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lemonietrinket · 5 years

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King and Lionheart ||| King!Jungwoo x RoyalKnight!Reader

Part One

Genres: Fantasy, some Fluff, Angst but has a happy ending! Word Count: 2533 Warnings: Grisly ideas with a lot of death but no severe descriptions of it Theme Song: King and Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men

AN: Based kind of closely to the lyrics of the song? It’s really good! And I didn’t intend for this to be a two-parter, but yeah it turned out that way and I’m really sorry. Hopefully, it won’t be too long until Part Two is up. Thanks for reading!

~~~

The sky was an oil painting, vast brushstrokes of emerald steadily cloaking the azure-tinted clouds that graced the night. Stars speckled the deep blue silk as if a thousand ghosts were peering down at the horror that had unfurled at the foot of the fear-stacked mountains—thistle hued rock gashes in the snow.

The streets were crowded with translucent spirits, their bodies chained in silver to their spots. Their eyes were piercing, staring into the souls of those still attached to the mortal plane, filled with sorrow and the ferocity of dry anger.

But though it should have been, their fury was not aimed at you.

The two of you picked your way through the street. Jungwoo stumbled, his eyes meeting those of the lost, the slow tears refusing to halt. A neverending cascade, striking trails across his mottled cheeks. Trembling lips were silent, the only exception being his hushed breaths that collided with the air and froze.

You watched him carefully as you stepped over rubble from the ceremonial grounds, eyes never leaving his wavering features. Golden flags were torn and muddied with charred remains at his feet, as he came to a stop at a mother’s spirit hovering at the lengths of her restraints. A fragile, swallowed whimper left his body. It felt as if it carried his whole body behind it, yet was so quiet you almost missed it.

You took to his side, standing between him and the wayward figure. Your hand cradled his shoulder, leading him away from the remnants and into the middle of the abandoned street.

You had aimed only to talk to him, but he broke, pressing his head into the furs at your neck and crying openly. His sobs remained to be the worst sound you had heard, and you had heard many things.

Creatures built like towers made of scales fashioned of the carcasses they feasted upon, whose screams grasped at the depths of your heart. Abominations crafted of salt that tore at their own injuries as they battled, forcing bloodcurdling roars so grating that you could not believe they could emanate from something that was once human. The guttural clicks from the bone crusted maws of a beast you never did fully lay eyes upon, and you praise the deities above that made that so, daily.

None of it compared to the wound his sadness inflicted.

And there he was, his eyes as warm as summer nights where a blanket was no longer needed, his voice as sweet and smooth as butternut, his smile as bright and beautiful as the moon... he was the kindest soul. He greeted magpies no matter their number, and left food grown in the royal gardens for the deer of the forest.

He was your King, and you were his lionheart. You’d fight whatever came his way—and it wasn’t simply because of the job anymore, it had moved beyond that level a long time ago—and you’d protect him no matter the cost.

You held is larger frame in your arms, a thick glove easing his hood rimmed with ermine, pure and speckled with onyx, over his light hair. As he trembled, you felt your heart twist.

None of this was his fault. If you had not opened the gate, after hearing his ‘voice’, had thought rationally about the logistics of the height of the wall and how, in the spontaneous game, he could have gotten over to the other side to call your name, everything would have been fine.

You had a hand in the disaster, meanwhile, he played no part. And yet he blamed himself.

“Don’t look at them, Woo,” you whispered reassuringly, “they may be angry, but it is not aimed at you—it never will be.”

He whined, clutching at your padded coat as he clung even closer to you.

It was a lie. It was aimed at him. Though not rightly.

He’d inherited a tumultuous throne that he hadn’t been raised for, had faced three onslaughts and the threat of war at least once, all of which caused by bad decisions on the behalf of his predecessor, his childless, wreckless cousin. The people were angry before the fourth invasion arrived, though they had mostly kept it to themselves.

It wouldn’t have a chance to outpour, at least when they were alive. Now their spirits inhabited the streets linked to their chains, and they had the chance to show their anger in their cursed form of the afterlife.

It wasn’t his fault.

Even a country with the strongest army and all the resources of the world and preparation time leaking into months could not have withstood what had massacred the city.

They called themselves the Jotun but it was foul play to call themselves by that name, as even a true Jotun would not have been able to do what they did. Their attacks left people in pain long after death, as they stole everything, including the bodies of the people left unguarded.

It was fair to say there were no survivors, besides the two of you.

Just the King and Lionheart, heading south to seek help.

Your eyes scoured the busy streets, every stall, every face, every shadow, every crevice. You saw no danger, but you could not find him anywhere. You jumped in a poor attempt to see over the heads of the masses. But his bunny smile and his long white coat were nowhere to be seen.

You’d left for the best part of an hour, waiting to see the King of the realm of Aldworth. After attempting to be granted an audience with the three previous dominions that you had passed through to no avail, the King—a lady nearly as tall as the doors she had built with her own hands—had given you the opportunity to speak.

Your King had been left outside. You knew it would have been better for him to be the one that performed the speech—the plea for aid and forces to relinquish his kingdom from the control of the Jotun—but as soon as the words had come to your lips you recognised the dimmed glow his eyes and changed your mind.

The King had let you leave as she worked with her advisors to decide, but now, yours was missing.

Crowds of people scurried from left and right, then round and round and back again. Their bodies melded and waned, shades of brown to black, like the warm earth of ice-moult. Their lungs made weak clouds, that amalgamated into one thin mist, their voices carrying like the war cry of a long-slumbered deity of thunder, and their smiles narrowed into deceit.

And then a weight smashed into your back, very nearly knocking you off-guard.

Your hand flicked upwards out of instinct, to find no hilt.

It was then you realised that the arms at your neck were not malicious, and fit snugly at your collarbones, as a certain pair had always done.

“I’m sorry!” the man exclaimed, but there was the familiar lilt of mischief in his voice.

You gazed back, feeling your back unfurl and tendons relax, to see a huge grin on his face. “Jungwoo! Where were—? What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he cried, just as he always did whenever he had something to hide.

You sighed. “Your Majesty, I’ve known you since we were children, I think I know when you’re lying to me. Now—”

He suddenly let go, swinging round to look at you, face to face.

That was something you could never quite face confidently, his intense stare. Deep irises of earth, when the ice-melt had washed away and left the ground umber in the place of pristine. Everything else you showed no fear, but with him, you felt your iron shell melt. He’d gotten them from his mother.

“I hid, because I wondered what you would do if I didn’t turn up,” he admitted, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands entwined behind his back, “but then I felt too bad, and I was scared you’d throw a man into the ocean again, so I came straight back.”

“Is that all?” You frowned, ignoring the subtle dig.

He nodded enthusiastically, whispering an apology in a tone a thread away from serious.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling. “Honestly, Your Majesty—”

“Woo! You always call me Woo, why aren’t you calling me Woo now?” he interjected, forcing his lip to quiver.

You pursed your own. “Because we are in public and it is not etiquette to refer to a monarch by nickname, and you know that, Your Majesty, now please—”

“But I like being called Woo!” he exclaimed. A few merchants sent the two of you a few unnerved glances as they passed. You responded with a glare, and it had the desired effect, as they scuttled off towards the docks.

Jungwoo seemed to go into deep thought for a brief moment, eyes wandering about somewhat vacantly before he managed to reach a conclusion. “Wait! If I order you to call me Woo, doesn’t that mean you have to?”

You opened your mouth to begin, before you halted yourself. Though it was an unexpected conclusion, Jungwoo wasn’t exactly wrong. And with his beautiful eyes glittering in the knowledge that he’d won, you had half a mind to give in. Luckily rationality kicked in, and you swiftly decided it was safer to attempt to move on.

“As I was saying, Your Majesty, I expected so much worse than you merely hiding, and so please refrain from minor tricks—”

“Oh!”

You huffed. Being held by hierarchical convention really did take the pinch of salt sometimes.

Jungwoo smiled that radiant grin that rivalled the sun as he continued. “And I bought this with the savings money!”

You were about to request as calmly as you could manage to let you finish when he unclasped his hands from behind his back to reveal a hulking great sword gripped feebly between his fingers.

It had a hilt made of what looked to be pure gold, engraved with a series of runes and pictographs, telling something of a great hero slaying an ineffable beast from the oceans. Its edge was so clear and gleaming that even you had no idea what it was fashioned of—only that it could perhaps cleave bone in two, and that it had the appearance of costing the entire lot of your savings.

Words tumbled from your tongue, quivering and broken. “What is—? Jungwoo?!”

“Look it’s alright! You needed a new one after your old one broke and this one is pretty and the seller said it was magic so—”

“Jungwoo!”

“Y/N!” he said mock-sternly, though his expression seemed to be tinted with a seriousness you rarely got to see. “You are my holy, royal, sacred, personal knight! I can’t allow you to be under-resourced. That would make me a bad king, right?” He paused, and you originally expected that it was in an effort to await your affirmation. However, it dawned on you quickly that it was worse than that. His face fell, the smile that had the power to turn even the strongest hearts to putty dissipating on his features, until you were left with only an expression of emptiness before you.

“Who am I kidding, Y/N... I’m already a bad king,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried to hold the threads of his voice together, “and not giving you a sword to help you do your job—the job that I gave you, that you didn’t ask for... that would make me the worst king known.”

His words left you stunned, a condition you hadn’t felt in so long that you couldn’t place the last time you had experienced the loss of words, the swimming of your thoughts, the lack of clarity and solutions.

When you remained unbudged, lips agape and eyes wide and concerned, he continued, “You’ve gotten me through so much, Y/N. You’re my best advisor, my oldest and closest friend, my... my only friend... you’re the last survivor of my kingdom, besides myself. You deserve much more than this, but... this is all I can give you.”

You felt your throat tighten, breath staggered. You knew you should accept the sword, but your hands stuck by your side.

The wind slowly picked up, toying with the crimson flags of the street as the people of the marketplace seemed to fade into alleyways and nowhere.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice nearly so low the breeze almost carried it away, his lip trembling as his gentle face crumpled.

It was at his unnecessary words that something snapped in your brain.

“No apologies,” you stated bluntly, swinging into gear after buffering and taking the sword swiftly in one hand, “not to me at least. We will get the kingdom back, your people back, we’ll get everything back—no matter the cost.” You weighed the weapon in your palms, scarred from numerous grapples and close encounters with the old acquaintance of Death, and raised the blade where you could see the reflections of the sky, watery and pale. “When this sword and I are done, there will not be a single Jotun left.”

“Promise me...” he began.

You lowered the sword, to meet the gaze of his watery eyes, only to find his head still bowed. “Your Majesty?”

There was a wavering exhale, as he worked up the effort to speak rather carefully, “Promise me that the cost will not be you.”

You paused. Even if you’d known him for as long as your memory allowed you to know, this man was always full of surprises. Or perhaps your ignorance had stunted your awareness to see this one coming.

“Is that what you would prefer?” you enquired clearly, turning your head to try and get a better view of his expression. “Over your sacred duties to the throne and the guilt of losing the people?”

Jungwoo didn’t move. He remained still for the longest time, beyond the point that you began to worry. You could almost hear the thoughts, whistling through his mind at the speeds of a gale, crashing like an avalanche through a village against the walls of his mind.

You were about to call his name when he finally lifted his head. His features were stone, firm-set yet saddened.

He nodded once, and you were left stunned.

“Even if the cost of my life was the only way to bring them all...?”

He nodded again, with more clarity, a determination in his eyes that you knew would not fade, no matter the words you spent. You’d only seen it once before, on the day that he asked you to be his knight, his guard for his life. You had been completely unable to turn his words down then too, if you had even wanted to.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “you are my King, Woo.” You divulged in a final glance of your reflection in the blade, before adjusting the old sheath that had remained upon your back. “And so, your word shall be done.”

The sword slotted into the leather as if it destiny was made in those pure seconds alone.

~~~

Part Two - coming soon

Masterlist

[edited: 2/04/2020]

#jungwoo #jungwoo nct #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo angst #jungwoo fic #jungwoo multiparter #nct x reader #nct imagine #jungwoo imagine #jungwoo x reader imagine #jungwoo x reader adventure #jungwoo fantasy au #jungwoo royal au #nct angst #jungwoo x reader angst #nct x reader angst

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pagansquare · 6 years

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Author Interview: Nonir Amicitia

[Today, we sit down for an interview with Nonir Amicitia. The founder of Wandering Jotun Crafts, they are currently at work on a devotional for Loki. Here, they discuss the devotional, their work with sigil charms, and their many upcoming projects.]

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sky-whale-creations · 6 years

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The Middleground Commune, a Camp Half-blood for the Norse

The Norse gods are ever present. They do not follow the flame of Western Civilization, but carve their own path. Like their leader Odin, they are wandering gods. Through the heartland of Germany to Scandinavia, through the English Isles and into the Americas, they have found their home in all of these places, and even footholds in Russia and the Mediterranean.

The Norse have gods and forces of many kinds, always waxing and waning between civilization and nature. They can be most easily seen in the places where the line between this world and the 8 others begins to blur. Where the World Tree of Yggdrasil is the strongest.

Volcanoes in Greenland, just like Muspelheim.

The depths of the Rocky Mountains, similar to Vanaheim.

Old streets in Dublin and Boston, reminiscent of Asgard.

The Middleground Commune

The Middleground Commune is a small village-resort like setting, magically hidden away in the deep mountains and river valleys of Norway. Unlike Camp Halfblood, the commune is intended to be year round. Demigods and such are to be brought there between their 9th and 18th birthdays. The policy is to remain for a minimum of 3 years, after that period they may stay or leave as they wish. Many prefer to call it home, while many others leave for good. Most of the halfbloods who leave tend to return at some point in their lives. Middleground is a safe place and will always be home to those that want it.

Due to the travel magic worked into the commune it is not uncommon to have full, developed lives outside of the commune while remaining there. Having a separate life, however small, is highly encouraged to keep people well rounded.

The intention was that blood bonds and ties are very important to the Norse and it would be best to keep everyone close. As the threat of Ragnarok began to dawn, the gods decided a neutral place would be beneficial, keeping the peace through their mutual attachment to their children as well as their kids becoming friends and allies. The commune became active after WW1, a horrific, senseless war mirroring the dawn of Ragnarok. The gods and men were not in control so the commune came into place to avoid such chaos and strife.

The commune, though existing in one physical place, can be entered in many ways. Odin and Freya have constructed portals all over the world, one in about every 81 miles of another one. Each gateway is a mysterious door with the World Tree printed on them.

Halfbloods can intuitively sense the portals to Middleground, as if going home. Only children of Odin and Freya can learn the proper method to craft their own portals and even then it is an elite technique.

The leader of the commune is Njord, god of the wind, sea, fishing, wealth, and crops. A powerful god said to calm the sea and fire, who can grant land and riches to men.

His daughter and chief Aesir goddess, Freya, oversees the camp, occasionally stopping by to check up on things.

The general staff is primarily comprised of land spirits. Stone and river and tree spirits all work together to keep the commune running and ensuring the health and safety of it’s residents. The executive staff and counselors are a mix of elves, dwarves, giants, and halfbloods who have decided to live in the commune as an adult. (It helps that it is tax and rent free)

The commune is located on a river valley in Norway, shielded by the Mist. There is a port with a dozen or so ships.

Halfbloods

While the Greek halfblood population is usually around 200 at any given time, the Norse halfbloods are a significantly smaller population, with an all time high of 180. There tends to be about half as many halfbloods, around 100 or so at any given moment.

The general attendance of Middleground looks as follows

Aesir: Odin, Loki, Tyr, Vidar, Thor, Sif

Vanir: Freya, Njord, Freyr, Indunn, Skadi

Jotun: Ice, Fire, Mountain, Sea

As well as Elves and Dwarves

While the Aesir and Vanir demigods show no otherworldly characteristics, the same can not be said about half Jotun, Elf, and Dwarf half bloods. It is not uncommon to possess a supernatural trait. Some jotun may possess horns, some elves may have pointed ears, and some dwarves may possess swirls across their skin, amongst a wide array of other possible traits. The Mist covers these features to the mortal world. While more major characteristics can slide below the radar, there are more mundane traits that can still be evident of their blood.

A jotun’s eyes may burn like fire or ice in the right light. Gigantism is not an uncommon trait for them to have.

An elf halfblood may still very well have heterochromia. Some half elves have been known to have albinism.

Some dwarf halfbloods may have vitiligo or large birthmarks.

Historic Halfbloods

Julie d’Aubigny, a famous bisexual swordswoman, opera singer, and trouble maker, was a daughter of Freya. A lust for adventure, a strong will, and a fiercely free spirit is quite normal for Vanir halfbloods. Many Aesir halfbloods have an inherent fighting ability, which extends to Freya, the wife of their leader, as well.

Roald Amundsen, the first person to reach both the North and South poles, was an ice jotun halfblood. His death was reported as an aviation accident due to fog over the Barents Sea was actually the work of the Mist upon stumbling into the territory of a prominent sea jotun, Aegir. Upon meeting the halfblood he took him to Niflheim.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, an incredibly prolific composer, was a half elf. His eccentric personality, outbursts, depression, and drinking were all normal signs for a not properly adjusted half elf. His incredible gift for music was a result of his connection with the Light of Alfheim. Many half elves take well to the arts, the Light allowing their imagination to become reality.

Nikola Tesla, a prominent inventor, was a half dwarf. His vivid imagination, love for asceticism, and his introversion were all common telling signs. His scientific genius is a hallmark of dwarf engineering, always finding new and interesting ways to tackle solutions.

On the subject of disabilities

While ADHD and Dyslexia are common, if not fundamental, for the Greek halfbloods, that is not the case for Norse halfbloods. Whereas the Greeks only have half gods and half humans, there are many more races in play for the Norse due to their complex blood ties.

While ADHD is not standard, it’s not uncommon for Aesir halfbloods. Body dysphoria is a common issue for half jotuns. Many half elves struggle with anxiety disorders. Many half dwarves are autistic.

A major theme amongst the Norse is bloodlines, but individuality as well. As a result, every halfblood is unique, but there may be certain inclinations. It’s important to remember that none of them are mandatory. Some may not have any traits while others might completely embody them, it really depends on the individual.

Weapons and armor

Heros can’t be heroes without protective gear and halfbloods can always expect to find trouble if they venture to far. Special spells, charms, and materials are used for the crafting of such equipment. Most of these things are created by elves, with dwarves specializing in enchantments and physical items, where elves have speciality with charms.

Weapons can be crafted from a number of resources from across the realm, each with unique strengths, weaknesses, and affecting their ability to be enchanted. Due to the sheer magical talent of the smiths, near anything can be fashioned into equipment.

For instance, leaves from Vanaheim are commonly used for arrowheads for their magical properties.

The closest material that would serve as a direct counter to celestial bronze, stygian iron, and imperial gold would be harmonic steel, a metal that excels at fusing with other mystic materials. It is capable of harming both mortals and spiritual beings.

It is made from smelting iron into steel using dew from the World Tree, a semi-rare renewable resource that can be found in all of the 9 realms. Yellowstone National Park is one the 9 direct points in all of Midgard.

The World Tree’s dew purifies the iron, priming it for magical use. The process can be quite difficult to learn, as only one mistake can result in severe drop in enchantment quality, prevent the magic from taking, or even cause the magic to malfunction. The steel will still retain its ability to harm mortal and magical beings.

Many small enchantments can be placed on an item simply through magic, but the most powerful kinds are done by taking a magical material from another realm and adding it. Ice from Niflheim, obsidian from Muspelheim, etc. Because of that, any enchantment can become an adventure.

Leaves from vanaheim infused onto arrowheads allow the arrows to zip and curve in unnatural ways, making sharp turns with ease.

Magma from Musplheim can be absorbed into a war hammer, making it’s blows strike like hot iron on an anvil, bending and warping with its heat.

Mjolnir, for example, is a masterpiece. It’s an incredible powerful weapon made for a god of strength. The lightning and thunder aspects, however, are his own additions to the weapon. He might have developed it by standing at the peak of Asgard, the top of the World Tree, and calling down incredible lightning to strike himself and the hammer. A major point of these weapons is focus, that you must have harmony with them. Mjolnir’s power, especially it’s storm elements, need to be quelled with an equal spirit. One must be worthy of those sorts of enchantments. Anyone can steal Mjolnir, but attempting to use it without being worthy could destroy you.

All harmonic weapons, armor, jewelry, and equipment has that focus in mind, being harmonious with it. They are unique to the individual with a myriad of design and style shifts as they evolve and grow alongside their user. The norse have an idea of individuality through achievement and harmonic items exemplify this.

Danger and threats

Midgard is full of threats. While there is no unified force like the monsters of Tartarus, there are still many creatures and entities that do not take kindly to nordic halfbloods. The most prominent, in no particular order, are the following.

- Werewolves. During an eclipse, blood moon, or full moon, Fenrir’s aura spreads, allowing them to offer an allegiance to someone feeling hatred or betray at that time. In a longterm attempt to calm werewolves, non hostile werewolves have been accepted to the commune

- Dire wolves, Fenrir’s kin. Hulking wolves with a thirst for blood. They wander through wilderness and hunt larger. They can smell a gods blood and will track down Aesir/Vanir halfbloods if they are not careful.

- Trolls. They live in abandoned and secluded places. They are not smart, but they do come in numbers. Younglings as small as medium sized dogs and elders as large as a car.

- Draugr. Undead warriors risen from the grave. More like revenants than mindless zombies. Einherjar and Valkyrie fight these forces.

- Mares. The source of all nightmares, they feed on anguish and misery and sap mortals of their strength and will to live. They induce insomnia and paranoia. They are incredibly hard to physically harm, as they may simply vanish into the Mist.

- Dragonkin. Wyverns, landwirms, and more.

- Fae. Elves who have lost their connection to Alfheim lose the source of their power. In an attempt to resist fading and reclaim their power they have become corrupted, warping their local area into a subrealm, a shadow of their true realms glory. These areas are known as the fae wilds.

- - -

I wrote this because I thought it was kind of unfair how the Norse were treated with Magnus Chase.

They don’t take their kids into their world, they only tell them their true nature in Valhalla. What??? The Norse have a rich history of intermarriage amongst races and take blood bonds and family very seriously, just not in the same was the Greek gods. Not to mention the fact that they might not even go to Valhalla, so what the hell!

Norse halfbloods don’t have unique inherent traits like dyslexia or adhd. Turning disabilities or traits that society deems undesirable as the side effects to superpowers and being special is a great way to make people feel good about their insecurities or disabilities, something I think is incredibly important and the 9 realms would be amazing with handling. It’s a huge missed opportunity to not make everyone feel important and special because of their unique traits

Bone steal really only fits the Aesir, not the Vanir, Dwarves, etc. and really underutilized the 9 realms and just generally how magic works in Norse mythology

I haven’t read Magnus Chase, so I don’t really know exactlly what it’s like, but if I was going to make a cool halfblood world with the Norse, this is how I would do it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

#percy jackson #rick riordan #magnus chase #odin #thor #freya #loki #fenrir #norse mythology #norse gods #mythology

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our-loki-laufeyson · 6 years

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Send me 👠 for a starter of my character trying something new

Send my character an emoji - @petalsinthxwind

Send me 👠 for a starter of my character trying something new

Loki had tried many things. He had fought battles against creatures that humans could not even begin to comprehend existed. He had dined foods that physically shouldn’t be possible. There was not a lot of things he hadn’t done before and being the passionate and amorous person he was, there were no real extend he wouldn’t go to for his partner. But wielding metal, burning almost at its melting point, was especially challenging for a Frostgiant like him.

The metal was an alien metal, usually used for crafting armor, making it much, much sturdier than any common earth metal, meaning it needed to be heated up to liquefying temperatures to soften it enough to handle around.

The most time consuming part however, was the drilling. He had convinced himself of doing this all by hand, no help from overrated tools. He was digging and twisting slowly into the glassy exterior of the energy orb, carefully trying not to damage the image which was to be seen on the inside.

It had been a most difficult task to get his hands on a Galaxy Stone and especially one as clear and pure as this one. The Galaxy Stone was an orb that was formed when there was an abnormally high level of pressure in space. If hit by any sort of energy source, the pressure would collapse in on itself and create a round orb, containing any and all the nearby galaxy inside, moving and living in real time. If he was not careful with it, the whole thing might crack and he would kill the entire galaxy and everything that lived within.

He had known from the day that they had met, that Sierra had an unusual fancy towards space, she had called him an alien on multiple occasions. She especially loved it when they had those small intimate moments where Loki would use his magic to turn their bedroom into a floating galaxy. But that was mere illusions and even though they meant a lot to Sierra, they were gone as fast as they had showed up. That’s why Loki wanted to try out something new.

He and Sierra had been dating for over a year now and even with it being merely a fraction of time to him, it had been one of the happiest years he had ever experienced. With Sierra, he had found true peace. He needn’t worry for his life and he had no time nor lust for any mischievous, greedy, plans of revenge.

So there he sat, inserting the heated metal through the orb, twisting, turning and reheating it until he had finally made an elegant charm. He inserted a small leather string through the eye of the charm, using his Jotun powers to instantly cool the metal, giving it an instant, bright shine. He polished the exterior and engraved his name and the earth date on the inside of the metal.

With a deep sigh he held up the necklace, admiring his work. It truly was something else and he was proud of what he had accomplished, especially it being his first time working with any kind of delicate material, such as a galaxy.

With a flick of his hand, he cleaned his working area as well as himself up, putting the small pendant in his inner breast pocket, before leaving to go see Sierra.

He knocked on her door, entering as he usually did, lounging about with Sierra, enjoying some snacks, until he found that time was right. He sat up from his otherwise lazy position in the couch and took her hand with a gentle smile.

“Sierra.” He said, pulling at her hand to make sure he really had her attention. He couldn’t help but to fall in love all over again as he saw her big, curious eyes search his face and body for clues as to what he was doing, ending their cuddling session.

‘I love you,’ he signed and put his hand on her heart for a brief moment, his eyes telling her to just stay put. ‘I love you with all my life, Sierra. You have made me realize that there are people in this universe, who will actually care about me and love me for who I am. And I can’t return what you have given to me, for you have given me new purpose, new life.’ He finished off, holding back any tears that tried to escape from his eyes. This wasn’t the time to cry. He needed to focus.

‘You deserve the world and everything beyond it, therefore, I made you this..’ He signed and pulled out the pendant from his pocket, handing it to her.

He let her eyes wander over it before he continued to explain what it was. She needn’t do anything, needn’t tell him anything. The sparkles in her eyes told him that all the months of preparation and crafting, had been all worth it.

#Sierra #petalsinthxwind #Ask

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fadingcoast · 6 years

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Death Of The Lie || Chapter 12: Diplomacy

AUTHORS: @fandom-and-feminism & @fadingcoast

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: None RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

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Chapter 12: Diplomacy

Loki’s days in Asgard were, to say the least, dull.

After that first catastrophic dinner, Queen Frigga worked on compromises from both parties. Loki agreed to get a new wardrobe for the duration of his visit and Odin didn’t insist on a haircut, to Loki’s great relief. He could see Gwyn traveling all the way to Asgard just to scold Odin for ruining her hard work.

The next few days he spent at the tailors and blacksmiths, getting new clothes and new armor, and he was grateful for the distraction. The palace had already sent the designs, but Loki managed to convince the makers of a few changes, and favor leather wherever it was possible, keeping the heavy restrictive plate to a minimum. Loki knew Odin sent instructions to emulate Thor’s armor, which was good for handling swords and shields, but not daggers. The blacksmith was more than happy to oblige to Loki’s requests, and crafted a beautiful light armor out of golden plate, black leather and green linen. The design was protective but light and allowed freer movement than if he had been encased in metal like his brother.

The specifics from the palace also included a golden ceremonial helmet, with horns that protruded from the forehead and curled up high above his head. But that one was relegated to the darkest part of Loki’s closet where he could forget he ever saw the thing. It was far too garish for his taste, and he would not be caught dead wearing it.

It didn’t take long for Loki to realize how much he craved to be around Erik, to have his unwavering support and feel the warmth of him in his arms. The letters he got every week weren’t enough, but they were better than nothing, he supposed, and they motivated him to keep busy, if only to pass the time faster and stay away from his father.

Loki began to spend his days sparring at the training pit, getting some mobility on his new armor. Or in the library, where he constantly complained about the lack of seidr material and the biased history. Or with his mother, either practising or working on their gardens. It took them a few weeks, but Loki and Frigga figured out a way to get a small creek running on Loki’s balcony, giving him the ambient noise he needed to sleep properly at night.

Spending time with Thor was hard. Loki wasn’t interested in raiding the local tavern on a daily basis, not with Thor’s friends anyway. He wasn’t about to forget all the pain they caused and he was horribly amazed of how indifferent they were to the damage they had inflicted, acting all friendly and chatty, as if nothing ever happened. Loki gave it a try after much begging from Thor, and proceeded to spend the night transfiguring the ale in Fandral’s tankard to lemon water. His simple trick earned him a few laughs from Thor and Sif, but after that he decided to wait to drink with Thor until he was away from his brutish friends. Sif was agreeable enough company but there were times Thor only had eyes for her when she was around, and Loki would be the odd one out.

One particular evening, several weeks into his visit, Loki sat across from Thor at their usual tavern, staring down into his half-full tankard of Asgardian mead with a frown. The drink was bitter compared to the sweet brew typical of Alfheim, but Loki wasn’t drinking for the taste. Thor, picking up on Loki’s mood, tried to perk him up.

“Why don’t you come with us to Vanaheim?” he asked Loki, knowing the answer but putting forth the effort regardless. “Get out of the castle for a while without worrying about your studies.”

Loki peered up at Thor, his grip on the tankard’s handle tightening. “You know how much of a bad idea that would be. Father has not extended an invitation to me, nor do I expect him to, and I will not ask for one.” He saw Thor’s hurt expression, so he removed some of the bite from his voice and continued. “Besides, as future King, this trip is more for you than I. My time will be well spent studying and keeping Mother company. Just wait until you see the brood of daughters the Vanir Queen has. You won’t miss me.”

“I will miss you! Who better than yourself to give me advice on princesses?” Thor winked. Loki rolled his eyes but gave him a small smile.

Tadpole,

I still find myself thinking only of you when I wake, missing your reassuring touch when I suffer my father’s indifference, craving your lips before I go to bed at night. Asgard, for all its beauty, feels empty and dull without you.

My brother is currently on a diplomatic trip to Vanaheim with my father, so the castle is so quiet and peaceful these days that it has allowed me to spend more time in our library for extra study and practice time. It is truly a shame how much is missing from our archives. Almost the whole of Alfar history is gone, and the scholars stopped getting books from Midgard centuries ago. Matters in the palace are just as tense as always when it comes to my father, so he has not listened when I advised him to continue to build the library’s collection.

Regarding Thor, I wish that you could see how adamantly he still pushes the notion that Sigyn and I are together, or should be. If he only knew exactly how wrong, how blind he is - he certainly inherited Father’s clueless intuition on matters in which he is convinced he is right. Thor is projecting his own infatuation with the warrior Sif onto my life and I will be glad to be away from it.

As the nights here grow cooler and the days shorter, it is a daily reminder that I am closer to seeing you again. For months now I have only been able to get through by knowing I will hear from you soon - but I must express my concern at the extended times between your replies lately. At times it makes me fear the worst, that either we have been found out or you grew weary of loving someone worlds away. Either way, nearly a month has passed since your last letter and nothing would make me happier than to see your neat and precise handwriting, even just a single word on a piece of parchment. Anything to let me know you’re okay.

With love

Longshanks

Loki was getting more anxious the longer Erik failed to reply. But going back to Alfheim was only a few days away, and somehow he managed to convince himself to wait it out. Part of him wished he could depart before his brother and father came back from Vanaheim, but Frigga had already been informed they would be coming back that evening and Loki was to have dinner with them, something he did not look forward to.

Loki left his chambers as late as he could, and walked the corridors slowly. He met a maid on the way, who had been sent to fetch him. He entered the sitting room of the Royal Chambers quietly, avoiding eye contact, though he knew Odin was glaring at him for the delay. Loki didn’t even bother with an excuse and sat down, almost willing himself to blend with the chair’s decoration. He doubted it would make much difference if he did.

“So? How was your trip to Vanaheim?” Frigga asked over the table.

Odin made a concise speech, detailing new trade treaties and dealing with the Niflheim dwarves. Apparently the dwarf King was much more open to negotiations with the Vanir. Loki wasn’t surprised: the dwarves were stubborn and greedy, much like Odin. They would never agree on anything.

Loki’s mind wandered off to his own conversations with King Frèyr, and how he would tackle that problem with Niflheim if it were up to him. Loki came up with a few suggestions, but he knew to keep quiet, since Odin would dismiss him as usual. Thor, instead, was being forcefully made part of the discussion, but Loki could see he struggled with things like diplomacy and basic tact.

Maybe that’s what will become of me when Thor ascends to the throne. Advisor to the King. I’ll do the talking and he’ll do the punching. Better than being the second-best, forgotten Prince.

“Don’t forget the part where you made Queen Frèyja parade all her daughters in front of me…” Thor said, mildly annoyed.

Odin scoffed. “It would be a great political alliance. You need to think like a King now, Thor.”

“I don’t think any of them is truly interested in a political alliance, father. Not even the Queen,” Thor said.

Loki chuckled softly. He had met Queen Frèyja and he could affirm without a doubt, she wouldn’t be.

“Besides, only the eldest one is not betrothed still,” Thor added, taking a large swig of his wine.

“Finja has a suitor?” Loki asked without thinking. Thor looked at him, confused. “Queen Frèyja is King Frèyr’s sister, Thor. I’ve seen her majesty and her daughters in Alfheim many times.”

Thor nodded in realization. “Oh, yes. Is she the youngest one? She got betrothed just recently, to an Ulrik, or Beric - something. Of the noble houses.” Thor gulped down the last of his goblet and motioned the maid to refill it. “You must know him, Loki. He mentioned studying in Alfheim.”

“Erik?” Loki swallowed, trying to hide his shock. “Short one with blond hair?”

“That’s the one!” Thor said. “Quite the fuss, but I wouldn’t know why.” He shrugged.

Loki lost all his appetite, but knew better than to say anything. He could feel Frigga’s gaze on him, but he decidedly stared at his plate, pushing the food around.

This had to be a mistake. Thor couldn’t be serious. Maybe it was one of Erik’s brothers and Thor just mixed them up.

Is this why Erik hasn’t been answering my letters? He’s on Vanaheim?

Thor and Odin kept bickering about it, but all Loki could hear was a buzz in his ears. His heart was pounding and his head started to spin. Suddenly, the whole room felt hot, but Loki did his best to keep normal. The subtle touch of Frigga’s hand on his made him realize that the ice spell he kept on himself stopped working in his despair. Loki shook his head and the spell cooled his clothes once again, making him feel slightly better. Though it wouldn’t stop the lingering pain in his chest.

Once he was back in his room, knowing he couldn’t reach Erik, Loki wrote to the next best person.

Dearest Sigyn.

I hope this letter finds you well.

I wish I could tell you more, but I am in a hurry.

My father and brother came back this evening from a diplomatic trip to Vanaheim, and Thor had the most outrageous news. Princess Finja is to be married, and her betrothed is Erik?

I would ask him directly, but he hasn’t responded to my letters for weeks now.

I can’t risk sending him a letter to Vanaheim, and my teleporting spells only work when I know the exact location or at least have something to build a tracking spell from.

Please, let me know anything as soon as you can.

Loki.

Loki spent most of the night tossing and turning, and was surprised by an almost immediate return letter just the next day after he sent his own, the parchment envelope with Sigyn’s seal appearing on his pillow in a flash of gold seidr. Evidently she had been practicing her teleportation magic. Her reply was brief, scrawled hastily in ink that hadn’t even dried before she folded it up. Dots of the ink were splattered all over the paper. With shaking hands Loki opened it and sat on his bed.

Erik is all right. It’s best that he tells you in person.

-S

It was a bright morning, but everything around him grew dark. He clutched the letter in his sweating hands and held it to his chest, trying to focus on the sound of the running water outside on his balcony to steady himself.

So it’s true, then.

When his maid came to fetch him for breakfast, Loki had her send word that he was feeling ill. It wasn’t far from the truth - in fact, his stomach felt like it was turned inside out - but his mother knew him better. Within minutes of dismissing his maid, Frigga knocked at his door and peeked her head inside. Loki waved her in and he saw she was carrying a bowl of porridge with berries and honey for him.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, his back turned to her.

“Just take the bowl,” she insisted, handing it to him before taking a seat next to him on the bed. “Stir it around. Give your hands something to do while you talk.”

“What’s to talk about? Erik is engaged to a woman he doesn’t love and I’ll never see him again once he marries.” Loki found himself stirring the contents of the bowl and staring at the blackberries as they broke apart and melted in the hot mixture. The smell turned his stomach with its sickly sweetness. “It’s not as if there is anything you or I could do about it.”

“No,” Frigga said softly, running her fingers through the long part of his hair in the back in soothing strokes. “But you don’t have to suffer this alone, Loki. You haven’t lost him yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only mean that you can still make the best of what time you have left with him. Unfortunately diplomacy will always take precedence over the heart when it comes to royal families and nobility - no one knows that better than I - but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be with him while you have time.”

Loki sighed, tears blurring his vision as he thought about running out of time with Erik. He had never given proper thought to their future together, whatever it could be, but he didn’t think their future would be snatched from them before they had a chance to figure it out.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Loki mumbled. “I thought for once in my life something would work out. That I could be happy. And for what? Five years? That’s nothing, a breath of time.”

Frigga lowered her gaze to the floor, sadness creeping across her face. “Better five years of something real than a thousand of hoping something real will become of it.” She looked back over at Loki, who was watching her carefully, and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Please eat, darling, things always feel worse on an empty stomach.”

Loki took a bite of the sweet porridge to placate her and was surprised when his stomach growled as soon as he swallowed. Frigga smiled and stood up, giving him a kiss on the top of his head before departing.

Loki was grateful that the following days he was busy getting all his things ready to go back to Alfheim. He avoided conversation with Thor and Frigga, and took his meals in his chambers. The time finally came for him to leave, and Loki took the walk down the bridge alone at dusk after his goodbyes. Heimdall’s knowing eyes watched him until he departed through the Bifrost.

When Loki landed on Alfheim, Princess Sigyn was waiting for him at the landing site. She told him Erik was waiting at the palace before Loki could ask, and they rode back as fast as they could. As promised, Erik was in Loki’s bedroom, wringing his hands, his face red and blotchy. Sigyn gave the pair of them privacy and closed the door behind her without a word.

Erik ran to Loki and tried to hold him, but Loki stepped back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Erik took a deep breath. “Because I didn’t know,” he said. “Not until my father wrote to me, asking me to go home for the remaining of the season and dropped that bomb over dinner.”

Loki closed his eyes, tears burning to get out. Erik was still explaining something about a confusing situation involving Princess Finja and a stables boy, and an offer made long ago to Erik’s house to be a part of the Royal Family through marriage. Loki knew of such a pact, but they both always thought Erik’s older brother, Stefan, would be the one to fulfill it.

“Loki, you have to believe me, I would’ve never led you on like this…” Erik said, wrapping his arms tightly around a very stiff Loki. “I couldn’t exactly tell them my heart already has an owner, like Stefan did.”

“I do believe you,” Loki muttered, slowly leaning into Erik’s embrace and holding the back of his neck. He buried his face in Erik’s hair, taking in his sandalwood scent he had missed so much.

“Will you be leaving?”

Erik looked up and shook his head softly. “Not yet. I said I wanted to finish what I started. My mother wasn’t happy, but they allowed me to remain here until the end of this course.”

Loki stroked Erik’s cheek. “10 years. It’s not enough.”

“It will never be enough, but it is what we have.” Erik started playing with the strings of Loki’s tunic. “Besides…” Erik gulped hard, mulling over what he wanted to say.

“What?”

“Loki, you know this is doomed. It has been doomed from the very start. No matter how much we want this to last forever, it can’t.”

Loki knew Erik’s words were true. Just as his mother had said, diplomacy takes precedence, and it wasn’t just Erik. Loki was a prince, and as prince he was expected to fulfill a role that didn’t allow him to marry Erik, or any other man for that matter. Least of all on Asgard, where such unions were not only frowned upon, but still illegal under Odin’s law.

“We can still make the best of what time we have left.” Loki repeated his mother’s words with a weak smile, and leaned his forehead against Erik’s.

“I love you, my longshanks. Don’t you dare doubt that, ever.”

“I love you too, my tadpole.”

Lifting his chin up, Loki kissed Erik slowly, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. Before long, the kisses grew heated and hungry, leaving them breathless.

“Maybe I should - go,” Erik breathed out.

“Not yet,” Loki muttered against Erik’s neck, nipping and kissing the soft flesh under his ear. Then traveled back to reclaim his mouth.

Erik gripped Loki’s shirt, undoing the laces as Loki walked him backwards. Once his knees hit the bed, Loki took hold of his hips and sat him on top of it. Wordlessly, Erik slid his hand under Loki’s shirt, making him break the kiss in surprise. Both were panting. Loki took Erik’s hands, shaking in anticipation.

“I- really- really should leave,” Erik repeated, biting his lip.

Loki shook his head, and removed his tunic slowly.

Erik never left Loki’s room that night.

<< Chapter 11 – Chapter 13 >>

@igotloki @xalgaliareptx @fairlightswiftly @christy-winchester @silverhart93 @claiming-loyalty-to-loki @honeybournehippy @unseelie1963

#Loki #Loki Fanfic #Loki Helason #odin's a+ parenting #Hela (marvel)#DOTL #Death Of The Lie

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shinobicyrus · 7 years

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DnD Homebrew: Cloud Goblins

Squeezing through the crowded streets of the town bazaar, an adventurer spots a group of four small figures selling wares at their flamboyant covered wagon, halfling size but otherwise unidentifiable in their hooded robes. Their faces are covered by hand-crafted masks, painted and jeweled and every bit as fine as the rings, amulets, and necklaces they’ve laid out on a folded blue branta-fur blanket.

A distinct culture rather than an offshoot race, cloud goblins come from goblin settlements that live up on high, secluded mountains under the stewardship of skyejotunen, better known as cloud giants.

More benevolent cloud giants have a history of claiming humanoids they find on “their” mountains as tributaries, and goblins are all-too familiar with being pressed into the service of more powerful creatures. Still, their new masters were a sight more preferable to bugbear bullies or some hobgoblin warlord; even the giant race’s Ordning seemed only a few steps removed from their own caste system.

Under the sky jotuns’ protection, the goblins found themselves free from predatory creatures or adventurers, and even the smallest scraps of a cloud giant’s garden was more than enough to feed entire households for months. Absent of the constant desperation that defined goblin life in a hostile world, the tribes grew and flourished. They learned the giant tongue along with their own, began crafting jotun-sized jewelry and other finery to give to their treasure-hungry Lords, and even began to emulate them: exploring art and music, wearing fine clothes and elaborate masks- a few even being taught wizardries and walking among the clouds.

To pay their Lords’ tribute and satisfy their own taste for riches, the cloud goblins began venturing out of their removed mountainside settlements to make their way as wandering artisans and merchants, gaining as much a reputation for fine craftsmanship as their enigmatic masks.

Out in the world, a cloud goblin removes their mask only in the company of fellow tribe-members. An air of mystery does wonders for sales, but they also learned quickly that most townsfolk tend to be friendlier if they don’t know they are doing business with goblins.

#Dungeons and Dragons #Homebrew #DnD Homebrew #Goblins #Cy's Campaign #was racking my brain trying to think of how to pull of mysterious masked merchants #got a flash of inspiration #pretty proud of them

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geeks4squeaks-blog · 7 years

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|The Verdant Prince|

Chapter 11: Vomiting Vanguards

We landed with a heavy thud, and within seconds a wave of nausea hit me. I rolled off of Bjorn's back, falling to the damp ground abruptly. Bjorn clomped around anxiously as I vomited once.

"Never done that before?" Orgnar asked. He shook his head but he smiled ever so slightly. I groaned loudly before standing up on shaky legs, leaning on Bjorn for support. I blinked a few times, straining my eyes to see what was around me.

The sky was not dark like Asgard's had been. Instead it was a charcoal grey- still dark but not nearly as dark as before. Snowy capped mountains scattered the vast land, making a basin shaped terrain. The ground was littered with tall dry grass and sprouts of exotic weeds and herbs. I leaned Bjorn towards Orgnar further, making room for people.

Jotunhiem suddenly didn't feel so different from Asgard. Yes, it was a whole different realm but the air and atmosphere didn't feel too different. I guess I didn't know what I expected. It was oddly beautiful, in a simplistic way. There was no giant wild golden buildings that could blind you in the mid morning sun. The sky painted itself lazily over the mountains and the air smelled fresh and clear.

The ground beneath my feet was damp, most likely from light rain not long ago and the grass tickled my knees gently.

Suddenly, another pair of warriors fell out of a mid-high gap in the sky. They fell with the same heavy thud as I had. It was Heskell and Asmund. Heskell rubbed his head and lead his horse slowly forward. Asmund on the other hand was a vomiting mess on the ground. I could only see his heaving back peaking out of the tall vegetation. I couldn't help but smile a bit, at least I hadn't been the only one.

Finally, Asmund heaved himself up onto Az's sturdy back and led her over to the slowly growing bunch of warriors.

Asmund had dark bags under his eyes, making his face look even more pale and sunken than before. He sat up straight however, knowing we had more to worry about. I pat the back of his calf comfortingly as if to tell him I knew how it felt.

With time, all twenty of us had landed in Jotunhiem. The bile scent of what we had eaten throughout the day rose and had made it's way to the group.

"Alright, stay close and do not separate under any circumstances. We head for the mountains and hopefully will make it there before first light. Expect to get colder and more rainy as we ascend. Be alert for any Jotuns, we have landed a little of course." Orgnar grumbled, those of us who had been walking now mounted our beasts. Eight of the regular warriors would be trudging away by foot, only two of them leading pack horses.

We all trotted beside each other, Orgnar leading the way as the Princes rode on either side of him.

I glanced to the side to see Sif. Her eyes darted around as if expecting to be attacked on all sides at once. She held her reigns tightly in her hands, her face stern.

"Not as bad as I thought it would be," I said softly, turning Bjorn more towards her. She snapped her attention to me.

"Jotunhiem or the Biofrost?" Sif asked. I give her a soft smile.

"Jotunhiem." I replied. "It's fairly quiet." Sif's face was firm again.

"Just wait till we reach the mountains. There can easily be mountain dwellers and once we are through the mountains we meet with one of the camps resulting in bloodshed." She hissed. I nibble at the inside of my cheek, the sickly nausea from the Biofrost bubbling in my stomach again. I decided it was best to not speak again to Sif, for my own safety. I was simply trying to ease my own anxiety towards the situation.

I slid in next to Heskell and Volstagg and form a triangle. For the rest of the way, I remained silent, letting my mind wander even though I knew it would be a mistake.

By the time we reached the rocky uneven base of the mountain side, the golden orb of a sub had began to rise. Orgnar sent Volstagg and two footmen out scouting for set of caves or shelter from the light. It was nearly an hour of growing angst before the sound of clomping hooves alerted us of their presence.

"There is a rather large cave system to the left about two klicks away. We only explored into it a little ways before reporting back. It's about ten minutes until arrival," Volstagg reported. Orgnar nodded and the two soldiers took their place in the crowd of other foot warriors.

Within ten minutes, as expected, we had arrived in the cave system. The now blazing orange sun cast a faint warm glow that flooded into cave. It should have felt nice and inviting on our skins but it was not. Instead it was rather cold and dry-unwelcome.

The company unpacked quickly, and we all piled in. The horses were all gathered in the corner, the few that the regular warriors brought fretted quietly.

"You three will be on first watch. If anything moves concerning our location, alert the rest." Orgnar said pointedly, his voice echoing as he spoke. "The rest get some sleep before the next shift. We leave by the first break of moonlight." We nodded in understanding as we laid out our bedrolls. I plopped down on tired feet and sighed as I pulled back the bedrolls' first layer of cloth.

Asmund set up to the left of me. He snatched a small piece of smoked meat from his bag. He took a hearty bite before handinf me the other half carelessly. I nodded my thanks to him before taking a few thoughtful bites. I hadn't noticed how my stomach was practically screaming for food.

"What do you think so far?" Asmund breathed out, kicking off his boots. I copied his action, freeing my feet of the tight armored boots and wiggling my toes happily.

"The Biofrost was not a pleasant experience." I suggested. Asmund snorted sarcasticly. "But the new armor is extravagant."

"No it surely was not." He replied. "And by the Gods yes! The new weapons were crafted by the royal forge master himself. And the armor, color coordinated and made by the royal smithy. Absolutely stunning." Asmund spewed out. I smiled softly, he reminded me of a young lad opening a gift on the eve of Hallows day.

"I do wonder how the colors were picked. I understand some of them, others not so much- like my own." I replied. Asmund hummed out in agreement, taking his hand and rubbing the small dark stubble he had on his jaw and chin.

"Family colors could very well have something to do with it, other times soul color? Your magic or aura? I mean, the Queen herself picks them," Asmund suggested, his deep green eyes flickering with curiosity. It faintly reminded me of my sisters. I quickly shut down that horrid thought. It was not the time to be emotional.

"I suppose, but my families color is not white. It's rather the color of Heskell's dark blue and gold. White is no where near that. Besides, who wants white apparel when they go to battle? It will only stain." I pondered.

"It's not stain able unless you try very hard. It's made of the Vanir silk." Asmund pointed out. He sighed before speaking. "I do know white is the color of innocence, purity, and youth."

"I am not innocent. I have taken the lives of many without hesitation or the blinking of an eye. Therefore doesn't make me pure. And Odin knows my youth was taken the day I was given it." I said, the cold truth making me pick at my nails anxiously.

He sighed, glancing at me in a concerning manner. "How are you fairing now?" He had changed the subject.

I tensed at his carefully spoken words. I had done my best to keep my mind from wandering to the ugly boiling anger I felt. I needed a clear head otherwise I would act rashly. I knew I was telling myself that for comfort- I would act rashly anyway. I had not got all worked up to tumble back down.

"I am alive, no?" I replied shortly. With that, I burrowed into the soft fur of the bedroll. Asmund sighed from behind me and I suspected he had done the same as the cloth rustled behind me.

A sharp kick to my side awoke me abruptly. I opened my eyes groggily to see who had been ballsy enough to wake me. Asmund stood over me, a teasing half smile playing coyly at his lips.

"It's nightfall. We move in ten," He said quietly, stepping over me. I flicked the back of his half in retaliation but I was only met with the soft 'ping' of metal.

I sat up and began rolling my now warm fading bedroll up and slipped on my boots. The metal plates of my boots echoed softly in the nearly silent cavern. Everyone had woken and begun packing, no talking was done in fear it would be too loud as we were known to be loud beings.

I approached Bjorn's side, grazing my palm against his backside as I hooked the bedroll onto his saddle pack. He simple snorted in a small greeting before going back to gnaw on the dried grass that had been laid out for the beasts. I continued fiddling with Bjorn's saddle straps and reigns in a paranoid fashion.

I flicked my eyes curiously around the chilled cave system. To the side where Asmund and I laid were Heskell and Sif who munched thoughtfully on dried jerky, Asmund I spotted was not too far off from me, tending to his horse as well. Finally, I caught my eyes on Orgnar. He was speaking quietly with the Princes. Thor stood firm and tall, his arms crossed in front of him and his brows furrowed in concentration. Loki, however, was quite the opposite. Though he was still listening, he was leaning against the cave wall, flicking his hands around while creating little spurts of magic. Suddenly he snapped his eyes to mine and I nearly choked on my own saliva from surprise. It was as if he felt my gaze on him.

Loki rolled his emerald eyes before pushing himself upright and imitating Thor's pose. He held his chin high in a prissy manner as if he really was trying to act like his elder brother. I huffed in annoyance and continued fiddling around with straps for no true reason but to ease my own building nerves.

Within minutes we had all mounted our horses and began the journey in the dark of the night. The mountain path had become steeper and narrower as we trudged on. The fact that no one was allowed to light the way with a torch was even more devastating considering that one wrong footstep could lead to a deadly fall. The crescent of the moon the only light guiding the way.

"Will we reach one of the cities in time?" I asked as Bjorn sauntered careful to Orgnar's side. Both Princea remained to the left of Orgnar and I, their faces set in grim stone like features. I was starting to think that specific look was a family trait, as both Princes and Queen Frigga did so.

"No. We intend to stray from Andvari and Fáfnir as they are main cities. Hopefully, by avoiding them, we can keep them unaware that we are here. The King of Jotunhiem did not give his consent for us to even come here. To that degree means if anyone, even true allies of Asgard stationed here, cannot defend us. It would be treason of the highest. And that, Lady Y/N, is why we travel in the shadows. We intend on no one being aware of us," Orgnar explained quietly.

"I figured as such. So we are to expect attack even from civilians?" I asked softly, praying the answer was false.

"Expect the greatest of attacks from the civilians. Jotunhiem, like Asgard, rules in tribes or clans. This means all though that tradition fades in the east where the capital is, western people have no need to abide by the rules. Each clan has a clan leader, and like most clans they feel the need to defend themselves from others. That is why we believed the barbarians that attacked Asgard were a heavily fortified war tribe. The attack was strategic, planned, and powerful." Orgnar explained further. I nodded my head but I knew that in the dark of the night he would not see it. "That leaves a total of three tribes that fit that specific category."

"Three tribes." I let out a troubled sigh. "So they're working together." Orgnar nodded his head grimly.

"The tribes as a whole are known as the Jutes." He said.

"That translates specifically to Giants. Ice Giants really," I said out loud. Orgnar nodded his head again.

"Giants of the mountains, though they don't take residence in the mountains. From what we know they prefer basins or craters. It's flatter land, easier make, and a good hiding place. I won't be surprised though if they do have a strategic mountain tunnel system." He grunted, shrugging his cloak up his shoulders as a particularly bitter gut of wind bit at exposed skin.

"And the three separate tribes?" I asked, a growing interest for the Jotuns kindling my words. Orgnar nodded his head and the metal beads on his beard clinked quietly.

"I am glad you're getting your information in while you can," Orgnar commented, amusement playing at his words. I shrugged and glanced behind me to see darkness as expected but was met with the soft echo of clomping hooves and footsteps.

"The three tribes are the Remsi, Eddas, and the Valtava. Remsi is the largest of the trio and take residence in the basins and flat ground. The Eddas, mountain folk of the east. Oddly enough they're kin of the kings ancestors so for them to turn against him is most unusual." Orgnar said thoughtfully. "And last are the Valtava. Nothing too special about them expect for we know close to nothing about them. As far as we know they are extremely secretive, we don't know where they live, what their part was in the attack, anything. All we do know is the basic information and the fact that their warriors have the Jutes symbol painted on themselves and their flags. They surely support the cause."

"But they are in the same basin as the actual Jutes, correct?" I asked.

"Possibly," Orgnar grunted, scratching his charcoal and silver lined beard. How reassuring.

~*~*~

The company had been traveling for nearly an hour before the mountain pathway had become dangerously narrow. Occasionally I could hear the sound of pebbles and rocks tumbling down the mountain sides, never hearing the actual fall. To be truly honest, I was afraid, as anyone should if they were inches away from their death. But we were trained to not show weakness, to be strong at all times and to always have the clearest of heads.

"We will be approaching the gateway to the Southern territory basins, be aware and alert at all times." Orgnar said lowly, his voice carrying and sending uncanny shivers down our spines. The soon approaching morning set soft but thick fog into the mountains, our already poor sight of the landscape becoming more so.

Suddenly, someone from behind let out a guttural shriek and many rocks tumbled down, creating a large array of boulders scraping together. The sound echoed in all the way down to its fall, as if it wouldn't end. The few of us in horseback swiveled around sharply, our horses not taking kindly to the height and angle they stood at.

"And by my beard keep it down! There could be anyone listening!" Orgnar growled angrily, his horse grunting as if it too were scolding the poor soul.

Suddenly, in the distance the soft glow of torch fire flickered. The thick layer of built up fog, clouded it's main light. The fire light flickered once more, moving slowly, coming closer but not close enough. The fire was no bigger than an infants head so it was farther than we had once thought, but that didn't change a thing.

Everyone fell silent. Even the beasts seemed to hold their breath anxiously. Within a few seconds of pain staking silence the light disappeared around a corner, its once dim glow nothing more than the dull gray void from before. Even after that, most deemed it wise to remain quiet. Finally, a few footmen let out sighs of relief and happy noises.

To my surprise Prince Thor, not Orgnar, turned his horse sharply back to the chatty group.

"You fools," he hissed. Orgnar's cheat rose and fell quickly before he spoke. Loki sat up beside him on his ebony horse, looking as distressed as the rest of us. Thor met the guilt ridden warriors with icy blue eyes.

"Cease your voices. There would be only one reason why the torch man ran. It's not because he believed everything was fine-" Orgnar growled, his voice dangerously low. Asmund glanced to me quickly as we both realized what he had meant.

"It is because they know we are here." I finished his sentence, a sicken feeling gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

Tag list: @cutefuto

~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Author’s Note:

So what I wanted to say is don't be afraid to comment! Go nuts! I love getting comments and I ALWAYS respond.

I really want to know what you all are thinking!

Like...

Who's your favorite character besides Loki and Thor? What do you think is going to happen next? What do you want to see more of? What do you want to see less of? What do you like and what do you not like? Fanart? Do you like the portrayal of the characters? Theories? Favorite chapter? Favorite chapter name? Who do you think is going to die? (oh yes, I am killing a few off and I already know who ;) )

Just anything ans everything. I love feed back and it really motivates me! Have fun reading and thank you once again for reading! ♥️♥️

#loki #fanfiction

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storiesofwildfire · 7 years

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Lost in the Tundra

{ @soresuandsnark }

♔—- “I’m not sure we should be doing this,” Ulla murmured from her place beside her tiny-yet-older brother. Loki had been the same size for centuries and he’d been considered a fully grown adult for quite some time now. It didn’t seem that the eldest prince would ever grow to meet even the smallest amongst the Jotun people. Ulla was not much younger than Loki, but she towered over Loki, to the point where Loki could stack a clone of himself on top of her.

Loki gave her sister an annoyed glare from down below. “This was your idea, Ulla. You’re the one that insisted that we ought to practice,” he pointed out.

“I know, but... whatever we’re meddling with doesn’t feel right.”

“We’re creating a portal? What’s so wrong about that?” Loki asked, refusing to relent on the annoyance in his eyes.

Ulla sighed softly, giving her brother a bashful look. Judging from their size difference, anyone would think that Ulla was the more powerful and intimidating one, but Loki’s gifts in magic outranked her’s. He was small, yes, but he was strong with his craft and he was more intelligent than anyone she knew. Not to mention, his charm went a long way in making up for his lack of height and his silver-tongue was a dangerous weapon all its own. If nothing else, she respected her brother and held him in the highest regards. She didn’t like when he looked at her like that.

“I don’t know, Loki,” she finally admitted. “Whatever we’ve managed to break through to feels foreign... wrong.”

“Of course, it does. Neither of us has ever had much of a chance to explore any realms beyond Jotunheim. How are we supposed to know what to expect on the other side?” There were a few times when Loki and Ulla were brave enough to shapeshift and sneak through existing bridges between Jotunheim and other realms, but they never really mingled and they were far too afraid to wander too far away from the tunnels that would lead them home.

But something did feel off about this portal. Although it was completed--Loki could literally stick his hand through and his hand would appear in some other realm--he couldn’t actually see anything about the existing world on the other side. No sound, no nothing.

At least until he heard a young man say, “Obi-Wan, could you listen to me for once? I don’t think this is a good idea. Something about this place feels wrong. Let’s just get out of here, okay? We should--whoa!”

Before Anakin could finish his thought, he stepped through the portal on accident. He couldn’t see it, he could only sense a very strong and bizarre shift in the Force of the planet they landed on and the second he slipped through the unseen doorway, he tripped and tumbled right down into the snow. “What in the Force...” he grumbled as he attempted to right himself up, only to come face to face with two blue creatures with intricate markings running along their basically bare bodies and horns protruding from their heads. Most noticeably, one was massive, while the other was more manageable to his size.

#( au verse ; jotun prince ) next in line ; the runt of the litter #( side muse ) ulla #c; anakin skywalker #c; obi-wan kenobi #soresuandsnark #( long response ) if it were easy everyone would do it #thread; lost in the tundra #closed starter

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scrltt · 3 years

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a child of two worlds

part I.

Some time ago, a creature was banished from his home world, sent to rot on earth with the pathetic mortal creatures that lived boring lives. He happened to land in a country called Sokovia, one that was almost isolated from the rest of the world. For centuries, he lived in the mountains near a small village in the north of the country. A few people had seen him on occasion, and it started an urban legend of a monster who would eat little children should they wander too far outside of the village.

However, once he had managed to figure out how to disguise himself properly, the Jotun started traveling down to the village. He pretended to be a peddler, selling all sorts of small carvings and trinkets he had started to craft during his isolation. The stranger referred to himself as Asger, a man with no home to call his own and sold his craft all over the region. Villagers soon were able to recognize him every time he came down with his wagon and welcome him joyfully. Asger, in part, grew fond of the human species. They were warm and kind, a stark contrast to the icy coldness of his own people.

He had particularly caught the eye of a young woman who loved to sit and listen to the tales he had to tell of his travels. Asger noticed her, too, and one day left a small carving of a goat at her doorstep as a gesture of goodwill. The woman started bringing him a single, scarlet rose as a welcoming present each time he returned.

Their relationship soon blossomed. He learned her name was Natalya, and, once he had earned her full trust, revealed his true identity. Although, she seemed unsurprised by this. She in turn, revealed to him that she was a witch, a powerful one. So they grew even closer. Asger moved in with Natalya in her small cottage, and they married not long after. Natalya soon fell pregnant, much to her husband’s delight and terror simultaneously. He was concerned that his giant’s blood might kill her. But she laughed it off and told him that she was tougher than she looked.

Eventually, she gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl. The proud parents named them Pietro and Wanda. The boy looked just like his father, silvery blond hair, and a startlingly strong set of lungs that rivaled Asger’s war cry. Wanda, dear sweet Wanda was the spitting image of her mother, beautiful in every aspect. However, the new family’s happiness was not to be. For a darkness was looming on the horizon that no one could have seen coming.

part II here

#child of two worlds // jotun sorceress #i'll add the accent marks on mobile #wow this got really really long.

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enterinit · 6 years

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Sundered: Eldritch Edition is now live on Xbox One

Sundered: Eldritch Edition is now live on Xbox One. The official game description: Sundered is a chaotic hand-drawn metroidvania where you resist or embrace ancient eldritch powers. Confront hordes of terrifying enemies in an ever-changing world inspired by the works of H.P. Lovecraft. Sundered is a challenging and unique take on a classic genre from the creators of Jotun, now with local co-op! You play Eshe, a wanderer in a ruined world, trapped in ever-changing caverns filled with hordes of terrifying enemies. Harness the power of corrupted relics to defeat gigantic bosses, at the cost of your humanity. Resist or embrace. Sundered: Eldritch Edition includes the Magnate of the Gong update, adding local co-op multiplayer support for up to 4 players, along with new areas and a chaotic battle against the new Magnate of the Gong boss! Features: Beautiful hand-drawn art and animation Chaotic encounters against hordes of enemies Epic boss fights Optional local co-op for up to 4 players Hundreds of upgrades and multiple character builds A mix of hand-crafted & procedural levels Multiple endings and over 15 hours of gameplay Read the full article

#Games #XBOX

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wanderingjotun · 8 years

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So, I kind of totally forgot to announce this here...but my Etsy shop is having a grand opening sale through January 13th! Use the code GRANDOPENING for 25% off:

Oracle readings with a one-of-a-kind nerdy (mostly anime, honestly) deck of my own design

Custom digital sigil designs

Pagan prayer bead sets (including custom orders or commissions!)

Steampunk jewelry

Prayer necklaces (including custom orders or commissions!)

If you’re strapped for cash but want to make an order, please let me know and we can work something out! Also, please share and help me get the word out--the sooner I can start making something off my crafts, the more energy I’ll have to devote to looking for a new day job that doesn’t give me panic attacks due to misogyny and transphobia--yaaaaaay.

#Wandering Jotun Crafts #Nonir Makes a Thing #Pop culture paganism #fandomoracle #Oracle readings #Custom sigils #pagan prayer beads #etsyshop

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wanderingjotun · 6 years

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2018 Recap

Nonir's 2018 recap in convenient list form (complete with sweet links)!

Holy shitballs, it’s 2019. Is anyone else struggling with this fact? Like, 2018 was simultaneously the longest an shortest year of my life. And, because I can, I’m going to start this year with some musing on the roller coaster of a last one.

In 2018, I:

Started medication for my depression and anxiety that has helped a lot

Vended my first events with my business

Wrote and published a Loke…

View On WordPress

#Aces High Jokers Low #lokean devotional #new year #Nonir&039;s Personal Flailing #Wandering Jotun Crafts

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wanderingjotun · 6 years

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#Wandering Jotun Crafts #Business stuffs #Oh crap look at my face #Gratitude practice

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wanderingjotun · 6 years

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Apparently I’m starting a more formal “business”y blog over on my website. Because reasons. So. That’s a thing.

#Wandering Jotun Crafts #Business stuffs

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fadingcoast · 6 years

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Death of the Lie || Chapter 5: Unworthy

AUTHORS: @fandom-and-feminism & @fadingcoast

PAIRING: None. RATING: Teen. WARNINGS: Graphic depictions of violence. Graphic depiction of childbirth. Child abuse. Angst. Bullying.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: CHILD ABUSE & SUICIDE

Taglist is open!!

Masterlist

@igotloki @xalgaliareptx @wolfpawn @fairlightswiftly

Chapter 5: Unworthy

Despite Odin’s reservations, Frigga’s plan worked perfectly.

Loki was finally able to understand that whatever was “wrong” with him, wasn’t actually wrong. For the first time in his life he had something that belonged only to him. With his mother’s guidance, the little prince of Asgard quickly learned how to control his powers and his inheritance.

It was a slow process, not without problems.

As Odin had predicted, people talked. Asgard, as Odin himself, expected the younger heir to be just like his brother: adept with weapons, strong and athletic, another image of a righteous god. Seidr was a woman's craft, not for a Prince.

But Loki was none of that. He was a born sorcerer, and training proved that he was better adapted to smaller, lighter weapons. Broadswords and axes were too heavy and bulky for his lean build. Daggers and short swords were more his type and style.

As usual, Odin opposed to Loki’s weapons of choice, as he opposed to basically everything about Loki. His magic, his weapons, his studies, his books. Even the color of his clothes had been an issue. Green? Really? Could he mock me any further?

At least, this time, Odin kept it to himself, after he saw Loki become quite skilled at handling knives.

Thor also got out of Loki’s hair. After the pond incident, he was grounded for months. Frigga made sure Thor knew he had almost killed his brother that day. The boys’ relationship never fully recovered. Thor would play and train with Loki, be nice to him and pretend they were friends at family dinners and social events. But afterwards, Thor would leave with his friends and Loki would find solace in the library.

Loki also learned the hard way that he wasn’t welcome to join in his brother’s revels, even on the rare occasion that he wanted to.

When the day finally came that Thor had proven himself worthy to wield the legendary hammer Mjölnir, the castle celebrated with a lavish party. Of course it was a day to honour the heir to Asgard’s throne, if he was going to grow to be a mighty king with an unstoppable weapon. Never mind that the Prince in question was still a boy, in Aesir standards, and would likely not inherit the throne for several more centuries at least. To earn a weapon such as Mjölnir meant that Thor was on the right path.

Loki had genuinely felt happy for his brother, despite the aching jealousy gnawing at the pit of his stomach each time Thor would show off his strength by tossing Mjölnir in the air and summoning it back to his hand with ease. Despite his better judgment, Loki had decided to show his support to please his parents, and had stood beside Thor while he talked to his friends and enjoyed being the center of attention as usual. A group of at least a dozen of their peers had gathered around them to watch Thor retell the story of him finally being able to lift the hammer as if it was tale as old and as mythical as the Norns and not something that happened less than a week before.

As Thor retold the story yet again for a fresh group of blushing girls, Loki's mind wandered to the discovery of his own unworthiness, mere moments before Thor had lifted the hammer. The two had descended to the vault following an argument about who was stronger, where Loki had tried everything he knew (which, granted, was not much yet) to try to pick it up, and had watched with horror as Thor pushed past him, boasting about his power, and raised the hammer above his head as though it had weighed nothing. Loki was grateful that at least Thor had decided to leave out that part of the story. But just seeing the hammer now, Thor twirling it around by the strap like it was made of air, was a reminder, was proof, of everything he had believed about himself for most of his young life.

He was weak. He was less.

He was unworthy.

“Come, Loki, why don't you try to lift it?” Fandral’s arrogant voice interrupted Loki's mental spiral and Loki looked to the young boy's handsome face, unamused.

“It is obvious to all, except perhaps you, it seems, that I cannot,” Loki reminded him dryly. “Neither can you, for that matter.”

Loki's words did not deter Fandral. “Come on, I want to see you try! It'll be fun!” He was joined by several other people egging him on. One boy even insulted Loki's integrity by saying if he was a true prince then he should be able to lift it too. Loki didn't want to engage with these ill-mannered courtiers, but he could see his father watching from his seat on the throne, so he sighed and mumbled, “Fine.”

Thor furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, an unspoken question - Are you sure? Loki nodded briefly, holding out his hand. Thor shrugged his shoulders - all right then, your choice - and held out the handle for Loki to grasp. The instant Thor released his grip, the hammer dropped to the floor with a deafening crash, crushing Loki's foot beneath it.

Loki's scream echoed around the throne room, followed by laughter rippling through the crowd. Thor stood there, paralyzed with fear until Frigga burst through the throng and knelt next to Loki. The Queen tried unsuccessfully to get the hammer off of Loki’s foot. She snapped her fingers at her elder son.

“Thor! The hammer!”

The elder Prince shook his head and lifted the hammer, making Loki howl in fresh pain again. Tears poured down his face and embarrassment flushed his face bright red as he watched everyone - even Odin - laughing at his mistake.

Everyone, Loki realized, save for Thor, with his unreadable expression set like stone.

The Queen called for a guard to carry Loki to the Healers, as this was one injury that needed tending to by someone more experienced. She trailed close behind the Einherjar, holding Loki's hand, and stared daggers at the people still watching with a smile on their faces.

“Shame on all of you,” she scolded them. “The Prince only wants to be included, and this is how you repay him.”

In Eir’s capable hands, Loki was set to rights in no time, but his foot still ached for weeks after. The scene in the throne room kept playing in his head on repeat, as though to torture him. Every pulse of pain in his foot was like a mantra: Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy.

Loki resorted to keep away from Thor and his friends ever since. He dived head first into his studies. Magic was hard and demanding: the perfect getaway from life itself. He still had to endure a few hours of weapon training 3 times a week. Most of the time, he was able to train by himself or with common soldiers.

Other times, the weapons master insisted he should train with Thor. Not wanting to anger his father, Loki did his best to hold his own against his brother. But deep inside he was terrified. He just wished to finish as fast as possible, leave and avoid Thor’s friends before they could get to him. Loki’s nightmares were full of what they did to him when he failed to escape.

As she did every quarter moon, Frigga walked into her studio, carrying several books in her arms. It was nearly time for Loki’s lessons, and she had found some things in the library she thought he might enjoy.

The door was slightly open when she arrived. It wasn’t like Loki to show up on time, let alone before she did. Her questions were answered the moments she heard Odin’s booming voice.

“How? How did you do that?”

“I-I don’t know!” Loki said.

“Well, you better get knowing real fast, boy! How can you not know that you stabbed one of your friends!”

“He’s not my friend. He’s Thor’s friend!” Loki snarled. “That’s why you care so much… you don’t care about me at all!!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” Odin towered over Loki. “I am your father and I am your king!”

“As if you act like it!” He said defiantly.

Odin wasn’t going to stand for Loki disrespecting him. Just like Hela. With a rapid swing, Odin smacked Loki with the back of his hand and sent him flying to the floor. Loki looked up to his father in disbelief, too stunned to say anything. His eyes were shining with tears, but he willed himself not to cry.

“ODIN!” Frigga said, dropping all the books she was carrying.

Odin was furious. Loki shook violently, one hand trying to hide a growing bruise on his left eye, his other hand hovering over where Odin struck him. A bloody dagger lay on the floor by his side: gleaming obsidian metal shone in the golden light, sharp and cold.

Frigga went to her son and took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Loki, tell me what happened.”

“They were making--” Loki swallowed hard and looked at his father. He didn’t want to admit they were bullying him. “They said things I don’t agree with.”

He closed his eyes and saw them making fun of him for being skinny, and weak. For wielding magic instead of weapons. For all the things Thor was and he wasn’t. He saw them pushing him to the wall. He felt their punches on his stomach, their fist on his face. He saw Thor a few feet away doing nothing.

“So you decided to stab them?” Odin said, snapping Loki out of his head.

“Only after they gave me this!” Loki yelled, pointing at his black eye. “I don’t even know-”

“How did you conjure the dagger, Loki?” Frigga said softly.

“I don’t know.” Loki muttered. “I just wished I had it and I did.” He looked at the dagger on the floor.

Frigga glared at the king. “I will take it from here, Odin,” she said as calmly as she could. Her tone, though, left no room for Odin to argue. He left.

Loki took the dagger and gripped it tight in his hand. “Why does he hate me so?”

“Your father doesn’t know better.” Frigga said, pulling Loki up, and made him sit on the couch.

“Everything I do is always wrong, he always finds a reason to reproach me.” Loki started shaking again, feeling the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. “Nothing I ever do is fine by him.” Against his will, he started crying, but tried his best not to let it show. Frigga still noticed. “He doesn’t care I was being beaten.”

“You what?” Frigga said, suddenly worried.

“The other kids…” Loki sniffled. “They- they-”

“Loki. Tell me exactly what is going on.”

Exhausted, angry, and frustrated, Loki broke down. He was still holding the dagger on his hand. Frigga noticed the soft layer of frost on top of it, and the frozen blood. Holding Loki’s wrist, she made him drop it before he saw it too. Loki wrapped his arms around his mother and hid his head in her shoulder, crying softly. Odin always said crying was for the weak, so Loki always fought against it. But now, wrapped in the warm embrace of his mother, he just gave up.

Loki told Frigga about the bullying, the verbal and physical abuse he was being subjected to. He told her of the beatings, the name calling, the jokes at his expense. Frigga just held him close until he was finished. Loki felt the tight knot in his throat had loosened a bit.

“… and then today, Fandral was all over me. I lost control. I don’t remember summoning the dagger, but it was there and I--”

“You defended yourself.”

“That’s not how father sees it.” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“It is what it is.” Frigga reassured him. “No matter what your father says.”

She waited another moment, until she felt Loki had relaxed enough.

“Do you remember that day in the pond?” Frigga started. Loki just nodded, it wasn’t a pleasant memory. “Remember I told you that sometimes, a sorcerer who doesn’t know better might lose his temper? And therefore lose control over his seidr.” Frigga spoke softly, placing her hand on his, using magic to heal the cuts and bruises.

“You said I had some magic in me and that day it protected me from the heat.” Loki said softly, watching his wounds heal.

“This time is not different from that time. Seidr is meant to protect us. You were being attacked, and your magic reacted to it. Gave you a weapon so you could defend yourself.”

Loki looked at his mother, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “It makes sense… But-- I should be able to control it now. The pond thing - I was a little kid!”

“You still are a little kid.” Frigga said with a half smile, and Loki huffed. “You keep learning. Studying. Practising. You never stop learning with seidr.” Frigga explained. “You can use it as your weapon, or you can use it a shield.” As she spoke, Frigga made her own seidr conjure a small gold knife and then a golden bubble. “Seidr has many ways,” he added, making her hands glow green as she again used it to heal Loki’s wounds. His face felt warm and itchy, the swelling and the bruising fading slowly.

“Can you teach me how to do this? It will come handy,” Loki said with a sad chuckle.

Frigga felt her heart sink. “I will speak to your father about this.”

“He won’t do anything,” the boy mumbled, emotionless.

“You are still a prince.”

Loki pressed his lips together. “They are Thor’s friends, mother.”

The underlines of that phrase were clear. Frigga knew not to push it. Instead, she focused in getting the books for today’s lesson back in one piece.

“We weren’t supposed to start with teleporting and summoning for a few months, but I think you need to learn how to control it.” Frigga picked the black dagger from the floor and gave it to Loki. “Put it away.”

Loki looked at his mother, confused. “I don’t know--”

“Yes, you do. You called for it, you can dismiss it.” Frigga said.

Loki stared at the blade and concentrated. It took him several seconds, but the dagger disappeared in a green flash. It surprised him. “Where did it go?”

Frigga handed him a book. “This will tell you all you need to know about that. Go get some rest, we’ll discuss it next lesson.”

Loki smiled faintly while taking the book from his mother, and went to his room.

While he was no longer showing the evidences of the beating he took that day, his body still felt it. He was sore and walking pained him. He needed to rest, shut his brain off.

Once in his chambers, he tried to read, but his muscles weren’t allowing him to find a comfortable position on the bed. He gave up and tried to sleep, but it was also proving difficult. After tossing around in bed for a couple of hours, he got up again.

“A bath could help…” He muttered to himself.

It was late. He didn’t want anyone coming to his chambers, so he locked all doors and got the bath ready himself. Once in the hot water, his body relaxed, but his mind didn’t.

His tired brain started playing all that had happened during day. His skin was unblemished and clean, but the pain was still there, coursing through his system like poison.

Images flashed in front of his eyes, reminding him of other painful days. There were so many of them, Loki had trouble finding even a small moment of happiness. His head throbbed.

If only I could make the pain stop.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. It took him a few tries, but he managed to conjure the black blade. He stared at it, wondering how such a small thing could elicit such a violent response from his father.

Loki felt tears burning in his eyes. No, it wasn’t the blade, it wasn’t his magic. It was him. Since he could remember, his father had hated him. No matter what he did… he was never going to be good enough. For anyone. Thor clearly didn’t give a shit about him either. He had witnessed first hand what his friends had done to him. Even if Thor hadn’t willingly taken part, his indifference hurt more than all the abuse.

As for the people of Asgard, he was just the spare: useless, disposable, discardable. Unworthy.

An idea grew in his mind, dark as the obsidian blade in his hand. A parasitic thought, convincing him that it was the only way to end the pain. Drain it like venom from a wound. His mind was so tired that any attempt to fight the thought was pointless. He surrendered to the thought.

The cold metal felt like a relief in his flesh. The blood dropping to the water looked almost beautiful. Dark figures swirling in the dim light. Loki repeated the motion, drawing another slash on his forearm. The blood was now flowing freely, like his tears. He didn’t even feel the pain anymore.

Loki did the same to his other wrist, cutting deeper.

Watching the blood pour out was cleansing.

I just hope mother will forgive me.

Somehow, he had willed his body not to heal. The wounds on his arms itched and prickled, but remained open. Blood poured out to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Tears tickled the sides of his head as he stared at the ceiling. Loki felt faint. His ears were buzzing. His sight was blurry. His hands couldn’t hold the blade any longer, it made a sharp sound when it clattered on the floor. He was fading away. The pain would stop any time now.

Mom?

<< Chapter 4 – Chapter 6 >>

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