Crown of Asgard

He had known that he would end up in prison. He had never doubted that he would be apprehended and brought to the gloomy yet stark cells deep within the confines of the palace the moment he returned to Asgard. The heat from the seidr walls was oppressive and, with the seidr cuffs clamped heavily on his wrists, all he could do was pant and watch the guards walk by.

The Aesir leered and taunted, teasing the caged animal, the disgraced and disowned prince, the Jotunn freak. Their faces blended together after a while and he ignored them, watching while aware that he too was being watched. Nothing would happen until Odin called for him. And so he would wait. He could be patient and knew that Odin no doubt planned to test that.

The hot air seared his lungs, whistling in through his open mouth as he stared forward unseeing. His mind strayed, thinking of Jotunnheim and his comfortable little bit of obscurity, called forth from his cavern to strategize and lead only to be allowed to fade away once more. Then he had seen Thor, the gorgeous, glorious Aesir prince challenging Surtur on Midgard and he was reminded of the life he had once led. He had been reminded of his love for the Heir of Asgard, brotherly or not. It’s certainly not now, he noted, closing his eyes as he smiled, phantom traces of the older man’s hands and fingers on his body heating him in the perfect way. 

A soft gasp, stirring the air and setting his ridges firing, made him open his eyes, the memories vanishing. Before him, as beautiful and serene as ever, stood his mother. 

Frigga’s powder blue gown, complete with bronze breast plate, hung from her frame, highlighting her drastic weight loss. Her cheeks, while flushed now, were sunken even as her grey eyes shone with a love that he didn’t feel he deserved - not after what he’d done to Asgard, to her. Guilt lanced through him like a hot knife as he took in her clearly haggard appearance. 

“Thor told me you had returned,” she breathed, still staring at him as if he would vanish once again. A skeletal hand reached towards him only to be withdrawn once it brushed the seidr screen. The golden barrier sparked and the Queen of Asgard hissed, shaking the sting out of her hand. Her eyes began to tear and his guilt crashed over him in a wave. “I can’t believe it,” she breathed, her lips pressing together as they quivered. 

Unable to maintain his composure any longer, he rose and walked to the wall, his own hand wishing to grab the warm, thin fingers of the woman across from him. “I’m so sorry…Mother,” he murmured, allowing his face to fall and his emotions to be revealed for the first time since the cuffs had been placed on his wrists, “I never meant to hurt you.”

Her head shook, revealing tousled and tangled lackluster locks for the first time. “You shouldn’t have been put in that position. You should not have felt the need to run. I am sorry for not fighting for you harder.” Her words applied a balm to a few of his surface scars, knowing that she was not the main source of his current predicament or his anger at the Aesir. “You should have been given your birthright when you came of age, not having to steal it like an unworthy vagabond.”

His already slack jaw shifted to reveal his surprise. While he had thought that the Casket spoke to him in ways that no one else understood, he had never considered the artifact his by right. He was the youngest child of Laufey, abandoned for being too small. Why should the literal heart of the Realm belong to him? His brow furrowed and his gaze dropped to his empty hands. “She sang to me of thousands of past winters, of fruitful springs, of hope and rebuilding and renewal. I fear that is lost to me now. With my shackles, I cannot hear her. In these walls, I cannot feel the Winter.”

His gaze connected with grey eyes, tears trickling from their corners in steady rivers. “I’m sorry,” his mother breathed, her thin hand reaching up once more, hovering above the golden wall of magic. He accepted the gesture with a soft, reassuring smile, and returned it. “None of this is your fault, Mother. I did what I deemed necessary and right. My actions have brought me here.”

Her lips, a fragile pink, parted slightly. “You do not blame Thor for bringing you here? For this cell?”

He shook his head, his smile widening as he flushed, his eyes dropping from his mother’s face. “No. I do not blame Thor. He is…” He exhaled in a sigh. “I love him,” he murmured, his gaze flicking upward to meet Frigga’s kind gaze, “He accepted me as I am - as I was. He would have me rule beside him as his equal and advisor. He wouldn’t force me to bear countless children or any children if I didn’t desire it. He would allow me my freedom…He would allow me to remain myself…”

His mother’s bright smile lit up her entire face and relaxed the rest of her being. The melting tension from her far-too-thin frame made him realize once more that Thor’s words were true: his absence had weighed heavily on the rest of his family. “There is hope, Mother, for all of us. Thor will fight for me - for us. I believe in him,” he grinned, his hand pressing into the barrier. The action smarted and he hissed, pulling his burnt palm back. He grabbed it with his free hand and tried to curl his twingeing fingers inward; the movement was worse than the initial burn. “Norns…”

“Loki…,” his mother murmured, no doubt wanting to comfort him all the more for his stupid injury. 

He shook his head, throwing his hand down in an attempt to pull it from her attention even as it began to throb. “It’s nothing.” He forced a smile on his lips, and queried, “How are you, Mother? How are Balder and Nanna? What has been going on with Asgard?”

_ _ _ _ _

“Tell us of Loki,” Balder beamed, Nanna’s hand gripping his knee tightly. “How does he fare?”

“Well,” Thor  breathed, trying to keep his secretive smile to himself with middling success. “He had truly found peace with himself. It is something that I had never seen before or known I was missing.”

His elder brother and his wife blinked at him expectantly. He was unsure of what they wanted, so he shifted a bit in his seat and tried not to think of Loki, locked in the dungeons, suffering and alone. 

“What was he like - on Jotunnheim?” his advisor asked, his usually calm, brown eyes shining at him brightly with the sheen of unshed tears. Nanna squeezed his knee once more in an attempt at comfort.

There was no chance in hiding his blush as he remembered his beautiful lover wild and untamed among the flakes, or as he lay beside him, his entire lean frame expose on his luxurious bed of furs with his ebony hair a tangled mess about his pillow and twisted about his brow. “Different,” he breathed, unable to hide his smile. “Confident. He was fierce and commanding and respected and…alive. Truly alive.”

“It obviously had an affect on you, too,” Balder pointed out, giving him a knowing smile. “But…Why do I feel like Loki came willingly? We all know that he would never have returned to Asgard if he had the choice.”

The Thunderer shrugged his broad shoulders, unsure of what to say or how to say it. The image of Loki, waking in his arms with that slow smile that he couldn’t get enough of, flashed before his eyes. “Our relationship has changed…we are not brothers, after all…” He stopped, feeling embarrassed. “His Jotunn brothers recognize him as one of Laufey’s sons. Odin has disowned him.”

Nanna’s smile broadened, knowingly. “You love him,” she murmured, breaking her usual quiet confidence to state the obvious. Her lips twitched into a knowing smile, her hand squeezing her husbands knee fiercely with joy. “He loves you.”

He nodded, smiling broadly, well aware of the fact that his face matched his cloak. “I have to save him.”

“No,” Balder stated, leaning forward conspiratorially with a smirk on his face that their youngest sibling would be proud of, “We have to save him.”

_ _ _ _ _

“At last, the All-Father has come to see his disappointing foster, the monster he had tried to tame,” he intoned, his back turned to the seidr wall as the Aesir king approached. He drew himself up, trying to appear confident and unafraid, knowing that Odin Borson bore him no love. Inhaling deeply, he turned, chin raised haughtily. “Is this how you treat all the princes who visit your halls?”

The old man looked smaller than he ever had, weariness weighing heavily on his squared shoulders. His single eye, though, was piercing and true as always. Gungnir shone at his side, raised and ready. “Where is the Casket, Laufeyson?”

Loki cocked his head to the left, his eyes narrowing. “No greeting? No honeyed words for your forgotten child?”

Odin’s nostrils flared, his jaw setting. “I care not for you, Jotunn. The only reason I have not executed you is because you have stolen something that belongs to me and I want it back.”

“I see,” he said, tasting the two words as they passed his lips, a true, terrible hurt settling in his stomach. It wasn’t that he had hoped for a reconciliation or forgiveness, he had known that Odin would never forgive him. What he had longed for was recognition, something from the old man that betrayed their centuries together as family. He realized now that it was foolish on his part to think it would happen. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, All-Father, but the Casket is out of your reach and mine.” 

He raised his cuffed wrists in front of his face and clinked them together emphatically. Lowering them, he cocked an eyebrow at the ruler of the Aesir. His lip twisted into a smirk as he watched Odin’s face glower into a rather startling shade of scarlet. “What a conundrum we find ourselves in, Odin Borson,” he stated, a sense of accomplishment flooding his core. He realize that he was making more trouble for himself, but he didn’t care. Right now, he had won. 

Turning his back to the seidr wall once more, he dismissed the man that had raised him. “Come back when you’re willing to talk, All-Father. Until then, consider your words wisely.”

He stood, ignoring the blistering heat as best as he was able, and waited. He was not going to give the King of Asgard the satisfaction of seeing his face again until he was willing to see that the Jotunn were not a threat, that they had been growing into powerful allies for the other realms, that they wanted to been seen as valued members of the Nine and not as it’s cold-hearted villains.

After what had turned into a quiet standing reflection, his vigil was interrupted by the arrival of his meal and the one break in the seidr wall that he would receive for the next twelve hours. He sighed at the cool burst of air that wished past his ridges, pushing the heat away for a few blessed moments. 

It’s not stopping, he realized, his eyes flying open and reality snapping back into focus. Spinning on his heel, he released an unbidden gasp. 

Standing before him, pink lips drawn up like a bow, was his beloved sister-in-law. “Hello, Brother,” she grinned, her arms pressed outward, holding the wall at bay. “A little bird told me that a prince was in need of rescuing. Know who it could be?”

He laughed, striding forward and stopping directly in front of the Vanir. Her cheeks were flushed in a faint pink shade, highlighting the rich depth of her hair and her twinkling eyes. “Thank you, Nanna,” he breathed before looking over her head and down the hallway. “Where are the guards?”

The woman’s thin shoulders shrugged even as her arms began to shake. “My husband has his uses. He has called for a meeting of the Guard but even he cannot keep them busy for long.”

Taking the hint, he slipped from his cell and into the cool air of the passage. “My thanks to the two of you,” he stated, giving the small woman a salute as she dropped the seidr wall back in place. “But where in Odin’s Beard are you planning on hiding a Jotunn runt among the Aesir?”

She grinned, his quiet partner in crime allowing a bit of her own mischief show. “Follow me and you’ll find out.”

_ _ _ _ _

He knew that it was done when Nanna sat beside him at dinner, gripping his knee beneath the table. He smiled at her, asking after her day. Loki, the god of Mischief incarnate, would have been proud of the web of white lies that danced off her tongue. Realizing their situation was precarious and his father was within earshot, he turned to Balder, wanting to hear what he had discussed with the guards. After all, it would only be a matter of time before Loki’s cell was discovered to be empty. His elder brother was a powerful sorcerer but no where near powerful to sustain a doppleganger for any true length of time. That was one of Loki’s areas of expertise and nothing could be done about that until his cuffs were broken. 

If they could be broken…

Dinner dragged out and he waited on baited breath for the alarm to be sounded. As he ate, he slipped little things from his plate, aware that only four people knew where Loki was and that he was not being sent food. He tried to keep the food stuffs varied: a bit of meat as rare as he could manage, one of Idun’s golden apples, a warm and buttered slice of bread, some scraps of slightly underdone potatoes. Every little bit would be appreciated because Norns knew that, in his six days in the dungeons, his lover had not been fed well.

As he was smuggling a small bite of chocolate torte into his now bulging coat pocket, a frightened guard approached the high table. The Einherjar, in his glinting armor, knelt, pressing his hand over his heart before rising and leaning over the table to murmur to his father. While he could not hear what the man was saying, he could observe Odin’s anger growing. His hands, worn and gnarled, curled into fists and his lips drew into a thin, pale line. “What?!” his voice hissed, forcing its way out of his body in a tidal wave. 

The guard, a young, newly promoted Einherjar rose, blinking and shaking before the All-Father’s growing wrath. “I know not, Your Majesty. He was there at last watch-”

“Search for him! We cannot let him wander free! He has the Casket! With it, the Jotunn will rise to conquer the Realms again!”

The All-Father was shouting at the poor boy, making the massive hall stop to listen by the time the crisis had been revealed and his brother was condemned once more. 

“Father-” He tried to intervene, rising with his arms outstretched. 

One piercing eye bored into him, displeasure growing as the man glared at him. “Find. Him. Bring. Him. Back.”

He bowed his head. “As you wish, Father,” he muttered, his fist pressing over his heart. As he turned to leave, he patted Balder on the shoulder. His second rose and followed, pulling even with him after a few strides. 

“I’m sorry, Brother,” his older sibling murmured as they left the Great Hall, dodging the already searching teams as they headed for the dungeons. “I’d hoped that they wouldn’t notice until tomorrow.”

He shook his head, his jaw set. There was nothing they could do now but make it look like they were searching for a fugitive Frost Giant who, if he had actually escaped prison on his own, would have used one of his hidden pathways and escaped the realm without an issue. Even with his seidr bound. 

His seidr is bound… The thought sent a rush of fear through him as he realized that Loki, while not completely defenseless, was significantly hampered without his magic. “Check the Weapons Vault,” he commanded his elder sibling, gesturing to the massive gilded doors as they passed. “He’s stolen one relic already; he may be interested in another.”

Balder gave him a nod, moving off to pursue that dead end without question. From there, he would search the armory and the barracks. Each one would prove empty and undisturbed.

His own feet led him towards the stables and the grounds where he would find nothing. All to create a spectacle for Father until Loki can be free.

_ _ _ _ _

He’d heard the alarm blare and known that his escape was discovered. He had turned the room, one reserved for foreign dignitaries, back to rights as quickly as he had been able, snuffing out and hiding used candles, straightening cushions, and drawing drapes. Then, feeling like a child, he had slipped beneath the bed. 

After several tense minutes, his sharp hearing picked up on the thunder of feet down the marble floor of the hall in which he hid. The booted feet, moving at a clipped pausing at regular intervals, could only have belonged to the Einherjar. They drew closer, heavy doors of varying woods banging open like the sharp backing of ice over a frozen lake. He counted them, closing his eyes and breathing as their search drew nearer. 

Five, four, three, two, one…

His door flew back on its hinges, slamming into the wall behind it. A heavy but rapid tread raced through the room and into the gilded bathing chamber, everything flickering in torch light. He held his breath as the guard reemerged, fearing that he would perform a more thorough check than a cursory glance. 

“Not here,” the man’s deep, disgruntled voice stated, calling out into the reverberating hallway beyond. With practiced steps, the soldier moved out of his rooms and slammed the door shut behind him.

Loki released a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding, slumping heavily against the cool, slightly dusty, marble floor of the chamber. He realized that it would not be the last time the chamber was check that night. I have to be more careful, he reasoned, allowing his body to drain the tension it carried for the time being and allowing an uneasy, uncomfortable sleep to take him.

_ _ _ _ _

It was nearing the darkest hour of the night when he finally felt free of enough suspicion to excuse himself from the search. As he’d told Tyr, if they hadn’t found Loki yet, he was long gone. The general nodded, knowing that he spoke the truth. Even without the Casket, Loki knew the secret paths between realms and could have escaped easily.

He trudged down the hall, his feet dragging and his limbs feeling leaden. His pockets still bulged with the food he had stolen, long gone mushy and cold. It’s the thought that counts, he reasoned as he turned the knob on the second to last door on the right and entered the room. Loki, no doubt, was long asleep.

“I wondered when you’d deem it safe enough for you to come,” Loki’s rich baritone purred from the darkness.

He swiveled his head, searching for his lover with little success. “I’ve come with food. It’s probably not great but-”

“Good,” remarked the voice, matter-of-factly, “I am starving.”

Cool hands wrapped around his torso and brought him in for a blistering kiss. His hands, able to ‘see’ when his eyes couldn’t, roved over Loki’s bare torso, teasing the lines that he’d found there. Cool breath, shortly followed by an icy cheek and a wild tangle of hair, played across his left shoulder. 

After a brief moment, his not-brother extricated himself and moved back. Or, at least he thought he did because he still couldn’t really see. “Could we get some light in here?” he asked, his hands reaching out in front of him as he took a hesitant step forward. “No one else will be coming down this hallway…”

A match was struck, illuminating Loki’s bloodstained eyes for a moment before it was applied to a candlewick. “Apologies,” the Jotunn smiled, his sharp teeth flashing in the flickering light, “I can see perfectly, I often forget the shortcomings of the Aesir.”

Another candle was applied to the already flickering taper and placed on another end table. The light from the little flames added a warm glow to the room and helped him see, which was an added bonus. 

“Wow,” he breathed, “You move quickly.”

Loki continued to smile at him, taking a seat beside one of his end tables, the crushed food from his pockets placed there in disjointed clumps. A finely boned hand reach out and grabbed a potato smeared slice of venison and popped it into his cavernous mouth. “Not bad,” his lover muttered, licking one of his fingers with a pop, “A bit overdone, but not surprising.” The Jotunn beamed at him. “Thank you, Thor. You’re too kind.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he took a seat across from the lean, azure Jotunn. “I’m sure it would have been better if it had’t spent several hours crammed into my pockets…How did you get it out?”

An ebony eyebrow cocked as a bit of carrot was placed into the blue mouth. “I’m the Trickster God,” the younger being replied, smirking as the nearly raw vegetable crunched between his powerful jaws. “I wouldn’t be able to lay claim to that title if I couldn’t pick a pocket.”

“True,” he replied, taking in every beautiful inch of the man across from him. 

The Jotunn looked back, still smiling that secretive smile that only he could elicit for a brief, b blessed moment before the younger being’s face fell. “We can’t do this, Thor,” he breathed, shaking his head before brushing his thick hair from his brow. “I need to go back to the cell. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he smirked in reply. “That could be arranged. But only after tonight.”

“Of course.”

Loki rose languidly, tossing a bit of his hair over his shoulder and moving over to him, his hips swinging suggestively. Unable to stop himself, he rose and swept the lean man’s body into his arms. His hands danced over the silvery ridges along his sides as his lips traced the ridges that carved across his chiseled jaw. 

“Thor,” the blue being murmured as his clawed fingers wound into his hair and pulled him closer, “Please. I want to be with you tonight. Take me to bed.”

That was all he needed to hear. Carefully, his hands slid down to grasp well-muscled thighs and lifted. Those long legs wrapped around his trim waist and tightened like a barnacle to the bottom of a boat, never to let go.

_ _ _ _ _

“This is disgusting! Get up!”

He was abruptly woken from a very peaceful slumber in his lover’s warm, muscular arms by a loud scream and two pairs of hot hands tugging him from the soft mattress he had been sleeping on. His naked frame was slammed against the cold marble and he released a pained roar as his knees and ribs were inevitably bruised. An armored knee was pressed into the middle of his back, the sharp edges digging painfully into his spine. 

“Let him go!” Thor screamed. The sound broke his heart and he struggled beneath the larger man on top of him until his arm was nearly wrenched from its socket. Still the struggle allowed his head to turn enough to reveal that Thor was being held between three warriors in golden armor, his own arms wrenched into uncomfortable positions. 

The All-Father glowered at the pair of them, his single eyes darting between his two youngest children - or at least between his heir and the Jotunn traitor he had raised. “Disgusting,” the man spat, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at him. “I had thought that what General Tyr suspected couldn’t be true.” The eye left his face to look at Thor’s, which was flushing a rather brilliant shade of red, and not because he was standing naked before his king. Thor had always been a bit of a show-off when it came to his obscenely perfect body. 

“And yet,” Odin continued, his voice low and dangerous, “I see that it is. How could you do this to me, Thor? You are supposed to be the pinnacle of the Aesir!The Perfect Son! And yet, I find you here, wrapped in the arms of traitorous, Jotunn scum!”

“Father, I-”

“It was me!” he shouted, forcing what little air was left in his lungs out into the chamber, his ragged voice bouncing off the marble and making his ears smart. He gulped in as much air as he could, feeling very much like a landed fish, before he continued, well aware that all eyes were on him. “I did this. Thor is innocent. I thought that, if I seduced him, I could bring Asgard to its knees! I could take the throne promised me in my youth! I could rule-”

A gauntlet covered fist smashed into the side of his face, bouncing his head off the marble, cracking the stone and making his ears ring and his teeth rattle. His jaw and cheek blared with excruciating pain making him think that they had been broken. 

“Shut up, Monster!” his guard hissed in his ear, barely audible above the ringing before his face was smashed back into the floor, intensifying the pain to the point of near blackout.

Unable to do anything else, he lay there, his breath whistling from his slack mouth and waiting for the ringing in his ears to die down. 

“…will be dealt with accordingly,” Odin was commanding, his voice firm and unyielding, no semblance of fatherly affection in its depths. The man looked at the guards and gestured them back. “Leave us.”

Instantly, he could breathe, sucking lungfuls of air rapidly and in gulps. Thor rushed to his side, rubbing his exposed back in large, calming circles. 

“Father. Please,” his lover begged, his voice pleading and soft. “Loki is here to wed me, to bring peace to our realms-”

Odin’s face hardened further, his nostrils flaring. “Thor. My son. My Heir. You are deluded and seduced by this beast! You shall go from this place - as you are - to the training yard. Command Skurge to give you one hundred lashes and not to stop until he is done. I care not if you pass out. I care not if you are flayed to the bone. One hundred. Surely then this witch’s hold over you will be broken and my son will be mine once more.” 

“Never,” Thor hissed before coughing, no doubt hit in the gut. 

“Away and see it done,” the All-Father commanded, leveling Gugnir at his once-brother’s chest and banished him to the training yard. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt icy tears fall, fear for his lover overwhelming him even as he knew that he could do little else.

“As for you…disgrace,” the King of Asgard sighed, “You will be banished, never to return to Asgard. Jotunnheim shall be brought to heel and the Casket will be relinquished. Enjoy your torture.”

_ _ _ _ _

The crack of the whip sliced through the early morning air followed by a pained grunt. 

What is going on? she queried, shocked at the noise. There was no corporeal punishment scheduled for today. Her heart was clutched in a vice, squeezing itself as she replied what her husband was doing. “Loki,” she breathed, rising from her loom and gathering her skirts about her. She needed to move quickly if she was to put an end to this injustice. 

Her lightly slippered feet slapped harshly on the marble as her strides ate the ground. The rising sun, painted the sky pink as it nearly blinded her with its brilliance. Staggering a bit, she continued on, her path laid before her as she hurried down the grassy knoll towards the barracks and the training yard. 

The hiss of the whip and the harsh cried continued, each one tearing into her very soul. Blinking back burning tears, she paused at the fence, shocked. 

“Thor?!” 

Her voice came out as a choke. 

Before her, chained to the pillar in the middle of the red clay, was her true child. His back was a maze of bleeding lines, his body slumped from his shackled wrists, his knees too weak to support him any more. He was naked, thought the pole covered his modesty for the moment, and some welts rose over the backs of his muscular thighs and pert buttocks. Her husband, the man that she had loved more than anything, watched impassively, his arms folded over his chest. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she cried, rushing forward as the cat of nine tails sang again. She grabbed Odin’s shoulder, spinning him to face her. 

“Thirty-nine,” her king intoned, his single eye sharp and predatory. “Justice, my Dear. Justice is what is happening here.”

“What has Thor done?” she breathed, her voice shaking as the whip cracked across bleeding flesh once more.

“Forty,” Odin stated, his voice almost mechanical. “He was found, in bed, with the Traitor. He must be punished for the good of Asgard.”

“Why?” she begged, her own knees weakening. This is my fault! I freed Loki!

“He must learn that Asgard does not forgive traitors, much less bed them. Forty-one.” The old man with the hardened heart didn’t even blink as their son shouted once more.

“Do not do this, Husband,” she insisted emphatically. “I freed Loki. Not Thor. Release him. If someone should be punished it should be me!”

“Forty-two,” the Warrior King counted, his attention returned to the bloody mess of flesh that had once been Thor’s perfect back. 

Unable to get through to her husband, she pushed him aside and ran towards her son’s harasser. Unsure of what else to do, she threw herself onto his back. The executioner quickly threw her off, his whip falling again without losing a beat. 

“Father!” 

She turned, almost relieved to see Balder and Nanna flying down the hill, shock written across their faces. 

This time, Odin turned from Thor and his torture, an eyebrow cocked at his son and daughter-in-law. “Stay back. You have no say in this.”

“Mother!” her husband’s first son moved to her side, his eyes wide and frightened, “What is happening!”

Thor shouted once more, his voice losing its force. He’s losing consciousness. “Your Father found your brothers in bed together. He sees this as a shameful, traitorous act instead of a way to mend the rift between our realms.”

“This is insanity,” Balder stated as the whip fell again. 

Thor moaned. 

She looked over at her abused child to see him literally hanging limply from his arms. His head, complete with sweaty, blood-matted hair, lolled forward. “Norns,” she hissed, reaching towards his beaten frame. Her hand trembled as the whip tore, having removed all of his skin from his back, through the top layer of muscle. 

She spun back towards her husband, falling to her knees on the clay. Her two children knelt as well, their hands thrust forward plaintively. 

“Odin! Stay this madness!” she cried, her sentiment echoed by Balder and his wife. Their words fell on deaf ears as the whippings continued. “Please!”

“Fifty,” the All-Father intoned pointedly.

“Surely, that is enough!” she screamed, each scream of the whip slicing deeper into her heart. “Surely!”

The other man remained unhearing, watching as his son - his heir - was whipped into a pile of bloody flesh. 

_ _ _ _ _

He closed his eyes, panting through his mouth even as every drop of moisture had been wicked from his body. If he dreamed hard enough, he could imagine that he was just being overheated by Thor’s arms. It was as far from true as he could imagine, but it was better than his reality. He could barely open his eyes without being overwhelmed by the blinding sun that beat down on him. 

He struggled weakly against the heat, trying not to curse Odin and his terrible vendetta against him and his true people. He tried not to think about Helblindi and the assault of Einherjar that was raining down on his defenseless people and how the Jotunn would be completely blindsided  by the attack. He tried not to think of Byleistr, pregnant and unable to protect his little family including his soon-to-be eldest child, Ulfr. Norns, protect my family, he pleaded as his breath rattled in his ribcage. 

Opening his eyes, (Well, eye, seeing as the other was swollen shut from being beaten into the floor) he squinted at his surroundings. He knew that he was on Muspelheim and he was sure that it was deliberate. After all, what better way to torture a Frost Giant than by putting him, seidr-bound, on a planet that was solely lava and volcanic ash. He knew that his jaw was broken and his pain in his face was beginning to escalate and build for reasons he couldn’t understand. He was going to die, and he was nearly at peace with that, but he knew that it was not going to be a pretty end. Already, his vision was spotted and his lungs felt on the verge of collapse. He couldn’t find water anywhere, much less a food source, and the metal restraints on his wrist kept him from transfiguring anything that surrounded him. His panting increased, and he closed his eyes, giving up as he turned his head to the uninjured side, his jaw wagging painfully. The hot sun against his bruised cheek was excruciating but he couldn’t struggle any more. 

It was too hard. 

_ _ _ _ _

The ebony portal that snapped into existence on the red clay sent a ripple of shock through their little huddled mass. Even Odin had looked affronted by the sudden intrusion. 

From the crackling black mass emerged the one person in the Nine Realms that could put an end to this atrocity. The only person who could challenge the will of the All-Father: the Queen of the Damned and the unworthy Dead.

“Hela,” Balder breathed beside her, rising to give his sister a bow, his fist pressed over his heart. Nanna quickly followed suit, trembling before the sister-in-law she had heard of but never met. 

Feeling lost and shocked, it took her a minute to rise to a respectful curtsey. “Queen Hela,” she breathed, her voice soft and quivering, “Please…”

The woman, her face stern and her frame powerful, strode towards her younger, half-brother’s immobile, ruined body. “I did not believe it when I felt the stirring of the essence of the Thunderer among those of my realm, and now, I see that it is true.”

“What?” Frigga breathed, her voice inaudible. She could not fathom the Queen of the Dead’s words. Her beautiful golden boy could not be dead. She would not believe that. 

Her adopted daughter turned to look at her. “Not yet, Frigga,” she stated, her voice low and even, calm despite the situation, “But nearly there.”

The whip sang through the air once more only to be caught in Hela’s hand. “That is enough,” she said firmly, tearing the device from Skurge’s grip as if he were a child. 

Her husband glowered at his eldest child, stalking towards her with purposeful strides. “You have no right to do this, Hela!” he snapped, his voice as sharp as the whip his executioner had wielded. “Asgard is my kingdom! My realm! You have no say in what happens here. Thor needs to be purged of the spell the Jotunn runt has placed him under! This is a just punishment!” 

Even as the old man’s voice rose to ear-shattering levels, Hela did not budge. She blinked at him, her emerald eyes shining as her seidr played over her fingers almost lackadaisically. As Odin’s fervor died, she asked, “Are you done, Father? Have you finally lost all reason? Do you not see that Thor - your son and chosen heir - is dying because he simply fell in love with someone that you do not approve of?” She eyed Balder, silently asking who her little brother had fallen for.

It was Nanna who replied softly, “Loki, Prince of Jotunnheim. Lost Son of Asgard.”

Hela cocked an eyebrow, looking so like her youngest child that her heart seized once more. A terrible thought struck her. I have been so consumed with this fresh Hel bestowed upon Thor that I do not know if Loki even lives! 

“Loki,” Odin’s eldest child smirked, shaking her head back and forth humorously as she chuckled, “That Trickster.” 

Her long, leather-clad legs strode to her golden brother’s side and yanked his chains free from the pole with one swift motion. His abused body fell limply to the red clay with a thud, his wounds filling with the fine dust. Hela knelt, pressing her fingers to his neck, feeling for his pulse. “He still lives and should, if he receives proper medical attention. Now.” She shot her true sibling a quick glance, sending Balder into action, rushing to Thor’s barely breathing and immobile side, his weak seidr sparking at his fingertips. Nanna, understanding the urgency of the situation, turned and raced towards the palace, gathering her skirts in her hands as she ran.

The Goddess of Death languidly rose and glared at Odin who continued to glower back. “As for you, Father, heed my counsel.” She took a step closer, and then another, as if for emphasis. “If this continues - if you continue to squander the good things before you - I will not withhold the breaking of Hel upon Asgard. Thor, with his open mind and his true, feeling heart, is better for Asgard now and in the future. He will bring true peace to the Nine Realms while you bring destruction and watch it burn, calling it justice. Beware: for only ill will come with your continued reign.”

With that, her not-daughter stepped forward once more and disappeared in the shimmering black portal the opened for her, mid-stride. As the black seidr collapsed in on itself, Odin Borson crumbled to the red earth, limp as a rag doll. The Einherjar raced to his side but she couldn’t make herself move, her eyes transfixed on Gungnir as it, too, tumbled into the dirt.

_ _ _ _ _

He woke, blinking at the warm light of the window beside him. It was open, allowing the summer breeze to creep through the white curtains. He inhaled, enjoying the scent of the flowers that drifted in from his mother’s gardens. The action caused sharp shoots of pain to lance down his back. He groaned the inhale out, trying to help his pain.

“Remain still, my Prince.” The calming voice of Eir was followed by the woman’s frame coming into his line of vision. “You are healing and should, with luck, make a full recovery. But only if you don’t move too much right now.”

“When did I pass out?” he asked, shame rushing through him as he realized that he couldn't remember much of his ordeal beyond the pain. 

“I know not, my Prince, but Queen Hela ended your ordeal before one hundred lashes were achieved, which, probably saved your life.” The woman began to apply her seidr to his back, allowing him to feel the extent of his injuries. 

Something struck his sluggish mind as the woman moved slowly and meticulously across his back, crushing healing stones as she went. “My sister was here?”

“Yes, my Prince,” the Healer intoned, her voice even. “And, with the All-Father’s sudden fall into the Odinsleep, your Mother has become Regent. She has ended all torture and has begun to right some of the All-Father’s decreed wrongs.”

He sucked in a pained breath, surprised at his father’s sudden weakness. But, with Father sleeping, I can solidify peace with Jotunnheim. I can wed Loki as I intended…Another thought struck him forcefully. “What of Loki?” he breathed, fearing the worst.

Eir shook her head. “Frigga has commanded the Einherjar to scour the Nine in search of him but he has yet to be found.”

Fear gripped his heart, making his worry increase. “Norns,” he hissed, even as the woman’s attentions on his back eased, making his healing skin tingle. The cooling sensation was comforting, making him think of Loki and his icy constitution. 

A thought struck him and he leaned up on his elbows. The action hurt, pain lancing through him and he collapsed back down onto his front. Eir’s heading touch returned and the woman clucked, her handwork no doubt ruined in his rash attempt to rise.

“You are not well, my Prince,” she breathed, her voice reprimanding but low. 

He grunted his acknowledgement before mumbling, “Odin must have banished Loki to Muspelheim. If I were made of ice, he’d have sent me there, too.”

_____

He was dying, of that he was certain. Every bone in his body felt like rubber, slowly melting in the intense heat of the Demon’s Realm. He had given up on finding shelter or water well over two days ago, content to simply lie down beneath the smog-filled sky and let the elements take him. He had tasted happiness and significance and he could not say that he regretted anything that had led him to his current situation. 

The smog rolled by in thick, black wisps breaking up the orange sky even as it was punctuated with flashes a magma as it leapt into the sky. It was beautiful in a terrifying way. Not a bad view…at the end of the worlds…

His breath wheezed from his ribcage, rattling as it burned. But, since he was afire, how else would he breathe? His slitted eyes watched the light in the sky boom before fading back to its usual terrible shade, unsure of why the sky would begin to play tricks. But what else would it do, as I lay dying?

“Loki?” 

The call was feminine and far away, distant and beckoning. The feminine voice sounded like his beloved sister, the Mistress Death as she was now called, begging him to come to her. To live in the dark cool of the Realm of Hel. It had been centuries since he had seen her and, his lips cracked as they pulled into a smile, he missed her. She had always looked out for him, teaching him seidr and accepting his oddities as Thor and, to some extent, Balder, would not. 

“Loki!?” 

The voice grew harsher as it traveled, echoing off the rough rock that surrounded him. It sounded less of Hela now and more of a man that he once knew. One of his companions, maybe? Fandral or Volstagg. Norns knew that Hogun barely rose above a whisper when he dared utter a syllable at all. 

He exhaled, his squinted eyes closing against the heat and the light. Now I’m hallucinating the sound of voices. The end must be nigh. He exhaled once more, feeling the air in his lungs scrape against the sensitive tissue there. It was a terrible feeling for the end of one’s life but he didn’t have much choice there. Damn Odin to Hel. The man certainly knew how to kill his unwanted pest of an ex-child in the most painful way possible. 

“Loki!”

The light, female voice shrieked once more as he slipped out of consciousness, allowing the blackness to claim him. 

_ _ _ _ _

“Loki?” he breathed, his back still smarting as he woke to Eir’s gentle, healing touch along his spine. 

Eir’s hands stilled and the goddess knelt beside him, allowing him to see her kind face. “He is here. Found by the Warriors Three and Lady Sif on Muspelheim, as you suspected. Allow me to show you, my Prince,” she smiled softly, her professional aloofness disappearing for a brief moment. Her warm hands gently raise his head and turned it to his other side, setting his very musculature on fire with blinding pain. 

When his sight cleared, he found that he had a very different view on this side of his sickbed. Beside him, the next Soul Forge over, lay a deeply purple, nearly black figure surrounded by blocks of ice. Usually thin limbs were swollen, the joints almost painfully so, and the face was bloated and covered in a shiny navy substance. Blood, he realized, even as he watched the bare chest rise and fall in distinct and jerky hitched motion. Something seemed to be thrust from the Jotunn’s head (the source of some of the blood, no doubt) and his hands looked mangled. “Loki.”

“He will recover, in time,” the Goddess of Healing stated. “Extreme heat can cause irreversible damage to a Jotunn’s interior organs and tissues. I need to check for that but the swelling needs to go down first.”

“How long?” he asked, resisting the urge to rise and rush to his lover’s abused side, his own back pulling and throbbing at the slightest movement. 

“He was brought here a couple of hours ago, my Prince,” the woman stated, running her hands over a patch of burned skin on Loki’s shoulder, knitting it back together slowly and with care before returning her attentions to his own back. He hissed, feeling his muscles knit themselves back together, one fiber at a time. “It took the Warriors Four some time to find him. Muspelheim is not a small realm and he had tried his best to hide from the Demons. He was half hidden beneath a ledge.”

“Has he woken?” he breathed, each syllable hurt, his throat still raw from the abuse he had wrought upon it days ago. 

The woman shook her golden locks, her eyes trained on his shoulder as her hands worked there. “He is in a seidr-induced coma, for his own health and safety. I will wake him once I am able to get the swelling down and I can get a good look at the internal damage.”

“When will that be?” he asked, trying to keep talking to keep his mind off of the blistering pain that was dancing across his shoulder blades. 

The pain intensified before he heard Eir’s response. “That will be up to Prince Loki, my Lord.”

“He seems physically changed, Eir,” he breathed, his eyes still looking at the prominences that had appeared on the azure brow. “How?”

The woman shook her head. “I know not, my Prince. It could be an adverse reaction to the extreme heat of Muspelheim. It could be part of the All-Father’s punishment. All I know is that I cannot see a way of undoing it.”

_ _ _ _ _

He was grateful that his back had healed without any permanent damage or scarring after a week of constant vigilance on the Healer’s part. While his vanity at his looks was not something that he valued too highly, extensive scarring could have impeded his range of motion and thus his ability to protect and defend his family and his people. Eir was a miracle worker and he owed the woman a debt.

Especially when she continued to tend to his lover as if he wasn’t Jotunn and as if he wasn’t deemed a traitor by the slumbering All-Father. His admiration grew when he had discovered that she had removed the seidr-suppressing cuffs from Loki’s wrists, uncaring to why they were there in the first place, to allow Loki’s own healing abilities to work in his favor.

He watched the woman as she bent to the thankfully less swollen and less purple being, his hands twitching in is lap. Loki continued to sleep as the Head Healer pulled up the Soul Forge, examining his internal organs. Several of them looked enflamed, bright, bloody red against the gold outline and pale cobalt lines, no doubt filled with the icy seidr that cooled his body. He watched the healer’s brow furrow as she pressed her hands onto Loki’s chest, where his breath still hitched in and out.  The woman hummed while she worked, her silver seidr trickling into the Jotunn, healing his hurts as carefully as if he were still Odin’s son.

“How does he fare?” the Thunderer breathed, reaching out and taking one of Loki’s hands, still twisted and gnarled like the branches of a crab apple tree, in his. The skin was almost smooth, having peeled a few days ago, stealing most of his weapon callouses, and was cooler to the touch. The fingers were still a bit swollen but had thinned over the last few days as the horrid purple had retreated, even if they were no longer elegant and lithe. 

The woman ignored his question for the moment, her brow still furrowed tightly. He continued to watch her work, finding the paths of her seidr above her reflected in the Soul Forge soothing. He watched as Loki’s lungs, containing bits of darkness, cleared, making the sleeping Jotunn cough. Eir quickly turned his head, spilling thick clots of navy blood across the ice, melting it. 

The older woman looked at the spillage briefly before looking up at the Soul Forge. “He shall fare better now that his lungs are clearing,” she intoned, wisely. “Hopefully, they will continue to clear as there is still much that he needs to overcome before he will be well.”

He nodded, standing and bending over Loki’s prone form. He took the corner of his fine, damask tunic and wiped the blood from the thin lips that he longed to kiss. As the azure skin was cleaned by his gentle ministrations, he did what his heart bid and pressed a firm but tender kiss to the unmoving lips. “I will wait for you, Loki. Forever, if I must,” he breathed, before pressing another kiss to the cool skin.

_ _ _ _ _

Everything felt heavy and warm but not scorching as his banishment had been. His fingers twitched, sending spasms of pain through his hand. He sucked in a pained breath, his body wracking through the action. Another, comforting warmth quickly covered his jerking phalanges. 

“Darling Loki,” the tender baritone of his not-brother breathed, “Stay calm. You’re safe but you’re still recovering.”

He opened his eyes, feeling as if he were peeling back mountains. His breath became labored, the action jerky and the air too warm, but it was worth all the effort to see the worried, azure eyes of Thor Odinson for a brief instant once more. “Th-thor,” he moaned, his thin lips feeling bloated as he tried to smile. He was sure the action was more of a grimace than anything else. 

“Yes,” the sometimes thick man grinned brightly, “It’s me. It’s Thor.” 

He was able to roll his eyes halfway before he had to blink them exhaustedly. “You…are stuh-still stating…the…obvious,” he muttered, his tongue feeling like a block of wood between his every less mobile teeth. 

The Thunderer chuckled, his hand squeezing his hand that couldn’t seem to work. His tired eyes left the cheery Aesir’s face and looked down his body. He sucked in a pained breath as he saw the shaved ice and cubes piled high, obscuring his figure. 

Thor, sensing his thoughts as only he could, quietly stated, “You’re still recovering from the heat. Eir believes that raw ice is the most effective way that we currently have to keep you cool.”

He nodded, each vertebrae creaking with the motion. “Ah-are the…kuh-cuffs gone?” he asked, unable to see his hands over the ice. “I-I have…the…Kuh-Casket.”

“I know.” The hand squeezed his once more. “But you and I both know that you need to recover more before you retrieve it.”

He sighed, knowing that Thor was right. He closed his eyes, feeling beyond exhausted at the brief exchange, and slipped once more into sleep. 

When he woke later, he felt slightly less exhausted. His body had recovered, no doubt due to Eir’s healing seidr and he felt less over heated than he had since setting foot back on Asgard. He rolled his eyelids back to see that the ice was no longer covering his frame in a mound but was pressed up against his sides instead. He noted that he had lost weight, which was not surprising, and all of the swelling that he had felt at his first waking had retreated to a general stiffness from lack of motion and a slight bloating about his abdomen and joints. His skin was no longer burnt, but retained a deeper cobalt shade than he was used to, still recovering but not terribly damaged. 

Slowly, he turned his stiff head, to find Thor snoring lightly in the chair beside him, his bearded chin on his chest. Loki’s lips twitched into a soft smile at the sight, his heart swelling even as he felt his lips crack. He was blessed by the Norns to have Thor even if their relationship had shifted drastically in recent months. He had loved the man as a child, idolized him until his abuse had driven him into the arms of his own knowledge and books. Thor had realized that he was not simply an annoying monster sent to torment him after he had given up on ever getting the perfect Aesir’s love. Now, brought together in his ice cave in Jotunnheim, they had discovered that old feelings dimmed but never died. And, waking to find Thor beside him, his constant companion, only reaffirmed the man’s promise to love him regardless and to support him no matter what. That the torture he had endured was not just out of love for his new-found realm but for his chosen lover.

“He hasn’t left your side except to discourse with Helblindi.” He turned his head in the opposite direction at the sound of his mother’s calm voice. She smiled at him tenderly, one of her hands reaching out to grasp his hand as it lay, hidden by his side. “He truly loves you. And he kept his promise to bring you home to me.”

He released a long sigh before releasing his apology once more. “I never wanted to hurt you, Mother.”

“I know,” she replied kindly, her voice filled with kindness and understanding. “And I do not blame you for leaving. There were days in recent times when I watched Odin squash you and all I wanted was your happiness. You’ve found it, it seems, even if it has brought you pain.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, his gaze flicking back over to the slumbering man on his other side. “The pain was worth it.”

“I am glad to hear that,” the Queen Regent stated, giving his hand a squeeze, “But, if anyone is to blame for this, it is me. I have been passive and I refuse to be sidelined by Odin and his bigoted views any longer.”

He smiled, squeezing the woman’s hand weakly, his fingers unable to close completely, even as he allowed her words to sink in. “Helblindi?” he asked, confused. He had come to Asgard for his brother and Jotunnheim. He had been imprisoned and banished but he would not have begrudged his sibling, his king, for abandoning him and shoring up their realm in a much needed sense of self-preservation. Instead, the King of Winter was on Asgard, discoursing with his lover. 

Frigga nodded, her eyes soft and shining with an inner kindness that was indelible to her very soul. “He arrived shortly after you were recovered from Muspelheim concerned that he hadn’t heard from you.” Her face broke into a bright grin, her cheeks coloring. “He wants a royal marriage binding his realm to ours. That would be the foundation of a powerful alliance.”

“That was Helblindi’s intention when he sent me back with Thor,” he stated honestly, his face falling from its smile. “He knows that Odin will leave Jotunnheim in peace if his grandchild contains Jotunn blood and has a distant claim to the Throne of Winter.”

Frigga patted his hand before setting it back onto his chest. It was unrecognizable, reptilian in structure with knobby knuckles and sharp claws. Before he could say a word about it, the Queen of the Aesir said, “An unfortunate side-effect to extreme heat, my Darling Boy.” The woman shook her head sadly, "Odin does not make wise decisions when the Jotunn are involved; he never has since I have known him. I had hoped it would change when he brought you home to me but he has ignored and abused you instead. I am sorry, Loki.”

He cocked his head, feeling the tense muscles in his neck protest at the action. “Why? You’ve done nothing but love me in the face of your husband. What I do not understand is if the All-Father hates the Jotunn so much, why would he bring me here?”

His mother shook her head. “It is not truly my place to tell you but you deserve to know.” She averted her gaze, inhaled slowly, and met his eyes once more. “Odin Borson feels betrayed by the Jotunn because they abandoned Asgard in his youth. His mother was not truly a mother but a bearer…” She paused, still meeting his gaze, searching for his understanding. 

His eyes widened at the implication. Odin is half-Jotunn! The thought shocked him, making his heart race.

“His bearer left him with Bor,” he stated evenly, finally beginning to see not only why the man that had adopted him hated his species and place of birth but also why he had only viewed him as a bartered bride and nothing else. That was the only way that he saw the Jotunn: warriors that were unpredictable wombs, willing to forsake anything, including their own kin, for their own interests.

“He was left with a bitter, distant father who sought revenge for the abandonment. He imposed restrictions, tariffs, and set them at the bottom of the Nine, calling Bestla a cold-hearted, unfeeling monster and the stereotype was born.” Frigga sighed, shaking her head as she stared off through the window behind the slumbering Thor. “Truthfully, Bor did not understand Bestla - he was a warrior and a sorcerer before their marriage and Bor only wanted a rare beauty of a wife, subservient and feminine, willing to fold to her husband’s every whim.” Frigga’s eyes became glazed, lost in thought. “Or so the stories go. Few tell them for fear of retribution but women gossip, as you know. My hope for the next Jotunn Prince is that he will be happy…”

The Queen of Asgard gave him a small smile, her intent orbs fixing once more on his features. “And Odin took you because he found you extraordinary. Your seidr…it’s unmatched and my husband saw you as a weapon. You are the one that had other thoughts, once more proving to Odin that the Jotunn are an independent and willful people who are not to be trifled with.” She chuckled, returning her focus to the window. “My little troublemakers, the pair of you could bring such change.”

He followed her gaze but stopped when he saw Thor’s slack features. He gave them a small, tender smile. “I hope, as does Helblindi, that we can do that,” he breathed. Looking at the Thunderer, the perfect Aesir, gave him hope for reasons he could not understand or explain. But, then again, love, makes fools of us all, he mused, lips twitching.

His brow furrowed as his sluggish brain recalled exactly what he was speaking with his mother about. “If Helblindi is here, does he intend to finish finalizing the treaty with you and Thor? Surely he intends to return to Jotunnheim, with Byleistr’s child due in only few months."

“Now that you’re on your way to making a full recovery, you may ask him yourself,” his mother smiled, a twinkle in her eyes. “He has been asking after you. He’s even visited you a couple of times while you slept.”

A rush of terror rushed through his throbbing viscera. “Helblindi wishes to speak with me?” He hated how his voice trembled like a child at the thought of facing his elder sibling’s disappointment. After all, he was hospitalized for simply being Jotunn and loving the Heir of Asgard. He had come with a task and gotten no results until his King had come commanding them. He had come to be an ambassador and had become a convict, a fugitive and a banished criminal. 

Frigga, as always, sensed his thoughts and unease. “He understands that you came into a hostile environment. That you were convicted of a crime, however petty, and arrested on sight; that you were aided in an escape attempt and banished for efforts that were not even your own. He forgives you for Odin’s failures; Helblindi is wise and understands that you intended to fulfill his wishes. He also understands that, unlike the alliance-driven marriage between Bor and Bestla, you would wed Thor for love. An alliance is secondary to your happiness.”

“I-I…,” he stammered, flushing at the clear statement from his mother. He did love Thor; it was a realization that had dawned on him while he was on Jotunnheim, wrapped in the warm embrace of his not-brother. He just didn’t want to admit it aloud. Then it became real. “I wish to help both my peoples…”

The Goddess of Marriage beamed at him, brushing some of his hair from his brow, skirting something large and unfeeling that had certainly not been there before, her thumb lingering to trace one of his sensitive brow ridges. The action brought him comfort, reminding him of his childhood when nothing seemed wrong in the world. “And there’s the young prince who looks out for everyone but himself. Next you will tell me that you agreed to the Winter King’s decree of a royal marriage out of obligation and not because you have the slightest emotion for Thor.”

Rolling his eyes, he released a heavy sigh. “Fine. I love the oaf.”

“Good.”

Thor’s voice, rough from sleep rumbled from his other side, starling him. 

He jumped, frightened from the conversation that he had thought was private, his head spinning to face the beaming blonde beside him, whacking the something that was now attached to his head. “It is rude to listen to the conversations of others, Thor,” he snapped snarkily to cover his brief shock. 

The man he loved gave him a mocking frown, his eyebrows quirked, teasing him. “Says the man who is known for hearing everything and holding it close to his chest.”

“And look where that has gotten me,” he grumbled, his voice dropping as the thought truly struck him, one of his heavy, heat-deformed hands waving idly. “Nearly dead because of the disappointment I became in the eyes of the All-Father.”

“Ah,” the Thunderer breathed, giving him a tender smile as he grabbed his weakened hands in his iron grip. “But only nearly!”

He laughed at the man’s bright, cheery smile. The action hurt, his chest throbbing and his lungs hating each shuddering motion and inhalation of warm, dry air. He began to cough, curling inward on himself. Two pairs of hands helped him to sit up, easing his aching airways. “My thanks,” he rasped, feeling so weak now that his humor had expended his energy. 

“I will tell Helblindi that you will be ready to see him tomorrow,” Frigga stated calmly but authoritatively. “You are still too weak for him to come today.”

He nodded his thanks, still supported by Thor’s arms.

_ _ _ _ _

Everything still hurt, his joints, his muscles, his viscera, even the simple act of breathing, but he was relieved to be leaving the Healing Wing later in the day. After meeting with his brother and king, Helblindi. 

In an attempt to come across healthier than he was, he insisted on being moved to the wide patio windows that overlooked his mother’s gardens. Walking his way across the Healer’s Wing had been trying and he was grateful for his lover’s support. Thor had helped to prop his aching body up on several pillows and was seated beside him on the white wicker furniture a bit stiffly out of anxiety and necessity. 

He had recently discovered that part of the reason the being beside him had remained there was because he too had been abused by his father. His back was a crisscross web of thinning scars even though it was healed but the skin and muscles were still tender and lacked flexibility for fluid movement. The Thunderer had been given free rein to leave the Healing Wing but he had to return to continue to allow Eir to continue to work and to continue to regain his range of motion. 

“Nervous?” the Thunderer asked, smiling as his thumb teased the back of his hand, tracing one of his replenished but thickened ridges and making him shiver. 

“I am fine,” he replied, “I am simply upset that I am not well enough to see my brother in our private quarters or in one of the lesser halls. It is unbecoming…I fear he will see this as a slight. I fear my appearance will disappoint him.”

Thor shook his head. “He understands that you were abused and that you are recovering, Loki. Be reasonable.”

He released an audibly heavy sigh. “I know. I just fear that I’ve let him down.”

“Ah,” the Thunderer breathed, smiling knowingly. “There is the root of the matter.”

He rolled his ruby eyes at the man beside him. Thor was getting too observant and his increased astuteness was something that he had hoped for in his youth. 

“Someone is becoming a ruler that Asgard can be proud of,” he mused, lips quirking before patting the Thunderer’s calloused hand with his own cool fingers. “And, yes, you are quite observant. I am too weary to care that you’ve discovered my true feelings. But…” He sighed heavily. “I love you.”

Thor’s lips pressed themselves to his temple beneath what he had learned was a demonic horn, his warm breath causing him to shiver once more. “I love you, too.”

They sat in silence, the blonde’s head resting on his own blue brow as they watched the world pass by their window. The sun was just above the horizon, a few hours into her journey across the sky, painting the gardens and fields below them in a bright canary yellow. Birds chased each other through the sky, flitting in and out of trees, their acrobatic display emphasizing their freedom as the world woke. It was comfortable and perfect, and Loki knew that he wouldn’t have traded anything for the moment.

He felt Helblindi’s approach before he heard it, the air movements setting his pronounced ridges alight with brushes of cool air that could only come from a large body carved from the Winter. Thor remained oblivious beside him, his warm, clam breaths adding a contrast about his cheekbone and collarbone to the on coming chill of the Jotunn King.

Inhaling slowly, he breathed, “Greetings, Helblindi, King of Winter.”

Thor straightened, turning with a sharp inhale, no doubt pulling on his new scars with the rapidity of his movement. He watched the older man’s eyes widen at the sight of the massive giant before he, too, stated, “Welcome, King Helblindi.” 

“Prince Thor.” 

Loki smiled. He could hear the hidden smirk of approval in his older brother’s greeting. While the King of Winter had essentially commanded him to wed his adopted sibling, he was glad that the man approved of the match. Not that Helblindi would say that aloud. 

“Brother,” he murmured, turning his head to see the awesome cobalt expanse of the Jotunn ruler. “Thank you for coming to see me. I am…sorry that I was unable to finish your command in a timely manner. Odin proved to be more difficult than expected.” He gestured to a long, granite bench beside him. “Please. Have a seat."

Helblindi cocked an eyebrow, accepting his invitation. “Thank you. I’d say that Odin has proven to be a bit of a blockade to our plans.” He frowned, his disapproval evident. “I am glad, though…that you are alive and that you are going to fulfill your promise to me and to your people.”

“Of course,” he replied, smiling as he reached, clawed hand shaking to grasp Thor’s calloused hand in his own. “We are a good match. You proclaimed it yourself, my King.”

“We will end the hostilities between our peoples,” Thor chimed in, obviously unhappy with his lack of inclusion in the conversation. “I intend to wed Loki as soon as he is well.”

Helblindi raised an eyebrow once more, his dark eyes flashing to the blonde briefly before meeting his once more. “And the All-Father?”

He weighed his words wisely. “His madness is making him unfit and unstable to rule. He sleeps now and, if we wed quickly, he will no longer be able to do anything against our union and the completion of the treaty.”

His brother inclined his head, his features softening slightly. “You know what must be done, Loki. There is only one thing that will keep Odin from releasing his wrath on Jotunnheim.”

He nodded before raising his hand, curling in his gnarled thumb and pinky fingers towards his calloused palm. “Three, actually.” 

“Three?” Thor hissed, confusion coloring his baritone. 

“Three,” he confirmed before stating what he had deemed obvious. “The first would be treasonous: murder the All-Father while he sleeps.”

Thor’s grip on his arm tightened painfully, making him continue quickly. “Calm yourself, Thor. I have no intention of committing patricide. Odin’s power is waning. He will not need to be killed for the contract to be fulfilled.” 

The grip on his arm lessened, his azure skin comforted by a warm pat. “The second: Marrying Thor and living on Jotunnheim, would prevent war but would keep hostilities high. It would also make Thor’s future decisions regarding the Winter Realm appear too skewed or sympathetic to their cause instead of the Aesir, whom he would rule.”

“That’s not terrible,” Thor interjected, his voice filled with hope. 

“Loki has a point,” his true brother stated, his voice even and level, following his logic back to where he knew was coming. “You need to appear to draw your sympathy from your Jotunn spouse, not because you live among the Winter until you’re crowned. Besides, the Aesir might rebel against your coronation. You father has another son and a strong daughter. One of them could rule.”

“When you put it that way…,” his lover muttered under his breath beside him, clearly dejected. 

He sighed heavily. “Which leaves option three.”

“Yes,” the large blue being stated, folding his arms over his chest. “As I mentioned on Jotunnheim, it is the best course of action.”

“For everyone but me,” Loki hissed, his jaw set and determined. “But that’s nothing new. Being trampled on is clearly my lot in life.”

“Trampled on?” Thor queried, not quite understanding. “I don’t want you to be abused, Loki. I swore I wouldn’t let that happen to you again.”

He shook his head, the action making him a bit dizzy. He let his head fall into his free hand, one of his horns rubbing against his callouses, propping it up. “This is something that cannot be stopped. It is inevitable. I’ve known for a while. I just - I’m not ready.”

“Of course,” the Thunderer murmured, pressing a kiss to his exposed temple. “You are still recovering.”

He released a humorless chuckle, shaking his head in his palm. “Of course.” He shot a long glance at the blonde beside him. “You still don’t know what Helblindi and I are discussing, do you?”

“No,” his lover said innocently enough. “But I will help you with your task, Loki. You will not bear the burden alone.”

He resisted a chuckle, knowing that his lungs and ribcage would not be able to handle the jostling. “You certainly will have to help me, Thor. It takes two to have a child.”

“What!?” The Heir of Asgard jumped back, his eyes wide with shock and a bit of fear. 

Helblindi began to laugh, his rolling chuckle shaking him to his very marrow. The jovial sound was cacophonous like the grating of ice against rock while simultaneously light as air and, coming from his very serious elder brother, it was a bit surprising. He liked it, of that he was certain and he couldn’t help but smile and release a couple of giggles of his own.

“Yes, Odinson,” the ruler of Jotunnheim coughed, regaining his composure, “Only a child of your blood and the blood of Laufey could end hostilities. It would have the potential to be the heir of two realms, even as third in line to mine own.”

“So the third option is reliant on Loki having my child?” Thor practically choked out, still wide-eyed with disbelief. 

“Yes,” he said, feeling as if he were stating the obvious. “And it should occur before Odin wakes, just like our wedding.”

The blonde blinked at him, his sky blue gaze flickering between himself and his brother with an odd light that he couldn’t quite place. Finally, the silence between them broke with a rumbling realization from the Thunderer. “None know how long the All-Father will sleep.”

All of their oddly colored eyes darted to each other, the weight of their situation falling on them heavily. 

“I suggest that the wedding uniting our realms come within the week,” Helblindi stated, matter-of-factly. “When you are strong enough, you know what is expected.”

_ _ _ _ _

It was odd to stand at the golden doors of the Great Hall staring down the crammed aisle of people at Thor in his regal, Aesir glory. He was smiling, his eyes shining with unshed tears beneath his silver, winged helm. Why that perfect man loves me, I will never know or understand.

His own hideousness sat heavily on his shoulders, feeling out of place even as he knew that he had worn it for centuries. I am not that prince anymore. I never will be again. 

He inhaled, fixing a smile on his face and took his first step into is new life.

_ _ _ _ _

Loki was beautiful. His imperfections were diminished in his eyes as he walked, slowly and gingerly down the aisle of dignitaries to stand beside him and their mother. He seemed to glide even as his steps were slow and shuffling. His new, slate grey horns caught and reflected the light of a thousand torches and the bright sunlight, looking more regal than his golden helm of yesteryear. It illuminated the facets of his rich azure skin, making the thick, silver scars of his ridges appear like highlights instead of what they truly were. Not that there is anything wrong with what they are…They’re striking. 

Cool hands with long, ebony claws and gnarled but long fingers grasped his, giving them a small squeeze that still lacked the strength to sustain the effort for too long a period of time. Slowly, he squeezed back, releasing the pressure as best he could before turning to face their mother. 

Her pretty features were filled with love and pride, tears tracing her cheeks in slow trails. She spoke words of love and honor and protection and unity, all of which he wished he remembered, but instead he held Loki’s hand and felt truly blessed to be pledging himself to the being he loved more than anything. Their lives together would not be easy, that much was quite clear, but he knew that they would support each other and be there for each other for every day of forever. 

“I love you, Loki,” he murmured, sliding the golden band about his lover’s - nay, his husband’s finger.

The azure man smiled at him, his lips trembling as his ruby eyes bloomed with tears. “I love you, Thor,” he replied through a breath as a similar band was slipped onto his own finger. With that action and those words, the man had claimed him as his just as he had claimed the other man for his own. 

_ _ _ _ _

He didn’t know why he was nervous. He had lain with Thor before. Of course, then it had been of his own free will and it had been in the comfortable cool of Jotunnheim. Then he had been attractive. Then he had been on birth control, as he had been every day since he had first entered puberty. 

Now, there was pressure. Now, there was heat. Even the nights on Asgard were filled with it. Now, he looked like a cross between a Jotunn and a Demon, a terrifying half-thing of nightmares. Now, he was not on birth control. This single act on this night could change his life forever. He would no longer only have himself and Thor to think about. He would have a child to rear and raise, to protect and fret over. A small part of himself and a small part of Thor with too much responsibility on its little shoulders. 

Thor emerged from their shared wash chambers, a towel slung about his trim waist as his wet hair brushed his shoulders, looking like spun gold. The man gave him an appreciative smirk as his sapphire eyes scanned his exposed, lean frame. 

He was still a bit thin and frail, his musculature was a bit depleted from his prolonged rest and exposure to the intense heat of Muspelheim, but he knew that his skin had regained its usual color and his hair had stopped falling out a few days previous. It lay about his head, framing it against his pillow like a spilled halo of ebony ink offset by his thick but powerful-looking horns as they curled from his brow. He smiled, his lips allowing some of his sharp teeth to press into his lower lip in an attempt to hide his trembling. 

The larger man moved towards him, his grace emphasized by the visible pull of his muscles and the sway of his barely clothed hips. Slowly, his range of motion not completely returned, Thor leaned over the down mattress, his strong hands caging his smaller figure as he eased himself down beside him. 

“Hello,” the Thunderer murmured.

“Hello,” he grinned, his hand reaching across his body to caress his husband’s cheek with his still strange hands. He cocked an eyebrow, his smile becoming a smirk as he thought about his possession of the man beside him (Of course, the populace no doubt saw it as the other way around). The warmth of the other being radiated off his still damp body and, despite his attraction to the contrary, he felt comfortable in the man’s strong arms. 

Slowly, in an attempt to hide his own fear of what they were about to do, he slowly allowed his hands to travel lower, gently tugging the towel open. Brushing the wet fabric back, he allowed his hand to travel over the golden, tanned hip to expose and cup the taller man’s pert bottom. 

Thor shuddered at his touch but raised his own hand to cup his cheek, gently pulling his chin in for a kiss. It was gentle, if not hesitant, testing the waters before diving in further. He opened his lips to the man, deepening the contact as he exhaled his cool breath into the humid cavern before him. Thor shuddered momentarily before slipping his tongue past his sharp teeth. 

Their tongues danced, darting between teeth, tasting each other as their hands wandered over each other’s bodies. His ridges were constantly firing, reacting to the warm fingers that traced them even as his own claws skimmed the scars that decorated the Thunderer’s back. Thor moaned as his mouth wandered lower, sucking along his ridged jawline before placing kisses down the thick tendon along his lover’s neck. 

Both of their arousals grew, sliding past each other as they continued to explore, causing both of them to moan and gasp as they retreated and advanced. 

“Loki,” the Heir of Asgard grunted into his hair, his hips rolling against his own with an increasing speed and precision.

His hands grasped Thor closer to him, their thick lengths rubbing with an intensity that he couldn’t stand for much longer. “Thor!” he gasped, easing his legs open and revealing his hidden hole. “Take me! Please!”

The golden god complied, stilling his hips briefly to shift his weight to his forearms that framed his shoulders. Slowly and tenderly, his hole was teased by the blunt, weeping tip of Thor’s member. The wetness increased until he slowly felt himself spread wide, parting to take all of his husband. 

The man hovering over him watched his face, stilling at the slightest cringe of his features. He allowed his hands to run down the scarred sides and back of the Thunderer before cupping the man’s arse with his long, clawed fingers. He gave the muscled expanse a squeeze, pulling him further into his depths. “Thor,” he moaned, his mouth wide as his eyes saw stars for the first time. 

The man above him chuckled, his pace increasing to a tempo that helped him ride out his orgasm and easing his fears for once and for all. The blonde kissed along his jawline and his neck, sucking at his ridges as his hips snapped. A trace of teeth sent his hands scrambling once more along the imperfect back he clung to, bonelessly. 

The tempo began to stuttered, becoming erratic until Thor stilled and spilled. The heat splashed up into him, filling him and sending his own member spraying, painting their torsos with white streaks. 

Thor captured his lips once more as he slowly rolled off of him. A large, hot hand cupped his face, his thumb playing along his cheek. He reciprocated the movement, smiling at the other man. “I love you,” he breathed, the warmth fading as his energy waned. 

“As I love you,” his husband murmured, capturing his lips once more. As their kiss broke, Thor rested his brow against his own, breathing the same air. The action felt almost more intimate than what they had just done and he longed for it. He felt complete and comfortable and he slipped into slumber feeling more loved and complete that he ever had. 

_ _ _ _ _

He woke feeling overly warm and sticky, his body aching all over. He opened his eyes to find the room he was lying in filled with mid-morning sunlight, a shaft of light straying in through the navy gossamer curtains to fall on the bare, golden arm of his husband that circled his waist.

He smiled, allowing his own cool hand to move to rest over the large hand and threaded his lean fingers through those of the man he loved. Thor sighed, snuggling a bit deeper into his back as his arm contracted.

“Hmmmm, Loki,” the man breathed, his hot exhale playing through his tangled hair and the raised ridges on the back of his head and neck. “How do you fare this morning?”

His lips twitched into a relaxed smirk before raising the hand he held to his lips. Pressing a cool kiss into the center of the closed palm, he replied, “Wonderfully.” He kissed the palm again. “And you?”

The Thunderer chuckled, squeezing him once more. “The best I could possibly be.”

It was his turn to hum in response, unsure of what to say to the man that had, more likely than not, made him into something that he had not wanted to be - or, at least, not something that he had wanted to be for a few millennia. He knew it was a possibility from the moment his mother had sat him down and told him that he was being sold; even before that, truly. He had been taking his potion to prevent any pregnancy on his part or those of his partners then. THe same was not true for now.

The thought gave him pause and a thrill of fear lanced through him. Everything is changing, he mused even as he snuggled a bit deeper into his lover’s hold. Faster than I could have imagined.

_ _ _ _ _

If only he had known how true his early morning musings would have been all those weeks ago. He loathed them as he emptied the meager contents of his stomach into the gilded bowl of the toilet once more. Everything hurt, he was constantly too hot, nothing was appetizing, he had a constant migraine, and he couldn’t believe that he was in the situation he was in. 

He could, but he didn’t want to. 

“Loki?” Thor called as the main door slammed shut behind him, making him feel as if his skull was being spit by a dulled ax. 

He groaned, more bile spewing into the toilet as he did so. 

Thor’s heavy tread passed through their rooms, drawing closer and closer to his terrible resting place. 

He pushed himself up to stand, flushing the contents of the bowl with a sharp flick of his wrist and pushing his hair back from his sweaty brow, carefully skirting his horns with growing skill. Stumbling to the sink, he sucked water into his mouth, swishing it around before expelling the bad taste into the basin and down the drain. Thor cannot see me like this! he mentally screamed, his heart beating so loudly and so rapidly that it must have been heard through the whole of Gladsheim. He mustn’t know that his child is making me violently ill. 

He looked up at his reflection, instantly knowing that he couldn’t pass himself off as well. The skin around his eyes was dark, almost black with lack of sleep and water. His eyes burned with a feverish fire that could not be disguised. His hair was lanky and greasy, tumbling over his brow and shoulders and twisting themselves around his prominences in strings. He looked worse than he felt. 

“We missed you on the clay this morning!” Thor was saying as he strode into the room, sweaty and golden like the sun. His smile, white against his tanned skin, fell the instant their eyes met in the mirror. “Loki! You look unwell! Shall I get Eir?”

He shook his head, wanting to keep his state a secret a bit longer, if only for his own masculine pride. “It is but a bug, Thor. I have been neglectful of my Heat potion and my body is rebelling against it.”

“Loki,” his husband chided, rushing to him to rub his exposed back, sending his ridges tingling. “You’ve been forgetting to take your potion? How could you be so careless? It is unlike you.” The man grabbed his twisted hand with a gentle pat. “You know what exposure to heat does to you. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Clearly, he mused, recalling quite clearly the excruciating pain of his stay on Muspelheim and the resulting changes to his figure. Trying to not roll his eyes, he simply shook his head. His hair fell across his face as he looked down into the gilded bowl of the sink. He had been taking his Heat potion. It had just turned his stomach and he found it in the bottom of the toilet for the last few days. “I had hoped that prolonged exposure to the sun would help me build an immunity…” he muttered, weakly. He wouldn’t have bought it but he hoped that the considerably more gullible Heir of Asgard would. 

The rubbing on his back paused momentarily before his husband pressed a kiss onto the back of his sweaty neck. “As you say, Loki, but please take the potion. Your experiment is clearly not working.”

“Of course, Darling,” he muttered, rolling his eyes at the reprimand. If only your child agreed with you. He gave the hulking man behind him a gentle push with his hand as his other hand pushed his rather greasy hair away from his face with a forced smile and little success. “I need to shower. Go!”

Thick, band-like arms wrapped about his waist, lifting his toes off the ground briefly as he was spun towards the shower. The action made his stomach clench and his head spin but his empty belly, thankfully, did not allow anything to pass his lips. “We could shower together,” his lover murmured into his ear, brushing his thick hair behind it, making him shiver. Lust lanced through him, flooding heat to his core and causing his masculine member to begin to swell with interest and his feminine hole to moisten. 

Thor was just as interested, seeing as his thick length was pressing fervently into his backside. “Loki,” the taller man growled as he plied kisses and playful nips to his neck and trapezius. “You’re so handsome. You make me insatiable.”

He laughed, giving his husband a firm shove. “Funny. You didn’t find me attractive at all until I left you! And now, I seriously question your eyesight.” 

The blue eyes clouded as his words struck the man he was married to a bit deeper than he had intended them to. Thor’s hands dropped from his sides and the man took a large step back. 

Reaching forward, he grabbed the Thunderer’s calloused hand with both of his own, squeezing the appendage fervently. “Thor…”

The blonde head shook as his lips trembled and pursed. “I will leave you to shower in peace, seeing as I am simply in your way.”

He strode after the retreating god, calling, “Thor! I was teasing! I love you! Come back!”

His lover did not answer his call, leaving him to feel guilty for his playful jab. He exhaled, trying to make the lead feeling in his stomach go away. It didn’t but the nauseated feeling had retreated in the face of it. 

Feeling more like a monster than he had ever felt, he showered, cleaning his rather gross frame as quickly and thoroughly as he could manage. He tried not to let his hands linger on certain areas of his body that would never be the same: his flat, toned stomach, his compact pectorals, his horns and hands, his slim hips, his feminine lips and genitalia. Ghosting over those areas, he rinsed his body in the cool spray and used his seidr to dry himself off. 

With a glance in the mirror, he magicked his mid-back length hair from the tangled mess about his horns into a loose braid and went in search of his husband. Thor would certainly take his apology; after all, the man claimed that his monstrous body made him insatiable. 

_ _ _ _ _

Loki was hiding something. He insisted that he was fine but he knew differently. After all, he had known the younger being all his life. It was one of the pleasures of being raised as an older brother to the Jotunn for centuries. Loki thought he was difficult to read, and maybe he didn’t know why the other being felt the need to hide whatever it was he was hiding, but he did know that there was something Loki did not want him to know. 

That was why his nasty though true retort stung as badly as it had. He loved Loki. He had taken Norns (and Odin) knew how many lashes for him without a single regret. He had vowed to love him forever, regardless of the fact that he was binding himself to someone so broken that he could not see his own beauty. He had done it without any second thoughts or second guesses. Until now. 

Is Loki doing this only out of obligation? Does he not care for me as I do for him? He swore that he did. And he knew that his ex-sibling developed feelings for him later than he had himself. But what if he hasn’t?

“Thor?” 

He turned in his chair, startled by the Jotunn’s soft voice and gasped.

Loki was standing, bare as the day he was born, all of his seeming imperfections on display, in the doorway, a wry smirk on his lips. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Wuh-what are you doing?” he stammered, watching the lean, perfect body of the being he loved slink towards him. His member twitched with obvious interest even as his mind continued to spin. 

“I’m apologizing,” his husband stated, completely sincere as his ruby eyes widened. “I spoke without thinking. I care not when you fell in love with me. All I know is that you do.” 

The man straddled his lap, his bare skin pressing against his clothed chest. Cool hands slipped through the wide opening at his collar and traced his raised scars that trailed across his broad back. Thin lips pressed themselves to his cheek before Loki pulled back, his eyes meeting his own earnestly. “Thor. No one else would do for me what you have. I feel safe when I am in your arms. I know that I am home when I am beside you. And I love you. Please. Do not doubt that.”

He shook his head, his gaze soft and forgiving as he held Loki’s gaze. “I love you, too,” he replied, unable to say anything else and unable to voice his concerns at the moment. His husband did love him, and that was all he needed for the moment.

_ _ _ _ _

The hardness seemed false, firming the space between his hips and below his belly button to the point where there was no give. His abdominals seemed more prominent above the firming, making him seem fitter than he was. Especially since he was struggling to keep any solid foods inside of his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” 

Thor’s concerned voice shook him from his revery, his tentative fingers flying from their cautious probing as he spun on his seat to face the man. “Nothing, Thor!”

The statement came out as a shout, making him instantly regret it. He didn’t want anything to change even as changes were beginning to make themselves known across his body, carving it from masculine to feminine from the inside out. Clearing his throat, he continued at a much lower, calmer volume. “I was simply lost in thought. Reading those reports Mother brought over for you earlier this morning.” He gave the man a broad, toothy grin. “The joys of not being able to sleep in this damned heat!”

The Thunderer’s brow furrowed, mulling over what he had just said. “Are you not taking your potion?”

“No,” he replied, hastily, “I am. I am simply not used to the constant heat anymore.” His face rearranged itself into an emotionless mask before grinning broadly once more. “Who knew how quickly my body would adjust to its natural, cold habitat?!”

Blue eyes squinted at him as the large man drew closer. “What is wrong Loki?”

“It is as I said, Thor,” he insisted, “Nothing is wrong.”

“Something is bothering you!” his husband insisted once more, moving to kneel before him. Large hands grasped the arms of his chair as the man he loved looked up at him with a hint of fear. “Please, Loki. You can tell me anything.”

He smiled softly, cupping the man’s cheek with a cool hand. “I know. And I love you for it.” He exhaled before continuing, “I am working through something - something I need to figure out alone for the moment. But please, let me tell you in my own time. Because you mean so much more to me than anything else in all the Nine.”

“Truly?” Thor breathed, his eyes clouding with tears as they held eye contact, their touches feeling intimate.

“Truly,” he replied before bending at the waist and capturing his husband’s lips, sealing the promise. 

_ _ _ _ _

The gentle rap on her door startled her from her and her mother-in-law from their spinning. She jumped, turning to face the closed door even as Frigga released a small, surprised chuckle. “Enter!” she called, curious as to who was seeking her out. She was shy and quiet, supportive of her husband but unobtrusive in the eyes of the populace: perfect for Balder and for Asgard. That being recognized, she was rarely sought out by the people. Whomever it was, she was sure they were looking for Frigga.

She smiled at the other woman as the door swung open. “I’m sure it’s for you, my Queen,” she stated as a streak of blue entered their sitting chamber. 

Frigga’s eye lit up as they only did around one person: Loki. 

“My Child!” the Queen of Asgard breathed, beaming broadly at her youngest child and her successor as ‘Queen’ of the Aesir. “What brings you to our little spinning circle?”

Loki looked strange, in her opinion; especially since he had stopped flinching every time he caught his reflection out of the corner of his eye in the last couple of weeks. His eyes were uncertain even as his recently changed frame seemed to crumble under their friendly but curious gazes. “Hello Mother, Nanna,” he muttered, one of his hands rising to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “I am glad you are both here. I-I wish to speak with you about something.”

“Of course, Darling,” she stated, patting the settee across from her with a bright smile that probably did little to hide her curiosity. “Anything!”

Her mother-in-law sat behind her spinning wheel once more, her own smile appearing pinched and concerned. The Jotunn followed suit, glancing at the pair of them as he sat in an awkward motion; it was as if he were afraid of breaking something. Loki was cautious but this seemed extreme. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, unable to stop herself from voicing her concern. 

The ebony head shook ever so slightly, the ruby eyes looking blankly into the distance and focused on nothing in particular. “Everything has changed,” he breathed, blinking before his ruby orbs flashed to her face before darting to his mother’s visage. “I had never thought that this would be part of my life and now I have nothing else. My life as I knew it is over.”

“Loki,” Frigga said, her voice calm and even, “I fear that the life of a royal dictates a life of service. It is about finding happiness in the duty.” The woman’s spinning wheel continued to whir, its pace steady and unwavering. 

Chiming in, she added, “I am lucky. I love my husband and I enjoy the work that I can do to help him and our peoples. I am happy to be part of this family and to have been welcomed so eagerly by the Aesir. But, there are certainly parts of this life that feels like a job or a chore. I would not trade it for anything.”

“Ah, but you can still be yourself, Nanna,” her brother-in-law snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously as his voice settled into a threatening growl. “I - Loki - have lost everything. Everything. And for what? Being Jotunn?  Something Odin despises so vehemently. Why do I have to lose every part of my identity to ensure that, when the All-Father wakes, he can do nothing to harm Jotunnheim?”

“Why do you say that, Loki?” she breathed, her own spinning having stopped long ago. “You are proving that the Jotunn are noble and strong. And similar to the Aesir in ways they cannot imagine.” She beamed at her younger sibling-in-law. “You’ve done so much for them, surely Helblindi is pleased?”

“Oh yes,” Loki snorted derisively, “His contract is fulfilled, so he should be quite pleased.” The scarlet eyes hardened before darting about once more. “I’m pregnant.”

She gasped, shocked but not surprised. She knew that the King of Winter had wanted a claim on the Aesir throne as much as he wanted an Aesir claim on his own seat of power. She did pity the man before her, as she knew how insecure he was among the people that he was so clearly different from. She allowed her eyes to drop to the Jotunn’s lower abdomen where she found a small rounding that had not been there previously, revealing his impending motherhood for any that looked closely.

“What did Thor say?” Frigga asked, her voice quiet and low. “He must be happy.”

The head shook once more, the startling eyes now focused on the pair of knobby-fingered and clawed hands that rested in the loincloth-covered lap. “I haven’t told him. I don’t want him to know.”

Frigga rose, her spinning stilling for the first time since she had taken her seat, and moved to kneel before her youngest son. She didn’t say a word, tears glittering in her eyes, and she placed her hand over the blue bump. Her eyes closed and her seidr sparkled over the protrusion. After a moment, her lips curved into a soft smile. “I am proud of you,” she murmured, “You will be an amazing Bearer. This child is strong and full of hope: the image of the Nine under Thor’s rule.”

Loki was trembling, tears streaming down his face as the seidr of the All-Mother sank into his womb. It was a rare blessing, one that she would never receive due to her husband’s infertility, but she knew how it moved all the expectant mothers who were gifted with Frigga’s touch. Her brother-in-law would be okay. Loki was strong and he would not let his life become on defined by motherhood. He was too full of chaos to fall into the role of domestic goddess. 

The All-Mother removed her hand with a warm smile. “Thor needs to know, Darling,” the woman breathed kindly. “On your terms. But he will be upset if he hears rumors through the grapevine or has to speculate for himself. You are growing a life inside of you and your body will show it’s fertility.” 

The Queen of Asgard pressed a fervent kiss to Loki’s brow below one of his horns. “I love you and I am so proud to be your mother, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard."

The teary Jotunn nodded, blinking back tears as he sniffled. “Thank you, Mum.” He inhaled shakily before exhaling in a rush. 

_ _ _ _ _

All that he had accomplished - certain peace with Jotunnheim, open trade with the Realm of Winter and Midgard, and a prospering Asgard - vanished the moment the All-Father woke. 

The morning had dawned just like any other: Loki in his arms, practically purring as the sun rose. The man curled against the warmth of the rays, turning to face him, lazy ruby eyes blinking at him in complete satisfaction beneath his regal horns. Clawed fingers tugged gently on his tangled locks, gently tracing his lips before his icy lips pressed a kiss there. “I love you,” his husband breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Not as much as I love you,” he replied, smiling. 

“True,” the Jotunn snorted, pressing another, brief kiss to his cheek before rolling from the bed and heading into the washroom. 

They had bathed together, exploring one another’s bodies beneath the spray with eager mouths and hands. They had had wild, passionate sex, followed by another shower. Loki was finally eating well at meals (He claimed to have shaken whatever bug had been bother him for a while) and they consumed a hearty breakfast before spending time in the training ring. 

It was on their way back, hand in hand, that their lives changed. It was something he would feel guilty about until the day he died. 

Balder greeted them, racing across the lawn with wide eyes and desperation. 

His brow furrowed even as Loki squeezed his hand reassuringly. “All is well, Thor,” the man had breathed moments before their older brother made his declaration. 

Panting, the sorcerer, his Chief Advisor, stopped before them. “Thor. Loki. Father is awake. He has called an assembly of the Thing. Your presences are requested.”

The ebony haired beauty beside him gave Balder a sharp nod. “Of course. We are coming.”

He may have dragged his feet a bit on his way to the Golden Hall, but Loki was not in a rush either. It was as if they both knew that they were going to be punished. If only he had known how severely, how terribly. If they had known, they would have run to Midgard or Jotunnheim. Anywhere but the Throne Room of Asgard.