#Drowning Seiðr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lady-rose-moon · 2 years

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I need him back

A/N; so this basically takes Wanda out of Marvel and puts you in her place! Ruling out WandaVision, you follow in Wanda's footsteps through Multiverse of Madness

Warnings: major character death, Corrupted!Reader, mental torture

Summary: after finding out that you have lost absolutely everything in the world that you held dear, you are determined to get it back.

Part One { Part Two { Part Three

As the battle raged around you, you swung your sword and your daggers flew in all directions, hitting Chitauri after Chitauri. Staying on Midgard after Thor and Loki left to go back to Asgard to face off with their sister might have been a good idea since all these beasts have returned. As you drove a dagger into the skull of a rider, you saw the Bifrost activate and you anxiously awaited both Princes joining the battle. Sadly, only Thor stepped out of the Bifrost without Mjolnir and with a new axe.

"Thor!" you called out over the cries of the Chitauri. You slammed your sword into another beast before sliding between their legs and sprinting over to the elder prince, "Thor! Where is Loki? Is he okay?"

Thor stared down at you and cupped your neck gently, his eyes full of drowning sorrow and he pulled you into a tight hug. "I'm sorry," the God whispered, "Loki is dead. Really dead."

Your world crashed in that moment and you laughed into Thor's shoulder, patting his back and shaking your head, "don't be silly! Loki can't die! He's died twice before and has come back! You'll see, he's fine!"

"Lady Y/N," Thor pressed, his eyes full of despair as he reached out to you.

Smiling, you batted away his hand and threw a dagger over his shoulder, "Loki isn't dead, Thor. He's Loki! He's tricked us before!"

Before Thor could lie even more, you ran off into the heat of battle, your mind consumed with thoughts of falling into bed with Loki at the end of the day and raving about how amazing it felt to drive your daggers through the skulls of your victims. Loki couldn't be dead, he would never leave you alone in this world!

A rumble sounded throughout the battlefield and your seiðr immediately informed you that Thanos had arrived. Grinning, your seiðr gleamed around your hands as you took off into the air to face the deadly foe. Even if you went to Valhalla in this battle, Loki would understand! You were going to kill Thanos for breaking Loki back when he fell from the Bifrost.

You landed in front of the titan just as he was approaching Wanda and Vision. You saw that she was going to destroy the Mind Stone and therefore kill Vision and your heart cracked, how it must feel to lose the one you love. Loki would cuddle you later as you cried for them.

Turning to Thanos, he studied you and recognition flashed in his eyes. "Ah," the titan spoke, running chills down your spine as your seiðr crackled around you, "God of Mischief's wife. So sad that you weren't there to see him. It's a shame that he had to die, he could have been my puppet again."

You laughed as you held a dagger up to his face, he was trying to get under your skin. Loki wouldn't have died and left you alone here! He will be here, he and Heimdall were just taking their time! "Nice try but I know he's alive, you haven't won!"

"Oh dear," Thanos chuckled darkly, approaching you and watching your stance tighten, ready to attack, "you're in denial, child. As much as you wish to deny it, I am telling the truth. Loki Laufeyson is dead. Neck snapped and he was dead before he was even thrown back to his worthless brother."

Rage soared through your veins and you screamed as your seiðr ignited in your palms, throwing blast after blast at the titan as he used the Space Stone as a shield against your attacks. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you focused on the core of your seiðr and wrapped a ring of green fire around him.

You closed in the ring around him but you were thrown to the ground when the Mind Stone exploded behind you. Slowly getting to your feet, you didn't have time to stop him as Thanos activated the Time Stone and turned back time around him.

When you were back in your previous place, seiðr burning in your hands, Thanos swatted you away and knelt beside you, picking your head up by your hair. "I know grief, little one, I see why he used you," Thanos spoke softly before dropping you down onto the ground and walking towards Wanda and Vision, kicking Wanda away and seizing Vision by the throat.

You watched as he tore the Stone from Vision's head and added it to the gauntlet, taking in the powerful energy of the combined Infinity Stones.

Suddenly, Thor's new axe flew through the air right into Thanos's chest. Landing before the titan and taking his head into his hand, Thor snarled down at him, "I told you, you'd die for that."

"You... you..." Thanos began, his breathing laboured as Thor stared at him in confusion, "you should have gone for the head."

"NO!" Thor yelled but it was too late, Thanos snapped his fingers and a shockwave threw him and Thor back.

Getting to your feet, you rushed over to your brother-in-law and cupped his cheek, "Thor? Thor! Come on, not you too!"

Thor slowly opened his eyes and smiled up at you before your eyes widened as you stared at your hands. They were disappearing! You were disappearing!

Thor pulled you into a hug, shaking his head quickly, "don't go. Don't go! Not like him..."

"I'm sorry..." you whispered to him, tilting your head and smiling at him, "I'll say hello to Loki for you."

As quick as you disappeared, you reappeared. Knelt awkwardly on the floor, you looked around in confusion for any sign of Thor. He had just been here! Where is he!?

An orange portal appeared in front of you and you held out your daggers to the sorcerer that you had met before. "So, we meet again, Princess Y/N Lokiwife. I'm sorry it is under such circumstances but we need your help."

Your anger from before resurfaced and you threw a dagger in his direction but he merely caught it and sighed, "I apologise for what happened, Y/N," Doctor Strange spoke carefully, "Loki was a good man to you. I trust that he will continue to live in your memory."

Scoffing, you marched past the sorcerer through the portal. What you saw on the other side was the ruined land that used to be Avengers Compound. Seeing it destroyed left a mournful spark in your heart as you remembered how you and Tony had agreed to study the science of magic in the labs, how you and Cap had sparred on the grass out front, how you and Loki had danced in the rain one too many times and it left you rolling in the sheets for the next three hours.

Even the thought of Loki had tears prickling in your eyes but you stood tall, daggers in one hand and a sword in the other. Your Asgardian armour materialised on your body, changing your chosen colour on the leathers to green to honour the loss of your husband. His helm appeared on your head, the simple one that he wore throughout his reign as King of Asgard.

Everyone was gathering together, waiting for a signal to attack and you readily joined them, keen to take your anger out on another army. The weapons in your hands vibrated with your nerves as you took in the tension around you, you could feel all the sorrow and loss burning in the atmosphere and being transformed into rage, determination to fight for what was right and to save the world.

"Avengers!" Came the voice of Steve from a way down, his voice magnified thanks to Doctor Strange. Mjolnir came flying into his hand and you stared in shock for a moment before he whispered, "assemble."

With a mighty cry, you all charged at the army on the other side of the field. You pushed your seiðr into your hands and propelled up into the sky. Below, you could see the moment both sides hit and began the brawl but you focused on one; Thanos. He was wearing armour this time but that bastard wouldn't be spared because of that. With a roar, you dropped down and the space around you gleamed with green when you landed.

Instantly, the scent of blood and dust and explosives hit your nose and it fueled your rage even more. Meeting eyes with your foe, you snarled, "you took everything from me."

The monster regarded you carefully but there was no recognition in his eyes as he raised his blade and got into a battle stance, "I don't even know who you are."

"You will," you whispered and closed your eyes. Centuries old seiðr burned through your veins, prickling to be used, to be ignited and bring forth your storm. With deep concentration, you lifted off the ground, the floor around you lifting alongside you and memories flew through your mind as you launched debris after debris at the monster.

"Remember, darling," he whispered gently into your ear, his hands stroking down your forearms as your hand gleamed your familiar forest green, "you know yourself better than anybody. Channel your knowledge into your hands and try again."

Following his lead, you closed your eyes and dug deep into yourself, curling protectively around your magical core as you felt it pulse and spark at your proximity. Slowly, you drew it to the surface and opened your eyes, grinning when you saw a fully formed illusion of yourself in front of you. Whooping with joy, you turned and wrapped your arms around Loki's neck, laughing and giggling.

Loki laughed with you before his eyes dropped to your lips and he leaned forward, pressing his cold lips to yours and smiling when you sighed into the kiss, your arms tightening around his neck.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you pushed past the many illusions you had created to distract the monster and leapt forward, catching him off-balance and throwing him to the floor, your dagger to his neck.

"Now I remember you," Thanos spat, "you're Laufeyson's whore. All he ever screamed was your name as I cut him to pieces and put him together again. Judging by your anger, I say he's dead. Judging by your need to murder me, I killed him."

Your dagger was so close to his throat before you were thrown away by a Chitauri rider, screaming in anger as Thanos got away. Luckily, he didn't get far before Wanda confronted him. Her power was immense and you couldn't help but stand frozen as she attacked him, lifting him up into the air and almost squeezing him to death before he called for his whole army.

You saw the guns start to lock their target onto Wanda so you quickly got to your feet and slid in front of her, pulling up a barrier to save the both of you from the blasts.

"Thanks," Wanda panted, helping you to your feet, offering you a broken smile.

"Anytime. I've got a monster to defeat," you patted her shoulder before running back at Thanos, only to see a woman holding him in place, the gauntlet on his hand that she was keeping open with just her brute strength. When he headbutted her, she showed no reaction so you took Thanos's shock as an opening and blasted his feet so he fell.

You walked up to the woman and sighed, "this man murdered my husband. Let me kill him."

Thanos chuckled and reached up, tugging the power stone from the gauntlet and using its power to blast the both of you away. You hit the ground and rolled, trying to get back onto your feet before Tony lunged in and you watched him take the stones from the gauntlet before he was pushed away.

Thanos heaved breaths as he stood tall, gauntleted hand raised high. "I am... inevitable."

When he snapped, nothing happened and he looked confused, turning over his hand and staring down at the empty gauntlet.

You heard the clink of stones behind you and you turned with Thanos to see Tony on his knees, taking the full power of the Infinity Stones as he glared at Thanos.

"And I..." Tony breathed, his speech becoming difficult as he tried to focus on the matter at hand, "am... Iron Man."

The snap that followed filled your heart with hope as you spun around, hoping to see those that Thanos killed revived; including Loki. Instead, you watched as monster after monster disappeared. Realising what was happening, you stalked forward and grabbed Thanos's hand, snarling down at him.

"My face will be the last you see, just as yours was Loki's last," you spat, smirking as his face was reduced to ash.

~~~~~~~

The satisfaction of Thanos' death didn't linger for long. You didn't attend Tony's funeral but you paid respects before you disappeared from his cabin.

Your anger still burned inside you as you tracked down the witch who had what you needed. Agatha Harkness. You had stalked her for several days now and you were sure her home was covered in powerful runes. You readied yourself for the probability that you would be without your magic, a holster on your thigh prepped with daggers and throwing knives and a gun, a holster on your bicep hidden under your sleeve with another dagger and the pin you spun your hair around was sharpened to use as a weapon if needed.

Blasting down the door, you stepped out of the way of a blast of purple and smirked when you saw Agatha, purple glowing in her hand as she glared at you.

"I thought I sensed someone stalking me," the witch spat, sending another blast your way which you attempted to sidestep but it hit you in your side, making you double over, "what do you want, hun? Are you lost?"

You giggled and threw a dagger right at her face, watching as she caught it and sent it right back to you before the image of you disappeared in a gimmer of green and you appeared behind her. "Sorry," you cooed, kicking her feet and watching her fall, "but I need something of yours."

"The Dark Hold?" Agatha asked sweetly, a sinister look glimmering in her eye, "it consumes everything it touches. Are you sure, dear? Surely Loki wouldn't be very happy."

"I'm doing this for Loki, witch, he will never have to know," you snarled, the remnants of your seiðr gleaming as ropes formed around her, "I'll take the book off your hands."

You walked closer to her and took a keyring from her belt, seeing the book charm on it that seeped with dark magic. You glared down at Agatha with a sickening smirk on your face, "I'm sorry," you whispered, "but you aren't allowed to remember this."

You delved into her mind the moment you touched her temple, erasing all memory of you from her mind and planting ideas in her head that she had lost the Dark Hold a year ago. Smirking, you unbound her and left the dingy cottage, disappearing in a gimmer of forest green.

~~~~~~~

Feeling the press of lips to your skin, you smiled and opened your eyes, seeing Loki above you. With a bright smile on your face, you reached up and cupped his cheeks, bringing him down into a soft kiss. Loki quickly sighed into the kiss and his tongue passed between your lips, his hips rocking against yours,

Taking a breath, you pulled away and whimpered at the sight of him above you. His curls were bouncy, his eyes the most beautiful emeralds that you had ever seen, his toned body easily holding itself above you. With a grin, you pulled him into a more heated kiss and he growled playfully as he rolled onto his back, you straddling him as you continued to kiss.

Just as you were about to undress him, he grabbed your wrist gently and frowned as he whispered, "this has to stop."

You frowned instantly, curious as to why he was saying such a thing. "What do you mean, Loki?

Loki stared down at you with a frown, grief overtaking his senses as he cupped your cheek like usual, closing his eyes and sealing your lips into a kiss. When he pulled away, he sighed and stroked the tears from your cheek, "I'm dead, princess, please stop it... you have to stop... you're losing yourself..."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you sat up and shook your head, "but I am looking for you! You're alive, you know you are! I know you are! If it had just... If you had stayed on Midgard and I had gone with Thor, you would be alive..."

"But that wasn't the case," Loki declared, "I went and I died. That was my choice. I fought for my kingdom, I protected my brother, I protected you."

"But you're not here with me!" You sobbed, climbing out of the bed and walking to the window, frowning when you saw nothing outside of it. Just an illusion, as always, never another universe.

Arms wrapped around your waist and a kiss was pressed to your shoulder as tears dripped down your cheeks, "please," Loki whispered, "please put down the book. Please. I'm dead... Please, Y/N, you're losing who you used to be."

A childish giggle broke your stare out of the window and you whirled around to see a younger version of you and Loki happily playing on the carpet. Loki's hair was shorter, his clothes showed his youth and his smile showed it even more; so innocent and ignorant to the reality of the world outside.

"Loki?" the younger version of you spoke, looking up from her Valkyrie doll to stare at the boy across from her.

Younger Loki looked away from his toy to smile at his friend, "yes, Y/N? Are you alright?"

"Where do you see us in the future?" you asked with a shy smile, your fingers playing nervously with the loose string on your dress, not meeting your friend's eyes in an attempt to not look desperate.

"Why, married to you, of course! You're my bestest friend and I wanna protect you like papa does with mama! When I'm King, you will be my Queen and we will rule Asgard for thousands of years!" Loki declared, pulling you up and laughing at your squeal.

Erupting in laughter, the both of you embraced and swayed contentedly to each other's heartbeats.

"Your Queen," the younger version of you whispered with a dainty smile, "I like the sound of that."

~~~~~~~~

It took a month before your power built up enough for you to look at the multiverse. It required someone with a strong magical core so you trained for weeks to strengthen your core to be able to hold all of that magic.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the Dark Hold and cast the enchantment that allowed you to see the other universes. Giggling erupted immediately, calls of "Loki!", "mummy!", "Daddy!" being heard from a vast number of realities.

Igniting the candles around you, your body rose into the air as you closed your eyes and began the dreamwalking ritual. Soon enough, you found your way into a branch and overtook the you of that reality.

She fought for a while but she had no match for your power, fueled by grief and hatred. You locked her away in her mind for now and took a look at where she was living.

It was a quaint cabin in the mountains. It was cluttered and the fire was lit, the smell of food cooking in the kitchen just behind the living room.

"Y/N!" came the call of the voice you were desperate to hear again and you stepped closer to the kitchen, peeking your head around the corner to stare at your husband. He was dressed in a sweater and black sweatpants that hugged his waist and you drooled. Turning, he saw you staring and smirked, "later, dearest, can you go wake Haven? It's almost dinner time."

You nodded numbly and a flutter overtook your stomach. You had a child with Loki in this reality! Walking into the other room, you saw the child snuggled up on her bed and your heart ached to hold them. You stepped closer and dropped to your knees before the child, gently taking their hand and shaking them.

"Sweetheart," you whispered, their cute little snores continuing so you pressed on, "Haven... come on, baby, time to wake up."

Slowly, the child woke up and she flashed you a delighted smile, reaching for your face, "mama," she whispered tiredly.

With a grin, you reached forward to pick her up but you were thrown back into your own body. Disoriented, you looked around for any sign of Haven or Loki but your heart broke when there were none.

Staring down at your hands, you sobbed when you saw that your fingers were slowly turning black. Sniffling, you looked over at the Dark Hold, doubt settling in before it was destroyed when a thought crossed your mind.

Loki would do the same for you.

~~~~~~~~~

"Apples, right?" Doctor Strange asked, walking up to you as you trimmed the branches of the trees surrounding your home.

"Eventually," you replied, tilting your head at him, "don't tell me there's another time-jumping Thanos to defeat?"

Stephen smirked and shook his head, "no, this is worse. Much worse. See, there's this girl that's jumped into this reality and she's being followed by monsters, wanting her power, we need your help to figure out what is going on."

"There were always others that you could call?" You suggested, elated to hear that the brat you had been tracking for months now had finally found the right dimension.

"Yeah well if you take into consideration all of the bug-themed heroes and then one of the two most powerful Avengers? Who did you think I was going to pick?" Stephen asked with a fond smile on his face.

You grinned as you walked with him, taking account of how he wanted your help, a plan formulating in your brain. "What if you brought America here?" you suggested.

"Here?" Stephen asked with a curious look and you didn't notice your slip up but he did, trying to figure out when he had called her out by her name.

"Yeah. I know what it's like to be on your own, hunted for abilities you never wanted... I can protect her..." you assured him, continuing to walk until realising that he wasn't following. Upon that realisation, you turned to him curiously.

Stephen sighed and shook his head. Taking that as confirmation that you had slipped up, you sighed and shook your head, "you never told me her name, did you?"

"No."

Sighing, you raised your hand and the illusion of the trees disappeared to reveal the dead plot of land that you had killed in a burst of rage, "you know... the illusion was the easy part... the lying? Not so much..."

Your casual clothes melted away to reveal your armour. You were wearing armour reminiscent of Loki's ceremonial garb but the horns were made into a circlet and the overall make was more feminine. Your fingertips became black as coal once more and you found that you didn't care anymore.

You watched as Stephen looked around the destruction until his eyes landed on the Dark Hold. Shocked, he took a step forward towards it, "The Dark Hold," he breathed, his eyes darting to you.

"You know of the Dark Hold?" you asked curiously, tilting your head and stepping closer to him.

"I know that it is the Book of the Damned," Stephen replied, his eyes never leaving yours, "I know that it corrupts anything and anyone it touches. I wonder what it has done to you."

You shook your head and grinned at him, "the Dark Hold only showed me the truth. What I lost... can be mine again..."

"What do you want with America? What do you want with the Multiverse?" Stephen asked, watching your reactions and keeping his guard up as he scowled at you.

You smiled and shrugged languidly, "I'm going to leave this reality and go to one where I can be with Loki."

"Y/N, Loki is dead, you cannot tamper with the multiverse to reverse that," Stephen tried, sympathy on his face as he took a step closer to you.

You sighed and walked close to him until you were close enough to feel his breath on your skin, "if you knew there was a world where you were happy, wouldn't you want to go there?"

Stephen rolled his eyes and looked away, "I am happy."

You grinned and shook your head, "I know better than most what self-deception looks like, Stephen Strange."

"What you're doing is a flagrant violation of every natural law," Stephen continued, his eyes boring into yours, trying to find the woman beneath the corruption, trying to save you, "if you take that child's power, she won't survive."

Your eyes darkened as you leaned closer to him, "I don't relish hurting anyone, Stephen. But she's not a child," you scoffed, walking around the surgeon as you continued, she's a supernatural being. Such raw power could wreak havoc on this and other universes. Her sacrifice... would be for the greater good."

"Well, then you can kiss your title as an Avenger goodbye because that's the kind of justification our enemies use," Stephen retorted, glaring at you as you scowled.

"Is it the one you used? When you gave Thanos the Time Stone? I almost had him, I almost killed him. I was so close, so close to grabbing that gauntlet and reversing what he did to Loki. Instead, because of you, he snapped away trillions. And you were praised for bringing them back," you sneered, a tear dropping unconsciously down your cheek, "you break the rules and become a hero. I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair."

Stephen took a steady breath and sighed, "what happens now?"

"Return to Kamar-Taj and prepare to hand over America Chavez by sundown. Peacefully," you whispered, your eyes never leaving Stephen's, "after that? You'll never see me again."

You began to walk away, the Dark Hold disappearing into your skin as you walked but you stopped when Stephen began again. "And if we don't?"

You turned to him and sighed, shrugging, "then it won't be Y/N that comes for her. It will be the Goddess of Revenge."

With that, you continued walking away, leaving Stephen in the destroyed orchard.

~~~~~~~

"You have to stop, please," a whisper blew through your ears as you waited above Kamar-Taj, watching them getting into a battle formation. Loki's voice used to bring you so much sorrow but you were going to do anything to bring him back, you just needed to wait a while longer.

You watched the sun sink below the mountains and your seiðr gleamed in your hands as you made yourself visible. You saw them all ready to fight and your heart ached. You didn't want to hurt anybody but you would do anything to get your family back.

You watched as Stephen flew up in front of you and you smiled sadly. "All of this for a child you met yesterday," you murmured, a tear dripping down your cheek.

"Y/N, you are justifiably angry. You lost so many things," Stephen frowned, trying to gauge your emotions cautiously.

"My husband has died three times now. Twice, I had to watch and the third I was simply told. Three times my heart has died, three times have I longed for it to be me instead of him," you whispered, not even looking at Stephen now, another tear falling before you gathered yourself and glared at him, "do not speak to me of sacrifice, Stephen Strange."

You flew closer to him and took in his appearance, how calm he was on the outside but how worried he was beneath the surface, a side he longed you not to see. "If you give me what I want," you whispered gently, "I can send you to a world where you can be with Christine."

Stephen drew a breath and floated backwards, his face hardening into a scowl as he snarled, "the full might of Kamar-Taj stands against you," behind him, the battle formation got ready to fight and you smiled at their efforts, "do not dare to enter these sacred grounds."

"You have no idea just how reasonable I've been," you shook your head, Loki's voice in your mind coming forth to beg you to stop once more but you pushed it away.

"Yeah," Stephen sighed, rolling his eyes, "Book of the Damned, calling yourself Goddess of Revenge, conjuring creatures to abduct a kid, I don't exactly call that being reasonable."

You laughed softly, your nose tingling from the onslaught of tears, "sending those creatures after her instead of myself was... mercy. And in spite of your hypocrisies and insults, I have begged you to safely get out of my way," you spat, a tear dragging down your cheek as you continued, "you have exhausted my patience but I do hope you understand that even now... what's about to happen... this is me... being... reasonable."

You shot a blast of darkened green at the sorcerer but it was blocked by a shield. Once realising that your attack failed, you stopped and watched him fly down to stand with the Sorcerer Supreme.

Snarling, you spent the next ten minutes fighting your way to getting to some point of weakness in the shields. An opportunity came in the shape of a trainee, his hands shaking and his nerves being displayed on his face. Giving him a small smile, an illusion appeared behind him and whispered, "run."

The shield fell as the trainee scampered, bashing past other sorcerers. You built up your seiðr and threw it through the hole in the shield, their screams fueling your anger as you threw blast after blast at the people attacking you.

In the back of your mind, you knew that this was wrong, you knew you needed to stop, that there were other ways that you could try but the Dark Hold's grip on you was too great.

You brought the sanctum to its knees and when you landed, a wave of green flashed and you walked through the ruin, not really seeing it. You needed to get America. You needed to get Loki and Haven back, you needed them!

With a deep breath, you delved into your mind and located America in a secured room with elder sorcerers. If only she could see that you needed her power for good reasons! You needed Loki back, that's all you wanted! All you would ever need!

As you opened your eyes again, you saw Stephen in front of you. He glared at you as he spoke, "you want the girl, you'll have to go through me."

"Fine," you answered, walking forward and preparing to fight. Instead, the world around you began to spin and become disoriented. You gasped as you saw yourself in front of you and you walked forward.

Taking in your appearance, you gave out a broken sob as you saw how tired you looked. Your fingers were consumed by the dark magic of the book you needed, Loki's armour had started to crack, your circlet had darkened from Loki's gold to a disgusting murky grey with cracks in it.

"You're losing yourself," came the pleading voice again, your heart sinking as you realised that you were.

The lucidity of the moment didn't last long, however, as you saw many reflections of yourself appear. Realising it was a trick, you called your seiðr and pulled the reflections away. The mirrors cracked and you looked around timidly, firing off a blast that quickly rebounded and bounced off every reflection.

Wait! Reflections! Loki taught you something about reflections before.

"If you put your finger to a mirror and there's a space between you and your reflection's finger, that means it's a real mirror! If you see that your fingertips are touching, it's one way! Mother taught me that! Said that silly Vanir and Elves do it to trick unsuspecting people!" younger Loki giggled.

You rolled your eyes and pouted, "no way! Why would anyone wanna spy? Why can't they just keep to themselves like we do?"

Younger Loki shrugged and laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "don't worry, my precious girl, I will protect you."

You smiled and rested your head against his chest, grinning and rolling your eyes, "my hero."

Stepping forward, you pressed your hand to the shattered glass and found that there wasn't a gap between your hand and the reflections. Smirking, you dipped your hand through and cast a spell to disintegrate Stephen's sling ring before he used it to get America out of the sanctum.

How cute, you thought as some parts of the glass became blank. They were trying to cover the reflections. Finally, you found something big enough to crawl through, your body becoming disfigured as you pressed through but righting itself when you stood up.

Before you stood Wong, Stepehn and behind them, America.

"All those lives just to keep me from Loki and Haven," you sighed, walking to stand opposite the three of them.

"You took those lives. You cannot be allowed to cross into the Multiverse," Stephen replied, standing in front of America like a shield and you sighed.

"I'm not a monster, Stephen, I'm a mother," you remarked, feeling another wave of depression and pain wash over you.

"Y/N, you have no child and you don't have Loki, he's dead and Haven doesn't exist," Stephen breathed, trying to reason with you.

You smiled sadly and shook your head, "they're alive... I know they are... because I dream of them. Every. Night," you whispered, a tear dropping unknowingly as you summoned the DarkHold from your pocket dimension, "of my husband and the child we made together."

The Dark Hold opened to reveal whisps of other universes, rings of laughter and chaos filling the deathly silent room. You stared at one of the whisps, a universe in which Loki and you had moved away to the mountains to live alone and soon, raise your child. "Every night, the same dream," the book disappeared and more tears welled in your eyes, "and every morning, the same... nightmare..."

"What if you reach them? What happens to the other you?" Stephen asked, trying a different angle to attempt to make you see reason, "what happens to their wife and mother?"

You tried to keep a cool expression as images of killing the other version of you flashed behind your eyes, taking her place and finally being happy. You didn't understand why this was so hard for Stephen to understand, you just wanted to get Loki back and to have Haven! Why was that such a crime!?

You didn't expect his attack to come so when he shot two serpents at you, you only just had enough time to react and stop them. No matter how many times you beheaded them, however, they keep coming back. Stephen hissed as you continued to behead the serpents and you looked at him weirdly before overpowering him with a huge blast of green.

Lifting up into the air, green seiðr glowing around your hands, you threw Stephen away from America and grabbed her with red tendrils of magic, listening to her frightened screams. Wong attempted to attack you but you caught his daggers easily and threw them away, knocking him away easily.

You began to suck America's powers out of her body, the beautiful blue glow gave you the best feeling of elation that you had ever experienced. You were going to get your family back!

A portal was opening behind America as you kept stealing her power and you couldn't stop it when Stephen jumped through with America in his arms.

Seething, you used your magic to chain Wong up and begin setting up candles to dreamwalk. Once you were ready, you summoned the Dark Hold and began the ritual, floating in the air as you travelled to the universe where you felt America's power.

When you arrived, you were in a quaint cottage, your lesser version clearing up a bowl from Haven's lap and giving a kiss to Loki. When she walked into the kitchen, you latched onto her brain and took over.

The girl fought well, you'd give her that, but not well enough. Once you were in control, you sighed softly and headed to the back door.

"Y/N?" called a voice from the living room and you froze, your heart beating wildly as you registered Loki's peaceful voice.

"Yes, darling?" you called back, tears brimming in your eyes making it impossible to see straight.

"Where are you going?"

You thought of an excuse before you sighed and shrugged, "just to... take out the trash."

"Mama! Come here! Wanna show you somefink!" called the little voice of the child you would never have.

Gathering the courage, you walked into the living room to see Loki on the floor with Haven, both of their hands glowing with seiðr. You sobbed softly as you watched Narvi form a love heart in the air with sparkles around it.

Loki looked away from his daughter to face you and he frowned when he saw you crying. "Is everything alright, beloved?" he asked gently, standing up and hugging you from the side, resting your head on his shoulder.

Nodding, you cuddled into him and enjoyed his warmth.

Suddenly, pain washed over you and you were thrown backwards. You snapped away from the multiverse you were in and saw someone stabbing the Dark Hold. Your mind was still connected to the other you so you felt Loki's arms supporting you and the screams of your daughter.

"Darling? Darling are you alright?" Loki asked, worry clear on his face as he held you.

You watched as he slowly disappeared even if you gripped onto him and you clutched your heart as you sobbed before looking over at where the Dark Hold was, seeing it disintegrate underneath the blade.

"No, no, no!!" you sprinted over to the book, trying to find something to salvage but there was nothing. Angrily, you turned to Wong and blasted him away, stalking after his rolling body.

"I need the Dark Hold spells. You are the Sorcerer Supreme. Tell me what you know," you demanded, anger bubbling inside you as desire burned alongside it, desire to be back in the loving arms of your husband, to see your daughter's magic.

Wong spat out some blood as he glared at you, "you'll have to kill me, Witch."

"Not you, them," you threatened, lifting up the few survivors of Kamar-Taj, making them writhe in agony as Wong could only watch.

"Y/N stop. Y/N, please," Wong looked between you and the survivors before relenting, "the Dark Hold was a copy!"

You ceased the torture after that and looked towards Wong, "a copy?"

"Legend speaks of a mounted with the wretched spells you seek carved into its walls. It's there that the Dark Hold was transcribed. Mount Wundagore," Wong replied, guilt showing over his face as he sighed.

"Wundagore?" you whispered, hope brimming in your chest yet again at the prospect of seeing your child and husband again.

"No one has survived the journey," Wong revealed, hoping to distract you and keep you away with the threat.

You scoffed and summoned a sling ring from a dead sorcerer and gave it to Wong, darkness in your eye as you sneered, "perhaps we will be the exception."

You glared at Wong as he sighed and looked down at the sling ring, shaking his head and putting it on. You looked up at the sky, relief washing over you as you knew your wait was almost over, you would have America's power soon and you would be able to save Loki and bring Haven to life! You would do this. You needed him, you need him back so much.

~~~~~~~~~~

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

@lokisgoodgirl

@lokisninerealms

@evelyn-kingsley

@slpnbty2001

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#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki (marvel)#loki fluff #loki #loki smut #major character death #corrupted reader #replaced Wanda with Y/N oops #tom hiddleston #loki odinson #mcu loki

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november-rayne · 10 months

Text

Chapter Six: ILL-PREPARED

A/N: Loki faces the immediate consequences of his decision to flee from his responsibilities.

Word Count: 1100

Rating: Mature

Tags: Sick Loki, Epic hangover, Thor being a good brother

Chapter Index

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+ *Minors DNI*

Loki awoke to Thor slapping his face. “Wake up, you useless ass! I have let you sleep for as long as I could.” Thor gave his cheeks a couple more slaps for good measure. “Wake up! It is time to start getting ready.” Thor grabbed Loki’s wrists and swiftly pulled him to a sitting position.

He was in his bed back at the palace. Servants were bustling around the room, entering, and exiting the bathroom, cleaning, dusting, and fretting to get his apartment back in order. Loki watched the movement for a moment when his stomach suddenly lurched. He had no time to react before he vomited over the side of the bed, narrowly missing Thor’s boots.

“Fuck! Loki!” Thor quickly went to the other side of the bed and pulled him away from the putrid mess. “Loki! I need you to cooperate with me here. Our parents are on their way. They will throttle me for letting you get this bad. I was supposed to be keeping an eye on you. You are going to get me into so much trouble!”

“Kill me. Put me out of my misery. Death would be a welcome relief. Oh…” Loki dropped his head into his hands.

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it. Get up! You need to bathe and dress. We may get away with this if we can keep you upright for the next couple of hours.”

“Can’t… cannot move… dying.“ Loki squeezed his eyes closed and laid back down on the bed. “Tell Mother I am ill. Tell her it came on suddenly. Bring me some ale; it will make me feel better.”

“And Mother will send for the healers, and they will tell her you are not ill but drowning in your cups. What then, genius?” Thor pulled Loki up to sit again.

“Drink this!” Thor commanded, shoving a cup into his hand. He took a tentative sip and grimaced.

“What the bloody Hel is this?” he snarled, glaring down at the cup.

“It is water, you idiot! Drink!”

“The bath is ready, Your Highness,” a maid announced from the ensuite doorway.

“I can’t believe I am doing this.” Thor pulled Loki to his feet and slung one arm around his waist. “Can you walk? Lean on me.” He led him to the bathroom.

“I want him shining like a diamond. Wash his hair, trim his nails, and scrub him raw. And do it quickly. We do not have much time.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the maids responded in unison and set to work.

When he emerged from the bathroom an hour later, his rooms were fresh, clean, and calm. Only Thor remained; Loki heard him pacing in the sitting room.

He stopped in the bedroom to admire his reflection in the full-length mirror next to his wardrobe. He was given black leather trousers and a heavy black tunic with gold and green patterns embroidered on the sleeves. He wore a wide, black leather belt with a large gold buckle and scabbard decorated with gold and green serpents twinning around the outside. A forest green cape hung from his shoulders, secured by two gold clasps shaped like snakes.

Loki thought this was the finest ensemble he had ever worn.

He bristled when his gaze finally landed on his face. His cheeks and eyes were sunken, his skin had a corpse-like grey tint, and the dark purple rings under his eyes were pronounced. His lips were chapped and flakey. His usually pretty eyes were lifeless and bloodshot.

He pushed aside the high neck of the tunic to see the bites and scratches that trailed down the slim column of his neck. His hair looked thin and dull as it hung just above his shoulders. At least it is clean, he thought.

The seiðr was all but exhausted from his body. He was healing at a snail’s pace. He needed a warm meal and a good night’s sleep. He could not recall the last time he had eaten food or much else after receiving his mother’s first message.

‘I meet my wife today.’ Loki’s stomach lurched. The mixture of nerves and an epic hangover threatened to do him in at any moment. He raked a hand over his face. He took a few deep breaths and squeezed his eyes closed while he waited for the nausea to pass. He could not recall a time when he felt worse. He would be expected to be charming, regal, and handsome in just a few minutes as he publicly met his betrothed in front of the entire realm.

He flashed himself his most devastating smile and immediately cringed. He shook his head and raked his hand over his face again. A stranger was staring back at him in the mirror.

‘What have I done to myself?’ he thought. ‘The girl will run screaming back to the countryside. Perhaps she will refuse the marriage after getting a good look at me.’

He did his best to stride confidently from his bedroom, but the sudden demand for his body to move made him lightheaded, and he slammed into the doorframe with a thud.

Thor, pacing in front of the fireplace, jumped at the sound. “Norns, Loki!” He rushed to his brother’s side.

“I cannot do this today.” Loki rested his head on his forearm and pressed into the doorway.

“There is no choice! The entire palace, minus the two of us, is at the gate. All the realm has been invited to watch as Asgard welcomes the future princess! You could say it is kind of a big deal. Now,” Thor mimicked Loki’s hand gestures up and down his body, “seiðr yourself an illusion to make yourself look less… dead.”

“But if only I could, Brother.” Loki’s normally velvet-smooth voice came out croaky. “My seiðr is dim. I could not summon an illusion if my life depended on it. If only I could rest. If only I had more time.”

Thor’s face softened, and he placed one big hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Time is the only thing we do not have now, baby brother. We must get moving. Half dead or not, you will meet your future this day.”

That is all it took for Loki’s stomach to lurch again. Thor noticed his face change color and quickly grabbed the waste bin next to Loki’s writing desk and thrust it under his face just in time.

Loki retched. He heaved and heaved even after all the contents of his stomach were long gone. Thor grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wiped the sweat beading on his brother’s forehead. “Mother and Father will be murderous. We are both dead men walking.”

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#a gift for loki #loki fan fic #sas stories #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fanficiton #loki #loki smut #loki x sigyn #loki smut and fluff #loki fandom #agfl #loki au #logyn #logyn fanfic

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spncupcake · 1 year

Text

“Hey!”

Part 1 || Part 2

A/N: My first fanfic post on this account! I hope yall enjoy! Part Two will be tomorrow:)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: cursing, suggestive content

Prompt: Secret relationship

Word Count: 1,130

Don’t look.

Those two words kept repeating in your brain. Everyone was in the conference room for a debriefing after the mission you all had just returned from. Don’t look at Loki. Your brain was tired from the mission and to keep up with yourself afterwards? Exhausting. You had long ago drowned out Tony and Steve’s words in favour of daydreaming about sleep. Your eyes wandered around the room, not looking for anything in particular. Consciously, that is. You ended up doing what you kept telling yourself not to do. Ice blue eyes met yours, a small smirk gracing your boyfriend’s thin lips.

“Something the matter?” Tony called to you. Damn. You must’ve huffed out loud.

“Sorry, Tony. My brain is absolutely fried.”

“Very well, you’re dismissed for now.” He waved you off. Your mouth dropped open in shock. Tony never dismisses anyone for any reason. Nodding in thanks, you quickly stood and scraped the chair against the floor as you turned to leave. Reaching your suite in record time, you leaned against your door to catch your breath. Soon you were flipping yourself onto your bed, letting a sigh of relief out.

“Darling?” You jumped at the sudden noise, covering your mouth with a hand to suppress a yelp. “Are you alright?” A lazy smile grew on your face at Loki’s concern.

“Mmhm. The mission just really took a lot out of me this time around.” He walked towards you, gently sitting down beside you. You rolled over and wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing your face into his side. His long fingers carded through your hair, tenderly playing with the long strands over your face. “The others would kill to know how gentle you can be!” You laughed. Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You are the only exception to my harshness, darling.” You hummed in approval and slowly closed your eyes, relaxing under his gentle fingers.

“Nuh uh, my love. Come and lay with me?” He offered. You smirked at him as he kicked his shoes off, scooting up your bed to lean against the headboard and make way for your body to accompany him. Though you did have a different idea in mind as you straddled his thighs. His hands went to your waist on instinct, pulling you closer. Your chest touched his through the layers of clothes you had on.

“Did you seiðr a form of yourself up or just walk out because you think you own the place?”

“I’ll leave that for you to guess, darling. I’m sure it won’t be hard to figure out.” He snickered, running a slender finger across your jawline. You wiggled in his lap, hands around his neck as you leant forward to kiss him. His hands pushed under your shirt and splayed across your back, pushing you into him. The feeling of his cold hands on your naked skin made you shiver, a quick gasp escaping you. Both of you must not have heard the steps, voices and knocks outside of your door because soon your door swung open. Wanda and Natasha stood there, mouths open in disbelief at the scene before them. You had yelped out, pushing yourself off of Loki’s lap and almost falling off the bed. But you had a saviour quite close. Both of you climbed out of bed and stood several feet away from it.

“Holy shit?! You two?” Natasha spoke, louder than normal.

“Shush! I don’t want Tony finding out!”

“You realize he probably already knows?” Wanda spoke up. You cocked your head at her like a confused puppy. “I mean, have you two been sneaking around a lot outside of your suites?” Loki looked at you and you looked at Loki.

“I-I’m not entirely sure I remember.” You gulped.

“Ladies, please shut the door behind you. So as to not invite anyone else into this yet.” Loki demanded. Wanda swung the door shut with a finger. Loki nodded in thanks and then turned to you. “Darling? What about the other night?”

“What about it?” Natasha quizzed, crossing her arms. You flushed at the memory, swallowing a thick bit of saliva that had formed. Refusing eye contact with your friends, you eyed Loki. He sucked in a breath and opened his mouth.

“All I shall say is one room. The kitchen.” Loki bluntly spoke. Your neck felt like it was on fire and you wanted to hide behind Loki.

“Oh! Ew! That’s disgusting! Everyone of us eat there?!” Natasha growled.

“Oh, God! No, no. It wasn’t like, full on or anything, Nat!” You quickly defended.

“That’s good. Maybe Tony doesn’t know anything. Let’s keep this between us, yea? If anything I could always scrap that footage from that night?” Wanda offered. Loki’s hand went around your waist and pulled you close.

“Thank you, Wanda.” You looked up at Loki and he gave you a small smile. “Yea, could you do that for us?” You looked back at the girls. Wanda nodded and smiled. Natasha gagged at yours and Loki’s interaction.

“I can never look at you two the same again!” She huffed, throwing her arms into the air. You giggled at her dramatic ass, Loki even letting a chuckle slip through. The moment was suddenly interrupted with a loud and hard banging on your door. All four of your heads jerked towards the sound.

“Hey! Are you alright in there?” Tony yelled.

“What do we do?!” You mouthed to all of them.

“We’ll hide in the bathroom!” Natasha replied, pulling Wanda with her. You looked up at Loki in desperation.

“No worries, darling. Let him in. I’ll hide!” He bent to give you a quick kiss and vanished in front of your eyes.

“Yea? Tony, I’m alright!” You smiled as you opened the door. He blinked down at you, millions of questions swimming in his eyes - you could see them. Literally.

“I heard voices. Are you not alone?”

“Oh, uh. Nat is here. She’s using the bathroom!”

“I heard a man’s voice.”

You scratched at your wrists, panic starting to work you up. “Nat was imitating Steve!” A nervous laugh bubbled past your lips and you cursed yourself. Tony was seeing right through you for sure. Fuck.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour.” He said as he left your room. You heaved a sigh of relief, shutting the door behind him and slumping against the wood.

“Darling?” You turned towards Loki, silently looking up at him. His hands softly grabbing at your shoulders and rubbing to comfort you. “Everything will be alright. Trust me, okay?” He lifted a hand to your cheek, a thumb rubbing right under your eye.

“Can you two please stop this?” Natasha groaned. You jumped at her intrusion, forgetting her and Wanda were still there.

“Sorry!”

#marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki god of mischief #loki marvel #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki fanfic

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purposefulloki · 3 years

Text

Hey!

AN: My first fanfic post in this account! I hope yall enjoy! Part Two will be tomorrow:)

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Cursing

Prompt: Secret Relationship with Loki

Word Count: 1,130

Don’t look.

“Something the matter?” Tony called to you. Damn. You must’ve huffed out loud.

“Sorry, Tony. My brain is absolutely fried.”

“Darling?” You jumped at the sudden noise, covering your mouth with a hand to suppress a yelp. “Are you alright?” A lazy smile grew on your face at Loki’s concern.

“You are the only exception to my harshness, darling.” You hummed in approval and slowly closed your eyes, relaxing under his gentle fingers.

“Did you seiðr a form of yourself up or just walk out because you think you own the place?”

“Holy shit?! You two?” Natasha spoke, louder than normal.

“Shush! I don’t want Tony finding out!”

“I-I’m not entirely sure I remember.” You gulped.

“All I shall say is one room. The kitchen.” Loki bluntly spoke. Your neck felt like it was on fire and you wanted to hide behind Loki.

“Oh! Ew! That’s disgusting! Everyone of us eat there?!” Natasha growled.

“Oh, God! No, no. It wasn’t like, full on or anything, Nat!” You quickly defended.

“Hey! Are you alright in there?” Tony yelled.

“What do we do?!” You mouthed to all of them.

“We’ll hide in the bathroom!” Natasha replied, pulling Wanda with her. You looked up at Loki in desperation.

“No worries, darling. Let him in. I’ll hide!” He bent to give you a quick kiss and vanished in front of your eyes.

“Yea? Tony, I’m alright!” You smiled as you opened the door. He blinked down at you, millions of questions swimming in his eyes - you could see them. Literally.

“I heard voices. Are you not alone?”

“Oh, uh. Nat is here. She’s using the bathroom!”

“I heard a man’s voice.”

“Dinner will be ready in an hour.” He said as he left your room. You heaved a sigh of relief, shutting the door behind him and slumping against the wood.

“Can you two please stop this?” Natasha groaned. You jumped at her intrusion, forgetting her and Wanda were still there.

“Sorry!”

#loki layfeyson x reader #loki fan fiction #loki drabble #loki fic #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki #loki fluff

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Curse of the Witches

Loki meets a witch one night by moonlight. He speaks to her in an ancient cavern and learns to love her, even as he swore to himself that a weakness like that was just for the Midgardians. It is a pity, then, that she will make him feel weaker than he has in centuries.

masterlist

The celebrations have barely begun, yet they’re already starting to run dry.

It’s not like Asgard is a place that doesn’t know revelry. The long golden halls were practically designed for feasts and gatherings, the coffers always full for flagons of mead that never seem to run dry. It all culminates in a tidal wave of wealth and splendor, one that seems willing to drown any visitor whole. Loki, however, has had a lifetime to step out of the tide. He does so now.

Maybe it’s his pride talking, telling him to leave before he grows too tired of the gathering. Thor has won another conquest or defeated another monster, the same old story. From the second he burst through the doors, hammer held triumphantly to the sky, the cheers could drown out even his brother’s thunder. It’s a scene Loki has seen many times before, mere details changing with each telling and occurrence. Perhaps that is why he finds himself slipping away.

Loki has perfected the art of disappearing. The larger the crowds, the easier it is to disguise yourself among them. Technically, he shouldn’t be able to do this at all. He is the son of a king, a god in his own right and the brother of the hero they’re all celebrating today. But Loki has always stood aside, never quite adhering to the same mold of glory and grandeur that his brother wears like a second skin.

Some days, this wears on him like a blade. Today, however, Loki is fine with it. Let him step away, let him not be seen. Today is not a day for chastened anger. His footsteps echo through the halls, growing louder as the din of the celebrations fades behind him. He receives a few stray stares from Asgardians still making their way to the hall, curious as to why an Odinson would be leaving a festival instead of arriving, but few pay him any mind.

The brisk air of the night is a tonic against the heated fervor of the golden halls. Loki pulls his emerald robes closer around him, letting the cloth spare the cool metal of his armor from the wind. He’s a Frost Giant, of course, the cold has never been more than a hindrance, but he likes to put on the illusion of being just like all the others. Illusions have been his specialty for a long time, at least this one is a charade he can keep up.

Loki lets his feet wander the grounds, carrying him further and further from the light spilling out from the grand palace. The night still clings to the scene, an inky darkness pooling around the trees and golden spires of buildings all around him. Loki has probably wandered every inch of this gilded city, but today he chooses to stray further from the towering buildings and instead into the thick outcroppings of forest that surround the palace.

He is not expecting to see anyone here. The Asgardians are besotted with their golden prince, the heir to the throne and the glorious son of Odin. He is the making of the myths, the one they flock to when there are problems to be had. Loki, on the other hand, is the silver to the gold, the biting frost that must follow every prosperous summer. He has had millennia to come to terms with his status as a shadow; tonight, it serves him well. Every single thing in all the worlds can be used as a tool or a weapon, even the rumors. Let no one see him here.

There is a certain corner of the forest he must visit tonight, the one spot in Asgard that stubbornly refuses to yield its secrets to him. There is a cave carved out of the rock face further along the many cliffs that line the area. They say it was built by the practitioners of seiðr, ancient Asgardian witches who could operate even out of Odin’s watchful eye. The Allfather may be a god of magic himself, but there are always scraps of witchcraft that cannot be controlled.

It reminds Loki of himself. Maybe that is why he travels there tonight, walks and walks until he is standing before the rock face. It is blank of any markings or openings, with nothing to indicate that it would ever be a remnant of seiðr. But Loki is of magic borne, and he can hear the last indications of spells spiraling out from the rock. He presses his palm against the cool surface of the cliff face, searching for some form of entrance. The rock remains stubbornly bare.

“If you’re looking for a way in, you won’t find one that easily.”

Loki turns with a start. He hadn’t heard the woman step out of the forest, despite his heightened senses as a god. It’s as if she had materialized out of thin air. Doing his best to conceal his surprise, Loki cocks an eyebrow at her. “And why would that be?” A faint smirk appears on the woman’s lips. “You’re not of seiðr blood. It won’t come to you.” Loki folds his arms across his chest. “I’m assuming, then, that you are. Why else would you be here?”

The woman elegantly lifts a shoulder. “Maybe I’m hiding from the prince’s festivities. Same as you, actually. What, does an Odinson not care for the celebrations of his brethren?” Loki rolls his eyes. “They’re gaudy and boring. Is it that much of a surprise that one among many would not find them that appealing?” His eyes flicker across the woman’s form. “I mean, other than you, of course.”

The woman lets out a short laugh. It ripples through the night, disappearing into the cool air like a stroke of moonlight. “It appears we might have more in common than we first thought.” Loki considers this. “Perhaps. Does that mean you’re going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to exchange witty banter back and forth the entire night? I’m not opposed to either option.”

The woman grins at that. “I am the Lady Y/N. That is all you may know.” Loki steps forward, intrigued. “A mystery. How dashing. I assume that you know my name, so I will ask another question: Are you able to get past the rock barrier, or did you come here to just warn me away?” Y/N eyes him cautiously. “The cave is a secret of the seiðr witches. It is not a door to be opened to anyone.” Loki nods, but Y/N isn’t finished speaking. “That’s why we’ll have to be careful not to alert anyone to our presence. Coming?”

Loki allows a broad grin to cross his face. “I think I like you.” Y/N’s eyes flash in the night. “How wonderful.” She steps past him to stand before the rock face, extending her hand to lay it lightly upon the cliff. She furrows her brow in concentration, and then light billows out of her palm, cascading upon the rock. It seems to flow out of her veins, centering around her hand before being directed to the cliff. This must be seiðr, if Y/N is a practitioner.

After a moment of this, a faint symbol appears in light against the cliff, and then an entire section of the rock face peels away, revealing a circular entrance to a cave. Y/N spares a glance over her shoulder. “Well?” She doesn’t have to ask him twice. Loki follows her inside, although he can’t help but notice the way she shakes her sleeve over her hand, wincing slightly as if the stone had cut her. The motion is deliberate, clearly hiding something, and so Loki decides not to pursue the subject. It would not do to alienate Y/N and have her remove his only means of escape from the cave.

And what a cave it is: towering ceilings almost as tall as his father’s halls, shimmering stone that seems to go on for all eternity. Even from the first few steps, Loki can tell that the place practically reeks of magic. This must be where seiðdr was performed, where the witches came to cast their spells and increase their strength. It fascinates Loki, perhaps more than it should. Then again, he’s always been in search of power. This is just a place where power comes to temper into something darker than before.

As they walk further into the cave, the lights begin to fade away. In a few steps, the cave will be plunged into darkness, so Y/N extends her hand once more. Light beams pour from her fingers again, casting a white glow about the rock. This time, however, she is unable to hide her flinch, or the way her power seems to turn in on herself, swarming down her arm and turning as black as pitch.

Loki rushes to her side, but Y/N waves him away. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Loki scoffs. “You are clearly not fine. You practically collapsed. What happened?” Y/N grimaces. “It’s a long story.” Loki counters. “I have the millennia to hear it.” Y/N looks at him closely, as if trying to search him for signs of a possible reaction. At last, she apparently deems him worthy, and gestures for him to walk closer to her as they continue down the cave.

“It’s my power. It’s slowly bleeding me dry. See, my mother was a witch with a bone to pick. She performed some ritual or cast some spell to help Odin when he needed aid. In return, she demanded a favor- she wanted Odin to make her human lover a god, to grant him the same powers so they could be immortal through seiðr forever. Odin knew better than to grant a witch what she wanted most, but he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of her, so he instead granted the powers to me. She wasn’t specific with her request, see, she just asked that her love be given magic. I was just born by then, so he interpreted that to mean me.”

She sighs, kicking at a loose pebble with her foot. Dust settles over her silver sandals. “Odin knew what he was doing. I was born a demigod, closer to mortal, with no strength to bear the power. I was born too weak to take it, and so it’s killing me. Magic wasn’t made for me, and it shall cause my death in the end. My mother hates me for it, and so the tenure of the spell is weak- if the powers were given to the love of my mother, and she no longer loves me, then the magic is even weaker than before. I can use the magic, but it’ll kill me eventually.”

Loki feels something strange in his chest when she says this, like he wants to do something to take away her pain, make her chin lift with that same fierce energy again. Some tiny part of himself thinks that it might be sympathy, or caring, but Loki has always been well beyond that. Yet, when he sees her swallow harshly as if to push aside the ghosts of her past, some force inside Loki makes him speak.

“I am- sorry.” He’s not entirely sure why he’s apologizing, or if it will do any good, but Y/N glances over at him with a faint smile once more. “You know, of all the people to tell me that, I think you’re the only one who actually means it. Strange that the god of trickery would be that honest.” Loki forces a smirk. “Maybe I’m tricking you now.” Y/N tilts her head, considering this. “Maybe. But I don’t think you are.” She is right.

Loki finds himself visiting Y/N after that night, even when the festivities at the Asgardian palace are actually interesting and people do witness him leave. He keeps stealing away, keeps chasing that unfamiliar high of smiling with someone that actually understands him, and doesn’t try to compare him to anyone else.

He is not sure when he realizes he loves her, only that it is a truth that will always be so. He kisses her in the forest, near when they first met, and gives her an emerald cloak just like his when she starts to get so cold that it feels like she’ll never be warm. For every moment they have together, full of peace and genuine happiness, there are more when her powers truly start to ruin her and she can barely move at all.

Loki is at her side when she dies. He is at her side in the years before then, eternities to mortals but barely a speck in the neverending streak of time to a god. He can’t help but wish that he had more time, but for once, his immortality lets him down. He holds her hand, feels her pulse slowly leave her. He speaks to her until she can hear no more, stories of the gods and all the places they’d seen. He hears her laugh, strong no more but as brittle as ice.

At last, she is still. Loki does not move from her bed for hours, maybe even days. The funeral is quiet, as she requested. Family, friends, him. Loki watches her pyre, watches the smoke curl into the heavens. He has the distant memory as he watches the darkness of the smoke, remembering the way she’d cast forth the light in that cave when they’d first met. He remembers that he was going to ask her to be his wife, to stay with him. He has no ties to Asgard any longer.

There’s a simmering rage left in him, long after the mournful grief burns away. All he can think of is everything Y/N wanted to do, everything they wanted to do together, all the plans they made. She wanted to see Midgard, even when Loki had sworn up and down that it was nowhere as beautiful as the stories made it out to be. They’d heard rumors of gatherings of witches all along the coastlines on the different worlds, and promised to map them out, to meet every single one of them. They were her brethren now, and she had wished to meet them. Loki had wanted to take her there, to take her anywhere.

Loki slides a knife out into his palm. It’s a cool, calculating metal, tip sharp enough to rend even the air apart. Y/N had given it to him two years after they had first met. A gift, she’d laughed, and one that I know you’ll use. She was right again- Loki intends to use it quite a bit. His first targets are the ones who had brought her low, refused her aid when her powers had begun to kill her. Loki intends to kill them all. An eye for an eye.

Years later, when his revenge has been completed and he has been brought home again, Loki lies dying on the floor of a ship traveling through space. Thor, with close-cropped hair and a patch covering his right eye, kneels over his body. Blood leaks from Loki’s mouth and nose, although he cannot feel the pain. Instead, a smile flickers over his lips. “I can see her, Thor. I can see her again.” Loki’s hand twitches by his side, barely moving at all. In his mind, he’s reaching out, towards a young woman with a dazzling smile.

Welcome home, Loki. We’re together again.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise, @underc0vercryptid

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solvskrift · 3 years

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fic: turn it all off (and put me under) (also on ao3)

Loki doesn't show up to be Asgard's savior. He doesn't even make it off Sakaar. At least, not on board the Statesman. Whumptober Prompt #23: You Break It, You Buy It | auction + pursuit

“Three hundred thousand, have I got three hundred?”

Loki stood perfectly still at the front of the hall, just as he had been told. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the words. He was barefoot and naked to the waist, hands bound behind his back. The Grandmaster had taken away the blue leather trousers that belonged to the set he’d had made for Loki all those weeks ago and replaced them with a pair of black ones, thinner and simpler in style. They were trimmed with green, and faint touches of gold to match the band around Loki’s throat.

“To bring out your – lovely features,” the Grandmaster had said as he traced a fingertip along the tender skin under Loki’s eye.

----

The Grandmaster slipped it on, reaching around the back of Loki’s neck to clasp it shut. “Now,” he said, running a soothing hand over Loki’s flank as though he were calming a spooked horse. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Loki couldn’t answer from where he was pinned to the wall by the force of the ancient magic the Grandmaster wielded so effortlessly. His mouth felt like it had been sealed shut. He made himself shake his head, as much as he could.

“I don’t, uh, understand why you’re making such a big fuss about this, honey, I really don’t. You’re the one who tried to leave me, remember? There are worse things I could do, I’m sure you – um, realize that. Huh?”

Loki nodded automatically, knowing the response the Grandmaster required, while he reached desperately for his own magic. It would not answer. He could feel it churning inside of him, but it seemed to have forgotten how to break the surface.

The Grandmaster chuckled as if he knew full well what Loki was attempting to do, and ran a finger over the snug golden band. “Uh-uh-uh…sorry, sweetheart, I truly – truly am. But it just had to be done. You’re too much of a wild card, you know, you’ve proven that.” He stepped back and sighed fondly. “Now, you’re not gonna try to fight me again, are you?”

Ice pumped through Loki’s veins, and his mind sped off in a thousand different directions, examining every angle of his unfortunate situation, searching for some way – any way – out of it. Very slowly, he shook his head.

The force holding Loki against the wall disappeared. He straightened up cautiously, eyes trained on the Grandmaster.

“Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way – time for you to meet dear brother mine.”

----

Loki did not so much as allow himself to twitch as the auctioneer – a species he thought he recognized from the second quadrant of Muspelheim’s galaxy – slammed his giant fist on the metal podium. The young Xandarian woman who had just sold for half-a-million units was led, shaking, from the dais and taken through a side door. One of the Grandmaster's colorfully dressed guards poked Loki viciously in the back, and he stepped forward. He dug his nails into his palms behind his back, keeping his face utterly blank. He forced himself not to look in the direction of the Grandmaster, or his brother.

Carefully, so as to project profound disinterest instead of panic, Loki let his eyes roam over the room, instinctively looking for any possible escape route. There were none. He could try to run. But without his seiðr to help him, bound and surrounded by guards and a roomful of interested patrons as he was, it was a great deal more than hopeless. He would never make it to a door, and if he did he would certainly never make it off the ship.

Loki caught the Grandmaster making a gesture out of the corner of his eye, and the auctioneer spread his arms wide. He rattled off the Grandmaster’s pre-approved description of the – item for sale, Loki thought, his jaw clamping down savagely – and Loki tuned it out, only vaguely aware of increased murmuring at words like prince and shifter. And Jötunheim.

“Esteemed guests, we start the bidding at twenty million.”

----

The door opened, and Loki could not stop himself falling back a step.

“Lo-Lo, I’d like you to meet my brother – Taneleer Tivan.”

Loki knew very well who he was.

The Collector. The creature who stocked his display cases with rare objects and living beings alike. Loki stood rooted to the spot, and this time he did not need the Grandmaster’s power to make him stay. He might have been made out of solid marble for all his body wanted to obey his mind’s screams to flee.

Tivan hummed in a breathy sort of way. He took another step forward into Loki’s space and put a single finger to his jaw, turning his head this way and that. “Mmm, he is…pretty,” he began disinterestedly, “but I have no need of an – Asgardian.”

The Grandmaster blinked long and slow, grinning. “Oh, there’s much more to this one than meets the eye. Right, sweetheart?”

Loki swallowed. He commanded himself to throw off the Collector’s touch. To look around the quarters for a knife, for anything sharp enough to sever a couple of jugulars. He didn’t move.

“Loki here was, uh, adopted,” the Grandmaster went on. “He might smell like an Asgardian, but um – go ahead and jump a few species over.”

Tivan’s expression remained deceptively bored and his finger dropped away from Loki’s jaw, but his eyebrows rose towards his hairline.

The Grandmaster placed his palm flush to Loki’s neck. Loki knew what was going to happen, what he was going to do, and no longer knew if it was his own terror or an outside force keeping him nailed to the floor. He could feel the change spread across his skin – the air around him seemed to warm. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the room’s mirrors, a stain of blue, a flash of red, and he slammed his eyes shut.

It took everything in him to wrench them back open, knowing even that small tell of discomfort was valuable information in the wrong hands.

The Grandmaster put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and leaned in close to his ear, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “Fffrost giant.” His tongue tapped out the ‘t’s with extra emphasis.

Loki felt like he was going to vomit.

“A natural-born shapeshifter,” the Grandmaster explained with a lopsided leer. “Quite a talented one…”

Tivan’s shoulders shook in an approximation of a shudder. His dull eyes ranged over Loki again, from his toes to the top of his head.

The Grandmaster’s voice grew even quieter, hardly a whisper. “Not to mention a, um, powerful – ah – magic user.”

Tivan let out another one of those breathy hums. “Forty million units.”

The Grandmaster scoffed and clucked his tongue. “Tan. Tan, Tan, Tan, I’m just givin’ you the – the sneak peek! A little family perk.” He removed his hand from Loki’s neck, and Loki felt his skin shift back to pale white. Despite his terror, a grateful lump rose in the back of his throat. “But I know – I know! – you’ve got a lot more than that, you’ll have to duke it out with the rest of ‘em. Can’t let my sweet little Lo-Lo go for forty million.” He gave Loki a conspiratorial wink. “Even if you did help your brother and my champion escape and start a revolution.” Loki bit down on his tongue, though he burned to explain again that he hadn’t actually meant for any of that to happen. The Grandmaster wagged a finger at him, half-turning to his brother. “He’s the reason we’re on this ship, you know – well,” he broke off, flapping his hands. “He knows what he did, he knows what he did.”

Loki did know.

Loki knew, too, that he should have slain the Grandmaster in his sleep when he had the chance.

----

“Seventy-eight million, I have seventy-eight, do I hear eighty? Eighty million in the back, do we have eighty-five?”

The hulking being who raised his hand at eighty-five million had a brutal set to his face, and Loki felt perversely thankful when his selling price was driven higher in a different direction. The number climbed steadily. Loki tried for what seemed like the hundredth time to stretch out and grab hold of his seiðr, but it continued to elude him. It was a twisted sort of relief that his wrists were bound and he could not reach up and claw at the band around his throat. He did not know if he would have been able to stop himself otherwise. It only would have ended in punishment. The despair he had been choking down began to climb up through his chest, dragging the air out of his lungs.

Against his will, Loki’s eyes flicked over to the Collector sat not twenty feet away in the front row at the Grandmaster’s right side. As if this had been some sort of cue, the Collector raised a lazy hand into the air.

“Five hundred.”

The auctioneer paused, uncertain. “Five hundred…million?” he clarified.

The Collector gave a slow blink and inclined his chin. Beside him, the Grandmaster crossed his arms and legs and leaned back in his chair with a wide grin on his face, tongue between his teeth.

“We have five hundred million!”

The despair swelled and crashed over Loki in a great black flood as he realized there had never been any other possible outcome to this charade. It had simply been a game the Grandmaster had wanted to play, only another amusing way to torture Loki for costing him his champion, his games, his planet—

There was not a single soul who knew where Loki had ended up (or where he was going to end up) let alone any who would care in the least to come looking for him. His – elder sister – had certainly obliterated Thor and his company of rebel misfits by now. Who else, what else was left to him? There was no one coming to save him. There would be no rescue. Tivan sat up a bit straighter in his seat, the ghost of a smile brightening his perpetually bored expression, and Loki saw the fate that was carved into stone and laid before him as sharp and clear as a vision. Put on display in a glass cage, chained and stripped of his magic, reduced to a thing, a curiosity. A slave.

Loki would have gladly taken the dungeons of Asgard, or the Grandmaster’s bed, in place of the sentence he now faced.

The Collector’s lips twitched in satisfaction in the silence that followed his bid, and one final moment of clarity brought that black wave surging up to suffocate Loki at last, sealing him inside his ruin.

Taneleer Tivan, he recalled with the dying of his last ember of hope, presided over more than an eclectic assortment of the universe’s oddities. He had been entrusted, too, with the keeping of the Aether – and it would sing as a siren to the Mad Titan who listened closely to its call.

The hand came down, striking the metal podium with a clang that echoed around the hall. The sound of an axe Loki had expected long ago finally falling.

“Sold!”

#whumptober2021 #no.23 #marvel #loki #fic #solv fic #human trafficking #slavery #past dubcon/noncon #sorry for this one i guess?#i'm not really #would like to formally apologize to loki though sorry sweet boy #perhaps you'll be rescued in a sequel

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

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The Governess and the Liesmith - Chapter Four

FIC SUMMARY: Sigyn finds herself accepting the position of governess to Prince Loki’s children. She quickly endears herself to them, despite her firm hand, but the closeness and trust she worked so hard for is threatened by the return of the children’s notoriously absent father. RATING: T AUTHORS NOTES: This is the last completed chapter I have and I can't possibly say when the next one will be ready (considering it took me four years to get to this point). If you have any thoughts on what you'd like to see (other than Loki at some point :P), things you'd like Sigyn and the children to do etc, feel free to add them in the comments. Who knows, they might inspire me to be to churn out a few new paragraphs ;) Thanks for the love and the continued support xoxox

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Sigyn heard the children long before she saw them, the group babbling excitedly to each other as they made their way into the nursery. Queen Frigga followed, smiling to herself as her grandchildren immediately made the most of their free time. For Einmyria and Jörmungandr it meant jumping onto their respective beds with a new book on seiðr brought back from their lessons, for the other children it meant playing with dolls and building blocks and, in Eisa’s case, trying to set them on fire without anyone noticing. A raised eyebrow and a stern look from both Sigyn and Queen Frigga stopped her cold but Sigyn knew perfectly well which of the older women her new charge was showing deference to.

“The uniform fits well, I take it,” Queen Frigga noted happily as she gave Sigyn a once over.

“Yes, it fits perfectly, your majesty. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, though I still think I should be thanking you,” she said, her eyes moving over her assembled grandchildren. “It’s no easy task I have assigned you.”

“Perhaps not,” Sigyn conceded. “But I will endeavour to take care of them to the best of my abilities. Whether they like it or not,” she added under her breath, earning an unladylike snort of laughter from her queen.

“I wish you the best of luck,” the queen said before stepping forward to say goodnight to the children. “Please be good for Sigyn,” she added sternly before taking her leave.

Left alone with her new charges, Sigyn did her best to ignore her nerves as she wandered about the room attempting to engage the children in casual conversation hoping to learn more about them. Eisa, Hela, and Fenrir were building a tower out of blocks - a grand castle in their minds, and were playing out mock battles and daring rescues with their toys. Eisa always played the queen (or the enchantress, or the poor scullery maid who was really a princess), Fenrir always played the brave hero (who always had a loyal warwolf at his side), and Hela always played the evil monster who was secretly good (or cursed, or just scared of the hero). She asked Jörmungandr and Einmyria about the books they were reading and the things they learnt with their grandmother, and while Jörmungandr all but ignored her questions claiming she wouldn’t understand, Einmyria became almost as animated as her sister as she recalled the new spell she had learnt and talked at length about the famous witch in her book.

Their conversation had to be tabled when six bells chimed throughout the wing, signaling the arrival of children’s dinner. With slightly less grumbling than there had been at lunch Sigyn managed to get the children to wash up and seated just as the kitchen maids had finished setting the table.

Sigyn thanked the maids as they headed for the door, and after she pointedly cleared her throat at her charges they followed her example. “Thank you!”

The meal was more or less as chaotic as dinner with her own siblings and made Sigyn terribly homesick. If she had known when she had left that morning that she wasn’t going to be returning she would have hugged them all so tightly before she left. With a soft sigh she shook off her feelings of nostalgia and focused on her charges as she made short work of her own meal.

By the time Sigyn had set down her cutlery the children had all but finished too. Fenrir had licked his own plate clean and was now finishing off the meat that Einmyria had pushed to the side of her plate, Eisa had made a paste out of her roasted pumpkin but Sigyn suspected she hadn’t eaten a bite of it, and Hela was grimacing as she bravely tried to finish her green beans.

“All done?” Sigyn asked, putting poor Hela out of her misery. “Then I think it’s bathtime.”

Thirty minutes later five squeaky clean children and one drowned rat of a governess exited the bathroom.

Sigyn instigated quiet time to run out the clock before bedtime. Einmyria and Jörmungandr returned to their books while Eisa and Fenrir huddled on the floor between their two beds with their toys. Hela tugged on Sigyn’s skirts, leading her over to her bed. Sigyn helped the girl up onto her bed and helped her get comfy. Hela patted a space next to her encouraging Sigyn to take a seat next to her. Before Sigyn could ask her what she wanted Hela pulled a well worn book of fairy tales out from under her pillow.

“Would you read me a story?” Hela asked.

Sigyn took the children’s storybook in hand, tentatively opening it to the first page, her eyes stumbling over the title.

“I’m afraid I don’t know my letters very well,” Sigyn confessed quietly, her body tensing as she felt five pairs of eyes staring back at her.

“You can’t read?” Einmyria exclaimed in utter horror, hugging her own book tightly.

“What did you expect?” Jörmungandr snorted. “She’s just a stupid farm girl.”

“I am not stupid,” Sigyn replied coldly. “I know how to shoe a horse, milk a cow, mend clothes, and plow a field. I know when to plant seeds and when to harvest crops. I can hunt game and prepare it for eating. I know how to make bread, cheese, stews, and dozens of other things. Just because I didn’t read about such things in books does not make me stupid.”

Jörmungandr broke eye contact first, burying his nose in his own book. The heavy silence that followed was broken by a curious Fenrir.

"You can really hunt game?"

"Trapping rabbits mostly. Sometimes pheasants.”

"Fenrir caught a rabbit once in wolf form. And ate it raw," Einmyria shook her head in disgust.

"I didn't mean to," Fenrir whined. "It made me sick for a week."

"Well, perhaps next time, once you've caught the rabbit you should turn back into a boy and cook it first."

"You know how to cook rabbit?"

"Of course."

“Can you make biscuits?”

Sigyn had to stifle a laugh. “Of course. I like making ginger snap cookies, but my favourite thing to make is a steamed pudding with homemade raspberry jam.”

“Now I’m hungry again,” Fenrir huffed, burrowing into his blankets.

Sigyn did laugh then but settled down when a small hand touched hers.

“I could read it to you, if you want?” Hela offered nervously, unable to meet Sigyn’s eyes, her fingers picking at the worn edges of the much loved book.

“I would like that very much,” Sigyn replied earnestly, her smile growing wider as Hela moved to give Sigyn space on her bed. “What is the book called?”

“East of the Sun and West of the Moon,” Hela recited slowly, following the words with a small finger as she read them out. She turned the page and pointed to the first sentence. “Do you know what that says?”

“Those words I know,” Sigyn smiled. “Once upon a time.”

Hela nodded in agreement before repeating them and then reading aloud until her eyes grew heavy towards the end of the first chapter. Eight bells chimed and Sigyn marked the page with a ribbon, and Hela was asleep before Sigyn had put the book away. Sigyn tucked her in and then went around the room securing the windows, dimming the lights, tucking the rest of the children in and prying books from more stubborn hands.

“It’s past eight bells, Jörmungandr. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” he grumbled petulantly.

“But you will be tomorrow if you don’t go to sleep now,” Sigyn countered, waiting patiently by his bed until he handed over the heavy book with a long title Sigyn wasn’t even going to attempt to read. “Goodnight,” she said as she exited the room earning a few sleepy ‘goodnights’ and one angry huff in return.

Sigyn closed the nursery doors and then moved to the main doors. There was no lock or barring mechanism that she could see so instead she pulled the doors open and stuck her head out.

“Yes, miss?” an older guard stationed outside the door queried.

“Do they not secure the nursery doors at night?”

“No need, miss. It’s the most secure wing of the castle and only guards handpicked by Odin himself are stationed outside the royal bedchambers at night.”

“Only the most loyal and trustworthy, I take it.”

“Naturally, miss.”

“You can call me Sigyn. And your name would be?”

“Amund, Miss Sigyn,” he teased. “Gunnarr and I are on night duty this month,” he added, nodding to the younger, more serious guard stationed across the way.

“Well met,” Sigyn greeted before turning back to Amund. “The children are abed and I will be turning in shortly as well. You are not to permit entry to anyone until morning.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Sigyn.”

“Goodnight,” Sigyn smiled and pulled the doors closed, checking the nursery door one last time before retreating to her own room. She undressed and hung up her uniform to dry, changing into an old nightgown from home. It was soft in a way that only a garment worn every night for a year could be but it still could not compare to the silky softness of the sheets on her new bed. Sigyn rested her head on the plump pillow and was asleep in seconds.

TAGGING: @storylover92 @marveil @dreamdancer19 @thefangirl33 @anonanonfrances @contains-cinnamon @jackiattacki @sarabeth72 @hiddlestoncentral @annamegatron @angelus80 @dearmisterhiddles @writernotwaiting @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @hallotom @mrshiddelston @lolomonster @bellafagoaga1812 @stormieandateacup @beautifullydamned16 @hardtopickausername @lorrmorr @antyc67 @ladyninasayers-ish @ladymirtilla @marvelousmissfit @yoursophiebelle @xunconquerableheartx @iamwhoidecidetobe @tinaferraldo @larouau12 @hiddles-is-a-fallen-angel @lokilockedcougar @pollution-brown-eyes @loveshiddles4everme @mrsmalcontent @just-call-me-your-darling @inkededucatednnerdy @vampire-marie @whenweareallalone @captain-biryani @larouau12 @sweetsigyn @scarlettsoldier @mypreciousmind1 @wonderinthewoods @thecrownedrose @ohbvcks @echantedbytwh @omninocte @texmexdarling

#the governess and the liesmith #loki/sigyn #logyn #loki #sigyn #loki's kids #freudensteins-fics

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hel-awaits · 3 years

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#Repost @jdbunch • • • • • • @oreamnosoddities made an excellent post about this guy and I couldn’t agree more. You should click over and read the entire post. I too have received questions about this “Q Shaman” guy. The only thing I want to add is that I’m hearing a lot of bullshit on social media about how his tattoos are white nationalist tattoos, they absolutely are not. I will never sit silently and see my deepest beliefs dragged through the mud that way. I proudly wear the Valknut right over my heart as an oath and dedication to Odin, and I’ll fight anyone who attempts to call it a Nazi tattoo. Not that it necessarily matters, but it should probably be noted as well that as big as a criminal dipshit this guy is, he seems to be a cracked conspiracy theorist and not a white nationalist. As Joseph Campbell famously said "The psychotic drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight." Sadly, this individual belongs in the camp of the former. #norsepagan #heathen #heathenism #norsemythology #asatru #odinism #odin #norns #runes #norsepaganism #pagan #seidr #seiðr #vitki #galdr #norsewitch #völva #norseshaman #ancestorworship #heathenry #paganism #goði #godi #viking #norse #polytheism #polytheist #valknut #heathensagainsthate https://www.instagram.com/p/CJwUJ3yHM_f/?igshid=vws2i5kyqoae

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drowningseidr · 4 years

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Pinned Post !! (subject to change)

An oc aesthetic, inspo, art, lore, and development blog (not an rp blog!!) feat. a metal band made up of Norse demigods set in modern times Asks are welcomed!

Check out these links for more info: About me/disclaimers || the Universe || Drowning Seiðr

#all the lore/bios are forever wips & subject to change #come get ur lore #pinned post #zed's art

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ariszed · 1 year

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new ref sheet for Wednesday (am too lazy to clean up the sketch lines)

#his suit hides how Built he is #Drowning Seiðr #Nicholas Wednesday #nonfandom ocs #ocs #zedart

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vaterslain · 3 years

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@caimkairos || Send "🛠" and I will reveal some OCs, NPCs, or side characters I have

Mikael Gudbrandssen is the grandson of Odin and the demigod son of Bragi, the skald of Valhalla and a god of poetry/music. While he doesn’t have the greatest relationship with Bragi, Odin (another god of poetry) took interest in his skills with words. He is currently a Catholic bishop in Berlin and is the older half brother to Drowning Seiðr’s frontman. Being their elder, Mikael offers advice to the band and lets them seek refuge with him when needed.

In his youth, Mikael was once in various punk and metal bands before suddenly turning his dedication to priesthood. As expected of a son of Bragi, his natural wordsmithing gained a lot of attention through his sermons that captivate the hearts of hundreds of followers. Despite his job, he still acknowledges and talks to beings from all pantheons; he simply only worships one God. A fellow priest in charge of maintenance is another Norse demigod, a son of Forseti, the god of justice. The two often disagree on matters, but at the end of the day, they keep the place standing. As an odd result of their combined charisma and diplomacy, the cathedral has become a sort of unofficial neutral ground in the city for all pantheons.

Nothing else to see here, folks. He’s just a simple bishop who wants to do good in the world and help other demigods is all :^)

#( i think yall can see a pattern with these demigods and Odin )#( all i can say is )#( -odin and loki scheming in the bg intensifies- )#(👑) verse: modern gods #(👑) never ending saga (hc/lore)

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trolldomblog · 4 years

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Seidr & Norse Shamanism

In Old Norse, seiðr (sometimes anglicized as seidhr, seidh, seidr, seithr, seith, or seid) was a type of sorcery practiced in Norse society during the Late Scandinavian Iron Age. The practice of seiðr is believed to be a form of magic relating to both the telling and shaping of the future. Connected with Norse religion, its origins are largely unknown, although it became gradually eroded following the Christianization of Scandinavia. Accounts of seiðr later made it into sagas and other literary sources, while further evidence has been unearthed by archaeologists. Various scholars have debated the nature of seiðr, some arguing that it was shamanic in context, involving visionary journeys by its practitioners.

Seiðr practitioners were of both sexes, although females are more widely attested, with such sorceresses being variously known as vǫlur, seiðkonur and vísendakona. There were also accounts of male practitioners, known as seiðmenn, but in practicing magic they brought a social taboo, known as ergi, on to themselves, and were sometimes persecuted as a result. In many cases these magical practitioners would have had assistants to aid them in their rituals.

In pre-Christian Norse mythology, seiðr was associated with both the god Oðinn, a deity who was simultaneously responsible for war, poetry and sorcery, and the goddess Freyja, a member of the Vanir who was believed to have taught the practice to the Æsir.

In the 20th century, adherents of various modern pagan new religious movements adopted forms of magico-religious practice that include seiðr. The practices of these contemporary seiðr-workers have since been investigated by various academic researchers operating in the field of pagan studies. Darkness covers the tents scattered across the drying grass of the festival grounds with a kindly shadow; at the far end of the sloping valley, the cliffs are edged by the first silver shimmer of the rising moon. As its light grows, it outlines a canvas pavilion and glimmers on the upturned faces of the folk gathered before it. They are gazing at a tall chair like a throne, but higher and draped with a bearskin, where a veiled figure waits, her body motionless, her face in shadow.

“The gate is passed, the seidhkona waits,” says the woman sitting on the fur-covered stool below the high seat. “Is there one here who would ask a question?”

After a moment’s hesitation, someone rises. He must decide whether to move from his present home or continue where he is. What should he do? What fate does the Völva see?

“Speak now, seeress, ’till said thou hast. Answer the asker ’till all he knows. . .” says the leader. And after a moment the seidhkona, her voice harsh as if it comes from a great distance, begins to answer him.

This could be a scene from the world of our ancestors, but in fact the ritual described above took place at a pagan festival in Northern California. For the past three years, a group called Hrafnar (“the Ravens”) has been performing a reconstruction of the Old Norse seidh ritual as a service to the community. The group has worked outdoors in rain or moonlight, in an underground bunker, and in living rooms; for groups of forty or more people, or for only two or three. In addition to assisting in personal growth, our purpose has been to demonstrate the validity of the shamanic tradition of Northern Europe, and to serve the larger pagan community to which we belong as the Völvas of Scandinavia served their people. The procedure has undergone many changes during that time, and continues to evolve, but we have now learned enough so that it seems appropriate to share our findings.

Norse Shamanism

The form of divination described above is one of a group of practices referred to as Seidh, which bear a strong resemblance to activities which in other cultures are called Shamanism. In order to understand what Hrafnar is trying to do, one needs to know something about Shamanism in general and how it was practiced in the northern lands.

Shamanism may well claim to be the oldest type of spiritual practice still in use among humankind. Evidence for activities similar to those of later shamans can be seen in the Paleolithic cave paintings. Shamanic practices have survived at all the edges of the inhabited world, with remarkable similarities in both technique and symbolism appearing in places as disparate as Siberia and Tierra del Fuego. Such a broad dispersal suggests that shamanism was practiced by homo sapiens at a very early stage of development, before its dispersion into different cultures. With such a venerable and extensive history, one would expect to find evidence of shamanic practice in the pre-Christian cultures of Northern Europe as well.

A careful analysis of Norse and Celtic sources suggests that this is indeed true. To the reader familiar with the literature of shamanism, many of the visionary and magical feats attributed to both Druids and Old Norse vitkis or völvas seem strongly reminiscent of shamanic practices. The Icelandic sagas are rich in accounts of magic of all kinds, including spirit journeys, weather working, healing, prophecy, and shape changing. Some of the Scandinavian practices may well have been learned from the Saami (Lapps) or Finns, but accounts from Celtic and even Greek legend support a belief in native Indo-European shamanism as well.

Seidr

The practice for which we have the most information is called seidh (nominative case in Old Norse, seidhr), which may come from a word meaning “to speak” or “to sing”, or possibly be cognate to the verb “to seethe”, derived from the rituals of salt-boiling (Grimm, III:1047). According to Stephen Glosecki,

The etymology of seidhr, however, suggests indigenous development, perhaps retention of Indo-European practice. The mysterious term is cognate with French séance, Latin sedere; Old English sittan, and thus with a large group of terms based on the Indo-European root *sed-. A seidhr, then, was literally a séance — a “sitting” to commune with the spirits.

— (Shamanism and Old English Poetry, p. 97)

In the literature, seidh refers to various kinds of magical practice, including an act of divination or prophecy performed while in trance. Other terms for the practitioner of seidh would be seidhkona, spákona, or for a man, seidhmadhr. A more general term for a male spiritual practitioner was vitki (in Anglo-Saxon, wicca or [fem.] wicce). At an earlier period, both men and women appear to have practiced this craft. Male practitioners of seidh included Ragnvald Rettilbeini (the son of King Harald Fair hair, who was burned by Erik Bloodaxe at their father’s command along with the men who worked seidh with him), and Eyvindr Kelda, who was drowned by King Olaf. However, the majority of those who practice seidh in the sagas are female. The strong feminine tradition makes this form of shamanism especially interesting to women.

Skill in seidh was a specialty of the god Odin. It is said to have been taught to the Aesir by the goddess Freyja (Ynglingasaga: 4) and parts of the practice probably originated with the Vanir cult. On the other hand, Odin was himself originally a shamanic deity, who seems to have acquired this magical technique in addition to his mastery of the runes and other lore. In part VII of the Ynglingasaga, we learn that —

Odin had the skill which gives great power and which he practiced himself. It is called seith, and by means of it he could know the fate of men and predict events that had not yet come to pass; and by it he could also inflict bane on men, or soul loss or waning health, or also take wit or power from some men, and give them to others. But this sorcery is attended by such ergi [a term meaning sexual, or spiritual, receptivity used as an insult] that manly men considered it shameful to practice it, and so it was taught to priestesses.

Odin could change himself. His body then lay as if sleeping or dead, but he became a bird or a wild beast, a fish or a dragon, and journeyed in the twinkling of an eye to far-off lands, on his own errands or those of other men. Also, with mere words he was able to extinguish fires, to calm the seas, and to turn the winds any way he pleased.

A passage from the Lokasenna is of especial interest, since if the verb in the second line is examined carefully, it may provide evidence for Norse use of the shamanic drum. Taunting Odin, Loki says–

But thou in Samsey wast performing seidh

And beating out (spells) like a Völva,

Vitki-like didst pass through the world of men,

In woman’s wise, I believe.

— (Lokasenna: 24)

Other practices identified as seidh include raising storms, journeying or battling in animal form, sending a nightmare to kill someone by suffocation in his sleep, and love spells, all things with which shamans in other cultures are credited (or accused of) as well. Journeying, both in the body and in trance, is a standard practice in Norse literature. Destinations vary, there are references to travel in Midgard (viewing other parts of the real world) and seeking Odin’s Seat of Seeing in Asgard. However, by far the most common use of the term seidh is in reference to a ritual in which the seeress (völva or seiðkona) sits on a platform or high seat (seidhjallr), goes into trance and prophesies for the community. It is this practice which Hrafnar has to date spent the most time in recovering.

The most comprehensive account of a seidh session (or indeed, of any Norse ritual) which survives is the story in section four of the Saga of Erik the Red, in which a Völva comes to one of the settlements in Greenland to prophesy for the community. The idea that physically elevating the seer will assist in vision also seems to be behind the tripod upon which the Delphic Pythia sat to prophesy, and perhaps the tree trunk which the Machi shamaness of the Araucanian tribe of South America climbs in order to declare her visions as well.

In former times the machi mounted a platform supported by shrubs (the rewe) and there, in prolonged contemplation of the sky, she had her visions… When the machi has returned to her senses, she describes her journey to the sky, and announces that the Sky Father has granted all the wishes of the community.

— (Eliade: Shamanism, p.325)

The important features of the seidh rite in Erik’s Saga are as follows: The Völva was an itinerant priestess, requested to come to the steading to divine for them when the current famine would end. Other texts suggest that formerly such priestesses travelled with a group of younger people, perhaps in training, but at this period the Spákona Thorbjorg alone remained. When she arrived, she was given an opportunity to get to know the place, and then fed a meal of the hearts of all the different kinds of beasts available (possibly a reference to a sacrifice, in which the rest of the meat would have been eaten by the others). In Irish tradition, an offering to the gods was also sometimes a prerequisite to prophecy.

To prophesy, the Greenland Völva sat upon a raised seat with a cushion stuffed with hen feathers. To enable her to go into trance, a special song, the vardhlokur, was sung by a woman, which summoned the spirits. As a result, the seeress prophesied the end of the famine, and also answered many questions for members of the community. She wore a special costume, consisting of a blue cloak ornamented with stones, a necklace of glass beads, a cap of black lambskin lined with white cat skin, cat skin gloves, and calfskin shoes. A belt supported her skin pouch of magical paraphernalia and a walrus ivory handled knife, and she carried a carven staff with a brass knob, also set with stones. The most significant aspects of this attire are probably the inclusion of different kinds of animal fur, especially the skins of the cat, sacred to Freyja, and the staff, which appears in a 6th century plaque which may depict a priestess, and is among the items forbidden to Christians. In Laxdælasaga, a seidh staff is found in a grave believed to be that of a völva.

The Hrafnar Seidh Ritual

In the references to prophetic seidh which have survived, attention focuses on the questions, and beyond the information that a special song was sung, little is said about the techniques used to achieve vision. However, in studying the Eddas, we note that the Voluspá; BaldersdraumR, and the Shorter Seeress’ Prophecy all recount episodes in which Odhinn journeys to the Underworld to consult the Völva. These stories suggest two possibilities — the first is that the place in which prophetic vision is found is Hel, home of the ancestral spirits, and second is that the process of questioning was structured according to a traditional formula to which the seer was conditioned to respond. In seidh as performed by Hrafnar, singing is used to change consciousness and raise energy, the journey to the Underworld serves to bring everyone to the source of knowledge, and the formulaic questioning keeps the visionary state under control.

The first step is purification with the smoke of sacred herbs. Today smudging is most familiar from Native American tradition, but the practice of smoking with herbs (called recels) is found in Anglo-Saxon sources and elsewhere in European folklore. The purpose of the practice is to help people get rid of tensions and preoccupations that would prevent them from focusing on the work at hand. The leader or householder then defines the space to be used for the ceremony. One or more of the participants may orient and balance the group by honoring the directions and the local nature spirits. Finally, the gods in general and those deities particularly associated with seidh are invoked. With each step, the group moves deeper into the world of Norse myth. By the time the journeying begins, everyone should be caught up by the momentum of the ceremony.

None of this is strictly necessary for the practice of seidh. However Christian denunciations of pagan prophetic practice indicate that the gods were invoked before performing divination. More important is the psychological function of these activities. Taking time to establish Sacred Space provides a transitional period in which the participants can release the preoccupations of the day and their identities in the modern world and move into the world of Nordic myth. It is also useful to define the area of the ritual, especially when a ceremony is being performed in someone’s living room.

Wearing authentic clothing helps all of the participants make that psychological transition, just as wearing a cap or cape with skins or pictures of one’s power animal and other symbols helps the shaman to function. A great deal of this could be classed as theater, but any analysis of the shamanic literature will make the dramatic element in most traditional practices quite clear.

‘Tis time to sing at the Seat of Thul,

At the well of Urdh to welcome wisdom. . .”

With these words from the Havamál we move into the heart of the ritual, preparation for the prophetic trance begins. The seidh journey is powered by the energy raised by dance and drumming, chant and song. As in traditional societies, an exchange takes place between shaman and people in which the energy of the community enables the shaman to journey farther and faster to bring back the knowledge they need. The forms this takes may vary. Sometimes Hrafnar ceremonies include fiddlers who play Swedish folk music to get people into the mood. More often, we use the drum. The drummer should begin a strong beat to which all may sway, clap, etc. and if there is room, dance in a line or spiral which becomes a circle again, or only the seer/esses may dance. This is followed by the power songs of the seer/esses. A whistle may signal the end of the preparatory phase.

The Guide or drummer then begins a slow beat, and Guide begins the induction, or the Seer/ess may narrate the journey. It begins with instructions to relax the limbs, to deepen and regularize the breathing. Then people are directed to visualize a familiar outdoor spot from which a path leads downward and into a forest. The trees arch overhead to form a tunnel, through which one passes to the Sacred Grove. This is the barrier between the real world and Midgard, which is the Mid-world, the non-ordinary version of our normal plane of existence. In the center of the Sacred Grove rises Yggdrasil, the world tree. From this point, the journey incorporates imagery from traditional Underworld journeys, ending before the Gate, where all except the Seer/ess remain during the questioning.

The journey always follows the same general outline. Since this is being done aloud, the rest of the group hears and is carried along on the journey. In practice, each participant interprets the narration through his or her own symbol system, so that each person’s journey is different, although everyone arrives at the same goal. Each seer/ess or Guide visualizes the journey and narrates it in his or her own way, however the route is always essentially the same. As the group has continued to work together, members have influenced each other’s visions of the road.

This shared vision is the equivalent of the culture-specific interpretation of the Otherworld inherited by members of a traditional society. It also places the entire group in a rapport which facilitates the divination. Some symbols are universal, but the visions of individuals in a traditional culture tend to consist of images which other members of that culture can recognize and understand. By intentionally furnishing the first part of the journey with images from Norse culture, we increase the probability that the original material that follows will come from the same stratum of the collective unconscious, providing an integrated and comprehensible experience.

It is important to note that the Hel of Germanic mythology is by no means the same as the Hell of Christianity, to which, in English, it gave its name. Although Loki’s daughter Hella, who rules it, is in part a goddess of death and decay, the other side of her face is young and beautiful. Hel appears to include both the horrors of the grave and the beauty of the Undying Lands. Green plants flourish there even when in the world it is winter. Hel is the world beneath the mound — the world of the ancestors.

The topography of the Underworld appears to have been thoroughly mapped by the ancients; there is a remarkable degree of agreement in the accounts of journeys– the obstacles to be surmounted, the rivers crossed, the beings encountered on the way. Such a definitive tradition suggests generations of journeying. This pathway through the collective unconscious has been well surveyed.

Although the entire group makes the journey to the Underworld together, only the seer takes the further step of going through the gates, and only after formally indicating his or her willingness to do so. If the first Seer/ess has guided the journey, at this point a second person takes over as Guide. The chant is sung by everyone, to a medieval Norwegian melody. The music and the drumming carry the Seer/ess as s/he visualizes going through the Gateway into the Underworld. Individual experiences of this second stage of trance vary, however all agree that a definite shift in consciousness occurs. The experience is generally pleasant. For some, the stimulus of a question is required for images to form, others begin to see spirits etc. as soon as they arrive.

In the Eddas, Odin generally begins by chanting a spell to summon the Völva from her mound and stating his magical name and powers. He signals his question by saying– “Cease not, Völva, till said thou hast; answer the asker till all he knows….” (Baldrsdraumr 8, etc.). The Völva signals that she has finished with one answer and is ready for a new question by saying, “I tell thee much, yet more lore have I; thou needs must know this — wilt know still more?” (line 4, etc.). or in Voluspá, “Wit you more, or how?”

This pattern is the model for the interaction between the Guide and the seer/ess during Seidh trance. The role of the Guide at this point is to act as intermediary between the group as a whole, still in first stage trance, and the Seer/ess. In the orientation, people should be warned to make their questions as simple and specific as possible. The Guide signals questioners to begin and signals the end of a sequence. S/he also maintains sufficient rapport with the Seer/ess to tell when the Seer/ess is tiring and end the session. If there are more questions than the first Seer/ess can handle, a second and if required a third speaker is put up into the high seat and the sequence from the singing onward repeated.

Some querents may have questions involving the dead, or there may be times when a seer/ess senses spirits who are eager to communicate. Given that we are invading the realm of the spirits for this work, it seems only just that from time to time they should be allowed to have their say. The seer/ess may hear and transmit the message, or in some cases, allow the spirit to speak through him/her. This kind of communication, however, should be handled carefully, and special care should be taken in bringing the seer/ess back to ordinary consciousness.

When all questions have been answered, the Guide brings the last Seer/ess back through the Gate, but s/he may stay in High Seat for journey home. To the beat of the drum, the Guide narrates return journey in reverse order from entry. At the end of the narration, the Guide or a singer may sing another song to help people make the transition back to ordinary reality.

The final part of the ritual recapitulates the actions of the opening in reverse order, assisting all participants to make an orderly transition back to normal reality. Tasting rock salt is helpful in grounding, and distributing it provides an opportunity to make sure that everyone has in fact shifted back to ordinary consciousness. We always try to have food and drink available afterward to continue this process and replace expended energy. The social atmosphere of sharing food also provides a supportive environment in which people can debrief and discuss the interpretation of their answers.

The larger the group being served, the more useful a division of labor in the ceremony becomes. Roles include that of the Seer/ess, the Guide, one or more Wardens to assist in getting seers in and out of the chair and recovering as well as watching out for problems in the group as a whole, and of course, the people who are asking the questions. Each of these functions is important, and each requires preparation and training.

The element that makes seidh different from individual shamanic journeying is the presence of the people with the questions. The Harner technique in which a shaman journeys to obtain a vision for a client, helps him or her to interpret it, and teaches him to continue working in this way on his own occupies a middle position between solo work and seidh. Seidh allows a shaman, or seer, to use a single journey to see for many people in a way which recreates the culturally supportive environment of a traditional setting. In fact, only if there are several people seeking information of this kind does it make sense to put on such an elaborate ceremony. It might be said, therefore, that next to the seer/ess, the people are the most important participants.

Despite the fact that others lead the journey, the role of the querent should not be a passive one. Adding to the number of people sharing the vision seem to increase its intensity. Even an experienced journeyer may find the trip more vivid when others are along. The presence of a group provides an automatic support network which helps to validate the experience, and the energy and excitement created by group chanting provides extra power to carry the seer/ess into the second level of trance.

It is the responsibility of the querent to frame the question in a way that will provide a useful answer, so s/he should spend some thought on choosing the subject and be specific about how it is described. Questions should be narrowed down so that a single short vision will provide useful information. They should be serious, and they should be important to the asker. In asking their questions and interpreting the seidhkona’s replies, Querents would be well advised to heed the advice Socrates gave to Xenopohon regarding oracles. According to the master, it is stupid to ask questions which can be answered by research, reason or ethical principles.

In short, what the gods have granted us to do by dint of learning, we must learn. What is hidden from mortals we should try to find out from the gods by divination; for to him that is in their grace the gods grant signs.

— Xenophon, Memorabilia, LCL, trans. O.J. Todd, vol. 4, pp. 5-7

Ancient writers such as Epictetus also point out the necessity of approaching the oracle with a completely detached and open mind, determined to put the answer to good use, whatever it may be.

Interestingly enough, we have found that a vision will sometimes answer more than one question — the one that triggered it, and a question which someone else in the group is waiting to ask. The visions may stimulate insights in those who have not yet asked their questions or did not know they had one. Others simply “hang out” in a comfortable state or do their own spiritual work until it is time to return.

The greater the need of the querent, the more powerful the vision will be. The process is essentially interactive. Seer and querents have already been placed in rapport by journeying together; the seer uses his or her skills to reach a level of consciousness in which information and images can be accessed with great efficiency, but the questions, especially those coming from complete strangers, evoke the images, and validate the seer’s belief in his or her skills.

The querent therefore needs to stay as focused as possible, to sing enthusiastically when required, and to formulate his or her question as simply and clearly as possible. The more open the querent is to the experience, the more powerful the answer. In some cases, the answer may be something the querent has been told before, or a thing that could be communicated just as well in a less elaborate setting. The fact that the information is communicated when both parties are in an altered state seems to give it more impact. The images which are the most common type of response can have great power, and even ordinary information conveyed in trance may acquire profound significance. In any case, the querent is more likely to remember and understand advice received in this way.

The only equipment really needed for seidh is the mind. However, like shamans in traditional societies, in Hrafnar we have found that when one is working with a group, a certain amount of dramatic technique increases the effectiveness of the process. Physical symbols, which speak to the unconscious, help us to convince ourselves and those who work with us that we are indeed recreating the spirituality of our ancestors. Thus, in addition to researching the process itself, we have studied the culture from which it came, and tried, as much as possible, to recreate its clothing and artifacts. The effectiveness of this may be judged by one attendee’s comment that the experience felt like participating in something out of National Geographic.

Results

Seidh is not intended to replace other spiritual or therapeutic practices. Its benefits, as with any experience, depend on the use that is made of them. The ritual appears to have two major effects. The first is to provide spiritual counselling for a maximum number of people in a single session. The second is to give people a powerful sense of participation in a spiritual experience in the Northern European tradition. Many querents have reported that the answers they received were extremely accurate, and that they received new insights into their situations.

The Hrafnar seidh procedure is now reasonably well tested. Both women and men have been trained and seem to function equally well. Several of the seers are able to handle a roomful of questions with minimal assistance. Others are able to take several questions at a time with some support. Clearly, this is a skill which becomes easier with practice. The group has become known as a resource available to the local community and is beginning to work with other Norse groups such as the Ring of Troth. Hrafnar performs seidh at several annual festivals as well as on special occasions. In the future, we will continue to train more seer/esses, and give them the experience they need to function more and more independently.

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an-anaemic-pen · 5 years

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Lore of Dance of the Little Swan

I.Dance of the Little Swan takes place in the time of pagan gods, as you might have guessed, and pretty much all of the lore used is what was spread before the Christianization of Europe, except, y’know, real. I use some specific tales and creatures, so here’s a little lore if you find interest:

*quick note: I didn’t pick mythos from any specific time, so there’s stuff from black-plague-era but also most characters still polytheistic.

Norse Lore

Swan Maidens

Specifically the whooper swan, they migrate from northern to southern Eurasia. In my interpretation, swan maidens have two options:

Take on a swan mate

guaranteed mate for life (as whooper swans do)

safety from humans and more offspring at a time

male cygnet are swans, and female cygnet are swan maidens

Take on a human mate:

a partner with more intelligence and actual sentience

more interactions with humans and their culture, as some prefer

male children are normal humans, and females are swan maidens

Human-born and swan-born maidens mature at the same rate as their regular swan counterparts. By the time they reach anywhere from 120-150 days old, they are able to fly and transform from one form to the other. After they reach their sexual maturity at age 5 (they appear to be 15 years of age as a human) they slow to the same growth rate as a human, allowing them to live up to what appears to be 80 years in human-form, although they’ll only live to an average of 65.

Both types of maidens are born with a white feather behind their ear (regardless of the juvenile swan’s plumage color), which falls off once they turn for the first time. It holds the power of their transformation seiðr. Most maidens weave it into a bracelet or garment that they can wear, and those that want a human husband can leave it out to be found. A prophecy from long-since-forgotten states that as long as a maiden willingly places out her feather to be found, a man fit to be her husband will find it.

Ceana is a swan-born maiden.

Jötnar

The first creatures produced by Ymir, they survived their father’s world-creating dismemberment by sailing on his blood. Predating both the Aesir and Vanir gods, they have the ability to manipulate ice and snow by pulling from the molecules in the air.

Their culture used to thrive within its own realm, but Laufey tried to enslave Earth. He was defeated and spared by the Allfather, and Odin took the Casket of Ancient Winters, placing it within Asgard’s vaults.

Jötunheim was weak, but Laufey collected a small army and attempted to take back the Casket. He failed due to Heimdall alerting the Asgardians, and the frost giants were ambushed before they even left their realm. Laufey was killed and Loki was taken by Odin.

Jötunheim, ruled by Fárbauti and her two illegitimate sons, Býleistr and Helblindi, has been weakened significantly. Odin opened negotiations with Jötunheim, and as of the events of Dance of the Little Swan, they still hold an uneasy alliance.

Fárbauti believed Loki to be dead until Odin brought him along for a trade meeting. She caught her son by the arm, and his skin reacted to the debilitating cold by turning blue, rather than being frostbitten, as is standard.

Jörmungandr

Also known as the Midgard Serpent, he is the offspring of Loki and Angrboða.

Scottish Myths

Wee Annie

A young girl killed by the black plague, she was quarantined in the depth of Mary King’s Close and left to die. She cries for her doll.

The Loch Ness Monster

Blue-green in color, with black bumps along her back, she lurks within the depth of Loch Ness.

Kelpies

A shapeshifting water horse that haunts Scottish rivers, it has three ways of hunting:

Takes the form of a man and leaps at passers-by.

Appears at the water’s edge appearing gentle, offering victims a ride before plunging them into the deep.

Emits a cry that sounds like a drowning man or women to attract its prey.

Selkies

Seal spirits who could take human form on land by shedding their skin, they’re very similar to Swan Maidens, although native to the Scots-land.

Sídhe

Members of the fae. They live underground in fairy mounds, which they protect fiercely.

Baobhan Sith

She is a very dangerous female vampire who haunts the highland regions, appearing as a beautiful woman who seduces her victims before attacking them and draining their blood. She shares certain characteristics in common with succubi, banshees, and fairies.

Cait Sith

Resembling a large black cat with a white spot on its chest, its as large as a dog. Some common folklore suggested that the Cat Sìth is not a fairy, but a witch that can transform into a cat.

Cù Sìth

Size of a young bull with the appearance of a dog with shaggy, dark green fur and a long tail. Its paws are the width of a man's hand. It’s a harbinger of death and appears to take the soul of a person to the afterlife.

Unicorn

A white horse-like or goat-like animal with a single large, pointed, spiraling horn projecting from its forehead and cloven hooves (sometimes a goat's beard). She can only be seen by pure-of-heart virgins, is immortal, and has healing powers. They’ve been hunted for their horns, which can be used to heal any ailment.

Slaugh

A group of very dangerous spirits from the highlands, known as the unforgiven dead.

As fallen angels, they have no souls, and travel in what appears to be a murder of crows so large it blots out the stars. Always moving towards the west, they search for dying mortals’ souls. The weak are easiest to take and feast upon, but young, healthy souls are known to be a better meal. The souls of children are severely hated for reasons unknown.

This will be added to as more creatures/myths are mentioned.

Link to each chapter in case you wish to read! I.i: Prelude || I.ii: Overture || I.iii: Dance of the Harpy || II.i: Pas de Trois

#fanfic #fanfiction #loki #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #marvel #norse mythology #scottish mythology #european mythology #Dance of the Little Swan #mythology

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solvskrift · 3 years

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fic: i can't drown the flame (also on ao3)

Loki lands on Sakaar. Things look bad, and then they look worse. Then - just maybe - they start to get better. Whumptober Prompt #1: All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere to Go | "You have to let go." + bound

Loki hated traveling through the Bifröst.

He preferred worldwalking by far – folding himself into space through dimensions only he knew how to navigate, willing himself onto faraway worlds with nothing but his own mind and seiðr to guide him. Preferred, even, the passageways he took sometimes that had revealed themselves to him alone. The secret routes he had painstakingly sought out and categorized over centuries – a few, he had even made himself.

The Bifröst felt too much like falling.

But with Hela’s devastating power radiating around them and Mjölnir shattered on the ground, Loki called for it instinctively. The answering energy of the Rainbow Bridge struck the ground with a resounding boom and pulled them in with unyielding force. The panic Loki had been sealing up tight since slamming into the Earth sorcerer’s floor clawed up his throat and threatened to wrap around his mind as the stars sped by.

“Loki!”

Craning his neck, he followed Thor’s wide-eyed gaze. Hela had been gathered into the pull of the Bifröst right along with them – and she was gaining. Loki’s terror smothered itself as he made the familiar reach to drag one of his weapons out of nothingness, a dagger materializing effortlessly in his hand.

Hela blocked the blow as easily as swatting away a fly. Loki only had time enough to register his own dagger turning back on him before the blunt end struck him hard in the side, and he was thrown through the edge of space and time.

Out here, not even the cold comfort of the Bifröst remained.

Loki fell, again, and remembered.

When he hit the ground (blessed, solid ground) he bit down on his lip so hard he bled (though no one was around to see, to ask, to wonder at this curious weakness) and still he could not keep the tears from coming.

The shades covering the large windows receded automatically as the twin suns rose into the sky, and Loki blinked into wakefulness. He lay still, taking mental stock in the space of a moment: a soft bed, the faint smell of artificial-flower-scent and leather – he was in his own rooms, then. There was a bottle of strong drink open somewhere nearby. His body was a little sore, though not too bad.

There was an arm wrapped around his middle.

Loki’s muscles spasmed slightly underneath the weight of it, and he was suddenly, painfully aware of the body pressed up along his back. The knees slotted against his own. The pair of feet tangled with his, the hot breath on the back of his neck—

Loki breathed deep and slow, his eyes roving unseeing over the opposite wall. For a bare instant, he allowed himself the luxury of letting his mind drift, empty and blank…his gaze latched onto the painted stripe of rich blue running down the length of the wall and followed it, stopping where it met the floor...staring until his vision began to blur. Then, pulling an easy grin onto his face, he shifted. He stretched languidly, dislodging the grip on his stomach, and gave what he knew to be a pleased little sigh. Just loud enough to be heard in the morning quiet.

The Grandmaster yawned and pulled back a bit, giving Loki’s body a possessive squeeze as his arm slithered away.

Loki widened his grin and glanced over his shoulder. “Good morning.”

“Mm, morning, sweetheart,” said the Grandmaster, a touch of sleep left in his voice. Blearily, he propped himself up on one sharp elbow, the sheets sliding further down his body, and leaned over to press a kiss to Loki’s cheekbone. “Sleep good?”

“Yes,” Loki sighed, letting his eyes half-close. “Very well. The best sleep I’ve had in years, if I’m being honest.”

(Loki decided he wouldn’t think about the fact that he was, actually, being honest.)

“Good. Good, good, good.” The Grandmaster smiled and tapped his finger twice on the tip of Loki’s nose. Trailed his long fingers over the curve of Loki’s shoulder.

Loki willed his muscles to ease and relax.

“Well, honey, I wish I could stay, I really do – you look, uh, pretty exquisite like this – oh you do. But, you know, places to be, planets to rule.” The Grandmaster withdrew, looking for all the realms as though he really didn’t want to leave quite yet.

“I understand, Grandmaster.”

The Grandmaster gave Loki’s sheet-covered flank a couple of solid pats. “That’s my Lo-Lo. Of course you do, you’re just the sweetest, aren’t you? You always understand what I need.”

“Of course, Grandmaster,” Loki said dutifully.

The mattress shifted as the Grandmaster swung his legs off the bed, the covers falling away, and crossed the room naked, unashamed, to pull on his robes. Loki rolled onto his back and watched him.

“You won’t forget about my party tonight, will you? There’re a few people I want you to meet, they’ll absolutely love you, I know it,” the Grandmaster blinked at him, as though it was a request. He straightened his collar and shook out his sleeves.

Loki smiled fondly. His thumb traced an absent-minded pattern on the bedclothes. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The Grandmaster sighed, his head shaking back and forth. “My oh my, I do wish I could stay…” Finished arranging his clothes, he leaned toward one of the room’s mirrors and produced a small tube from one of his pockets, uncapping it to freshen the blue marking down his chin. He gave Loki another look as their eyes met through the mirror. The Grandmaster replaced the cap on his tube of makeup with a small pop and crossed swiftly to the door, lingering on the threshold.

“I’ll see you later,” the Grandmaster said firmly, raising both his eyebrows in a wiggle that could only be taken as suggestive.

Loki smirked and lifted an arm halfway in a little wave. The door closed, and he let it flop back down onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a hand fisting in the sheets bunched around his waist…

The sunlight crept further and further across the room, the temperature rising a few degrees, and eventually Loki rolled out of bed, sweat-sheened and growing thirsty. He dropped the crystal cap back onto the open bottle of booze and padded into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the ornate mirror as he entered and stopped a moment to study himself. His own indifferent gaze – clinical, detached – reflected back to him and he stared, his mind drifting again…letting those dangerous whispers of thought creep forward in the privacy of the bathroom.

He supposed it was private, anyway – the entire place was likely under some kind of surveillance. The Grandmaster, however, did not exactly need cameras to know what was happening in the halls of his home.

Loki’s home.

For now.

He leaned forward slowly, his head tilting almost curiously as he examined himself, his hands gripping the sides of the sink.

He could not return to Asgard – to the throne that was no longer his to claim, and the people who most certainly despised him now more than ever for deceiving them so completely. (For pretending to be the king they had held so dear in their hearts for millennia.) That surge of bewildering, twisting grief rose up inside him again at the image of Odin on the high cliffs of Norway, calm and steady and then suddenly gone, swept away on the wind of their mother’s voice. He viciously choked the life out of that thought and shoved it away. His reflection blinked, hard. And Thor…

Thor was surely dead.

Loki bit down on the inside of his cheek and turned away from the mirror, uncurling his fingers from the edge of the sink. Even if Thor had made it through the Bifröst unharmed, Hela had been more than a match for the both of them – his brother would not have submitted to Hela’s reign in a thousand years, and she would not have seen a purpose in keeping Thor, a rival for the throne, alive. Of that Loki was certain. Hela was Queen of Asgard, now, and going back would be suicide. In more ways than one.

It had been years since Loki had walked freely through the streets of Asgard as himself, and now it was assured he never would again.

His mother was gone, his father. Now his brother. His home.

Loki stepped into the shower and closed his eyes as the heat washed over him.

The only thing to do now was survive. Get through the days. Ensure that he didn’t let his guard down for one second. Loki could do that, he had done it before.

He had maneuvered, after first landing on this garbage heap of a planet, to usurp the Grandmaster; or, perhaps, to influence and control, to rule from the shadows. It had become clear to him rather quickly that was an impracticable ambition in this particular climate – the Grandmaster was entirely too unstable to allow for efficient, predictable handling.

Loki possessed enough desirable talents and enticements to offer the Grandmaster to stay in his good graces a while longer, and when that inevitably ran out he knew he would need his way already found and set to get the Hel off this planet. He would make his way somewhere else, somewhere far, far away from here. Away from Sakaar. Away from Asgard. Away from everyone who remembered his name, and the things he had done under it. Forget, and live, and start again.

He was good at that – surviving. Like a cockroach. Or a disease you just couldn’t stamp out.

Loki stood hunched in the shower, hot water running in branching rivulets over his crossed arms and down his belly. He watched it all swirl around the drains until his skin was red and raw.

Thor’s voice calling his name loud enough to be heard over the music and laughter and inane chatter sent icy panic racing up Loki’s spine, pushing him out of his seat, drink and dull company forgotten in an instant.

The blundering idiot was going to land them both on the wrong side of the Grandmaster’s volatile interest if he didn’t – shut – up! There was quite literally no telling what could be done with the information that they were two princes of the Realm Eternal, or that Loki himself was in some way connected to (judging by the appearance of the chair in which Thor had gotten himself trapped) the next unfortunate victim of the gladiators’ arena.

His brother (who was here, on Sakaar) was going to get them both killed, after all Loki had done to secure his tenuous position.

A desperate, roiling sort of anger bubbled up inside him as he strode across the room, and he opened his mouth to ask Thor furiously if he could for once in their lives not bumble them all straight into trouble by speaking before putting one single ounce of thought into it—

What came out was:

You’re alive.

In hindsight, Loki knew he should have learned better, by now, than to hope.

“You didn’t, ah, mention your brother could do more than make those pretty little sparks.”

Not many would be able to hear the threat behind the words probably, but Loki could. The Grandmaster trailed his fingers lightly over Loki’s cheek.

“I didn’t know myself,” Loki said truthfully. He commanded every muscle in his body to keep from tensing. “It seems to be a…recent development. I assure you, Grandmaster, I wouldn’t have kept such a thing from you.”

“Mmm.” The Grandmaster tucked a strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear and his hand fell away. “I had to stop him from beating my champion. The people didn’t like that, Lo-Lo. I don’t like when the people aren't happy – I don’t like hurting anybody, you know what I’m saying? It just, uh, gets ugly. Messy. I hate messy.”

“Of course, Grandmaster. If I— ”

“I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.” The Grandmaster turned away, removing a stopper from one of the bottles laid out on the table and pouring a drink.

One drink, Loki noted.

“ —I just wish I would have known. You’ve got to give me a little something here, help me out, right? You do wanna, um, help me, don’t you?”

Loki cursed every atom of Thor’s being for leaving him to this.

Thor blamed Loki for Odin, for Hela, for all of it (of course he did) and this is where his refusal to work with Loki – to plan, to think – was going to get them. Two princes, two kings, thrown down into the pits to be slaves and captives on a world covered in waste and lost, broken things.

“There is nothing I would like more, you must believe me. Please” – the word felt like ruin on Loki’s tongue – “if I might, let me take care of it, Grandmaster— ”

The Grandmaster took a swig of his drink and held up a hand. Loki’s mouth snapped shut.

“‘Must?’ ‘Must?’ Come on, now, you know I don’t like it when you talk like that, right?”

Loki nodded, arranging his features into abashed understanding.

“‘Have to’ and ‘no’ – you know I hate that way of thinking, it’s just— ” the Grandmaster waved his free hand around vaguely, his long fingers flitting in the air “—blech. No fun. I appreciate how much you care, Lo-Lo, that’s – that’s good. I just – I’m so disappointed right now, and I need time to think about what to do about it. You understand, huh?”

Loki’s heart sank. “Yes,” he said, inclining his head. “Of course.”

The Grandmaster finished off the drink with one last long pull and placed the empty glass on Loki’s table. “I’ll – I’ll see you in the morning, okay, sweetheart?”

Loki nodded again, swallowing.

The Grandmaster patted the leather over Loki’s bicep and swept towards the door without a backward glance.

Loki stared at the closed door of his rooms until long after the Grandmaster had gone, and hated himself for wishing he would come back.

The chains with which Scrapper 142 – the Valkyrie – had bound him were nothing special. They weren’t enchanted to suppress his seiðr (or especially durable) but Loki saw no immediate purpose in breaking free. The Valkyrie expected him to be sat on this little box wrapped in chains when she returned, and so he would be. He certainly had no inclination to rummage through her personal possessions, or leave the building. He was marginally safer here, after all, than the Grandmaster’s tower for the time being.

The chains bit into the bruises the Valkyrie had left on him.

Loki let them.

It had been a long time since he had last sparred an Asgardian, and longer still since he had been beaten by one. He supposed he shouldn’t have dug into her memories like that… But, he thought, more than a little pleased with himself, he had been waiting to try that little trick out for quite a while now.

The Valkyrie returned and Loki was not wholly surprised to see his brother on her heels. He was, admittedly, a bit taken aback to see that Banner had managed to wrench himself back from the grip of the green beast.

This did not, however, mean that giant ogre could not return at any moment. Loki’s arms spasmed in his bonds, and he clenched his hands together behind his back, his thumb digging into his palm. He smiled, easy and sweet.

“Hello, Bruce,” he said softly.

(And if the doctor bothered to check, troubled himself at all to offer even a cursory question as to Loki’s intentions and state of mind—)

“Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill everybody.”

(—after everything he had done—)

“Where are you at these days?”

(—Loki filed it away as another amusing peculiarity of the strange Midgardian man-beast.)

He sat in the chaotic, cluttered corner of the apartment to which he had been relegated, the feeling of the chains and the weight of three pairs of eyes looking at him with disgust and distrust nearly comforting in their abiding familiarity.

He smiled to himself, and quietly forged the pathway of his escape off this Norns-forsaken backwater mess of a world.

Loki knew he was going to die here, writhing around on the floor like a convulsing, wounded animal, staring helplessly up at the ceiling of the Grandmaster’s hangar.

The thought kept spiraling around and around in his burning brain, chased by the image of Thor stabbed through the heart by their sister, the inevitable conclusion of this suicide mission of his…Asgard in ruins, soaked in blood…all that was left of her royal family scattered and defeated…dead…all dead…

Loki was going to die, Thor was going to die, Loki was going to die, Thor was going to—

He tried over and again, in vain, to unlock his muscles, to unlock his mind, to roll over and crawl and find the source of this unbearable pain and stop it, please, make it stop make it stop make it stop—

He was going to die.

Loki prayed to black out.

His brother was going to die.

Loki tried to move again, his fingers twitching desperately…

His body spasmed and convulsed (this should be nothing, he had survived worse than this, he remembered) and then he was remembering against the will of every fiber of his being, the all-consuming pain of past and present colliding in his mind – his mind that was being eaten away, ripped apart, torn out and replaced by (burning and screams and heavy merciless fingers wrapped around his throat ) as he jerked and thrashed—

Loki’s wide eyes stared uncomprehending into the empty world above him as he collapsed endlessly in on himself, alone and forgotten and fading.

It didn’t end for a long, long time.

Loki had been right about never seeing Asgard again – though not in the way he had expected.

Now it no longer existed, not for any of them. The rooms he had grown up in, gone…the mountains he’d explored with Thor in their youth, the garments and jewels and family possessions his mother had left behind, the golden halls of the palace he had walked for a thousand years, all gone…

Watching the debris of his home float through space, arms crossed tightly over his chest and mind being dragged ruthlessly forward to accept the truth before his eyes, he half-wished he had been taken with it.

Like Hela.

(Odin’s two disappointments.)

Loki nearly laughed out loud at the thought and frantically swallowed down the hysterical sound – it would have been so exquisitely poetic.

The Tesseract seemed to burn in his pocket (though of course it wasn’t really in his pocket at all, or even on this plane of existence)…

Loki could still feel it.

Its presence pressed against his edges of his mind, testing the barriers, testing him – resuming the intricate dance with his seiðr as though it had never even stopped at all, that whispering, twining conversation with no words. He longed to take it out.

Instead, he wrapped it tighter into Yggdrasil’s protection, shrouding it beneath another layer of his magic, and watched the remains of the Golden Realm recede into the stars.

“I’m here.”

Thor hugged him, good as his word, and Loki itched to pull away.

He found he could not remember the feeling of another’s arms around him (before the Grandmaster’s, before Sakaar, before falling) and his skin crawled. The memory of his brother’s embrace was an even more distant thing.

(He thought it might have been in the desolate sands of Svartalfheim. Thor holding onto him as Loki’s body fell apart under both blade and poison. Before that, perhaps years. Decades…)

The searing, punishing pain of the obedience disk raced white-hot through Loki’s mind and he wanted to hit Thor, to strike him, shove him away and conjure a dagger and make him feel pain—

Loki’s fingers trembled, his head jerking almost imperceptibly against his brother’s neck.

He wanted to get out of this room.

He wanted to get off of this damned ship.

He wanted to fly as fast as he could as far away from here as it was possible to be. There was nothing for him here, he had nothing left, and Loki should go, he should run. Run like he always did, like he always had—

Thor’s arms tightened around him, and Loki answered nearly against his will, fists clutching at Thor’s cape with an overwhelming surge of desperation he had been all but certain he’d throttled and crushed into dust in a time long since passed.

He and Thor were both here (not nearly whole, either of them, but alive) – against all odds. They were here. They had won – together.

(“I thought the world of you. I thought we were going to fight side by side forever.”)

Loki screwed his eyes shut and dug his knuckles into the back of Thor’s armor so hard his bones ached in protest.

He didn’t want to let go.

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #'you have to let go'#bound #marvel #mcu #fic #dubcon #past torture #trauma #loki #solv fic #day 1 down let's see if i can keep this party bus rolling #fair warning full disclosure yes most of my prompt fills for whumptober are for my frosty boy loki odinson #but i do have some hp ones + other fandoms in store!#ok love you all enjoy if you're in this fandom lol

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tegary-blog · 6 years

Text

Here’s a little sequel to 25 & 56!

40 + 98: Almost Kiss & Curses

Loki has never seen a curse such as this before. In the millennia he’s been alive, Loki has prided himself on his knowledge of every type of magic that exists within the realms: be it seiðr or eldritch or blood magic like his own, Loki has never failed to identify a spell that he’s come across. That is, until now.

He’s been at the palace for several months, and despite their initial meeting, King Thor has been, by all definitions, a fine gentleman. He’s set Loki up with a room of his own, offered to send his servants out for anything Loki might need. Loki has taken him up on his offer more than once: in fact, the bumbling idiots had managed to find Loki a few sprigs of Dragon’s Breath, a fairly rare herb that Loki himself has only been able to locate once or twice at the top of one of Asgard’s tallest peaks. He’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort. But not that he’s not the one who has to venture out to find it…

Anyways, Thor has been perfectly courteous, but Loki attributes that to the fact that he is quite possibly the only person on Asgard who can heal the palace’s inhabitants, and among them Thor’s mother, Frigga. Loki likes Frigga. Immensely. The past queen of Asgard is vastly knowledgeable in seiðr magic, and has been helping Loki in his search for a counter-curse when she possesses the strength of body to do so.

The curse is a slow-moving one: it begins by someone noticing a toe, or a finger, or the tip of their nose, has become blackened with dead tissue. It progresses from there, as the magic eats at the victim’s body at a snail’s pace. Frigga had noticed her symptoms some four months ago, and her arm is only blackened to her elbow. Loki had attempted to restore the limb to life with healing magic: it had worked, for a few hours. Frigga had awoken in the morning with the necrosis far more advanced than it had been before, and Loki had immediately banned any attempts at further use of healing magic.

As time goes by, more and more inhabitants of the palace fall victim to the curse’s magic. A few cooks one week, a courier boy the next. Honestly, it surprises Loki that it takes so long for Thor to come knocking at the door to his quarters at half-past the witching hour, panting like he’s just run a marathon.

“Loki,” He says shakily, and holds out his hand for Loki’s inspection. The tip of his ring finger is black.

“It was only a matter of time,” Loki drawls, gingerly turning Thor’s hand this way and that. The king snatches it back, eyes narrowed.

“You don’t sound particularly worried,” He points out, and Loki looks up to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s because I’m not,” He replies bluntly, and the king takes a threatening step into Loki’s personal space. Loki’s eyes blaze red immediately, a defense mechanism.

“Take another step and that finger will be the least of your worries,” He snarls. “You’re lucky I’m even helping you, after you dragged me from my home with your threats.”

The king seems to deflate, then. Slowly, he sits down in Loki’s desk chair, dropping his head in his hands. He’s shaking, Loki notes with disinterest, as he takes his own seat on the edge of his bed.

It’s silent for a few moments. Loki can hear the chirping of crickets outside of his window, which opens up into one of the palace’s many courtyards.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says, breaking the silence. Loki blinks a few times, thrown off-kilter.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry,” Thor repeats. “That I threatened you. It was unkind of me. But I felt as if I didn’t have any other choice. Loki…” And Loki only sees genuine sincerity in the king’s sky blue eyes. “My mother was the first to fall ill. I panicked. As my father has fallen in to slumber, I had no one to turn to, and none of the healers could do anything for her.” He shakes his head, wipes his palms over his face. “My father’s head advisor, Heimdall, told me of a blood-witch, the most skilled and cunning of his kind, living on the outskirts of town. He said, if anyone could find a way to save my mother, it would be you.” Thor looks up again to meet Loki’s eyes, and all the air is sucked from Loki’s lungs. This man, the king of Asgard, sits before him with such sorrow in his eyes that Loki feels as though he may drown in it.

“I cannot lose my mother, Loki. You must understand.”

And Loki doesn’t understand, not really. He hadn’t so much been born of a mother as he had been born of the forest he called home. Loki doesn’t remember having someone to raise him, to watch after him as he grew. Since Loki entered this world some millennia ago, he has been basically alone.

“I never said I’d stop helping you,” Loki replies after a moment more. “If only to save your mother, as she seems to the the only being with some decency around these parts.”

Thor’s responding chuckle sends Loki’s heart up into his throat, and he swallows harshly, a bit mystified at himself.

“Thank you, Loki,” the king says, and then he’s suddenly in the witch’s personal space. One broad palm comes up, cups the side of Loki’s neck, gives a little squeeze. And then the king is gone, in the same thunderous fashion in which he arrived.

If Loki dreams that night of a warm grip on his neck and whispered words in his ear, he tells no-one.

After that night in Loki’s quarters, the witch really begins to put his mind to finding a cure. And, now, he has the king at his side: Thor, who does not possess even a spark of magic in his whole being, puts most of his kingly duties on hold in order to assist Loki. They spend long hours together, pouring over tomes and ancient writings until Loki can see the inscriptions when he closes his eyes. They usually end up shuffling to the kitchens together at some odd hour of the night, raiding the palace’s vast pantries for food to sate their growling stomachs so that they may get back to work.

“Tell me about yourself,” Thor says one night, while Loki has Thor’s blackened hand cradled in his lap, pouring a newly-concocted potion over the deadened skin.

“Don’t tell me that’s how you charm your maidens,” Loki murmurs, watching Thor’s palm with rapt attention. The liquid over his hand glows silver for a moment, before its light fades. Thor’s hand is still black. Loki snarls in frustration and tosses the vial to the side, falling to lie on his back.

“No, it’s not,” Thor chuckles, seemingly unperturbed by their most recent failure. He lies next to Loki, staring up at the high ceiling of Loki’s quarters. “It’s just that you’ve been here for half a year now, and I feel like I don’t know any more about you than when I first met you.”

“I’m a blood-witch,” Loki deadpans, and Thor rolls on his side to face him, smiling brightly.

“I know that,” He says. “But how did you become one? Where are you from?”

“You know very little about magic, Thor,” Loki drawls, tracing nonsense shapes in the air with his pointer finger. He’s the only one in the palace, besides Frigga, who doesn’t call Thor some iteration of ‘your Majesty.’ “One does not just become a blood-witch. We are born that way. Whether one chooses to awaken that power or not is a different story. Often, blood-witches are seen as the lowest of magic-wielders. Dirty, immoral beings.”

“Why’s that?” Thor asks. Loki turns his head to search Thor’s face, but only finds genuine curiosity.

“Blood-magic is dangerous, Thor,” He responds after a moment. “Even the smallest mistake in casting can cost a life. We, ourselves, are immortal. Different blood runs through our veins than that of mortals.” He taps lightly at a blue-green vein in the crux of Thor’s elbow. “Where do you think we get the blood we need in order to cast?”

“From mortal beings,” Thor says after a moment, realization lighting in his eyes.

“I get all of the blood I use in my casting from willing hosts. But some of my kind are not so…moral, in that way. It is witches like these who give us all a bad name.”

It is silent for a moment. Loki has not taken his hand from Thor’s arm. He’s unsure as to why.

“I never thought you immoral, Loki,” pushing up on his elbows so he can look Loki in the eye, Thor breaks the silence.

“It sure seemed like you did when you forced me from my birth-forest,” Loki mutters, mouth slanted in a frown. Thor blinks and reaches out, cups Loki’s neck again in signature fashion. Hopefully, he can’t feel how fast Loki’s pulse is racing beneath his skin.

“Birth-forest?”

“Beings like me are born from the elements, not from any mortal womb,” Loki responds quietly, looking up to meet Thor’s gaze. “I was born of that forest. It is as close to a mother as I will ever have.”

“I—“ And Loki has never heard the king so uncertain with his words. “I am sorry, Loki. I didn’t mean—I didn’t know—“

“It is alright,” Loki says. And, strangely, it is alright to Loki.

“You may return as soon as the curse is broken,” Thor says, voice strong once more. “And I will renew my grandfather’s decree of the forest as your property only, so that others may not trespass.”

“Thor—“

“I know how it feels, to fear losing a mother,” Thor says. “I would not have you feel the same.”

It is again silent, the only noises echoing through the chamber being their mingled breaths. Thor’s gaze has now dropped from Loki’s eyes to his mouth, and the witch is paralyzed with want and uncertainly. Slowly, as if gentling a flighty animal, Thor begins to lower himself towards Loki.

A knock on the door shocks Loki out of his reverie, and he rolls out from under the king as a page enters the room, looking fairly sweaty, as if he’s just run all the way here.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thor demands, and the page dips his head.

“I am so sorry, Majesty, I didn’t mean to interrupt. But, your mother—“

Thor is on his feet immediately, Loki close behind. Thor turns to exchange gazes with the witch, and they both nod.

“Back to work,” Loki says.

#tegary speaks #thorki #ficlet #trope mash up

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