#no fear // laurits and oscar fight // one fear

[laurits-is-loki]

I'm a fervent Laurits/Oscar truther but I then start to think about Heimdall and Loki and what happened to them during Ragnarök and I just kinda go a little weak on the knees ngl

[hiyaluronic]

The beginnings of the ragnarok/loki series xover that has decided to take over my brain is below...

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The chaos of the battlefield around him dwindled to nothing more than a muted play of distant actions that seemed foreign to him, almost dreamlike; as if he was watching everything happen from far away. He could hear someone scream behind him, the person’s voice so loud that the earth vibrated beneath his bare feet with such frenetic energy that Laurits swore the reverberations shook the very energy that made up his being. 

Something sweet and pungent drifted across the barren valley while everything seemed to slow. There was a flash of lightning above that split the grey sky and illuminated the battle around him, the clash of swords and shouts of rage dulled when the lightning gave way to a loud crack of thunder that echoed and rippled through the valley, seeming to shake the mountains that framed the basin.

Laurits turned, his hands bright and burning at his sides, his fingers a deep green from pent up magic he’d yet to unleash. He watched, time seeming to stretch to an infinite amount of seconds before him, as Ran notched an arrow across the valley and aimed. Off to his side, somewhere in the rage of angered shouts and cries of pain, he heard Oscar scream his name. The deep timbre of the other man’s voice was shaky and lilted in concern. Laurits flexed his fingers and raised his hands in warning to Ran. The seidr that he’d worked so painstakingly hard to master interweaved around his fingers and crackled like fireworks. 

Laurits was so focused on Ran that he missed when something sharp and agonizing slammed into his side and caused him to crash to the ground in a heap. He gasped, colors swirling across his vision when his head bounced off the rocky ground beneath him. Laurits groaned and blinked, the bright blue of Magne’s otherworldly eyes staring wide and unsure down at him. 

“Ma-magne?” He hated how childish his voice sounded, how his brother's name rolled off his tongue in uncertainty. He could see the deep obsidian of Magne’s pupils expanding to eat away at the blue of his brother’s irises and contrasting with the ashen pallor his brother’s skin had taken on, making the cherry red of Magne’s cheeks stand out in worrisome detail. 

“I… I couldn’…”

A haggard cough had Laurits reaching up to grasp his brother's shoulders when Magne’s arms buckled. “Magne?” 

“I…i saved...you.”

“You’re an idiot.” The affectionate reprimand made Magne smile, his brother’s teeth stained a ruddy color that reminded him of the time he and Magne had eaten one too many cinnamon candies. 

Laurits hesitantly tightened his grip on Magne’s shoulders to steady his brother, concern and ice cold fear settled uneasily in his gut as he quietly called Magne’s name once more. When his brother ignored the soft plea, he gently rolled the older boy off him and scooted to his knees. His hands hovered in uncertainty over the mess that made up his brother's side. He winced in sympathy, a section of Magne’s shirt had been burned away, the skin left charred around the edges of an angry looking wound that wept bright red and brown fluid in vigor, saturating the jeans Magne wore and smelling foul.

“I don’t know what to do Magne, Wotan wouldn’t teach me healing magic.” And he’d hated the older man for it. Odin had deemed healing magic to feminine an art, and unworthy of a male learning the finer workings of magic. Laurits now wished he had told Odin to get fucked as he turned his attention from the wound to the blood speckled face of his brother. 

“H...hornns.”

Laurits frowned and leaned closer to Mange, “Horns?”

“Fe-feel it.”

“You’re not making any sense.” He shook his head and gripped the lapel of Magne’s jacket until his fingers were white and aching. “Magne, stay with me, yeah?”

He could see Magne fighting against the chilling grip of death. He watched his brother gasp tiny wisps of air while trying and failing to form words before seeming to settle and still; his otherworldly blue eyes fading. Laurits’s eyes burned at the realization that his brother had slipped from this world with little fanfare. “Y-you idiot. You self-sacrificing bumbling idiot.”

Another flash of lightning - orange this time, Laurits noted - sparked above, casting an eerie glow over Magne’s blonde hair and vacant gaze. Laurits closed his eyes; his brother wasn’t supposed to die. They had made a promise to each other that it would be different this time… Ragnarok would not be the death of everything they had worked so hard to achieve and protect. It would not be their end. He and Magne had forbidden it. And, yet... “Please, brother, please…”

Laurits curled around Magne’s chest, his own chest heaving with each heavy breath he took. 

This had to be a dream.

Had to be an illusion. 

Some sort of spell cast by the Jutuls to distract from the battle.

The air seemed thick and cloying, settling like a heavy blanket around him and creating an unbearable heat that gathered within him at the notion that someone would use such a cruel trick to subdue a godling. Laurits sat back on his haunches, focused on the battle of gods and giants with an odd sort of frozen numbness. His head lolled to the side, attention settling on his Stepmother who had just loosed an arrow and was in the midst of notching another. Laurits slowly stood, his mind and body a million miles away from one another and caught Ran’s attention from across the valley. His hands moved without conscious thought as seidr gathered and swelled around his fingers. He realized how easy it would be to smother the very essence that made up the giantess with the gentlest push of his will. How easy it would be to bring Ran to her knees by burning her precious waters till nothing was left but the cracked silt of the ocean floor and the floundering bodies of the creatures that lived there in their death throes. 

His fingers twitched.

“Variant identified.”

The voice barely registered, Laurits was too focused on Ran to notice that someone had stepped up behind him until a hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn. Laurits brought his hand up to defend himself but was stopped when the unknown woman grabbed his arm and jerked it painfully out to the side and twisted, one of her hands coming to rest against the base of his neck. 

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the Sacred Timeline. You’re to come with us, Variant.”

“T-the what?” Laurits hissed as something tight settled around his neck and he was pulled up and shoved into the waiting arms of two men dressed in black armor. “Let go!”

The woman huffed and turned to another person dressed in the same strange getup, “Reset the timeline.”

“Hey!” Laurits shouted when the unknown person the woman had addressed knelt and situated a glowing tube beside the still form of Magne. “Get away from him!”

The woman turned to him with a raised brow and shook her head, dismissing him. “Let’s go!” 

“Magne!” Laurits fought against the arms around him, trying and failing to reach his brother as he was pushed and pulled backwards by the men holding him, “Magne!”

He dug his heels into the ground and grunted with effort as he tried to pull away. The men holding him yanked back on him and pulled him through an oddly colored orange doorway. The last thing he saw was a wash of yellow saturating the still form of his brother and Magne melting away to the ground below. 

“No!”