with your developing abilities. In sparring sessions with a partner, you performed far better, with little consideration for the weapon you were wielding. On your own, you tended to fare less well and lose far more often (not to mention far sooner, to your own annoyance).

Yet there were a few glimmering moments when you were on the retreat — moments away from losing a one-on-four sparring session — where your frustrations over your incoming defeat became overshadowed by something else. The desire to fight. The desire to prove that you are worthy of protecting the ones you love. Just as your family has done so in the past. And in those short, glimmering moments, your defence had turned into offence.

You ultimately had lost, but your father had praised you for turning the tide on your opponents even as briefly as you had. He revealed that that session was not one you were meant to win, as your opponents had been full-fledged einherjar rather than einherjar trainees. The defeat had stung a little less after his admission, but the loss still lodged itself in you as you stared up at him.

You are the only child of Týr Hymisson and Kára Leifsdóttir.

Your father is the General of Asgard’s Armies, a title earned not by nepotism but by his own merit. He is the God of War Formalities and Justice, and guardian of war-oaths. His words have stopped the bloodlust of war-makers in their tracks, his skills with weapons have put an end to marauders and reavers from the crown of Yggdrasil to the roots, and his mercy has tempered the sorrows of even the most vengeful of war-grievers.

Your mother is known as the Raven-Feeder, a kenning that speaks loudly of the sight of her on battlefields. Whether it’s by blade and shield, or by talon and tail, the stories of her battles are legendary, even to the old gods. She is not a goddess, but if she was, there is no doubt by anyone who knows her that she would be a Goddess of War.

On their own, they each are legends. Together, they leave you with a legacy you desperately wish to uphold.

It’s hard to remind yourself that you’re still just a child. You’re not expected to go to war and defend the Nine Realms of Asgard for another decade at the earliest. Not to mention that since the war against Jǫtunheimr, the Nine Realms have been at peace; no wars or coups from within the Nine Realms and no incursions from enemies beyond Yggdrasil’s reach.

The sudden gust of a hot breeze makes you grimace. It’s an unwelcome sensation, a contrast to the recent winter cold that has left this water so frigid here in the depths of the winter months. You glare up at the clear sky, hoping that whichever season or weather god that is pushing more summer-like weather down on the realm can feel the daggers you’re mentally throwing at them.

“You know they can’t see you,” Loki says, laying next to you on the stone walkway. She’s hiked the legs of her trousers up, letting the water chill everything up to her knees like you. Her eyes are closed, her hair splayed out like erratic halo spikes, and her hands are folded across her stomach as she lazily kicks her feet back and forth.

She’s placed her holotablet between the two of you and turned on music from some new Dvergr group that she’s discovered. It’s good music; less folk and more blues than the usual Dvergar groups you know of, the ones that are more popular and mainstream (and the ones most people know). The rhythm of their instruments, coupled with the lyrics, leads the song to have a melody that coaxes you into swaying side-to-side as the first song of this album ends and the next begins.

“If I glare hard enough, maybe they will,” you grouse. It’s a stubborn reply, and you watch one corner of Loki’s mouth curl up into a smile at your response. She turns her head towards you, opening her eyes halfway to look at you.

“And here I believed that you would be adamant for summer to arrive so that you might abscond off to the winter-wilds with the other Drekasál,” she says.

“I hate summer because it’s too long, and my family never wants to do anything fun while we’re up there,” you lament to her. Then you say softly, “I wish you and the others could come with us.”

The gentleness in her expression at your statement wraps its way around you like a warm blanket on a chilly day. Without her having to say the words, you know she wishes the same thing, and yet she says them all the same.

“I wish we could too. Summer isn’t as fun while you’re gone.”

You’re tempted — and not for the first time — to ask your family if you could stay here for the summer. Just this once, you’d like to spend the summer with your best friend and the small circle of friends you’ve carved out here in Valaskjálf.

“You’ve never explained why you and the others go to the winter-wilds each summer. You’re not like the dragons native to Nornheimr that breathe ice, so being too hot doesn’t seem like it would be a reason to leave each summer,” she muses.

She’s right. Nor are your people like the dragons native to Múspellsheimr since none of you can breathe fire. Only a small percentage of Drekasál have venom — the only other weapon one of your people might have besides tail, talons, and teeth. You’re not among them. In fact, you’re certain none of the Drekasál on Asgard has such a weapon at their disposal either.

The venom — or lack thereof — is another of the many differences between your people and the other dragons of the Nine Realms. With a whip-thin tail, a row of short spines that parade from the crown of your skull to the base of your tail, and two tall, elegant horns that spiral from your head, you can’t imagine a Drekasál ever being confused for anything other than what they are.

“I don’t really know,” you confess, turning your gaze to the other side of the river. “Every year we go north and spend the summer months there, but nothing is different. Mamma and Sveinn are the only ones I really see unless we visit one of the few villages up there. Sometimes I might see Gauti and Lady Ásta, but I never really see any of the others. I don’t think us being a conflagration will change that either.”

Her hand slides over the back of yours. She tucks her fingers in the space between yours. You look down at her, surprised by the action if the way your heart jumps into a faster rhythm is any indication. She’s staring up at you with wide dark eyes, smile gone.

“Stay,” Loki commands softly. “When the others leave, stay here.”

Despite the command, you can hear the plea she’s leaving left unspoken.

When the others leave, stay here with me and the others instead of going with them again.

Her plea leaves you speechless as it wraps its way around your heart. Something about the Princess of Asgard wanting you to stay instead of leave for the summer months again while it’s still the middle of winter makes you feel… loved. You love that your best friend will miss you (and seems to be preemptively missing you even) when there are still months to go before summer arrives and you’re meant to leave.

“I want to,” you tell her, not wanting to promise her you will. A promise would mean you know that you could. You don’t know if you can. The last thing you want to do is to hurt her with a careless promise.

With her free hand, Loki taps her holotablet’s screen. The music comes to an abrupt stop before she tucks it into her pocket dimension. You’re surprised when Loki pulls her feet out of the water, then turns so she can lay her head in your lap and takes your entwined hands so they lay over her stomach, your hand tucked safely between both of hers.

She closes her eyes, asking, “When do you leave this year?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her, taking your free hand and combing them through her dark hair. “No one’s said anything, but I don’t think I’m leaving anytime soon, darling.”

The endearment slips out, and you clamp your mouth shut as you feel your face warm up when your words catch up to you. Loki calls you ‘darling’ often when she’s not calling you Firefly, no matter which of her forms she’s presenting, but you’ve never once returned it with an endearment of your own. All of them have always felt a bit… off for her. Clumsy and incapable of conveying the nebulous tangle of emotions you have about the godling.

(Not that you’ve ever even tried attempting to untangle them. Any time you think about prying those feelings apart and examining them, you make yourself do something else.

Loki is your best friend. What more do you need to understand about what you feel for her than that?)

To your relief (or is this disappointment?), Loki doesn’t say anything about the endearment. She relaxes as you continue to comb your fingers through her hair, occasionally letting your nails scratch gently against her scalp.

You find yourself relaxing as you continue to finger-comb Loki’s hair and listen to the sounds all around. There’s the gentle lapping of the river against the stones of the palace, the rustle of the wind through the trees, the high humming of the skiffs beyond the trees, the chirp of the birds that never leave even in the dead of winter. You can even hear in the distance (very, very faintly) the sounds of several sets of wingbeats.

That would be your conflagration returning from day trips to villages across the realm. It’s nothing more than a routine check-in by the generals to the einherjar stationed in each, but everyone had gone beside you, Gauti, and Lady Katla. You and Gauti are still considered too small to carry a full-grown Æsir, so you both remained behind to go about your usual routines while the others were away. Lady Katla had also remained at Valaskjálf, watching over you and Gauti for most of the morning before returning to her duties as Frigga’s handmaiden after you left for your other lessons.

Several minutes pass, the sounds of their wingbeats growing louder before all nine of the Drekasál come soaring over the trees in an arrow formation. You wave up at them, but they’re gone so fast you’re not sure anyone in your conflagration noticed you down here with Loki. Even if they hadn’t, you’ll see them all at dinner after your lesson with Frigga.

“How long until class?” you ask Loki, returning your hand to her hair. She pulls her holotablet from her pocket dimension to display the time.

“Forty minutes,” she says before returning it. She looks up at you. “What are you thinking, Firefly?”

You still your hand, tilting your head to rifle through ideas before tentatively asking, “May I braid your hair?”

Loki smiles at you before sitting up, scooting closer while you turn so only one leg remains in the river as you set about braiding her hair.

The two of you spend the next half hour working on your Kree, working rapidly through a conversation about the recent theatre production for the play The Glass Wolf. You’re in the second year of your studies for Kree now. Conversational basics are easier now than they were a year ago, though conveying some ideas is more difficult due to the language lacking words for those thoughts.

When you finish tying off the last braid, Loki conjures up a small mirror. She turns her head from side to side, looking at the three braids descending each side of her head and the large braid that adorns the top. It’s one you’ve both seen the valkyrjur wearing. A smile breaks across her face as she turns her head back and forth a few more times, admiring the look.

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly. The mirror vanishes, and she turns to you. “Thank you.”

You go to tell her, ‘You’re welcome’, but before you can do more than smile, she leans in and kisses your cheek.

It’s brief, barely more than a whisper across your cheekbone, but the world stutters to a halt in your mind. The smile on Loki’s lips looks softer as she pulls away. You swear it somehow steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you speechless. The warmth that threads through you and wraps tender hands around your heart compels you to look away, leaving you staring down at the river water with a smile that grows with each passing second.

Loki reaches over, taking your hand and tugging you to your feet. She says, with that same soft smile, “We don’t want to be late for our lesson.”

You follow her, and a strange sense of loss fills you when she drops your hand. Part of you realises you’re going to miss her more than you usually do when you go to the winter-wilds this year. The rest of you can’t put into words why that might be.

The two of you head down the familiar tapestry-covered hall, side-by-side in comfortable silence. You stare at the tapestries absent-mindedly as you think about the ever-encroaching summer.

You stop suddenly.

Isn’t today your father’s birthday?

You remember (very vividly) buying the magical quill for him just a few weeks ago. The same day that you’d first seen Loki in her masculine form. And then it occurs to you that, just a few days after that, both Loki and Volstagg had their godnaming. You remember how it had taken weeks for Thor and Baldr to adjust to being referred to by their godhoods by others.

And yet, you so clearly remember how but a few hours earlier (after a rather harmless prank involving two goats, a golden platter, and a light fixture), Hallr had referred to Loki as the Goddess of Mischief. Loki had seemed so at ease with it when you clearly remember her having reservations about the title in the first few days following her godnaming.

Has it truly only been days since the godnaming then?

You stare down at your empty hands, palms up as you feel flickers of something… forgotten show you the shape of the quill box in your hand. You recognise and don’t recognise the faint echoes accompanying the phantom shape.

Loki calls your name, concern lacing through that single word as she stands in front of you.

You blink, disentangling yourself from your thoughts and returning to the present. You lick your lips, swallowing hard as you try to collect your voice.

“What month is it?” You ask her. Your voice sounds a bit hollow, a bit hoarse, a bit haunted.

True to form, your best friend (instead of asking why you’ve asked) answers, “Tomorrow is the first day of Harpa.”

Harpa. The first of the summer months.

Your brows furrow in confusion, mouth opening as you go to say, But Sóldauði isn’t even over. How is it Harpa?

You feel something rise in you, a wave of something that feels… it feels foggy.

You blink, brow smoothing out. Suddenly you can’t remember why you thought that today was your father’s birthday when the end of Sóldauði was months ago. It’s so silly to think that you had forgotten so much time!

The niggling feeling that you have refuses to fade. You can’t come up with the reason why it refuses to go away. The longer you focus on it, pressing against the fog, the more you’re certain that something… something…

Nothing is wrong. Time isn’t missing.

The words slam into your mind, heavier than the fog-like wave that had risen. They sink talons in, gripping tightly as the fog swirls heavier and thicker.

“What is it?” Loki asks, stepping closer to tuck your hands between hers as she tilts her head to look you in the eye. The contact breaks whatever is happening, fog dissipating and the talons disappearing.

“I—,” you choke out, stopping because you don’t want to explain to her the strange occurrence happening in your mind. You shake your head. “It’s nothing, nevermind.”

She tilts your chin up so you’re looking at her again, rather than the floor your eyes had fled to when you dismissed your words.

Her index finger is curled beneath your chin, thumb resting right below your lower lip. The sudden — rather intrusive — thought that you want her to run the digit across your lip springs to the forefront of your thoughts. The placement of those two fingers, the hand that holds both of yours, and the half-lidded look she’s staring at you with. Its enough for all of your thoughts to stutter to a complete halt.

“It cannot be nothing if you felt the need to ask, darling,” she almost murmurs. “Talk to me. What is bothering my brave Firefly?”

Several pieces — none of them related to your seeming loss of time — suddenly click into place as a strange yet wildly familiar feeling floods you. You realise (quite suddenly) the truth behind the tangle of what you feel. All because the Princess of Asgard, your best friend, called you hers.

Oh.

You’ve never put much thought into when Loki says it before; it’s become common enough over the last year for her to say you are her friend, her dragon, her sparring partner. You’d accepted it, embraced it even, without ever realising why you did so without much thought. It had even begun to feel different without you ever being able to explain why.

It feels like that day on the barrels, when you had observed her masculine form for the first time with a scrutiny that you never gave her other forms because you had grown so used to seeing her that way. It feels like so many of those moments recently where the sun’s warmth has pressed its way into your skin from her touch, leaving you momentarily shy and wordless.

Quite suddenly, and without any warning, you understand that the way you care about Loki isn’t as platonic as you’ve always assumed. The remarks made by both Thor and Baldr finally make sense. And then you realise that, were she to kiss you, you would kiss her back.

The unsteady beating of your heart seems to dance faster. You feel powerless to do anything but answer Loki in the wake of your little revelation.

“Truly it was nothing, Loki. I was only struck by the strange notion that today is my father’s birthday. Silly, right? Since Sóldauði was months ago and all.” You give her a half-smile and a shrug, trying to play off the matter that she’s focused on as you grapple with your realisation that has your heart spinning wildly.

Instead of shrugging it off with you, Loki frowns and moves her hand from your chin to cup your cheek. You know by her expression that she’s searching for the dissonance between your words and actions. This does nothing to help quell the quickening pace of your heart or the flustered feeling that warms your whole body.

You know this isn’t a moment to express to Loki how you feel, no matter how much your heart craves to know how she feels about you in return.

She says your name very softly, lacing it with a deep sense of worry before asking, “Do you remember my birthday?”

“Yes,” you reply instantly; the use of your name instead of ‘darling’ or ‘Firefly’ drives home how serious this moment is from Loki’s view. To prove that you remember, you lift her right hand and point to the long, serpentine bangle that covers most of her forearm. “Your birthday was in the middle of Eldingarnætr, coinciding with the first blizzard of the year. I commissioned you this bangle of a jǫrmunetinn straight from Niðavellir because you love stories about them and snakes. I asked the Dvergarnir specifically for nornaseiða uru, so you could enchant and disenchant the bangle without harming the integrity of the metal. You were delighted by the gift, among other things.”

A smile curls the edges of her lips, even as you watch her pick apart your words. “As I recall, I only said thank you for the bangle.”

“I saw the way you looked at me. You looked — ” you looked at me like I had hung the moons and stars around Asgard. You looked at me, and I never wanted you to look away. “… happy. Really happy.”

“I was, truly.” She drops her hands, and you let go of her arm. Her expression becomes more serious in an instant. “You remember my birthday but not your father’s, even though my birthday is later. You’re missing other memories, aren’t you?”

You freeze, wondering how she knows without you saying it. Part of you shrinks in, wanting to hide away the truth. Another (much larger) part wants to reach out to her, to confide in her so she can soothe you. You relent to that part of yourself.

“I don’t remember much of the time after your godnaming, especially this spring.”

The concern on her face deepens.

“May I look into your mind? I wish to see if I can find any anomalies that might be causing this,” she says. At the sight of your panicked expression, she hastily adds, “I won’t look around, you have my word.”

It surprises you how easily she promises not to go looking around your mind. Were this any other day, you wouldn’t mind her being in there, nor would you worry that she might look around a little more than necessary. You know Loki. You trust her with everything.

Except, for the first time, you have something you want to keep to yourself for a while longer, despite how much you wish to share it with her. Your little revelation is still too fresh (and too nerve-wracking) for you to feel comfortable letting her know about it just yet.

You gather it and a few other bits, locking them away in a chest in your mind. Loki will be able to sense it, but you know she won’t press you about it until you’re ready to share them.

You lean your head forward, closing your eyes. Loki’s hand — slightly calloused from all the weapons training — rests softly against your forehead. An ice-kissed breath seeps into your mind, her seiðr gently working its way across the surface of your recent memories. She lingers over a few seemingly at random before moving on. After a few moments, the feeling disappears, and her hand leaves your forehead.

You open your eyes, expecting Loki to have a semblance of an answer, only to be met with a guarded, mildly frustrated expression from the princess.

“I didn’t see anything I could understand,” Loki says, shaking her head. “Mamma will have answers. Shall we go?”

Without waiting for you to agree, she takes your hand and pulls you along behind her at a clipped pace.

You hope that Frigga can answer the gap in your memories. Not just for your sake but Loki’s as well.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

“Lady Kárudóttir?” a voice calls out from behind you.

You blink, your eyes focusing on what’s in front of you as you’re pulled back into the present from wherever your mind had wandered off to as you stood here.

Here. Where is here exactly?

Before you is a window taller than you are, segmented by pale-grey wood; beyond the window is an expanse of shining white, bordered in the near distance by ruffled shapes in dark greys. It takes only a moment for you to realise they’re pine trees. A tree that isn’t found within the city of Asgard, only in the winter-wilds themself.

You’re in the winter-wilds. Summer has come, and Harpa has gone while you wander the permanently-snowy lands of the realm’s far-distant north. The last few months are blurry with various events, but you do (vaguely) recall your departure from Asgard with your conflagration.

You remember (a bit more clearly) your arrival at Bliksalir, the hall your mother had been gifted by your father after they became heartmates. It’s located in the heart of the winter-wilds’s tundra. The entire conflagration had stopped there after the long journey north to rest for the evening. It had surprised you the next morning when your mother and uncle had essentially told you to wander where and with whom you please this summer. You seemed to have surprised them when you chose to leave with Gauti and Lady Ásta after breakfast.

You had only spent a few days with them before you had flown off, exploring the winter-wilds and observing the world for the first time on your own. The scant few villages that existed in the tundra had been more curious about seeing a lone dragonling wandering, but they had all left you alone.

Eventually, you had turned south, leaving the tundra of the winter-wilds at the height of Miðár for the forest of the far north. To your own surprise, you had run into Lady Katla and her heartmates — Lord Ivarr Gunnarsson and Lady Brynja Rúnadóttir — just a week later. Lady Katla had invited you to return to their hall with them, to spend some time with them before you continue your wandering. That’s where you are now, where you have been for the last several hours.

The knot of tension relaxes, unfurling now that you remember where you are. There’s a question that rises, only to disappear like a wisp of smoke as soon as the words pass through your mind. None of them stick, so you can’t help but assume that the question wasn’t important.

You turn, looking at the wide bench table that rests in the middle of the room before sweeping your eyes across the room swiftly and returning your gaze to the table. Lady Katla sits there patiently, the pieces for a game of hnefatafl laid out and the game clearly in the midst of being played.

You aim a broad smile at the drekakona, saying, “You insist that I call you Lady Katla, and yet you would be so formal towards me?”

Lady Katla lets out a huff of a laugh. “You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear me the first three times, drekabarn.”

You duck your head with a sheepish grin. “My apologies, my lady. I’m not sure where my mind wandered off to.”

Lady Katla lets out a soft hmm, staring back at you with searching pale eyes before gesturing with long fingers back to the other side of the bench. You take your seat, staring at the board after she tells you it’s your move. You pick up one of your defenders at random and move it. Lady Katla stares at the board for silently before moving one of her attackers. For several long, silent minutes this is how the two of you play. You moving your defenders as you try to get your king to safety, and Lady Katla moves her attackers to try to capture your king.

“Have you given thought to my question?” Lady Katla asks suddenly, breaking the silence filled only by the sound of the fireplace.

“Which question?” you ask. When you look up, you find Lady Katla’s eyes still on the board, scanning it as she chooses her next move.

“Eldgard. Have you ever thought about visiting?” When she looks up you shake your head. “You should. I think it would benefit you to.”

“Benefit me? How so?” You ask as she moves her next piece. You quickly counter it, hearing a surprised noise made by the drekakona at your move choice. You watch as she toys with her necklace pendant, the shining rune-carved metal catching your eye as she twists the chain. You can only assume it’s a mindless gesture from how often you’ve seen her do it over the years.

“How much do you know of our laws, our history? I doubt it’s much since you’ve been raised on Asgard. Have you ever even left the realm? Met other dragons outside of our conflagration?” Her rapid-fire questions send your hackles up. The implication that you don’t know anything simply because you’ve been raised here on Asgard stings. Does she believe your mother and uncle have shirked teaching you about the laws that govern your life? You are a Drekasál first and foremost, not an Æsir. You carry their power, but you are not one of them.

“I know plenty,” you bite out. “I may not have ever left the realm or met other Drekasál, but I assure you that I’ve learnt plenty about our people.”

Her eyes narrow, and while they don’t shift to ones that imitate her dragon eyes, the action causes you to shrink in on yourself.

“Careful, drekabarn. You might outrank me but your attitude towards simple questions leaves much to be desired still.” Her words sound like a warning. Your jaw tightens as you look down at the hnefatafl board, shoulders stiff. “I was under the impression that Lord Alfarr had covered Asgard’s shared history with our people by now. Is that not the case?”

“He did.” Your tone is clipped, so you take a breath to even it out before you continue. “We’ve covered the beginning of the Æsir-Drekasál alliance up to just after the end of the war against the Kree Empire during All-Father Buri’s reign.”

“Did he not bring in guests for any of the lessons? He’s well known for bringing a few in,” Lady Katla comments, leaning back in her seat. She still hasn’t moved her next piece, her eyes still on you.

“Our Kree tutor, Doctor Kheiron, attended several lessons.”

“No Drekasál?” You shake your head in reply, and her brow furrows. “Odd. I thought… hmm.”

“Thought what?” You watch as she leans against the table, covering her mouth with one hand as she continues to fiddle with her pendant in the other.

“Normally he asks for one of our conflagration to attend his lessons as well. We can’t add much that he doesn’t already know, but none of us were born on Asgard. We lived elsewhere for centuries before deciding to make the realm our home.”

“There were others on Asgard before the war, weren’t there?” Your question is softer, more hesitant. Her eyes turn back to you, staring solemnly before she nods. You had had a feeling that might be the truth for the last few years. That something had happened after the war against Jǫtunheimr for Asgard to have so few Drekasál. “Where did they go?”

Her hands drop to the table, a bittersweet look on her face as she tells you, “Most of them were lost on the battlefields. Others left with the then-Prince Njálsson after he announced the late King Randvísson had taken a fatal blow. Our prince was soon to be our king, and many decided to return to their Wing rather than remain abroad.”

“What about you? Or my family? Or the rest of our conflagration?” You ask. She places the tip of her index finger on one of her attackers, rocking the little einheri figure back and forth. She’s quiet for so long you’re almost certain she won’t answer, but then she lets out a sigh and begins to speak again.

“Lady Leifsdóttir loves General Týr, she’s happy with him. Lord Einarsson is very traditional when it comes to his views on soulmates, and thus remains here for her. I stay because Frigga is here, and so my brother Tórbjǫrn remains as well. It’s not a secret that Ásta stays to be near Gauti’s father, whichever Æsir that might be. The rest have their own reasons.”

Questions spring to the tip of your tongue, begging to be asked, but the look on her face stays them. So you redirect your question, asking, “What’s it like? Being able to see colour?”

She lets out a happy-sounding hmm as she finally moves her attacker.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve been able to see since the day I came of age. So many of my first experiences were with my twin at my side, so having my first experience with colour being his face?” She makes vague, nonsensical gestures with her hands before letting her hands fall back to the table with a smile and a shrug.

“Oh,” you say. You’d been hoping for something… more. You’re not exactly sure what ‘more’ might be. Maybe about what it had felt like for her bond to snap into place, or maybe how the world seemed the same and yet so different once she could see colours.

But then you decide to ask anyway. Lady Katla has (compared to some members of your conflagration) always been far more forthcoming when you ask her questions. So you do, asking her first about her soulmate bond and then about how she had adjusted being able to see colour. The conversation continues on about soulmates, with each of your questions being answered the best that Lady Katla seems to be able to.

Eventually, you reach the one question you’ve never dared ask your mother. You hesitate before asking, worried about how Lady Katla might take your question when you ask it. A gentle hand on your shoulder makes you look up at Lady Katla’s face.

“You can ask me whatever it is,” she tells you.

It takes several long heartbeats for you to ask, “Why can’t we find our soulmate before maturity?”

Lady Katla blinks, clearly caught off guard by your question. She takes a long drink from her tankard before sitting forward and refilling it from the pitcher of sweet mead on the table. She takes another drink (this one more of a sip) before answering your question.

“I don’t know.” When you don’t ask another question, she realises you’re waiting for her to explain further. “There’s only one theory about it that I know of. The caster, whoever or whatever they were, made it that a condition of the spell when they cast it. I assume that’s something a magic user can do anyway, I don’t understand magic.”

“It is,” you confirm. “Conditional parameters can be bound to a spell during incantation. You can add them as you’re casting, but you can’t take any that you’ve added away once they’ve been added to the spell.”

You pause and then add, “It’s different if you’re using seiðr though. Seiðr’s a lot more fluid than magic, and works more on a god’s will or intent than an incantation.”

Lady Katla blinks, seeming to take in that statement. To make your point, you hold up your hand and create a simulacrum of the brooch on her cloak from earlier. She gasps, prodding the copy in your palm.

“Remarkable. You could show everyone the way you see the world by doing that,” she mutters. You shrug, letting go of the seiðr threads as you drop your hand back on the table.

After that, you ask yet another question about soulmates, this time about pairs living outside of Asgard, and the conversation carries on. Amid all your questions, your game of hnefatafl gets abandoned as the two of you relocate from the table to the plush seats near the fire. Your conversation eventually shifts from questions about soulmates to Lady Katla asking about your studies and the two of you swapping stories.

You’re relaying the end of a story about a prank you’d helped Loki pull on their brothers, when you hear the sound of the hall’s front door being opened. A booming voice calls out for Lady Katla, and you watch her face light up in the way it only does for Tórbjǫrn. She abandons her tankard on the table, flying out of the room shouting her brother’s name.

You follow along slowly, leaning against the rooms doorframe as you watch the drekakona tackle her brother into a hug. As you stand there, you watch how the two of them interact. Two soulmates who, for a moment, revolve only around one another. There’s a quiet longing in your bones that you’ve never felt before as you watch the two of them.

Next year you will visit the Weavers for the little prophecy they give all Drekasál after they’ve turned fifteen. It’s a small step (a very small one) to becoming a drekakona rather than a drekabarn. It will be at least another five years after that before you reach maturity. Before you can begin the quest to find your soulmate. So close when you consider how long your life will be, and yet so far at the same time.

You close your eyes, a smile on your face as you listen to them before quietly turning around and returning to your seat by the fire.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

As you crest the top of the mountains just outside the City of Asgard you cease beating your wings. It’s more than an hour until dawn begins. Below you, the city is dark, occasionally broken by the few open shops, the braziers littered around the city, and the movement of torches carried by patrolling einherjar and valkyrjur.

You glide down, aiming to land on a terrace at the edge of the city next to one of the lone braziers. Using your seiðr, you muffle the sound of you landing on the stone. Tucking your wings close, you shift back into your Æsir form and tug the hood of your cloak low. You don’t want anyone to see your face as you take off down streets and stairs towards the Palace of Valaskjálf.

The streets are quiet as you quickly make your way down the largest of the City of Asgard’s boulevards. The silence of the early dawn hour is broken by only a few sounds; the soft clicks of your shoes against the stone road, the sharp clacks of a horse headed in the opposite direction as you, and the steady sounds of the bakery you’re passing by as they prepare for another day.

You’re coming home early. None of the others have even started their journey home and wouldn’t for at least another week. You’ve missed the city. You’ve missed the noises, the smells, the sights. You’ve missed your father, your friends, and your cousin. You’ve missed the sounds of their laughs, the tenor of their voices, and the sight of their faces.

You’ve missed Loki, and strangely enough, the nebulous feelings that the youngest royal constantly arises in you.

Missing each of them (Loki especially) is why you chose to come home now, in the middle of Haustmánaðr. Your mother and uncle won’t be arriving for at least a couple more weeks, at the beginning of Ískristalmánaðr. They’ve always brought you home then, so you can’t imagine them coming home any sooner. It gives you time to bask in these last, lesson-less weeks before things pick back up. You’re not looking forward to returning them just yet.

You approach the end of the boulevard quickly, coming up to the left entrance of Valaskjálf. Two einherjar are stationed at this entrance, watching you as you approach. As you get close, you pull down the hood of your cloak, letting them see your face in the torchlight.

“Lady Kárudóttir!” the one to the left exclaims when he recognises your face.

“Einherjar,” you say as they both bow their heads to you. “Where might I find my father?”

“He should still be in his quarters having breakfast, my lady,” the one on the right informs you. You nod, passing by them both with a quick ‘thank you’. You head inside and up to your home within the palace. There’s almost no one up and about just yet and (with a quick minor illusion to hide your appearance) you make it to your destination without any problems.

Once you (quietly) close the doors, you drop the illusion, shifting your seiðr to muffle the sound of your shoes. You make your way down the main hall, listening for any sounds of your father. Approaching your family’s private dining room, you hear him speak. With a smile on your face, you pause outside of the doorway, listening in.

“How is she?” Týr asks.

Before you can wonder who he’s speaking to, you hear your mother’s voice. The light distortion tells you he’s speaking with her through his holotablet.

“I still don’t know. No one’s seen her since she left Lady Rúnadóttir’s hall over a month ago.”

“Are you worried?” he asks. You know from experience that he’s asking if he should be worried too. He’s always followed your mother’s lead when it comes to you. Your seiðr and appearance make it easy for you to pass as an Ásynja, but you’re not. Not truly. You are a Drekasál, and you are all that comes with being a dragon at heart.

“No, not yet. She’s sharp, she’s stayed in her dragon shape when she’s alone like we taught her to.”

We. Your uncle must be right there with her, even if you haven’t heard him.

“Send me a raven when you hear something, will you?” Your father requests. You can hear the undercurrent of worry in his voice. Too late, you realise perhaps you should have spent more time with the other Drekasál rather than wandering alone for all those weeks.

There’s that soft, fond-sounding short-hum noise your mother often makes when speaking to your father. It’s how she agrees with him, so you can imagine the nod that always accompanies the noise.

Once their goodbyes are said, you disenchant your shoes and walk around the doorway. You chirp out, “Good morning, Babba.”

The fork your father had lifted clatters back onto his plate as he surges to his feet. With a joyful shout of your name, he opens his arms, engulfing you in a hug. You let out a soft laugh as you press your cheek firmly against the cold metal of his armour’s breastplate. You’ve missed how warm his hugs always are.

After several moments he releases you from the hug. The two of you sit together for a quiet breakfast, and he asks about your summer.

You tell him about how you spent most of it wandering the winter-wilds alone, about your extended stay with Lady Katla, her heartmates, and her brother. You tell him about your trips into the villages scattered across the winter-wilds, about the Æsir living there and how they always treated you warily but kindly. You show him the sketchbook you had kept on you the whole summer, sketching out the various plants and wildlife you encountered to show to Frigga when you see her next.

Every story you tell him is met by your father’s rapt attention. He asks curious, pointed questions. Each one draws more details out from you as you continue to whittle away the time before he has to leave for his office for the day.

When that time comes, he hugs you again, telling you to enjoy yourself now that you’re home. Before he walks out of your family’s suite, he even leaves you with strict instructions to relax. It makes you laugh, but you promise him that you will.

When the door shuts behind him, you head towards your room and pick up the holotablet you had left here for the summer. You have a lot to catch up on now that you’re home.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

When you finally leave your family’s suite, it’s late in the afternoon. It’s still summer, but despite that, you know that Loki has kept up their daily meetings with Frigga. If not for seiðr lessons, then at least to help care for the All-Mother’s garden.

You flip through the pages of your sketchbook as you step into the lift just down the hall, descending from your family’s rooms to the ground floor. It’s strange how the quiet hum of the lift as it descends is both so familiar and yet so loud. The quiet of the winter-wilds is so different from the quiet here in the palace. It’s always an adjustment when you return at the end of each summer.

Outside of your father and the two einherjar you encountered on your way in, no one else in the palace knows you’re home yet. You told your father over lunch that you want to surprise your friends this evening, much as you’d surprised him this morning.

He’d let out a chuckle at that, looking like he wanted to say something about that decision, before telling you that he’d told your mother that you’d shown up at home. You’d grimaced, apologising to him for not letting her know that you were headed home.

“You’re a dragon,” he’d said in resignation. “I’ve learnt from your mother that I have to give you more freedom than I would if you were just an Æsir child, much as I sometimes wish not to.”

Lunch had ended on that note, accompanied by a hug and him saying he would see you at the dining hall for dinner. After he left, you had gone out to the pavilion and taken a seat against one of the columns. This pavilion is higher than the one your conflagration uses, letting you see even farther out across the city. You took in the bright sky and gleaming city, the late summer sun warming you while you waited out the afternoon.

The lift lets out a light ping as it reaches the ground floor. You step off, holding your sketchbook (now shut) to your chest as you check both sides of the hall before setting off towards your seiðr classroom. There’s a genuine excitement you feel about the chance to show off your sketchbook’s contents to the seiðkona. She was thrilled by them last year, and you’re hoping to replicate that moment again when you arrive at the door in a few minutes.

When you reach the door to her classroom, you stop, clutching the sketchbook tighter as you stare at the door for several moments. You knock on the dark door with the side of your fist, waiting only a few moments before the door glides open.

No one stands on the other side. When you walk in, you see Frigga and Loki at the table on the other side of the room. Their heads are bent over an open book, quietly speaking as they take turns pointing at the pages.

You stand there quietly, a gentle smile curling up the edges of your lips. Your eyes are trained on the Princess of Asgard as you note the changes in her appearance from your summer gone. She’s less than four months shy of her sixteenth birthday now. It’s hard for you to believe that you’ve only known her for seven years; you feel like you’ve known her your whole life. You want her to notice you, but you’re just as content to stand here and watch her.

When Loki finally turns her head, her face immediately lights up at the sight of you. When she says your name, your smile turns into a grin, and she all but sprints across the room to pull you into a tight hug. You laugh as your feet leave the ground, wrapping your arms around her neck as she twirls the two of you a few times before setting you back on the ground.

You go to pull away once your feet are firmly on the ground, but Loki’s arms tighten their hold, tugging you closer as she tucks her face against your neck. Something in you flutters, and you press your forehead into her shoulder.

When she pulls away, she places her hands on either side of your neck, thumbs resting on your cheeks as she looks you in the eye. Her dark eyes glitter with happiness as she asks, “When did you get home? We weren’t expecting you home for weeks.”

“This morning, before dawn. I decided to come home early.”

Loki lets out a light laugh, pulling you into another hug. This time her arms wrap around your shoulders, but she tucks her head between her arm and your neck. You wrap your arms around her, letting your hands rest against her back as you tuck your face into her neck. You feel like you’re basking in sunlight again, warming you from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes.

Here in her embrace, you finally feel like you’re home.

After Loki finally decides to release you from the hug, you and Frigga greet other. You hand over the sketchbook you had dropped, watching Frigga scour this summer’s drawings and complimenting you on the pages. She makes no remark about how you’ve shaded the different flora and fauna, but you recognise the look as the one you often catch on Loki’s face. It’s a sharp sort of inquisitiveness, full of questions and observations. It makes you wonder what your monochromacy missed that she can see.

As she pages through, a little chiming tone begins to play softly from Frigga’s bracelet. It’s a sound you recognise well; it’s time to go outside and tend to the garden. She closes your sketchbook, placing it on the table beside the book she and Loki had been looking at when you walked in.

“Ready for the garden?” Frigga asks, already walking past the hanging plants and heading into her garden.

“Definitely,” you reply with a broad smile. You and Loki follow behind, kicking off your shoes as you pass beneath the hanging plants. Loki takes your hand in hers, the two of you giggling as you take off at a light run past her mother and into garden.

( next chapter )

 @ladydracona​ @huntress-artemiss​ @sarahscribbles​

Find the lore notes for this chapter here!

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #a fairytale beginning #the prince and his dragon #of fire and of ice #amphi writes

[latent-thoughts]

I honestly agree with you on everything after ragnarok is not canon. Although I love Thor ragnarok, it’s an entertaining movie and ive seen it more times then I should, thinking about it now I’ve never seen Thor ragnarok as canon. it’s just been a movie that’s really shitty but entertaining, and funny when you don’t have context about the characters.

I just hate that it’s so disrespectful to the actual characters. AND what’s even worse, is that I did not even consider the movie disrespectful to the characters until I was on tumblr and found threads of old posts/things you’ve reblogged on why it is.

And everything after it, has come tumbling after.

People need to realise there’s a difference between entertaining cinema, vs actual good Quality cinema. Especially with something like marvel because it’s all “connected”. Marvel is choosing quantity over quality and it’s clearly showing.

Yup. Marvel-Disney has become the 'Five Minute Crafts' of movie making. They're pumping out multiple shows and movies annually, but there's hardly any substance to them anymore. Nothing actually connects in this so-called cinematic universe, but the promos and interviews will try to fool you into believing it.

There's no cohesive story, only easter eggs abound. They're mostly meaningless, because most of them have their roots in different storylines in the comics, not the movies. Like, wtf was Thanoscopter doing in the Loki series? Or why was Sylvie wearing the broken crown (which was originally worn by AoA Loki for very specific reasons)?

Moreover, every new entity boasts of bringing in a drastic change into the multiverse or having a powerful character like no other before them. Yet, all of this is forgotten in the next entity they release. Rinse repeat.

The problem with Ragnarok was that it wanted to be funnier and bigger than GOTG--a movie that somewhat broke the mold for MCU movies at that time. It constituted an unlikely team of antiheroes who became heroic, and it had a more zany kind of humour to it.

What Ragnarok didn't note was that GOTG had heart. It had zany humour, yes, but it also had plenty of poignant moments. It didn't make a joke out of everything, most certainly not the characters. Every character was handled carefully, their trauma and loss acknowledged despite their negative actions.

Ragnarok failed supremely at this. Bruce turned into a parody of anxiety attacks and 'useless' nerdiness (7 PhDs but can't fly a ship, haha). Loki--a character of a subjugated race, taken from his people, raised to hate his own race, a clear victim of Asgard's imperialistic and colonial agenda, was made fun of for simply existing. His trauma was ignored, his relationship to Thor was twisted to make Thor into a victim, and instead, his main oppressor, Odin, was glorified despite his war crimes and invasions. What more, the fact that Thor left Loki to die on Sakaar was glossed over and made into a joke. Valkyrie (she still doesn't have a name, even post l&t) was introduced as a slave trader (does anyone find it sus that a woman of colour was shown as a slave trader?) and this part of her life was never acknowledged again, not even by Bruce, even though she traded the hulk to the GM.

Thor...sigh, where do I even begin? Gone was the considerate and thoughtful Thor we had seen in TDW, the Thor who acknowledged his father's bad decisions and tried to counter them by putting his own life on the line. Gone was the Thor who held his dying brother in his arms and cried. Granted, canon Thor had his issues to overcome, but he was never crass and inconsiderate like Ragnarok Thor. Ragnarok not only uprooted Thor from his growing self awareness and growth, it uprooted him wholly from Asgard. Killed off his friends and killed off his home. And made a joke about it all.

There's so much more to say about that trash movie and it's confused purpose, but all in all, it put the first nail into the whole franchise' coffin. L&T is only a continuation of that, based in the same theme of ridicule and distasteful humour.

What rankles is that it could've been a great movie, had Chris and Taika taken their heads out of their respective asses for a bit to think it over. But they were too busy making toilet level jokes and jerking around the sets, ignoring the script (which btw had Thor admitting to his mistakes to Loki) and just improvising everything with their bs logic. Taika didn't even do his research on the characters.

And that's something he's proud of. A theme that has continued with the creators in other Marvel entities too.

I just feel very sad about it. Because phase 1 (even 2) Marvel was something if quality. Now, the characters these phases had established are either (unfairly) dead or completely unrecognisable. I no longer have any sense of anticipation for their new stuff. I don't even want to watch new movies or shows.*

Anyhow, thanks for visiting my askbox. ♥️

*Moon Knight is the only exception, and you'd note the show had no prominent easter eggs or even mentions of other characters from the MCU. Mayhe there's something to be said about that.

#anon ask #ask #ask box #mcu #Ragnarok #mcu loki #mcu thor #thor: love and thunder #thor: ragnarok

[eclipsecrowned]

Show put me back on my Dream/Loki au bullshit so please consider: Yule with The Fam feat @loptgangandi & @sinnhelmingr

Loki having not celebrated in so long, and Dream is not big on holidays himself, though he allows celebration among his servants and dreamers. And then Hel rolls up and asks Dream if she can set up a one such celebration, although small, for her father. Dream allows it, and sets aside a chamber for her to decorate and make of it what she will.

She sets it up like the Yules she knew as a child not in Asgard but her mother's hall, and has Merv roll in a ton of wine, allowing him a few bottles as payment. And she picks her finest, brightest dress, and wears a lovely crown not unlike a holiday wreath, and she makes damn sure Vali and Narvi also look their best, and asks only that Dream find a way to divert her father to this room.

It's... all a surprise. She doesn't want to have her father be suspicious.

And Dream agrees, though both are amazed by it, and plays into little deceptions. Asks his houseguest to seek out one of the many rooms in Ghost Castle, saying that there is a matter there of which he thinks Loki could help greatly. And however he says it, Loki believe it, and his steps lead him down endless halls, all the way to the promised room.

He enters to soft candlelight and the scent of good food,and his daughter standing there radiant with her younger brothers to either side of her. Happy Yule, Papa, they greet  him, and the night is theirs to celebrate.

There's much talking, story telling, drinking, joking, everything they should have had for centuries. And it's merry and bright, and they are properly a family, though pieces are missing. But honestly? Loki's children could not ask for more than this. And when the wine is drink and the candles are little more than pooled wax, when the boys find themselves exhausted in the Dreaming, they bid their father farewell, and Hel sends them on their way. She, too, departs, trying not to be selfish and demand more time of her father than her charges did. And she kisses his cheek, and says she cannot wait for the next holiday. It's a beautiful promise between those who have, until recently, had no stomach for such hope.

But she makes her own way out, properly, stopping by to thank her host properly, offering him whatever he desires in recompense. He asks nothing of her -- it was a trifling thing, and she cleaned up after herself, and was a proper guest. He cannot ask more of her than that. And so he sends her off, and off she goes, though having left some of the wonderful wine for him on a table just beyond his throne room. She will thank him, one way or another.

They do it again the next year, and the next. Always the wine, and the celebration. As time goes on, perhaps more join them -- Hel's servants, who were her family when she had none, and certain members of Dream's household who Loki has become fond of.  Abel has terrible table manners, but the Three know that he tries, and a drunken Vali is most amusing when he tries to argue literature with Lucien. It becomes such an affair, and a sign that life is moving on, that this family is reaching out to others, that not a one of them need ever be lonely again.

Finally, the fourth year, the Yule after Orpheus' terrible demise, the Yule after Loki and Dream finally became closer.... He joins him. it is tense, for one long moment, but Dream samples some of Gangloti's fine meal, and he asks after the cook. Ponders for one long moment.  Says it's a bit dry, but he.. quite likes it. Hel cannot help but laugh at him for it. It breaks the ice, and Dream does not lash out for her response. It helps everyone along.  

It is also, perhaps, the first time Dream is in this family in some small way.

#dreamlokitbt #a dream itself is but a shadow. [ DREAM OF THE ENDLESS ; headcanon ]

[puckwritesstuff]

What if... at the time when Loki was crowned King, instead of helping Thor come back, the Warrior's Three, Lady Sif, Heimdall, and Sigyn accepted what happened and helps Loki in his rule?

Loki would have to be very careful to walk that line. Convincing them that it was Thor's own fault that he's stuck on Midgard, convincing them that Odin falling into the Odin-sleep had nothing to do with him, convincing them that he needs their help... But then again, we are talking about Prince Loki the Cunning.

Thank you for the ask!

---

Volstagg, Hogun, and Lady Sif were in Fandral’s healing room. Fandral was out, sleeping off the heal. Lady Sif sighed.

“Something is not right,” she said.

“Our friend almost died, Thor is gone, and now you think something is not right?” Volstagg said. “We should never have let him go.”

“We could not stop him,” Hogun said.

Sigyn and Loki quietly came into the room.

“How is he?” Sigyn asked.

“Alive, thanks to you, my lady,” Volstagg said. “If you had not called your father…”

“I know,” she said. “I regret not doing it sooner.”

Loki walked over to Fandral’s bedside.

“This never should have happened,” Loki said. “Thor was far too reckless this time.”

“It’s hardly the first near-death experience we’ve had,” Lady Sif said.

“Thor’s actions have led to the Jotuns threatening war,” Loki said.

“Let them come,” Volstagg said. “What army can stand against the full might of Asgard?”

Loki shook his head. “I can’t let that happen.”

Sigyn put a hand on his arm.

“Your father does not often heed your advice,” Hogun said. “How do you plan to intervene?”

“My father is not the one that I need to convince,” Loki said. “Or, at least, Odin isn’t.”

Fandral stirred, waking up.

“What’s going on?” he muttered.

“That’s what we’re wondering,” Lady Sif said, crossing her arms.

Loki closed his eyes. “Father has fallen into the Odin-sleep. I am to rule in his stead until he wakes.”

Sigyn took his hand in hers. The other four were stunned silent.

“I understand that your trust in me is not what it is in Thor,” Loki said. “But if I could ask for your support as I take the throne. We cannot allow this transition to give the appearance of a weakness in Asgard’s power, that will only encourage the Jotuns to strike again.”

“You sound like my father,” Fandral muttered.

“My apologies,” Loki said.

“What about Thor?” Lady Sif asked. “Will he be returning?”

Loki paused, looking away.

“Banishing Thor was Odin’s last order,” Sigyn said. “To reverse it now would reek of despotism. There must be a continuity of government.”

“I have Heimdall watching Thor’s movements on Midgard,” Loki said. “If there is any real danger, he will be protected.”

“He’s not coming back?” Volstagg asked.

“Mother thinks that Father put in a fail safe,” Loki said. “Some sort of return marker, that proves he is ready to come home. If I could bring him back, I would.”

“The line must be secure,” Hogun said. “Which, of course, brings us to securing the line.”

He glanced at Sigyn, and Loki stepped away from her.

“We are not in that much of a crisis,” Loki said.

“We are on the brink of war with Jotunheim,” Lady Sif said.

“We are not going to war with Jotunheim,” Loki said. “I will make certain of it.”

He looked to Sigyn.

“Someday,” he said. “But not now.”

He left the room and Sigyn watched him go.

“He’s an idiot,” Fandral said.

“He’s our king,” Hogun said.

“What are you talking about?” Sigyn asked.

“Sigyn, he’s been in love with you for ages,” Fandral said. “It’s why I left him, to let him pursue you. Now go after him.”

She gasped and rushed out of the room. Loki was a little way down the hall.

“Loki!”

He turned at the sound of her voice. She crashed into him, her arms around his shoulders, and she kissed him. His arms were suddenly around her waist as he kissed back.

“Don’t wait,” she breathed. “I’ve waited for a thousand years. We don’t have to, not anymore.”

He blinked, his mind still reeling. She was in his arms, and she had just kissed him.

“A thousand years?” he said.

“I love you, Loki,” she said. “And you don’t have to wait, not any longer.”

“I’m… Jotun,” he said, under his breath in case there was anyone listening.

“I don’t care,” she said. “Loki, I have courted trolls, goblins, a dragon, and a few Jotun besides.”

“You didn’t know that they were those things,” Loki said.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Sigyn said. “Be honest with me, and I will love you for the rest of my life.”

“Be honest with you?” Loki said. “Sigyn, I’m the God of Lies.”

“And yet I always know when you lie,” she said.

He smiled. “Let me speak with your father, and my mother. If you really will have me, I… I would be honored to ask for your hand.”

She kissed him again, and his worries that his friends would have seen right through the scheme fell away. He had done it. Perhaps not as planned, perhaps with a little more power than he had anticipated, but he had the throne, and more importantly, he had her.

And nothing was going to take her from him.

#prompt #fanfiction #loki #sigyn #sif #fandral #hogun #volstagg #logyn #loki x sigyn #Love Duty and Glorious Purpose fic #LDGP King Loki AU