Chapter Text
The war had been ripping his home apart for as long as Loki could remember. During his dam’s pregnancy, the rations had been too thin, the stress too high, and Laufey’s youngest was born a runt. Loki had spent all of his life up until now locked away like a shameful secret. With only his story books to keep him company, Loki had grown into a shy and insecure little thing. Skittish and quick to draw tears into his eyes, wanting to hide in his dam’s chest like a child.
Death and destruction sat just outside Utgard’s gates when Laufey offered up his littlest one as a sacrificial lamb to the Allfather. Odin had swept over Loki with his singular eye as if judging Loki’s soul against the weight of a feather. It was incredibly unnerving.
Odin Allfather looked quite weary from the battle, newly missing an eye, the butt of his spear lodged into Jotunhiem’s ice as he leaned against it for support. “Aye,” Odin said after a long pause, “My son, Thor, he is of age to marry. Let us draw up a treaty in the morning.” Loki swallows hard where he stands. Thor the Thunderer. He had heard tales of the Odinson from the returning warriors (what little could limp back from their confrontation). Loki had seen the raging tempests from his room (his cell, more like). The golden headed son of Asgard was to be his husband? That beast, the one who wielded the star hammer?
As soon as the heavy doors shut, Loki collapses to his knees. Instantly cries tumble from his mouth, pushed out by the swelling dread in his chest, “Please, Papa, don’t make me please, Papa, please, whatever I have done to displease-“ “Enough,” Laufey’s voice says deeply. He brings himself to his feet, trudging back to collapse onto his ice throne. Loki crawls forward, his head hung low, soft whining coming from his chest. “Quit your useless dribble,” Laufey orders sharply, groaning with pain as he sits back. Farbauti is by his side in an instant, his hands soothing over the wounds on Laufey’s face and neck- where the Allfather had almost shoved the end of his spear through Laufey’s throat. For a split second Loki wishes he had succeeded.
“At least you finally have some use,” Laufey says bitterly. He hisses when a cut on his neck heals over as Farbauti runs his hands over it. “Up until now you have been nothing but a useless waste of rations. Let that Aesir prince rape some babies into your womb and perhaps you will finally be of service to your realm,” his father says. Loki cannot look him in the eye, on his hands and knees, his posture begging for mercy. But just as Loki had done many times before there was none to be found. He doesn’t say anything more as he stares down at the floor. “You are dismissed,” Laufey says tiredly, “Go do whatever it is that keeps you out of my sight, runt.”
Loki scrambles to his feet and walks as quickly as he can back to his chambers. Servants sidestep him, looking down at him with pity or disdain. His bedroom is a welcome relief when Loki finally manages to shakily undo the lock on the door. It was more to keep him inside than it was to keep others out.
He is messily packing a few things when the door creaks open. Loki doesn’t look, knowing who it is. Farbauti enters into his little one’s room. “Oh, my Loki,” Farbauti says sadly, “Shh, come here. Let me hold you, my frost flower.” Loki wipes his wet eyes with the palms of his heels, wanting to deny Farbauti this. Something in his dam’s voice always disarms Loki. Turning, Loki sobs out loudly once before holding onto his dam tightly. Farbauti hugs him back, sitting down on the edge of his bed to rock Loki gently. “I know you’re scared,” Farbauti says gently, “I know. Sometimes…sometimes we must do what is right for our people, even if it’s not what we want.”
It’s then that Loki realizes his own dam would not stand up for him. Farbauti is just softening the blow. The fear he carries for Laufey outweighs the affection for the youngest prince. The deep, rumbling purrs in Farbauti’s chest that once soothed Loki do nothing this time around. Loki turns his face into Farbauti’s chest, his eyes clenched shut as he sobs.
Protocol demanded Loki’s presence at the war table the next morning. He was exhausted from a night tossing and turning. Nightmares of the star hammer bashing through his skull, nightmares of Laufey dangling him over the precipice of a cliff and letting go. Loki’s head stays lowered, looking down at his folded hands in his lap. His sire and the Allfather are discussing back and forth in Asgardian. Loki picks up bits and pieces. Babies and dowry and marriage. He thinks Laufey is bartering Loki’s womb in exchange for the Casket of Ancient Winters.
Loki barely holds back the bitter laugh that creeps up his throat. As if he was worth just as much as his people’s holy relic. No, he was barely worth more than the dirt under Laufey’s nails. His sire had made sure to remind him of that. His ruby eyes dare to flicker upwards to glance at the Odinson that sits across the table. A startle runs down Loki’s spine when he sees that the thunderer is already staring at him.
Thor is handsome, Loki thinks. Despite his strange pink skin and the growths of hair on his face. His eyes are the same electric blue as the lightning he commands. The Odinson is maybe a century or two older than Loki, also born during the beginnings of the war. Loki’s face flushes a deep purple as he blushes.
Thor does something strange with the quirk of his mouth, the corners turning upwards and baring his teeth. Is it a threat? A reminder of Loki to stay in his place, surely. Loki bites down on his lip and goes back to staring at his lap.
The meeting ends with a handshake between the Allfather and Laufey. Loki’s fate sealed as his sire etched his name into a long paper scroll. Tears collect in his eyes and Loki watches helplessly as they fall onto his folded hands.
Loki is allowed to pack whatever his arms can carry. He’s assured that Asgard will supply him with an entire new wardrobe. Erasing his culture, forcing him to fit into their own beauty standards. The only things Loki really packs into his satchel are a few of his favorite story books and a small book full of paintings of Jotunhiem’s scenery. If he were to be on Asgard for the foreseeable future he did not want to forget the loveliness of his home.
He walks through the halls of Utgard for the last time. Perhaps he should be conjuring up happy memories to reminisce on but there really are none to be thought of. He can only recall how he’s tried (and failed) to gain his sire’s favor. How his elder siblings would bully him. How his dam would take Laufey’s side and try to gently explain to Loki “You just shouldn’t provoke him so, frost flower. Come, let me put some ice on that eye of yours.” Maybe…maybe being on Asgard won’t be so bad. It can’t be as awful as it is here. But here is home. Though the towering walls of Utgard were a prison, it was a familiar one. Loki knew how to cope with the isolation and hatred. Asgard was unknown.
The unknown was terrifying.
Laufey, of course, sheds no tears for his littlest child. Farbauti nuzzles all over Loki’s face, holding the little one close to his chest, “Just be good. You can do this. Don’t you know why I’ve called you my frost flower all your life, my little one?” Loki’s throat closes up and he shakes his head to avoid his voice wobbling. “Many have tried to keep them but they always wilt. Frost flowers require delicate care but once they bloom they are beautiful,” Farbauti says, cupping Loki’s face in his hands, “You are just as resilient and lovely as a whole bundle of frost flowers. I love you, my little one, I love you.”
Farbauti steps back, wiping his eyes profusely as Laufey stands. His sire barely gives Loki a once over, “The Aesir are brutes. The thunderer will not take no for an answer. Lie still and let him mount you without trouble. If you embarrass me in this, Loki, if you fail…” Laufey trails off, snarling to show his cracked and crooked teeth, “You think you hate your life now, runt. You will long for this life when I am done with you.”
Loki nods quickly, his head hanging down, refusing to meet Laufey’s eyes. Logically, Loki knows as Thor’s spouse and a future ruler of Asgard, Laufey’s threats should do nothing. But the thought of…of displeasing Thor, of being sent back here. To face the wrath of his sire. Suddenly Loki feels very small- smaller than usual- and wishes he was little enough to hide under his bed again. “Yes, sire, I will not disappoint you,” Loki says, though his voice wobbles. Laufey snorts bitterly and slumps back down on his throne, “Dismissed, runt.”
The heavy doors of Utgard open and Loki squints as the twilight sun of Jotunhiem shines in his face. The Aesir are waiting just outside, upon strange hooves animals that reek. The Allfather rides first, saying something in Asgardian that Loki can’t translate. This far away from the Bifrost and from their home the Allspeak must not work very well. Loki just gives a blank few blinks. Odin must not be expecting any response for he doesn’t seem too upset. The Allfather also does that weird thing with his mouth, baring his teeth to Loki and motioning for Thor to come closer.
Loki’s eyes blink several times before looking up at Thor through his eyelashes. The Odinson sits regally atop his beast, holding the reins with one hand as he speaks. He is just as bundled up as the Allfather, dressed in thick animal furs and a heavy cloak. His voice is a deep baritone that makes Loki’s chest vibrate as he talks. Thor extends his hand to Loki, beckoning him forth. Loki’s feet step forward clumsily before he can debate on it.
A yelp leaves Loki’s lips as he’s hoisted up as if he weighs nothing at all. Thor makes room in the saddle and deposits Loki directly in front of him. Loki’s legs squeeze around the beast’s midsection much too tightly, making the animal huff, and his hands immediately grip the horn of the saddle in a desperate way to hold on. He hears Thor laugh from behind him, the Asgardan Prince’s chest pressed against his back. Thor squeezes his thigh with one big hand, saying gruffly, “Relax. Relax.” It’s one of the words Loki does know in Asgardian and Loki forces himself to unclench.
“What…name of…animal,” Loki murmurs, struggling to piece together what little of the Aesir language he knows. “Is for…eating,” Loki asks. Thor laughs again, his big arm coming around Loki to hold him tightly. “No, not for eating. Companion. Horse,” Thor says back to him. Loki’s mouth opens and tries out the foreign syllables on his tongue. “Horrrssss,” Loki attempts, his nose wrinkling at how strange the word sounds coming from his lips.
He hears Thor click his tongue and Loki yelps again as the animal moves forward. Thor’s chin comes just over his shoulder, murmuring into Loki’s ear as the convoy starts to move towards the Bifrost site, “I won’t let you fall.” Loki wants to believe him. He looks down to see where Thor’s strong arm is around his midsection, helping keep Loki upright. Thor lets go of the reigns entirely, the “horse” following behind the Allfather’s. Loki squeals as Thor’s big hands settle on his hips. He says more words in Asgardian but helps Loki adjust his body to sit in the saddle more comfortably.
Before long, Loki has figured out how to settle. He leans back, his head against Thor’s shoulder, exhausted from the night spent awake in anxiety. Thor’s scent is masculine and somewhat comforting, if a little alien. Loki’s ruby eyes flutter, his eyelids feeling heavy. As much as Loki wants to sleep, he also wants to memorize every piece of his home as the horse trots. Every tree, every rock, every snowflake. Loki thinks back to the book of paintings safely in his satchel as he succumbs to his sleepiness. Paintings would never compare to the raw beauty of his realm. Thor’s arm around his body feels solid and strong, warm against Loki’s blue skin. The rocking of the horse’s movements lull Loki deeper into sleep.
It’s the jolting of the horse coming to a stop that makes Loki’s eyes flutter open. Thor is still holding him upright, Loki’s head resting against the Odinson’s shoulder. His face turns to nuzzle into the soft furs of his betrothed’s cloak. It smells like warm honeyed treats and the sunlight of Asgard. Maybe it won’t be so bad, Loki tells himself again. His ruby eyes blink a few times to adjust as he wakes up. The Allfather is organizing the return trip, batches of soldiers being sent back to Asgard. Loki flinches inwardly at every scorched mark left on his homeland’s icy tundras. It would take eons for the scars of the Bifrost to heal over.
Loki blinks a few times, hearing Thor speak into his ear. It must be the prince’s turn to return home. Loki’s fingers grip the horn of the saddle for balance as Thor ushers his horse forward. “Relax,” Thor says again into his ear, making sure to hold Loki tightly, “Quick. Hold tightly. Relax.” Loki looks up into the twilight sky, his eyes fluttering closed.
Like Thor had said, the Bifrost travel was near instant. Loki felt the pulling of being lifted- more like tossed- between the realms. The feeling of the air whipping against his face, sucking the breath from his lungs, the roaring of the rainbow bridge in his ears is overwhelming. But as soon as Loki could dwell on how awful it felt, it was over.
Loki slumps forward, both hands covering his mouth. Asgard is hot and humid, the heavy atmosphere pressing against Loki’s chest as he struggles to right himself. It’s all too much, too fast, nausea and dizziness churning in Loki’s body. Thor quickly dismounts his horse, murmuring, “Easy, easy, I have you.” The Allspeak makes Loki’s ears ring. It hurts. Everything moved too quickly and before Loki can stop it he feels his meager breakfast coming back up. Thor helps him off the horse, helps him bend over the edge of the rainbow bridge, holding Loki’s raven hair back and shushing him gently as Loki retches. Fish bones and stale bread come back up from Loki’s stomach in horrific, body convulsing gags. Tears stream down his cheeks. His throat burns with acid.
“I know the first time is always the worst,” Thor tries to comfort him, helping Loki stand back up. He uses his big palm to wipe Loki’s chin, his other hand hot and heavy on the back of Loki’s neck. “Better,” Thor asks, his thumb caressing Loki’s jawline. Loki sniffles and nods. His bottom is sore from the traveling so far but he doesn’t protest when Thor hoists him back into the saddle.
The ride down the rainbow bridge and into Asgard isn’t so bad. Loki is too distracted by the golden splendor and sunlight of the Realm Eternal. Even though his Jotunn eyes struggle to adjust to the brightness Loki stares openly at the blue sky.
Asgard is… beautiful. Lush, thick greenery that Loki has never seen before. “Pretty,” Loki says, reaching up to touch a flowering tree as the horse trots by. The pink petals are soft and velvety against Loki’s fingertips. “Yes, quite,” Thor murmurs back to him, although his blue eyes aren’t fixed on the blooming flowers but rather the awestruck expression on Loki’s face.
The Asgardian people quickly crowd around the convoy, cheering in celebration at the return of their golden haired prince. Loki shrinks to try and make himself as small as possible, his ears ringing with the loudness of the crowd. Thankfully, Thor seems eager to return to his home, as he quickly ushers his horse into a gallop to get back to the grand palace.
“This is Valaskjalf,” Thor explains to Loki as the horse comes to a stop. He dismounts and then helps Loki down. Loki’s legs wobble a little but a hand on his lower back helps him steady. The Odinson’s skin is so hot on top of his. “I’m afraid we must go our separate ways now,” Thor says with a soft sigh, “It’s tradition for us to not see each other again until the marriage ceremony.” Thor pauses, a little awkward, before his hand travels to gently curl around Loki’s. He brings Loki’s knuckles to his lips, kissing the delicate blue skin and murmuring, “Until then, Loki.” Loki blinks owlishly then nods his head, curing his hand back close to his chest when Thor bows and walks away. He clutches his satchel tighter to his body and bites his tongue. A feeling of dread curls in his stomach.
Loki is herded through the crowded halls of the palace by two women servants. At least, he thinks these are the females of the Aesir race. They have long hair like Loki’s, breasts, and are built slimmer and shorter than Thor was. But then again, it seemed Thor was exceptionally tall and muscular amongst his own kind. Loki kept his eyes downcast, his fingers holding onto the strap of his satchel tightly. They’re speaking amongst each other in the Aesir language, occasionally looking at Loki before giggling and looking away. Though he doesn’t understand what they’re saying, he’s been picked on enough to understand when it’s happening.
They usher him into a room and make quick work of his loin cloth and throw it aside. Loki knows they are making fun of his misshaped, stunted body. Naked and with tears in his eyes, Loki stands still as the servant girls take his measurements for his wedding attire in the morning. When it’s finally over, Loki is given a silken night robe to dress in and left alone.
He curls up in the bed, unable to sleep, running his fingers over the paintings in the book. Imagining the snowfall in his home, imagining sitting in his dam’s lap and helping Farbauti weave baskets. But when Loki’s eyes open, he is all alone. Alone in a strange realm, with strange pink skinned beings and a strange language he cannot understand. Loki buries his face in the pillow and lets sobs wreck his body to exhaustion.
Morning does not bring any repose. The air is still too humid and Loki groans as he realizes he has sweat through the sheets. The same servants from the night before enter, ushering Loki out of bed and to the adjoined bath chamber. Everything is dipped in gold in Asgard to show off the realm’s splendor. The bath is way too hot, Loki can see the steam rising from the water. But he doesn’t get much of a choice as his night robe is ripped from his body and he’s pushed in.
The hot air rising from the bath water suffocates him. Loki desperately gulps in air, dizzy with the heat, his fingers scrambling to hold onto the edge of the in ground tub. His entire body lights up with boiling pain, like he’s being cooked alive. He scrambles his brain for any Asgardian words he can use to try and protest. “Hot,” Loki says in a panic, thrashing in the water, “Hot! Hot!”
The maid tugs on his hair, laughing as she dunks his head under the water. Loki’s lungs automatically inhale, breathing in the bath water. When he comes up, he sputters, gagging as he desperately tries to clear his lungs. It’s suffocating. Loki blinks his eyes several times, feeling light headed and dizzy.
“That’s enough,” a voice rings out from the entrance to the doorway. Loki slumps against the edge of the bath, vomiting up small mouthfuls of water. Loki’s eyes blearily open to stare at who enters.
The aura of the Allmother does something to Loki’s body, forcing it to relax. She’s scolding the girls, Loki can tell by the tone in her voice, even if he can’t understand it.
The Allmother hurries closer. Her hand pushes some of Loki’s hair out of his face while the other dips into the water. The temperature drops instantly and Loki sobs with relief. “I’ll have to find a glamour spell to help you,” Frigga Allmother says gently. It takes Loki a second to realize that he can understand her. She’s speaking his language. She’s speaking his language.
“Mother,” Loki sobs, “Mama. Mama, please.” Though he has a million things he wants to say, the only thing that comes out is pathetic sobs. Frigga’s face is so sad when she looks at him, helping Loki sit back up and settle in the bath. “I know you’re scared,” Frigga murmurs sympathetically, “I was in your place once, as well. All alone in a strange realm, betrothed to a man I had never met.” Her hands are gentle as they lather soap into Loki’s raven hair, carefully avoiding his sensitive horns, “I hope I have raised Thor well. He is a good boy, if a little…thick in the head. He means well. His honor is very important to him.”
“I miss my home,” Loki whispers, looking down when Frigga tilts his head. She pauses her fingers in his hair then says with a sad tinge in her voice, “This is your home now, Loki. It’s best you start thinking that way now.”
He robotically lets Frigga wash him, lifting his arms and legs when she asks him to. The relief from the cold water is short-lived as the bath ends and Frigga helps him out of the tub. Being naked in front of her feels as natural as being bare in front of his own dam and Loki doesn’t have that curdling in his tummy as he’s dried off.
“I’m so sorry,” Frigga murmurs to him as she towels off his hair, “This will be quick, alright? I want you to lay back and relax.” Loki’s heart pounds in his chest, freezing up as he whines, “What…I-I thought the bedding ceremony wasn’t until after the marriage?” Frigga shakes her head, leading Loki back into the bedroom and towards the bed, “No, little one, I must ensure your maidenhead is intact.” Another humiliating ritual, Loki realizes, his shoulders slumping. He should be used to this feeling by now, as his entire life thus far has been nothing but a series of embarrassing scenes. “It’ll be very quick,” Frigga assured him, “And it won’t hurt. I had to go through it as well, and the one who checked me was very unkind.”
Loki stiffly sits on the edge of the bed, parting his thighs. He squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling and holding it tightly in his lungs. Frigga’s fingers are slick with a bit of oil to make it easier and Loki bites back a hiss as he feels her digits poking around his sex. Two fingers insert into his vagina and Loki chokes out a sob. He has never felt so exposed and violated. “Mama,” Loki hiccups out, tears filling his eyes and spilling out down his cheeks. Frigga was right- she only barely entered two fingers to touch Loki’s hymen before quickly taking them out. The ordeal likely only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. “All done,” she says quickly, trying to soothe Loki despite his sobbing, “All done, see? Quickly, just like I promised.”
He feels himself nod. She gives him one of those weird mouth quirks and pats his cheek, “Thor will be good to you. I promise, Loki. He’s a good man. You need not fear him.” Loki’s eyes flicker up to her before back down. He nods wordlessly. He just wants this to be over.
Loki knows he wholly disassociates during the process of getting ready. He is squeezed into a corset, his hair is brushed and braided. He sits still and doesn’t cause trouble, staring vacantly into the mirror of the vanity he sits at. He feels as if pieces of his culture are being plucked away, replaced with alien Aesir customs. The dress he is forced into wearing is heavy and it feels strange to have fabric covering his midsection and chest. Suffocating. Binding. The corset limits his breathing, cinches his waist to try and show off the curve of his hips. A veil is placed behind his horns and Loki hisses when the tailor bumps the sensitive appendages. It’s nearly as long as the white dress itself with the front of it covering Loki’s face.
Frigga enters again when the ladies are done prodding Loki. They had removed all his golden jewelry signaling him as a Prince of Jotunhiem. The hoops in his pointed ears, gone. The rings and golden arm bands. Gone. Loki stares at himself blankly in the large mirror, hardly recognizing the face that stares back at him.
“Come, a bride shouldn’t look so sad on her wedding day,” Frigga murmurs to him, reaching up to adjust the pins that hold Loki’s veil in place, “Give us a smile, hm?” When Loki gives her a confused little look, Frigga upturns her mouth and shows her teeth. Oh, before, Thor was smiling at him. Loki tries his best to copy her, showing his teeth but forgetting to make his lips turn. Frigga gives him a grimace as says hurriedly, “Ah, we’ll work on it. Come, Loki, your husband is waiting for you.”
The Asgardian people seem to love any excuse to party. The entirety of Valaskjalf is packed, the roar of the crowd making Loki’s ears ring and his head hurt. Everything happened between slow blinks of Loki’s ruby eyes, like a slideshow of horror. Someone puts a bouquet of bright flowers in his trembling hands. A hand on his back, the Allmother murmuring for Loki to move. At the end of the parted crowd stands Thor, in his battle armor. His winged helmet, his blood red cape, the star hammer hanging off of his belt. Loki numbly steps down the aisle.
He walks up the small steps to stand beside Thor. Thor gives him a smile. Loki tries to smile back, his ruby eyes flicking to Frigga who gives him a small thumbs up. “You look beautiful, Loki,” Thor whispers to him. Though the Allspeak makes Loki wince, the words are a nice sentiment. Beautiful…Loki had never considered that word would be used to describe him. “Thank you,” Loki murmurs back.
The ceremony goes through quickly. Loki doesn’t understand the words said by the Allfather, who looks at Loki with one one eye with a pitying look on his face. When Thor holds his hand out, Loki stares at it blankly until Thor whispers for Loki to take it. A warm, golden rope is tied over their intertwined hands, glowing brightly with a pleasant feeling as it dissolves into their skin and binds their souls as one. The Allfather announces something in Asgardian, banging the bottom of Gungnir against the ground once. Thor’s hands are steady as they lift Loki’s veil. Those eyes are so blue, like the ice on his homeland. Loki is too focused on staring at the mural of the Royal Family on the ceiling to notice Thor’s face coming closer to his. He jolts when he feels Thor’s mouth upon his lips, a weird feeling curling in his stomach as Thor then very quickly retracts. What in the Hel was that? Why would one want to press their mouths together?
Loki didn’t get much time to think about another strange Aesir custom before he was swept off his feet by Thor’s strong arms. “Throw the flowers,” Thor whispers in his ear. Loki forces his eyes to focus, to where a young group of ladies are all clambering over each other and reaching out to catch it. Loki squeezes his eyes shut and tosses the flowers over his shoulder, knowing they must’ve hit someone as he hears one of the girls cheer.
“Do you know a simple waltz,” Thor asks, his voice rumbling in Loki’s ears. It takes Loki a moment to nod as he is set down again. There is a circle of people around them and must be expecting them to dance. Thor gives a little blush, his pink cheeks flushing red, as he mumbles, “I’m a better warrior than dancer. But I think I can stumble my way through this.” Loki places his hand on Thor’s shoulder, exhaling when he feels his new husband settle his arm around Loki’s lower back. Though Jotunn dances were more…fluid, with undulating hips and rolls of the body, Loki had taught himself a waltz after reading it in an old translated story book.
Thor is indeed a better fighter than dancer. It seems the grace he has on the battlefield, throwing Mjolnir around, does not translate to the way his feet almost step on Loki’s a few times. Despite the circumstances, somehow, Loki cannot find himself to hate the Odinson. Thor looks just as awkward as Loki feels, his cheeks flushed red, avoiding Loki’s eye contact. He’s just as much of a victim in this as Loki is- young and under his father’s command. “Do you really think I’m pretty,” Loki asks as Thor turns him. The Asgardian stutters a bit then nods. Thor’s face is too open and honest to hide a lie. Loki still doesn’t believe him.
After the dance, Loki lets himself be tugged to the banquet table. Thor pulls out his chair for him, ushers Loki to sit. The Asgardian food is far too seasoned, cheeses and wines and rich meats that sit heavy in Loki’s stomach. He picks at his plate, pushing around the bits of roasted goat leg. The potatoes on the side had somewhat agreed with Loki’s palate. But even if the dinner tasted well, Loki couldn’t find himself having any appetite. His new husband didn’t seem to share the same issue, shoving his face and downing his goblet of mead. He is talking to someone that sits next to him, another handsome Aesir that Loki recognized from the covey on Jotunhiem.
He tuned out most of the Aesir words- Loki couldn’t understand them, anyways. In one ear and out the other as Loki picked into the dark meat with his fingers, peeling the tender morsels from the bone. Underneath the heavily salted skin, it wasn’t so bad, and Loki nibbled on the small piece as his eyes flickered upwards. The man looking at him from across the table must be high ranking, if his golden jewelry held the same weight as it did on his homeland. He was very obviously inebriated, by the way he slumped forward and missed his mouth when he held his goblet up for another sip.
“Poor Prince Thor,” the man says, using the Allspeak just so Loki can hear, “Having to marry one of those blue skinned sluts. Probably already opened up by its own father- everyone knows Jotunn fuck their young. Savages. S’ like rutting with an animal. Disgusting.” A glob of spittle lands on Loki’s cheekbone and he hurriedly wipes it away. Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes quickly going back to his plate. It was his body’s immediate response to freeze up, to agree, to let the bad happen and roll with the hits in hopes of whoever is hurting him loses interest. The entire table goes into a tense silence.
The sound of Mjolnir buzzing through the air makes Loki’s hair stand on end. He can sense the aura within the star hammer, the tempest trapped in the uru, the channeling of Thor’s weather magic. Loki flinches hard as the handle makes contact with Thor’s palm.
This is it, Loki tells himself. Thor is going to bash his skull in, like he has killed throes of Loki’s people on the battlefield.
But the heavy blow never comes.
Loki hesitantly looks up, seeing that Thor has stood and is pointing the head of his hammer towards the man in a very clear threat. Any jovial tone in Thor’s voice is gone, replaced with authority and anger, “Loki is my wife and your future Queen. I will not tolerate disrespect, lest you be stripped of your title, your wealth, and your lands!”
Did Thor…Was Loki just…He stays in his seat, watching Mjolnir in Thor’s hand as his husband sits back down. Even though the confrontation is over and everyone is back to enjoying themselves, Loki’s heart is still pounding within his chest. “I’m sorry,” Thor says to him, huffing as he sets Mjolnir on the table and digs back into his food, “Some are not as receptive to the treaty as we’d like. They will learn to accept you.” Loki gives a nod in acknowledgement. Thor just…stood up for him. Defended him. Loki shyly reaches under the table, finding Thor’s hand and hesitantly touching their fingertips together. “Thank you,” Loki murmurs, quickly retracting his hand and folding it back in his lap. Thor looks confused for a moment but says back, “Of course, Loki.”
Frigga asks Loki to dance with her, which is something Loki reluctantly calls fun. She smiles with him and laughs when Loki bares his teeth as he tries to smile back. But her laughing doesn’t cut deep or humiliate him, if anything it makes Loki want to join in. “I want Asgard to be your home, Loki,” Frigga says to him as the dance ends, her gentle hands cupping his face, “We all want you to be happy here. You are part of our family now. If there’s anything, please, let me or someone know.”
Her lips quickly peck between Loki’s horns, an affectionate gesture. Before Loki can retreat to the comfort of his own bubble at the banquet table, he hears the Allfather’s voice, “Will you indulge this old goat in a dance, Loki?”
Loki straightens up, cold dread dripping down his spine. He’s sweating already, from the heat and the heaviness of his dress. Loki looks to Thor, seeing that Frigga is in Loki’s seat and fussing over one of Thor’s braids.
“Of course, Allfather,” Loki says stiffly, bowing shallowly before extending his hand for Odin to take. Fathers are cruel, abrasive, terrifying figures. Odin loosely holds Loki, his hand on Loki’s middle back with a respectful distance. Loki goes through the motions of the dance without thinking about it, looking down at his reflection in Odin’s ceremonial armor.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” Odin says, his voice quiet, “No more than you fear your own father.”
When Loki’s terror stricken expression doesn’t change, Odin sighs.
“Why did you accept the terms of the surrender,” Loki finds himself saying, the words tumbling out of his mouth without thinking of it. Odin doesn’t sneer at him or strike him for speaking out of turn, just guides Loki through the steps, “I wanted to end the war. I am so weary of death, Loki.” The music swells before fading out, everyone around them clapping as the dance ends. Odin bows before standing back up. Bows before him! Loki is silent as Odin leads him back to the banquet table.
“You will make for a fine Queen and compliment Thor’s tempests,” Odin says further, “I sensed Laufey did not…treat you well.”
Loki’s brow furrows and he protests, “You have never met me. I doubt you even knew I existed before my sire sacrificed me.”
Odin’s mouth quirks in a smile as he holds out his goblet to be refilled with wine. “I know I look young and spry, but I think myself wise,” he says with a laugh, “The Well of Mimir has revealed much to me. I may be the realm’s Allfather, but now I am also your father, Loki. And you will be as equal in my eye as Thor.”
Between the dancing, the strange foods, and watching Thor interact with his people, Loki had almost forgotten.
He is very cruelly reminded when Thor takes his hand and leads him to one of the rooms that branches off the main hall. There is a bed in the middle, surrounded by a white sheet. A collection of old men sit in chairs around the bed, with the Allmother and the Allfather sitting at the base. They don’t look back at Loki when he stares at them. Loki’s heart pounds, fear and dread curdling in his stomach and making him feel sick. He digs his heels into the ground for a moment before Laufey’s threat hangs over his head. “I’m sorry,” Thor whispers. Loki’s heard that phrase more today than he has his entire life thus far. “Normally this-this doesn’t happen,” Thor tries to explain, “But, uhm, since this is an…important marriage, I guess. I’m sorry.”
Loki stumbles along. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone in the room, although he feels their stares on his skin. It makes his face flush purple with shame. Thor opens the sheet, letting Loki sit on the edge of the bed. His hands quickly undo the corset strings and strip Loki of his wedding dress, leaving Loki in the lacy white panties and stockings. Thor’s own armor comes off with a few buckled straps and are whisked away by some unseen servant.
The sheet closes as Thor helps Loki lay back. “I’m sorry,” Thor says again, as if it would fix what was happening, “T-Try to focus just on me. No one else. Just- look at me.” Loki’s ruby eyes crack open, looking up at Thor as the Odinson hovers over him. His blonde hair hangs down, his eyes are red rimmed and wet around the edges, the trepidation obvious in his expression. But he’s trying to be strong, Loki can see the grim line to Thor’s face.
“Let’s just- let’s just start with a kiss,” Thor says, leaning down. That strange thing happens again where Thor presses his mouth to Loki’s, moving it in hopes for Loki to respond, maybe. It only takes a few awkward seconds before Thor seems to realize it’s not happening. “Do you not understand,” Thor asks in a low whisper. Loki shakes his head, “I have never…what is this kiss you speak of?” Thor grimaces again, shaking his head, “I’ll teach you later. Not here. I’ll, uhm, get this over with.”
Loki lies still, frozen in place. He feels Thor’s warm mouth across his collarbones, tracing the raised kynlines across Loki’s cobalt skin. When Thor got down to his panties, he slid them off of Loki’s thighs with shaking hands. Loki’s breathing picks up, his chest rising and falling rapidly in panicked little whimpers. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Thor tried to soothe him, pressing kisses against Loki’s inner thigh. A strange, warm feeling settled in the lower parts of Loki’s tummy. Thor’s mouth on him would feel good, if not for…
Someone coughed from beyond the sheet. Loki bit the inside of his cheek harder.
He felt bed shifting, Thor sitting up to push down his underclothes enough to free his own sex. Loki dared to look down. Thor was completely soft but still even impressive in his size. “I’m sorry,” Thor apologized again. He squeezed his eyes shut, probably thinking of some pretty and soft maiden as he worked his length with his hand. Of course Thor would have to make himself aroused.
Loki’s body is ugly. Stunted. Misshaped. When Thor reaches beside Loki’s head to grab the glass jar of oil, it all really sinks in. This is happening.
A sob finally wretches from Loki’s throat when he feels Thor’s oil slicked fingers prod around his genitals. Thor skips over the small, soft penis and little testes, instead rubbing the oil between Loki’s labia lips.
Be still. Be still. Be still. Loki’s thighs are shaking. He knows. He stares up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and wet with tears.
“Do you, uhm, want me to do it quickly or just- go slow,” Thor asks him. Loki blinks his sad ruby eyes, swallowing hard. He doesn’t answer so Thor decides for him. When Loki feels the press of Thor’s cock against his vagina, Loki sobs again. He’s so tense that Thor can’t enter. “Please, you have to relax,” Thor says, trying again only to not be able to, “Loki, you have to relax. Take a big breath in and push out. It’ll help.”
Loki follows Thor’s advice, inhaling until his chest feels like it’s going to burst. He holds it for a second, then exhales.
And Thor thrusts in.
Pain immediately shoots up Loki’s spine. He wails loudly, kicking his feet and clawing at the bedsheets as his back arches at a harsh angle. It feels like he’s being split in two. Sawed in half. Loki sobs loudly when he loses control of his bladder, urine leaking from his soft cock and onto his tummy in his fear and confusion. Thor says some Asgardian curses, his brow furrowed as his hips jerk.
“Tight,” Thor hisses between clenched teeth, “Norns, Loki, please. Please. You have to unclench. I can’t move. I know I’m big and this is new and scary for you, I promise I’ll be gentle if you just- just relax. Please, please.” Loki can’t really comprehend anything Thor says, the Asgardian’s words sounding like Loki was underneath the too hot bath water again.
Blood and the oil from earlier seems to ease the way as Loki forces himself to relax. He can smell the coppery tingle of his torn maidenhead. Thor is moving his hips in robotic, quick thrusts, jolting Loki’s body up the bed a little with each connection of their bodies. “It’s almost over,” Thor says with a huff. Loki sobs back, laying still underneath him. Thor bites his bottom lip before Loki flinches hard when Thor’s fingers touch him again. Thor seems to find what he is looking for as his thumb brushes over some sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of Loki’s slit.
“There it is. See? I-I can make it good for you, so it doesn’t feel so-so awful,” Thor pants. Loki just nods dumbly. His stomach sort of cramps, a weird feeling in his tummy as Thor keeps touching him. There’s a strangeness that overcomes Loki’s body, like he has to relieve himself. “Unngh,” is the only sound Loki can make as the pressure increases and he feels something spasm in his sex. Thor sighs with relief.
His vaginal canal seems to slicken considerably on its own and Thor keeps rutting into him. It’s so hot, Thor’s body is so sweaty on top of his. Loki gasps for air between sobs, shaking his head back and forth, feeling how soaked the pillow beneath him is with tears.
Thor’s eyes squeeze shut, his body tensing up as his hips jerk and his erection sheathes itself to the hilt. Loki hides his face in his hands, his cries muffled into his palms when he feels warmth flood his body. Thor doesn’t make a sound as he immediately rolls off of Loki.
Loki hears the sheet being pulled back by the curtain rod. Before he can react, Thor is snapping his thighs shut for him and covering up Loki’s nakedness with his own body.
“Sire, I have to check-“
”My wife has been through enough,” Thor shouts back. A clap of thunder echoes in the room, lighting flashing outside enough to illuminate the scene for a brief moment. “Take your damned bloodied quilt and leave us,” Thor snarls through clenched teeth. He turns to Loki, easing Loki to lift his hips to grab the quilt that Loki was lying on. Loki’s eyes blink open enough to see the bright bloody streaks on it, signaling his lost innocence. The tears come back, running down his temples and into his hair.
The sheets close again, leaving them alone. Loki hears some declaration, a few scant claps as feet shuffle out. Thor sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched forward, his head in his palms. “That was…the most disgusting thing I have ever had to do,” Thor says with a heavy heart. His voice cracks, like he’s crying.
Disgusting because you had to lay with a blue skinned slut, Loki thinks bitterly, wiping his watery eyes with his hands. After making sure they are completely alone, Thor sits up and looks back at Loki. The look on his face suggests there’s a hundred things he wants to say, but Thor just settles on a broken apology, his own cheeks wet with shameful tears.
Loki flinches as he sits up but lets Thor wrap his naked body in a sheet. Thor redresses himself in his underclothes, his hands awkwardly hovering around Loki’s body before settling on carrying Loki close to his chest. Thor smells nice, like sandalwood and salty sea air. Loki presses his face into Thor’s shoulder, not caring how hot the Asgardian skin feels against his cheek, and lets his eyes flutter shut.
“Do you think we did the right thing,” Frigga frets, her hands worriedly going through her library of tomes, looking for a glamour spell. Odin sits on his side of the bed, trading out his eyepatch for a more comfortable cotton one. “You heard the way Loki…during the bedding,” she says, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. She suppresses a shudder. “Yes, I do,” Odin says back as he leans over to adjust the torchlight on his bedside table.
“It’s just, Loki, that poor little child,” Frigga murmurs sadly. She finally finds the book she’s looking for, skimming the table of contents. Odin stands, then, walking over to his wife. He gently takes the book from her hands, holding them tightly in his own. He kisses her knuckles, trying to ease her anxieties. “Our marriage was arranged, as well, my love. And we are fine,” Odin soothes, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands. Frigga’s shoulders slump, “Yes but our realms were not at war. Our union was our parents playing matchmaker. And we were not forced into a public bedding…”
“Their union ended the war. I fought the council as hard as I could to avoid it but it was too important to ensure a child was conceived,” Odin murmurs, “Loki will be good for Thor and in turn Thor will be good for him.”
Frigga doesn’t seem convinced, her eyes looking down to their intertwined hands, “We took that child from his home and forced him here.”
Odin pauses. Frigga had not seen the way Laufey bartered Loki like a pawn, how Laufey had originally promised Loki as a virginal little concubine to the Allfather before Odin had rejected the offer and instead had Loki marry Thor. “Laufey would have given Loki to the first old sex pest with a pocket full of gold, my love,” Odin soothes her, “Loki is safest with us, on Asgard. I promise you. We just have to make sure Loki knows he is accepted and loved. I know you have always wanted another child and I know you also felt the pull of seidr within Loki.”
“Perhaps if I could’ve borne another-“
“That’s enough,” Odin admonishes gently, already knowing where she was headed, “I nearly lost you during Thor’s birth. I will not risk your life to ensure the lineage. The next King will be born from Loki’s womb, I am sure. Now, come to bed. My head is pounding from too much wine.”