Chapter Text
Loki had run. The heavy snow pushed aside with each footfall, and he could hear the hounds getting closer. The snow grew heavier the farther he ran, the wind was harsh, and Loki feared he wouldn’t lose them.
Asgardian Vikings. Too many of them had found him wandering the outskirts of Jotunheim and, like a beast, began hunting him. They chased and attempted to wrangle him to the ground. He ran until his lungs burned and the skin on the soles of his feet had become raw. He’s forced to slow when he slips, his ankle twists and he yells out in pain.
The Asgardians laugh and direct their horses to the sound, following their dogs toward where Loki tries to drag himself up from the ground, digging his fingernails into the snow and forcing himself to crawl when he’s unable to stand.
One of their hounds bites down on the fur he wears, and Loki bites his lip to stop himself from screaming when he falls again. The dogs growl and snap their jaws at him. They’re circling him, daring him to run again.
Loki breathes and when he sees the first Asgardian he glares. Red eyes filled with anger and disgust when the man smiles down at him.
“Tie him and place him over my horse. Make sure the knots are strong enough for ice.” He turns back towards Loki and stares at his swelling ankle. “Remember, a crippled slave is nothing but another mouth to feed. Watch his leg.”
Loki is bound and tossed over the man's horse like he was fresh kill, he clenched his teeth. Thrashing during the ride until the rider grew irritated, slamming his fist onto Loki’s back when he’s had enough of Loki’s persistence.
Loki gasps, grunts when the pain lingers making him unable to breathe for a few seconds. Still, he resists until they stopped at the water’s edge, the oceanic border between Jotunheim and Asgard. Loki’s eyes widen seeing their longboat.
His struggle grows, nearly biting his captor when the man attempts to grab him.
Loki had heard of them. Heard of these animals with blond hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes... these savages that conquered and stole from other realms. His father had warned him of these “men” who raided and killed for pleasure. He’d just never expected to see any in his lifetime.
He was thrown onto the ship still tied, the wood scraping his skin purple from the force. But it was the humiliation, not the pain that made him glare at them from the ground. It was their laughs, their smiles, and their greed that had boiled Loki’s blood.
Loki struggled in his binds, flinched when his ankle throbbed, the pain growing worse each second that passed.
He grew weak. Hunger and thirst invaded him, and the sway of the ship made his stomach turn.
The leader, the man that ordered his capture, Ragnar, Loki had learned, nudged him onto his side.
“Stop playing weak.” He spoke. “Fix your ankle, we’ll be in Asgard soon.”
When Loki does nothing but narrow his eyes Ragnar leers at him. The man lowers himself, grabs Loki’s hair, and forces him to look him in the eyes.
“Witches in the Jotnar are said to be beautiful... a few more years and you’ll fill in nicely...” He trails off, eyes lingering over Loki’s body. Disgusted, Loki forces himself to look away, his limbs having gone numb from being tied for too long.
Ragnar smiles, leaving him where Loki had been tied for the past three days.
Loki aches by the time they reach Asgard. The land is warmer. The snow is soft, unlike Jotunheims ice storms. When Ragnar grabs him from the floor Loki vomits. Weak and sick from dehydration and hunger, the sudden movement was too much and Ragnar glares at him, stares at the mess he’s created on the floor of his ship.
The grip over Loki’s arm tightens before he orders someone else to clean up the vomit.
They cut the ropes from his legs and tried to force Loki to walk. Loki, angry, tries to regain his legs but his knees grow weak, and his swollen ankle ignites pain, and he falls back down, the rocky shores of Asgard pierce his skin and Ragnar grabs him again.
“Get up,” he pulls Loki up again, but the Jotnar can barely keep himself awake. Too fatigued he glares at Ragnar when the man tries to get him up again.
Loki manages to limp. Ragnar pulls him roughly, but he takes this chance to take in his surroundings, he squints his eyes. It was too bright. Too much. Too terrifying. He was surrounded by Asgardians. Having never seen blond men or women in his lifetime he was now unable to escape them. Even their citizens were all bigger, firmer, like warriors here. He’d only ever seen Jotnar warriors and while they were larger than Asgardians it was rare to see the size of mere citizens.
Loki was barely a student, barely began training his seidr. Barely a man.
He was pushed into the largest building they had, shaped like a dome. He looks around and catches the eye of another man who stares at him and his captors with a frown. His eyes are gold and bronze in the light. His dark skin comforts Loki who understands darkness more than the brightness that is Asgard and its people.
Heimdall, Asgard's second in command, he realizes, stares at them with weariness and Loki’s gaze doesn’t falter from him until another enters the dome. His steps are heavy and loud and when Loki turns to face him, still tied and weak from his travel his breathing becomes shallow.
“King.” His captor says. “We’ve brought a gift. A young witch from Jotunheim.”
Odin stands over them like a statue. Too big for them all and Odin stares at Loki, his eye narrows and then he grabbed Loki’s face. Looks over him and his heritage lines, once pleased with what he’s found, turns around toward Heimdall.
“Have the seidr masters of Alfheim prepare bands.” He turns to Loki, the Jotun’s eyes widen, and Loki struggles again. Twisting himself, willing himself to find a loose knot. Odin continues walking towards Loki, regardless of the young Jotun’s panic.
“And... have them reinforced on the fires of Muspelheim.”
“No.” Loki breathes out for the first time and his captors look at him with a shocked silence. As if they thought the young Jotun was unable to speak. “You can’t do this,” Loki says, teeth bared and red eyes glaring. “I am a prince- Loki Laufeyson- you can’t-”
Odin grabs his jaw, and the grip causes Loki to flinch from pain.
“A prince no longer.” He says, voice low and demanding. Loki tries to pry his head away but then feels too much warmth coming from Odin’s hands. Then he feels as if he’d been set on fire. He screams in agony, his pupils widen, and he can feel his heritage lines forced to flatten into his skin.
The pain lasts for too long and Loki passes out from the glamour Odin has placed over him.
When he wakes, he’s on the floor in a small cell and his leg is chained. He gets up in a panic and his breathing slows when he looks at his hands, he's pale. His blue skin was gone. He’s shaking. He looks at himself and his chest becomes heavy when he doesn’t see his heritage lines. When he reaches for his head he pauses. They’ve cut his hair. He’s been made a slave.
The familiarity of his own body is gone. He gets up from the ground and he gasps when his swollen ankle throbs.
They’ve put bandages on haphazardly and Loki doubts they did it with any care at all.
He glares when he tries to focus on healing his wound now that he was alone and sure that he wouldn't be watched. He learned simple healing magic in Jotunheim but wasn't sure if it would work for a twisted ankle, even when he tries he finds that he can’t. His breathing accelerates. He tries to summon ice and finds that he can’t. As if they’d ripped a part of him out, he no longer feels his seidr in his veins as he once had. He feels... almost hollow. He looks at his wrists and there he sees the bands. Heavy and unshakable. Loki wants to vomit but swallows it down in fear of what his captors will do seeing him mentally weakened.
His thoughts turn from panic to worry. He wonders what Odin planned to do with him. His thoughts go back to Ragnar's disgusted gaze and nearly shakes. They wouldn’t send a prince, stolen or not, to prostitution. Odin wouldn’t disgrace a royal line...
Panic seethes over Loki and he grabs one of the heavy chains and tries to find a way out of them. He’s desperate and nearly breaks his thumb trying to pull out his hand from the band when the doors in the further corridor slam open. The metal scrapes against the ground and Loki goes still. His ankle painfully swollen he still takes steps back until his back hits the nearest wall.
The guard ignores him entirely, leading him by a chain around his throat like he was a dog and Loki is yanked when he slows.
He’s taken before Odin. The throne room is massive but growing in the royal court it does little to make Loki feel small. Something Odin must have been hoping for. Of course, no King would see just anyone in the throne room... only when they want to prove they were worth more than the one they looked down upon.
Instead, Loki doesn’t let his eyes wander from where they glare at Odin. The man looks down at him and is pleased to see Loki no longer having seidr. Loki was no longer as strong as he would’ve been. No, now Loki was only a young Jotun with nothing. Not even his heritage lines with the glamour. Odin is pleased to find a replacement.
“Tell me, Jotun, why do you think you’re here?”
Loki’s brows furrow. His breathing slows and he says nothing fearing Odin will use whatever he says against him.
Odin continues, uncaring of Loki’s silence.
“If you want to live... peacefully here... you will take care of my sons.”
Loki’s eyes narrow, calculating, he glances towards the empty seat by Odin’s grand throne and only now realizes it is empty. Their Queen was not here.
Odin takes note of his gaze but doesn’t mention it. He knows Loki understood.
“I am far too busy to raise them and, you, want to live, you take care of them well and I will free you when they are no longer boys.”
Loki speaks for the first time since his last plea and this time he glares, anger more than fear consumes him.
“And why must I be forced to take care of Asgards bastards? Why not find a homely Asgardian woman to replace the Queen-”
Loki’s diaphragm is punched by the guard who brought him here, and he hurls over, heaving when the pain settles.
“Take care of what you say Jotun.” Odin says. He turns to where the empty seat is, and his eye softens briefly. “Not all know of what has come to pass and I will not let my people know until either Týr or Thor are fit for the throne. You, have come here to keep silent and to do as you’re told.”
Loki coughs, the pain subsides when he stands again. “I am to play pretend and raise your sons.” Loki breathes out, eyes heavy over Odin who begins to look older by the minute. “You’ve incited a possible war with this and-”
Odin laughs and Loki is shocked into silence from how loud it was.
“Jotunheim? Start a war?” He stands and leans down over Loki. “Your realm is already dying. Even if Laufey’s anger is powerful enough your people are weak.”
Loki’s eyes are filled with hatred and when Odin laughs again, shaking his head this time Loki’s hands turn into fists.
Odin turns to a guard. “Bring my boys here. They need to meet their new caretaker.”
When Loki sees them for the first time, he thinks they’re small. Týr, having darker hair, nearing brown but not quite tied up and away from his face, he had dark blue eyes. His brows were heavy and low as if he had been frowning his whole life. Thor, however, looked softer. Bright blond hair, long and past his shoulders, and a smile so wide Loki can see how many teeth he’s lost. His eyes are bright blue like the waters of Jotunheim and Loki is surprised to see how quick Thor was to trust.
Having been threatened to agree, Loki spent the first few days of captivity with both Thor and Týr. Children were different here than he knew. In Jotunheim the children were less brittle and they loved to wrestle with each other and hunt on their own as early as five. It was easy to entertain them as Loki would often just create snow beasts from his seidr and let them have a go at the beast. But Asgardian children were...trained. From childhood, Loki observed how Asgardians forced their children to train how to fight as if they would be going to war any minute. Almost obsessed with an imaginary enemy ready to cut their throats. It was particularly strange when he noticed how proud Asgardians were of denying children the freedom of stupidity. Watched as they had no time to be what they were, children.
Too different from one another, Jotuns and Asgardians, that it gave Loki whiplash to see such a difference. Almost like night and day.
While Týr, being older, was quieter, and preferred to spend his time sitting in Loki’s lap to read Thor often wanted Loki to explore with him.
Once, Loki had been told by Odin to help Týr with his studies for an entire day, aided him with training techniques he needed to memorize, and Odin was pleased to find Loki was good at teaching. Pleased enough that he had forced him to teach Týr until the boy was perfectly adept at recalling it all from memory. This had made Thor volatile. It was when his power began, it was when the thunder grew, and the rain wouldn’t stop.
Odin was pleased with this too. Loki was not. Having been the one forced to calm the boy and his storms.
“Please, just one-”
“We’ve already gone to the field once, no more. Stay here and play with your things.” Loki snaps at him while Týr waited behind Thor as if he thought they each had to take turns speaking to Loki.
Thor frowned, much too stubborn when he grabs Loki’s hand and starts pulling him. When Loki pulls away and begins to ignore Thor entirely, turning to Týr when the boy asks him a question. While helping Týr with his studies Thor grows angry as he watches Loki with his brother, like the child he was he pushes Týr to the ground and Loki is momentarily stunned when Thor begins to fight his brother on the ground.
Loki yells at them both. Yells loud enough it manages to have both the boys freeze. Týr pushes Thor off and he glares at him.
“He started it.” Týr says, still angry at having been attacked for no apparent reason.
“You’re the one who’s taking Loki all to yourself- that's not fair.” Thor says, believing his reasoning to make sense but Loki is already aggravated, and Thor’s behavior startles him. Possessiveness in an Asgardian only leads to anger and, as Loki has encountered already, an angry Odinson causes only damage.
In a sudden sense of self-preservation Loki turns to Thor, taking his small hand before taking Týr’s. He leads them out of the room. Towards the kitchens.
“Supper should be served soon. You two eat first and calm your nerves.”
Thor smiles, quickly content with holding Loki’s hand while Týr mutters under his breath how Thor was the one in the wrong.
As a boy Thor is weak to emotion, strong storms and long rains have permeated Asgard for weeks now since he found Loki taking care of Týr when the boy had fallen ill. A simple cold was all it was but Thor took this as favoritism and retaliated with thunder. Such jealousy in a child had made Loki almost laugh at how pitiful Thor was, grasping- begging for attention from Loki. Odin had done these boys wrong. Raising them with only a cruel iron hand and a coldness, both Thor and Týr have grown to become starved for affection.
Affection that Loki is now tired of giving.
Thor and Týr knew nothing of Loki’s heritage, nor did they question the gold bands that hung too thick around Loki’s thin wrists.
Either blissfully unaware or entirely indifferent, neither had asked about the new limp in his gait or when the dark bruises over his upper arms would be seen accidentally. Loki hadn’t ever cared if they bothered to notice, he'd be more mortified if they did acknowledge the wounds, it was best that they kept shut about his appearance entirely.
Loki smiled at Thor, the bruises that stained the side of his mouth ached. His siedr long gone and restrained so he suffers the humiliation of these bruises being seen. He limps when he walks, and his freshly swollen ankle throbs. A lesson not to attempt to run again. Thor smiles back, taking Loki’s hand and holding him close.
It was late, the chill of the night air reminded Loki of home for a few brief seconds, so he closed his eyes and shut those memories away like they were forbidden.
Thor had thrown another tantrum, a wailing child was detestable, even if they were lovely. Thor begged and cried until Loki was released from Odin’s throne room. The boy had learned early on that the throne room, his fathers' room, was an ugly place for Loki and wanted the Jotun not to enter.
Loki would never admit he was grateful for the screaming boy's interruption.
“I would stay by your side for all of time if you wished it, my Lord.”
Loki only says this to appease the child but means nothing of it. It was simply placating to calm a storm before the thunder grew too angry.
“Then you’ll be here with me forever?” Thor asked, almost a plea.
Loki’s mouth twitches. “Yes, I’ll be by your side.”
Thor is young but so was Loki. A youth and barely reaching puberty Loki longs for things Jotun his age don’t usually long for. He longs for freedom. He longs to go back home. To see his father and brothers once again. He dreams of that often and when he wakes, he wakes to a nightmare.
In the end his beginning was a tragedy.
Being a Jotun slave trapped in Asgard surrounded by Asgardian Vikings in such a strange land, captured by Odin, by their “king” he was taken from his birth land and used as a glorified nanny for his pathetic sons. Forced Loki into a glamour and took his power and status as Prince away from him practically overnight.
Loki feels anger grow, a strong resentment, when he thinks of these things too deeply. Odin having stolen a prince from a land that cannot start a war, is a criminal act, a deplorable and-may the Norns forgive him-Loki wants to hurt the king in the only way he knew he could. Now that the Queen has passed Odin had few weaknesses. Months have passed and he’s grown used to the palace, used to Odin and his set of triggers that inspire wrath.
As he grew during those months his body has as well. It’s a curse. A vile disgusting curse to be born beautiful around selfish men.
The King had been leering more and more. An old man wasting away too busy fighting imaginary wars had now turned his interest toward Loki and it had become increasingly more disturbing. The throne room was a room of darkness, monsters unknown and hidden waiting for Loki to step in each time.
Loki turned to Thor. Glared at the boy as he nodded off toward sleep.
He stares until he knows every detail of his young face. He watches his soft breathing, his chest raising up and down gently. Loki reaches for a pillow and lifts it over the boy's face. He glared, gripping the pillow tightly, teeth biting his lower lip when he realized he was shaking.
He can’t.
Loki squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t. For all that he’s worth Loki can’t kill the boy. Even when he shares the blood of his tormentor.
He drops the pillow and swallows. Perhaps, if he could come to hate both Thor and Týr he won’t hesitate the next time he faces them.
He stays there for a few seconds longer before he hears something outside of Thor’s chambers. He stands when he hears fast steps run down the corridor. Panicked Loki moves and looks out only to see nothing.
He leaves the room quietly. Fast steps back to his own small chamber meant more for a maid but at least he was allowed a small washroom.
When he wakes the next morning, he’s dragged out of bed in only his sleeping clothes, growing hair in disarray, and with a cry when delicate skin meets the cool and harsh ground. He’s taken directly into the throne room and is left on the floor and forced to meet Odin’s wrath.
Someone had seen him. Watched as Loki contemplated killing Thor in his sleep. Loki is lashed twenty times and the skin on his back is ripped open and bleeding even before the end of his torture. Odin speaks the entire time, lecturing how Jotuns have no souls, no care for the innocent, and how dare Loki even think of hurting his precious boys and Loki is forced to ignore the irony each time he is whipped.
Odin is breathing harshly by the end of it. Glaring, eyes hovering over his body once before he forces himself to turn away leaving his own throne, knowing Loki wouldn’t be able to move for a while in this state.
In his tortured silence Loki weeps. He cries for the first time since his capture and he’s more than angry at succumbing to the pain he’s numbed himself from for so long. The pain became dull enough to help him sit and look around the golden throne. Nothing but Odin's grandiosity is displayed, and it makes Loki sick.
He freezes when a small hand touches his shoulder. Loki looks up and sees Thor’s bright, blue eyes, the tears pooled there and Loki’s brows furrow before anger consumes him, and he moves away from his touch.
How could you cry? You don’t know the meaning of tragedy. You pompous little-
And yet, Thor cries and cries, wrapping his small arms around Loki’s shoulders and pushing his wet face into Loki’s throat. Holding Loki as if he would be pushed away again.
At this Loki realizes Thor had never seen him cry before, doubts the child had ever seen a wounded back, ripped apart and blooded and he bared witness to all of Loki’s tragedy. Too young to understand what had come over his father to wound his nursemaid.
Loki glares through his tears. Angrier that it was this child that had cried for him. Comforted by these small hands and wide blue eyes that knew nothing of Loki’s losses and pain and yet wept for him as if he knew it all.
Loki thinks it was that fateful day that caused the young boy to grow protective, and overly selfish of all things that involved Loki.
Days turned to years turned to centuries and Loki would care for both Thor and Týr. Týr, having grown quickly enough in maturity led to him jumping from Loki’s protective nest into the training fields when Odin deemed him old enough.
Thor, however, took much longer to grow. Immature, impatient, and high-strung, always ready to burst when he became overwhelmed by any emotion whether it was from anger, envy, joy, or sadness. Storms were common for the young man who felt too much. Loki had learned to calm the rains, to silence the lightning. It was tiring enough, and Loki had grown from a youth to a young man.
Odin had called for him. Panicked, he stood in his chambers for far too long before he regained his senses, quickly going through all the things Thor could have done for this call to have been made.
The Throne room hadn’t faded from the gold, it was brighter than ever and filled with trinkets that were more for show than for any real purpose.
Odin was alone, confused Loki would scan the room for the chosen guards meant to punish him but found none. Aware of this sudden difference his suspicions grew to panic and his chest became tight.
“Loki,” Odin says with a voice too close to fondness that Loki thinks he’s delirious. “Come here.”
Loki doesn’t move from his position under the throne. Too wary he grits his teeth and says, “What mistake have I made? Has Týr failed in his training? Thor called another storm?”
Odin thins his lips and it’s the gaze that makes Loki sick and heart heavy. Disgusting. There was a want in his eye, and it made Loki want to mutilate himself for being the center of that gaze.
Odin must realize this and frowns at Loki’s clear distaste. To Loki’s relief, he waves a hand and dismisses him.
It was this incident that made Odin grow crueler, as each time Loki showed his disgust his retaliation was met with brute force, no kindness was given unless Loki did something well enough to make Odin stand higher over his pillar of lies.
“Thor,” Loki called, walking down the corridors knowing the boy was hiding from him. Or more like hiding from his father's commands.
Loki sighed. “Thor Odinson. Hiding only draws out the inevitable. Why wait and let the nerves grow?”
Thor steps out from his hiding place. Barely reaching Loki’s shoulder now in height. Eyes still their bright blue. No longer a child but not yet a man.
“He’s angry with me.”
Loki’s lip purses and he turns away from his knowing eyes. Thor leaned closer, eyes roaming over Loki’s pretty features, a blush spreads across Thor’s face when Loki speaks realizing his distraction.
“Regardless, he won’t hurt you.” He turns around and expects Thor to follow. “Come. Týr will be waiting for you afterward in the training room.”
Thor is reluctant and doesn’t move from his safe corner. Loki stops and looks back. Frown apparent.
“Thor-” Loki starts, voice low with growing frustration.
“Why must you do this?” Thor bites back, voice still pitched from youth.
Loki, stunned, doesn’t move for a moment before fully turning to face the blond.
“Why must you endure his nature? Why are you so willing to appease my father.” There’s a fit of anger there, rather poorly hidden with his glare and hands tightened to fists.
Ah, Loki thinks, he’s not as oblivious as he thought. Of course, Odin’s stares are never hidden anymore, always public with his desire to attain Loki for himself. Thor must have seen or heard something of the sort.
Thor remains where he stands. Stubborn and childish. A true boy king realizing that all he wants won’t be given to him without a price.
Loki’s mere presence calls attention in Asgard. Thor had heard too many remarks about the foreigner. How easy his skin would mark, lips that change shades of varying pinks when Loki bites them while distracted. Thor swallows, forcing himself to forget, reminding himself it was forbidden to desire a man who raised him from boyhood.
Loki glances around just to be sure that they’re alone. He’s learned never to place his trust in anyone of Asgardian blood.
Loki had covered Thor’s mouth with a gentle hand, making a shapeless zipper and throwing away the invisible key. An old way Loki would do to tell Thor and Týr not to make a sound. Eyes stare down at him with a sadness that resembles an animal cornered and lost. The simple act of vulnerability makes Thor’s skin shiver. A desire so strong to have such vulnerable eyes remain on him for all eternity, it makes him want to slaughter all who’ve seen such a look from Loki.
The clouds begin to gather around the palace walls and the faint sound of thunder makes Loki tense, hand slipping away from Thor’s lips.
“Do not start this again.” Loki says, much too quiet for a man so proud. “Questions with answers will not change reality.”
Loki stands tall again and all emotions from his eyes become dull and Thor is left to stand there, lower lip caught in his bite, he remembers the cool touch of Loki’s finger still.
“Come.” Loki says again. “The King is waiting.”
Loki is chained and beaten for Thor’s mistakes. The reasoning? Thor had missed his targets during practice this morning. Failure in Loki’s part of raising the boy to become a man. Thor is never let in the throne room when Loki is punished but he hears the abuse, remembers Loki’s shouts and Týr is there to take him away.
“Don’t let Loki know you listen.” He says. “He’ll grow angry with you.”
Thor says nothing, biting his lips raw, blood oozing from anger he’s forced to swallow down. He stares at the throne room, the closed doors that shatter all pretense of how large his father was compared to them all. His eyes are deranged, there’s rain and lightning, Thor can hardly think when Loki is trapped behind those doors when he hears his repressed shouts from the sounds of delicate skin being bruised by another- it makes him boil with rage. He’s pulled away from those doors once again before he’s forced out onto the courtyard to train.
Often, when Loki is let out of Odin’s wrath his gait is slower. Thor watches him and observes the subtlety in which Loki tries to hide his worn body, weakened from lack of freedom. He wears lighter tunics to keep the wounds from being rubbed too harshly.
It makes the men and women around him stare more. His body more pronounced by the lack of clothes. Thor narrows his gaze and finds himself disgusted by his want. Crawling through him like maggots in a corpse. He doesn’t want to be like them.
He doesn’t want to be another mere spectator to Loki’s beauty. His hands tighten over the wooden sword he held.
He looks at Loki’s bands one day and makes a mistake.
Loki frowns at him, glaring at Thor who now stands as tall as Loki but not a man. It both infuriates Thor to know that Loki still sees him as a child but also gives him comfort from the anxiety he gets knowing that Loki remains at his side because he was still not considered a man.
“These things are not jewelry nothing of the sort they’re-” He cuts himself off, turning away from Thor and his prying eyes. “Turn back to your books. I don’t want to hear you for the time being.” He gets up from his spot in the library and before Thor can even mutter an apology for his unaware slight Loki asks, “Where’s Týr?”
Thor tenses. Chest heavy with a sudden anger over hearing Loki utter another man’s name, even if said man was his brother. While Thor may never understand Loki, he understands other men. He notices the stares, the hushed whispers about the pretty man that cares for Odin’s children. The lewd remarks made whenever Loki leaves a room... the way his father’s gaze lingers for far too long than necessary.
Loki had many in waiting and it makes Thor’s hands shake with newfound anger at them all.
When Thor doesn’t answer fast enough Loki turns away, frowning even more apparent than seconds before.
“Fine. Throw your childish antics. Your silent treatment is for once welcomed.”
The library door shuts before Thor even has the chance to stand and go to Loki on his knees for forgiveness. He’s left alone and his thoughts wander back to those bracelets that haven’t faded from age.
They don’t speak of the incident again, Loki unwilling to broach the subject.
It was that night Thor had gone into the inner town with Sif and the warriors three. His schedule cleared for the evening Fandral offers to show him the nightlife. There Thor lies with a woman with green eyes and a thin body. She resembled him. And he was suffering from the sickness of greed.
Loki is weary. He often leans against the corridor’s walls and takes a breath. His hand reaches to wrap around one of the bracelets and he squeezes it. Closing his eyes and concentrating, trying to call the ice again but he senses nothing, only an emptiness which was once filled with the seidr of his homeland.
He opens his eyes. When had he seen himself as who he truly was? Without this glamour. He feels shame when he doesn’t remember his father's royal lines over his skin. He nearly slams a fist against the wall when he doesn’t remember his own eyes and what color red they used to be.
It was always Thor. That bumbling fool had always been the one to remind him of all he’s lost. He’s proof even fools know more than meets the eye.
Thor, Loki noticed, learned much like a small puppy. Unlike his older brother, Týr, who learned by explanation Thor learned by observation. And he had learned early on that the throne room was a bad place, watched as each time Loki would be taken there he would hear, and watch Loki beaten and wronged. And so, as a child, he resorted to crying and holding onto Loki when a guard would try and escort Loki there.
He’s grown and no longer does he cry, instead, Thor called storms, his emotions never hidden when Loki would be taken there. It only angered Odin, seeing his son so infatuated with Loki. A war with no enemies, Loki only wanted them to stop.
Odin, cruel and wrong would sometimes force Týr to lock Thor in his chambers when Loki was summoned. Týr obliged, brow low and mouth tightened when he grabbed Thor and dragged him away from Loki who only watched from his sentence in front of the Throne room. At times, Thor would go willingly, but more so than not Thor would need more than four men to drag him away, he’d scream, punch guards, a hand always out, trying to desperately reach Loki who never moved. Týr would grit his teeth, and stare at Loki as he would be led toward the room, uneasy with a heavy heart, Loki was still someone the boy also came to care for but he knew his father well.
Loki tried hard not to think too much of either boy. Týr was smart, smart enough to understand when to stand down for a lesser punishment while Thor...Thor was a boy Loki truly didn’t understand. He was too rash, too attached, and too emotional. Loki couldn’t understand why Thor had grown so fond of him. He’s fought with the question for so long, though it was ridiculous, the answer would change nothing.
Time passes and Loki had grown to be a man, alluring, his beauty only grew with his maturity, and it only made Loki want to hide. They allowed him to grow his hair as long as he tied it back. It both sickened and relieved him as for one, it was an Asgardian custom for a woman to have their hair tied back and hidden to maintain their “purity” but it was a Jotun custom to grow their hair as a sign of good health and freedom. He was tall and lithe, the body of a dancer they said. Green eyes like a snake, catching attention as if it were prey.
Odin grew bolder. Each touch on Loki lingered, eyes never wandering away when Loki was in the room, hands clenched as if he barely had restraint.
Nerves grew and Loki felt as if nowhere was safe, nowhere aside from the room full of pages.
He walked toward the library, a safe haven as the king never bothered to visit. Read all there was to read in there he once said.
Entering the room, he let go of his held breath and slumped down into a chair only for his sudden peace to be rudely interrupted when Thor came into view.
“Learn to announce yourself,” Loki scolded. “A prince should honor their title.”
Thor was taller than Loki now, almost a man. Upon observation Loki could see the side of his face covered in harsh red lines, hair in disarray, glancing down he raises a brow at his bare feet.
“You slept.” Loki states, clearly unsurprised.
Thor just laughs, it’s uneasy and forced something that’s new with the youngest prince. Loki stares at his flushed face and frizzy hair and wonders when the boy had become this easy to read.