#the general assumption is it means he lacks heart like compassion in his plans but i DO find that interesting

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

Idk if this means anything, but both Kouyou Ozaki (Tokutaro Ozaki) and Soseki Natsume (Kinosuke Natsume) have works titled "Kokoro", which Mori is described as lacking in the scene where he and Fukuzawa fight when he takes Yosano out of the isolation facility.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Small things that kill me…

… The look on Vergil’s face when Nero gives the ‘Dante’s not going to die up here and neither are you’ speech.

Honestly… Just all of his interactions w/ Nero in that scene.

Vergil’s a fucking dumbass who has no clue how to person at this point, he’s a complete wreck who may or may not have known he had a kid before the whole incident w/ Mundus, but now he’s even less equipped to deal w/ it, he has precious little if any practice not being at the least indifferent at the most hostile…

I think one of Vergil’s big issues is indifference, to the consequences for his actions, especially for others, for what others think, for himself in many ways… While V did develop a bit, enough to realise splitting himself in half caused massive, destructive consequences for countless people. Sure, maybe he couldn’t have predicted (which I don’t think he did) that Urizen would go that bonkers, but setting half a demon loose on the world would generally be a bad idea, to say nothing of ripping someone’s arm off in order to do so (the extreme indifference again, causing him to be unable to properly ask for help—I don’t think he enjoyed or ‘wanted’ to ‘hurt’ Nero, but the consequences never crossed his mind; to him, it was just something he had to do to survive, that was all that mattered). And that’s all a result of what he went through ever since the attack—I have this whole ramble about how I think his and Dante’s fighting styles reflect the (both unhealthy in their own way) way in which they reacted to that traumatic event—but bc he’s been fending for himself since eight, w/ only the Yamato on hand, he’s downright dangerously/extremely self sufficient/obsessed with being completely self reliant. Like the Phantom of the Opera’s ‘the world showed no compassion to me’ except really. His entire life was just about getting through the day, he had it drilled into him by experience that he could only truly trust himself, that he needed to be able to do things entirely on his own—to the point that even after being ripped apart, pretty much literally, by Mundus, he still can’t ask for help. It is a result of his trauma, but it means he has very limited skill in thinking of other people. Like, if we get a future game w/ him as one of the protags, I feel like that would be something he’d absolutely struggle w/, being more aware of others. That it would take him twice as long to react/do things that might take others like Dante or Nero a moment bc he has to actively make himself think about others, forcibly train himself to do that.

Anyway, I’m going off topic. My thought is… Vergil’s definitely not, at first glance, or even second glance, or third, parent material. I love the character, he’s a walking disaster. He’s no good at thinking of others, and is indifferent to what others think of him. I think he still loved Dante in his own, very damaged way, but he’d rallied himself against that feeling for so long, considered it weakness and shut it out, that he likely won’t be able to express it in any understandable way for a long time. And on the inverse, he can’t conceive of, for instance, Dante actually caring about him—like… He doesn’t think he matters to anyone either, puts no emotional value in himself. If that makes any sense? Like… Even when he does encounter compassion, he rejects and suspects it… Dante is a weird case, but I do see Vergil not understanding that he matters to anyone. He’s indifferent to everyone, including himself, and he doesn’t expect any more care or affection from others than he shows—like he’s not one of those jerks who expects people to like him despite being a jerk, he’s just largely given up on relationships (he either thinks they only bring pain, or that, like his softer feelings for Dante, they are weakness).

And I think he went up there to die. Pride and stubbornness prevented him from surrendering, but he had at least some idea of the enormity of the consequences of his actions. At the least, he knew he’d majorly fucked up and caused a lot of pain. I think his intentions were similar to that of Griffon and crew—face Dante one last time, fight all out bc his own pride wouldn’t let him do any less, and leave it up to fate. I don’t think he expected to kill Dante, just that he couldn’t not fight his hardest, out of respect and bc it was his nature. But he had no illusions over his probability of survival. The only reason he did throw the sheath away this time was that it wasn’t a ‘suicidal blaze of glory’ like I think fighting Mundus might’ve been, but more of a trial by combat, to him. Dante, meanwhile, was just assuming/accepting that he was going to have to take his brother out again, and he likely wasn’t planning on ever coming back from that, either (which I don’t think Vergil realised), either by dying in the fight, too, or going into hell on his own.

But then Nero shows up. Now I think V and therefore Vergil were at least aware that Nero and Dante mattered to each other, bc Dante’s the kind and caring one and Nero’s a good kid. Like, I’m sure he was aware of that.

I don’t think he’s surprised Nero interrupted (that form probably was unexpected, but Nero objecting in general or trying to rejoin the fighting wasn’t completely unthinkable) or that Nero was defending Dante.

I think what catches him off guard is the ‘and neither are you.’

He ripped Nero’s arm off and then knowingly deceived him as V, and on top of that, turns out Nero is his son who he pretty much abandoned (like we don’t know the details of when and why Vergil left, or if he knew, but the fact is, he made choices that resulted in him not being there for Nero). And that’s to say nothing of all the hell Urizen caused. Basically, a list of things that would generally result in Nero falling into the same category as everyone else—another burned bridge, another person who hates him, and Vergil is quick to close doors. He expects no consideration from Nero, no more than he’s shown, and V was aware they had horribly hurt Nero (esp since V was weaponising Nero’s issues surrounding that).

But instead of just completely writing Vergil off like Vergil expects, Nero extends this declaration of ‘not dying’ to him as well. Sure, Vergil immediately tries to throw up the usual prideful walls what w/ that ‘if I beat Nero I win by default’ stuff, but then he later tries to get Nero to stand down rather than continuing the fight, saying it has nothing to do w/ him [Nero], and then his reaction to Nero’s ‘it has everything to do w/ me’… He just doesn’t know how to react to Nero? He expects one thing, but Nero just keeps defying his assumptions (which takes some mighty powerful heart and compassion on Nero’s part bc while I do see Vergil as incredibly tragic and don’t think he’s fully ‘responsible’ for Urizen’s actions, Nero doesn’t have a lot of that info, but he’s making the decision that this is fucked up and no family of his is going to kill each other—so anyway while I do love me the angsty drama dads, let me just say I love Nero, too).

It’s with Nero that bits of his awkward, ‘tsundere’ side come out, ever so slightly. He and Dante have trapped themselves in a pattern, Dante bc he’s Tired and has just resigned himself to the necessity of it an wants to get it over w/ and Vergil bc at his core he’s afraid to try anything else bc he sees it as weakness. But I said this before, I think Nero being his son and Nero being… How Nero is, all heart and and good and warm and compassionate, to the point that he’s defying not just the ‘inevitability’ of Vergil and Dante being at odds, but literally fighting to save him, after all he’s done… I think that meant something.

Obviously, it’s not going to be simple or easy, and I do think that, now that he’s been given hope that he can get through to Vergil and not have to kill him (which I think he’d concluded was a sort of mercy kill?), Dante is the best person for Vergil to get used to his emotions etc. w/ bc they have that deep understanding of each other and what happened, esp now, but… I love how Nero cracked his shell there? Like… He’s not really prepared for it, but I think I can see Vergil wanting to at least try to be some kind of parental, esp after he’d recovered a bit more? And I do think he’d also respect if Nero ultimately told him to get lost (although I can seem him, like, watching from afar or something), even now, bc again w/ the whole I think he has no expectations of what others think of him, but… I do see him wanting (and maybe having trouble accepting that he wants it, at first) to be part of Nero’s life in some way? Esp in a vein of… Wanting to preserve Nero’s ‘goodness’ for lack of a deeper word? Bc I can see a slightly more recovered post dmc5 Vergil not wanting his son to fall down the same holes he did. Like, they’ve all gone through trauma, and lost people, but Vergil is now very aware that he ended up hurting and even killing people and very nearly destroying himself and going absolute monster, to the point his twin brother, who understood him on another level, in their own way, resigned to having to kill him to stop it (I genuinely think for all his talk, Dante did see it as a bit of a mercy kill, the only way he could preserve the last shreds of the brother he loved and keep Vergil from actually going Full Urizen [V even existing means that Vergil wasn’t completely gone, but I think he was on thin ice]). Dante’s already dragged into this by the very same events that placed him there, but Nero has a chance not to be, which I think was part of his ‘this has nothing to do w/ you’ thing, and I totally see Vergil following that sentiment and wanting to keep Nero from ever turning out like him. 

Vergil’s probably never going to be ‘nice’ or very good at empathy or things like that. It may forever take him more willpower to think about others. He may need to start small (like just Nero and/or Dante). He’ll probably still be insensitive for years to come. He’ll never be able to be as easily open and compassionate as Nero and Dante. And he knows he can’t change the past, can’t undo the Arkham incident, or what he did to Nero, or the fact that his stubbornness, pride, inability to ask for help, obsessive habits, and indifference/inconsideration for consequences had calamitous results. He’s not magically good or saved bc he has a kid, but I think even just knowing about and seeing Nero act the way he did resonated w/ something he thought he’d lost a long time ago. Nero and V’s interactions have a whole new light for him now. I absolutely think if Dante’s willing the twins should stick together bc they balance each other, Dante can watch him, won’t take his shit, and wants to help him be better, but… I think even if that didn’t happen… There’s a chance just knowing Nero exists and is so… Good could enough of a catalyst for Vergil to find a different way to live, even on his own. Like there’s a sense of pride? Not in the vein of taking responsibility for Nero turning out as good as he did, but, like, in the way people sometimes say ‘I’m sorry’ like ‘I’m sorry that you are sad’ as in ‘I am expressing sympathy for your sadness.’ Pride that Nero has achieved this, and is strong in his own right. If that makes sense.

He will always be rather an asshole. But, esp if he has some support for his issues and someone watching him… He can do better. Like… Do better. He’ll always be stiffer and pricklier than everyone else, he’ll probably be more pragmatic, think more w/ logic than w/ heart. Emotions and empathy and compassion will always be hard.

But those interactions (and, honestly, that whole ending, even more honestly, the themes of  the whole game), def gave me the impression that he could absolutely do better.

… I just went on a total stream of consciousness ramble, so, uh, virtual treat of your choice if you read all that.

[loki-godofmischief-myking]

Love Is For The Foolish (4)

Loki x Asgardian!Reader

The story of Loki, god of mischief, and a dark seamstress. The chapter fic for Love Makes Fools Of Us All 

<== Previous | Next ==>

Chapter 4: One-Night Stand

The sun’s bright beams of light burst through every window ridding the room of its darkness. The light shifted producing different shadows as the morning hours progressed. Eventually light found your face causing you to flinch away.

When you tried moving you felt a weight around your waist. Startled by your growing consciousness you turned back slightly to see your companion fast asleep. Hardly any noise emerged as you precautiously bit your lower lip to suppress a shocked gasp. 

The memories of the night before flooded your mind. Loki had been a surprisingly generous lover. He had fully and thoroughly pleased you and you, in turn, did the same into the early hours of the morning.

Cautiously, you removed his arm and slipped out from under him. Your naked bodies finally parting for the first time since the beginning of the whole ordeal. There was a slight ache at your lower half as you sat up but you ignored it trying to get out of bed and dressed as soon as possible, preferably before Loki awoke.

“Where are you going, Love?” Loki made it be known that he too was awake, spoiling your plans to retreat quietly. A pleased smile appeared as the morning light provided him a perfect view of you.

Your arms made quick work of concealing your chest while your legs crossed and shifted. “Home, where else would I go?”

Loki too sat up letting the bed sheet fall down to his lap, barely concealing his manhood. He leaned over to you picking up a lock of your hair that fell over your shoulder. “If I were to be honest, I’d prefer you never left.”

You sharply inhaled as your heart raced. His words were seemingly more effective on you after a night of passion. However, you chose not to acknowledge that he had affected you in such a way. “You call me an enchantress but it is you who wills magic to affect me in a way befitting your needs.”

“You only prove my theories with every charming quip that befalls those tender lips of yours,” Loki tittered. 

Enchantress was a word with double meaning. It was truly used to refer to women of magic or sorcery but it was also used to describe an attractive and beguiling woman. The latter being the one prince Loki more often referred to. 

“How we ended like this had little to do with my reading your mind. Although I do believe you would have continued to deny me had I not taken matters into my own hands.”

He may think you gave in because he had your back to the wall. That you agreed because he knew you had a semblance of physical attraction to him.

But you knew the truth. 

It was like you had told Sigyn. “If you ever do get married make sure you look for a man who will chase you to the ends of the earth- not for sexual satisfaction but for emotional support.”

The same was true for women. Financial support, sexual satisfaction, those were what most sought in a partner. What truly mattered was finding someone who can emotionally support you in your time of distress. The Prince Loki you saw the day before was a man of compassion and support. He chased after you; helped you both physically and mentally mend after your alarming altercation. In turn, you perhaps had grown sentiment for the prince. 

That was alarming.

“Like this?” Your eyes scanned his for insight. “What is this exactly?” You were still unsure considering how you were both nonchalantly having a conversation in the nude, granted you were more aware of the lack of modesty than he was, and you had yet to forget how he dismissed your concerns of being heard. The way he held you close as you slept... you wondered if this was common aftercare for the women he frequented or was he being genuine towards you. “You speak as if this were more than a one-time whim.”

“Correct me if I am wrong lady Y/N.” Loki swept your hair back exposing your shoulder. He trailed his lips along the shoulder and collar bone stopping short of your neck where he noted a fresh bruise. HIs tongue darted out to lick the flesh, immediately concealing but not healing it. “You don’t strike me as a lady who would lay with a man for the sake of sexual satisfaction and be done with him.”

You shivered at the contact of his tongue when he started trailing lower down your sternum. His eyes leered at the chain of your necklace as it was nestled tightly in between your breasts denying him the pleasure of going further into the valley between them. 

He spoke sweet words as he coaxed your arms off, to release the crystal from their soft prison. “A one night stand does not befit you.”

“One-night stand?” Your brow furrowed questioning the foreign term.

“It is a Midgardian term for a sexual relationship lasting only one night. From what I’ve read it usually is a result of inebriated young mortals with hypersexual tendencies and lax morals.”

“Then your assumption is correct.” You let go of your chest, as he wanted, only to wrap your arms around his neck. Your leg swung over his lap so you could sit on him. 

The unexpected move elicited a primal groan from Loki. Only the thin bedsheet stood in his way as you settled down on him. 

“From what I have heard, the term does seem to correlate to you Prince Loki.” You felt him grow underneath you. You slid forward to press your chest against his. “Truly, how many women do you seduce with that silver tongue of yours? I was more than willing to leave without another word.”

His hands rested on your hips to still you. “But now my enchantress?”

You sighed, “I do not doubt your interest.” All of the day before Loki had shown a genuine concern maybe even liking towards you. But there was too much uncertainty with the trickster. “However...”

Loki did not like your silent pause. “I assure you, I am always mindful of whom I let into my bed and always clear-headed lest I father countless illegitimate children.” 

This was possibly the first time he was feeling more than just lust towards a woman. He didn’t really know what he was doing being so honest.

“You might want to rethink your selections, your Highness.” You reminded him of the woman who had let herself into his room the night before- effectively contradicting his previous statement. 

“Again with the formalities.” He sighed realizing you were returning to your previous self. The one who wanted to keep her distance from him. 

You smiled as you gave him one last chaste kiss on the cheek. “You really have changed my mind about you Prince Loki. I now know you are capable of more than you are ascribed to. I’ll trust you to keep this a private matter as we go back to our original task.”

\\\

Loki rapidly threw daggers at Thor until one finally lodged into his shoulder. His expression remained the same, there was no triumphant smirk or witty remark.

The muscular blonde prince dropped his hammer as he pulled it out. This wasn’t the first time he had been stabbed by his brother. He knew the difference between a calculated blow and a hit of chance. This was the latter and no matter how many times Loki disregarded Thor’s intellect, he was aware of his brother’s emotional disarray.

“What has you so distracted brother?” His mind was clearly elsewhere as of late. “Is this about your lady friend?”

After a night of heavy drinking, brought on by Thor, Loki had let your name slip but nothing more. It had been a great amount of mead. He eventually passed out and was taken to his room by Thor.

Loki glared as he was reminded of you. 

Thor beamed smugly. For once he had found a weak spot to his brother and he was going to exploit it. “You called for her in your sleep.”

“We are done here.” Loki walked away leaving Thor in the middle of the field they had been sparring in. 

It had been weeks since he last saw you. Whenever he called for you the messenger would return with a message of your own. Mainly you claimed to be occupied with work and only spared him one meeting since the night you shared together.

He had yet to tell you about his mother’s request to speak with you. He thought of using it as a way to force you to the palace. An order of the Queen was something you could not turn down. But ultimately it seemed like a cowardly thing to do. 

Thor picked up Mjölnir before catching up to him. “Come now Loki I only wish to help.”

“My problems are none of your concern.” 

“I am your brother.” He wrapped his arm around Loki’s shoulders to keep him from escaping. “If I can help you then I shall!”

“You can hardly help yourself, you oaf.”

Thor laughed off his brother’s insults. “Brother you may be smart when it comes to books but I am well-versed when it comes to women.”

“I doubt it, should I remind you of Lady Sif?”

He laughed that off too causing heads to turn. “Now tell me your lady problems brother!”

Loki silenced and shoved him into the empty hall. “Are you trying to alert all of Asgard?” 

Thor smiled knowing this was the only way to get to Loki. Now that they were alone he became serious, eager to help his brother. “Mother expressed concern for you.”

The dark-haired prince sighed, of course his mother would notice his change in behavior. “Telling you would not solve anything.”

“How do you know?”

“You have never seriously courted. Even with Lady Sif, it has never been formal.” She was a childhood friend, the most likely candidate to be arranged to marry Thor by their father if he ever chose to do so. There was a history there that helped push them together. With you, it was all new uncharted territory. 

Thor’s eyes widened in shock. Was his brother seriously talking about officially courting someone? “Are you truly intending to ask this Lady Y/N to-”

“I already tried!” Loki lashed out remembering how you reverted back to your old ways as if nothing had happened. His hands clenched into fists thinking how vulnerable he allowed himself to be in front of you. 

The blonde prince realized he had dug into a fresh wound. Although he could not comprehend it fully without the details he knew his brother had done something even he could not. 

“I’m sorry Loki.”

The very idea that there was a woman in Asgard who was able to capture Loki’s interest left him at a loss for words. Now to think that said woman also turned down a prince of Asgard was unreal. He wondered if who exactly you were.

\\\

“Sigyn there is nothing to discuss.” You maneuvered around the petite blonde woman to fetch some more boxes. “Now make yourself useful and tie the ribbons on those packages.”

She reluctantly retreated to the table lined with sealed black boxes. They were missing the black satin bow signature to your packaging. These were all dresses you had made and were now ready to have delivered. 

On occasion, when work had pilled up, you piled on her to help. You were reluctant to hire help since you hardly needed it. Not to mention you loathed the thought of letting someone else into your life and your business was exactly that.

“You ran off with horrid bruises Y/N!” Sigyn shouted loud enough for you to hear her in the back room. “Then you came back with Loki and didn’t even come home until the next day!”

You sat down the large empty boxes on the other side of the table. “He helped me, that is all. You saw it, the bruises were gone so there is nothing for you to worry about.”

“I do not think worry is the correct word anymore. I’m more suspicious of you my friend. Without knowing what you two discuss during your meetings I can only speculate on a superficial level.” She finished tying the bow around the box and slid it aside. “I believe prince Loki when he said he did not harm you. His concern was genuine. Let’s say that event was unrelated for now. I still think you two resemble secret lovers. Acting as if you can hardly stand each other in the public eye only to passionately unite under the mask of night behind closed doors.”

“What an active imagination you have Sigyn.” You turned to your work in the hopes of dismissing her somewhat accurate theory. Taking another dress of the mannequin you posed a hypothetical. “Do you really think the prince would ever seriously court someone, more specifically me?” 

“Someone... no.” Sigyn knew Loki thanks to her short stint as his betrothed. “You... most definitely.” She had seen it herself, you two were a match. From your dress to your intellect, it was like you had been made specifically for the dark prince. “If anyone could ever enchant prince Loki it is you.”

“I agree with Lady Sigyn.”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you heard the loud thundering voice of the eldest prince. The one you had yet to meet in person. 

“Prince Thor,” Sigyn curtseyed with a bright smile. She had seen him walking up behind you but did not give you warning. 

“Lady Sigyn,” Thor acknowledged her before turning to you. “And you must be Lady Y/N or shall I call you my brother’s enchantress?”

“My name is fine,” you responded in annoyance, “Prince Thor.” It was clear that he wasn’t here for your services. Your guess was that Loki had tired of sending a messenger. “I’m afraid I do not have anything befitting of you.”

Thor laughed, “I can tell you and my brother get along well.”

Your eyes widened at the thought of Thor knowing what had gone on between you two. “Did he send you?”

“No,” Thor looked to Lady Sigyn silently asking if he could have a moment with you. She of course obliged and stepped out with the prospect of returning later.

 “Prince Thor I do not-”

“You can call me Thor.”

“I would rather not.” The tilt of your head caused your hair to fall forward. the unruly and untamed nature of your hair personified you. Even in the presence of a prince you were not afraid to speak your mind. “I do not take kindly to lies.”

"Truly Lady Y/N, I came of my own free will. I’ve been stabbed more times than I can count on my hands.” Loki had now been the one requesting to spar with Thor in order to channel his anger. It was getting less and less enjoyable. “Loki does not talk about his problems. He finds other PAINFUL ways to express his frustrations.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“After a night of heavy drinking he mentioned your name.”

“Wh-what did he say?” 

“Nothing then.”

You sighed feeling relief wash over you momentarily. "I’m assuming he said something at a later time.”

Thor nodded, “I do not want to interfere in your life or my brother’s Lady Y/N but I can’t help but wonder why you rejected him.”

“I’ve been busy with orders, I sent the messenger to explain.”

“I do not mean his requests to meet for reading.”

“Then what?” you asked genuinely confused.

“His offer to court you.”

\\\

Loki sighed as he was straightening up his appearance after a quick encounter with one of the maids. She laid strewn out on his bed, utterly spent after he let his rage out on her. He damned the day he gave in to you. Sexual satisfaction was far more stimulating when feelings were involved. He was utterly smitten by you, enchanted by your very being. It just wasn’t the same with anyone else.

“Leave now,” he ordered.

The maid was quick to dress and exit the prince’s room. 

Loki had yet to take a step when a knock came to the door. “What a clumsy fool you are to have forgotten something-” Loki bit his tongue when he opened the door to find you out in the hall. “Apologies.”

You shook your head. “No need to apologize, your Highness. I too believe I am a fool but for other reasons.” When you tried to leave he held you by the wrist and pulled you into his rooms. 

“Let go of me!”

“Whatever you think it’s not what it looks like.”

“Truly? Did I not see a maid walking out of your door like a newborn fawn?”

Even though he felt quilt, Loki was not accustomed to apologizing for his behavior so instead, he tried to place blame onto others. “What I do is none of your concern. Was it not you who was so repulsed by the thought of me that you decided to stay away?”

“I never said that!”

“You did not have to!”

“Do you really think I would give myself to you if I was repulsed? Loki I was merely protecting us from this.” You let your anger go so you could accurately portray your concerns. “I need you Loki.” But you don’t need me. “You are the only person I trust with my crystal and the only person I can depend on if something like that ever happens again.”

Loki released his hold on your wrist. “Then why do you deny me?”

You stared in silence unsure if you heard right. The way he diverted his eyes confirmed what Thor had said. “Loki that morning when you told me of the Midgardian single night stand-”

“One-night stand,” he corrected.

Now it was clear, “Prince Thor was right.” Loki really had tried to court you, in his own enigmatic way. When he suggested you were not of the one-night stand type you assumed he was easing your mind about having given in to your sexual desire for him despite all the talk against doing so. In fact, he was trying to assure you that he was likely to continue into a courtship with you. 

“What did that simpleminded oaf tell you?” Loki materialized dual daggers out of nowhere.

Your hand reached out to his arm, your touch easing him into lowering his weapons. “I heard you have inflicted enough damage already.” 

The daggers disappeared with a strangled sigh. “I thought you understood that I was not intending to treat you like the others. From the beginning, I have treated you with much more regard, held you to a higher standard, respected and admired your many charms.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. A jolt of electricity ran up your arm when he held your hand and brought it up to his lips. You stared into each other’s eyes for a moment until a soft knock came to the door.

Loki recognized the familiar intrusion and held your hand firmly to stop you from retreating like usual. “Will you allow me to properly court you?”

“Loki I-” You felt rushed to answer when the knock was repeated.

“Do not overthink, Love.”

The nickname took on a whole new meaning now. Prince Loki was not the kind of man you saw yourself with before but now you knew... You really did foolishly fall for him. You nodded, “I accept.”

“Come in,” Loki called out allowing his visitor to enter, not before hastily giving you a chaste kiss on the lips.

Queen Frigga entered radiating warmth and happiness at the sight of her son. “I apologize for interrupting your time with my son Lady Y/N.”

She knows my name! “I should apologize for being here my Queen,” you curtseyed to her. “I will take my leave.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Loki took your hand in his once more as a silent statement of recent events. 

“Indeed,” Queen Frigga’s smile grew. It was only a matter of time between you two found each other. No one but her knew how alike you two were. Deceit and darkness being central to you both. “I have something to discuss with you, my dear.”

“Me?”

She nodded, “about your heritage.”

\\\

It had been a long walk to the archives.

Loki walked the halls by your side, his hand resting on your lower back. He could sense your discomfort as you came upon a pathway guarded by multiple guards. They only moved aside with the Queen's command.

Once you were there you realized how old the room and its contents were.

The room was kept dark to preserve all texts and paintings within its walls. A long red rug with intricate design lined the central pathway. It looked a mix between a library and museum. Paintings of prolific persons were the main source of decoration along the walls followed by grand brass chandeliers on the ceiling. Their light source dimmed to the lowest capacity.

Your eye was caught by a glass chamber housing the first ever valkyrie attire. It was a heavy white dress accompanied with various pieces of silver armor. Touches of blue cobalt inlay along the trim. Your eyes narrowed in trying to make out the placard.

Loki urged you towards the case when he realized how it called to you. A silent plea for his mother to give you two a moment.

Queen Frigga acknowledged and proceeded on her own trusting Loki to bring you along shortly.

Bright-eyed and gawking you gave way to how much you admired the ancient gown. "It's remarkable; the woman who made it must have been a master seamstress. To create a piece so flowy and free yet sturdy enough for battle." You crouched down to look at the skirt catching a glimpse at the only mildly frayed ends. "To withstand the tests of time and stand here near perfection."

Loki had never seen such an innocent smile. "Would you like to take a look?" Without answer, he lightly tapped the glass making the front face disappear.

"I don't know if I should-" yet your hand reached out to it.

Loki chuckled as you gave him the perfect opportunity to tease you. “Saying one thing and doing another seems to be a frequent habit of yours, Love.”

“Should you mock the grounds of our rocky relationship before we even begin,” you shot back all the while your hands studied the fabrics. You were a true artisan, the feel alone gave you insights to the origins of materials. “Such powerful women the Valkyries...” Information was scarce yet you knew enough to idolize these women of battle. “I wonder why we no longer have valkyries.”

Loki also thought about that. He remembered his mother telling stories of the Valkyries to both he and Thor. “Did you know my brother dreamt of becoming a Valkyrie.”

“Prince Thor,” you laughed.

Loki nodded, “Mother had a lot of explaining to do before he understood how that was impossible.”

The light-hearted conversation relaxed you. It was obvious this was the intent, once again reminding you of your calculating dark prince.

Queen Frigga stopped in front of a pedestal, atop it laid a thick book. When you emerged with Loki she did her best to introduce you into the impending exigent. “By now you may have gathered that you are not entirely Asgardian.”

Your breath hitched as the Queen’s statement all but confirmed what you had only recently come to speculate with Loki’s help. “Was my mother from Vanaheim?”

She stepped behind the pedestal and opened the book. “This is the King’s archival manifest.” Her fingers flipped through the pages with grace and ease of someone who knew what she was looking for.

To you, it lacked the ceremonious appeal you had come to expect of the palace. Nonetheless, you were sure the contents were estimable enough.

“Information pertaining to your lineage, your birth, and your being may be more distressing and complex than you imagined my dear. I can not simply give you a yes or no response, there are important details...”

You have no idea why you turned to Loki but if it weren’t for his reassuring nod you would have turned away.

An action the Queen was well aware of.

“I am prepared for the worst,” you assured.

“And you would allow Loki this knowledge?”

Was it that bad? You once again looked to Loki. He stood his distance allowing you to decide for yourself. He did not say a word or try to make his case but his eyes said it all. He worried you still did not trust him.

“Yes,” you responded. Only time would tell if you made the right decision.

Frigga smiled, it was indeed as she had thought. Loki had managed to form a genuine connection with you. “Then I shall start with an apology Lady Y/N. For I personally bestowed the hematite onto you as a young babe. Rather than help you, I hid you.”

Loki had suspected his mother had something to do with it. There was no way Vanaheim would allow such a precious stone to be taken out of their realm by just anyone.

“Hid me?”  You did not understand.

“You see, your father is not Asgardian as the archives state. He was a powerful Vanir warrior that was cast out of Vanaheim for refusing to marry the princess of the realm. By mere coincidence or perhaps fate, he came to be on Asgard. Odin chose to keep him as a tool, an upper hand against Vanaheim and all realms.”

“Sounds like father,” Loki interjected. Even if there was no war against Vanaheim he was securing his victory ahead of time.

“He showed great bravery in all of Odin’s battles. Soon he caught the eye of the women. Two, in particular, were especially fond of him, one was your mother and the other Lady Lilithen.” Frigga thought for a moment, of the best way to go about the next part. “He did not make it clear who he wished to court.”

You crossed your arms with a huff, “Truly.” For all your father’s supposed power, he too had a weakness. The one you had always known men to have- women.

Frigga could not steer away from the topic as it was the very reason you came to be. Both women proceeded to pursue him until one of the two was with child. “He married your mother hastily in a time of impending war. Only weeks before he was to meet his child Odin sent your father to Jotunheim.”

The Queen’s words left a bitter taste in your mouth and a pain like no other in your chest. Your father had not abandoned your mother, nor had he abandoned you. “He didn’t have a choice,” you concluded out loud. The revelation stung your eyes.

“The war of Jotunheim was nearly lost had it not been for your father.”

Loki reached out to you, his fingers had only brushed against your own when your hand fully clasped around his. If you weren’t so proud he was sure you would spill your sorrows into his chest like the time before.

“Rest assured he is in Valhalla.”

It was little comfort but it was something for you to hold onto.

Your eyes closed as you made peace with the fact that you had hated your father for all the wrong reasons. “Why was I raised to believe such lies?”

"That is truly the most difficult to explain without changing your reality, Lady Y/N.” Frigga looked down at the text, the words blood and death littered the page. “On the day of your birth, Lady Lilithen felt the urge to avenge her scorn.”

She remembered how she sent the palace healers when your mother had called for assistance with the birthing. The process had dragged on for hours, alarming her. Your safety was her first priority and soon it became Frigga’s as well.

That morning Frigga was informed of your father’s death. She took it upon herself to be there for those he loved, to see that his newborn was welcomed into the world without harm. It was the least she could offer when he had given his life in battle.

“After a long birthing, your mother laid exhausted and vulnerable to harm. You, at only moments of having come into the world, were also no match for what she had planned.”

Lady Lilithen was overcome with jealousy. She could not idly stand by while her beloved formed a family with another woman. With no qualms she stabbed her adversary several times, painting the sheets red.

Her sight turned to the small wailing bundle beside her wrapped in ivory linens. She retracted the kitchen knife from the still corpse and grasped it tightly, so tight her knuckles turned white. As her arm raised she was caught by the wrist.

In a single blink, a dark force emerged from the newborn. A dark shadow like figure loomed over her before throwing her to the farthest wall. The knife followed suit lodging into her abdomen.

The blood-curdling shriek caught the attention of the healers who were on their way back with Queen Frigga in tow.

Frigga quickly burst through the door to find the shadow wrapped around Lilithen’s neck.

Loki’s eyes widened shocked by the tale of jealousy, revenge, and bloodshed. His mother had to be embellishing. “How could an infant-”

“Do not underestimate the bond between a mother and child, a child and their seidr. Even with only a few moments of existence, Y/N’s seidr managed to save her. I can only describe it as a materialization of her inner self. Her pain, loss, and mourning permanently embedded with her soul.”

Frigga still remembered the horrified looks of the healers who entered after her to find you soaked in blood, none your own. The dark shadow threatening any who got close to you. Only she was able to get near thanks to a spell.

“I kept you in a deep sleep until I could find a solution. Your seidr was malevolent and unrelenting. I sought help from Vanaheim that resulted in my obtainment of the black hematite around your neck.”

At first, they resisted. Queen Frigga warned of your vengeful consciousness, of the dark magic that acted on its own. They were not keen on having a dark Vanir galavanting with abilities like the one she described. “I was asked to keep you from interacting with darkness. The safest solution was to omit your inner being and have you believe alternate origins.”

You let go of Loki’s hand to fish out the crystal. “I can not recall who warned me against removing the necklace but I find it odd... not once did I question or try to defy the warning.”

“It was not so much a warning than a spell. Small children would never listen to the parents, less so a stranger. I did what was necessary to keep you safe.” The familiar who had raised you was also someone she appointed. A healer who had been present at the time.

All you knew was a lie and perhaps you should have acted differently but that logical mind of yours knew it was all for the best. You had nearly played your own executioner the moment you took it off.

Perhaps now was ideal for you to bring up what had happened to you. “Several weeks ago I removed the crystal. That darkness nearly took my life.”

“Your seidr uniquely takes on a life of its own acting out on your emotions and thoughts. It must be lashing out against being subdued for years and never being called upon. The crystal does not take away your dark powers, it helps subdue them. If you are willing, you can learn to control and will your seidr as all Vanir and Aesir do.”

“How?”

Frigga looked to Loki with a hint of a smile. “I alone taught Loki from a young age. It is a lengthy process to hone your skills but with our combined knowledge I’m sure we can help you.”

-end-

A/N: Note this is way before the movies. This is young Loki okay. This is before he starts hiding his emotions more like in the movies. He has yet to enter a serious relationship.

Tag List: @drakesfiance

[miragerules]

I suppose it is a both good and bad that Tumblr had so many fandoms and Shippers on its site. People find other people who love a show, character or a couple as much as they do, and then they can talk, share fan art/fanfiction, and support one another. That is the good part of Tumblr.

However the unfortunate bad part of Tumblr is this rabbid fandom sometimes leads to blind hate if thing don't go your way on a show or in a film. I am not going to get in all the ways fandoms can be bad. You can just look around on Facebook, Twitter and here on Tumblr.

One way upset fandoms try to destroy a show when a show or ship does not govthe way you want is to blame the writers saying the writing is terrible even though the writing was really good, and has been good if not excellent for 8 seasons. That is apparently what is happening inside the Game of Thrones fandom with fans of certain characters or ships. I am a fan and a shipper. I do ship or have shipped Root/Shaw (Person of Interest), Jason/Elizabeth (General Hospital), Katniss/Peeta (Hunger Games), Geralt/Triss (Witcher games), Bruce/Natasha or Matt Murdock/Natasha (Marvel Films/Marvel Comics) to name a few and I love tones of characters like Tyrion, Jamie, Davros, Arya, and Jon on Game of Thrones.

However I don't let that love of a ship or character ruin my love of a show or film just because said film or series does not go the way I want it to especially if show or film is still good if not excellent like Game of Thrones. One example is Bruce/Nat. Bruce and especially Nats story arcs throughout the Marvel films were not handled that well, but that disappointment does not blind me to how pretty good to great Endgame was and the Marvel films were. As for the Game of Thrones fandom I guess people have not truly read the books or have really watched deeply into each episode of Game of Thrones or cetain Game of Thrones fans would not be complaining nearly as much. Of course I am not happy with everything on Game of Thrones. Many times in season 7 and 8 the writing felt rushed like the writers decided how can they end the show as quickly as possible. HBO could have drawn the series out for a 9th or 10th season to make itva fuller fleshed out experience to reach the point we are, but that complaint does not change the fact the producers, directors, and writers still have consistently done a good job with the series. Do not let you fandom and shipper disappointment blind you to that fact.

Wow I talked for a long time when all I wanted to do was share a link/review by the A.V. Club that does an excellent job of getting into last nights episode of Game of Thrones. Still it felt good venting a little bit.

Any way below is the full review of "The Bells" I copy and pasted from the link above. Hopefully the fans who are blindly bashing last nights episode will have a better understanding of the episode and series in general.

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Westeros faces a disastrous final battle on the penultimate Game of Thrones

By Alex McLevy

Yesterday 9:20pm

Well, this all seems...horrible. 

It’s not that Tyrion’s plan worked, exactly. Jaime didn’t make it to Cersei in time, didn’t give the order to ring the bells and surrender the city. But his hopes nevertheless came to fruition; the soldiers of King’s Landing surrendered, throwing down their swords, the bells rang out, and all was won. Or so it seemed. Immediately thereafter, Daenerys Targaryen ignored the sound of supplication and laid waste to the city, burning innocents by the thousands, bringing half the buildings crumbling to the ground, all while Grey Worm led a bloodthirsty slaughter of the populace, far beyond the soldiers forced to abruptly pick their swords back up and defend themselves. It was cruel, capricious, and wholly avoidable. Varys, sad to say, was right.

GAME OF THRONES SEASON 8

A-

"The Bells"

EPISODE

“Ask not for whom the bell tolls,” goes the famous paraphrasing of John Donne’s sermon. “It tolls for thee.” The bitter truth of this aphorism—that the loss of any life is a loss for all—gets a brutal workout in the aptly named “The Bells,” arguably the best representation of George R.R. Martin’s deconstruction of fantasy tropes we’ve seen in several seasons. The bells of King’s Landing, it turns out, don’t toll for the loss of Cersei’s authority. They toll for the loss of everyone in the city, quite literally. This story began as a way to invert the cliched stereotypes of the hero’s journey, to twist the traditional narrative of swords and sorcery in a radical way and rethink how such epics are delivered. This episode brings that philosophy home. There are no good wars; any battle that begins with hearty cheering should end with somber melancholy; it doesn’t matter who the good guys and bad guys are in the face of death; nobody wants to die; the chaos of war makes villains and victims of us all.

The simplest rejoinder to all of Daenerys’ justifications is that this bloodshed could have been avoided. She was given a moment to choose, and she chose blind vengeance, the kind that eliminates any benevolence she hoped to bring to the seven kingdoms by burning it right out of the minds of anyone who saw her astride Drogon, mowing down men, women, and children with abandon. It gives the lie to her name for this fight, “The Last War.” There will be another, of course—maybe it will be led by the child who watched as her mother’s throat was cut in the streets by the so-called liberators of King’s Landing. Violence begets violence, and the only people still remaining will do the very thing that the living were fighting to preserve during the battle against the Night King: They’ll remember, and keep the memory of this bloodbath alive.

The progression from exhilarating hope to tragic denouement was skillfully executed by director Miguel Sapochnik, demonstrating a much better command of large-scale choreography here than we got to see in “The Long Night.” Honestly, the pivot from “fuck yeah!” (Daenerys laying waste to the Iron Fleet, then blasting the front gate of the city open from the inside, demolishing the lion’s share of the Golden Company in the process) to “Oh, dear god, no” (Dany and Grey Worm laying waste to everything after) was as solid a rug pull as could be hoped for. The build-up to Daenerys’ heel-turn this season hasn’t been as effective as it should have been given the way its foundation was laid during the mess in Meereen in previous seasons, and it was a bit simplistic to see her pin her sole hopes for optimism on the idea that Jon Snow still wanted to get it on with her (really? “Fear it is, then” because your nephew doesn’t have sex with you any more?), but Emilia Clarke sells the desperation. The younger Targaryen feels as though she’s lost any intimacy that tethered her to compassion and humanity, and so all that remains is the imperious need to rule that has driven her all these years, now bereft of the warmth that previously tempered her. When she hands Grey Worm Missandei’s old collar and he tosses it into the fire, Dany’s last thread of empathy burns as well, snuffed out even before Jon rejects her and ends her last-ditch plea for affection.

Varys would hate to have been proven right, but probably not as much as Tyrion hates himself right about now. After the Master Of Whisperers starts composing his written testimony about Jon being the rightful heir to the throne, Tyrion turns on his old friend and offers him up to Dany. It’s unsettling to see the presumable queen’s first assumption be that someone has betrayed her, but it’s even more telling that her first guess as to the betrayer’s identity is Jon. Varys even leans on Jon to assume the Iron Throne, which means he very well knew he wasn’t going to be around much longer, if he’s openly advocating others commit treason as well. But Tyrion can’t let Varys die thinking it was anything but their conversation, admitting to the spymaster that he turned him in. The moment when Tyrion firmly grabs his friend’s arm just before Dany utters the cue for Drogon to burn the eunuch alive is affecting, because it conveys both how much Tyrion cares for his friend, and also how much this is costing him. He’s pinning everything on his new queen, in hopes she’ll do exactly the opposite of what she does. (“I hope I deserve this, I truly do,” Varys even offers.) Whoops. The best of intentions, and all that.

Instead, Tyrion’s last genuine connection turns out to be his final conversation with his brother. Peter Dinklage and Nicolaj Coster-Waldeau have always had good chemistry, and Tyrion springing his brother free in what turns out to be a futile hope of preventing bloodshed and saving his sibling’s life is affecting in a way that Dany and Jon’s exchange lacks. “Cersei once called me the stupidest Lannister,” Jaime admits, and his world-weary resignation pairs well with Tyrion’s frantic hope for keeping his older brother alive. Commanding Jaime to try and escape with Cersei through the underground tunnels in order to escape to Pentos and start a new life—while ringing the bells of surrender on their way out, of course—gives the two one final chance to embrace. Tyrion’s tears contain the symbolic weight of his whole life; he wouldn’t be here if not for Jaime, as he admits, and his last hope is to give the man who risked everything to help him survive the same chance. Tyrion knows it’s a death sentence from Daenerys to betray her in this way, but he no longer cares.

And Jamie’s arc takes him from the heart of our heroes’ campaign to the arms of Cersei Lannister, with a brief stop along the way to put an end to Euron Greyjoy. The gleefully sadistic killer pushes Jaime into a fight, telling him that he slept with Cersei, and after a protracted struggle, even sinks his blade into Jaime’s side. But it turns out that a metal hand can be valuable in battle, after all, and Jaime uses it to help sink his own sword into Euron’s stomach. The irony of the manic Greyjoy’s final thoughts—“I’m the man who killed Jaime Lannister”—isn’t just that no one is around to bear witness. It’s that Jaime doesn’t die by his hand, but rather the crumbling bricks of the Red Keep.

Those final minutes with Cersei and Jaime are strong, mostly for how they upend the expected revelry of seeing one of the show’s true villains get her comeuppance. Stripped of all bravado, Cersei breaks, and shows the very scared, vulnerable woman who has kept her emotions at bay. “I don’t want to die,” she whimpers, “Not like this.” It’s all the more moving for coming from a character who built her identity on steely resolve and contempt for such hoary conceits as fear. The staging of their reunion is superb: Cersei standing on the map she created of Westeros, reeling as the citadel comes falling down around her, while the one man who actually still cares for her helps her sink beneath the surface of the city for a few moments of closeness before death. The odds were never good she was going to survive, but in being buried under the rubble of her failed ambition, she achieves a kind of pathetic grace in her downfall.

But enough pathos. On the opposite end of the emotional spectrum: CLEGANEBOWL! It’s the match the show has been teasing almost from the beginning, and overall, it didn’t disappoint. The Mountain versus the Hound played out entertainingly, with the elder Clegane still outmatching his younger brother pound for pound and blow for blow. Being turned into a walking zombie of sorts didn’t just amplify his strength; it essentially obviated the need to parry blows, as even Sandor sinking his sword deep into his undead brother didn’t seem to slow him down in the slightest. There’s a tense, horrifying moment when it looks like we’re going to get a replay of the Viper’s fate, as the Mountain starts to push his thumbs into Sandor’s eyes, and I cringed, awaiting the head crunch. But Sandor shoves his knife through his brother’s head, and when that doesn’t stop him, he sacrifices himself to kill his sibling, knocking them from the tower and plunging into the blazing fire below. R.I.P., Sandor Clegane and your malevolent brother.

Better still, all that time spent with Arya and Sandor Clegane pays off in an unexpected manner, as the Hound warns the youngest Stark off her single-minded devotion to her kill list. Rather than heading up to kill Cersei, he brings Arya up short with a pointed question: “Do you want to be like me?” In that moment, he reminds her of everything she still has that he doesn’t: Family. Friends. A purpose beyond murderous retribution. He brings her back to a moment akin to her disavowal of the House Of Black And White (“A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I’m going home.”), pushing her to realize she still has reason to live. It’s in keeping with her character: Arya has always been the one to learn lessons where others might stubbornly plunge ahead (and she paid a serious price when she didn’t), employing boldness and caution in equal measure. Clegane gives her one last gift: Cersei is going to die regardless. No reason Arya should die with her.

Besides, Arya had one more, vital role to serve this episode. She becomes the audience stand-in to bear witness to the horrors of war. For those of us who haven’t read A Song Of Ice And Fire, this nonetheless feels like the most vivid display of the philosophy Martin has been playing with since the start. Death, in the early seasons, was always harsh and brutal and often unfair. For the first time in a long time, it was again. Everywhere she turns, Arya sees scared families, dying in awful ways. The woman who helps her survive, pulling her to her feet, dies screaming, holding her daughter as Dany burns them alive. A more evocative demonstration of the cost of the North’s fealty couldn’t be imagined.

Jon, watching the chaos unfold, is in shock. A Stark in spirit if not blood, he comes to the aid of a woman before she’s raped by a fellow soldier, but mostly, he’s struck dumb by the needless violence playing out around him, eventually able to do little more than exhort everyone to fall back and flee the city. Arya, conversely, springs into action on a smaller scale, as she always has. She tries to save people, even if it’s just those who helped her. As the show nicely mirrors the beats of Sandor and Arya’s struggles, cutting between them as if one body, the difference comes in Arya’s moment of aid: the woman’s hand reaching out to pull her up. Arya Stark is saved by a random woman who then dies horribly at the hand of the woman to whom her brother has pledged allegiance.

As she rides a horse out of the city, Game Of Thrones only has one episode remaining, but the hopes of the future ride away with Arya as well. Daenerys has become the person it was believed she wouldn’t be, and both Jon and Arya observe the terrible results of that transformation. By the end, Arya, half-blind and coughing up the dust of the city’s remains (and the remains of the bodies all around her), gets a front row seat to the carnage wrought by Daenerys Targaryen. Riding her dragon and leveling fire at friend and foe alike, regardless of intent, the Mother of Dragons comes across for all the world like a vengeful deity, a god of death reigning down fire upon the world. And what does Arya Stark say to the god of death?

Stray observations

R.I.P. Qyburn. The most loyal confidante of Cersei Lannister receives the ignoble death of being thrown headfirst into rubble by a grouchy Mountain, annoyed at being told to obey his queen.

It’s a gorgeous shot of Tyron entering the city, the camera registering a static image from behind him as he stands in the blown-out rubble of the city wall, watching the devastation unfold.

Again, Sapochnik’s direction was so much more assured and elegant here. His depiction of the spatial geography of King’s Landing was excellent, ably showing the massive distance between where Jon, Davos, and Grey Worm confronted the surrendering soldiers and the Red Keep far in the distance. Touches like that help to convey the scale and layout of the conflict in a more emotionally satisfying manner.

I quite liked Jaime being denied entrance to the Keep as Arya and Sandor passed through just ahead. Forcing him to go all the way around, essentially missing everything and receiving a mortal blow by coincidence from the unexpected appearance of Euron, helped keep a sense of frustrated expectations to the goings-on—sometimes, things just don’t go your way.

Dany’s words to Tyrion turn out to be far too prophetic: “It doesn’t matter now.”

What do you think the favor was that Tyrion asked for from Davos? My first guess was the orchestration of men sneaking into the city to ring the bells, but I’m far from confident about that.

I’m very pleased to report that I have very little clue what’s going to happen in next week’s series finale. I have some guesses about what could happen, but this episode was a refreshing tonic to the sometimes conservative mode of traditional heroics Benioff and Weiss have been dishing up this season.