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g-w-3-d-damn · 6 years ago

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A Rage That None Could Carry

Fan Sequel to All That He Wants. Prequel to All That He Has. )(6L1T) The hill witch meets Avenger Loki in the 6L1T universe and makes him unpack his emotional baggage. Words: 5,000. Rated: ?. Post-Infinity War AU, breeding kink, intersex Loki(s), a harem of childbearing Lokis, female body functions, reproductive issues, angst, Mpreg(Does intersex count as M?), angst, Loki harem, intersex Lokis, whump, fertility struggles, mention of: slight gore, bigotry, Thanos, torture, unethical/sexual medical experiments, monsters, idiot-Thor. Read the warnings for the other stories before diving in. I didn’t mean to get this dark but it ends on a hopeful note. Also there’s no sex unless I write a bit after this.

Munin cawed at the five left in the seraglio. Royal Loki looked to Munin in alarm as the corvid brought them news that their barren fellow Loki had taken the bifrost to visit the witches of the hills. The harem gathered around this messenger, asked questions.

According to the raven, there is a witch in the forest which is part of no coven; childless, a keeper of secret women's magic. Her evil magic could rot the land, or sterilize those that even fertility gods had blessed. Her magic could also stop the body from changing through pregnancy, leaving a mother to look young forever. She can make pregnancy painless, make pregnancy happen even against the other gods' curses. All the Lokis know her name, as it is prophesied that she would raise the most monstrous of Loki's offspring. Her titles preceded her; the plague of the deep woods, the barren mother of monsters, the witch of the hills, the hag: Angerboda.

“To that old hillbilly?” Ragnarok Loki scoffed, “She's truly not worth all the trouble, he'll be back all too soon.”

“I suspect you wrong,” Dark Loki said, “Remember the last words he said before he left our chamber?”

“Thor's child, how can it be anything but worth it?” Munin mimicked.

The harem looked at itself critically.

“What do each of you think is best?” Royal Loki asked.

“We should tell Thor,” Young Loki said.

“No,” Infinity Loki said, “No that's the last thing we should do. It's not Thor's decision.”

“Then we wait for him to return,” Dark Loki said.

Ragnarok Loki took a seat with his resting bitch face and thought you simply can't let me have my moment, can you, you just have to ruin it, don't you, you little pest? I swear if you come back here and announce that you are pregnant, I will announce my engagement at your wedding and die at your funeral, just try me.

Royal Loki smirked and patted Ragnarok Loki on the shoulder.

“To be fair, deep down if we didn't like to be choked we wouldn't all be the insufferable little shits we are,” Royal Loki knowingly joked.

-------

Avenger Loki crept over the fallen leaves to the front door of the witch's hillbilly hovel with trepidation.

“Get out'n come in!” the hag hollered from within.

Loki paused.

“Which do you-”

“Come on in,” she said.

The fat witch dressed in plain midgardian clothes. A baggy t-shirt half-covered the blue jean shorts that cut into her fat thighs. Her disheveled mousy hair dragged the ground where she sat. White streaks ran from root to frayed tip. She looked up at Loki with mismatched pupils, one eye more green and one eye more blue.

“If you're a witch, then I suppose you know why I'm here,” Loki asked.

“And if you ain't as dumb as ya look, then you'd a' known that I'm the witch,” she said.

Hugin, at the window of the hovel, spoke to mimic Loki.

“I want to feel his baby inside me, to be full and heavy, to feel it growing in me. I want you to be excited for me, Thor. Proud of me. As you are of them. I want this so badly.”

“Traitor,” Loki muttered at Hunin.

-------

“Now it's a fact that there ain't no way in hell that you can conceive right now,” Angerboda drawled.

“Well, unless you can fix that so that I may conceive in the future, then I've no need of you,” Loki said.

“Relax, you'll be able to conceive when you're ready. But right now, there's a complicated reason and a simple reason why you can't conceive.”

“Then make it uncomplicated for me, witch.”

“Easier said than done,” she drawled, “but I'll try. The complicated reason you ain't havin' no happy bouncin' Thor babies is because that ain't whatcha want.”

“The lie of a witch,” hissed Loki, “if you see all then you know I want no other thing with all my heart.”

She pointed to her dilated eye.

“I have one eye in each world,” she said, “and I only need one eye on your heart to know... the reason you want babies is because what you truly want, now and forever, is to be Thor's equal.”

His face split in a smile as he scoffed. The turbulence in his dark, sunken eyes contrasted with the sharp pallid angles of his high, graceful cheekbones.

“And how is that a reason that I cannot conceive? Surely you're not implying that the things happening in my body are things I'm doing to myself?” he asked her.

“I'm not implyin' it, I'm sayin' it outright; your desire to be his equal is manifesting itself in your body as we speak and preventing you from even the thought of conception,” she said.

“Well if I'm the one stopping me, then I need you not, Hag,” he said.

“Maybe not, but let's cut to the simple reason that you ain't getting' pregnant,” she said.

“Oh let's do,” he encouraged.

“The simple reason you can't get pregnant is that you're already pregnant,” she said, “and you can't get anymore pregnant than y'already are.”

“Wh-what?” he stammered.

“Yup. You're carrying. You've been carrying for a long, long time. That's why Thanos couldn't get any viable implants in you. That' why you keep bleedin' when you shouldn't,” she said.

Loki wondered at the possibilities. Before he'd fallen to the nine hells, he'd felt strange, defensive of something new growing within. But if he did have Thor's child inside him, even from before the fall into the nine hells, Loki wondered how in the hell the pregnancy could have survived what Thanos put him through?

“Whose child am I pregnant with?” he demanded.

“Not so much the matter of who got you pregnant or how,” Angerboda started, “I think you damn well know the who and the how, since you were there for all that. It's what you're pregnant with that's the major concern.”

“What am I pregnant with?” Loki asked.

“Rage.”

“Pregnant with rage, what kind of witch nonsense-”

“You're a god,” Angerboda said, “maybe you were born a jotunn runt, but you're a god, now. You ascended to godhood. Gods' wills become reality, that is how you define godhood.”

She put her hand on his belly.

“...and your will is to make manifest your rage,” said she.

He slapped her hand away.

“All I want manifest in my future is a life with Thor, with his children inside me and my child's love in his heart,” Loki shouted, “and I foresee no one trying to block the manifestation of that vision that I won't send to hell, first!”

“Well, I'm a witch, and I can see the future better'n you. Now sit your ass down and lemme tell ya how this is gonna go.”

Angerboda sat on her unmade bed. She patted the space beside her.

“Get comfortable,” she said, “this'll take a bit.”

He rolled his eyes.

“What can you possibly tell me that I need to know,” Loki said.

“Your options,” she said.

He sat beside her with his legs spread and his arms folded across his chest.

“What options,” Loki asked.

“We've got two options. Option one, we can try to abort your rage. And that might kill you, you are a god, and for a god to kill their own will is suicide. It might not kill you. But it'll change you,” Angerboda said.

“How can such a little thing as a change of heart kill a god?” he scoffed.

“We'll talk about how if you like option one,” she said, “but first, hear option two.”

“What's option two?

“Option two: We birth this bitch.”

“Is... is it Thor's?” he asked.

“It's yours,” she said, “it's your baby, your rage, and most importantly your decision. Remember that when I tell you that in answer to your question yes, Thor is definitely in there.”

“Then option two it is,” he said.

“Option two is fatal,” she said.

“You mean, I die in childbirth?” he asked.

“I can prevent you from dying in childbirth,” she said, “but ultimately, if you birth this thing, it'll kill Thor.”

Loki's eyes went wide in understanding.

“I'm carrying the monster from the prophecy that kills Thor,” he said.

“Yup,” she said.

“And I've been carrying it this entire time,” Loki stammered.

“Yup,” she answered.

“Everything Thanos did to me, he couldn't find it when he cut me open, he couldn't kill it with all he did?!”

“It's made of rage,” Angerboda corrected, “if anything, whatever Thanos did to you has nourished the monster.”

“Nourished it? He did this on purpose?”

“Naw, Thanos ain't got a goddamn clue, nor the sense God gave a goose when it comes to knowing what you are,” Angerboda reassured.

Loki said, “What he does know about me, though-”

“Ain't shit,” Angerboda interrupted, “he was trying to figure out what made you a god and couldn't even figure out which label to slap on your junk. Man's a moron with no clue about this thing inside you. There’s no way he’d have known that it feeds off your determination, your rage, and your everlovin' will to survive.”

“How long do we have before it's born,” he asked.

“Hey, hey, that's for me to know,” she said, “don't get worked up. You have options, let's consider those first.”

“W-we can abort it,” he asked, “you're certain we can abort it?”

“Might abort the mother with it, but yeah,” she said “it can be done.”

“If that'll save Thor then what are we waiting for,” he said.

“I mean... it involves abandoning your rage, abandoning who you really are. It involves givin' up on gaining the attention or the love of your brother,” she continued, “forgiving his condescension, forgiving him for treating you as subservient to him, bossin’ ya around, and cruelly shoving you into what he feels is your place. It involves forgiving him for abandoning you over and over again and calmin’ yourself the hell down when you have every right to be angry.”

“Just like the other five,” Loki muttered.

Angerboda nodded.

“Just like the other five.”

“I'm not sure-”

“You'd have to forgive both yourself and him for everything either of you ever did to spark this rage within you in the first place,” she interrupted.

He thought about it. He huffed.

“I don't know if I can,” he said, “I don't even remember where it started.”

“It started when you were kids, when you knew that everyone hated the frost giants by the way they talk.”

“Everyone?”

“All feelings that aren't acceptable in your society are associated with the jotunn,” she shrugged.

He sneered.

“Like what,” he challenged.

“Like, people saying 'look how red your eyes are getting, loser,” she started, “or more boldly, 'you're as cold as a jotun's limp cock,' or the expression 'don't go blue on me.'”

“As a way of expressing cowardice,” Loki said, “comparing us to them because they're crybaby monsters, weak losers who deserved all the pain they got for daring to challenge the strength of Asgard.”

“And do you remember hearing any of that from your parents?” Angerboda asked.

“I remember, even Frigga would tell Thor to man up, that crying red eyes were for sore losers, for the defeated. Said if we cried too much we’d get Jotunn eyes. She tried not to, but she still slipped when she was angry. I remember,” Loki admitted.

“You remember her apologizing?” asked Angerboda.

“No, but, I remember her pausing, awkward, almost scared to silence at any mention of the frost giants. I wanted to know what could possibly concern my mother, what could be so powerful as to give her pause. She was so powerful, and I thought whatever gave her anxiety must be equally dangerous. So the jotunn fascinated me,” he said.

Angerboda cackled. Her sharp laughter stuck in Loki's ears.

“It's funny,” she said, “Thor loved and feared snakes. You loved and feared the jotunn. This thing inside you is a culmination of your love and his, your fears and his, his rage and yours.”

“I see nothing funny about this,” Loki said, “and you're supposed to be helping me get rid of this thing you say is inside me.”

“You're right not to find the humor, it's pretty serious,” said Angerboda, “but the humor is all mine. This rage-baby, it's Thor's rage-baby, too. Funny to me that the seed of his own rage will be the death of him.”

“Heh,” Loki chuckled, “now that is an amusing thought.”

“It'd be healthier for both of youns if I could just get rid of it,” she said, “but y'all'd probably just make another one cause yall’re stupid. That's how most unwanted pregnancies start, anyway; with two people, that're fuckin' stupid.”

Loki giggled and toyed with a knife.

“Now I won't take offense for the insult to my idiot brother, but praytell how you found the nerve to insult me?”

“Cause. Even if you forgive him for everything he's done and everything he has yet to do, if you settle for anythin' less than the two of you side by side forever, you ain't never forgivin' yourself,” she said, “and he will always try to walk ahead. It's at the core of his being, that ain't never gonna change.”

Loki put the knife to her throat and she cackled again. Loki felt the cut of Angerboda's weaponized laughter deeper than she felt the edge of his blade.

“Unless you want Thor dead between the jaws of the rage y'all made together, you're gonna have to accept him just as he is, and take him like he comes. You know this, but you won't settle and you won't accept it. You'll try to change him. That's why you're dumb,” Angerboda said.

“The only dumb thing I've done is speak to a hill witch,” Loki said.

“You know he'll stay the same,” said Angerboda, “you ain't gotta be a witch to see that shit.”

Loki retracted the knife. He sniffed in thought. He tried to quell his rage with forgiveness.

“I don't want this,” Loki said.

“If you didn't want it, it wouldn't grow inside you,” replied Angerboda.

“Can't you change the prophecy?” Loki asked.

“I can,” she said, “but without you abandoning your love and hate of him, it won't matter.”

“My hate and my love,” he asked.

“Hate ain't the opposite of love, son,” Angerboda said, “apathy is. You think that monster growing inside you don't grow on love? You think hate don't grow on top of love?”

“Yes, I hate him, I hate how he is, how he can be, but I don't want him to die,” Loki spat.

“I ain't here to sugar coat this shit for you, sweetheart; his death'll be by his own dumbass actions. Just like all gods' deaths. This monster, birthed of your rage, that he put inside you, will kill him, just as he will kill this rage, proving at the ultimate end of Ragnarok that you are, now, and always have been, equals. Deny it all you want, but that's always been what your heart most desired.”

“So then, I bear it,” Loki stated.

“Yeah,” Angerboda said, “you keep it inside you for as long as you like, but someday it'll burst from you.”

“Once it's out of me,” Loki asked, “can I have another?”

“Yes and yes,” Angerboda answered, “after some recovery, if we do it right, y'all can conceive a happy boucin' Thor baby just like the others. But any of y'all can, at any time, get yourselves all hate-knocked up with another monster. Depends on y'all's wills.”

“Alright, noted,” said Loki, “Now how do we get this bitch out of me?”

-------

“This thing'll wind itself out of you like a horsehair worm from a cricket. Pain'll be long, drawn out, and after it leaves you it will still sting. It's not gonna just rip up your body. It's gonna fracture your mind. Every time you think about this birth it's gonna pain you all over again.”

“Maybe forgiveness is indeed the answer,” Loki said.

“Backpedaling gets you nowhere,” Angerboda said, “This thing will drive you. But it is you. It's part of you. You'll be drawn straight to whatever precious thing you want to see destroyed most in all existence. You'll go there, and you'll lay down there, and you will burst.”

“And after that?” Loki asked.

“Welp,” Angerboda said, “if you're lucky, someone's with you, and they take whatever husk is left of you to the healers.”

“You truly think I'll be that helpless?” Loki asked.

“You're a god, you can take it,” she said, “but yeah I truly think there won't be a lot of you left. Least not enough to save your own skin.”

He looked at her.

“You've seen the future,” Loki said, “tell me who is there for the birth.”

“Just us,” Angerboda said, “just you, and me.”

“Why isn't Thor there,” he asked.

She looked away from Loki.

“I don't wanna tell ya,” she said.

“What do I owe you?” he asked.

“For what?” she asked.

“For your services,” he said, “for being there when it happens, what can I give you to get this answer?”

Angerboda shrugged.

“Nothin' you can give me'd change my mind,” said Angerboda, “and besides. Nobody ever owes a witch. Witches just are. Witches are here, forward and backward through all time. Whatever we want, we speak it, and whatever we speak, it happens. There's nothin' in the nine realms you could give me that would make me happy save one thing; your decision.”

“My decision?” Loki asked.

“Do you wanna have the monster or abort your rage? You can conceive again if you can manage to rid yourself of this hate,” Angerboda said.

“I-I can't decide, I don't know what to decide,” he said.

“You feel like you don't have enough information?” Angerboda asked.

“Oh I do, I just don't want any of it,” he said.

He wept. Angerboda studied him.

“Sounds like you already made up your mind and just don't wanna admit what kinda monsters y'all are,” she said.

Loki nodded. Angerboda took in a deep breath.

“Thor's not there because when you return to the seraglio, he is spending time with the one that, just today, found out he conceived. You didn't want to interrupt that happiness, but when you go off on your own, Thor tracks you down, effectively abandoning the part of you that's happy and simultaneously buggin' the shit out of the part of you that wants to be left alone. So you tell him to get fucked, and then you leave. You go to Norway, the old battleground, the place where you were birthed and found by Odin, the place where your father died. You birth Jormungangdr on the fjord overlooking the ocean, where he slips into the sea and proceeds to wrap himself around all of midgard, hiding his body in the oceans between the continents. In this act, you fulfill Odin's desire for a peace between Asgard and Jotunheim; a true equality between the kings of those two thrones. That fjord's where I find you, collect what's left of you, and bring you back to Asgard.”

Loki curled into a ball with his forehead on his knees. His long fingers wound into his scalp and he sobbed.

“I didn't want a throne! I didn't want a people! I tried to get rid of it, to do what he couldn't, to destroy every jotunn monster, including myself! So we’d never need to fight each other! I tried!”

“You would have done it. For him. For them,” she said.

“Why, why now, why must I shed tears for this now?” he asked.

“Crying is normal. Tears are a woman's rage,” Angerboda crooned, “and these tears are the water breaking at the birth of your rage. This is your labor; it has already begun.”

Loki wandered away, pulled by the prophecy of his own burning fury. He fell to his knees, and Angerboda ran to him. She tried to lift him; he was supernaturally heavy.

“So much rage,” she grunted.

He remembered Angerboda lifting him. He did not remember how he got to the fjord in Norway.

The birth was a blur, a haze of pain. Loki vaguely remembered images of the ocean torn asunder between his knees as his rage took form from inside him. He remembered bloodsoaked dragonscales pulsing toward the sea. Angerboda's magic kept most of the agony at bay. She worked to anesthetize both the mother and the monster, knowing full well that the monster would need to sleep for years, lest the world be crushed under his tyranny. Loki remembered the fury of the whirlpools and sea-storms the serpent wrought, proud for the resemblance of his brother's power and wrath. Angerboda chanted a sacred lullaby as the serpent's tail slipped into the waves. The sea calmed itself as Jormugandr suckled his tail like an infant would its thumb, and sank its head to the bottom of the Mariana’s trench so many miles away. After a moment of unconsciousness, Loki's eyes opened to the vision of Angerboda hovering above him.

She said, “...Welp. That happened.”

She knelt beside Loki's trembling husk. She lifted him with the same ease as she could have lifted an overstuffed sack of leaves.

“Wow,” she said, “you're so light, now. So gentle. So, that's how heavy your rage has been, this whole time? Your whole life?”

He looked at her but could not answer.

“It's okay, it's okay,” she said, “we're going back, we'll see him soon.”

-------

The healers scrambled to Angerboda's side. Word got around the seraglio that Avenger Loki was back, with Angerboda, and severely injured. The Lokis divided into two factions, one to protect the brood, and one to face off against the hill witch. A standoff with questions and knives occurred in the healing room. Angerboda walked the healers through many of the steps they needed to save what was left of Avenger Loki's gutted lithe frame. She demanded the other Lokis keep their distance on pain of his same fate befalling them. Thor arrived, mjolnir in hand, to confront the witch.

“What has happened, here?” Thor demanded.

“He bore you a son,” Angerboda said coolly, “and that child is mine, now.”

“Dare you claim a son of Thor as thine, hag?” Ragnarok Loki hissed.

“Nope,” she said, “I claim a son of Loki as mine.”

“I demand to hear these words from his lips,” Thor said.

“He doesn't owe you an explanation,” Angerboda sang, “It was his body, his rules. And you can either stand here bein' a tit about it, or you can hold his hand while he recovers, if you do it gently.”

Thor attempted to push past Angerboda. Angerboda didn't look him in the eyes. She hooked her hand around the nape of his neck and drew him down until his ear met her cheek.

“Before you answer to me,” Angerboda threatened, “you might wanna think whether fuming at some little witch from some little scrap of Nowhere, South, is worth your time. Imma letcha go. But when I do, you're going to be gentle, physically and emotionally. Cause if you let your rage and confusion get the better of you, I will pull you to ground and kick you right in your fertile little thundercunt to make sure this shit never happens again, are we perfectly clear?”

“You are aware what consequences such actions would bring down upon your head,” Thor said through chuckling breath.

“I'm more aware than you, but what can I expect? You didn't see any of this comin', you can't see the future. But, remember: I'm a witch. I see a future with you a-layin' right there with your ears red and your hands tucked between your legs wondering if you'll ever fuck again... I hear a future filled with the howls of millions that crave your fertile advances, all wailin' at the news that you can't get it up. And yeah, that's a future where my skull's busted in by that half-staffed whack-a-mole stick in yer paw. In that future, my body's burned away at the stake in exchange for one sweet instance of putting you in your fucking place. Cause it's worth it to make damn sure he knows he's worth defending from your brash idiocy. Now. You wanna go be there for your brother the way you'd want him there for you? Or are we gonna scrap?”

She released the nape of his neck, looked him in the eyes.

“Gentle.” she warned.

Thor kept his eyes on her, his hand on his hammer with a white-knuckle grip. He circled past her; she did not shrink from him.

“...I like her,” Young Loki whispered to his kin.

Thor softened as he approached the bedside. He looked down on Avenger Loki, still thin, with pallor he'd not yet seen. The experience of birth had blunted this Loki's sharp edges as if by photo filter. Where his abs once laid, a sunken hollow remained, as deepset, darkened, and foreboding as his wasting eyesockets.

“Oh, Loki... What did the foul witch do to you,” Thor groaned.

“She made it possible for me to bear your seed,” he whispered.

“Don't make him speak,” Angerboda spat.

The healers nodded in agreement with the witch, and Thor sighed. He stared daggers through Angerboda.

“Alright then, there are time for questions later,” Thor growled.

The healers brought a stool for Thor, which he lowered himself onto. He traced the veins of Loki's limp hand with his fingertips. Young Loki asked Angerboda a great many questions. She answered them all within earshot of Thor. He understood then that Avenger Loki had born unto him a monster.

“It was so beautiful,” whispered Avengers Loki, “it had your strength. It had your rage. I now know exactly how much of your loathing I can bear.”

“Loki, where is the child?” Thor whispered.

“It ain't no child, it's a damn monster,” Angerboda interrupted, “and it's on Midgard just like we was discussin'.”

“True, it is on Midgard, banished to her oceans,” Avenger Loki said, “where it should be made to sleep until the end of days, along with any ill will I ever bore you.”

“Oh, you bore it alright,” Angerboda muttered, “and now you need to shush, rest your pretty head, and recover from that nonsense.”

Thor turned his hot attention to the hill witch.

“You... Mother of monsters,” Thor accused, “be silent!”

“Better the mother of monsters than the absent father of of my own destruction,” Angerboda replied.

“Absent?!” Thor spat, “You're keeping this child from me!”

“That's right, absent,” she drawled, “You abandoned Loki to the nine hells. You abandoned him to the chitauri, you abandoned him to your father's prison, you abandoned him on Niflheim, you left him to die on Sakaar under the threat of the Grandmaster's execution of him, you left him among the wreckage floating in space while you ran for Nidavellir, you have let him walk his path alone forever. So What makes you think you'll be any more present for this rabble of misplaced trailer trash that the lot of you call a brood?”

Young Loki smiled wide, and leaned forward in his stool, delighted at this newfound entertainment. Thor raised his hammer in Angerboda's direction.

“We will scrap, hag!” Thor began, “but it will not be this moment.”

“Won't it?” she asked.

Thor caressed the wrist and thumb of the weakened Loki.

“It won't,” Thor replied.

“Jormungandr is beyond your reach, just like its mother's true feelings,” Angerboda said, “and to top it off, Jormungandr is beyond your control, just like your own rage.”

“This is me, controlling my rage,” Thor said, “but yet, do not test me further.”

She said, “I can't stop you, and I can't stop the serpent.”

“Then why do you persist with me? Why incite my ire, if you so fear my rage?” Thor asked.

“Because there is no one else in all the nine realms willing to keep an eye on it. Not even you. So here I stand, ready to die, to make sure it all stays down in the depths where no one can rouse it.”

Young Loki's head cocked to one side.

“Do you mean the serpent, or Thor's rage,” he asked.

“Yes,” Angerboda answered, “yes to both.”

“I'm sorry, Thor,” Avengers Loki whispered weakly, “but I'm glad I did it. I feel so much better now, about me, about you. I was able to just let it all go.”

“And y'all are gonna let it stay gone,” Angerboda stated.

“Why? The sooner I conquer the beast, the faster this prophecy is ended,” Thor said.

“You can't end it,” Angerboda said, “if you disperse it's spirit, all that rage and hate and resentment you released will coalesce right back inside of it's mother to be born again, and again, until it destroys one of you, and by extension both of you. Let it go and let me look after it.”

“Once again, this is me, controlling my rage,” Thor said, “and once again you test me with your demands.”

“Once again, he bore you a son, and that child is mine now, because y'all’re fuckin' stupid.”

Young Loki wrung his hands in front of his heart, then put his clasped hands to his grinning mouth. Ragnarok Loki gently caressed Avenger Loki's hair and glared at Angerboda.

“As much as I'm loathe to admit it, 'tis true,” Ragnarok Loki said, “we are all of us quite literally out of our depth against this monster, and so long as you're not going to be a giant tit about it, our family will be happier for leaving it, and the past, at the bottom of the midgardian oceans. This one will make a full recovery, and fulfill his dreams of adding more little ones to our brood of misplaced trailer trash. All will be well.”

Ragnarok Loki knelt down to place a kiss on his ill brother's pale forehead.

“I could not be happier for you, my sweet,” Ragnarok Loki said.

Avenger Loki smirked weakly up at him with pride.

“Thank you, I'm so glad to hear it,” Avenger Loki said.

“Mark my words though, I will still die at your funeral for this, I swear on our graves,” Ragnarok Loki whispered.

The pair smiled at each other, and Angerboda cackled. Her weaponized laughter rang discordant down the halls. Far away, in the seraglio, the children cried in fear, while the other Lokis comforted them.

“Do you foresee him making a full recovery,” Young Loki asked Angerboda.

“I do,” she admitted, “I see years of happiness and many children in all your futures.”

Find this story on Google Docs at:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xGnt3OuyWF-MrTIu7eb2vXKp9bPJZ9CbsnSYSuxQsUM/edit?usp=sharing

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hjbender · 6 years ago

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All That He Has

Sequel to All That He Wants. The fate of the tragic Avenger Loki in the 6L1T universe plays out. Words: 1,425. Rated: E. Mpreg, angst, Loki harem, intersex Lokis, fertility struggles, mention of: torture, medical experiments, slight gore, noncon, terminal illness. Tagging @poopytrashy and @the anon who was tortured by the god tier angst of this AU (you know who you are)

The children of Thor were numerous, the pleasant results of loving six different embodiments of the same wily, winsome trickster god over the course of many years.

The youngest Loki had borne eight children for Thor, twice as many as any one of his older selves. It made sense; he was the only one who hadn’t been subjected to Thanos’s brutal egg-harvesting and sexual torture, and his untouched womb remained fresh and fertile. He and Thor used special protection now that Loki had deemed eight a good number at which to stop, and Thor was perfectly content with his decision.

Ragnarok Loki came next with his four children, delivered over the course of twenty years. Dark Loki and Infinity Loki each had three children—a pair of twins and two single babies—and Royal Loki bore two.

Avenger Loki never conceived.

There were twenty children between them, all beautiful and unique, a diverse blend of Aesir and Jötunn genetics. To the childless Loki, the dream of having a baby of his own was, it seemed, lost to him forever. But his brothers’ children were as much his as they were theirs, and he raised them with the same unconditional love as if he had borne them himself—perhaps even spoiling them a little more, for he treasured them with a particular melancholy that his five other selves did not possess.

His children called him Mori-Loki, one of their six ways for addressing their mothers, and many were the times that Loki had kissed their scratches and scrapes, delighted them with his illusions, and tucked them into their beds at night—as gladly and dutifully as any biological parent. They had dribbled on his shoulder as babies and clung to his legs as toddlers. They came to him with their struggles when they were adolescents, and they hugged him with appreciation when they were adults. The children of Thor Odinson flourished and grew into healthy, happy members of the kingdom, and Avenger Loki took great pride in knowing he had helped form them. Not in his womb, but in every other way. He was a mother. Their mother.

The envy he harbored toward his childbearing brothers faded in the long centuries of harmony in New Asgard. Their children aged, and they aged with them. Thor’s hair began to turn white, though he was still as vigorous and powerful as he had been in his youth. Indeed, with his full beard and crinkling blue eyes, he looked more kingly and kind than any monarch who had ever sat on the throne of Asgard. The Lokis aged gracefully, silver streaks appearing in their black hair and fine lines complementing their identically-handsome faces, making them look wise and mature—elegant creatures, regal, refined.

And still quite energetic in the bedroom. Thor welcomed their attention with the same enthusiasm as when he had first lain with them. Their union was a happy and fulfilling one.

But one morning, Avenger Loki awoke feeling terrible—more terrible than he usually did. He’d been experiencing mild nausea and persistent fatigue for nearly three months now, and at first he had assumed it was simply the time of year. Summers in this realm were notoriously long and wearisome, but now his queasiness was beginning to worsen and he was aware of an abnormal feeling in his lower abdomen.

Perhaps it was something serious. Aesir and Jötnar were hale, robust people, but they were not immune to terminal illnesses. Loki began to suspect the worst. The Midgardians called it cancer, and he assumed that was what he had. A malignant growth, the result of Thanos cutting into his uterus those many years ago and exposing his reproductive cells to all manner of hazardous elements, planting hideous embryos into his belly, stealing his precious eggs. Perhaps his body had never fully recovered from its trauma and that was why he couldn’t conceive. His womb was a mangled, mutilated mess, his eggs rotten and his ovaries ravaged, destroyed by the sperm of those salacious monsters.

And now, centuries later, his body was deciding to kill itself.

He didn’t tell Thor or any of his brothers. He didn’t want to go to the healers. He didn’t want to hear his case confirmed and have to share the devastating news with his family. He didn’t want to suffer the long and arduous recovery that would drain the energy from Thor’s healing hands. Let him use those powers on someone else. He was a lost cause, a burden, an outlier. He always had been.

When Loki’s belly began to swell, he knew it could only mean one thing: a cancerous growth had taken root in his useless womb and was now slowly eating him from the inside out. He hid the lump under loose clothing and the cover of darkness, and shied away from Thor’s loving, sensual advances. “I’m not feeling well” and “I’m too tired, Thor” became his mantra.

But then something strange began to happen. The flesh of his breasts thickened and became tender, swollen. His nipples hardened. His body began to soften. He gained weight. Thor began to look at him with a strange light in his eyes, as if he himself didn’t know why he was suddenly mesmerized by Loki’s appearance. The other Lokis voiced their lighthearted jealousy of his healthy complexion and warm, radiant aura.

These were not the symptoms of a dying person.

Loki finally took himself to a healer, who listened to his list of afflictions and glanced at him briefly before saying, “I think you might be pregnant, your highness.”

Loki was speechless. He would have laughed if he weren’t so sick with dread. “Impossible. I can’t be. I’m too old. My body, it’s… Check me. Thoroughly.”

The healer did. And her smile confirmed the last thing that Loki ever expected to hear: “You are nearly eighteen weeks pregnant. There’s a strong, steady heartbeat and your placenta looks healthy. The fetus is showing normal signs of development. Everything appears to be fine.”

Loki was too shocked to react. As soon as he had dressed himself and left the infirmary, he covered his face with his hands and burst into laughter. After a few moments, the laughter turned to sobs.

Strong. Healthy. Normal. Fine. His baby. The one he was carrying now, in his own belly.

That evening he came to Thor in his workshop and casually asked if he knew where he could find a large piece of ash wood.

Thor, who had taken up carpentry as a hobby in his silver years, was wholly focused on his planer, his bushy gray eyebrows knitted together in concentration. “I have a large piece I’ve been saving for a special project,” he said absently. “Why, do you have an idea for it?”

“Yes. A very special idea.”

Thor chuckled at Loki’s trademark, deliberate vagueness. “Alright, then. What would you have me make?”

“A cradle.”

“A cradle?” Thor kept his eyes on the piece of wood he was shaping. “Who’s having a baby?”

“We are.”

Thor’s hands went still. He raised his head.

Loki smiled at him and threaded his fingers together over his belly.

Thor’s jaw dropped and he rose from his workbench, his tools clattering to the floor and stirring up coils of wood shavings and sawdust.

“A buh. A baby?” he stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You mean you’re...?”

“Yes.” Loki walked over and took Thor by the wrist, placing his hand upon his belly. “Here. You can feel for yourself.”

Thor was trembling as he brought his other hand up to cradle Loki’s stomach, caressing the firm, subtle mound beneath his green tunic.

“A baby,” he repeated. When he raised his head, he was smiling. Tears rolled down his cheeks and into his silver beard. “H-how is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” said Loki. “But it’s happened. At long last, it’s finally...” He put his hand over his mouth and wept.

Thor folded his arms around Loki and stroked his salt-and-pepper hair. “A baby,” he said with an astonished laugh. “The child of our old age. Oh, Loki, I am so happy for you. For us. I am so…”

He pulled away and took Loki’s face in his callused, tool-toughened hands and kissed his lips, his cheeks, the lines that were gradually deepening around his mouth. Then he kissed his brow, where creases from decades of internal despair had been permanently etched.

Thor rested his forehead against Loki’s and mirrored his overjoyed smile.

“Mori-Loki, beloved mother,” he murmured reverently. “Twenty children we have raised together. And now we shall raise another.”

#thorki #6L1T #hjbwrites #thorklet #thunderfrost #mpreg #angst #whump #happy ending #pregnant loki #intersex loki #torture cw #noncon cw #cancer cw #hjbedit #nafw

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