#bash his head in with a hammer and burn him at the stake !!

[themoonandthedogstar]

“.. still Amadeo had a skill..” Marius when I get you !!

[crossoverworldtree]

John Henry

John Henry was a steel drivin' man, They say one day he'll die with that hammer in his hand. John Henry would whistle and just as often sing, But in the mountain in the mournin' you could hear his hammer ring. That Yankee had a great machine to drill the rock away, It was said to drill like ten tall men, all the live long day. The captain told John Henry, boy you got a willin' mind. But you'd best lay your hammer down, you won't beat this machine of mine. John Henry told the Captain, boss when you go to town Buy me a twenty-pound hammer and I'll drive that steel drill down. I swear by all that's holy, I'll drive that steel down. John Henry looked at the mountain, and he got in the lead to drive; But the rock was so tall, And John Henry was so small, That he hung his head and he cried. That Yankee had a great machine to steal their pride away, A machine of faceless, hateful men who play the part by day. The captain told John Henry, Son you got a willin' mind, But you'd best lay your hammer down, you won't beat this machine of mine. John Henry told the captain that a man is just a man, But before that machine can beat me down, I'll die with my hammer in my hand. John Henry told the captain that a man is just a man, And I swear by all that's right and wrong I'll kill you where you stand.

Name: John Wilson a.k.a. John Henry Date of Birth: 1917 Motivation: Revenge Critter Type: Slasher Attributes: Str 10, Dex 6, Con 8, Int 2, Per 3, Will 6 Ability Scores: Muscle 26, Combat 18, Brains 12, Life Points: 130 Drama Points: 10 Special Abilities: Hard to Kill 6, Slasher, Regeneration (con per minute), Obsession (Revenge), Severe Cruelty, Attractiveness -2, Reduced Damage (1/5 Bullet), Increased Life Points +30, Ambidexterity, Supernatural Senses (Empathy--Hatred only, geared towards racism), Armor Value 5 Name                -        Score        -        Damage        -        Notes Punch                -        18        -        25                -        Bash Kick                -        17        -        27                -        Bash Hammer        -        18        -        60                -        Bash Spike                -        18        -        27                -        Slash/Stab John Williams died in 1955 in Knoxville, Tennessee. Or rather, part of him died. He, his wife, and his daughters were lynched by Klansmen.  He served in the Second World War only to face a new enemy back home.  One that cost him more than anything. He survived, but his family did not.

But that's not completely true.  Part of him died back then, along with his family. But part of him lived on--for revenge. He made a costume, forged a few hammers, and became known as John Henry, after the folk hero.  He took violently (but never immediately lethal) wreaking vengeance against the Klan until he was outnumbered, hunted down, and killed in 1959.  He was lynched and burned at the stake. His murder managed to get an op-ed piece done by Edward R. Murrow to highlight the injustices in the South. Like many Slashers, he entered a dormant period until the early 60s, rising with the civil rights movement. Thankfully, possibly, it could be said that his soul had rejoined his family if there was true justice in the next world. His body, however, had become a vessel of his remaining anger and rage. For himself and others who have suffered and died due to racial injustice. It has less of a mind now, but more power to work its will than it ever did before.  Throughout his career as a Slasher, his target remained the Klan, as well as Klan sympathizers. In the mid-60s he was put down again.

When the Klan attempted to rise to power again in 1974 under David Dukes leadership, John Henry rose as well, meeting injustice with his harmers until they were crimson with blood. He was dormant again after 1983 when the largest Klan groups were crippled by social and legal pressures. However, in the early part of 2000, the Klan began a slow resurgence, exploiting hot-button issues of Gay Marriage, Immigration, Urban Crime, and later still the 9/11 atmosphere.  As the Klan rose, so did John Henry, ready to drive steel until the Klan is gone (and, later, Neo-Nazis and other white supremacist movements). Though the Klan today rarely practices the violence it preaches, letting 'lone gunmen' act out their wills. John Henry's tactics have remained as brutal as they were before.

As society tries to turn against minorities, John Henry rises to soak his hammers in blood.

As an NPC, the players should be kept in the dark as to John Henry's motives until well into the adventure. Once they realize this guy specializes in hunting racists and Nazis... well, most players will likely just let him have his revenge.

[childrenofhypnos]

Chapter 14: Grimm

They sprinted for the window, praying it was a gateway.

It wasn't.

Emery knew it before they jumped through, when she got close enough to notice that the pressure of the Dream around them didn't let up, when she felt the Dream clawing at her mind for her memories again. She thought of Edgar and Grandpa Al, of sweaters and tea, of cannons and claymores. Even if it wasn't the Sandman's gateway, it was his subconscious, and she needed to be aware enough to find something helpful inside of it.

She hadn't realized how much she'd miss the poppy fields until she and Wes landed on a cobblestone road in the middle of a dense forest. Night slammed down around them. The forest was hung with fog and chirped with the sounds of hidden insects. A wooden fence lined one side of the road, the way marked by yellow lanterns hanging on spindly rods. Through the trees were the lights of a village, and past the village, the turrets of a vicious-looking stone castle perched atop a stone rise in the distance, its silhouette edged in moonlight. A thin layer of green clouds skittered across the sky, avoiding the moon.

"Wow. This is…" Emery looked behind them, where the road tapered off into a smear of nothingness, the edge of the dream they couldn't cross.

"It looks like a fairytale," Wes said.

"I'm not feeling very Disney right now."

"Less Disney, more Grimm."

"What do you think this guy dreams about?"

Wes sighed through his nose and hefted his hammer onto his shoulder, looking weary but determined. "We're going to find out."

~

It occurred to Emery during the walk to the little village through the trees that she could probably start shooting and do some serious psychological damage to the Sandman by ripping his dreams to shreds. She didn't think the appearance of his dream-window meant he was asleep, necessarily--she was pretty sure the dream-windows were there all the time, regardless of whether their dreamers were currently dreaming--but she did feel as if he was still nearby. She wouldn't have been surprised if he really had been following them the entire time they'd been in the Dream. Watching a couple of rookie dreamhunters stumble through window after window was probably hilarious for him.

Small cottages made up the village. Warm yellow light burned in every window and warmth leaked from every chimney. Muddy boots stood by solid front doors. Emery peeked inside a few as they passed and saw families bundled up by fireplaces, parents putting small children to bed. They wore simple clothing: tunics and dresses and thick socks. Emery wondered vaguely what Grandpa Al and Edgar were doing. Probably looking for her. Hopefully looking for her.

She stopped before one cottage not far from the town square and tried the door.

"What are you doing?" Wes hissed.

She rattled the door handle. The latch didn't budge, and the people sitting before the fireplace inside didn't look up. She rattled it again, then banged on the door. They didn't so much as sneeze.

"We can't interact with them," she said. "They're just here for show."

"Then let's keep moving. Something's got to happen."

The town square was hemmed in by several larger buildings, each identified by rough wooden signs in an alphabet they couldn't read, some muddled dream-language that would probably only make sense to the Sandman himself. The lanterns here hung from high poles staked in the ground around a squat stone well at the center of the square. Boards covered the top of the well. A man stood in front of it, his back to them, a hand resting on the well’s lip. In his other he held a rusted scythe, and he leaned on it like a walking stick.

“Hello?” Emery moved slowly toward him, one hand on a revolver. She’d been through enough nightmares where someone turned around and had no face, or had tentacles or crab claws protruding where their eyes should be, or mouths filled with dead rats. And after the villagers in the cottages, she didn’t expect this man to hear her.

He did. He turned, and watched them approach with a wary expression on his fully-formed face. The weight of the blade turned the scythe in his hand. They hadn’t seen any fields on the way to the village, but he must have been a farmer. His clothes were also in finer shape than the other villagers’, and his hair was a crisp, clean blond, combed in a precise swoop from a neat part on the right side of his head. A razor-thin scar cut down his face, over his right eye.

“Who are you?” he asked. Emery started. He had a distinct, contained Southern drawl. A Texan in a German fairytale. Emery had seen some strange things in the Dream, but that took the prize. “Have you come to speak to the scientist? He isn’t seeing anyone now. It’s a bad time.”

That it was the middle of the night and that they were wearing armor that didn’t fit their surroundings didn’t seem to bother the man at all. Emery began to ask who the scientist was when Wes stepped up beside her. “Why isn’t he seeing anyone?”

The man with the scythe paused, looking between them, sizing them up. Then he said, “My name is Daniel. I take travelers to the path in the woods that leads to the scientist’s lab.” He motioned toward the castle spearing over the trees. “The way has always been dangerous because of the Witch of the Wood. We thought it would be safer after the scientist captured her, but since then, none of the travelers I’ve led to the path have returned, and we haven’t heard from the scientist.”

Wes glanced at Emery. Emery stared back at him—had they really just been dropped in a fairytale?—until Wes raised his eyebrows.

She turned back to Daniel. “That’s exactly why we’re here. We were sent to investigate what became of the scientist. We’re well equipped to handle whatever might be waiting in that castle.” She tapped her Peacemakers. Wes had put his hammer away, but he looked intimidating enough without it.

Daniel looked them up and down once again. Emery couldn’t tell if he was supremely unimpressed with them, or if his face just always looked like that. “Aren’t you a little young, Ponytail?”

Emery’s eyebrows shot up into her hair. Now he was mocking them? And when he himself couldn’t have been much older than them.

She smiled to hold in her anger. “We’re quite capable, I assure you. You can lead us to the path or we can find it ourselves; either way, we’re going up to that castle.”

“Fine,” Daniel said, shrugging. “But if something gets you out there, no one will come to save you.”

Joke’s on you, cowboy, Emery wanted to say. We’ve already got no one coming to save us.

“We’ll take our chances,” she said instead.

~

The path through the forest sat behind a blacksmith’s shop. The trees opened up there similar to the Sandman’s gateway and window, two huge oaks framing darkness. Moonlight founds chinks in the armor of the thick canopy overhead and dappled the pathway. Fog crept through the underbrush.

Daniel had brought a lantern with him; it cast shadows over his tanned, angular face. He handed it to Emery.

“Let me give you some advice,” he said. “Don’t leave the path. Look for the knight when you reach the castle. She used to guard the front gate, but I don’t know if she’s still there. If she is, avoid her. She’s a real piece of work.”

“Don’t leave the path, avoid the knight. Got it.” What was the proper etiquette for leaving a helpful person in a fairytale? Emery saluted. Wes cleared his throat.

Daniel shifted his scythe into both hands and backed away. The lantern light left his face, shadowing his eyes. He became two bright curves in the moonlight: the blonde swoop of his hair and the iron edge of the scythe blade. Then he was gone, vanished into the fog rolling across the cobblestones.

Emery and Wes turned back toward the forest. The path was dark.

“Remind you of anything?” Emery asked.

Wes looked grim. “If the Wilmark Fox shows up, I’m going to bash its head in.”

They started walking. This path through the woods was worse than the trails in Wilmark Park. The fog, the density of the trees, and the pressure of the Dream crowded in on all sides, like watching eyes. Past the pressure, Emery was sure there actually was something out there in the woods watching them, the same way she was sure of anything else in another person’s nightmare: the person himself knew it. The Sandman had had this dream multiple times, perhaps not recently, but throughout his life.

She shivered. “We’re walking through his subconscious right now.”

“We’ve been through twenty others. It’s no different.”

“But this is a dreamhunter. It’s so crisp. Everything’s so defined.”

It felt like a real forest, not a dream forest. They probably couldn’t step off the path, but it felt like they could. There was no narrowing of Emery’s vision, no slowing of her legs or scattering of her thoughts.

“He won’t sleep much, since he’s a dreamhunter. This is probably one of the few nightmares he’s ever had that was powerful enough to surface.”

Emery had never had a nightmare strong enough to come into the waking world. Most dreamhunters didn’t; they certainly had the capability, often more than non-dreamhunters, but they didn’t sleep enough to allow the nightmares to become corporeal.

This could have been the waking world, it was so realistic.

Besides the Texan, of course.

The trees ended before they came upon the castle walls. A stretch of moat separated the woods from the stone wall, like a huge sword had come down and cleaved the ground in two. A long stone bridge spanned the gap to a high portcullis, open now onto an empty courtyard. Emery and Wes started across the bridge, side-by-side, Emery holding the lantern up.

The knight appeared the same way Daniel had disappeared, in a roll of fog across the ground, sliding into existence where she had not previously existed at all. Emery wouldn’t have known it was a woman inside the armor if Daniel hadn’t said so; the knight was as old school as everything else around here, greaves and helmet and pauldrons, the whole nine yards. The armor was black, and she stood with her legs braced apart and her hands balanced on the pommel of a massive battle axe. The sharp center tip was planted in the groove between two stones.

“I suppose we should have figured there was no way to avoid her, huh?” Emery said, taking out her revolvers. Wes hefted his hammer in both hands. Emery raised her voice. “We’re here to see the scientist. We heard something weird was going on.”

Emery wasn’t sure they used the word “weird” in fairytales.

The knight didn’t seem to care. She could’ve been a statue if not for a single flex of the fingers of her right hand. The armor made her taller and broader than Wes.

“I don’t know about you,” Emery said to Wes, “but I don’t have the energy to fight this lady right now.”

At least the armor would hide a neat bullet hole in the flesh. She raised her Peacemaker and fired.

The bullet ricocheted off the knight’s heavy breastplate and tore through a chunk of the stone wall.

“Um.” Emery looked at her Peacemaker. “It’s not supposed to do that.”

The knight’s shoulders shook.

“I think she’s laughing at you,” Wes said. “That’s…nice of her.”

“Nice of her?”

“You just tried to kill her. She could be trying to kill you back.”

“Are you going to let us in or not?” Emery snapped at the knight.

With a visible sigh—a slump of the shoulders, a slight lowering of the head—the knight took her battle axe in one hand and started across the bridge. Emery felt the vibration of her steps through the stone, they were so heavy and rattled so loud.

Wes stepped forward. “I can hold her off. You try to get past her.”

“How did it not penetrate?”

“The Sandman has got some strong dreams. Just go. We’ll flank her.”

The knight’s axe slid into place in her hands before she swung it, smooth and automatic, like a machine. It came in a long graceful arc from her heel up to her shoulder, lifting Wes’s hair from his forehead as he jerked backward to avoid it. When it came back down, he raised his hammer and caught her blade on the hammer shaft.

“Go!” he grunted.

Emery dropped the lantern—it tipped and shattered—leaped past the knight’s legs, rolled, and sprang to her feet. Metal squealed on metal. Emery sprinted to the portcullis and turned. Wes was swinging now, driving the knight back a step only to leave himself open long enough for her to surge forward and tackle him against the short wall along the edge of the bridge. Wes locked his hammer with her axe again, but the knight was bending him back, farther and farther, until his shoulders almost touched the top of the wall.

Emery raised a gun to shoot, but thought better of it; if it ricocheted again, Wes was too close. She holstered the gun, fuming, and resorted to the old standby: she dashed back across the bridge and jumped onto the knight’s back, wrapping her arms beneath the lip of the helmet visor and yanking backward. Her momentum pulled the knight away from Wes, giving him the chance to drive the hammer head into the knight’s breastplate. Emery felt the deep thud of the impact. The knight staggered backward, but didn’t fall.

“Stupid—sturdy—scrap—metal!” Emery dug her fingers beneath the lip of the knight’s helmet. They needed a weak point to hit, a soft spot. The knight dropped her axe to grab Emery’s ankles and pry her legs away, but Wes swung for the knight’s elbows and she let go to avoid being hit. The knight stumbled, Emery pulled, and the helmet came off.

A fall of brilliant orange hair lit up in the moonlight.

Wes tried to stop mid-swing and lost his grip. His hammer flew from his hands and crashed into the low stone wall. He gaped.

“Marcia?”

The knight grabbed Emery’s legs and dislodged her. Emery hit the ground with a huff. The knight grabbed her axe up again, then turned, and Emery looked up into the face of Marcia Montgomery.

Her riot of hair fell past her shoulders instead of stopping at her chin, and she looked younger than she should, but it was definitely her.

“Who are you?” Marcia said, glaring between the two of them. “How do you know my name?”

“You’re our—” Emery started, until Wes began furiously shaking his head behind Marcia’s back. “The villagers told us. The one with the scythe. Daniel. He said you were a real piece of work.”

It was enough to turn Marcia into a human volcano.

“Scum-sucking slick-haired coward! Of course he told you! He wants me out of the way, but he won’t even come into the woods himself, oh no. He’ll send others in for him! If he wants to fight me, he should come and do it!”

“Why does he want you out of the way?”

“To get to the castle! They all want to get to the castle!”

Marcia paused, huffing, then scooped up her helmet from the ground and shoved her way past Wes.

“You want to go in, go in. I was here to save you, not to defend him.” She motioned at the castle with her helmet. “If you’re still alive when I get back, I might pull you out. Go inside at your own risk.”

Then she shoved her helmet on and vanished between the trees, taking with her the sudden warmth of familiarity. The loss of it made Emery feel heavier, and it took an extra effort to get back to her feet.

“So, Marcia is in the Sandman’s dream,” Emery said. “She was acting weird about him before. They definitely know each other.”

“They must be close, if she’s such a prominent figure here.”

“Does that help us at all? Knowing that? Maybe we could use her as a defense if he tries to attack us. Like, you know—he’s about to dose us with sleeping sand, and we say, ‘Wait! We know Marcia!’”

Wes looked unconvinced.

“It was just an idea,” Emery said defensively. “Let’s go inside before she comes back.”

   (Next time on The Children of Hypnos --> IT'S ALIIIIIIIIIVE)

[saralaurensmagalona]

The Embassy A Thorki fanfiction by Magalona

Summary:

After centuries of conflict, Asgard and Jotünheim are about to make an alliance during a royal delegation. At first, Crown Heir Thor is set against it and then he meets the third royal Jotünn prince...

Part One

Thor tried to stifle a yawn. For the umpteenth time.

It was getting harder and harder to do so without his mother, All-Mother Queen Frigga, noticing it. He was up for a good verbal hiding once this boring reception of legacies is over. He couldn't help it if it was so tedious and pointless. Being the Crown Prince was a thrill. Everyone did everything you wanted of them. You were top of the top, the best, the elite. Everyone adored you and wanted to please you... He was the Mighty Thor, bearer of the hammer Mjölnir, heir to the Asgardian throne, soon-to-be All-father. What more could he wish for ? One last thing actually. For all of it not to come with such a heavy price...

Responsibilities, duties, attending to meetings, ceremonies and such... Fastidious, tiresome chores he didn't know if he was really useful at, that prevented him from roaming around with his childhood friends, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif. Unfortunately, it couldn't be avoided and Thor was on a tight rope right now. He had been told by Odin Borson All-Father that he was not yet ready to take his place, that he had to grow up and act more like a man and a future king if that was what he really wanted. Part of Thor was vexed for he felt he was treated like a child. Another deep, secret part was relieved. He was having too much fun. He couldn't bear the idea of limiting himself on his duties alone. He was being loved and loved the whole world. Moreover, he knew that becoming All-Father would also entail to find a suitable consort, to be the faithful husband and to breed a little bunch of princes and princesses to ensure the royal lineage.

Boring, boring, boring.

He liked kids but they were noisy. He liked women but he wasn't sure he would be satisfied with only one for the rest of his life. No one needed to know that he actually liked being with a man from time to time... This could still cause a little scandal in Asgard, despite the tolerant policy. Of course, being married would put a stop to this whole sexual freedom. Something that he was not ready to give up. Of course, he had been witness to his parents' great love story. The union of Queen Frigga and King Odin was legendary. But there was only one Queen Frigga and Thor needed someone at least similar to her to make him change his way of life... And such a woman to appear was near to impossible...

After the envoys from Vanaheim, Queen Frigga's homeland, an expected (but unwanted) group of other ambassadors was about to be introduced by the herald. Thor could feel the tension in the whole crowd and his father straightening his back to make himself younger, stronger, taller... Or to brace himself against bad memories. Who knew about what was going on in the All-father's head right before the Frost Giants arrived, and, for the first time in Asgard, supposedly in peace ?

For this was the most important legacy of all, the Jotünn envoys. After centuries of bloody war, a hope for an honorable treaty and a definite closure on a burning hatred on both sides. Needless to say, it was going to be a highly perilous exercise with an imprecise result. Both countries could explode again at the slight show of the least appearance of disrespect... Even Thor, in his carelessness, knew perfectly well what was at stake. He dreamed of war exploits. He dreamed of seeing his Mjölnir once again dripping blue frost giant blood. But it could not be. He was not that blind to the greater good. The Asgardian were tired of paying the blood price. King Odin was too old for such hassle. As much as Thor could understand the first matter, and even the second, it wasn't enough to satisfy his thirst... His thirst for glory, for victory, for revenge... He wouldn't do anything to ruin this audience but, as he caressed the handle of his hammer, at the slightest mistake those brutes would make... Well, Norns help them but nothing would protect them from the Thunderer.

****

Thor hoped their entrance wouldn't be too much of a hassle. King Farbauti's three sons were to be the main ambassadors. It was a proof of goodwill, sending all his heirs at once. A challenge but King Farbauti and his consort Laufey were known as risk takers. Thor already knew, confronted (and defeated) the eldest. Helblindi. Tall, scary, covered in scars that weren't from religious rituals and a breath that literally froze everything around. In battle, Thor used to taunt him about his "bad breath." He hated that brute even if he had some respect for the warrior he was in action. Býleistr, the second one, smaller but wirier with blood-red eyes that pierced you to the core, had a reputation for being sharper than his elder brother and an accomplished tactician. He was supposed to do all the speech during the diplomatic exchanges as Helblindi was not known for being subtle. Thor never actually met him on the battleground for he was the one behind all the military moves which made him more dangerous. Helblindi was the muscle, Býleistr, the brain. They were not to be underestimated because they made quite an unpredictable pair. Thor feared none of them. All in all, Jötunns were the same. Ugly, stupid animals that didn't deserve even to exist. If it was up to him he would burn them all, destroy their cold and sinister city and salt the frozen ground afterward. No mercy, no trace of this despicable race left... Thor realized his fists were clenched so tight he had scratched himself. He had to calm down or there will be huge troubles. There was nothing to be nervous about. Really. He was at home, in charge. THEY were the ones to put themselves at risk in a foreign, hostile land. They didn't seem so all and mighty now that they were not in their beloved icy moors, with theirs norns-be-damned ice hounds to chase innocent Asgardian civilians with...

There was still an unknown factor in all of this. And Thor had a huge dislike of unknown factors. It was well known that Laufey gave Farbauti three sons. Yet, only two were widely infamous in the Nine Realms. When speaking of the Jötunn princes, one always had Býleistr and Heblindi in mind. They were more than enough, surely. Thor never minded the third one until now, assuming it was only a child, not yet ready to follow his brothers in war. It was said that Laufey and Farbauti's third was a late-in-life, unplanned baby. And that baby was to make its first public appearance next to his brothers. It might be a good thing. Or not. It might something totally unexpected. Something the Frost Giant King had kept under his sleeve to provoke chaos. Unknown was bad. Partial data was not to be taken lightly... And Thor had been aware of it since the moment he realized no one even knew the third prince's name.

Keeping all of this in mind, Thor guessed this was going to be complicated. Indeed, he intended to remain in control and astute. To be careful but also to be ready. Just in case. Mjölnir was waiting…

****

Stumping feet were heard in the great hall. A heavy and stressful rhythm. The whole assembly was holding back their breath. The silence, only interrupted by the regular beating of the floor was totally unnatural and creepy. When the herald announced the guests, many jumped as if a bomb had been dropped in the middle of the hall. Even Thor felt the hair on his arm stand.

“Their Royal Highness, Prince Helblindi, Prince Býleistr and Prince Loki Farbautison of Jötunnheim !”

As the eldest and crown heir, Helblindi came first. It was a change to see him in regular, ceremonial clothes on him and not bloody pieces of bashed armor. Yet, he had an unpleasant angry face that was barely under control. Thor knew he had quite a temper. This was going to be a rocky interview... Býleistr came second and was obviously keeping a close eye on his difficult eldest, following his steps, maintaining him under control. Thor wouldn't want to be in his shoes. He was stuck in-between, being the one in charge in the shadow of the one meant to be the real power. He looked confident but on his guards. Thor guessed he really wanted this treaty settled down and smoothly done... They went their way up the hall, all regalia and dignity. It was almost hard to believe that Thor had a clear memory of Helblindi, yelling in rage and battle lust, surrounded by Einherjar corpses and covered in blood... Not a good memory. Not at all.

As Thor wondered if he really had to cross eyes with the one whose skull he had almost broken with his hammer once, he perceived a tiny figure amongst the dreadful giants. At first, he thought it was a child, then a woman but it had larger shoulders. Then he noticed the figure had blue skin like a Frost Giant but dark, shiny hair like a normal Asgardian (although Asgardian were mostly blond or ginger…). That was a male Frost... Giant ? Except that he was Aesir-sized and almost as tall as Thor. Did Jötunn males mate with normal women ? Gross... The very idea made Thor want to vomit. Yet the creature was exquisite. The most beautiful Thor had ever seen... Muscled but lithe, graceful with a jumpy walk, eyes cast down, curiously. So Thor couldn't see if they were red or anything. The rest of the face, however, was extraordinary. Instead of a bark-like skin, full of scratches and crevices, it was a perfectly smooth complexion with refined features, a perfect nose and a mouth as thin as a wound with discreet round lips.

As Thor surprised himself wondering how those lips would taste, he noticed the creature wore the same furs and the same red cape and jewels as the two gigantic princes.

So, that was why they were hiding him. His own parents. Thor felt a twinge of compassion for this lonely beauty. For though he was as royally dressed as the others, he was clearly staying behind, humbled, and almost ignored by the rest of the retinue. As if he was lesser than the two other monsters, though of the same rank and lineage… Because of his unusual size. And maybe his dark, silky mane... Again, Thor wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked. A runt prince. Farbauti and Laufey must have been sick with shame seeing the poor tot. They must have tried to keep his existence a secret until it was not longer possible. As they needed to keep up a good image in front of the All-Father, they send all their children in a semblance of unity and good will. What a farce. Their whole attitude told everything.

Or maybe Thor was wrong, maybe they actually tried to protect him until he was grown and able to care for himself... Maybe. Why not ? Yet, as they stepped forward to pay their respects to Odin All-Father (and wishing they could stab him to death in the same time, Thor was sure of it), the two older brothers clearly acted as if the third was not even there. The boy didn't even try to be bold. He remained eyes down while the respective parties gave the usual greeting speech. A speech Thor didn't even hear for all he could see and pay attention to was how the blue wonder modestly held his hands, avoiding anyone's gaze. He must have felt Thor's actually, for he eventually raised his head and met Thor's eyes. Red, shiny like two bloody suns, of course. Or more like the amazing rubies Odin had taken from the dark elves and offered his wife for their last anniversary. Except that suns or stones never show any emotion and Thor guessed that those red orbs had multiple contradictory feelings storming a rage inside. Loki held Thor's gaze for a minute and then quickly turned around. His face harbored a deeper shade of blue. This was going to be delightful. Thor couldn't wait.

****

During supper, the royal family of Asgard and Jötunheim were to sit at the same table. Thor was more than happy to see that he had been placed at Loki's left. Frigga was seated at his right. Odin came next, at the master seat and then Helblindi and Býleistr. Protocol was respected and everyone was giving his due. Thor had never been happier to be at the end of the table. He could have Loki to himself without being bothered. And his mother would be gracious and polite but wouldn't prevent her son to be the gallant host. Even if he had an hidden agenda, everything to make the Frost Giants feel valued would be handy.

Thor loved the thrill of a good hunt and flirting to him was like chasing the most elusive deer. Love, war, hunt... All the same thing but with different goals and different preys. The more difficult, the best. Contrary to what all would think, Thor didn't like the easy way, things handed on a silver platter for him to plunder. He liked the challenge. And his current target actually looked like one. Queen Frigga was trying to make the runt prince comfortable while Odin was chattering with the others. Loki was bowing his head to her and shyly answering her questions. Yes, he found Asgard beautiful. Yes, he missed Jotünheim and his parents a bit but he was still excited to be here. No, it wasn't like he had imagined it... His voice was soft and low. It gave Thor goosebumps. He couldn't help but imagine lewd things this voice could purr to his ear. There was so many questions he also wanted to ask Loki but there was no time for it right now. He most of all wanted to know if Loki was free or engaged. If someone was waiting for him at home... But Frigga was monopolizing Loki and the latter seemed relieved for it and turned only his eyes to her. Thor was irritated and jealous and wanted his mother to stop. But you don't give Frigga All-Mother orders. No, sir. Not if you valued your life.

Thor was determined to make a move. He was not a patient man. That and his overbearing self-confidence were his biggest default. He discreetly examined Loki. Indeed, at a closer look, he was even more attractive. But he looked tense, his hands clenched into fists that he hid under the table. From the movement of his lips and eyes, Thor could guess he was extremely nervous. Well, Thor had to admit he had every reason to be. Far away from home, amongst former enemies, seated between a woman Laufey had once threatened to kill and drag her corpse by the hair around the Jotünn capital (for she had destroyed a whole battalion of Jotünn all by herself), and a man that was legendary for having crushed countless of Frost Giants' heads... Loki handled it rather smoothly, even if he was as tense as the cords on a harp. Yet, he didn't seem to even acknowledge Thor's presence. It annoyed the Thunderer. He didn't like being ignored by someone he valued.

“I guess you haven't traveled much, Prince Loki ?” Loki jumped and then composed himself seeing that Thor was talking to him. All white teeth, blue eyes and smiles. “No... My Lord... I haven't.” There was an hesitation in Loki's voice, as if he didn't know how to address Thor. Or maybe he was reluctant to talk to the one that destroyed so much of his own country. Thor surprised himself by wishing he wasn't that good on the battleground. It was going to be a hindrance in his relationship with Loki. “Because...” Thor resumed giving his most dashing smile. “If you had, Prince Loki's beauty and reputation would have reached the gates of Asgard in no time and I would have rushed to Jotünheim just for the honor of seeing you !” Loki pinched his lips, turned bluer, and looked the other way. Clearly embarrassed. “Your Highness is very kind...” He mumbled. So, he was playing the shrinking violet. Fine by Thor. Or was he ?

The rest of the evening, Thor followed Loki around, monopolizing his attention and doing most of the talking. Queen Frigga did nothing to prevent that, neither did Odin nor the brothers. Actually, Thor being attentive to the youngest prince was a sign of respect to their former foes. It was for the best. Except that Loki wasn't very cooperative. Answering “Yes, my Lord. No, your Highness...” to Thor's question. Remaining silent when Thor was going into one of his famous soliloquy about Asgard, the life on Asgard, the palace and such trivia. But he couldn't break the ice between him and Loki. The Jotünn prince seemed locked like Frigga's jewelery box. As discreet and silent as possible. Contrary to his brothers who were in a chatty mood after a cup of wine or two. Wine, Thor thought. That might loosen things up.

During the evening dance and reception, Thor managed to make Loki sit in another part of the room and asked the servants to fetch in his private collection. Loki sat down and kept fidgeting, casting worried glances towards his brothers were laughing, making a fuss, drinking and totally forgetting about their youngest sibling. “Here, Prince Loki, do you have such good summer wine in Jotünheim ?” Loki reluctantly took the golden cup Thor was giving him. “No... My Lord... But we have what we call the “Ice-wine.” It is made of special frozen berries... It is sugary but very strong if you are not careful...” Wow, the longest phrase the prince had uttered in the whole evening. Better make the most of it. “Speaking of ice, I noticed you are not affected by our climate like your brothers are. They are all sweaty already and you are still as fresh as a morning flower... and quite as beautiful.” Loki made an embarrassed, tiny chuckle. Thor was handing him a huge perch but he was not taking it. “I actually am able to control my body temperature, my Lord...” They were making small talk but nothing concrete. It didn't matter to Thor. He kept refilling Loki's cup and Loki seemed not to mind or not realizing it. He appeared to loosen up a little bit with each cup. Thor wasn't proud of such a low technique but Loki was by far the most difficult conquest he had to make... Which was not really surprising, considering, but still a little weird... “How so ?” Thor laughed while slowly getting closer on the couch. “I have... a secret, your Highness.” Loki chuckled again, a little louder. “Tell me...” Thor smiled. Then Loki seemed to wake up and remember who he was talking to. “I... I can't...” He uttered, looking a little scared. “Come on !” Thor encouraged the runt prince, now his leg almost touching his thigh. “Let me tell you a very embarrassing secret and you'll tell me yours !” “All right...” Loki murmured with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “The day of my first public appearance, when I was very young...” Thor lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. “I was so scared I peed in my pants ! No one noticed it, not even my own mother ! I had to walk all day with wet underpants ! My biggest humiliation !” Loki made a tiny laugh that looked sincere this time. “And no one know but you, now. So it shows you I completely trust you. Now...” Thor lingered so close he could have touched Loki's face with his nose. “Tell me yours...” Loki breathed faster. His eyes went to one side to another, as if looking for an exit. It only enticed Thor even more. He never really had to fight for any of his paramours. Loki must have exhausted all of his ways out for he forcibly sighed and answered. “I practice magic.” “You're a sorcerer ?” Thor almost shrieked. Sorcerers were not good news. They were tricky, unreliable and whimsical. They never fought directly face-to-face with the enemy but could ruin a good, honorable battle from afar. “An apprentice, my Lord...” Loki must have noticed Thor's reluctance. “Not yet a sorcerer. But you seemed to dislike us. Yet, even the All-Father uses us as backups and many other things.” And Thor had vowed himself never to use such tricksters again. Even if his life depended on it. Magic was heresy to him. A low and cowardly way to fight and live. Curiously, knowing this didn't change his views on Loki. On contrary, hearing that, Thor was adamant that the beautiful runt prince will end up in the Thunderer's bed tonight. For some reason, carnally possessing a future sorcerer gave him a certain thrill... “No, Little One.” Thor's smile was the one of a wolf. “But it makes me wonder what kind of things you could do... What kind of marvels you could create.” Loki looked both pleased and annoyed. Thor realized he was doing all of this by ear, that he was not accustomed to flirting. Thor had a hope. Maybe no one was expecting him back in Jotünheim. Maybe Thor had a chance... He didn't know if he was the recent revelation or the wine but Loki was making him crazy with his dallying and his shyness. He was the least straightforward creature he had met. The most secretive. It had an unknown flavor to the Thunderer... Completely engrossed with his wooing hunt, Thor had not given any thought about the political significance of a sorcerer in Jotünheim. With all his fighting spirit, he had yet to realize that his country's mortal enemies had magic on their side in the person of his love interest...

The ice had finally broken. They were drinking and chatting. Thor managed to make Loki laugh that discreet, restrained laugh several times. It was as if the Jotünn prince was constantly holding back. He was obviously watching his own moves and words and only the alcohol had managed to lower down his guard. It was an uncommon behavior to Thor, used to easiness and frankness... But now, Loki seemed at ease. Even if he was still holding back, the light in his eyes displayed that he was enjoying himself, finally. Thor wanted now to take the next step. As he was still pouring the wine and still talking joyfully, his arm was now around Loki's shoulder who didn't seem to mind a bit. They were as close as they could get. The party was at its height and they managed to stifle their giggling at the sight of Helblindi trying to dance with the ambassador from Álfheim, Princess Wÿnmo. Quite a sight actually. You would have thought the former enemies were now goofing around as members of the same family. Thor took advantage of the funny scene to give Loki's nape a light caress. That made Loki stop in his tracks and gave Thor a look he couldn't interpret. Something between surprise, shyness and anger. “You don't like being touched, Little One ?” Thor murmured. Loki shrugged. “I don't mind... My Lord...” He lowly said. Back to square one with the shyness and the meekness. Thor was seriously asking himself if Loki was not playing some sort of game. “You are not used to touching, aren't you, Little One ?” “N-no, my Lord.” Thor waved his hand in annoyance. “Enough with the civilities. You can call me Thor. After all, I told you the most humiliating thing in my whole life.” Loki smiled but it was a contrite smile. “All right, my... Thor.” He blushed, meaning that his skin went in a darker shade of blue. It made him look amazing. Thor came closer. Loki stiffened but didn't move. Thor noticed that he kept throwing little glances at something on the left side. Thor was irritated to see that Loki was not looking at him in the eyes again. He gently took Loki's chin in his hands and made him raise his eyes. They also turned dark red. Maybe Loki was drunker than it seemed. “Then, tell me, Little One. A little secret between you and me. Are you untouched ?” Loki uttered a choked gasp and looked at Thor as if he had turned into a dragon. “Why is your highness...” “Thor.” Loki heavily breathed. “Why are you interested in it, Thor ?” “Well ? Are you ?” Thor insisted, his hand on Loki's back again. Loki bit his mouth. Clearly embarrassed. Thor thought that the wine might have gotten too much to his head. In normal time, he wouldn't be this rude. But Loki was playing hard to get and it got on Thor's nerves. “There is no one in Jotünheim I can mate with...” Loki sadly said. Thor felt a little shameful. He had noticed that it seemed to affect Loki. It also seemed he wanted to add something but prevented himself from saying it. “Does it make you sad ? Bitter ?” Thor gently asked, a bit ashamed at his intrusiveness. “No... It's just... I don't know.” Loki shrugged, clearly at a loss for words. Thor decided that now was the time for his move. He gently caressed Loki's face. “We could fix that... Together.” Thor felt Loki's skin tremble under his fingers. “W-what do you mean ?” Thor smiled, a soft, seductive smile. “Be my lover tonight.”

Loki was mute, his skin now turned a light gray-blue. The Jotünn way of getting pale, probably. “My Lord ! How...” He stopped. Loki was not a great talker but Thor was really a pushover. A dangerous combination. “Be my lover, Little One...” Thor used the velvet in his voice. Some of his former paramours had told him it was like he wrapped them in silk with it... “Join me tonight in my chambers. I'll wait the whole night if necessary. The choice is up to you.” He kissed Loki's hand, without waiting for his answer. He hoped he had made enough effect on the Jotünn to show him he was serious. Loki might not come to his room right away, maybe not even tonight. But the embassy was meant to go on for several months. So, Thor had time on his side. He left Loki's side, satisfied with the way he had directed everything. Going to the exit, getting ready for this night, just in case, he saw his mother Frigga, tired and out of breath from dancing. “You look flushed, mother.” Thor smiled. “Can you believe I could dance all night with your father or anyone, without getting any sweating when I was your age ?” She laughed. “I saw you were with Prince Loki. It was a good thing, my son, to attend all of Laufey's children.” Coming from Frigga it could be either a compliment about Thor's new-found diplomatic skills or a reprimand for he hadn't talked that much to the two other princes. Though, Thor had found it clever to remain distant but respectful to the other two. He still had a huge history with them... And a fatal mistake could easily be made... “Why, mother. I am simply taking care of our guests.” In more ways than one, he thought deep inside.

****

Thor was laying on his bed. He forbid himself from paying attention to his beating heart. He was counting the minutes, a thing that he never cared at all before. Even when in love and waiting for his then-lover. Time was not a thing you paid much mind to when being the crown prince of Asgard. Curiously, while waiting for the third Jotünn prince, it was.

Thor couldn't help but be excited, wondering if Loki would dare... He had seemed a bit scared, unsure of himself. Deep inside, Thor felt as if the prince had not appreciated any of Thor's attentions, as if he was forcing himself a bit to please the heir of Asgard. But Thor discarded the troublesome thought. Everyone loved the Mighty Thor, the Thunderer... Who wouldn't be honored to share his bed ? To experience his lovemaking ? Had not each and every one of his former partners acknowledged that he was an excellent lover ? That they were all madly in love with him ? So, why was he feeling like he was missing something concerning the runt prince ?

Thor jumped out of bed the minute he heard the knocking. He told himself not to get his hopes too high. But the one who had knocked was indeed Loki. In a night gown and trousers, without any jewel or velvet and his skin turning almost light gray, Loki looked almost childish, much younger than his real age. Frail, trembling, but utterly desirable. Without a word, Thor grabbed him and closed the door. He endeavored to kiss hard and strong, getting a little huff of surprise from his willing prey. “You are here, Little One.” Thor said, breaking the kiss. He couldn't quite believe it. Loki simply nodded. Thor noticed that he was really stiff. “Calm down, my darling. You are safe with me.” Thor murmured against Loki's neck. He perceived a strong shiver that set Thor on edge. He couldn't help grabbing and groping the firm, soft flesh. It was like a weird dance. Thor caressing and Loki half encouraging, half pushing away... He was squirming like a little fish, both trying to touch Thor and trying to escape. Loki had not uttered a word yet. That was odd. Thor got tired with the dallying and grabbed Loki by the waist. Loki seemed to consent and cling to his shoulders. Thor turned to the bed and they were about to topple on it when Loki transformed himself from a wooden doll to a raging panther, biting, scratching, fighting against a startled Thor and screaming in utter desperation. “NO ! No ! No ! No ! PLEASE !!! Please, don't ! I DON'T WANT TO !!”