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jadelotusflower · 7 days ago

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Stargate rewatch: 2x06 - Thor's Chariot

It's the Cimmerian follow up episode! I really like this one.

Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of SG-1's actions. They destroyed Thor's Hammer, and the Goa'uld have now invaded and conquered Cimmeria. It's unclear exactly how the Goa'uld knew Cimmeria was unprotected when in the earlier episode Teal'c said all Jaffa knew the symbols as a planet they should not go to, but I suppose a Goa'uld like Heru-ur might decide to send scouts to all the previously forbidden worlds, especially if he’s power playing with Apophis.

Of course, this does seem to contradict the later reveal of the Asgard-Goa'uld Protected Planets treaty, but perhaps Cimmeria wasn't actually part of the treaty but Thor's pet project he was keeping safe through use of the Hammer.

Daniel not wearing his glasses again for no discernible reason. Well, he’s wearing them on his head, successfully functioning neither as a vision aid nor a headband.

Sans glasses, he recognises Gairwyn on the MALP footage; it's like they're an affectation at this stage. There will come a point where he does start wearing them all the time and I'll have to watch out for when that is - I wonder if a note came down about it, like when the Airforce told them Amanda Tapping's hair was getting too long.

Teal’c: The destruction of the hammer device to save my life may have caused this. If so, I am responsible. Jack: General, I gave the order. Daniel: And I fired the staff at the machine. Sam: And I…was there. Hee!

Written by Kathryn Powers, who also penned the previous episode Thor’s Hammer. Directed by William Gereghty.

Gairwyn returns, and we learn that the dead body she was cradling in the cold open was her husband, who was also absent from the previous episode having “gone a-viking”. What I do appreciate about this episode pair is that you’d probably expect a tv show tackling a Norse-inspired culture to default to male characters, but instead our access characters were both women.

Kendra is unfortunately not in this episode, her character having been killed offscreen which is a real shame. Gairwyn does mention that Kendra is buried with her family, implying that SG-1’s visit and confronting the hammer again helped her heal so she stopped isolating herself from the community. And then died :(

The timeline is a bit thin though - Gairwyn says Kendra’s the one who told her to fly the Sagan box through the gate so SG-1 would come and help, but she’s already been buried with her family? I suppose it’s plausible that it took some time for Gairwyn and her family to plan and carry out an assault on the gate.

Sam engages in some light graverobbing and we learn she can use Goa’uld technology thanks to Jolinar. But since we can’t have Sam using the healing device every time someone gets a scratch, controlling the tech is difficult for her.

The remaining Cimmerians are understandably not happy with SG-1 for leaving them vulnerable to attack, which you know what, fair. Half of them are dead!

Olaf, not a talking snowman but seemingly the leader of the remaining group, calls SG-1 “the dogs of Midgard” which would be a great name for a heavy metal band.

Daniel takes his glasses off for his closeup for emphasis, suggesting Thor hasn’t abandoned Cimmeria, but is simply far away.

Gairwyn takes Sam and Daniel to the Hall of Thor’s might, while Olaf takes Teal’c and Jack on patrol.

Exposition time! We get out introduction to Heru-ur, son of Ra and Hathor and powerful system lord. We get the first return of the Horus helmet since the film, worn both by Heru-ur and his Jaffa. Underneath the helmet is Douglas A Arthurs, and I am a little more lenient about the casting of white guys in the roles of current Goa'uld that could have credibly changed hosts at any time, although still not great obviously. On the other hand, casting all your villains as actors of colour isn't great either and while you can certainly say that the casting would be so much more inclusive if the show was made today, so much about the show would be different if made today I'm not sure it's worthwhile to unravel that thread.

We can assume that Heru-ur has taken Ra's place as a rival to Apophis, likely absorbing much of Ra's former territories and jostling with Apophis for the rest, hence Cimmeria as his new ship building world.

“Our god is Thor, he taught us to stand as equals.” The difference between a Goa’uld and an Asgard, although a lie is a lie, and a false god is a false god, as will be explored in much a later episode.

"What did he teach you about pain?" Generally I find Heru-ur a lower tier adversary, but this is a good villain line.

Teal’c shoots a pistol! But clearly finds it wanting, as he goes straight back to his staff weapon.

“Things will not calm down, Daniel Jackson, they will in fact calm up.” Iconic Teal’c line. I like to think that by this point Teal’c is familiar enough with Earth parlance that this is deliberate on his part.

Jack: “he means things will escalate of course.”

Daniels glasses are once again atop his head. There's low light in this cave Daniel, how can you possibly see?

Thor’s test part 1: do you have the courage to touch the forbidden stone? (Bravery)

The return of hologram Thor, once again played by Mark Gibbons, I appreciate this continuity of this. However despite Olaf saying earlier that Thor taught them to stand as equals, Gairwyn kneels to ask for his help. But I think that makes sense, showing defiance to an oppressor is different from confronting ones benefactor seeking help. Daniel also removes his hat, which I think it a nice character touch.

Thor’s test part 2: would you risk/sacrifice your life to save your friends? (Selflessness)

Meanwhile, Jack, Teal’c and Olaf run around the forest picking off Jaffa. Whatever, the interesting story here is the puzzles. I’m not being sarcastic, I love it when they have to solve puzzles.

But Daniel: Puzzle Master is initially stumped by the riddle of the runes. Holo!Thor telling him there’s no shame in failure kickstarts his brain to realise the runes are numbers not concepts, Sam identifies the sequence as Pi, and Daniel figures out they have to represent the concept on the geometric shapes. Guess the pictographs were a red herring? Of course we never find out what the pictographs were depicting so maybe there was a clue in them Daniel didn't see.

Honestly, I think the reflection of the key light in Daniel's glasses as shown here is the reason he keeps taking them off.

For reference, other than representing Pi, according to Daniel's translation the rune sequence is Protection/Fate/Movement/Chariot, which could mean that for Thor's protection, the Cimmerians must decide their own fate, move forward/progress, and then be shown the truth i.e. his true self/technology.

I really wish Gairwyn had been included in solving the puzzle, maybe she could have been the one to realise the runes were numbers? Or at least she could have been the one who showed courage in the first test. Then they all would have played a part.

Holo!Thor disappears and we see Thor’s true (Roswell grey-esque) form, voiced by Michael Shanks, (uncredited at this point). The voice will change slightly over the years.

But I love the Thor puppet! It’s genuinely beautiful, especially the eye movement. Like the Goa'uld snake-form, the puppets are so much better than the CG versions they bring in later.

I also love that everyone pronounces Goa’uld differently. Daniel says “goold” out of disrespect, but Thor says “gow-uld” which isn’t quite correct but believable from an ancient race who has fraught dealings with them, and for whom language has changed over time - important to remember that Shanks is playing both roles and choosing the pronunciation that fits the respective character.

Thor’s ship is called the Bilskinir, Old Norse for "lightening-crack" and was a great hall where the mythological Thor lived on Asgard - the "hall of Thor's might" and his chariot/spaceship are conflated for the purposes of the show. The hall of his might was not a weapon as Daniel and Sam expected, but a test to show when the Cimmerians were ready to se Thor in his true form i.e. invite them into his hall.

“We did not anticipate outside interference” Thor reading Earth to filth with absolute politeness.

“Daniel, you look suspiciously empty handed” lol, Jack is not surprised.

Jack sarcastically asking if the real Thor was nice is funny since her will will soon become Thor's favourite human.

Having surrendered to spare the remaining Cimmerians, Daniel observes, "Before they rode into battle the Sioux used to say: This is a good day to die." Jack isn't amused, either by the sentiment or Daniel invoking some (likely) apocryphal/embellished history.

Thor shows up in his big honking spaceship and decimates the fuck out of Heru-ur's forces. With all the beaming that goes on in later seasons, it’s easy to forget how badass Thor showing up and disappearing everyone was on first viewing. "Lightning-crack" indeed.

He got there pretty toot-sweet didn't he? I guess he was in the neighborhood, since when Earth gets Asgard tech later on they don't travel nearly as fast (unless the Asgard started them out on baby's first hyperspace).

But Heru-er escapes, since they need him to get his ass kicked again in a few episodes.

Thor also braided Gairwyn's hair and gave her a new outfit, which was nice of him.

“They are a friend to all, protector of all, except the Goa’uld, with whom they are at war.” Thor stretching the truth a bit here, unless by “war” he meant “fragile terms of non-interference in one another’s territories.”

“I’m to tell you that Thor’s new Hammer will make an exception for the one called Teal’c.” I always thought this episode should have been placed later in the season, at least after Secrets, since in that episode no one raises the possibility of using the new Hammer to free Sha’re. Arguably it would be too dangerous to send a heavily pregnant woman though, but you’d think it would be discussed at least. On the other hand, maybe the new Hammer takes a while to build?

Heru-ur also plays a role in that episode, and we first meet him in this episode so it couldn't have been an order changeup, and was written this way. I just wish it had been addressed since it's only a few episodes from now.

But anyway. This was a good one! Following up on a previously visited planet, consequences of actions, puzzles, good guest star. Overall season 2 is pretty strong.

#jlf watches #stagate sg-1 #2x06 thor's chariot #stargate rewatch #stargate season 2

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lokisgoodgirl · 4 months ago

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Marked : The Rite (VII.)

A Masterlist for The Rite is HERE A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (7) Shaken from Loki's exit, you seek counsel from the wisest person you know. As does Loki. And twin moons aren't the only thing coming together. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Mild angst. Asgardians behaving badly. More smut. (w.c 5.2k)

Loki didn’t know whose hands were touching him, whose breath was on his neck, whose empty congratulations were ringing in his ears.

He was halfway down the aisle before he realised you weren’t with him. Loki turned, trying to stop the tide of bodies sweeping him away.

Did I leave her?!

The moments after the announcement were a blur. He'd meant to take your hand, to pull you up with him...but —

I didn't. I left her.

The riotous blob burst into a small feasting hall near the Rite chamber with long tables laid with glazed hams and towers of pastries. Thor slapped Loki’s back hard enough to leave a mark.

"Is she getting changed? Is she coming?" Loki glanced over his shoulder, drawing the sash tight around his hips. It didn’t make much difference, being that the robe was translucent, but he needed something for his hands to do. “Don’t be absurd, brother.” A tankard was shoved into his hand. “Sif came to the festivities after your Rite—”

“Yes but Sif was a warrior, and a member of the inner circle." Thor’s face scrunched. ‘Your one is…” Loki’s face hardened. “Is what?”

Thor’s laugh made the ale ripple. “Come, Loki, be serious. She’s not one of us. You have what you wanted, your place in Asgard’s Royal line. You can stop playing the cunt-struck lovelorn, now.” Loki stiffened, setting the tankard down purposefully on the table. "She loves me."

"Yes, and?" Thor shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. "She isn’t the first, she won’t be the last. Who cares about her? Enjoy the—”

Loki smacked the tankard from Thor’s grip. It flew across the hall at force, hitting Fandral between the shoulder blades. He spun. “—I care...brother,” Loki hissed, so close to Thor’s face he could smell the pepper-roasted ham he’d been guzzling between idiocies.

“All my life I’ve been surrounded by people like you, thinking I was the one who should linger in shadow; the one who didn’t fit; who didn’t deserve the life he had.” His molars pressed together, growing more incensed with each of Thor’s vacant, casual chews. “But it was the rest of you that needed to change. She sees me for who I am, and she loves me.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Did that witch Lagertha slip her some magic potion to smear on her lady-bits? Brother, you’re acting most unlike yourself.” Loki’s hand flew to Thor’s throat, lifting him off the floor.

The blonde’s face turned red instantly, struggling against his grip. No one tried to intervene, they knew better than that. With a growl, Loki lowered him, but he didn’t release the grip on Thor’s windpipe.

“Perhaps I’ve been concealing the true fury I hold inside me, brother,” Loki hissed in his ear, enjoying the desperate swallow as he struggled for air. “Boys, boys,” Fandral smarmed, edging them apart. “Your brother’s right, Lo—ki,” Fandral said, sliding an arm around his shoulder and grasping against the chiffon clinging to his muscle. “Enjoy yourself, hmm? Forget that pretty nothing. Tonight, perhaps you’ll indulge in something more…on your level.” He winked, curling a loose strand of Loki’s top knot around a fingertip. “I told her not to get attached. It’s not your fault if she did, she was warned.” Realisation hit Loki like a chariot.

“What did you say to her?” he growled, noting the sudden fear in Fandral’s eyes. The man stumbled back, tripping over a pair of ridiculous satin shoes. Before he could hit the floor Loki’s arm shot out, grabbing the cravat bunched at Fandral’s neck and pulling him up. Fandral slammed against Loki’s chest, nails ripping down the fabric of his robe and tearing into chest muscle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorr—” “What…did you say to her?” An arctic silence had fallen over the feasting hall. Pain clawed beneath Loki’s skin, but he ignored it. Blood was already starting to clot between the minuscule weave. “That you were trying to make her fall in love with you, which, wh-which you did—”

“—And?” Loki shook him, making Fandral’s coiffured golden curl wobble loose. “—A-and that you’d discard her,” he choked, eyes darting manically to the ceiling. “Which…you did.”

Loki punched in the face: right on top of the fastenings covering his re-set nose from last night. Fandral whimpered as Loki punched him again, only stopping because of the tidal wave of arms pulling him off. He thrashed, throwing his fists and swiftly receiving one himself. Loki’s face wrenched to the side, the knot atop his head falling and the golden snake clip bouncing to the stone below. “Brother, stop…” Thor shook his fist, knuckles blossoming scarlet. Loki’s stare fell on Fandral, being hoisted between two guards out the room. He pressed his cheek, wincing. “I avoided your nose, at least,” Thor said. “But it will bruise, for certain.” “Fuck you, brother,” Loki spat.

He didn’t indulge the hands that grasped at him, half-drunk, petitioning him to stay at his own celebrations. He could still taste your delicate arousal on his tongue, and hear the unspoken words hanging in the air between the two of you.

I love you, your eyes had said, even before the enchanted robe confirmed it. He wondered if his had, too. What must she think of me?

The guards opened the golden door separating the inner palace from the outer court. Their eyes fell down his body, but they said nothing. Under normal circumstances, Loki could materialise a more modest outfit with a wave of his hand, but his emotions were too high; his magic was too unstable. So, for now, any members of the court milling around would have a scene to tell their grandchildren about: Loki of Asgard, resplendent in his Rite robe, cock hanging free – on the way to salvage the love he thought he’d never find — if she'd still have him. Quick footsteps pattered behind him and Loki whipped around, fire flashing in his eyes. Håkon stood masked in shadow, a low hood covering his face. “What are you doing here?” Loki said, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. Håkon shrugged. “I thought you might need me. When you messed up, you know?” Loki folded his arms, suddenly aware the boy was seeing him practically naked, but Håkon’s eyes were set firmly on his own, even when a pair of leather pants materialised around Loki's lower limbs. “What do you mean when I messed up?” Loki scoffed, feeling his ears burn. “Why—?”

Håkon sighed. “—Do you know where her rooms are?” A swallow worked down Loki’s throat, common sense spreading now that his heart had slowed. “No.” Håkon smirked in a way that Loki felt entirely responsible for. “Exactly. Come on, let me help you for once.” Loki’s heart wrenched a little at the sentiment, quickly diluted by the whisper of ‘idiot,’ as Håkon passed him. And then it was his turn to smirk.

The boy led him through a maze of corridors Loki had never seen before, up three flights of stairs and to the furthest wing of the court. Your door was open, but to his dismay, Loki quickly realised you weren’t there. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, emptied from a dresser.

“Where is she?” Loki growled to no one, and Håkon shrugged lightly. “Depends what you did, master,” he said, glancing out the door and down the corridor. “But she’s gone, alright.”

No one had tried to stop you. And really, that said it all.

You’d made straight for the baths and shrugged off the ceremonial robe, pulling on your old day dress as quickly as possible. You’d run to your chambers with bare feet slapping against stone, slamming the door behind you with wild eyes and wilder thoughts.

I have to get out of here. You couldn’t stay here where you were a figure of ridicule; where everyone knew you loved Loki enough to satisfy some ancient magic and his first thought had been an ale, and the approval he so desperately wanted. A place of honour, yeah right. Anger curdled in your gut. He hadn’t even said thank you. Bastard.

You bit back tears as a bag was stuffed with all the necessities you could think of. It would take a few days to arrange travel somewhere far away from here, maybe back to your family. But until then, you couldn’t sit here waiting for whatever pity knock came at the door. And there was only one place that came to mind. “Oh,” Lagertha said, peeping through the gap in the bronze door of the Weaving Tower. Moonlight smoothed the deep wrinkles of her face, and the bobble of a sleeping cap hung by the sheet of fabric draped down her chest. She peered to either side, groggy eyes blinking back to your face. “Got Loki exhausted and begging for mercy already? You better be here to spill all the details - I’m a little old for girl talk but I’ll do my best.” She smiled as she said it, but it was wary.

When you didn’t reply she added, ‘…What’s he done?” And then, you started to cry.

Lagertha ushered you inside, bringing you to a small door at the back of the ground floor. Through the haze of tears, you couldn’t even appreciate that the door that had appeared from nowhere on the smooth circular wall, opening into a homely set of rooms. She plonked you at a small table and set about making tea while you heaved out the important details: ceremony, amazing, loved him, left.

Lagertha sighed. She drooped into the chair opposite and pushed a steaming cup of something herbal in your direction. You blew a wet snort into the sleeve of your dress. “Blessed Norns, dear. We may not be royals, but we’re not animals.” She fished in a pocket of her nightdress. “Here,” she said, offering a suspiciously crinkled handkerchief. You took it, blew into it, and she sighed again. “I’m sure he meant well, love.” “He left me!” you gasped, high and squeaky. Your eyes itched from tears and Lagertha grimaced. “He didn’t say a word, let himself be dragged off by the people he claims to despise all telling him how fucking great he was…Fandral was right. I’m nothing to him.” You folded your head in your hands, staring at the table. “I never liked that Fandral,” Lagertha said after a pause. Her chair creaked. “Never trust a man with more shoes than sense, that’s what my mother always said.” A small laugh erupted in your throat. And soon afterwards, the stone weighing in your stomach was dust. Temporarily, at least. When the teapot was empty, she showed you to a small bedroom beside her own holding a long single bed, and not much else. A nightdress was folded on it, woven by Lagertha. The threads shimmered in moonlight. “I can’t magic you up a four-poster bed, I’m afraid,” she said with a sad smile. “But I can guarantee you’ve never slept on finer sheets.” You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect…thank you, Lagertha.” And as you curled your knees to your chest, staring at the wall, you tried not to think about Loki’s eyes as he kissed the inside of your knee; of his warm breath in your ear as the syllables of your name lingered on his tongue, and the hope you'd felt. That was the worst of it. You were trying so hard not to think about it, you almost didn’t hear a knock at the front door.

“What do you want?” Lagertha hissed. You stood with an ear pressed tightly to the wood separating the front door of Lagertha’s quarters to the main entrance of the Tower. A low voice rumbled in response. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Lagertha said. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

“…Safe?” the voice mumbled. It sounded sad. Is it…? You pulled the door open.

Loki stood in the entrance, that broad shouldered silhouette unmistakeable. Shards of liquid moonlight dashed across the wild hair spread over his shoulders. He still wore the ceremonial robe, but the intricate folds were tangled and now he was wearing a pair of those — fucking —leather trousers that clung to every insane muscle. And then, breath caught in your throat. A bruise the colour of stormclouds was spreading under Loki’s eye socket, and a deep scratch ran from his heart down to the oblique on his left side.

He gasped your name, lunging forwards – but Lagertha stopped him with a delicate press to his chest. He looked at her, and then at you. “I need to speak to you,” he pleaded. “I can explain, it’s not what you—" You raised a hand. Part of you wanted to run into his arms and tell him to shut up and kiss him into oblivion. But another part, the sensible part, knew that nothing had changed. Not really. Lagertha looked between the two of you.

“Why don’t the two of you have a little chat, hmm?” You said nothing, staring at Loki. He was breathing heavily. Did he run all the way from the palace? How did he know I was gone? Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you noted the twitch of his fingers by his sides, the frantic dart of his eyes over your face, his lips itching to say the words jostling behind them.

Lagertha rose her eyebrows at you, and you nodded in confirmation. She made a fist at the thin material on Loki’s chest and pulled him inside. The bronze door slammed. The god smoothed his hair back, his abdomen twitching. “Upstairs is about as private as it gets,” Lagertha said breezily, shuffling across the floor. Her bare feet whispered across polished marble. “Just…try not to throw him out the window, will you?” she asked as she passed, patting your shoulder. “The kids need those hams from the palace.”

You lowered your gaze as her wizened hand lingered and then slid into the darkness beyond with the rest of her. And the next thing you felt was the gentle touch of a finger trailing up your jawline. “Little Ow—" “—Don’t.” The finger flinched. Your vision started to blur. “I’m so embarrassed, Loki,” you whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear the waver in your voice. His brows peaked.

“Come upstairs,” he said, letting the fingers graze down your arm and tentatively cupping your hand. Loki led you up the staircase, his perfect ass shifting in those ridiculous leather pants. You bit your lip, trying to douse the hope building in your gut. That hope always got you in trouble. The measuring room looked different by moonlight. A wide bar of white spilt through the solitary window. Outside, Asgard's twin moons were almost in perfect alignment. Once every 500 years, you thought lazily. The chaise in the corner was still in the same place you’d first seen the god draped over it, the first place you’d seen the hint in his eyes there could be something more.

He dropped your hand, pacing to the centre of the room, and spread his arms, turning in a solemn circle. Loki looked up beneath his lashes, the bruise shadowing one half of his face, and moonlight dashing the other. “I am, who I am,” he said with a tinge of bitterness. Loki’s tongue nipped over his lips, trepidation flashing on his features. “To everyone…I am the prince of pleasure. I am usually drunk, mostly rude, or having sex…or all three.” You rolled your eyes, arms folding over the thin nightdress. “But then…I met you,” he finished. He crossed the room, a hand sliding around your waist. “Years in the palace shovelled dirt on the person who I am, who I want to be. I felt like I was…mad. But with you, I feel whole. I can be…free.”

His lips brushed yours, hovering. “When they said The Rite had been successful…I was blinded by everything I always thought I wanted. Everything I’d been conditioned to want by that awful place, just for a moment," he said, voice catching against the short puffs of your breath into his mouth.

“But what I truly want…is you. And you owe me nothing, I know that. But I need you to know that I —” You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips, tongue demanding entry as he stumbled back and clasped his hands at your back.

“I love you, Loki,” you gasped through messy kisses. "You fucking fool, I do...I just thought, I thought..."

He pulled away. The dark, tangled halo of his hair framed the angles of his face. Loki’s eyes were black in the gloom, a small sliver of blue ringing blown pupils. He cupped your jaw, and brushing a thumb over your parted lips. “I love you in ways I thought weren’t possible, I love—”

Your body moulded to him like a magnet, tongue exploring his it was the first time. His hands cupped the base of your skull as one of yours worked down his chest, down his waist. Loki hissed, jolting back. “I’m sorry,” you said, glancing at the ragged scratch. “What happened?” “Fandral,” he muttered, but before you could ask his mouth was on yours again. You squeezed his cock through the tight leather as Loki unwound his hands from your hair and shrugged the ceremonial robe from his shoulders. “Can we…you know... now?” you breathed against his chest as your eager fingers pulled at his laces. Loki’s chest shook with silent laughter but all he said was, “Yes. If you want to.” You looked up, scandalised. “If I want to? Are you mad?” Loki’s hands stilled around yours. The tip of his cock was hard against your fingers, and all you wanted to do was dig down the narrow gap of the fabric and squeeze; feel him tremble under the weight of how much you wanted every part of him. “If you don’t want me anymore, if The Rite was too much and now you have doubts…you’re under no obligation to—”

“—Fuck you?” A smirk curled at one side of Loki’s mouth. “Well, yes.”

“You’re every bit the arsehole they say you are,” you said, poking the centre of his chest, “you’re vain, and brash, and arrogant…” Loki’s smile grew, sinking slowly to his knees. “Keep talking, darling. Ruin me.” His thumbs and forefingers curled above your knees, working upwards and raising the hem of your nightdress with it. “Proud, and mouthy…but…you’re also kind, and generous and, oh-gods,” Loki’s mouth fastening to your clit, suckling gently. Your fingers raked through his hair, pulling his face tighter to the heat between your legs. In the pearl-slick gloom, there was only you and him; Lagertha's fabrics glistening like exotic bird wings in the half light. Your legs trembled and Loki’s hands flew to your ass, balancing as you staggered through orgasm with a rush of his name.

Sinking to the floor under his guidance, your lips met; whispers of ‘I love you,’ cracked the stillness while Loki waved his hand, and soft fur rugs unfurled from nothing on the floor.

You pressed against his chest, nudging him onto his back. Light kisses were peppered on his bruised under eye, down the line of his nose, across his parted lips. You travelled down his neck, tongue nipping over the thick vein straining and dipping into the hollow of Loki’s collarbone. “Please,” he gasped quietly, nails scraping lovingly down the ridges of your spine, “I need you, I’m begging you, darling.”

“A Prince? Begging?” Tutting softly, you straddled his hips, scooting down the god’s long legs and pulling the leather trousers as you went. Loki laughed as you threw them to the side and kissed up his perfect femurs, and then up the trail of the scratch on his stomach. His cock nestled between the swell of your breasts, pre-cum leaking into the fabric of the nightdress. “No…” Loki whined with feigned frustration. Or maybe not feigned, you thought with a thrill. His cock was incredibly hard, flat to his stomach, the tip dripping fat beads of arousal to the skin below. He arched his back, his eyes flashing with a primordial need. Your grip tightening around the girth, and Loki released a guttural choke. With a deft swoop, you captured the crown of his cock in your mouth. Loki was silent for a moment, and then, he moaned.

It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His skin was velvet against your tongue; every ridge pulsing in time with each suck. Loki’s words were unintelligible. Murmurs of praise in an ancient tongue, the glimpse of his fingers tightening around the furs out of the corner of your eye, his hips quivering with the effort of not emptying down your throat. Your fingers tightened around the base, tongue flicking the sensitive underneath of his shaft. Loki squirmed, and you looked up – mouth full of his cock. His brows peaked in desperation, his jaw slack and strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “I need to be inside you,” he panted, biting back a groan, “please…fuck me. Please—" Before he could finish the sentence, you’d crawled up his chest, kissing him like a Valkyrie. Loki Odinson was putty in your hands, thrusting against your bare thighs like a needy youth desperate to feel a cunt wrapped around his prick for the first time. And it was fucking hot.

A deep groan rumbled in Loki’s chest, and it was only at the last second you realised it was a growl.

He flipped you to your back, caging your wrists above your head, and spread your knees wider with one of his own, settling in the middle. Loose hair hung around his jawline. Above you was the devastating god of legend: the one that could ruin a city and a woman with one smoulder. And he was yours. “I love you,” he said again, nudging his cock at your slippery entrance. You arched up, capturing his lips. “Please, Loki,” you whispered. Loki’s cock breached and the two of you stilled. He panted slowly; his eyes fixed on yours as he eased himself inside.

The god’s forehead rested against yours as he circled his hips; a fullness rising like the tide filling a narrow cave. Of all things you expected Loki to be – gentle wasn’t one of them. And now, you weren't sure why. You clenched on every drag of his cock from your cunt, relishing the pained pleasure in his eyes before he sank inside again.

Each wickedly slow wave of his hips caught the deepest secrets of your desires; his breaths timed with yours, and only your name on his tongue. And then, his lips lowered to your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth as he came with a thunderous gasp of devotion. "I'm yours," he breathed. "Utterly."

Your legs tightened around his hips, capturing him deep, locking tight enough you’d swear you’d never let go.

Loki's face buried in your neck, his heartbeat thumping against your chest. “I feel cheated,” you whispered against his cheek.

He frowned, pulling back. His cock twitched inside your snug cunt. Norns, it was even more perfect than he dreamed it would be, but — “Excuse me?” he said, followed by a confused snort unbecoming of royalty. He cringed as your lips rippled with a stifled smile. “I’ve heard all these tales of Prince Loki and his sexual theatrics…drama, you know?” You shrugged, and Loki tried to ignore the gnawing desire rear in his lower stomach at how innocently fucked-out you looked. “Is my lover…unsatisfied?” “No?” You bit your lip, and Loki’s manhood eased from your silken channel with a licentious slurp. His eyes narrowed as you continued with, “That was…incredible, I just…you’re different to how I thought you’d be. Gentler, more…romantic.” Loki knelt back, heels digging against his ass. He ran his hands through sweat-damp hair, pausing with the fingers locked behind his head. “You should be honoured,” he sniffed imperiously. “I don’t think I’ve made love like that in…” He realised he’d been staring at the window and tilted his head to meet your eyes, “Ever.” Your beam of pride made his heart explode into a thousand, shining pieces. He towered over your moon-drunk body, memorising the lines that appeared in your face when you were truly happy. Joy. Acceptance. Love. So, this was what it felt like. One finger traced over Loki’s lips, down his chin; fell to his chest and continued its descent between his ribs. “Are you asking to experience both sides of me, tonight?” he asked: slow, gravelled.

You bit your lip again, but the smile couldn’t be contained. Loki lowered, making a show of placing his palms above each of your shoulders.

“Are you asking for Loki of Asgard to fuck you like a god?” he growled, relishing the frantic nod of your head. “To take you as his mistress, and mark you as his own?” He shot you a wolfish grin. No words passed your lips – at least, none known to gods or men. Your hips thrust up to meet the dangle of his riotously hard cock with a clouded, desperate mischief in your eyes.

“Mmm,” Loki hummed, sliding a flat palm between your breasts and massaging the base of your neck. In one graceful movement Loki’s hand dropped to your waist, the other scooping beneath your hips and sliding your body up his thighs. He gave your arse a tight smack, grabbing a handful of hot flesh with an approving rumble. He held you still above the tip of his cock, mustering his best look of regal indifference. “What do you want?” he goaded. The fingernails digging into his shoulder muscle would leave marks, but Loki didn’t care. “Fuck me again, Loki…please, hard” you gasped, raking through his hair. He knew it would be hanging in perfect dishevelment around his jaw, trailing the hollow of your neck, strands marking his moonlit skin like ink.

Loki lowered you an inch, letting the tight ring of your cunt swallow the tip of his cock. His whole body shuddered, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of your waist. “F—fuck, darling,” he stuttered. He hoped he’d never become accustomed to that silken fire.

You yelped as Loki powered upward.

His thighs smarted, and your legs tightened around his waist. The god took several steps forward, pressing you tightly against the turret wall.

Asgard’s twin moons shone through the window, coating the city rooftops like white sapphire. They're almost joined, he noticed. The court would be out in force for the event: fires blazing, chants ringing. His absence would be noted. But all Loki could feel was the beat of your heart against his, and your whispers of forever in every breath.

The moan that ripped from your throat as he buried himself was heaven, and Loki intended to wring pitches of pleasure from that pretty throat that you’d never thought possible. He ripped the neckline of your nightdress, devouring the supple skin that taunted him — palming your perfect breasts, and his enthusiasm as harsh from his throat as it was from his cock. You arched into his body, offering your neck like a willing rabbit to a panther. Or was he the rabbit? Hel's fire: It had never been like this.

He wanted to consume you, or rather, let you consume him. An endless cycle of lust, and love, and eternity. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Whatever he’d found in you, he’d found himself. Every inch of himself was alight with the grip of your cunt as he bottomed out again and again. A hand flew above your head, gripping a chunk of uneven stone. “Make me yours, Loki Odison,” you breathed as your climax ebbed, clenching tightly around the root of his cock. He dragged it out with a gritted growl. Webs of cum squelched as he eased in, and out; your ambrosial mess coating the wet, slow clap of skin. “You give yourself freely,” he panted, and your fingers wrapped deeper in his hair, tugging sharply. He hissed, delivering a punishing thrust that made the wall behind you tremble. “I take nothing which isn’t offered freely; I take nothing which isn’t already mine.” At that, your crossed ankles pressed deeper into the base of his spine. Loki thought he might explode. “Mark me with your power, Loki,” you said, nudging his lips to yours. “Uhhh, g-gods…don’t…” A sob caught in his throat as he felt orgasm swell. He bit into your shoulder, sucking hard enough to bruise. Your gasp of pleasure was the final tie. It snapped. Loki’s hand flew to your ass, pulling you a final devastating time down the rippling veins of his length. His heavy breaths thrummed with climax, your hands fastened to the sides of his face – forcing his eyes to yours.

“Mark me,” you slurred, resting your head against the wall: watching him come undone inside your sweet cunt with a lazy smile. Loki’s vision blurred, blood thundering in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, face tipped to the ceiling and a strangled moan choking from his throat as he emptied molten seed deep inside you for a second, glorious time.

Your lips fastened to the hard vein throbbing in his neck, kissing up until they met the angle of his jaw. "Which side of me do you prefer, then?" he asked, noting the wild thump of his heart. He felt your smile against his cheek.

"I love all of you, Loki." You kissed the tip of his cheekbone. "Every side," you whispered, "and each piece between. You never have to pretend with me. And I promise, I won't pretend with you."

Loki's vision blurred, a thick swallow working down his throat. And for the first time, he knew without a doubt exactly what he wanted; what he needed.

“Marry me,” he murmured, and your grip on his hair faltered. “What?” You looked at him with nothing less than utter bemusement. “You can’t be—" “Serious? Deadly.” Loki lowered you to the ground and kissed you so deeply that he felt the hidden parts of him mingle with yours. But it was meant to be this way. “You opened yourself to me during The Rite – gave me my destiny – but it wasn’t the succession, it was you.” You opened your mouth and closed it again.

Loki raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Balls of light burst in perfect sync in mid-air: dozens of tiny, flickering orbs of golden flame. Your eyes met his. “Loki, I love you, but you don’t mean that you need to…your family would never—" “—Fuck my family,” he said softly. “To Hel with their inane traditions that serve no one but themselves. I will marry you, and I’ll be happy. I’ll make you happy. If you want it.” Loki touched his forehead to yours, feeling your shoulders begin to shake. “Together, we can usher in a new age of Asgard; a new dawn.” Loki drew his face away, unsurprised to see tracks of silent tears making your cheeks glisten. With every second that passed, the nerves in his stomach skittered to the emptiest corners of his mind he preferred never to tread.

“Will you have me?” he whispered, searching your face. “Will you help me?” The air was knocked out his lungs as you threw your whole weight at him; arms locked around his neck and mouth pressed violently to his own.

Amber slats of sunrise played in the sharp crevices of Loki’s cheekbones. They softened the bruise Thor had left. Loki hadn’t wanted to hide it, not from you. Not from Lagertha, either.

His blue eyes peered knowingly over the rim of one of her pattered teacups, narrowing softly. You smiled, and straightened as Lagertha came bustling through the kitchen door. “Ah, you stayed the night,” she said brightly, nodding to Loki and making for the teapot. “Thought you might. And I see you got the night-robe I left out, thank you for…wearing it. Not that I don’t appreciate the spectacle but given the circumstances it may be a little…inappropriate.”

She poured a cup, plopping down in the third seat at the small table, before looking between you. An eyebrow rose.

“If I go upstairs, Loki Odinson, there better not be a button out of place.”

The words were honeyed, but you could tell she’d kick his ass if there was. And Loki knew it too. You stifled a laugh as his eyes widened, and he pressed an innocent hand to his chest: mortally wounded. “Every thread is in place, Lagertha. You have my word.” She rolled her eyes, landing on you with a wink. "Mmm..." she murmured sceptically, her eyes falling to the tattered neckline of your nightgown. Heat crept up your neck.

The three of you sipped in silence before Lagertha said, “So I assume I’ll need to clear my weaving schedule for a wedding, then?” Loki's tea erupted in a splutter, bringing a fist to his mouth and coughing frantically. You turned to her. “I…um…we,” Lagertha patted your hand. “Don’t worry dear, I wasn’t listening. But like I said the first time we met…I have eyes.” She smiled gently. “Am I wrong?”

Her wry gaze swung between the two of you. “Thought not. Fandral just ordered a new batch of capes. I’ll tell him it won’t happen this quarter: Royal wedding garments take top priority, you see. What a shame. I know how much he loathes not getting what he wants.”

She gave you another wink. “But, for the two of you, I shall enjoy every moment.”

Loki reached across the table, and your own hand crawled forwards, meeting it. “I love you,” he murmured. “Finally,” Lagertha huffed. “Nice to hear you say it out loud – blazing Norns, it’s been a long week. If I wasn’t already grey, I would be.” Loki threw her a loving glare as his thumb massaged the centre of your palm. Despite lack of sleep, you’d never felt more awake. “As much as I adore her, Lagertha likes to think she knows everything, darling.” “Cos’ I do,” she said with a shrug. “At least where weaving and their enchantments are concerned. But this?” She gestured between you, “It was as obvious as Asgard is golden. Colour me unsurprised when you announce it and no one bats an eye. He’s met his match, and I’ll curse anyone who says otherwise; weave a spell into their robes which makes them perpetually shit themselves, perhaps. But you better not forget about the little ones—”

“—Never,” Loki cut in. She nodded, and put her hand on top of the knot you and Loki had made. A golden ribbon as thin as cobweb snaked over your wrist, slithering in soft waves through the gaps in your fingers and up Loki’s forearm.

“May the Norns bless you,” Lagertha said with a gentle smile, and the ribbon dissolved like melted sugar, absorbing into your skin. And as you and Loki’s eyes met, you knew, finally, that they did.

A/N: Thank you so much for coming on this journey with meee❤️I really hope you enjoyed seeing a bit more of this version of my Asgard, silly as it is. 🕯️ Whether you're reading this two days or two years afterwards, I'd love to hear your thoughts 😊 May the Lagertha-Vibes be with you, always.

A Masterlist for The Rite is here Series now: Complete. A link to my regular Masterlist is here

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