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mrs-elsie-barnes · 4 months ago

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Chapter 23 - The Old Gods and The New

A Firefight or A Viper's Nest | Loki x Reader

Loki misses us and more threats descend on Tønsberg.

Warnings: continued angst from Loki, threats to the village and references to battles and war.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

It took a long while for the shock of Jane’s revelation to set in, the small court just stared at her for a while, a strange breeze that came from nowhere seemed to drift through her hair so that it floated around her face in artistic waves.

“Well.” Brunnhilde said, shocked, “that’s quite the party trick, Jane.” Her lip quirked up into a smile as she looked her friend up and down before turning to Thor. “And you were going to share this information, when? I assume you must know?”

Thor opened and then closed his mouth, at a loss.

“Thor, she has your hammer.” Korg looked more confused than anyone. “I thought that was your magical hammer?”

“It is,” Thor grunted, looking more than a little betrayed. I still have Stormbreaker though, I am still as mighty and powerful as ever, do not worry about me.” He attempted a casual laugh but it came out as a weak cough.

“I’m sure that’ll come in very useful,” Brunnhilde didn’t move her gaze from Jane until she’d put the hammer down, the armour, hair and magical wind vanishing as quickly as it’d appeared.

“All this to say, Estrid, I’d be happy to come with you to save Loki. He saved my life, once, I thought he’d sacrificed his own life for mine and Thor’s. I feel like I owe him, even if he is still alive.”

You’d yet to hear this story, but you were even more determined to hear it with Loki present. There was still so much you didn’t know about each other, and the loss of him was still so keen, so painful. You needed him back, so you could discover everything there was to know and relish in everything you already knew him to be.

“Thank you, Jane, you’re a good friend.”

Jane reached out and squeezed your hand. “I suppose we have a rescue mission to plan then.” And you smiled for the first time since Loki had been taken because, for the first time, you thought there might actually be some hope of seeing him again.

Brunnhilde called a recess on your, admittedly, very casual court and strode into her back office, slamming the door. You weren’t sure if it was Jane’s admission that she too held powers similar to Thors, or that Carol wouldn’t be joining Asgard any time soon, that had led to her unusually emotional outburst. You’d known Brunnhilde only a short time, but she was always collected, snarky almost, releasing her emotions carefully out of sight of her court and her people.

You took a step, aiming to follow her. It must be very, very, lonely to have to keep a brave face all the time. Your own had been woefully unsuccessful, but you could at least offer her your support.

Thor touched your shoulder, tightening his fingers and drawing you back with his gentle strength.

“Leave her, Trouble, she just needs some time to - process.” He looked sad, tired, and for the first time you thought about what a toll this must be taking on everyone.

Korg slid a pint sized mug towards you, liquid sloshing over the sides, “it helps.” He offered.

You took the mug gratefully, lifting it to your lips and sipping expecting tea or coffee - spluttering you sat the mug down and looked at the smiling Kronan.

“This is mead,” you coughed.

“Yes, it helps.” And you allowed a rare smile to creep to sneak onto your face.

Loki had been alone before. He had fallen through space, probably time as well if he really thought about it, he had been cast aside by his family, made poor choices and been equally as punished by his father as he had Thanos. He had been alone and rebuilt his life on Sakar. But he had never felt the crushing weight of this loneliness as he did now, staring at his own gaunt reflection in the reinforced glass of his prison.

He had never before remembered your touch, his home had never had another dwelling in it that he felt such an affinity for and he hoped that you were still there, still safe.

Loki’s thoughts drifted constantly, even when he was with strangers at least he could talk to them. He had created quite the social circle alongside Thanos and in Sakar, though he did rather regret aligning himself with both rulers. Here no one spoke to him, no one even looked at him.

He remembered being alone on Asgard as a young boy, how thrilled he’d been when his mother had told him that her friend was bringing her own child. Someone of a similar age and disposition, who liked to read, who was learning magic, who enjoyed games. Loki had imagined someone like himself, a tall boy who he could hunt and fight with. He had been shocked when a girl had peaked around her mother’s skirts at him.

“Estrid, you very welcome here in Asgard. May I present my son, Loki. He has similar talents. Perhaps he could show you the palace.”

He had peaked between his mother’s skirts to look at you, hidden inside your own mother’s cloak. Loki had bowed, just as he’d been taught and looked back at Frigga for confirmation that he’d done so correctly. In return you’d stepped forwards, holding your dress and curtseying.

He had missed you dearly for many years and not even known that the ache in his chest was you. How had he let you out of his sight for even a moment.

You, who had brought him everything he’d been looking for, a go-between to soften the often difficult relationship with his older brother, a playmate that was on his side and, eventually, someone who saw him as he truly was. Loki closed his eyes, unable to look at his own sullen face a moment longer, and reached out to you again.

I miss you, my darling, and, though I would hate to ever be the cause of your distress, I hope that you miss me too.

Watching the waves in the harbour you felt a surge of magic, as if it had wound about your heart and tugged you. Looking back at your door the lantern light that, since Loki had vanished, you couldn’t bare to turn off, flickered and danced. The artificial light stayed where it was, but something more flared and jumped, slithering towards you. The fiery snake moved swiftly and your own calf appeared from behind you defensively. But you knew it wouldn’t harm you. With a smile you waved the calf to the side and allowed the snake to coil around your ankle and slink its way up your leg. Reaching down it coiled into your cupped hands and you held it close, allowing its warmth to sink into your chest.

“I miss you too, Loki.” You whispered to the waves, hoping they’d take your message back to him somehow.

The council didn’t pick up again when you returned to the Long Hall the next day. A walk along the wharf had cleared your head and a glimpse of Loki, even just his sedir, had given you the courage you needed to keep going instead of just staying at home and crying as you wanted to.

He was right, you were a Goddess, a Princess and you would act like one. Wiping a few tears from your cheeks you stepped back into the hall to be met with a familiar face.

The man was sat with Brunnhilde, the King in her throne, a worried look on her face. The older women were cooing and fussing, filling a trestle table with tea, mead, beer, biscuits, half a fruit cake, anything they could get their hands on. His blonde curls formed a halo around him, even in the harsh fluorescent light. His spear was propped against the table casually and, hanging up your own coat, you noticed his green cape on a hook.

Lugh.

He had found you then and, after all you’d heard about his friendship with your mother, you were unsure how to proceed. Embarrassed that you had argued with him so fiercely when he had cared so deeply for your family.

“Estrid.” Brunnhilde looked up, beckoning you closer, “I think it’s time we all talked.”

Lugh stood, offering you his chair, which you cautiously accepted.

“Thank you for not running, Princess, I believe you listened to the prophecy?”

Lugh took a chair opposite you, folding one leg neatly over the other and lacing his fingers together.

“Yes,” you said, warily. This was the first time you’d met without the panicking variables of your previous encounters. There were no Avengers or Gods to distract you. This was the Long Hall, Brunnhilde had been talking to him just moments before, and yet you couldn’t let yourself settle.

“So you see how this simple prophecy, possibly even just a dream, has caused so much…chaos.” He smiled slightly on the last word, taking a sip from his cup.

“You think it’s about me?”

“I know other people think it’s about you.”

Lugh’s casual demeanour was making your blood boil, fire danced between your fingers and your calf was back, nuzzling into your leg.

“And I also know what I believe, knowing your family and your history. I saw your raw talents as a mere babe.”

You stared at him, everyone did, waiting for him to go on. But he remained silent, waiting for your request. When you said nothing he raised a single eyebrow and sipped from his cup again. With a sigh, you gave in.

“Please, tell me.” Your teeth were gritted, fingernails digging into your palms. The last time Lugh had been given free reign to talk to you, it had ended with you storming off and, this time, there was no Loki around to cool your fire. You could still feel his cold touch in your memories, the way he surrounded you and doused you.

“Your gift,” Lugh pointed at the flames that sat above your skin, “you have been able to do that since I first saw you, swaddled as you were in your mother’s arms. It never burnt you, or her, but it kept others away.”

“Bres?”

Lugh nodded, “yes, Bres was already jealous, knowing you were not his, but he is not entirely cruel and had wanted to try for your mother’s sake. No one could get close until Brigid and Frigga tamed the flames. Bres believed you to be a Goddess of Fire,” at this Lugh rolled his eyes, “he always was so literal, such a bore. But the idea stuck, not just for him but with the Vanir as well. They wanted you to bring fire and chaos and Ragnarok so that they could seize power. So, naturally, Bres made a deal.”

“The betrothal.”

“Exactly.”

“But, when he came for me, he said I would be the Goddess of Lust.” Your brow furrowed, “there’s nothing in the prophecy about that.”

“You are correct, that was his intention. But he did not know you well, he believes he can control these things simply by being a King, forgetting that the universe has its own path, that gods forge their own way. Bres believed you to be a goddess of Lust because he wanted you to be, and then you seduced Loki -”

“I didn’t seduce him I -”

Lugh held up his hand, “child, do not fret on these details. You were but youths, you cared for one another.”

You mused on this idea for a while and Lugh allowed you the quiet of your own thoughts.

“If I’m not the Goddess of Lust, then what am I?”

“I can only answer for myself, child, for you have yet to ascend and truly come into your powers. But I believe you are the Spring, the way you forge through the darkness and bring new hope and life to those around you. It can be nothing else.”

Spring? You settled into the thought, it was kinder than Lust, yet, there was something wrong, something missing. It didn’t spark your magic the way Loki described enjoying mischief, it left you feeling hollow and empty. For a moment you considered arguing with Lugh, but he’d been so patient and kind it didn’t seem fair to push him away again.

“And now, child, we must think about the future and not the past. Bres resides on the cliffs of your home, on the very limit of Asgardian territory, and one of your court is missing. I must request that you come with me for protection while the warriors deal with this threat.” Lugh said, matter of fact, standing and brushing the tiny wrinkles from his fine clothes.

“Absolutely not.” You ground out, your blood cold at the thought of running again.

As if from a shadow Thor approached again, having left the two of you to talk privately. “Trouble, I really think it would be best if -”

“Thor, don’t, I know you just want to keep me safe -”

“We all want to keep you safe, Estrid. Come with me and we can wait for this to be over.”

“I won’t leave my people, I won’t leave my court, I am a sworn warrior of the Asgardian court and my place is here.”

“There will be no court if Bres unleashes hell upon you!” Lugh shouted, it was the first time he’d truly raised his voice in anger towards you and it made you shrink back, fire tingling at your fingertips.

“If you really don’t want me here, let me leave to rescue Loki. If you really want me safe, help me.”

Lugh cast a withering glance back at Thor, who shrugged his shoulders and looked over at you with a half amused, half indulgent, look on his face.

“Ah Trouble, you always know just how to twist things.” Thor reached over as if to pinch your cheek, but you batted his hand away, holding it out for Lugh instead, “do we have a deal?”

Lugh sighed heavily, “is this the only way you will leave? To go from one firefight straight to a viper’s nest?”

“It is, either stay here and fight Bres with me, or go with me to rescue Loki.”

“Then I shall accompany you to rescue the mischief maker,” he agreed, holding his hand out, “after all, this village will need all the heroes it can find.”

You had barely made contact with Lugh’s palm before an enormous bang rocked you from your feet, Thor caught you quickly, righting you as his armour manifested. With a half a thought, yours did too, the velvet and metal a reassuring squeeze against the echoing screams of the people outside.

Brunnhilde ran in from the kitchen followed by Jane, both in their armour, swords drawn, Mjolnir and Stormbreaker hovering near.

“What on Earth was that?” Jane shouted over the continuing rumble of noise. Clouds of brick dust billowed from under the doors and misted the windows.

The largest windows faced out onto the harbour and village square, where snow sludged over the edges of the quay into the freezing waves beneath. Now sepia toned from the stone dust the harbour was at least intact. Brunnhilde marched into the back kitchen where high thin windows looked into the alleyway behind but, with the right angle, she tilted her head up and peered at the cliff above the village.

“Fucking Bres.” She growled, storming from the kitchen, across the hall and out into the melee.

Thor was close behind with Jane on his heels, Mjolnir in hand.

The village was in disarray, rocks and mud sliding down the cliff edge had settled on the rooftops, an entire house had crumbled, its occupants thankfully free of the debris but sobbing in front of the ruins of their home and, from every corner, shadows and soldiers swarmed.

The cliff seemed to be covered in them, all carrying Bres’ or the Vanir banner, headed by Bres himself, flanked by a cruel looking man at his side, his eyes narrowed and a smirk curling the corners of his lips.

“I warned you,” Bres sneered, “I told you to come with me, welp, or you would suffer the consequences, I told you to know your place, or I would put you back there.”

“My place is here,” you shouted back over the chaos unfolding around you, “this is where I belong, these are my people and you will leave them.”

“Or what?” The Vanir beside him laughed, “I shall enjoy breaking you.” He leered, unsheathing his sword, and lept from the jutting rocks to the fallen debris below, getting closer and closer with each lurching stride.

You wanted to fall back, wanted your stomach to stop churning, but you held your ground, spear aloft and bursting with flames as he charged.

On signal from Bres the soldiers gathered closer and closer, the villagers backing up into the square where Thor and Jane corralled them into a circle behind them.

He was getting closer, so close, and you missed Loki so much, missed his reassuring touch, missed the feel of him beside you, ready to face any challenge, missed knowing he believed in you…but that belief, that knowledge, it didn’t reside with him. Your left hand unfurled, fire whipping from your fingers and curling at your feet, a wall of heat rising before you. He had told you enough times that you believed him, whether he was with you or not.

“Or, you disgusting pig, I’ll show you your place.” With a speed you didn’t realise you had, your left hand moved forward sending the flame snapping towards him like a bull whip. It cracked on the ground, cutting into the front of his leather boots.

“You little bitch,” he parried forwards again, pushing through the shield of heated air you’d created, his skin crackling and his sword clashing with your spear.

“Your argument is with me, leave the people alone.” You snarled, using your spear to push his sword back towards him.

From across the square you could hear Bres cackling maniacally, his own magic flashing as reflections in the windows, you could hear Mjolnir zipping past you and Brunnhilde’s battle cry as she pushed the soldiers back, towards the cliffs. Time seemed to slow, the sun hot on the back of your neck despite the grey clouds and biting wind.

He stepped closer, pushing through the shield despite the pain until he was nose to nose, flecks of spittle settling on his chin in his fury.

“I was promised a beautiful, lustful, bride and I have had to chase you across the universe and through the centuries just to discover that you are a wilful, disrespectful harlot.”

“So fuck off.” Your jaw hurt from gritting your teeth, but you refused to back down, stepping toe to toe.

“Like I said, I endured all that, and now I get to break you down too and I will savour every -” he pushed you backwards, “single -” his sword raised again, - “moment-”

Everything went black, the dull roar of fighting in your ears and the startled whites of his eyes as the darkness took over and then blinding light.

He had fallen back onto cobblestones, but there was no longer a Long Hall behind him, just more empty space, fields and trees, stones and even alpine flowers forcing their heads through the depth of the fresh snow fall.

“Where the fuck have you taken me?” He jumped back to his feet, sword out. Behind you Thor and Jane backed the last of the soldiers over the harbour wall with a splash before turning to see the empty countryside.

Beside you, Lugh placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “you did it,” He smiled softly, “you summoned her cloak.”

The Vanir fled towards Bres, vanishing with a crack.

Loki felt a tremor deep inside, a stirring of a preternatural sense, something deep seated and startling. He had felt it only once before, although it had been very recent, when Hela had brought down the palace of Asgard and he had helped the people flee onto a rescue ship bound for gods know where.

It made him sick, roiled in his stomach and he marched for the windows, banging with all his strength.

“You must release me, Asgard requires my help. Release me! I must go and protect my people! Let me lose!”

There was no answer, only the subtle dimming of the lights and the echo of his own pleas.

<<Chapter 22

Chapter 24>>

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