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loki-hargreeves · 3 years

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Loki x Reader - The Ghost of You

Warnings: death, mentions of blood, angst, ghost stuff

Word Count: 2,7K

Summary: Loki has been miserable since you passed away. You can see him at all time, but he can’t see or hear you. Nevertheless, you try to reach out to him from the other side, hoping one day he can notice you again. He speaks to you, hoping you’re there when he needs you the most.

Author’s Note: This one is for all the angst junkies out there! 💚 Honestly, this was inspired a lot by TUA. But the idea came to me when I was listening to ‘the lonely’ by Christina Perri.

YOUR POV

Death had come to you so incredibly fast.

One moment you had been standing by Loki’s side in battle, the next you were not.

The first thing you remembered was the light. Nothing you had ever seen before compared to the brightness that had forced you to shut your eyes. It felt like it had swallowed you whole, ripped you out of your body and then everything went numb. For a while, nothing mattered. The blood in your veins stilled, the noises around you disappeared and you didn’t even breathe. The enemies disappeared from around you. For a moment, you felt safe.

Loki!

You remembered him, and all the feelings came crashing back to your heart. The pain, the worry, the love, everything.

When the light faded away from your surroundings, you were back at the battle scene. The numerous enemies were slain and it was quiet. The silence and the gnarly smell of blood lingering in the air was eerie. It made your guts twist in an odd way.

There you were, in Loki’s arms. But you were also standing right there only a few feet away.

Loki knelt on the frozen ground with your body in his trembling arms. The life had vanished from your eyes, leaving them cold and empty, staring into the sky. For a while, you stood there still. Shock turned you into stone. Despite not having a physical body, you felt like you couldn’t move at all.

How was Loki holding your bloody corpse, crying his eyes out as his brother and friends watched if you were right there?

“Loki?” You called out his name, surprised you found your voice. It felt like you had tears in your throat, sobs trying to rip away from you, but it didn’t sound it. Your voice was light, it echoed.

No one heard you.

It took all the courage you had in your body to walk closer, and closer, and closer. Suddenly, you fell on your knees, right in front of Loki. He was looking at you, the wrong you. The pain on his face broke your heart. He looked terrified in a way you had never seen him before. His usually so graceful hands held onto your body tightly, turning his knuckles white and he was covered in blood; your blood.

“Loki!” You screamed at him, hoping that he’d snap out of it.

Yet it seemed like you weren’t even there.

Thor put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. Even the god of thunder had tears in his eyes. “Loki, stop,” Thor told him sadly.

It made Loki snap his head aggressively. He looked at Thor with rage in his teary eyes.

“Stop? You’re telling me to stop! She could die and it’s all on us!” Loki shrieked loudly, his voice betraying him as fresh tears rolled down his face.

Sif and Fandral shared concerned glances. They didn’t dare say anything. Even they were upset by this tragedy, but no one wanted to say it out loud yet.

Thor looked like he regretted what he said next, “She’s gone, brother.”

Shivers ran down your spine, which felt like daggers, sinking into your flesh and bone. You felt sick, but nothing happened. You just stared at your corpse in horror, not being able to think of anything else anymore.

You were dead.

That’s why they looked right through you.

Loki wanted to get up, to slap some sense into Thor’s thick skull. Another part of him wanted to keep using his healing magic on your wounds, to revive you and see life in your eyes again. Although Loki didn’t want to accept the truth, he wasn’t a fool.

As he looked at your bloody face, held it and felt the warmth beneath your skin fade away from under his touch, he knew it.

You were gone, ripped away from life too soon.

But you weren’t as far away as he feared.

“Loki,” You cried now, pleading to the gods in Valhalla that they would make that nightmare stop. This couldn’t be real!

Why were you not with your forefathers and mothers? Why were you stuck watching the gruesome reality before your eyes? This wasn’t supposed to happen!

With shaking hands, you tried to touch your body. It was far fetched, but you thought that maybe, just maybe you could return into it. That hope was crushed when nothing really happened. Your hand went right through your body, and you couldn’t even feel anything. At that moment, you noticed you couldn’t feel anything else either. Not the icy ground beneath your knees, nor the wounds that had caused your early demise. It was like you didn’t even exist.

You were a ghost.

For some reason, your soul didn’t leave Loki’s side. After your funeral, your body had been burned. Odin himself had held a speech since you had been his son’s wife. He, like everyone else, assumed you had gone to Valhalla. You hadn’t, which you couldn’t understand why. What had you done to deserve such a cruel fate? You were stuck watching how everyone you ever cared about mourned you when you were right by their side. The worst part was when they didn’t hear you, nor react to your touch. Would it be like this forever?

Seeing Loki was the hardest part. If you tried to go too far away, it seemed like the world stopped. An invisible wall kept you from walking too far away, which meant you were always around him. You were always there to see him cry himself to sleep as he missed you. It was like torture.

Time passed slowly. Every minute of your existence was agony, and it was no other for Loki. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the nights were getting longer and colder.

Thor was being prepared for his new role as king. Although he had yet to be crowned, be certainly behaved like it had already happened, and it didn’t ease Loki’s suffering at all. You began to notice how bitter he had grown - understandably so. Everyone overlooked him completely, but you, which he didn’t know of. To Loki, it seemed like he was all alone. He felt cursed.

When Thor’s coronation was ruined, he had dragged himself and his friends to Jotunheim, you too unbeknownst to him.

It had been scary, to say the least. Seeing them all in battle when you couldn’t help them. Jotunheim was dark and it looked a wreck. It was evidence of something terrible that had happened there before. The frost giants didn’t look pleased to see the Asgardians. Loki looked troubled when Thor started a fight. He thought of you. Last time he had fought, you died.

It took a turn to the worse when a Jotun grabbed his wrist. Instead of getting a nasty frostbite, Loki had watched his hand turn blue just like a frost giant’s. It was like a punch in the gut for him. How was that possible?

Everything that happened next was all a chaotic mess. Odin had shown up to bring them back home. Thor had been banished to Midgard and everyone turned against Loki.

Finally, there was some silence.

Loki was in his quarters that not too long he had shared with you. It was dark and he hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, or set fire to the fireplace. He enjoyed the soft moonlight that washed the space blue. Despite how much time had passed, the room still smelled sweet like you.

“I wish you were still here,” Loki spoke to you, not expecting to be heard.

“I’m right here by your side,” You answered, although he couldn’t hear you. The two of you sat on your bed together, but it only sunk underneath his weight. You were only a sentient being in thin air with an illusion of a body. Nevertheless, you felt real with the race of your heart and the pain that crushed you every day.

Loki began to tear up as he thought of everything that had happened since he lost you. It felt like he too was stuck in a nightmare that had been forged in Hell itself.

You tried to hold his hand like you always did before when you comforted him. Your touch was nonexistent. Reaching out to him was something you still did. The thought of not trying to hold him was harsh.

Oh, how you wished you could see his face just once more, and he could look right back at you. Just once, so you could say goodbye and let him know you were there. That you could say that everything would be alright.

Loki stood up all of a sudden, walking closer to the window so he could look at the view. At night, Asgard looked so calm. He knew better than that. Loki wondered how much of it was all built on lies.

“I don’t know what to do,” Loki’s lips were quivering now. He thought he was all alone, yet he struggled to display the feelings that were tormenting him. “You’re gone, Thor is gone - I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Loki turned around as if he expected you to be right there. When he didn’t see a familiar face, his heart sunk to his stomach. “I don’t know what to do. It would be so much easier if you were here.”

Tears were rolling down his face now, but he kept his composure - for now. You could only watch as he tried to choke his sobs that were begging to be cried out loud. Trying to drown that was agonizing to him, but Loki didn’t want to feel weak.

There was a burning desire within you to take care of Loki. You loved him to death, and beyond. You had always loved him and not being able to make sure he was alright was awful. It didn’t mean you would stop trying. For as long as you were chained together side by side, you would try. One day, it could work.

“It’s going to be just fine, Loki,” You wished deeply for it to be true. Surely, there would be light at the end of the tunnel. At least for him. Loki had so much life ahead of him.

You stood right in front of him now, eyes never leaving his. Sometimes you tried to stand in a way that it seemed like he was looking into your eyes, just to feel something again.

“I just wish that you knew how sorry I am,” Loki tilted his head, breaking the illusion of it all being real when he no longer faced you. “What am I doing, mumbling by myself?” He chuckled sadly, feeling like he was losing it. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. Was it that crazy to speak to nothing, pretending that you were still there?

Watching him like that was incredibly difficult. He was suffering all alone and no one was there to hold him or guide him through it all. Loki thought he was losing it, but little did he know you heard every word he said. You wanted to scream the words at him, even when it felt like buckets of ice water in your lungs, burning you. You were so loud, but he didn’t notice. Surely, you could’ve shrieked right into his ears without getting a reaction.

“If you’re here, my love,” He choked on his words. Loki had to be quiet so he wouldn’t lose the grip he had on himself. His hand was slipping as more tears decorated his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” You wanted to reassure him. Loki couldn’t blame himself for your death. It had been a tragic battle death. It happened! But it was out of his control.

“Loki,” You cried his name now, feeling awful as you could just watch him break down. “You can’t blame yourself!”

Loki’s legs betrayed him and he had to sit down on the hard floor. His hands tangled in his dark locks and he closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. It felt like his entire world was spinning around him. He missed you so much that it made him sick to his stomach.

When you sat down beside him again, you wrapped your arms around his shaking body. Please don’t blame yourself, you thought. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Loki repeated his apology.

His words felt like knives in your heart. There was nothing you could’ve done to change his mind about it. You could only hold him and hope that miraculously it would make him feel better.

For a moment, there was silence. Except for Loki’s sniffles and deep breaths, it was almost peaceful. When you were quiet, it was easier to pretend you were a normal couple again. You were there together, simply enjoying each others’ presences. There wasn’t a dimension separating your souls.

“I need to go down there,” Loki broke the silence. How much time had passed?

“What?” You instinctively asked him.

“The ice casket,” Loki thought out loud. He knew that it was the source of the Jotuns power. If he held it, would his skin turn blue again? Did the frost giant curse him, or were there deep secrets that were now coming to light? Although he was petrified, he knew he had to find out the truth. Soon, not quite yet. His eyes were glossy and red from crying, and for whatever reason, he felt comfortable on the floor. Perhaps he was picturing it, but he felt like he was close to you.

Loki tilted his head, looking to his left where you sat. “I can’t stop talking to you, Y/N. Sometimes it feels like you’re still here,” He admitted quietly. Speaking was hard for him. You could tell when fresh tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Discussing things made everything real.

“I’ve never left,” You whispered sadly.

Of course he didn’t know that, but it was easy to pretend. To pretend his life wasn’t falling apart, like you were safe and sound.

“I love you,” Loki admitted after a while. It had been a long time since he had said it. The last time he could bring himself to say that was on your funeral day, when he watched your body turn to glimmers of magic. He loved you with all his heart and it would never change.

Those three words were bittersweet. They made you feel cherished and happy, but they were also a reminder that you were both stuck in a cruel reality, forced to miss each other when you were so close.

“I love you too,” You whispered gently. Would he ever be able to hear you again? Was there magic he could learn? You couldn’t help but wonder. For now, it seemed hopeless.

You rested your head at the top of his shoulder, feeling like you were crying but there was no way to tell when you had no physical tears to shred. There was only heartache and misery.

The moment you two unknowingly shared ended too soon. Just as the silence grew comfortable again, Loki wiped his face and stood up. He hesitated before walking to the door.

“I have to do this,” He made up his mind. Nothing could stop him now, Loki had to find out the truth. Loki didn’t consider himself a hero as he had failed to save you. Even if he was the monster parents told their children about at night, would it really matter? Loki didn’t think so anymore. You weren’t there to witness him like that, he thought.

Just like that, he opened the door, making his way to Odin’s vault to dig deeper into his past. You were right there with him, with every step of the way.

And you couldn’t do anything at all to help him. Not even when he turned to his true self and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Not even when Odin found him like that and instead of being a comforting father, he told Loki the truth in the worst way. Just as Loki learned he had been taken as a child, that Laufey was his true father, Odin fell into Odinsleep, abandoning Loki.

Once again, Loki was all alone with the weight of the nine realms on his shoulders.

You were just a ghost. To watch Loki crumble to pieces was worse than death itself.

A part of you couldn’t help but wonder, was this what Hell was like?

A/N: It feels like forever since I’ve written Loki angst. I hope you liked it! If you did, I would love to hear your feedback 🥺

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#tw death #Loki #Loki angst #Loki x Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki x You #Loki oneshot #Loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson

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fanfic-collection · 3 years

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Loki x Reader: Apocalypse ch 6

Thanks for reading, please oh please like/comment/reblog

You tilted your head as you saw the defeated look on Loki’s face. “Oh, did I say something wrong?”

Loki looked away, “No, you’re fine, just.” He trailed off.

You leaned forward, spur of the moment and hugged him. “It’s so good to see you.”

“What?” Loki stiffened at the contact.

“I never thought I’d see you again after Tony’s, and the compound and just. You seemed better than what they made you out to be. You made a heroic sacrifice.”

For a moment Loki relaxed into your touch. “Oh.” His bloodied red eyes flickered in your direction. “I would say the same but.” He stopped.

You bit your lip, a shiver running through you at the cold. Slowly you nodded, your eyes scanning over the strange contraption on his neck. You were silent, wanting to reach out and touch it. Unbidden, your hand reached for it, sliding over the icy cold metal. It burned to touch through your gloves.

Loki pulled back, “Don’t.”

“What is it?”

“It’s best not to talk where wandering ears can hear.”

“Good point, let’s get to somewhere safe. Besides, it’s getting colder and later in the day. I can’t risk being out at dark, and you shouldn’t either. Without the sun, we’ll freeze to death in minutes.”

Loki chuckled, “I can assure you, I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the concern.”

You fought the urge to blurt out if it had something to do with his strange eyes, but you figured that was just some weird magic. Instead, you nodded and stood up, offering your hand to him.

Loki, touched the ground timidly, feeling for painful shards before pushing himself up.

You reached out and grabbed his arm, helping steady him. There was a brief moment where he scowled in your direction before he sighed and accepted your proffered hand. “Thank you.” Loki mumbled.

Nodding, you started to guide him slowly through the store and back the way you had come. You made sure to collect Loki’s daggers. One you gave to him, knowing he was more lethal with it than you, even without his sight and the other you kept in your hand. You watched for signs of the blue beasts as you trudged up the street. Somehow Loki seemed to float atop the snow, not sinking into it.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but toss admiring glances over your shoulder at Loki. Even with his hair mussed up from the fight, his body bent slightly in pain, and the bloodied face, he was as stunning as you remembered.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Loki muttered, breaking the eerie silence. Today there was no wind, just bitter cold.

“I know. I want to.”

“Why?”

“You made a great sacrifice for the people of Earth before the blip, you tried to save a lot of people. And the Avengers trusted you, Tony trusted you.” Your voice was muffled by your scarves.

Loki nodded, painfully, “I did. Why does it matter what Stark thinks?”

“Uh, did I mention he’s my, like, second cousin?”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, then he hissed in pain. “No, I don’t believe so. Is that why you were at the compound and his home?”

“Yea.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were so keen to be around me though.”

“I just wanted to get to know you. Is that so bad?”

“No one wants to know me without an ulterior motive.”

You blinked, nearly stumbling to a halt and causing Loki to walk into you. “What?”

Loki grunted, stumbling and righting himself as he gripped your coat. “What?”

“People don’t just, be your friend?”

“Can we move on? And will you stop staring it’s disconcerting.”

“I’m not staring.” You felt your cheeks heat up, “I’m just making sure you’re still nearby.”

“I’m sure you could tell by the fact that I’m holding your arm.” Loki smirked.

You jerked your chin, “Over there, that’s my building.”

Loki nodded, panting heavily. “Good. This body is weak.”

“You say that like it’s not your own.”

Loki clenched his jaw and with his free hand grabbed at the device on his neck. It only served to dig into his pale skin further.

“Please don’t, it looks like that hurts you.” You mumbled, glancing back again as you guided him nearer the building.

Opening and closing the door, behind the two of you, you stepped inside. The two of you made your way to your room and you stepped within, turning the heat up as high as you could, before looking around with a smile.

“Tah-dah!” You said, stretching your arms out happily.

Loki gazed blindly around the room, “It seems adequate.”

“Probably not what you’re used to.”

He shrugged, “It will suffice.”

“Here,” You guided him over to the bed and had him sit down. The sun was hitting the horizon outside and you were thankful you had made it into the safety of your home in time.

Slowly you stripped your outer layers of clothes, hanging them in the corner to let the gathered snow melt and dry for the next day’s excursion.

Loki sat stock still on the bed, back ramrod straight and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking. You ended up in a thick sweater and sweatpants with woolen socks, though you found you did not need your gloves today. It seemed the added person in the room was contributing enough heat to make you a bit warmer.

“Hey, do you have anything you want to change into…?” You trailed off realizing how dumb that sounded. Loki didn’t have a bag with him. Then again he was a sorcerer, maybe he could just magic some clothes.

Loki shut his eyes bitterly and dug his fingers into his knees. “All I have is this.”

“Well, my neighbor across the hall was your height, maybe we can scrounge up something from him. Let me go look.”

Moments’ later you were back, shivering, with a pile of the warmest clothes you could find in a hurry. As well as any necessities you thought a man Loki’s size and apparent age might appreciate, the creature comforts he might want. You dumped them on the bed.

“Did realize he was an ER tech. Or something with medicine. No wonder he was always coming home at weird hours.”

Loki lifted up a thick sweatshirt and soft black sweat pants. He shook his head irritably, “These are not fit for…” the words caught in his throat.

You sat down next to him and couldn’t stop the instinctive action of placing your hand on his thigh.

Loki stiffened at the contact.

You quickly pulled your hand away. “Sorry.” You squeaked.

Loki coughed, standing up and removing his cape. Then slowly he stripped his shirt.

You told yourself you were going to look away, you were going to give him privacy. But he just took his shirt off right in front of you.

For a moment you ogled his toned back muscles, hardened from years of dedication to his craft.

Then the moment was lost and you noticed the injuries.

“Loki.” You whispered, standing up and reaching out to touch his skin gently. A rare pale place that seemed free of bruises, cuts, scars, or other maladies.

Loki’s muscles rippled beneath your hand as he stiffened at your touch, a visible shiver running through him. Spinning around, Loki looked at you warily. “What?”

“These are fresh. Why didn’t you say the blue creature had injured you so? I didn’t know it was able to do that much damage to a god.”

“I’m not a god.” Loki spat bitterly, “I’m mortal.”

You had reached out to touch another cut still bleeding on his chest, causing Loki to hiss.

“Woman, do you always touch painful injuries, or do you make an exception for me?” He asked irritably.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Sorry.” Turning you reached for the first aid supplies your ER neighbor had kept at home. “Here, let me help.” There was anti bruising cream, sutures, and plenty of gauze. You cleaned each of the wounds as best you could, finding occasional shards of glass, rocks, or plaster in some of the deeper cuts and used tweezers to dig it out. Loki would wince from time to time at the deepest and largest pieces, but otherwise he remained mostly silent.

When you finally got to his face and his eyes, you poured warm water around them, cleaning the dried blood. “I wish I knew how to treat them.” You glanced down at the contraption on his neck, “and that thing.” You tugged on it gently.

Loki grunted, “Don’t, you’ll just dig it in worse.”

“What put that on you?”

“The Allfather, king of the nine realms.”

“Isn’t that… isn’t that your uh dad?”

“Adopted. But yes. Dear old dad.”

“That’s barbaric, you’re bleeding from it!”

Loki smiled sadly. “Indeed.”

You wrapped the gauze around his head, covering his eyes and figured it would soak up the last of the blood until it stopped, then you could remove it once again. After that, well you didn’t know what you’d do about him being unable to see. Given that Odin was part of the reason Loki was in such a predicament, you figured he wouldn’t kill you for letting his son go blind.

“Well, here.” You said after a quiet moment, helping Loki pull the hoodie on.

Loki’s red eyes stared in your direction forlornly when the hoodie was on and your hands had pulled away from him. Almost instinctually he had pulled toward you. But now, with the hoodie separating you, he shifted away once more.

“Loki?”

“Hm?” Loki hummed in response, shoulders hunched and placed his hands between his legs as he sat staring unseeing into the distance.

You wanted to ask him the last time he’d been touched, hugged, held, instead you asked, “When is the last time you slept?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Humans can’t go very long without sleep.”

“Neither can Asgardians, and yet I have often done so.”

You tilted your head curiously. “That’s not very healthy.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you reached up and rubbed his shoulder blades, knowing that was one of the lesser injured places. At first he stiffened at your touch, but slowly he seemed to relax, warily. “What are you doing?” He finally asked after a few moments.

“It calms me.” You admitted truthfully. How long had you been by yourself? You were lonely, scared, on edge. The rhythmic circles lulled you. It would be better if he had done so to you, but you knew he needed them more.

Loki looked slightly to the side of you suspiciously. “Very well.”

“Remember at the tower?”

“It has been some time.”

“You’d be in your recovery bed resting. I’d bring whatever books I could find and read to you.”

Loki smiled fondly at the memory. “You had some peculiar choices.”

“I’m not the most well read person, I’ll be honest. But you did enjoy Shakespeare.”

Loki chuckled. Round and round your hand smoothed over the soft texture of the hoodie. “Yes, he could compete with the bards of Asgard.”

“You kept telling me I should try reading a real book. I wanted to flick your nose so bad, but you weren’t so bad, you just needed someone to listen to you.”

Loki chuckled, “Not so bad.” He stifled a yawn.

“And then I discovered you could do magic. Real, powerful magic. Dr. Strange could do magic, but he was only just learning, and without the Eye of Agammoto to cheat, he was stuck learning at a human pace and now, he was pathetically behind. He didn’t know what real power was.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“It’s true! You could tell me what real magic looked like, tell me what a real sorcerer was capable of.”

Loki held out his hand and then sighed, a strangled cracking sound in his throat as he clenched his teeth.

“Loki, I didn’t mean it that way, I just. I wanted you to tell me about you. What fascinates you, what was the first book you read, when did you first ride a horse, fight a monster…?” Kiss someone… woah now where did that thought come from?

You pulled your turtleneck up to cover your cheeks.

Loki turned towards you. “You really want to know those things?”

You had stopped rubbing his back, “Yea. They sound interesting. Why not? You’re fascinating.”

“We spoke of this earlier, what do you gain?”

“Well, I hoped we were friends at the time, and I wouldn’t mind being friends now, if not allies, we’re both living in a dangerous world. I take it if you’re mortal, you’re not in Odin’s good graces and you could use someone to watch your back. I… I could do that.” You offered sheepishly.

You quailed under Loki’s blind gaze. He couldn’t physically see you, yet he could see into your soul now.

“Allies, friends?” Loki asked slowly.

You smiled at him. “Yes. And hey, maybe we can brainstorm ideas to get that nasty neck thing off you, in the morning though. I’m beat, I need to sleep.”

“Oh, right.” Loki stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To give you privacy.”

“The bed is big enough for two, besides, it’ll be warmer if we’re both in it.” You couldn’t believe you were suggesting that.

Loki turned his head down at you. “Very well.” Sitting down, he slowly removed his boots and began to fumble with his trousers.

Your eyes widened as you realized he was going to change into the sweatpants you had procured for him. You dove under the covers on your side and scrunched your eyes shut. Breathing heavily as you tried not to picture what he might look like.

The bed indented on the other side as Loki climbed in next to you.

“Pet, are you hiding?” He asked curiously. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

“No. No.” You stammered, trying to strengthen your voice and keep the pitch from being so nervous.

“Very well. Sleep well then.” Loki grunted at the contraption as he rolled over and then lay still.

You lay on your back for hours, staring up at the ceiling. It was true the bed felt much warmer with him nearby, though you weren’t sure that was actually the shared body heat so much as…

You swallowed and risked a glance towards Loki’s sleeping form. His chest rose in deep even breaths. Watching it rise and fall you began to count, slowly, steadily, you too were lulled to sleep.

#Loki x reader #Loki #Loki laufeyson #Loki friggason #Loki odinson #Loki x you #2nd person #loki x you #ficbit #multi chapter #avengers fanfic #Loki fanfic #Loki fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert

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galaxythreads · 3 years

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Should I continue fic???

I wrote up these five pages to a possible Porcelain/Append merge (kinda) and was wondering if anyone would be interested/read it if I continued on with it?

What do I mean by merge? I mean, it would be like a re-written version of Append with Hela’s background in Porcelain put in, and the entire story overall would be much darker. Just. To clarify that. XD

*Also note of warning, all my italics were removed, and I am too exhausted to and put them back in. Just...imagine it.

Five Pages:

“No!” The sound is a hoarse screech, tearing itself out of her throat and refusing to be ignored.

Hela scrambles to get her feet beneath herself, dragging her heels into the snow, leaving a long blood trail smeared in the white, crystalized snow behind her. It’s not enough. He’s taking her. She’s not going to be able to stop him.

Oh, Allfathers.

A desperate, panicked sob begins to build in her chest, applying pressure until it feels like her ribs will burst from the effort of keeping it contained. She can’t breathe. Every inhale draws the sharp, painful air of Jotunheim into her lungs, searing them as it settles into her chest. It’s so cold that it feels like her tongue is beginning to go stiff in her mouth.

She struggles in the grasp, trying to get some sort of leverage so she can fight her way out of the grip and draw a weapon, but there’s nothing she can do. With her hair wrapped firmly in the fist as well as her arm, her neck is pinned into place and leaves little room to wiggle.

Desperate, she scrambles to find some sort of way to deal with the situation. She stops trying to claw off the fingers with her left hand and starts to flex out her fingers, feeling the familiar discomforting wedge as the dwarf metal implants in her arms start to form the weapon. She’s not entirely sure what she’s planning, anything sharp and easily maneuverable, but it doesn’t matter as Odin releases her abruptly, shoving her into the hard snow.

Hela smacks against it, feeling the sensation rattle up her face, but no pain. Never any pain. She hasn’t been worthy of it since early adolescence.

“By the gods, you insufferable child!” Odin exclaims, turning around to face her. His expression is twisted into familiar incense. Well, what’s left of it. Hela’s eyes snap up toward the unfamiliar sight of hasty field bandages wrapped around Odin’s head, covering his left eye. There’s still blood on his face from where it smeared down his cheek after the attack.

It looks painful.

Good.

“How can you be so ungrateful?” Odin demands harshly. He takes a step toward her, and Hela feels herself draw back from him, fresh tears spilling down her face to trace down to her chin. Her eyes itch from how much she’s been crying, and she hates herself for showing this frailty in front of him. There are no weaknesses in front of Odin Allfather.

Hela sits up slowly, her dark hair falling over her shoulders to spill across her chest. There’s wet blood on her fingers from the earlier battle, and it leaves ugly, morbid stains on the white snow. Something’s wrong with her arm, she notes distantly, it’s barely supporting her weight. She must have broken something.

She swallows thickly, wishing her voice didn’t sound so clogged. “What do I have to be grateful for?”

Odin snarls. “I saved you.”

“Saved me?” She hasn’t found much reason to laugh since Asgard invaded Jotunheim, but this--this arouses something. Not happiness, but a bitter sort of disbelief. Anger, perhaps.

Hela laughs sharply until he strikes her. It doesn’t hurt, it never does, but a harsh feeling of shame washes over her. Her head turns with the force of the blow, and she looks toward the snow, hiding behind a curtain of long hair. She tastes blood in her mouth and feels absently for the cut on her tongue with her teeth.

“You insolent wretch. I could have damned you by leaving you.” Odin hisses, and he waits for a second, as if expectant. He’s waiting, Hela realizes, for her to come to her senses and thank him. He hasn’t changed since she saw him last. Not in the slightest.

She isn’t surprised by this, though she thinks she should be.

“I would rather that you did,” Hela murmurs, and then looks up toward her father between her hair. He stands over her, imposing as always, tressed up in armor that adds to bulk she knows he doesn’t have. He looks every inch a king at this moment. A powerful enemy. Her enemy.

She deserted. She committed treason. He has every reason to execute her at this point. She’d deserve it. She’s deserved nothing less since she was a child.

Odin’s nostrils flare and he reaches out, grabbing her arm again despite Hela’s desperate scramble to back away. His fingers are iron against her clothing, a noose to choke her with. He hauls her to her feet, yanking her forward. In the far distance, Hela can see the remains of where she knows Asgard’s camp was set up. It’s gone now, which is to be expected, the war is over.

Jotunheim lost.

Asgard won. And now she’s being returned home. She’s saved.

Norns.

Hela starts to fight him again. “I won’t go with you,” she protests, “I’d rather be damned.”

“I wouldn’t stop you,” Odin says heatedly, and the words hurt somewhere deep and quiet inside of her. “But your death would serve me nothing.”

Ah. So that’s what this is. Of course. It’s not fatherly concern, or even a base parental instinct suddenly aroused to save her from a beheading. She has not served all her use to him yet, so he will keep her. Because she’s a tool. A weapon. She’s so far from a living creature it’s a wonder that she breathes at all now.

Maybe that’s what he’ll take next.

Oh, Norns, Hela curses wildly. She can’t go back. She can’t. She can’t. She won’t survive that. Her struggles begin to grow more frantic, and Odin doesn’t let her go, because she’s not allowed anything. Not what she wants. The decade she spent as a war captive was a reperivie that’s over. He’s taking her back, and the sedirmasters will have more to do, and he’ll have more for her to kill, more for her to turn into, and--

Of course. Why is she protesting this? She’s a weapon. She’s his weapon.

Weapons have no regrets. No remorse. No emotions. No desires, or wants, or needs.

Norns.

Hela’s stomach twists, and she staggers to her knees and vomits. It’s bloody and thin, but her tongue feels swollen and her neck feels tight. Her free hand’s fingers scramble to dig into her ribs, as if they can simply remove the vile substance by clawing it out of her chest.

I can’t do this again.

The thought is a distinct contrast of sudden, deep despair to her previous frantic scrambles. Her fight has lost, because there is no escape. Norns. She closes her eyes tightly, squishing tears out onto her face in the process, and breathes out sharply.

Odin’s fingers tighten on her arm, she’s sure, to the point of bruising. It might have been more effective at intimidation if she felt it. As it is, the pressure becomes almost unbearable, and she bites on her tongue sharply.

“How weak you have become,” Odin says. His voice is toneless. But the disappointment is obvious.

And it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. She knows that she has changed. But it does matter. A part of her, she thinks, will always belong to her father. If not in body, then in mind. She wants this. His approval. She craves it.

She slaughtered cities for it.

“Go to helheim.” She whispers, trying to be snide, but bordering on desperate.

Look at you, a voice purrs in the back of her mind, dark and laughing, the goddess of death, weeping at her father’s feet, trying to be intimidating. You have become a weak creature, haven't you?

Odin sneers at her statement, but draws her back to her feet with force. Hela steps over the bloody bile, and the two of them carry forward. She seems to have vomited out her fight, because, though she stumbles on uneven footing, she doesn’t fight her father. There’s nothing she can do. If she ran from here, where would she go?

She doesn’t know if Laufey is dead, but she saw the corpse of his wife.

They draw closer to the Asgardian camp, and every footfall sends a rattle of dread up her stomach. She’s still crying, and feels like a child for it. She hasn’t cried this much since she was a child, and even then, very little. Her father never believed in tears.

“What will you do with me?” Hela whispers. She should fight, but she’s not even sure she could support her own weight without her father forcing her to move forward. “Public execution?”

“No.” Odin says derisively, as if this should have been rather obvious.

“Then what?”

“What do you think?” Odin snaps, “Your place is beside me. You are my executioner.”

But not, Hela notes with a familiar ache, your daughter. He calls her his child when it suits him, but it’s a formality. They both know what she is to him. Their relationship has never been one of warmth. If they’ve ever had a relationship to begin with.

“You will return to Asgard with me, and resume your duties. I will see to it that your recent...actions do not become public knowledge.” Odin says without looking at her. “That is what will happen to you. I do not intend to kill you, daughter.”

Hela smiles at that, knowing otherwise. Not physically, no. Perhaps not.

But he’s killed her so many times already.

Her smile drops.

Oh, gods.

This can’t be happening again. She thought she was out. Laufey promised that it was over. Norns, he was helping her. He cared. She thinks he cared. But no one she knows has ever cared for her. Maybe it, like it has been with everyone else, has been some sort of facade to beat her into submission.

It felt real.

It wasn’t.

It felt safe.

It wasn’t.

Hela sees the blood smears across the snow, the hard ice bearing the scars of war beneath thick sheets. The camp is empty, the tents set and the fires put out. The only remains that Asgard was ever here in the first place is the blood and the miscellaneous scattered around. It’s the first time she’s seen it, and she would have spit on it if she had the strength.

Hela ducks her head, breathing in the familiar frigid air. It feels sharp against her throat and lungs, but she would breathe it in forever if it meant she could stay here. Asgard has nothing for her but pain. But maybe Jotunheim had nothing for her, either. She doesn’t know. She can’t keep the lies straight in her head anymore.

Odin comes to a sudden stop, and Hela nearly stumbles over herself. The scorch of burned snow leaves a wet trail of slippery ice, but it takes her less than a second to recognize the markings. The Bifrost. It’s here. Again. This is really happening. Hela closes her eyes and feels fresh tears warm her cheeks.

I’d rather die than go back, she thinks again.

Odin turns his head up toward the sky, and Hela feels her gut tightening in apprehension. If her father notices, he doesn’t care. But he’s never cared about her before, he wouldn’t start now. “Heimdall--open the Bifrost!”

#Hela #my fics #hela odinsdottir #hela is more than a villain #odin's a+ parenting #odin fam #hela redemption #my fanfiction #???#idk #i like it #i just idk

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clevercxs · 3 years

Text

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 2]

[MORE CHAPTERS]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Word Count: 6.8k

_______________________________________________

With dawn came an uneasy feeling of dread within the Saxon warrior. Her face, distorted with worry, belied her ethereal youthfulness. She seemed to have aged an entire decade in the day it took them to reach the fortress of Beamfleot.

Beads of cold sweat glistened upon her furrowed brows. Lady Blædswith found herself anxiously gnawing at the insides of her cheeks like some famished barn rodent - though it wasn’t out of hunger. She’d bitten her chapped lips until they were stained red like fresh blood upon newly fallen snow. Her fair skin was drained of all color except for the rosy hue beneath her windblown cheeks.

Dark rings had formed beneath her pale eyes causing her to look all the more ghostly. Once filled with such vigor and spirit, her irises were now dull; lifeless even, and heavy with exhaustion. Her body, bruised and broken from the trauma she’d endured, swayed achingly with the rhythm of Sigefrid’s steed beneath her. It was by the strength of Sigefrid’s arm alone that she managed to sit upright for the duration of their travels.

She was a lamb being led to the slaughter, or frankly something far worse for a woman to endure than death itself - the wrath of men.

Unlike a lamb, or cow for that matter, Lady Blædswith didn’t have the luxury of being blissfully unaware of what lied ahead.

For the first time in a long while she was completely and utterly defenseless. Above all else, she believed it to be the scariest, most unusual feeling she’d ever known.

And she hated every second of it.

A light mist began to fall from the sky awash with ominous shades of grey. The air was humid and smelled of a storm brewing in the near distance. Thick clouds of fog encompassed each horse and rider though they began to dissipate over time. An unmistakable roll of thunder rumbled through the damp earth causing the horses to feel uneasy once more.

Lady Blædswith firmly grasped handfuls of mane between her fingers and took as deep of a breath as her ribs would allow.

For the love of God, or gods, please don’t throw me off.

Barren trees shivered in the wind, their naked limbs often snapping beneath the weight of fleeing crows and squirrels alike. Eerie branches, gnarled and twisted, extended towards the band of Danes and their princess like the very hands of Skaði herself - the Pagan goddess of winter.

The shivering princess found herself retreating into the fur pelt draped over her shoulders for warmth. Sigefrid decided she’d suffered enough from the cold, though found himself growing fond of the way his grey fur looked beneath her dark, unruly curls.

Although Lady Blædswith was born and raised in Wessex, Sigefrid could see there was something different within her; something worth saving. He could sense a feral presence bound by chains that could never be tamed - not even by him.

Odin had dealt her a great hand, and she spat it back at him by defying all odds.

____________________ ➴ ____________________

The infamous fortress of Beamfleot was a rather grim sight to behold.

The surrounding field was brown with decay. Remnants of battles past lie scattered in the weeds; broken swords, cracked shields, dented helmets, and the occasional skull or two left inside said helmets.

Its cold, uninviting walls of aged wooden planks loomed high above the approaching Danes and stretched towards the gods. Stone watch towers encompassed by cages of sharpened wooden pikes protected archers keeping watch over the land; Sigefrid and Erik’s land.

Sigefrid led his fellow Danes along a narrow path and towards the main gates. “Lady Blædswith of Wessex. Welcome, to Beamfleot. Your new home... should you want it.” His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, the corners of his lips perking into a rather menacing smile.

Lady Blædswith shook her head with confusion. “I-I do not understand. I thought you intended to sell me for ransom? T-to my father?”

Sigefrid chuckled haughtily, “Oh, for a while I did.” He tightened his arm around her waist and pressed the entirety of her back against his firm chest causing her breath to hitch. “But then I grew to like your company.” She could feel every muscle in his core flex and constrict against her frame as he held her in place. Every part of her yearned to resist his warm touch yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so… and she couldn’t understand why.

“How could I join you?” Lady Blædswith scoffed and craned her neck to face the Dane whose arm encompassed her being. “I have experienced quite enough to know better.” She pressed the palm of her hand against her dried arrow wound as if recalling the incident all over again. “You must think me a fool!“ She twisted back around and purposely bumped her back into his chest.

“I do not-“ Sigefrid growled lowly.

“Then how can you possibly expect me to trust you so soon?”

Sigefrid’s nostrils flared and his lips pursed out of bitterness; his narrowed eyes seemed to burn with a newfound frustration despite the truth behind her words. “Very well.” He huffed. “Warriors join us by the day. With word of your... capture… there will be more; all waiting for war.”

“Against who?” She urged. “Mercia? Wessex? My father?” Both kingdoms, as far as she knew, had large armies of noble and courageous men… but the average Saxon warrior was no match for a Dane like Sigefrid Thurgilson. “Tell me.”

Sigefrid smiled wickedly from ear to ear and simply responded, “You have my thanks, Lady.”

As they grew nearer, a set of heavy gates were drawn open revealing the inside of Beamfleot. Lady Blædswith could hear Danes of all walks of life applauding their Lord’s fruitful return. Once through the gates and inside, Hæsten rode up beside them and nudged her boot with his own. She kicked him back, harder, causing him to curse beneath his breath.

With the sound of the gates closing behind her and locking in place, all hopes she had of escaping fell into a pit of despair; of defeat.

The two Danes proceeded to ride through the village, passing by mothers joyfully embracing their children and drunken men clinking horns of ale together.

“Lord.”

“Yes?” Sigefrid drew slowly out of exasperation. “Speak.”

“How does she feel? Warm?” Hæsten’s serpent tongue grazed over the bottom of his busted lip. His eyes dilated at the mere thought of his hands ravishing Lady Blædswith’s womanhood. He believed it to be what she deserved for not only being a Saxon, but publicly humiliating him and nearly taking his life in front of everyone.

“Rich, as she should.” Sigefrid leaned forward and firmly pressed his lips to the back of her hair, exchanging a sly grin with Hæsten before leaning back. “She is priceless.”

Lady Blædswith felt completely numb; frozen in time as the world around her faded to a blur. Danes began clawing at her legs once more and tugged at her clothes. No one knew of her identity thus far but some had their suspicions. It was clear she was of grave importance to their Lord, therefore she had a great value.

She remained stoic; her attention fixated on the large building up ahead with pits of seductive flames dancing in front of frostbitten Danes.

Hot tears streamed down her flushed cheeks yet she kept quiet; there was nothing she could say that would matter to anyone - assuming she could even get them to listen in the first place.

Lady Blædswith could feel each tear dripping from her chin and falling onto the dense fur around her neck, one she wished could shield her face from the dirty looks she received as Sigefrid paraded her around.

“I bring you King Alfred’s eldest daughter! I swear to the gods… that this prize will not be sold cheaply. There will be wealth and glory for every man here!” An uproar of cheering and laughter rang out from children of all ages, the elderly, returning warriors and even slaves who’d taken a break from their chores to gape in awe.

They hoped they would have an easier week ahead of them now that a new woman had been introduced, so they celebrated her capture without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Sigefrid marveled triumphantly at the celebration that had begun in his honor. He could hear his name being praised and chanted loud enough to be heard for miles, a sound he would never tire of.

After the crowd simmered down he was the first to dismount. His boots, upon doing so, struck the earth like the mighty hammer of Thor. He reached up and grabbed Lady Blædswith by her waist as best as he could without harming her with his hand-blade nor disrupting her broken ribs. It was a rather tedious task.

The Lord of Beamfleot decided it was worth the risk of impaling King Alfred’s daughter if it meant no other man would lie a hand on her.

By the hour he found himself increasingly selfish and greedy; hungry with lust and a burning desire of having a princess all to himself in the interim of negotiating a price for her release.

She carefully dismounted and found herself clinging to Sigefrid’s armor for support. The warmth of her hands seeped through his leather attire causing his breathing to hitch for a moment. His hand remained a constant upon her waist until she found her balance. They held each other’s gaze a moment too long before she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. You can let go, now.”

With a sigh, Sigefrid rolled his eyes and stepped back just in time for a friendlier face to arrive by his side. Whoever he was, he seemed to have missed the big announcement.

“Sigefrid? Who is this woman?”

“Erik!” Sigefrid clapped a hand to his brothers shoulder and brought him closer to see her. “This is King Alfred’s daughter.”

Erik’s lips formed an ‘o’ before he stepped even closer out of sheer curiosity.

When Lady Blædswith looked up she met a pair of gentle blue eyes underlined with kohl. He had a small, rounder face than Sigefrid decorated in thick scars and smudges of dirt. It seemed Erik had been kept rather busy in his brother’s absence. Below his button nose was a short, dirty-blonde beard bound by a single ring of silver. Similar to Sigefrid, his head was shaved at the sides and his hair was knotted into a short braid down his neck.

“How did you come across her?” Erik asked over his shoulder though quickly turned back when she answered for his brother.

“My men and I were ambushed on our way to Mercia. They were all slaughtered in cold blood and I was taken as a hostage.”

Erik’s brows furrowed as he gently caressed the side of her bruised cheek with the tops of his knuckles, retracting his hand after she winced in pain.

“She is unwell, brother. Who did this to her?”

Lady Blædswith looked around to see if anyone would try to stop her from confessing. When she looked to Sigefrid he averted his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hæsten.” She croaked, “But Sigefrid stopped him before it was too late.” The mere mention of his name through her lips caused Sigefrid’s chest to constrict.

“Lady,” Erik took a step closer with his hands raised to show her he meant well, “I would like to see what Hæsten did to you.”

She scoffed. “You want me to undress, here, in front of everyone? In the cold?”

Erik nodded with a sigh, acknowledging the extent of his request.

“Are you mad?” She then turned to face Sigefrid. “Sigefrid you can’t let him-“

“I can, and I will. Take off your fur, Lady. Now. We want to see such a woman in all her beauty!” The eldest Thurgilson pressed firmly, asserting himself to the Saxon woman who so boldly spoke out against him.

Exhaling slowly, she allowed the fur to drape down her arms and pool at her wrists before falling to the ground. The back of her neck was scorching hot as hundreds of eyes watched her every move.

“I’d like that back.” The princess wore a long sleeved shirt beneath a leather vest tied in the back like a corset. Her chainmail armor had been torn to pieces and left in the clearing where she was ambushed.

“Now, your vest.” Sigefrid motioned with his blade.

Lady Blædswith slowly reached behind her to untie the laces of her vest but stopped halfway, wincing as pain coursed through her body. “Damn!” She hissed, “I can not.” Her hand tightly clutched her right shoulder as she cried out in pain. “I can not lift my arms high enough to do so.”

Erik’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Why is that?”

“Well,” She gulped dryly, “it would appear that I’ve been struck by a bloody arrow! So I will not be taking it off.”

“Then I will. Allow me to be of... assistance.” Hæsten cooed as he slithered past the Thurgilson brothers.

“No!” Sigefrid and Lady Blædswith shouted in unison, leaving Erik unable to determine who’d taken greater offense to Hæsten’s offer. It struck Erik that perhaps Lady Blædswith meant more to his brother than he’d let on.

“Leave us, Hæsten. Now.” Sigefrid dismissed.

Hæsten swore to himself once more and passed by Lady Blædswith, though stopped dead in his tracks after she grabbed his wrist. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.” She whispered by his ear. “One day I shall make you beg for mercy as I did. Only your Lord won’t be there to save you like he did with me.”

“Sigefrid needed you alive. He knew he couldn’t hump a corpse.” Hæsten sneered, only to be knocked off balance by her forehead slamming into his nose - causing it to break and ooze blood down his lips. Before he could raise his fist Erik grabbed him by the forearm and redirected the hostile Dane elsewhere. Hæsten brushed shoulders with the younger Thurgilson before searching for a slave to take his aggressions out on.

Lady Blædswith caught sight of Sigefrid with his bottom lip between his teeth, concealing a coy smirk of amusement as his chest shook with laughter. He ran a hand over his devilish beard before strolling towards her.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

The Dane shrugged. “Mmm….Maybe I did? Though Hæsten was right. I needed you alive.”

“So you could hump me, is that it?” She yanked him down to her eye level by the collar of his leather armor and narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me.” The princess hissed through gritted teeth and released him with a shove.

Sigefrid chuckled to himself after regaining his stance. “Oh? Is that right?” He’d caught onto the game she dared to play without realizing she’d awoken the beast within him. It was risky of her to challenge such a man of Sigefrid’s reputation, but she couldn’t help it. It was simply in her nature. After all, what had she to lose?

“It is. Besides, I would slit my own throat before bedding a Dane, especially you.”

Sigefrid laughed heartily, evoking Erik and the surrounding Danes to harmonize with him as they mocked the injured woman.

“I mean it. Lord or not, I don’t give a damn.”

“That is enough, Lady. Turn around.” She sighed and did as she was told, now facing Erik who passed her a subtle grin. Sigefrid began working the laces out of their knots until her vest fell open in his hands. Once it was discarded he tore the sleeve from her shirt to reveal the main source of her discomfort.

Sigefrid and Erik visibly cringed at the sight - and smell - of her wound seeing fresh air for the first time. She handled the pain better than Sigefrid expected she would, and by a long shot, her strong will to live had exceeded his expectations.

Lady Blædswith had the face of a beautiful Saxon woman... but the heart of a Dane.

“Sigefrid, if you value Hæsten’s life you will keep him away from me. I will not hesitate to defend myself against him. He still wishes me dead.”

Sigefrid narrowed his intimidating gaze into her eyes. He knew she was right; Hæsten, almost as much as himself, couldn’t keep away from the Saxon princess.

“I do not take orders from you, princess!” The dark haired Thurgilson growled. “You should be glad to still have your tongue.”

The sound of gravel crunching beneath the steady rhythm of boots caused them both to look up as Erik approached.

Heavier droplets of rain began to fall upon their heads as forbidding clouds lurked overhead causing some to retreat indoors for warmth.

“Enough, Sigefrid. We need to get her inside before she freezes to death.”

“Very well, Erik. She is coming with me.” Sigefrid roughly grasped onto the princess’s forearm.

“Wait!” Lady Blædswith shouted, tugging her arm free of Sigefrid’s calloused grip before pulling her torn shirt up and beneath her bra line for all to see. Dark, unpleasant blotches of purple and green had appeared overnight as the pain worsened. It looked - and felt - as if she had been kicked by a horse when both brothers knew the truth.

“You have broken ribs... Hæsten did this as well?” Erik frowned solemnly, receiving a nod from the princess as she covered herself up once more. Sigefrid took a rather possessive hold of her hand in his and squeezed it tightly to ensure she wouldn’t slip away.

��It will not happen again, Lady. You have my word.” The sincerity of Erik’s words was as refreshing as a cold drink on a hot summer day. However, she had to remind herself that he was no saint.

Erik Thurgilson was the lesser of two evils. Lady Blædswith couldn’t help but feel safer around him despite the fact that he was Sigefrid’s younger brother.

The princess mouthed a quiet thank you and passed the blonde Dane a frail smile before Sigefrid pulled her towards the Mead Hall.

“Sigefrid, you will not hurt her.” Erik demanded of his hot-headed brother whose mind was already made up. Lady Blædswith stumbled behind him in an attempt to keep up with his long stride to avoid being dragged through the mud.

“I will do as I please.” Sigefrid laughed with a smirk. Erik couldn’t help but shake his head in disapproval, now trailing behind to ensure no further harm came to King Alfred’s daughter.

“Try, and see what happens!” With a loud huff Lady Blædswith dug the heels of her boots into the dirt causing him to stop and face her. “Your hand won’t be the only thing missing from your body when I am through with you.” As their faces drew closer a single white cloud was formed from their sharp breaths intertwining. Suddenly she felt the pad of his thumb flicking over her bottom lip and resting upon her chin as he held her gaze.

“You have a sharp tongue, Lady.” Sigefrid snarled, his nose scrunching with vexation. She could feel the warmth of his breath upon her lips. “That will get you in trouble.”

“How fitting.” The princess muttered and swatted his hand away before he snatched it back it in his own. “That seems to be all I am good for lately.”

____________________ ➴ ____________________

A frigid breeze nipped away at her face and had crept beneath the tattered remains of her clothes, spreading across her skin as if she were trapped in the frozen realm of Nifelheim.

Her hands, tucked away in the cavities of her armpits, were painfully numb to the touch. Her pale lips had turned a bluish hue and her teeth chattered with the unsteady rhythm of her breathing. The nearest fire pit was just out of reach no matter how far she stretched her arm; it was close enough to tempt her like the Forbidden Fruit to Eve, yet remained unattainable despite her efforts.

Lady Blædswith fell heavy with exhaustion after frantically searching for a way out; a weak plank of wood, a loose nail… nothing. She had repeatedly thrown herself at the locked gate, crying out in frustration each time whilst doing more harm to herself than the filthy cage that confined her. Its rusty bars remained stationary yet they closed in on her all the same, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of claustrophobia curdling within her.

A shroud of darkness had enveloped her broken wings, for Lady Blædswith was a flightless bird.

Occasionally she found peace by slipping into an unconscious state, only to be startled awake by ungodly booms of thunder or Danes clinking horns of ale along the metal bars. Even a brood of clucking chickens strutted past her, showing off their boundless freedom before Danish children chased them outside. Curious hounds sniffed around the princess from time to time, trying to determine whether or not she was to become their next meal, or perhaps just something to urinate on.

And by the smell of it, they chose the latter.

An overwhelming series of events had occurred in the mere day or so she’d been in the Thurgilson brothers’ possession. Evidently, the Saxon princess began to lose track of time.

How long had she been trapped here? For a few hours? Days? And how long had Sigefrid allowed his men to tease and taunt her whilst she lay curled in a ball, weeping as a small child would? Praying to her God who seemed to have turned a blind eye once and for all?

From beyond the shadowy gloom of the dimly lit hall came a tall silhouette carrying something. Lady Blædswith found herself scrambling to the furthest corner from the gate out of fear of her approacher’s intentions. When they stepped closer to the cage their face became visible beneath the chandelier hanging overhead, revealing it to be Erik Thurgilson with a fur pelt in his arms.

She had ill-heartedly anticipated it to be Hæsten returning for a helping of spiteful revenge.

“Are you ready to talk, Lady? I brought you something warm.” Erik gestured the fur towards her, receiving a frantic nod as she rose to her bare feet. Sigefrid had ushered everyone out of the hall and into the cold, barring the doors behind them. He then found himself drawn to her cage like a moth to candlelight, watching wearily as Erik retrieved a key from his pocket and opened the gate. He carefully set the fur down for Lady Blædswith before locking her in once more.

Collapsing to her knees with a gasping sigh of relief, the trembling princess wrapped the thick pelt over her body and curled into a ball, now teetering back and forth on her tailbone. Sigefrid and Erik pulled up a carved bench and made themselves comfortable for what they anticipated to take some time: interrogating the rogue daughter of King Alfred of Wessex.

“I shall t-tell you everything you wish to know,” She shivered, “b-but only if you release me from this wretched cage where I am to remain under your protection. I am not a damned chicken… This cage is rather small for a princess.” Lady Blædswith quirked a dark brow. She smirked ever so slightly and allowed her gaze to fall deep into Sigefrid’s lap, “I expected it to be… bigger.” She so crudely joked, catching both brothers by surprise at her sudden vulgarity.

Humor, of all things, seemed to keep her sane even through the worst of days.

Sigefrid’s eyes glimmered as he chuckled into the palm of his hand as he stroked the length of his sleek, raven beard.

“I like her.” Sigefrid cooed, turning to face his better half though his eyes remained glued to his Saxon prisoner.

“Perhaps too much.” Erik grinned teasingly, “Shall I leave, brother?”

Sigefrid shook his head and sighed. “No, stay.” He then directed his full attention to the princess. “I accept your terms, Lady. It is done.” He muttered, “You will be freed... And, you may be surprised how well such a cage would… suit your needs.” Sigefrid smirked devilishly at the witty Saxon, displaying teeth as sharp and frightening as knives. Her heart seemed to beat faster in a dizzying manner that her breathing could not keep up with.

How was he menacing yet alluring at the same time? How could she loathe such a man yet want nothing more than to be in his presence? To hear the low growl of his voice sent shivers down her spine in the most pleasant of ways. She craved the danger; the unpredictability of his Pagan nature. It was all so new and enticing to the Saxon woman whose recurring thoughts have been far from Holy. He was her enemy; her kidnapper. Sigefrid Thurgilson was a deviously charming Dane with an edge of mystery to his every whim. She believed if he had intended to do her harm, he would have done so already.

Her only dilemma was that she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for Lunden… not now, anyways.

Sigefrid Thurgilson held the power to decide her fate; whether or not she lived or died — and how. He had chosen wisely thus far, and appeared to see Lady Blædswith in all her grandeur.

Erik Thurgilson spoke uncomfortably,, “I must be going-”

“No! Stay.” Lady Blædswith chirped. “I am ready to talk… But only to you, Erik. You have shown me a great kindness.” She directed at the blonde Thurgilson. “As for your brother… not so much. He is the reason I almost died at Hæsten’s hand.” She spat at him through the cage. “I will never forget that, Heathen.”

A loud stomp echoed throughout the hall as the floorboard beneath Sigefrid’s boot nearly cracked. “I am the reason you are still alive. Do not forget that.” Sigefrid leaned forward, pressing his elbow into his knees. He slowly unsheathed his hand-blade and sneered mockingly, “Christian.”

“Perhaps what my brother is trying to say is… we would greatly appreciate your... cooperation.” Erik grinned sheepishly as a low growl rumbled within his brother’s throat. “Where were you headed, Lady, with the king’s men? You said you were headed for Mercia when Sigefrid… found… you. Is this true?”

Lady Blædswith nodded with a troubled sigh. “Yes, it is true. I was headed North to visit my sister, Lady Æthelflæd. I traveled with my men; they were loyal to me, and to me only. And in return I led them to their deaths.” A light shudder rippled through her body as she fought the urge to dispel the meat they fed her earlier.

“To see the Queen of Mercia — yes. But why?” Sigefrid’s brows furrowed tightly together in uncertainty.

Lady Blædswith inhaled sharply. “I thought... we could be of use to each other. I sought her protection, and Mercia needs warriors with my skillset.” She feared she had already revealed too much, but there was no turning back now.

“You do not have King Alfred’s protection?” Erik frowned and rose to his feet, taking firm hold of a metal rod in each hand. He was unsure of what to make of her words.

Lady Blædswith chuckled and shook her head, wet strands of hair falling over her eyes, “No, no. Of course I do not. He is the one I sought protection from! For years I have drowned in my father’s politics but I have had enough!” She shouted angrily, causing both brothers to flinch ever so slightly. “I met suitor after suitor... they never stopped asking for my hand in marriage. Strange men; always foreign and often old enough to be my father…. or grandfather.” She could feel herself fighting back a sob brewing within her throat.

The Thurgilson brothers exchanged sour looks of disgust.

“I can not imagine what you have been through, Lady.” Erik soothed and leaned closer to her cage. “No father should force his daughter to wed, not even a King.”

Lady Blædswith smiled softly at Erik, though noticed the way Sigefrid had began glaring down at her. She felt almost obligated to explain herself, “I-I never loved any of my suitors — I couldn’t. I was always able to scare them away, and Alfred resented me for it. I humiliated him, time and time again, in front of numerous princes and lords… until one day he found a man most unafraid of my strong will…”

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid snapped resentfully. Erik could see a blazing pain of jealousy ignite within his brother. “Who is this man you speak of?”

“I am engaged to a Frenchman whose name I can hardly pronounce nor remember. He has…” She motioned to the top of her head, “...thinning, grey hair like a corpse! I have heard the servants’ whispers, and they say he is a cruel man. He hates women, especially women like me.” Lady Blædswith rose to her knees and crawled a few feet closer to the brothers, no longer apprehensive of their presence. “He remains in Wessex with my father but I doubt they will send scouts to find me. I may not be worth the trouble... But if they did, they will not succeed.”

“Your fiancé fears a woman so strong; so unafraid to will her own destiny.” Erik smiled and took a seat. “He sounds a cowardly prick. You deserve far better, Lady. A man who is your equal-”

“Silence your flattery, brother.” Sigefrid snapped with a harsh jab of his elbow into Erik’s arm. “Continue.”

She nodded and did as commanded,

“I told King Alfred of the rumors I heard but he did not believe me…. and God forbid I seek proof for myself - I knew better than that. The moment my own mother, Lady Aelswith, decided to support the marriage I knew there was no longer a life for me in Wessex. I no longer had allies; no loyal family left but in Mercia. One night, on a whim, I simply gathered my things and left with the few men I could gather…” She sighed heavily and allowed her shoulders to droop. “We later passed through Lunden and, well, you both know what happened next.”

The Mead Hall fell silent, only to be disturbed by the frantic pounding of fists upon the main doors and a voice asking for Lord Erik. “If you will excuse me,” He rose to his feet and slipped the key into his pocket instead of trusting it with Sigefrid; this did not go unnoticed by his brother nor the princess.

Although Lady Blædswith asked to be freed, and Sigefrid agreed to uphold her request, Erik knew she was safer behind bars where no Dane could harm her - not even Sigefrid or Hæsten.

Erik made his way through the doors and was virtually out of sight. Alone, in the wet darkness of the Mead hall sat a Saxon beauty and her beast.

“Why did you kill the man who shot me?” Lady Blædswith wasted no time in bluntly asking her most burning question. “You did not know who I was. I was but a Saxon woman, y-you’re enemy.” Crawling towards the gate, she rested the palms of her hands against a wooden plank.

“He acted on Hæsten’s orders, not mine nor Erik’s. It did not matter... whether or not I knew you were Alfred’s daughter.” Sigefrid looked up from his lap and appeared unusually calm; sympathetic, almost. “I have never seen a woman fight as you do, Lady Blædswith of Wessex. Not even a Danish shieldmaiden could compare. Sparing you... went against everything I stand for… everything!” He slammed his hand down on the bench beside him. “But you were worth saving.”

He then paused, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were truly alone. “And I would do it again... without hesitation.” Sigefrid sighed in defeat, not wanting to accept the fact of the matter but it was true.

She was taken aback by his confession, unsure of what to say or do. Ever so carefully she reached above her head and took hold of metal bars, helping herself to her feet. The cage was barely tall enough for her to stand upright but she managed. “You still believe me to be worth saving even though I am in ruins?” She asked in disbelief and Sigefrid nodded.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for sparing my life, Lord. All day I have feared Beamfleot; you, Hæsten, Erik… and everyone else. But now I fear returning home, how foolish is that? Despite the unbearable conditions I have been kept in, here…. I would gladly choose it over the life my father has planned for me.”

With a grunt Sigefrid suddenly rose to his feet, turning away whilst repeatedly running a calloused hand over his face.

“You do not wish to sell me for ransom… do you?”

“I am… conflicted, Lady.” He turned around on the heels of his boots to face her, “As you are. I promised my men wealth and glory, but they do not see you are priceless.” Frustrated by the decision at hand, Sigefrid neared a long table set with platters of food and cups of ale, and with one big sweep of his arm sent dishes crashing to the floor with a loud yell. “Damnit!”

Now seething with sudden rage, Sigefrid abandoned the princess and strode towards the doors to find his brother, only to be stopped by her shouting, “Stop!”

As if compelled by the gods Sigefrid found himself immobilized a mere foot from the door. The princess sniffled beneath the pelt now draped over her head and wiped away tears from her cheeks. “Sigefrid you will not receive what you desire from King Alfred.” She confessed, knowingly signing her own death sentence.

She heard his loud boot steps approaching as he breathlessly snapped, “What? What do you mean, woman?”

“I mean you have the wrong daughter!” She sobbed, watching as the Dane before her grew increasingly hostile and agitated by her words. “I was never his favorite child, never! He cared for me once but my constant defiance has shamed him beyond repair. Why would a king pay a fortune for a disobedient princess whom he no longer loves? He does not value me as a skilled warrior like you do, I am simply a pawn. If and when he negotiates a price… you will not be satisfied with it.”

“Are you saying I should have killed you in the woods?”

“No! And I am grateful you did not. I thank… I thank the gods that you see some greater value in me than my own father, b-because at least I-I know I matter to someone.” The princess choked on her own tears and displayed her aching heart on her chest. “For better or for worse, I matter to you.”

“You speak often of my gods.” Sigefrid folded his arms over his chest and began walking in a circle around her cage. “Have you lost faith in your God?”

She squeezed her ocean eyes shut and nodded, fishing down the collar of her shirt for the wooden cross hung around her neck. She took it in her hand and yanked the necklace from her person. “He has ignored my prayers for longer than I can remember. He turned my own family against me… my own kingdom. I prayed to Him before I fought Hæsten… and I lost miserably.” She gently laid the broken necklace on the floor before spitting on it. “I could never bring myself to denounce Him, but I feel I may soon. Meeting you has been the ultimate test of my faith, Lord.”

Heaven lost an angel the day Princess Blædswith met Sigefrid Thurgilson.

When she opened her eyes she saw that Sigefrid had reclaimed his place on the bench, nursing his hand-blade, slowly working the buckles to relieve his discomfort.

“Who did that to you?”

Sigefrid glared up at her for daring to ask when he assumed she knew. “Your Lord, Uhtred.” Sigefrid groaned, struggling to free his stump from the gnarly contraption.

“I am… sorry he did that to you. I hope it brings you peace knowing I no longer serve Uhtred Ragnarsson.”

“Oh?” He disregarded the buckles on his hand and allowed it to rest upon his knee. “Who do you serve, Lady?”

She scoffed with a smile and leaned her back against the bars, “I serve myself, as hard as it may be to believe. All men who have tried before have failed. For a short while I was sworn to Uhtred of Bebbanburg. I fought by his side and loved every moment of it.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Well, it was not up to me. King Alfred welcomed the idea of his daughters learning to protect themselves. Growing up, Æthelflæd and I trained with the captain of my family’s guards, a man named Steapa. Unlike my sister who was married off to a pig’s ass named Æthelred-”

“-A pig’s ass!” Sigefrid shouted with amusement. “How fitting.”

“He is but a shit stain upon my boot as I have come to know. I fear no man, but he… he is no man.”

“Will you tell me about him?”

“I shall, another time.” She grinned and continued her story, “I pursued my skills in fighting, and once I was good enough Uhtred gladly took me under his wing despite my father’s wishes. Uhtred taught me that not all Danes are cruel and merciless. I am hoping that to be true of yourself and Erik. He seems a kind man.”

Sigefrid nodded in response to her compliment. “He is a good man. I would be lost without his head.”

“I have no doubt.” She teased with a mournful grin. “I wish I could say the same for my father - that he is a good man. It was not easy for Uhtred to let me go but he was ordered by King Alfred to do so. He took away everything I had; my freedom, my happiness. I lost not only my own blood, but Uhtred and his men. I was suddenly… alone.” She glanced at Sigefrid through eyes blurred with tears. “My sister is all I have left. God forbid she turns on me, too. I am not sure what I would do.”

“What are you prepared to do?” Sigefrid cocked his head to the side and attempted to decipher her words. “Are you prepared to kill your own sister? A queen?”

“Is that what you would like me to do?” She scoffed. “Would you kill Erik? Your brother? Surely not.” Lady Blædswith challenged, not able to help herself from feeling defensive over Lady Æthelflæd’s life. The entire hall fell silent except for the sound of rain falling in sheets upon the roof. Sigefrid shifted uneasily in his seat and allowed for his head to hang below his shoulders.

“I… would be lost without Erik.” He repeated quietly, craning his neck to nod at her before returning his undivided attention to the screwy buckles on his hand-blade.

Fascinated by Sigefrid’s troubling efforts the princess blurted, “May I see it? Your hand?”

Sigefrid’s face hardened with shame and distrust. “No.” He hissed and turned away from her like a stubborn child refusing his vegetable dinner. “You may not.”

She took a calming breath and knelt before the gate. “I can take it off and help soothe your pain-”

“Why would you want to help me, woman?” He continued to fumble with the buckles though frustration clouded his focus.

“Well… I’m sure Uhtred had his reasons but no man deserves that. Not a Dane, not even my father.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe my father.”

Sigefrid paused with a grin, and looked up though his gaze refused to find the Saxon woman kneeling before him. “Not even a Dane holding you hostage?”

She gulped dryly and shook her head. “No, not even him.” Her eyes met his longing gaze and the world seemed to stop spinning; the heavy downpour even ceased to fall. “I will not hurt you, Sigefrid. I could not bring myself to.”

Sigefrid contemplated whether or not to expose to her his blessèd curse of an arm; his most loathsome insecurity that had only damned the eyes of his dearest brother. Would she see him as less of a man? Weak; vulnerable, even? The Lord of Chaos decided he was willing to let his guard down as she had done. Perhaps the gentle touch of a woman was all he needed. Though it may not ease his pain entirely, it would surely lift his spirits and remind him why he initially spared her life. He took great pleasure in her company, though not without dreading what was to come of her and his decisions left unmade. With a definitive nod he agreed,

“Very well.”

_______________________________________________

Author’s Note: This was more of a filler/informational chapter regarding *some* of Lady Blædswith’s background. I promise chapters 3+ will be more action packed. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! ;)

(FYI, reading all of Sigefrid’s lines in his voice makes it 10x better)

TAGS: @finantheagile @inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously Feel free to ask to be added to the tag list xx

#The Last Kingdom #vikings #fanfic #sigefrid #sigefrid thurgilson #sigefrid thurgilson fanfic #tlk fanfiction #Uhtred Ragnarson #finan #finan the agile #finan tlk #bjorn bengtsson #morgana #katie mcgrath #mark rowley #uhtred #alexander dreymon #arnas fedaravicius #Sihtric

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scribeofmorpheus · 3 years

Text

Himmeløyne [23/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Angst???

A/N: Please check out my original story, The Abstract Dark (previously: Our Lady of Darkness), for some spooks, a little witch-craft under moonlight, and terryfying vampyre-like things! (18+ mature content)

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The armour took the brunt of the impact as soon as the portal blinked out of existence, seizing the world of Verdenspeil in a swirl of oblivion.

A grunt left your throat, then your ears picked up on Baldrick’s noise of discomfort—he had landed on his arm funny, but nothing seemed broken.

“Are you okay?” you helped him to his feet.

The boy nodded, eyes fixed on the fallen dagger a few paces across the room.

There was a pedestal in the centre of the room, a keyhole of a four-pronged star in the centre made for the dagger on the floor—the dagger Sigrid gave you.

You stood up to take a better look at Mímir’s Tomb. The circular room gleamed silver and gold from the armours of giant statuesque figures chained onto open tombs built into the walls. Their design was similar to the Valkyrie armour you now wore, only cruder from warring, from wear and tear. That revelation gave you pause for concern, if there were signs of use, there may be signs of the life that once inhabited the armour.

Baldrick walked over to the dagger, then on his tippy toes, wedged it into the keyhole slot and turned it counter-clockwise. Just as Sköll and Hati chase after the sun and moon in endless circles, the room began to turn like a drum racing downhill.

The spinning was so intense you feared you’d throw up. Baldrick held onto the pedestal and kept his eyes shut. From the ceiling, a contraption lowered a stone platform. As it descended, the room began to stop spinning, and the armoured figures began to stir.

“Baldrick,” you ushered him close to you, shielding him with your arm as he grabbed your cyan blue cloak that swept the floor. The swish and swing of blades being drawn emanated from the sheaths of the armoured figures.

You swallowed, holding your breath. Fingers birthing blue aura in anticipation of a fight. Then, with a loud and deafening thud, the platform locked onto a triangular dip in the floor, a head floating in a curtain of magic and light.

One armoured figure took a step, and as you raised your hand defensively, Baldrick whispered: “No.”

The armoured figure cluttered to the floor, scattering into hundreds of pieces—as did all the others. A helmet rolled to Baldrick’s feet, ornate, a golden set of horns shaped like an elk’s. With childish wonder, fear wiped off his face and he picked up the helmet and put it on, turning to smile with bright teeth at you.

You laughed, unexpectedly and wholeheartedly. It was a rare gift to see pure, unrestrained joy come from nothing. This little boy in front of you carried a connection, his magic made a home in yours, made itself feel like it had been there for years, like it was beyond familiarity. You knew he was manipulating your emotions, perhaps without even realising it, but for some inexplicable reason, you weren’t worried.

The wisps of your magic died down, then the head spoke: “I’d recognise that magic anywhere… You’ve been touched by the Stone of the Ancients.”

You turned to the head, an opal gemstone for one eye, and sky blues like your own for the other. His hair was grey and long, worn with Viking braids and beads knotted on the ends of a few dreaded strands. His beard was thin and braided, tribal tattoos on either side of his temple in the form of roots of the World Tree.

“Mímir,” you said.

“The one and only,” he winked. “Come closer, let me have a better look at you. My eyesight isn’t what it was, being locked away in the cold dark for over a millennia will do that to you.”

You and Baldrick moved closer to Mímir’s line of sight.

“Your eye, it is as mine,” you said.

“A gift from my sister,” he said with a wistful tinge. His focus turned to Baldrick with interest. Recognition. “You, boy, I know you—of you. Your essence is blindingly radiant. So much power for such a small thing. Frightening. World spanning. You—Yes! It is you that I dreamt of all those years ago—you will war with the brother. You will be the Herald of Twilight. Herald of the end!”

Baldrick did not react to the words that he heard, he only blinked slow, lethargic with growing fatigue.

You instinctively wrapped a protective arm around the boy's frame, taking a step back. Mímir turned his sights back on you, squinting. “And you… You are the last of the Himmel Kvinner. Your fate will be that of tragedy and truth. Love and despair. Life and the expanse of space between living and death. You are the Forgotten One.” He quieted in contemplation, sighing deeply with burden. “I see. Yes, I see now. The prince… he sleeps, does he not?”

“H-How do you know that?”

Mímir smirked, “My knowledge is infinite. I see all. And I see nothing. That is why the Allfather trapped me here. Once, I could see through the very weavings of time itself. Beyond realms. Beyond the limits of my body. Now I see remembrances of what I once dreamt. I am but a fraction of what I was. But even beheaded, I am still the wise Mímir, the first to drink from the well of knowledge. The first to be granted the vision of the Stone of the Ancients. The last pureblood heir to the House of Bölþorn the Just.” At the invocation of his house and title, Mímir’s skin turned to a proud, Jotun blue and then back to pale.

“Then you know of a way to wake him?”

“I see patience is lost on you. A millennia and my first guests cannot even humour an old man the chance to goad.” The head laughed, bemused by your dismissal of his grand introduction. “Very well. No, I cannot help you, but I keep the one who does.”

“What do you mean by keep?”

“Her reliquaries, your boy here immobilised them just by thinking it.”

“The statues?”

“Yes. Twenty-seven suits of armour for the twenty-seven pieces of my sister that Bor hacked with his axe.”

“Your sister?”

“Bestla.”

“Bor did that to Bestla? I thought they were lovers. Why would he do that his own wife?”

“Wife?” Mímir shouted the word as if it were a preposterous thing. “Ha! Is that the spin the Æsir are using now? Wiping away the blood from their history books, I see. Bestla was never Bor’s wife! Not by choice. She was his peace treaty. His flesh and blood armistice with the Jotuns after the Dark Alliance threatened to end the war; with him on the losing side!” His real eye flashed, lips moving with no sound. A spell had been cast. “I’ll let her speak for herself.”

Torches burst in blue flame. Suddenly, Jotun script burned to life, etching itself into the wall beside the moving tapestries of what could only be living history.

“It has been a long time since I ever saw our histories unfold on these walls,” Mímir sighed, half sadness, half gratitude. “It will be a refreshing change of pace, having someone know of the true story.”

Baldrick, drawn to the magic, began to read aloud, his tongue picking up the Jotun language with fluency. Dust, once housed in the shattered pieces of armour, began to materialise into a cloud. It roped around the room in an orb-like shape, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

Then, after Baldrick read the final inscription aloud, a piercing pain brought you to your knees. The mark of Odin sparking with life, a scream leaving your lips. Somehow the mark was interfering with the spell Baldrick had just unknowingly cast.

“Oh, no-no-no-no!” Mímir panicked. “You were marked. Quick, boy, grab one of the reliquary’s swords and hold it over the flame. Sorry, lass, but this will sting, we have to sever the mark’s connection to Odin’s magic.”

Baldrick rushed to do as Mímir said, his little feet working hurriedly. When he reached you, the sword that was too big for his grip glowed with the heat of the blue flames, threatening to bring a whole new kind of pain

“What will happen to me once the Ægishjalmar is gone?” you squeezed the raw muscle near your mark. Your mind flashed to the battle in the throne room again. To the frostbite of unbridled power.

“I know what you fear. I saw the battle in the throne room. I saw what you became because of Odin’s magic. The power you wield will be your own, I assure you, lass.” Mímir’s cadence was truthful, assured.

“Will it be dangerous?” you asked. “My magic?”

“All magic is dangerous, lass. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner you find balance.”

Baldrick searched your expression, needing to know whether to proceed or not. With a bitter taste in your mouth—partly for not wanting him to have to do something so hard, partly for your own sake—you bit down on a belt strap and nodded.

The burn was subliminal compared to having Odin’s passive magic seared out of you. It was like having a piece of you stolen without ever realising it was there to begin with. When the smell of burning flesh diffused, and the blade dropped to the ground, you felt dizzy, not as sober as before.

The magic that was denied to complete itself before was now free to continue without the resistance of Odin’s magic. The dust from the reliquaries wasn’t dust at all, they were ashes, the vestiges of Bestla.

The ashes coalesced into a physical mimicry of Bestla—and she looked every bit as fierce and beautiful as she had in the book. Tall, strong arms, midnight hair, long and thick to her tailbone. The red of her Jotun eyes was diluted, cloudy. And the tribal markings painted on her face and arms was of a powdered white. She was a vision. Demanding. Anomalistic.

“Ahhh,” Bestla breathed in deep, taking in air till her lungs promised to burst. “It has been ages since I felt the cold. The air. Light.” She laughed in glee. Slightly mad, but she was excused of that twistedness.

“And it is good to see you again, dear sister,” Mímir laughed.

Bestla turned quick on her heels, a stretch to her cheeks from her growing smile, “Mim? I never imagined I’d ever see you again.” She crossed over to his side of the room in two quick strides. Her fingers hovered over the jewel he had in one of his eye cavities. “Who did this to you?”

“Your son,” he said, downcast.

Bestla let out a contemplative hum, not in the least surprised, “So, he turned out just like his father.”

“I tried my best, but he had too much of his father’s pride, too much of that Æsir spirit.”

The giantess turned to you and then the boy, “You have finally come.”

You staggered to your feet, patience fully wilted, “It seems, every portal I jump through, every new world I discover, and every new person I meet, knows of what I am and what I will do before I do. I must admit, it is quite frustrating.”

“I can only imagine. You travelled all this way for hope, for a way to wake the one you love. Love… It has been a while since I felt its aura. It is beautiful on you. And waning. As is the construct of time,” Bestla closed the distance between the two of you, her height seeming doubled from up close. You opened your mouth to speak, but she countered with a raised hand. “Yes, I know of a way to wake him.” She waved her hand and your memories of the throne room battle were pulled from your mind, displayed in illusions of light and shadow. “When Odin cast the incantation, he unleashed your full potential. That potential is as mine was, once.” She waved her hand again and the illusion turned to that of a blue box, slithering with light. The Jotun Artefact that gave you your power. “This is the Stone of the Ancients. One of six. My people guarded it for generations. Its essence was intertwined with the very fabric of Jotunheim, as a heart does to a body, so when the Æsir stole it from our temples to use as a weapon against the Vanir during the First Great War, our planet fell to ruin. Ruin and endless winters.”

The illusion showed the decimation of spring and summer from the unimaginable beauty of a Jotunheim you had never seen before. A Jotunheim of peace and vibrancy that was all wiped away for the frozen tundra you knew all too well.

“You mean… it was Bor that started the war between the Giants and the Asgardians?” you asked.

“Aye, lass, the very same Tyrant King,” Mímir said. “Your dark prince isn’t the heir to a murderous legacy, he is the heir of the wronged. Heir to desolation as long as the Stone of the Ancients is never returned to Jotunheim.”

“Is that why I was lead here? You want me to help you restore Jotunheim?”

Bestla and Mímir shook their heads. You knew that look. It was the look of loss.

“No, dear one, Jotunheim is lost. Forever.” She said. “Fate is a tricky thing. My brother has seen how I meet my end, and I require you to do so. I swore to have my revenge, and I will, with your help.”

“If… If I help you, you will show me how to wake Loki?”

“You already know how to,” Bestla waved her hand and replayed the moment after energy ripped from your body. Then you were gurgling on the ground, hand stretched out to touch Loki’s as he bled on the floor. Breath hitched. Pained. And then you saw something new, the magic took over your body for a moment, and free from Odin’s spell, you spoke an incantation of your own. Slivers of your magic swimming across the marble floors to latch onto Loki’s fingernails and swim up the stream of his veins to rest around his cheeks.

Baldrick’s mouth pried open, a Jotun word leaving his mouth.

Bestla continued speaking as the illusion dissolved to the image of Loki hovering on a gold curtain of light in the healing chamber: “You saved his life. Our magic, our connection to the stone is primal. It is instinct and memory and emotion. That is why I cursed the Stone before I was locked in those reliquaries. I ensured only those who would understand my pain, the depths of my betrayal, would gain the stone’s power—women. And when Odin hid the stone on earth, he never imagined it would infect those on Midgard as it did to my people. But I never imagined he’d use that as a way to experiment on the women, to make them his weapons of destruction against my own kind, all the while making them believe they were chosen. God kissed. But if he never did, then you wouldn’t be here now. Like I said, fate is a tricky thing.

“When you reached for your prince—for Loki—you weren’t simply praying to no-one, you were praying to the stone. And it heard you. So it placed him in a deep slumber as it healed him from within, but the physical was not all that was damaged. Loki is a fraught boy. Torn apart by two halves that will always be at war. And in that throne room, one half finally won, and to him, it was the wrong half. The monster he was taught to hate. The monster all children are taught to fear: the Giant. I know of a spell that will allow you to enter his mind and bring him back, but like all things—”

“It comes with a price,” you weren’t the least bit surprised, but being a pawn in everyone else’s plans was becoming a thorn in your side. “And if I refuse?”

Bestla gave you an apologetic look, “Child, I said fate was tricky, I never said we got to choose.” She waved her hand one last time, and suddenly you were levitating from the floor, vision going black, ears ringing.

“Do not fret, when you awake, the answer will be as familiar to you as walking,” Bestla promised. “For familiar magic tends to want to be understood.”

Then, nothing. Just black and hard floor.

~Heimdall

When Heimdall and the rest of his companions reached the side of the mountain where the entrance to Mímir’s Tomb was, it was already sunrise the next day.

Moving his hands close to one another in the way of the old ways, he spoke in his native Vanir tongue, using blood to smear his handprint on a circular plate centred on the door.

In short order, the doors pried apart in slow motions, dust and the smell of ancients flooding out of the tomb.

“There is a chance the protection seals are still in place, enter with caution, and with weapons drawn,” he told the others as they disappeared into the maw of the tomb.

Heimdall gasped when he saw the reliquary statues broken to pieces. Whoever had done this possessed strong magic, but it couldn’t have been Y/N’s, she was still weak from the leeching, still new to her power. The pedestal where Mimir’s head had been laid to rest was bare, no sign of the one-eyed prophet anywhere.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Mímir? How? It’s not like a head can just sprout legs and walk away,” Fandral said. “I must say, I am a little disappointed. Missing the chance to see one of the last living survivors of the Great War, it does sting a little. Imagine all the secrets her held.”

“Could we have trusted them?” Sif said with some restraint, nowhere near as enthusiastic as Fandral. “He was locked away for a reason. Probably because he was dangerous.”

“And now he is gone,” Volstagg said.

“A problem for another day,” Heimdall said.

“Over here!” Hogun shouted from a dark corner of the room, behind the centre pedestal, dagger locked in place. “I found them.”

“Them?” Sif ran in Hogun’s direction and Heimdall followed.

On the floor was Y/N, out cold, but alive. Her essence was changed, almost exonerated of another’s influence, yet not completely alone. There was something else banging around in the softest, more quiet parts of her magic. Something new. He noticed then that her brand was cauterised from her flesh. Next to her was a boy, strange, bearing a hefty presence. He was the wielder of the magic that destroyed the protective seals on the reliquaries. For someone so young, that was unfounded. What was his connection to Y/N, Heimdall wondered.

He picked her off the floor while Hogun carried the boy. With ease creeping into his chest, he said, “Let’s go home.”

#loki #loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki odinson x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine

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author-morgan · 4 years

Note

i love your writing, especially your Eivor works. if you get the chance, could you possibly write some fluff for Eivor with a reader who can’t handle the cold snow of Norway? like she gets cold real easy, and Eivor is the human equivalent of a furnace

Hope you like it, nonny! Apologies for taking so long to get around to it!

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

THE DARK WATER of the Kattegat is a cold slush as the prow of the longship carves a path. Long past are tepid days of life in the Wessex settlement —and they shall never come again after the decimation and slaughter by King Alfred’s men. Eivor steps behind you, draping a heavy cloak around your shoulders and an arm around your waist. You can feel his warm breath against your neck and see your own condense before you.

Sailing in the winter months was never ideal, but you had been given no choice. All those aboard the longship were all the survivors left from the settlement. Of more than a hundred, only twenty-four remained —most are women and children save for a few wounded warriors. You grip onto the fold of the cloak, fingers twisting in the pale fur. Odin forgive us you think looking skyward we could not even honor our fallen.

Synin circles overhead, crying aloud. Ahead are a dark shoreline and a familiar village against white-capped peaks, visible as the morning fog lifts. The call of several horns carries across the bay. A welcome for friends and a warning to foes. Once in earshot, Eivors shouts —long, loud, and bereft. Villagers gather at the dock and along the icy shoreline. Mournful cries rise on the north wind as the weight of what their return means.

You and Eivor both help the others disembark to safety and lift a gravely injured Cnut onto a makeshift stretcher to be taken to the healer and herbalist. Jarl Ama greets both you and Eivor —once pillars in the Wessex settlement. Ama looks around, tears welling in her eyes as the absence of her own husband sets in. “Is this all?” She inquires. Eivor nods —nothing need be said. Ama holds her chin high. “There will be a time for retribution,” the Jarl announces, speaking as a true leader, “but until then rest and rest assured many are indebted to you both.”

Fresh flakes of snow dance in the air as the village returns to silence. A feast to honor the dead will be prepared by nightfall. “You’re freezing,” Eivor rasps, taking both your hands into his. His hands are large, rough with callouses and scars, and warm —like the rest of him. It never seemed to matter how cold it was, Eivor was always warm.

Everything in your shared home had been left untouched —even the furs before the hearth are still heaped into a pile. Synin quickly takes to his perch near the hearth, preening his sleek, black feathers. Eivor stoops down, striking a piece of flint and sending sparks into dry kindling and split logs. Light and warmth fill the air of the small room. Draping his cloak and yours over a wooden chair, you join him before the fire. “When is the last time you slept, love?” You question, taking his arm and undoing the straps holding an ornate gold blade against his wrist. Eivor does not answer. He has not slept since before the attack.

You doff him of the rest of his weapons and outer layers —some are still stained with blood— in comfortable silence. He returns the favor, unlacing the back of your ruined wool dress and leaving you in a pale linen shift. A chill takes your body, but between the fire and Eivor, you’ll soon be rid of the chill, though. He lays back on the pallet of fur and pillows, tugging you down with him. The fire warms your backside and the heat radiating from Eivor your front.

At one time, you’d been used to the frigid winters and bitter cold, but after so long in England you’d grown accustomed to little more than a chill in the air. Pressing your face into his chest, you sigh —entangling your legs with his. “Your feet are cold,” he muses, thick fingers stroking your knotted hair as he draws a quilt of stitched pelts around you both. You shift, pillowing your head on his outstretched arm.

There is a far-off look in his clear blue eyes. Guilt. “Eivor,” you breath, hand moving from his chest to comb through his beard. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead. The losses could be laid at no one’s feet but the King of Wessex. Without Eivor, even more of your people could have met the harsh kiss of iron. His gaze softens and focuses on you. A moment of silence passes again, then he brings you closer and finds your chapped lips with own for a short, sweet kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs. Somehow you always knew exactly what he needed to hear. No other being —save Synin— would ever understand him the way you did. You smile, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. A silent way of saying I love you that you and he had crafted so many years ago. Eivor wraps you in his arms wholly, pulling you flush against him and pressing his cheek into the crown of your head. He sighs, content for the moment. The days of unrest finally taking its toll. You place another quick kiss to the place where the entwined serpents tattooed on his chest cross. Between Eivor Wolfsmal and the warmth in your heart, you are certain to never go cold again.

tagging my Eivor squad: @jaegers-and-kaijus @withered-poppies @lady-wolfsmal @ananriel @britishhotassassin

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing #requested #Anonymous

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 12- Northumbria

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 3545

Warnings: Mentions of blood eagle.

11- Arvid/ The Sacrifice

...

"I did not take you to be the type to get seasick." Artemis says with a smile. She hands Ivar a scrap of cloth when his head emerged from the side of the ship. He spit into the sea the remnants of the bitter sick in his mouth before glaring at her. He snatches the cloth from her hands and wipes at his mouth unbecomingly before tossing it back at her.

"I am not fond of the sea." He mutters bitterly, groaning again as his stomach began to churn unpleasantly. Ivar scooted as far back into the corner he was in, treating the space as a safe haven.

"The sea is unpredictable, Prince, I think we all fear it." Artemis looks out into the calm Northern Sea, its waves gently rocking the ship like a babe in a cradle. Both Ivar's and Artemis's people were excellent seafarers, it must have bren engraved in their blood, but the fear of open water was still a rational one.

There were hundreds of ships down towards the horizon, and beyond, and a nervous buzz settled in the lower pits of her stomach. It was finally happening, all this talk of vengence and war, it all felt like stories one told a child at night.

The ship beside their own had her heart feeling heavy. Arvid's blue eyes were locked with hers as he grabbed an oar to help steer the ship. His wife was not far from him, watching the waves push and pull. She was a pretty thing, with yellow hair and blue eyes, exactly what every man here wanted. Her name was Alfhild, daughter of a well off farmer in Kattegat.

A small wedding was arranged. It was a simplistic wedding, and they were married right before they departed to England. For such simplicity, Arvid seemed to be the star of the event. His dark hair was neatly combed with intricate braids styled down the front, and he wore his very best clothes.

Arvid was a good man, if he could treat a slave with respect, then he would no doubt treat Alfhild in the proper way.

"Does it upset you?" Ivar interrupts her thoughts, gazing at her through his lashes.

"Hmm?" Artemis turns to him, her eyes swirling with mixed emotions. She began to fiddle with her leather padded vest, hearing Ivar suck his teeth at her feigning confusion.

"Are you upset that he is now married?" He reworded his question, lifting the hood of his cloak to shield his face, "His wife is pretty." He says as an afterthought, resting his head on his hand. The nausea was coming back.

"He deserves happiness and a suitable companion."

"I asked you how you feel about it, Artemis." Ivar lightly scolds her, adjusting his lifeless legs. He waits for an answer as he watches his older brothers bombard the front of the ship, no doubt feeling as if they could conquer the world. Perhaps one day they will.

"It does not matter what I feel. A slave does not have that luxury." She handed over the cloth again when he suddenly lurched over the side of the boat again. Groaning, Ivar sits back properly, snatching the cloth from her.

"You are not wrong," He says in agreement after a moment, "But you are no ordinary slave. You are Ivar the Boneless's slave. You are not average. You may think yourself downtroddened, but the gods have blessed you. This is where you belong." Artemis says nothing, though her eyes said it all.

What was that? Where did that come from?

Ivar stares back, unmoving, his eyes solely on her. His brown hair, growing longer by the day, blew in the salty breeze, and although his cheeks were reddened by the constant vomiting, it did nothing to tarnish his pleasant features. He looked more a man by the day.

"Do not look at me like that." He says finally, breaking their gaze in favor of looking out towards the sea.

"Like what?" Her lips began to curl into a grin, and she leans back against the wooden rail with her arms crossed.

"Like that," Ivar grumbles, waving his hand around to make a point, "With those eyes." He wrapped himself tighter in his cloak as if to hide. Artemis continued to smile, focusing her gaze on her wool trousers now that she felt a sudden shyness engulf her.

"You should tell me another story," She tells him, "Perhaps the one of Odin's eye?" Ivar hums, bringing his eyes back to hers.

"Very well, but after, you must take your turn at the oars." Artemis nods, casting one last look at Arvid before focusing all her attention on the crippled prince beside her.

"As you wish, Prince Ivar."

...

Spring was at its zenith when they finally arrived.

They landed on their sandy beaches, in a place they called Northumbria. The sun wasn't always visable as the clouds dominated the sky for most of the day, just as it does in Kattegat. It was a rainy country, with constant passing showers. The air was a bit humid and sticky, not a pleasant feeling after traveling such distance.

The Ragnarsons made their plans, attack and kill King Alle of Northumbria, and continue into Wessex. Ivar mounted his chariot as soon as they boarded off their ships, and they made camp in a field near by before regrouping into the fierce Heathen Army that struck fear into the hearts of men all throughout Europe.

Hundreds of tents were set up, surely appearing as a maze from high above. It was a war camp, the first that Artemis had ever seen, and it was truly an intimidating sight. It was over crowded and noisy, and if it weren't for the ships being spotted by the kings men, the wild chatter would have given them away. She sees Arvid again, setting up his makeshift home and forge, as his new bride went to gather wood.

"How fairs the marriage?" She approaches him. Having enough of his struggling, she grabs the tarp on one end as he grabs the other, stretching it over the wooden stakes that he had previously imbedded into the earth. She wasn't much help, her stature did nothing to aid him, but he looked over his shoulder at her with a beaming smile, and the glow reached his eyes.

"I've missed you." He replies sheepishly, turning to face her fully while rubbing the back of his neck, "The marriage was arranged, as you know, but Alfhild is kind." A man steering a cart arrives with all their forging instruments placed in the back.

"I'm glad the union has been in your favor. You will grow to love each other, in time." She says, reaching for the tools that were rolled into a thick cloth. Arvid placed his larger hand atop her smaller one, grabbing her attention instantly.

"I do not love her." His tone was the most serious she's ever heard it, his eyes boring deeply into her own. Artemis gulped, nervously shifting under is gaze.

"Arvid?" She says his name hesitantly, removing her hand from under his.

"I do not love her." He repeated with finality in his tone, letting his arm drop to his side. Alfhild approachs with an arm full of wood. She had not witnessed their encounter, and she smiles at both her husband and Artemis.

"Artemis, it is nice to finally see you after such a long journey." She says, going over to Arvid to place a kiss upon his cheek. Artemis fought to give her a smile while watching the exchange, placing her hands behind her back in her awkwardness.

"Likewise, Alfhild. Would you like some help with the wood?"

"Nonsense," She replies, "You are not ours to command. You worry about the tasks that are expected of you." And with that she heads into the empty tent.

Artemis groans, dropping her face into her hands.

"Arvid, she is much too kind. If you cannot love her, than at least try to like her." She begs through her hands, her muffled voice causing Arvid to smile.

"If I am to see you every day, then that will be a challenge, but I will try my best, if you wish it so." Artemis peeks at him through her fingers, and he could still see through the slits how piercing those eyes were.

"You promise?"

Arvid rolls his eyes but continues to smile at her, draping his arm over her shoulder in the most friendliest of hugs he could give.

"Yes, yes, I promise." She returns the smile gratefully.

He drops his arm from her as soon as Ivar's chariot came to an abrupt halt in front of the cart, his reckless riding causing Alfhild to come out from the tent in curiosity.

Ivar glares at Arvid, moving his blue eyes to his slave. Artemis gazes at him curiously.

"Set up the forge with only what you need before nightfall. There is work to be done before we attack tomorrow, understood?" Artemis lowers her head.

"As you wish, Prince Ivar." Ivar scoffs at her before nodding his head in aknowlegement towards Arvid and his wife.

"May the gods grant you a happy marriage." Ivar's demeanor changes suddenly as he smiles, baring his wolf-ish teeth.

"Thank you, Ivar." Alfhild replies when her husband remained silent. Ivar grunts, slamming the reigns harshly on the mare's back, the chariot disappearing into the mess of tents. Arvid grumbles, turning to look at his wife who joined the rest of the women in creating a fire in the middle of the surrounding tents.

"He reeks of jealousy. " Arvid grunts, grabbing a crate filled with supplies. Artemis joins him, placing the cloth covered tools atop a smaller crate that would be easier for her to carry.

"I suppose you were right." She follows behind Arvid, almost crashing into him when he turns to face her with a hardness in his eyes.

"Yes, and you seem to enjoy it, do you not?" Without another glance, he makes his way into the tent, leaving Artemis to ponder his words.

And she came to the conclusion that Arvid was correct.

...

King Alle was easily defeated. His army was no match against the larger one of the heathens.

The battle lasted no more than an hour, and Artemis waited patiently in Ivar's tent for his return. She had no doubt he would return.

"Artemis!" She hears Ivar's familiar voice call for her, and when she exited the tent, her hands flew to her lips in shock.

He sat in his chariot smirking, with a naked man attached to the backend of the chariot from his feet. The man was filthy from head to toe, squirming as his hands were also bounded behind his back. He had the appearance of a fish out of water, or a worm tunneling out from deep in the earth. It looked humiliating.

"I present to you the King of Northumbria." He announces proudly, looking back towards the fat man who groaned for mercy over the dirty cloth that had been tied over his mouth.

"The king?" Artemis whispers, eyes raking over his bloody form. A Christian king brought down to nothing. It was a sad sight.

"He is to be blood eagaled," Hvitserk appears with the rest of the brothers, dropping an arm over her shoulder. Something about the term did not sit well with her, but she decided to ask anyway.

"What is a blood eagle?"

"Something you would not bare to witness." Bjorn answers, lowering himself to one knee before the king.

"You are going to die now," The Saxon words escape Bjorn's mouth easily, though Artemis didn't understand a word of it.

The king began to cry, large droplets of tears running down his dirty cheeks. He pleaded in his language once Bjorn removed the cloth from his mouth, babbling something about gold and silver, perhaps trying to bribe them for mercy, but this king did not know who he was dealing with.

"You've never been around such things, have you?" Sigurd slowly approaches Artemis, whispering in her ear while Ivar watches the fallen king.

"No." She replies, her eyes following both Hvitserk and Ubbe as they crowded around the naked king to humiliate him further.

"He tortured our father and threw him into a pit of snakes until he died," Sigurd says darkly, "He is to receive the highest punishment that can be given." He crosses his arms, looking down at her.

"The blood eagle is not for the faint of heart."

Sigurd was right.

There weren't many witnesses as the rest of the army stayed behind to protect the camp. Floki was there, smiling menacingly while watching as the king was placed over a tree stump. Helga and Tanaruz stayed behind at the camp as it was no place for a child.

"Be brave, baby bird." Ivar says to her, and she watches after him as abandoned his chariot for crawling on the moist ground, settling himself directly in front of the crying king for the best view.

And so it began.

Bjorn did not hesitate to carve into the kings back, plunging the knife deep into his skin and dragging in down. The King cried out and Artemis's heart began to race wildly, watching the blood ooze from the large wound.

Again, Bjorn plunged the knife parallel to the wound, carving down his back easily. The thick blood covered Bjorn's hands and dripped down towards the forest floor like a river. Once she heard the ominous sound of bones cracking, and how easily Bjorn pulled out the kings lungs to rest atop his shoulders, she immediately felt the bile rise.

She felt lightheaded, turning round and falling to her knees, heaving up the contents of her stomach with eyes tightly closely. She could recognize the thick liquid seeping into the leaves and onto her fingers.

With a shaky breath she lifts her trembling hand, her palms and fingertips coated in King Alle's sticky blood. She could smell the iron instantly, lowering her head again to release the remaining food she had in her stomach.

She pants, sweat clinging her hair onto her brow, feeling her rapidly beating heart would leap out of her. She blinks the tears from her eyes before crawling away from her sick and the blood.

...

Blood.

Bones.

Lungs.

Artemis shot up quickly, her head spinning from her sudden movements. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing was laborious, choking on the oxygen she struggled to inhale. Pushing her hair away from her face, she takes a ragged breath, willing herself to be calm.

"Finally wake."

She whips her head at the sound of his voice, meeting the familiar eyes of her crippled master. He sat up, leaning against the wooden frame of his makeshift bed. In his hands was an elaborate golden crown, shinning jewels embedded within.

"Veikr." Ivar says to her, using that same word, though there was no hostility in his tone. Instead he chuckles, shaking his head as he brings his fingers to the pointed edges of the crown.

"I thought I told you to be brave," There was light teasing in his words, though it was apparent that he meant them, "You failed."

"Forgive me." Artemis mumbles, scouting her surrounds. Ivar's small tent was illuminated by the very few candles Artemis had arranged herself at his bedside, giving the small space a strangely cozy atmosphere.

The bed was soft, layered in the furs she had choosen specifically for him. She grips the soft hairs under her palms tightly, a rising panic surfacing as her mind raced with scenes from eariler. She sniffles, swallowing thickly when she felt her throat tightening.

"Hush." Ivar tells her, almost commands her, though somehow his voice was the most soothing it's ever been. The hot tears began to blur her vision, spilling past her lashes and down her cheeks. She felt her throat tighten as she fought to keep in her whimpers.

"Artemis," He calls out to her, and she when turns again to look at him, he raises a brow, "Stop your crying. Sit beside me." She sniffles again, her tears not masking her bewilderment. She waited for him to laugh and tell her to get out.

"You look foolish," He says instead, "I said stop your crying and sit beside me. You sound like a whimpering babe without it's mother. Come on." He beckons her with his hand, satisfied when she finally scoots back to sit up against the wooden frame as he did.

"Here," Ivar hands her the crown, watching her grasp it with trembling fingers, "It is Alle's crown." The distraction calms her for a moment, her curious eyes raking over the gold. She was holding the crown of a dead man.

"Saxon work is impressive, but I think you can do better. What do you think?" Artemis licks her dry lips, her finger leaving a print of the smooth edge of a ruby.

"You want me to make a crown?" She says to him with watery eyes.

"Mm, perhaps," He shrugs, fiddling with the edges of the fleece blanket he was under, "I might need one in the future." She remains quiet after that, hearing the crackle of the fire and the murmuring of the men outside the tent.

"Prince Ivar?"

"Yes?"

"What happened?" Ivar chuckles, snatching the crown back and placing it under the bed before crossing his toned arms over his bare chest.

Oh.

Had his chest been bare the entire time?

"You fainted," He smirks, "Like the little baby bird that you are." She frowns, ripping her eyes away from his glistening skin and onto her hands.

"I've not seen such cruelty before." She says quietly, remembering the king's screams vividly.

"Cruelty?" Ivar scoffs, "He deserved his fate and more."

"He was a Christian king." She responds.

"He was a worthless Saxon." He spits, yanking at the collar of her shirt to pull her torward him. She yelps, their eyes clashing as he brings their faces so close, the tip of their noses almost brushed.

"Who are you to pass judgement, hm? Are you a god?" Artemis hurriedly shakes her, not wanting to ignite his anger further.

"Well?" Ivar insists.

"No." She finally squeaks, and he releases his grip on her, only somewhat satisfied. He pauses, an angered breath passing his lips.

"When I first came to England with my father," He begins, "I did not know it would be the last time I would see him." He wasn't looking at her, but she could see how his eyes glossed over, his blue irises appearing red from the candle beside him.

Artemis listens intently, picking up the sadness in his tone even though he tried to hide it. She fiddles with her fingers, feeling an awkward and tense air around them.

"He surrendered to them. Do you know what he told me as his final request?"

"No." He turns to face her again, slinking forward on his toned arms to get a good look at her.

"He told me to avenge him. To lead an army into England and enact revenge." Ivar was so close to her again, just a breath away as they stared each other down in the dying candle light.

"Alle tortured him, threw him into a pit of venomous snakes and watched him die. I'm certain you have heard the story," He spits, his lashes fluttering as he fought to control his emotions, "And you think us cruel? What do you know of having a father murdered unjustly?"

The question sounded rhetorical, but his eyes were begging for an answer. Artemis says nothing at first, looking away from his intense gaze, pushing a lock of matted hair behind her ear. She sighs, biting her lower lip before facing him again, her features hardening.

"What do you know of being stolen away from a father?" She counters back, watching him jerk away from her as if burned. Ivar frowns, her words taking some sort of affect on him. He clenches his jaw, the rolling of the muscle poking through the skin of his angular face.

"Sleep," He commands suddenly, moving forward to push her down enough to lay back against the furs. Her confusion was evident, but he ignores it, resting against his pillows and placing an arm behind his head.

She had her own cot in the slave tent. Which she should be in. Not with Ivar.

"Prince-"

"It is late," He cuts her off, "You are unwell. I'm trying to keep you safe like I said I would."

"Yes, but-"

"You want to venture out in the darkness? The men will not be kind. Go on if that is what you wish."

Well, she supposed he was right.

Ivar chuckles to himself when she curls up into herself, her hand gripping the furs. He reclines further under the blanket, turning his back to her and scooting to leave as much space between them as possible.

"Go to sleep," He grunts, "You will return to your own tent and duties come daybreak." And with that he blew out the candles beside him, and the entire tent descended into darkness.

...

Veikr- Weak

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @rastakami23

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog

#ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #alex hogh andersen #vikings ivar #vikings

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the-magic-lava-lamp · 3 years

Text

Caught Up In You

Chapter 3 - A Very Loki Chapter

Summary: A story revolving around a group of teenage friends, their mishaps, their relationships and their coming of age.

Watch as they navigate through the highs & lows of high school relationships and learn to grow up as most of them are approaching the end of their Senior year.

Ships: SamBucky, ThorBruce, Stony, ValJane…(More ships & characters to come)

Word Count: 6,497

{Wednesday Night}

The thick rim of sweat which wrapped around Loki’s ankle was finally given fresh air as he kicked off one of his old sneakers.

The night was over; Thor had gone to his room with a joyful grin and ice-cream dotting the corner of his mouth and Wanda had been dropped off at home. Which was an event all on it’s own. While waiting in line at the happy little Frosty’s store-front, Wanda’s Mother called and asked her home to see her Grandparents who’d dropped by as a surprise.

Loki was irritated with the abrupt change of plans and Wanda’s angst about it only fueled him on. But Thor managed to make the little time they had left kinda fun. Paying for their treats and scrolling through the multiple snapchats he had of Loki doing weird shit to compete with Wanda’s captured moments.

And Loki was never one to shy away from being the center of attention, so he was absolutely delighted.

But now, his face was overcast with that tiny sheen of moisture which made his makeup heavy. Really hammering it in that he’d gone out & done all he could for the day with nothing left but to do but try and sleep.

He swiped remover down his face with a cotton pad and revealed in the euphoric sense of relief instead of focusing on the slight disappointment which always came.

Half his face was clean, one shiny green eye gone while the other still glittered under the flickering bathroom light, when Odin knocked on the bathroom door in his special way. One thump.

“In here.” He called out, filled with a little teenage venom.

Odin huffed a bit before speaking. “Can I just pee really quick?”

Loki turned to scrunch his face at the wooden door, where an eight year old Thor had once proclaimed he saw an image of a turtle between the lines. He rolled his lips together and popped out his leg before reaching out and unlocking the door. “Fine.”

He’d try to avoid the bickering match by giving him what he wanted & tried to speed past his father before he got a good look at him. But Odin managed a quick peek. “Interesting.” He hummed in that condescending tone that he always argued was just his regular voice.

Loki frowned and remembering that if he quipped back, fighting would escalate and Odin would just say shit he didn’t understand was offensive.

But the flickering light and sense of suburban ‘comfort’ was driving him insane all of the sudden. He blinked and spun to grab the door with his special grace. “You like it, father?” He smirked in a way that he’d once seen one Tony Stark do to his father in the school parking lot last year. It’d been an expression which stuck with him. The perfect mixture of innocent and bitchy. That had really bubbled Loki’s old crush on the arrogant guy.

Odin shifted, either from the fact that he hadn’t pissed yet or the nerves he always got when talking to his younger son. They both pretended that didn’t exist for a few years now.

“Lovely.” He tried to mutter out without sounding annoyed but he really wasn’t good at that. “Did you go out like..that?”

Loki smirked slightly, as if that didn’t bother him, and tore his gaze to the stupid framed painting of a bathtub which hung on the wall. “I’m sorry to have embarrassed you.”

“Don’t be snotty with me, Loki. I didn’t mean it like that and you should know that.” Odin shook his head which only served to truly piss his son off further.

“Oh of course, you’ve been rather happy with my behavior lately. Just admit that you can’t accept it-”

“Well, I’m not exactly ecstatic, son. I never have understood you." Odin burst, for the first time voicing some kind of confession to the feelings Loki basically already knew of...But it still hurt him. Loki stepped back a little, losing some of his confidence.

Odin frowned but took the opportunity to shut the bathroom door to escape.

Loki stared at the door, a little winded and suddenly overwhelmed with bitterness.

There was a full length mirror in his bedroom which Loki used to remove the rest of his makeup. It worked out very poorly considering all he had to clean it off with was a dish towel and some water he poured into Thor’s lame childhood baseball team trophy. He’d stolen it a few weeks ago from his older brother's room and he’d yet to notice it’s disappearance, sadly.

There was a tiny knock on his door which couldn't possibly be Odin, so Loki gave them permission to enter as he scrubbed his left eye. He’d sort of expected his Mother but was greeted with the gentle looking giant called Thor. Of course.

Loki turned his chin to look at him over his shoulder. “These kinds of moments are a little too ‘sitcom trying to tackle serious subjects’ for me, Thor. So, I’d rather not have a heart-to-heart, ok?” He smirked and turned back to the mirror, watching his brother’s reflection as he sat on his bed.

Thor rolled his eyes but looked somewhat amused. “I think we’re quite better at the ‘heart-to-heart’s than those dumb shows.” He glanced down at Loki’s reflection and smirked right back.

“I don’t know about better. But, we are far more entertaining.” Loki chuckled, remembering a few times where their nice talks ended with fun playful punching. “This is between father and I, Thor. You couldn’t possibly get it.” He frowned and finally turned his whole body. “The man thinks the world of you.”

Thor stiffened slightly.

“Anyone can see you're his favorite.” Loki shook his head with sudden anger. “Hela moved as far as she did because of him. And he can barely stand to look at me. I can see it in the way he looks at me. Complete and utter...embarrassment.”

“Father has a complicated way of showing his love-”

Loki felt his chest burn with the sudden urge to argue until he couldn’t breathe. “Not with you. Never with you.” He spat and threw his crappy towel onto the carpet. “He has some kind of personal issue against me, brother. Don’t act like it’s not there cause that just...drives me crazy.” His voice grew more tiresome than he would’ve liked and he deflated a bit.

“He likes to pretend Wanda’s my little girlfriend because he doesn’t like the fact that I’m so obviously attracted to men too! And it’s not even because he’s against the idea of having a queer son-” Loki stumbled on his words because he was barely sure how he identified, himself. “If you were to bring home Banner, he’d be waving the flag! I’d bet my life on it.”

He stood and started pacing his floor while Thor watched him go.

“But because I didn’t turn out to be someone who could pass as a straight, manly jock to family and friends, he despises me.” Loki looked up to the ceiling in frustration.

Thor was stunned to silence, not used to seeing his brother so distraught. Green glitter was still smudged and wet over Loki’s eye and he was doing his best to never make eye contact. “I know it’ll probably frustrate you and mother but...” Loki paused and rolled his lips together “I’m not going to fight for a relationship with him if he won’t even meet me halfway.”

“Brother...” Thor stood from the bed and took the way Loki moved back with embarrassment to notice. “I am always going to be in your corner, you know that right?” He asked.

Loki looked as if he didn’t know how to respond which absolutely crushed his older brother. “I haven’t always made it easy for you so...why should I think that?” He shrugged.

Thor swallowed, feeling as if he’d just gulped burning tea. “I think the world of you, Loki.” He shrugged because that answer was just so simple. No matter how many times they fought, Thor loved his brother.

Loki looked down at the carpet before letting out a long sigh. “Ok. I’m uncomfortable and would like to get the rest of this shit off my face and maybe watch a film.” He rubbed hard into his left eye and glanced at Thor. “You can watch too but you have to stop talking.”

Thor smiled and did a mock salute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Thursday Morning}

Loki rested his head on Wanda’s shoulder; her chin resting on the tufts of his hair. Her glance was desperately pointed downwards, eyes strained as she still couldn’t help but try and look at her friend as he spoke. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” She frowned and Loki softly smiled. “If it helps, my Grandma spent the whole evening asking me about boys and trying to give me tips on how to ‘Snag the best kind of fellow’.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I doubt she was that...nineteen-fifties about it, Wanda.” He pursed his lips, taking in her most subdued outfit of the week. He’d been pretending not to notice her ‘subtle’ evolution from complete ‘middle school witch’ to a ‘maybe hippie girl’?

Wanda hummed. “I don’t like her, Loki.” She shook her head a little (best as she could). “All she does is talk about Neil Sedaka and say offensive things that we’re just supposed to ignore.”

Loki giggled in a way that not most people could get him to.

She chuckled into his hair. “She did ask about you though. My little friend from school, very condescending about it by the way.” Wanda momentarily raised her head and twisted down to look at him. “I told her you died but I kept a vial of your blood on a necklace.” Her voice seamlessly fell into a casual tone.

Loki hummed in a sinister little chuckle. “You’re such a freak.”

Wanda pinched him.

“So...” Loki got up from the bench. “How do you snag the fellow?” He teased.

Wanda popped up after him and started to reluctantly follow his motions to get to class. “Just the usual steps. Y’know pass him by in the hallway, let him carry your books...” She delicately tapped each of her fingers as she walked.

“Stand in the corner of the room & cry so he asks what’s wrong, sit on a park bench & feed pigeons, take a piece of his hair to put in a traditional love-bringing fire-”

Loki pushed her arm and laughed when she stumbled.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” She bumped him back and hugged her books to her chest. “Why do you think I’m constantly pushing away attention?” She sarcastically put her hand to her chest and smirked.

“They make me nervous.” Wanda complained as she took the familiar steps up to the Odinson’s door. Loki rolled his eyes and dug around for his key.

Thor was inviting his old buddies over for a little after-school hang-out which Loki was 100% sure was just an attempt for Thor to distract himself from agonizing over Bruce. Loki’s brother was not subtle about hiding his feelings, even if he thought so. “They’re idiots, Wanda. Nothing to stress over. All you have to do is walk past them and go to the kitchen. They won’t bother you.”

Wanda crossed her arms and took off for the other room as soon as the door opened, neglecting to greet Thor or his friends in the living room. Though Loki moved a bit more slowly as he shut the entry & observed the group of jocks. He saved his most annoyed look for Sif, who’d always seemed annoyed with him.

Even with the strange time without seeing that company in their home, Loki was a master at ignoring them.

“Loki! Look who’s here!” Thor was quite joyous with the mini reunion But. Loki just rolled his eyes and went for the kitchen where Wanda was setting up their books to study. Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral and Sif gave the little brother tiny nods before he’d managed to escape but weren’t given a response.

Sif pursed her lips. “He hasn’t changed much.” She scooted closer to the table from her seat on the carpet. They surrounded the furniture like a group of poker players, bits of schoolwork littered it and circled the fake-fruit bowl. “Nor his little friend.” She smiled softly.

“I suppose the ice is part of his charm though.” Fandral added, throwing a plastic apple up-and-down with his trademark smirk. “Wouldn’t very well be Loki without it, Don’t you think?”

Thor observed his old friend's conversation with warm nostalgia in his chest. While it was endearing to see them all laughing & talking in his living room like they’d used to, Thor’s mind still drifted nervously to his plans with Bruce the next day.

While Thor was overthinking and the others chatted, Sif managed to get up and slip into the kitchen without much notice. Fandral’s apple now hanging loosely in her grip while she walked to the fridge.

Loki didn’t so much as look up at the presence he knew was there but that little friend of his did. Her expression was hard to read.

In her head, Wanda was agonizing over the idea of whether she was supposed to say ‘hi’ or not. Sure, she knew of Sif but she didn’t really know her. They’d just cross paths sometimes in the Odinson household when they were younger. But she was standing in the kitchen now-...though Loki wasn’t even moving and surely if she should greet the girl then so would she.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” She absolutely despised that she announced that to the room but at least she could then leave. Which she did.

Wanda darted off which finally pulled Loki’s attention from his books with a twitch of his brow.

“Guess I made her nervous, huh?” Sif’s charmed voice came from behind Loki. She moved around the table to stand awkwardly in front of him, hands oddly resting on her hips. There was an intense feeling of effort in the interaction which made Loki even more annoyed. Sif was a freaking jock. She’d been one all her life and the only reason she felt the need to be nice to him was because of Thor’s begging.

“She’s not attracted to you, bonehead. Your presence just gave her such social anxiety that she then had to use the bathroom as an excuse to leave. She’ll be hiding there until you’re gone.” The dark haired man spoke smoothly as he flipped through pages.

“Which-” He finally glanced up at Sif and made a show of folding his hands together “I hope it will be soon. Now that you’ve gotten the...coffee creamer you needed so badly?” His thin brow jumped up.

Sif really hadn’t been paying attention to what she was grabbing. She simply missed the days of annoying Thor’s little brother by mere existence plus hell if Wanda wasn’t adorable. She smirked and tossed the creamer from palm to palm while obnoxiously observing Loki’s work. She came closer and rested against the counter. “Still as kind as ever, Loki.”

The younger boy looked up and met his eye in an oddly amused way. “Still as back-handed as ever, Sif.” He scrunched up his nose and shut the Chemistry book he’d been pretending to read.

The girl just grinned as she straightened his back, finding the bite to be sentimental. All the times she’d teased the quiet boy whenever she passed Loki in her best friend's home, sitting on the ottoman by himself, to get Kool-Aid (or whatever the hell they were drinking in middle-school) popped back into her mind. “You do possess the ability to be nice, y’know that?”

Loki hummed, flipping his pen around in his hand. Those fingers moving quickly yet gracefully was somehow mesmerizing. “Yeah but you’re not worth the effort.” He flicked his tongue and went back to writing.

Sif nodded, as if the reaction was expected and went back to her friends because maybe Loki wasn’t worth her effort.

Once she was gone, Loki shoved himself out of the chair and trudged over to the bathroom door with a bit of an amused smile. His knuckles burned slightly as he tapped insistently against the white wood currently keeping him from his absurd friend. “Wanda, dear? You’re free to come out.” He hummed happily.

There was a quiet thrush of water from the sink and some shuffling but the door remained closed for another minute or two. It gave Loki the time to pause...and maybe think about the other night. He’d come to expect that disgusting attitude from Odin but that didn’t take away the sharp pain it put in his chest everytime he put another back-handed comment on the table. Damn if Loki didn’t keep a tiny bit of hope for change. “Did you decide to take a nap on the linoleum, Wanda?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” She finally answered, voice thick and unamused.

So much so that Loki whistled, putting his hands up in a mock surrender as he backed away from the door. Just in time for his friend to pop out with that smug little nose-scrunch smile of hers. However Loki didn’t miss the slick way she shoved her phone into her back-pocket. He cocked an eyebrow, arms crossing elegantly over his chest. “Who were you talking to?”

“Nobody. I was peeing and hiding from Thor’s friends.”

“Then let me see your call history.”

Wanda scowled. “No, Loki.” She shook her head and stomped past him, beginning a dance of irritation. She’d lead into a step only to have Loki block and counter it, pretending to be doing something of importance that just so happened to be in her way. It only lasted so long.

When Loki reached over her body to get the cookie jar, that conniving little smile on his face, Wanda couldn’t help it. She pushed his arm back with a bit more force than intended and watched him stumble with heat in her stomach. “Are you so arrogant that you can't understand you’re annoying me so much right now?” Venom in her tone for sure but Wanda was a master remaining unsettlingly pleasant even when angry.

“Oh please, spare the dramatics.” Loki rolled his eyes. “It did seem like you were growing tired of me.” He spat a little too bitterly. Wanda turned, leaning back on the counter. Her outfit annoyingly consisted of flare jeans which dragged against the floor.

“Loki.” She frowned, moving towards the table. “We’re soul-siblings-” She gently poked his shoulder with one finger. “Just because I’m dressing a little differently doesn’t mean I’m becoming someone else.”

Exceedingly embarrassed, Loki looked off to the side. “So tell me who you were talking to.” It was pitifully childish but something about his best friend, who often openly gushed and giggled over boys, being so suddenly secretive about a phone-call was bothering him. It had to be someone she liked. He knew her tell-tale signs...that and he swore he’d heard a muffled giggle from behind the damn bathroom door.

“Fine.” Wanda shook her head once more and handed over the phone.

#i found this in my drafts lol!#so i finished it!#:)#loki odinson #loki and wanda #wanda maximoff #caught up in you #marvel #MCU #my fanfiction #Loki Laufeyson #Scarlet Witch #The Avengers #Marvel Comics

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sinnhelmingr · 2 years

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slams my hands on the table

it’s the way odin gaslit hel into thinking he was her friend and protector when he was her jailer and the one who took her from everyone that loved her. the way hel, for a significant portion of her youth, blamed herself for the way she was treated, how even expressing nostalgia for what she had soured his mood. the way hel earnestly believed for about a decade that the one that loved her the most was apathetic and callous enough to completely abandon her, when her father was in fact doing everything he could to find his missing children. it’s the way hel only understood her father never stopped loving her once baldr joined her, a gift from loki to his irreclaimable daughter.

it’s that even a millennia and a half on, hel still blames herself for thinking the worst of her family, still feels guilty whenever she leaves her realm, without realizing she was a child manipulated and mentally and emotionally abused by someone who should have protected her. i just. fuck.

#abuse //#gaslighting //#manipulation //#bitterness is thick like blood [ODIN]#they can't get into my head [HEADCANON]#i don't believe in a fairy tale end [YOUTH]

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sinnhelmingrmoved · 4 years

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your obedient servant has the energy of odin actually getting pissed at one of hel's little games to the point of calling her out on it, and her coming back with an all too amused 'which one?' (here's an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements. 'sweet JESUS.')

#her uncle wants satisfaction she wants him to suck it up.#bitterness is thick like blood [ODIN]#o pray for me [CHARACTERIZATION]

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

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All We Are Thankful For (Broken Wings Verse)

A commission for @korrababy who wanted an extension of our Broken Wings verse full of fluff and domestic family goodness. Thor comes back to the compound and reunites with our favorite family, and this time he brings nb!Omega!Loki as well.

ORIGINAL BROKEN WINGS MASTERLIST HERE

****************

The Bifrost burned a pattern into the snow outside the compound, and when the noise ceased and the wind settled, Thor stood there with golden wings stretched wide, deep brown primaries fluttering in the frigid air and his head tipped back, a grin nearly splitting his face.

“You look like a fool.” An Omega with coal black wings stepped from behind Thor and sniffed, turning his nose up at the snow. “I am freezing and you are standing here smiling like a buffoon. Why are you smiling? Earth is disgusting.”

“Tis good to be home!” Thor ignored the annoyed Omega and took a purposefully loud inhale, breathing out on a loud, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” and shaking his feathers until they smacked the Omega in the face. “Can’t you feel it, Loki?”

“What is the matter with you?” Loki snarled, baring a set of pointed fangs and shoving at Thor’s wings to get them out of the way. “What is the matter with you? This isn’t home, home is--”

They stopped abruptly, biting at their lip hard enough to pierce tender skin and draw blood. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter where home is. You’re still being a damn fool.”

“Loki.” Thor gentled his tone, lowered his feathers so they weren’t so purposefully encroaching on his sibling’s space. “Ever since learning of your heritage you’ve become cold and withdrawn. You changed your wings and refuse to call Frigga mother, I bother you and you never laugh--”

“--I have never laughed when you bother me.”

“--categorically untrue, you laugh every time.” Thor maintained. “It is time to bring this to an end, Loki. You’ve grieved long enough, you’ve punished Frigga and Odin for keeping secrets, you’ve taken your anger out on me for all the times I made you play the Frost Giant in our war games. Enough is enough, Loki. It is time to move on.”

“...and your grand idea of moving on is to bring me to the wilds of Midgard to freeze in the snow.” Loki said flatly. “Bra-vo, Thor. Your intelligence astounds me.”

Thor only swept his arm out wide to encompass the view in front of them, the compound rising abruptly from the snowy plain and the forest that lay thick on every side. “I didn’t bring you to the wilds of Earth, I brought you home to meet this family, my family. You will find a place here, Loki.”

“Ah. Because my place is no longer in Asgard and certainly not in Jotunn. Why not give Earth a try?” Loki didn’t even sound bitter, more heartbroken than anything. Asgard as a whole had turned it’s back on Loki after news of their adoption and Jotunn birth had spread, and when the Omega had gone to the Frost Giants for answers, they had been cast out from there as well.

Loki was an Omega without a home, without a place to call their own anymore and seeing the pain in his siblings green eyes every day had driven Thor to such sorry that he had done something wildly impetuous and all but kidnapped Loki from their chambers and brought to Earth unannounced.

“You may not feel your place is Asgard any longer.” Thor said carefully. “But there is room for you here, Loki.”

“And why would you think I’d find a place here on Earth with strangers?” Loki spread their hands towards the compound. “This Alpha Anthony you speak so highly of, his birds and his Omegas and the warriors he calls his own? How exactly is there room for someone like me in a family like that?”

“Birds. You speak of Falcon and Hawkeye.” Thor corrected with a muffled grin. “But by all means, do call them Anthony’s birds when you meet them.”

“Thor!” Loki’s matte black feathers flickered green and then brightened almost to silver as the Omega’s emotions rose. “This is not a joke.”

“And I am not making fun.” The Alpha settled his tone immediately, holding out comforting hand and letting it fall after a moment when Loki only glanced at it, then glanced away. “Being here with this family will heal your heart if you let it, especially if you keep your schemes and mischief to a minimum. I love everyone in this compound and I want you to love them too.”

The Omega was quiet for a moment, and then, “I cannot promise no schemes. I am the god of Mischief, you know.”

“God of Mischief.” Thor snorted, flicking his wings out to mingle with Loki’s for a brief, affectionate touch. “At best you are a curator of card tricks.”

“Thor.” Loki reached for Thor’s arm and squeezed hard, their slim fingers digging into the demi god’s sleeve. “Are you sure about this?”

“As sure as I’ve ever been of anything, Loki.” Thor wrapped a thick arm and heavy wing around his sibling. “There is room in this family for you, I promise. Come in and meet them.”

“Alright.” Loki took a deep breath, made a concentrated effort to control their glamour, and smoothed the lines of their black suit. “Lead on.”

*****************

“Thor!” Sam was crossing into the common area with a plate of dessert when Thor and Loki came in from outside, and his red wings opened wide in welcome. “You’re home again! Welcome back!”

“Samuel!” Thor boomed, and crossed the room in a few giant steps, snatching the Beta up into a hug, ignoring Sam’s startled ack! and squeezing him tight. “I’ve missed you! How are things!”

“Things would be better if I could breathe!” Sam wheezed and pounded at Thor’s back good naturedly. “Let me down, big guy. You’ll break all my feathers like this.”

“Ah, of course. I forget you are only mortal and not near as strong as I.” Thor teased and Sam punched at his shoulder harmlessly. “Come, meet my sibling Loki. Loki, this is Samuel, our Falcon.”

“Samuel.” Almost floored by the wash of contentment and family heavy in the air, Loki extended their hand hesitantly, black wings tucked back as far out of view as he could manage. “One of Anthony’s birds, isn’t that right?”

Sam’s brows lowered, eyes narrowed and he swiveled to stare at Thor, whose face was nearly splitting in an attempt to hide a gleeful smile. “You told your brother to call me one of Tony’s birds? Thor, I swear to God--”

“Loki is my sibling.” Thor corrected quickly, meaningfully, and Sam didn’t skip a beat when he said, “You told your sibling to call me one of Tony’s birds? It’s gonna be like that? Remember Valentines Day when you messed with my baking and I got back at you by putting food coloring in your shampoo so you were pink for a week? We gonna start pranking each other again?”

“I remember putting Asgardian adhesive down on the toilet and you waddling for several days.” Thor returned, thunder rolling in the pitch of his laughter. “Samuel! Do not start a war you cannot win!”

“No no, I’m not worried about that this time.” Sam let his feathers fluff up in a show of mock aggression. “Loki is here this time and since no pretty Omega can resist my charm, I’ll have them sharing all your secrets but the end of the day!”

Loki made a shocked sort of sound when Sam called them pretty, but it was lost beneath an excited whoop as an Omega with rich brown wings launched himself over the couch and right onto Thor.

“Hey look!” The Omega laughed out loud when Thor caught him easily. “It’s my favorite Chippendale’s dancer! What’s up Thunder from Down Under? Welcome home!”

“Clint.” Thor’s hug for the boisterous Omega was quite a bit gentler but no less enthusiastic than his one for Sam had been. “It’s good to be home again. I’ve been away too long and I missed your sweet sass.”

“Of course you did.” Clint agreed easily, wriggling out of Thor’s arms to smack a loud kiss onto Sam’s cheek. “By the way, you were definitely gone too long. What is this, eight months away from home? Way too long. You’re lucky Pep didn’t send a strongly worded letter to Asgard demanding your immediate return.”

“I can assure you, the letter is sitting on my desk.” The aforementioned Pep came in behind Loki and Thor, discarding her purse and kicking out of sky high heels before kissing first Sam, then Clint, and finally lifting pale pink wings and arms to wrap around Thor’s shoulders for a hug. “Welcome home, Thor. We’ve missed you.”

“Ms. Potts.” Thor picked up Pepper’s dainty hand and lay a kiss on her palm. “You are more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Oh I know, I know.” The lovely Omega waved off Thor’s praise and turned with an expectant smile towards Loki. “Welcome to the compound Mr. Laufeyson. My name is Pepper Potts and I keep our family carefully corralled into well orchestrated chaos--”

“S’just Loki, Pep.” Sam, quietly. “Not mister.” and Pepper’s smile brightened a little as she smoothly corrected, “Welcome to the compound, Loki. Forgive my slip there. Has Thor shown you to your rooms yet? Our Alpha went all out trying to decorate for you two, Thor you remember how Tony is around this time of year.”

“I have a room here?” Loki asked in obvious surprise. “A personal room specifically for me? Why?”

“It’s sort of a tradition.” Pepper explained with a long suffering sigh. “I think it physically pains Tony to not design special living spaces for everyone in our family and when he found out Thor was bringing you for the holidays, his wings fluffed out at least twice their size in excitement. Be sure and tell him if you don’t like it though, or if you’d rather sleep in the same room as Thor. Steve and Bucky share a room when they aren’t with our Alpha, they don’t like being apart for very long. It’s fine if we need to do a little rearranging.”

“Oh.” Loki hesitated, and behind Pepper’s shoulder Thor raised his eyebrows hopefully, offering Loki a thumbs up. “...Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble.” Pepper brushed her pink feathers against Loki’s wings, but before he could be surprised by the affectionate touch, Pepper had turned to blow Thor a kiss, smile at both Sam and Clint and then nearly ran from the room heading on her way to do whatever it was she did to keep their family corralled.

Loki surreptitiously sniffed the air after the Omega and when Sam caught the motion, he explained, “Pep scents different because she wears suppressants. That’s what you’re noticing.”

Loki’s eyes widened over the blase way the Beta announced such private information and Clint winked, throwing an arm around the Omega, “Don’t look so surprised, Lo. We’re a touchy-feely, no secrets sort of family. You’ll get used to us.”

“Ah.” Loki cleared their throat. “I see.”

“You don’t yet.” Sam said confidently. “But you will.” His red feathers swept up to gather Clint into a hug and Loki startled when the easy contentment in the air spiked with arousal, the Omega turning in Sam’s arms and laying a heated kiss on his lips. “Uh Thor, why don’t you head down to the gym and find our Alpha. He’ll be excited to see you.”

“An excellent idea.” Thor cleared his throat to distract Loki from outright staring as Clint and Sam shared another kiss. “Let’s find our Alpha and my Steven and leave these two to wrestle like seals over a fish.”

“Wrestle like a seal? Is that what he just said?!” A shoe came winging towards Thor courtesy of Clint, and the Alpha practically rolled with laughter as it bounced harmlessly off his head.

“Why do you call Anthony your Alpha?” Loki wanted to know as Thor guided him down the hall towards the stairs. “Surely the human isn’t more of an Alpha than you are.”

“Anthony is Alpha of this family, so the title is one of respect.” Thor nearly ran down the stairs to the gym, thumping down them two and three at a time. “And he prefers to be called Tony to Anthony, but he allows me the formality of his full name and I’m sure he’ll grant you the same. You certainly don’t have to call him Alpha, but everyone else does.”

“Everyone else.” Loki picked at a piece of lint on their suit absentmindedly. “And does everyone ac like Samuel and Clint do? They both refer to Anthony as Alpha yet they kiss? And what about announcing the Omega Pepper uses suppressants? An Omega’s biology is a private thing, why would he say it so carelessly? What sort of family is this, Thor?”

“One where they know and accept each other so thoroughly there is not room for jealousy or misunderstandings.” Thor stepped into the gym and breathed deep, tasting the mixed Alpha and Omega hormones and the tang of sweat, and when he spied two figures in the wrestling ring, he clapped his hands together and called, “Anthony! I’ve come home again!”

“Thor!” An Alpha with gorgeous, multi colored feathers looked up with an excited grin, and then was taken to the mat with a grunt as a big Omega flipped him over and pinned him with a thump. “Oh--” Tony wheezed and the Omega laughed in delight, curling close and nuzzling at Tony’s neck. “Oh sweetheart, you are amazing at that, almost killed me that time. Wonderful.”

“I’d never hurt you, Alpha.” the blond Omega murmured, and pursed his lips for a kiss Tony willingly gave, lingering over the moment until the Omega was satisfied.

Only after the Omega pulled away did Tony stand and jump right over the ropes of the ring, crashing into Thor and wrapping arms and wings around the other Alpha in a near desperate hug, then tipping his head up for a bruising kiss.

“Anthony.” Thor hummed as Tony sighed, “Thor. Welcome home.”

“Tis good to be home, Alpha.” Thor put Tony down gently, then backed up a few steps and spread his golden wings wide before dropping them submissively in a show of respect for the family’s Alpha. “I’ve missed you.”

Tony massive wings opened to a span that rivaled Thor's, and his dark eyes shifting red in dominance for a moment before he dropped his wings too and whispered, “I missed you too.”

This time when Thor moved forward, the kiss was slow and sweet and Tony pulled his feathers back so Thor could surround him, melting into the bigger Alpha’s arms. When Thor spread his palm over the arc reactor in Tony’s chest and pressed carefully, the other Alpha rumbled in contentment and leaned into the touch, covering Thor’s hand with his own.

“Have you been well?” Thor asked quietly, meaningfully. “Your mates and the new child? Our Bruce? Where is Natasha? Pepper is so beautiful she nearly brings me to my knees and Samuel and Clint are gorgeous together. How is the Colonel? Steven?”

“Everyone is fine.” Tony loved that Thor was so in tune to their family, and he let himself sink a bit closer to the Alpha until Thor rumbled and held him tighter. “The last few months have been an adjustment, but we are all managing.”

Thor frowned, reading the tension and sadness in Tony’s scent. “What do you mean, managing. How is your Omega Bucky? The last I was home he was only barely--” Thor made a general motion over his stomach. “Is he alright? Is he--?”

“Bucky is...well he’s adjusting. We all are.” Tony’s whiskey warm eyes dimmed a little. “But that’s a conversation for another time. You should go see Steve, he’s been about climbing out of his skin the last few days waiting for you to get here. Go and see him and I’ll spend some time getting to know your brother.”

“Loki is my sibling.” Thor corrected automatically and Tony smiled in understanding. “And I’d enjoy more time with you, Alpha, before seeing anyone else.”

“I’d enjoy more time with you too, Alpha.” Tony growled playfully and nipped at Thor’s bottom lip. “But if our Omega needs your attention…” he inclined his head towards the wrestling ring to where Steve was standing and staring, beautiful wings trembling in anticipation, eyes wide and fists clenched. “Go on. You and I will have time later but Steve might actually faint if you don’t talk to him soon.”

“Bruce?” Thor hesitated again, not because he didn't want desperately want to get his arms and wings around the gorgeous Omega, but because he couldn’t stand the thought of ignoring a single one of the people he loved. “Is he home in the compound?”

“Bruce is out with Bucky and won’t be home for a few hours.” Tony opened his wings wider and wider until Thor was forced to let go of him or risk damaging his feathers. “Go spend time with Steve, go on.”

“Tonight, perhaps?” Thor brushed his knuckles over Tony’s cheek and the Alpha nodded in agreement. “Till then, my love.”

Thor left one last kiss on Tony’s mouth, then turned and strode purposefully towards Steve, letting his wings burst open and spread to their furthest points in front of the Omega, brilliant golden feathers glowing in the lights, darker brown primaries gleaming and glossy.

Steve fell to his knees with an audible whimper, instinctively baring his throat for the Alpha and Thor went to his knees in front of the Omega with a low growl, burying his hands in Steven’s hair and bringing their mouths together in a hard kiss.

“Al-Alpha.” Steve whispered, and the gym shook with the force of Thor’s thunder as he rumbled, “Omega.”

Tony watched the scene for only a few seconds before turning his attention to Loki, his multicolored wings lifting in welcome and interest as he approached the Omega.

“Loki.” the Alpha offered his hand palm up, for the Omega to take. “Welcome to the compound. We’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

“You allow another Alpha to claim your Omega?” Loki blinked down at Tony’s hand, then up at the Alpha. “Thor assured me Steven was your mate and I assumed my brother simply coveted the Omega, not that they engaged in this--” he gestured towards the scene. “--this--whatever this is.”

“Steve is my mate.” Tony touched the overlapping circles of three mating bites on the side of his throat, one for Clint, one for Bucky, one for Steven. “But he and Thor are very well suited. Why wouldn’t I acknowledge their bond, and encourage them to be happy together?”

“Because that’s not normal.” Loki narrowed their eyes.“You’re telling me you feel no jealousy watching another Alpha with your mate. No irritation at all that upstairs a Beta is intimate with another of your Omegas. Honestly?”

“Thor told me once that in Asgard there are a thousand ways to love someone.” Tony said thoughtfully. “I consider myself a lucky Alpha to have so many of those ways right here in my own home, with my family. Not all of our relationships are the same, not all make sense to people standing on the outside looking in. But in the end, the only thing that matters is knowing my family is safe and loved, and I don’t care how that plays out.”

“Even those that don’t belong in acceptable society.” Loki pressed and when Tony shrugged as if he didn’t know which of his family might not belong in acceptable society, Loki blurted--

“I’ve heard stories about the Soldier and about the Hulk and the Widow.You mean to tell me even they find a place in here? No one looks at them sideways for their past and their actions and the blood on their hands?” The words came harsher than Loki intended, the concept of outright acceptance so outright confusing that the Omega felt like they were spinning. “They are practically monsters and yet you pretend they aren’t?”

“First of all.” Tony’s wings flared in warning, the bronze and dark red looking especially menacing and Loki backed up a step, taken by surprise by the change in temperament, by the sudden danger rolling off the Alpha. “First of all Bucky, Bruce and Tasha are more than their pasts, more than who or what the outside world thinks they are. You will call them by name, not by the reputation forced on them by other people.

“...I meant no disrespect.” Loki said slowly, stunned by the show of protectiveness. “My apologies, Anthony.”

“All of us have something in our past we are running from.” Tony calmed a little, tapping at the reactor casing on his chest. “But here at home, we don’t have to run anymore. We don’t have to pretend. We’re all a little bit broken, but our broken edges fit together to make something beautiful. So yes, even those of us called monsters, even those of us with nightmares and PTSD and enough guilt to last a lifetime--”

The Alpha turned to look at Steve, his feathers fluttering as something unreadable crossed his face. “Even those of us who have lived more lifetimes than seems fair and lost out on everything we thought we wanted-- there’s a place for everyone here. Bloody hands or not.”

Tony held out his hand again for Loki, and tried for a smile. “On a lighter note though, would you like to see your room? I tried to decorate it for you but I might have gotten it all wrong. Feel free to tell me if you hate it, we’ll get it fixed.”

“You designed a room for me.” Something cold seemed to crack in Loki’s chest, the warmth in the Alpha’s eyes and the way he kept waiting for Loki to take his hand speaking of such immediate welcome that it nearly sent the Omega to their knees.

Apparently Tony’s acceptance extended past his family and even to Loki and it was almost overwhelming. “I’d-- I’d very much like to see it.”

“Well come here then.” Tony curled his fingers coaxingly and Loki took a deep breath before finally reaching out and laying their fingers against the Alpha’s palm. “There you are, lovely Omega. That’s perfect.” Tony dropped a kiss on Loki’s knuckles and then wove their fingers together as they left the gym. “JARVIS? The doors please.”

“Of course, sir.” came the smooth reply from the ceiling, but Loki was too transfixed by the feel of Tony’s calloused hand against their own to notice. It had been ages since anyone had tried to touch them, even Thor had respected Loki’s need for distance and had tempered his usual jovial hugs. But Anthony held Loki’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world and chattered easily about the compound and whatever a JARVIS was and how he’d picked out the colors for Loki’s room without having the chance to ask about a preference and he hoped green and silver were alright but now he wondered--

“You chose green and silver for my room?” Loki interrupted. “Why those colors?”

“I tried to do some research before meeting you.” The Alpha admitted.“You and Thor are literal gods, you know. And while there are some less than accurate comic book accounts of your exploits and a few truly awful movies--” he winked and Loki fought an unexpected smile. “-- I was trying to find reputable sources to learn about you. Thor wasn’t here so I had to resort to old books and paintings. Almost everything showed you with green wings.”

“Then why did you add silver?” Loki held his breath, hoping beyond hope that Thor hadn’t told the Alpha of their Jotunn heritage, of the silver feathers that matched the dark blue skin of Frost Giants.

Tony chuckled a little. “Honestly? I just thought you’d look pretty in green and silver. Now that I’ve met you in person, I know I was right.”

“...oh.” Another unexpected smile, Loki’s cheeks flushing at the compliment from the Alpha. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, I hope it’s not terrible.” Tony stopped in front of a bedroom door and motioned for Loki to place their palm in a biometric reader. “We can change everything about the room if you want, my feelings won’t be hurt. I just want you to be comfortable, Lo. Tell me what you need and I’ll make sure it happens.”

Loki hadn’t known what to expect, but painted walls in soothing shades of different greens and blankets with silver threads running through them certainly wasn’t it. They weren’t prepared for the four poster bed with curtains that could be drawn for privacy or the beautifully carved antique desk with a stack of books or a carpet plush enough to sink their toes in at least a couple inches.

“Anthony--”

“The only thing Thor told me was that you were always cold.” The Alpha rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “He said you were always covered up and preferred mounds of blankets, so I bought some heated ones and then the comforter itself is extra warm and I know the curtains are a little ridiculous, but I’ve never designed a room for an Omega Royal before so--”

“--Why are you treating me like I’m already part of your family?” Loki interrupted and Tony’s brows lowered in confusion. “Why did you go out of your way to do all this for me, when for all you know I could be petty and vindictive and-- and--” they cast about for one of the adjectives the Asgardians loved to throw around. “--and spoiled.”

“Well now you’re just a little bit more spoiled, aren’t you?” Tony teased, his eyes warming in open affection. “I’ll let you get settled and if you need anything, ask JARVIS. I’ve got a date with the prettiest girl in the universe so I’ll have my hands full for a while, but you can come find me if you want. Natasha said she would show you around but I’m not sure where she is at the moment. If you go looking, she’s the terrifying redhead with white wings--”

“Terrifying, Alpha?” Natasha spoke from the door, her arms full of a polka dotted wrapped bundle, snow white wings fluffed up and hovering protectively. “Is that the rumors you spread about me?”

“Tasha.” Tony’s huge wings opened in happiness and Loki didn’t quite know what to think when the Alpha leaned in and kissed the pretty Beta full on the mouth. “How are you? And hows the most prettiest girl in the world?”

“I’m fine, but she wants her Papa.” Natasha handed over the blankets and Tony all but melted, rumbling deep in his chest and clicking his tongue until a tiny hand reached up from the blanket to pat at his chin. “Told you. She needs a nap but apparently I don’t cut it. We tried snuggling, we tried rocking, she fussed and fussed until she heard your voice and now she’s calm again.”

“You do wonderful with her.” Tony soothed and kissed Natasha one more time before turning round to Loki again. “Loki, this is Maria Elizabeth Barnes Stark, almost four months old and the most important person in any room at any time.”

“Oh.” Loki blinked down at the baby, eyeing the fluffy dark hair and bright blue eyes. “Oh, she is… well, she is something, isn’t she?”

“Say she is beautiful and mean it, or I will drop you out a window.” Natasha threatened and Tony laughed, interjecting, “Settle, Tasha. Loki doesn’t mean any harm. No one finds strangers babies immediately adorable, especially when the kiddo is barely old enough to be more than a sack of wrinkles.”

“Talk about my niece like that again and I’ll drop you out a window.” Natasha retorted, her green eyes tracking over Loki with a hint of curiosity. “Another Omega, Tony? I think you’ve collected enough, don’t you?”

“Play nice, Tasha.” Tony stared down at his daughter in delight as she grabbed at his finger. “Loki is Thor’s sibling and welcome here, do you understand? I know you don’t like new people in the compound, but make an exception.”

“Yes Alpha.” Natasha said obediently, and didn’t look away from Loki until Tony had said his goodbyes and headed down the hall singing quietly to Maria.

“He’s right you know.” she said firmly. “I don’t like new people in the compound. The last person to show up announced tried to drop Tony off the side the Tower in the city. I suggest you tread carefully until I decide I trust you or not.”

“Did you threaten Thor when he came to your compound?” Loki returned, unable to help their wings ruffing up at the hostility from the Beta. They towered over Natasha by at least a foot and she was still glaring, posturing, lifting her snow white feathers as if she was ready to fight.

“Thor wasn’t hiding knives on his person when he came to meet my Alpha.” the Beta snarled and Loki blinked a few times, surprised she had noticed. “One in your sleeve and another on your ankle? You might be magic, but there is no disguising the stance of anyone wearing a weapon.”

“Right.” Loki let their glamour slip and lay the daggers out on the desk, softening their tone apologetically. “Just like Thor is never without Mjolnir, I am never without my knives. I mean neither you nor your niece any harm.”

“Thor wouldn’t have brought you here if you did.” Natasha made a visible effort to relax her shoulders. “And I promise I don’t make it a habit to threaten Omegas. Things are different now that our family is growing, you understand.”

Loki didn’t answer, asking instead, “Your Alpha is smaller than I imagined he would be. Thor talks of Anthony as if he could challenge the gods but in reality, the Alpha is--”

“Pocket sized.” The Beta’s lips twisted in a smile. “Yes. Tony isn’t what you’d expect in an Alpha, but I think we love him all the more for it. Have you met the rest of our family?”

“I’m not sure how many there are.” Loki admitted and Natasha snorted, “Then you haven’t met everyone. Come along, pretty Omega. I’ll take you to meet everyone else.”

“Pretty Omega.” Loki raised their eyebrows. “A common term in your household? I’ve been called pretty or lovely at least three times since arriving.”

“Well what else would we call all the lovely, pretty Omegas who live here?” Natasha held out her hand. “Come on. I’m not an Alpha panting after you and not one of the other perpetually horny Omegas trying to get into your shockingly well fitted pants. Your virtue is safe with me. Our Alpha asked that I show you around while he’s with Maria, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Um.” Loki hesitated. “Perpetually horny Omegas?”

“Clint.” the Beta said dryly and Loki actually laughed a little. “That phrase always means Clint.”

***************

Clint and Sam were slow dancing to something jazzy when Natasha popped her head in to show Loki the kitchen, the Beta wriggling in between them to claim kisses from both before wriggling back out and announcing, “Whatever you’re cooking is burning, Clint. Quit being sappy with Sam and cook me some damn food.”

Clint squawked in embarrassment, Sam ran for the oven mitts and Natasha had a happy smile on her face as she led Loki away towards another part of the compound, their hands clasped loosely as they walked.

Natasha was softer than Loki had assumed she’d be. The stories of the Black Widow were numerous and bloody and Loki knew the Beta currently explaining how to use JARVIS could hurt him in a very real way, but she was so soft right now that it was hard to reconcile this version of Natasha with the one thought to be a product of brainwashing and control methods bordering on inhumane.

“Why are you looking at me?” Natasha wanted to know as she paused to show Loki the underground tunnel that led out to the pool complex. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m thinking you are very different than I assumed.” they said slowly. “But I think perhaps everyone in this family is--”

“--different because we are allowed to be human here.” Natasha finished. “Out in the world we are considered monsters, even civilians avoid me because I scent of cruelty and danger. Not here. Here I don’t have to be that person.”

“...I see.”

“You don’t.” Natasha pushed open a door so Loki could peek in at a dance studio lined with mirror. “But stick around a little and you will.”

Thor was still wrapped up in Steve so they avoided the gym, but Natasha stopped in to see Pepper where she was working in one of the offices, then took Loki to a different office to meet the Colonel James Rhodes.

He wasn’t as big an Alpha as Thor, but the span of his dark blue wings as they lifted in greeting for Natasha was enormous and even though his smile was friendly enough, Loki knew the Colonel was thoroughly judging them and most likely finding them wanting.

“Colonel.” Loki kept their own wings tucked back behind their shoulders in both an attempt at deference and perhaps even a little uncertainty. “I understand you are Anthony’s best friend.”

“Best friend, confidant, official liaison for the United States Air Force and the very last person you want to find yourself dealing with if you bring trouble to this family.” Colonel Rhodes said flatly. “Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Laufeyson? I wasn’t real thrilled about having a lightning throwing demi god in this house, not real thrilled about one that can magic himself into or out of whatever he damn well pleases.”

“Whatever they damn well please.” Natasha said at a near whisper and the Colonel put a hand to his heart and dipped his head in apology.

“--whatever they damn well please. Please forgive my blunder.” James pointed a finger at Loki all the same. “Keep the shenanigans to a minimum, I am stressed out enough dealing with this family.”

“You know Pepper deals with everything. Natasha snorted, her full lips twisting in a smirk. “You only moved in because you got tired of knowing I was sharing her bed every time you were away.”

Rhodey huffed a little, but only asked,“Where’s my niecey, Tasha?”

“With her Papa taking a nap.” Natasha answered promptly and James nodded as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Clint’s making dinner so don’t be late.”

“Yes ma’am.” The Colonel saluted and then nodded again to Loki. “Loki. Welcome to the compound. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine. Tones has knack for finding just the right fit for this chaos, and I’d be lying if I said he didn’t have a type tat you seem to fit perfectly.”

“A type.” Loki repeated blankly and James clarified, “Pretty. Tony’s type is pretty and he doesn’t care which gender or biology that comes in.”

“Oh.” Loki flushed an embarrassed red and Natasha dragged him away from Rhodey’s laughter. “Oh gods.”

“Don’t worry about that, Rhodey is only teasing.” Natasha put her hand up to stop Loki as she ducked into her own room and reappeared with a candy bar that she pressed into the Omega’s hand. “Eat, Omega. Dinner isn’t for another couple of hours.”

“Are you…” Loki turned the candy bar over a few times. “...are you taking care of me?”

“Welcome to the family.” The Beta rolled her eyes as if she couldn't believe she was doing it either. “We all take care of the Omegas and the Omegas take care of us and Tony takes care of everyone… get used to it.”

“And don’t worry about what Rhodey said.” Natasha spread her white wings up and out to shade the Omega from the sun as it streamed blindingly bright through the floor to ceiling windows in the atrium. “Tony does seem to think everyone is terribly pretty, but it’s not as if he has expectations for you while you’re here. Nothing like that, not our Alpha.”

Loki hated to admit they were relieved, but they sighed gratefully as they took a tentative bite of the sweet treat.

“Rhodey was the first one, you know.” The Beta said then. “He was our Alpha’s first family back before Tony had even presented and he’s the one constant in Tony’s life all these years. No matter what happens or how crazy our family gets, Rhodey is always there with Tony, always has his side. Theirs is one of the only relationships in our family that isn’t romantic.”

“I’ve… noticed.” Loki said slowly. “Everyone is in love with someone and everyone loves Tony?”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Natasha ran her fingers through Loki’s feathers absentmindedly and they shivered under the unexpected touch. “We should go make sure Clint and Sam haven’t burned down the kitchen. Come on.”

“...would you mind instead if I took a moment to myself?” Loki asked carefully. “If you trust me to wander your home alone, that is.”

“Dinner is at seven, don’t be late.” Natasha’s sharp green eyes no doubt saw how close to overwhelmed Loki was, and knew exactly why they needed some time, but she didn’t comment. “Our Alpha likes the entire family to eat together.”

“I am not fami--”

“I said what I said.” Natasha smiled a little and let their feathers mingle for a few seconds. “Don’t be late, Omega.”

**************

Thor found Bruce in the lab and the Alpha stood at the door for several minutes just watching his love, waiting for Bruce to give him permission to enter.

“You don’t have to ask.” Bruce finally said, a dull flush highlighting the scientist’s cheeks. “Our Alpha welcomes you to the lab, Bucky doesn’t mind you in here, and I’d certainly never tell you no. Just come in.”

“I’d never disturb your work.” Thor murmured and Bruce set his pencil down, brushing at his messy hair self consciously. “Are you alright to take a moment? Is this a good time, or should I return after you have finished?”

“Please.” Bruce pushed back from his desk and motioned for the Alpha to come closer. “Please um-- yes. This is a good time.”

Thor dragged another chair over until he was sitting knee to knee with Bruce, and then he extended both his hands and waited for his love to take them. Out of everyone in the family Bruce was the least physically affectionate. His Hulk had stripped everything away of his secondary biology, including his wings and even his scent, and after years of battling for control, Bruce’s need for space had evolved into a near intolerance for anyone other than a select few to approach him.

As Alpha of the family, Tony could hold hands with Bruce or even kiss him on the cheek and a few times after Tony had come home from Afghanistan, Bruce had even held the Alpha as they slept. Surprisingly enough, Bucky had bonded with Bruce after Steve had brought him home and now Thor counted himself lucky that Bruce trusted him as well.

And now when the brunette took both Thor’s hands and clasped their fingers together, Thor breathed a quiet sigh of relief and leaned in until their foreheads touched as well. “Hello, my love.”

“Thor.” Bruce closed his eyes and breathed out shakily, more than overwhelmed by the presence of the Alpha, both a little relieved and a little sad that he could not scent everything Thor was projecting. “I um-- I’m glad you’re back.”

“I missed you.” Thor started to lift his golden wings and paused, checking in with Bruce like he did every time and when Bruce nodded, the Alpha let the feathers settle into a wall around them, protecting their moment from any prying eyes, surrounding his love in the virile, protective aura of Alpha.

“I--” Bruce’s fingers tightened in Thor’s palm. “I missed you too.”

Thor rumbled in contentment and closed his eyes to soak in the moment. What he had with Anthony was teasing and playful, Alpha on Alpha as they traded dominance and cracked bed frames. With Steven it was beautiful submission and pure bonding, their bodies melding in the way only an Alpha and Omega could. But with Bruce it was a sharing of minds and an awareness of every inch of each other, a beautiful give and take and step and dance. Bruce was so sure he was unloveable and Thor took so much pleasure in showing all the different ways their love didn’t have to include sex or too much romance or anything other than companionship and soul deep respect.

It was beautiful and Thor was blessed to know such a perfect soul. “I missed you.” he said again, just to see Bruce smile. “I’m so happy to be home.”

From outside the lab Loki watched in open shock as Thor was the most gentle they’d ever seen, for once in his life not being an obnoxious, rutting idiot of an Alpha. Loki was shocked and maybe even--

“That is not for you to see!” Loki barely had time to register the danger in the air before black and silver wings flared open wide to block their view, a sound like metal screeching terrible across the floor and gouging up the hallway walls.

Then an impossibly solid hand planted into Loki’s chest and shoved them back into the wall as the intruder snarled, “JARVIS! The windows!”

“Yes sir.”

Loki couldn’t see through the wings to know if the lab windows shaded dark, and it was only the height of self control that kept them from flashing a bolt of power into the interloper’s body and sending him flying.

“Who the hell are you?” The Omega in Loki’s face was massive, every inch as big as Steven if not even bigger, pale eyes sparking in fury and an astonishingly silver hand raised as if ready to lay into Loki. “And why the hell are you staring at Bruce?”

“I think you should back away.” Loki said calmly, working to keep their own wings down so the situation wouldn’t escalate. “My name is Loki, I am Thor’s sibling and your Alpha has welcomed me into this—“

“Whoa whoa whoa.” A flurry of bronze and red feathers, and Tony skidded in between both Omegas, hands and wings raised. The Alpha kept his back to Loki and slid both hands into Bucky's hair, bringing the Omega down to eye level and trilling comfortingly. “Shhh, Omega, my Omega. My mate. Calm down. Calm down. There is no danger. No danger at all, we are all safe.”

“Who the hell is—“

“Loki came with Thor. No danger, none at all. I’ve already met them and so has Tasha and Steven-- it’s okay. It’s okay.” Tony bumped their noses together and crooned sweetly until the big Omegas wings started to lower. “There you are sweetheart, better?”

“Bruce wouldn’t like to be stared at.” Bucky cut his eyes at Loki over Tony’s shoulder. “Everyone knows that.”

“Well Loki didn’t, but they sure do now, don’t they?” Tony said mildly. “I love that you’re so protective over Bruce but it’s alright. Loki didn’t mean any harm.”

Loki held up their hands placatingly and Bucky's dangerous wings lowered a little bit more.

“Lo, it’s about dinner time why don’t you go find some food?” Tony didn’t take his eyes off Bucky. The Omega needed more these days, more settling, more gentleness, more of everything and the Alpha was all too happy to give one of his Omegas everything. “We’ll catch up in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” Loki said quietly, and it almost seemed like Bucky's big shoulders slumped in defeat, the Omega embarrassed and frustrated by his overreaction.

“There’s no harm done on either side” Tony sent Loki a quick, reassuring smile. “Find the rest of our family, alright? Me and Bucky will be up soon.”

Once Loki had gone, Tony turned back to Bucky and started to shake his head when he saw the tears in his mate’s eyes. “No no baby, none of that. What’s wrong?”

“M’sorry I got mad, but they’re a stranger in our home.” Bucky muttered. “Last time that happened we almost lost you, and this time it’s an Omega. I over reacted I know, and m’sorry.”

“No harm done.” Tony repeated, and then, “But what else is wrong?” The Alpha brought his wings up high to cover he and Bucky, not shying away from the dangerous edges at Bucky's primaries and pulling his Omega close. “Something else is wrong, what’s the matter?”

“They look like me.” Bucky said in a near whisper. “But you know—“ a vague gesture. “Prettier.”

“Prettier.” Tony repeated blankly. “What—“

“Long dark hair and real bright eyes?” Bucky challenged. “Black wings and real tall and sorta mysterious? That’s everything you love about me except they... they are a god and I’m…”

“Don’t you dare say you’re broken.” Tony closed his eyes when Bucky bent and hid his face on the Alphas shoulder. The few months since Maria had arrived had been difficult for Bucky both mentally and physically, weeks spent in recovery with a body that had been forcefully modified to withstand anything but somehow was nearly ruined by birth, a mind that had only been his own for a year or so completely changed by the arrival of a child.

Bucky had struggled to the point of tears and hopelessness and even though their entire family had stepped in to take turns with Maria and to trade off keeping Bucky company in his darker moments, it was still hard and it was still a struggle and it broke Tony’s heart every time he looked into Bucky's eyes and saw the lingering despair.

“Don’t you dare say you’re broken.” He said again, firmer this time. “My Omega, you are perfect. You are perfect, I’m not mad about what happened with Loki or that you and Bruce needed time away or anything. Please don’t worry, please don’t worry…”

“Hard to see you step between me and an Omega that looks like me. Sorta worried you’re gonna trade me in.” Bucky tried to laugh but it came out as a sob and Tony held him tighter. “Switch me out for a mate that isn’t such a mess?”

“I��d sooner rip my heart out.” Tony said honestly. “I love you with my entire soul, Buck. I’d never give you up, not even for an Omega with magic tricks.”

Bucky tried to smile and Tony hummed encouragingly. “Are you hungry, baby?”

“I should be.” Bucky mumbled. Sometimes he didn’t feel hungry for days and even though some of that might have been the super serum, more than likely it was depression and the Omega was trying so hard to not let it get the better of him. “Will you walk me to dinner? Stop and get Maria with me?”

“Of course I will.” Tony was small for an Alpha, but that didn’t stop him from standing on his toes to kiss his Omega for a long time. “Come on, pretty Omega, sweet perfect thing. Lets go get our girl.”

“I love you.” Bucky whispered and the Alpha growled, low and pleased.

“I love you too.”

***********

Dinnertime in the compound was less of a structured meal and more about everyone cramming together on various surfaces to eat off each others plates and share drinks, to fight over who got the last piece of dessert only to end up sharing it, and drawing straws to see who had to do dishes.

Tony had invested in a shocking amount of furniture to make sure everyone had a place to sit-- long couches and cozy sofas, over sized recliners and even a couple bean bags for those who wanted to sprawl out somewhere less structured.

Tonight, Colonel Rhodes propped up on one of the sofas with Pepper curled into one side mingling her pink feathers with his dark blue, and Natasha on the other side, both redheads stealing bites from his plate and laughing over his faux grumbling.

Bruce had a favorite recliner, the cushions worn into the proper shape for his wingless frame and Thor sat at his feet so they were close but not overwhelmingly close, with Steve plopped down next to Thor letting their nearly matching wings press together. The Alpha’s hand rested comfortably on the big Omega’s thigh, and unseen by most of the family, Bruce’s fingers lay just lightly on Thor’s shoulder.

Usually Tony took up the huge sectional couch and welcomed anyone who wanted to sit with him, but tonight he picked a smaller sofa and spread his beautiful wings wide so there was plenty of room for Bucky to snuggle into his arms, baby Maria tucked safely between her Dads as they traded off eating and holding her bottle so she wasn’t hungry. Bucky looked exhausted and Tony kept checking on his mate, trilling into his ear and leaving kisses on Bucky’s temple.

Clint had exactly zero issues with personal space, so when Sam flopped back onto an easy chair with his plate, the Beta had to quickly move it out of the way to make room for Clint as the Omega just flopped onto his lap and dug into his own food. Sam only sighed and rearranged his wings so the red feathers fell over Clint’s darker brown and they could both fit in the chair.

The entire room scented of contentment and family, of laughter and comfort and happiness, and standing in the kitchen door with a plate of food, Loki had never felt so out of place in their entire life.

No matter what Thor had said, no matter how nice everyone had been, no matter how stubbornly welcoming the family’s Alpha was, it was almost painful how obviously Loki did not fit in, and the flare of tentative hope that had been building in Loki’s chest all day flickered and--

--“Whoops! Sorry!” A flash of blue and silver and not even Loki’s godly reflexes could keep them from jumping in surprise, the plate dropping and spilling towards the floor.

“Oh for heavens-- forgive my brother.” A flare of red light and the food froze just before it hit the ground, a beautiful girl reassembling the plate in midair before handing it back to Loki with a sheepish smile. “PIetro says sorry but he’s really not. In fact I can promise he’s probably laughing about scaring your right this minute.”

“Um--” Loki blinked in surprise as the red magic faded from the air and the girl offered them a smile, her oddly clawed wings fluttering in the air before she moved towards the living room.

The Omega Clint jumped from his chair with a shout, brown wings flaring out in excitement and Loki’s jaw might have dislocated in sheer shock when the blue and silver flash slowed down enough to form into a young man with a huge smile and no wings at all.

His hands moved almost impossibly fast as he signed a greeting to the Omega--huh, Loki hadn’t noticed Clint’s hearing aids before-- and then the boy rotated on his heel and waved something to Tony, and electric blue feathers burst from his shoulders into brilliantly colored wings, flaring out in a greeting for the family before disappearing again.

“Tony.” the girl blew a kiss towards the Alpha before crossing to give Natasha a kiss on the cheek and murmur something in Russian. “Tasha. We have missed you.”

“I forgot to mention the twins, didn’t I?” Pepper suddenly appeared at Loki’s side, a fond smile on her face as she watched the twins make their way around the room. “They are always a little unsettling if you aren’t prepared.”

“Twins.” Loki said slowly and Pepper clarified, “Wanda and Pietro Maximoff Barton Stark. Clint rescued them from a war zone several years ago and Tony accepted them as family immediately. Just over a year ago we had paperwork drawn up to make them Clint and Tony’s legal children.”

“They are adopted at this age?” Loki wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Most of us don’t need to share the last same last name or anything to feel like family, but Wanda and Pietro were orphans. It was important to them to be family both in feeling and name so Tony made it happen. Officially our Alpha has three children-- Wanda and Pietro with Clint, Maria with Bucky.”

“But only Maria is actually his child.” Loki pointed out. “Adopted children aren't actual children are they? Especially not when they are so obviously not family. They look entirely different from anyone else.”

“Why on Earth would you say that?” Pepper actually laughed at them and Loki blinked down at her in surprise. “Why wouldn’t they be actual children, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Wanda has magic.” Loki said plainly. “The boy has powers and his wings come and go as he pleases? I cannot imagine that is widely accepted here on Midgard.”

“Why would it matter if it were widely accepted?” Pepper’s pink wings fluttered in annoyance. “It isn’t the children’s fault they are different. Magic and strange wings-- Bruce doesn’t have wings at all and Tony’s are a different color now than they were before Afghanistan. Bucky’s wings have knives on the edges and Sam is one of only a handful of people in the world to have red feathers. Mine used to be white and they faded to pink after I started taking suppressants and while Wanda’s aren’t like any we’ve seen before, they suit her perfectly. And to be honest, Pietro is so fast if his wings were out all the time he’d probably lose his feathers. We aren’t actually sure if it’s an original mutation that Hydra exploited, or one that was brought about by experimentation like Bruce’s Hulk, but it doesn’t matter. They are Clint and Tony’s children and that makes them family, weird wings or not.”

She waited a beat and then looked up at Loki. “It's the same with you, isn’t it? You are Thor’s sibling even though you look nothing like him? Surely you don’t feel like less than family because you are different?”

“I--” Loki’s mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come, and Pepper’s lovely green eyes dimmed in sympathy when she saw their distress.

“I’m very sorry to know that.” she said quietly. “But there is always room for one more in our family, if you want to be here.”

“I um--”

“Come on.” Pepper took Loki’s plate right from their hands and flicked her wings out to cover their shoulders and coax them further into the living room. “Come and eat with us, at least. No sense standing there lurking at the door, come on.”

Thor looked up in surprise when Loki came to sit in the living room, and his grin was nothing short of thrilled when Sam popped his recliner and patted at the arm rest, clearly making room for Loki and spreading his red wings wide to help hold Loki steady as they sat and started to eat.

“Is Loki actually a god?” Pietro whispered over loud and Clint answered, “They are as much a god as Thor.”

“But isn’t Thor a Chippendale’s dancer?” Pietro wondered and Natasha snorted soda up her nose when she laughed, the entire section of the room dissolved into laughter.

Loki sent Thor an uncertain look, but when big Alpha only nodded encouragingly, Loki made an effort to relax onto the chair a little more, taking the comfort and support from Sam’ wings with a hesitant smile.

Tony and Bucky watched from across the way, both sets of eyes trained on Loki and Bucky whispered, “Sure looks lost, don’t they? Looks a lot like how I used to.”

“Yeah, they do.” Tony shifted on the sofa so he could put Maria up over one shoulder and keep his other arm around his Omega. “It took you a while too, but you made it, right?”

“Dunno if I made it yet.” Bucky reached carefully carefully with his left hand and lay it over Maria’s back, smiling when the baby only sighed in her sleep. “But I’m making it, I think.”

“One day at a time, baby.” The Alpha planted a kiss on Bucky’s forehead. “You’re doing amazing.”

“I think I should apologize to Loki for earlier.” Bucky confessed. “Wasn’t right of me to jump at them. You guys didn’t let Tasha do that to me when I first showed up and I’d tried to kill her a few times as the Soldier.”

“I can talk to them if you want.” Tony offered. “Tasha already explained to him why our family is wary of newcomers, and I’m sure they know why a stranger hanging outside the lab raised alarms.”

“I’ll do it.” Bucky said stubbornly and Tony kissed him again. “I remember what it’s like to feel like I’d never fit in, I can talk to them.”

“Tony.” Rhodey came up to see them, patting at Maria’s diapered booty then crouching down so his dark wings weren’t looming over Bucky. “Pepper says we’re taking the entire family out shopping for Thanksgiving dinner and decorations tomorrow?”

“I thought it sounded fun!” Tony defended and the other Alpha said flatly, “It sounds like a nightmare. It’s hard enough just getting the people who live here full time coordinated enough to do group activities, but now we’ve got four extra with Thor bringing Loki and the twins moving in for the season, not to mention my niecey.”

“Oh me and Maria are staying home.” Bucky said quickly and both Alphas turned to look at him in surprise. “I uh-- I don’t want to go out with everyone and I still sorta hate the city and she might get sick in the cold, you know?”

“Are you sure, honey?” Tony waved Rhodey off and lowered his voice. “I’ll stay home with you if you want, just to help out.”

“We’ll be fine.” Bucky said determinedly. “We’ve never been just me and her, someone else is always here and it’ll be good for me to know I can do it.”

“Bucky--”

“Alpha.” The Omega’s pale eyes flashed in irritation, the dangerous edges of his wings clicking together. “We’ll be fine. It’s been almost four months and I’ve been getting a lot better and haven’t had a bad day in a while. We’re fine.”

“Okay.” Tony finally agreed. “You let me know if you change your mind though?”

“I won’t change my mind.” Bucky reached for the baby and tucked her close to his chest, purring low in his throat and cuddling her up over his heart. “It’ll be a nice quiet day. No Sam and Clint, no Stevie gettin’ horny with Thor--” Tony huffed a laugh. “--and I love Pep and Tasha but they only fight over who gets to hold Maria. We can snuggle up, watch a movie, have some peace and quiet.”

“If that’s what you want.” The Alpha tipped his head as Clint passed, and his Omega obediently stopped to give him a kiss. “But you know you can call me and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and come and get you.”

“I know Alpha.” Bucky motioned for a kiss as well and Clint murmured a soft ‘yay!’ before kissing Bucky too. “I know.”

****************

The compound was vacated by nine am the next morning and Bucky walked around the empty halls with a relieved smile on his face, his huge wings let out and relaxed since he didn’t have to worry about cutting anyone with the sharp edges as he wandered from room to room with Maria.

The baby wanted down to the floor in the movie room so the Omega sprawled into one of the comfy chairs and watched her crawl around and explore, grinning at her gummy smiles, purring and trilling when she cooed at him.

“Papa loves you.” he whispered and Maria clapped her little hands. “M’sorry it’s been hard for a while, but I promise I’m gettin’ better. Plus you’ve got this whole family that loves you more than anything else in the whole world, so even when I’m not doing okay, you’ll always have someone who wants to hold you.”

Maria clapped her hands again and Bucky swooped her up and tossed her just barely into the air, chuckling quietly when she exploded into baby belly laughs. “Aw sugar, you are amazing.”

Lunchtime found them in the kitchen, Maria sat on one of the counters with the Omega’s wing spread out to block her from crawling towards the edge while Bucky slapped together a quick sandwich and warmed a bottle up. Then it was to the living room to try and eat and that’s when their relatively peaceful morning started to fall apart .

First it was the formula that had been heated too hot and Maria burst into dismayed tears when it hurt her mouth.

“Oh no no no.” Bucky hurried to cool her mouth with sips of water and ended up dropping his sandwich all over the floor as he tried to comfort the baby. “Sorry sweetie, Papa’s sorry, usually your Auntie does that and I forgot to check the temperature. Damn it. Sorry, hold on--”

The Omega cracked the plate on the floor when he stood and slipped a little, wings flaring out and bladed primaries cutting into the sofa. Even though his dangerous feathers were no where near the baby, Maria screamed at the too loud schwing of metal and Bucky cursed again.

“Damn it.” He picked Maria up, rocking her soothingly and trying to keep the panic out of his own voice when the baby’s screams only got louder because now she was scared and hungry and she could feel the unsteadiness in her Papa’s scent.

“Please stop crying, sweetie.” Bucky pleaded, side stepping the mess on the floor and feeling around for the bottle on the couch. “Papa will get this cooled down and then we can get some num nums and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine--”

It was hard not to feel like an absolute failure as the baby sobbed into his shoulder and flailed at him with tiny fists, impatient as Bucky tried to get the bottle open with one hand so he could add a splash of colder water to the formula and cool it down. The bottle top finally wrenched off but te nipple tore in the process and formula went everywhere across the kitchen counters.

Bucky stared at the mess with tears in his own eyes, trying and failing to comfort Maria, trying and failing to tell himself that it was okay, it was just a mess, it was doable. Right now it felt like too much and like he was the worst father and that this only proved he would never be fixed, he would always be broken--

“Bucky.” A voice from the doorway and Maria startled, screaming all over again as Bucky whirled around with dangerous wings raised high and fury leeching into his scent. He didn’t know who the hell had snuck up on them or why the hell they were in his house but he was gonna kill--

“Loki.” Bucky lowered his wings hastily when he saw the other Omega and tried to croon soothingly at Maria. “What-- what are you doing here?”

“The thought of shopping made me break out in hives, so I stayed behind.” Loki said dryly, and when Bucky only looked at them, they clarified, “I’m joking. I um-- I just didn’t want to go, so I was in my rooms. I heard the baby and--”

“--and what?” Bucky tensed and that only made Maria more agitated. “We’re fine. We’ve got it under control.”

“Do you?” Loki didn’t mean to sound condescending, but it came across that way all the same and they swore quietly when Bucky’s wings lifted again. “What I mean to say is--” they held out their arms and motioned for the baby. “Would you like me to hold her so you can get cleaned up?”

“...are you serious?” Bucky asked slowly and Loki nodded. “Why? I was so mean to you yesterday--”

“Shhh.” Loki moved forward faster than Bucky was expecting, and both he and Maria gaped when Loki spread their coal black wings over both of them, the green eyed Omega humming something soft and echo-y as he took Maria right from Bucky’s arms and put her to their chest.

“There’s a love.” they hummed and Maria blinked stunned blue eyes up at them. “You’re alright, little one. Bucky, why don't you prepare another bottle and I’ll take her back to the living room.”

“I--” Bucky’s silver and black wings dropped in defeat. Even Loki was better at this than he was. “Sure.”

Trudging back out to the living room a few minutes later, Bucky first noticed the sandwich mess was cleaned up, and then noticed that Maria wasn’t crying. In fact she was cooing in interest and excitement, staring up at Loki as the dark wings flickered silver and then jade green over and over, the colors cascading down their feathers in a nearly hypnotic show.

“...what are you doing? What happened to the mess?”

“I’m actually terrible with children.” Loki held out their hand for the bottle. “Or rather, terrible with babies. Teenagers I like very much, they want to cause so much mischief but usually it’s all in good fun. Babies frighten me.”

“But--”

“It’s my magic.” Loki spread the multi hued feathers wider in a clear invitation for Bucky to sit next to them. “A simple fix to clean up the mess, and Frigga taught me a calming spell to keep my own emotions in check years ago. It's useful with cranky little ones, nothing that alters their psyche, just enough to make them forget what they were upset about until we can fix it.”

“And um--” Bucky hesitated, not sure if he wanted to sit next to the mercurial god. “Your wings?”

The other Omega was quiet a moment, then in a very small voice, “My wings are actually silver but the glamour given to me as a child kept them green. I learned I was adopted, learned of my heritage only a year ago and since then, I’ve turned them black. I felt as if the green wings were a lie and in Asgard, silver wings belong to the Frost Giants, so black was neither of those colors and yet a clear warning for people to stay away.”

Another moments hesitation and Loki admitted, “I never really fit into Thor’s world and now that I know I am not actually a part of his world, it all makes sense. I understand why it never felt like home.”

“I know what it’s like to not fit in.” Bucky finally sat, tucking his wings behind his shoulders so he wouldn’t disrupt Loki’s feathers. “Took me a long time to feel like family here, and I was finally better when Maria came along and now sometimes I feel like I’ll never--” he shook his head and sighed wearily. “Anyway. I’m um-- I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“There is no harm done.” Loki said quietly. “You reacted exactly as I would have in the same situation, and I have had worse done to me with no apology at all. Bruce is lucky to have many who guard his intimacy so closely.”

“Bruce was the first person to make me realize I wasn’t ruined.” Bucky nearly whispered. “I didn’t think I’d ever fit into this family. Bruce told me that we are all a little broken, but when we’re together, we’re all a little less broken and that our Alpha has taken all our broken edges and molded them into something beautiful as family.”

“You’re doing wonderful with this little one, I can’t imagine being responsible for something so precious. Even on the difficult days you love her and I think that’s all that matters, that a child grows up loved.” Loki matched the other Omega’s hushed tone, and added. “...I’d like to know what it feels like to be a little less broken.”

Bucky gave him a tired sort of smile and nodded. “Welcome to the family, Lo.”

*************

When their family returned from shopping that night, Tony found Loki stretched out on the couch, black wings draped over Bucky and Maria who were lying over his heart.

“Alpha?” Pepper came up behind. “What are you looking--oh.”

“I want one.” Tony decided and Pepper laughed softly. “Tony, I don’t think you have a choice in the matter. Every one of us has brought someone else into the family, and I think Bucky and Maria have decided that Loki is staying.”

“Tis good for my sibling to--” Thor came up on Tony’s other side, but he stopped mid step, the words failing when Loki’s feathers lost their matte color and shifted towards glossy black, green and silver primaries suddenly gleaming under the soft lights. “Loki.”

The Omega opened bright green eyes and offered them a hesitant smile, and Tony put his hand to his heart as it clenched in happiness.

“Another place at the Thanksgiving table.” he whispered and Pepper whispered back, “It’s already taken care of.”

***************

Thanksgiving came a week later and the entire family crowded around the table in the formal dining room of the compound for the feast they’d all worked to prepare for the last several days.

There were five different turkeys-- one for Thor alone, one for Steve and Bucky to share, three for everyone else-- a spiral ham and a beautiful eggplant dish for Pepper. Enough sides to make the table groan including six types of potatoes, gallons of gravy and literal pounds of stuffing. Dessert after dessert after dessert on the side table and at least a dozen bottles of wine and it was all set with Tony’s mother’s best china and sparkling glasses.

The Alpha stood at the head of the table and made a toast about the past year and how far their family had come, how wonderful it was to be all together this time of year and all the amazing things they could look forward to in the next few months.

“I am very proud to be your Alpha.” Tony glanced round the table at every familiar face, smiling when he saw Yinsen who had come in on a very early flight just to be here for dinner, stopping to linger over where Bucky and Loki were tucked close together with Maria on their lap, fluttering his wings in happiness when he saw Steve and Thor tucked together. Bruce was holding onto Thor’s hand, Clint was squished between the twins, and Pepper was perched on Rhodey’s lap, Natasha snuggled in next to Sam. “I have a million things to be thankful for, but the ones that matter the most are gathered at the table tonight. Here’s to another year of family, and another year of happiness. Cheers.”

“CHEERS!” The room burst into shouts and cheers, clapping and even a few whoops, everyone sharing kisses and hugs before the food was served.

Tony stepped away from the table and went to start opening the wine, watching his family with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Tones?” Rhodey came over to help. “Everything alright? It’s not like you to not fight for the first helping of stuffing.”

“Every Christmas I make some cheesy comment about how I never think I can get happier and then every year I get even more happy, you know?” Tony pulled the cork from a bottle and set it aside.

“Yep, I know.” Rhodey twisted another off and handed the bottle off to Pietro to pass down the table. “You gonna say it early this year?”

“I was thinking about it.” Tony admitted and James laughed, pulling his oldest friend into a quick hug.

“Go ahead Tones, I won't even tease you for it.”

Tony smiled, a sheen of tears in his eyes as he looked out over his family and felt the merriment in the air. “Damn Rhodey, I just don’t know if I’ll ever be happier than this right here. Look at all I have to be thankful for, I have everything. What else could I possibly want?”

“Everything?” Rhodey watched closely as Steve politely turned down both the shot of tequila Clint pressed into his hand, and the wine Pietro offered and sipped at water instead. “You think so, huh?”

“Pretty sure.” Tony smiled a little. “Pretty sure.”

“We’ll see.” Rhodey patted Tony on the shoulder and motioned to the table. “Come on. Go get a plate. Our family loves you but I dunno if they love you enough to save you any food.”

“Thankful for you, Rhodey.” Tony blew him a kiss and like an absolute idiot, Rhodey caught it and put it over his heart.

“Thankful for you too, Tony.”

***************

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