Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/976210.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/
      Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Gen, F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies), The_Avengers_(Marvel)_-_All_Media_Types, Captain_America_
      (Movies), Captain_America_-_All_Media_Types, Thor_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor_(Marvel), Loki/Steve_Rogers, Loki/Odin_(Marvel), Various/
      Undecided
  Character:
      Loki_(Marvel), Thor_(Marvel), Steve_Rogers, Captain_America_-_Character,
      Sigyn, Sif, Odin, Heimdall, Fandral_(Marvel), Warriors_Three, Byleistr_
      (Marvel), Helbindi, Volstagg_(Marvel), Laufey_(Marvel), Frigga_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Alternate_Universe, Alternate
      Universe_-_Arranged_Marriage, Forced_Marriage, Arranged_Marriage, Dubious
      Consent, Male-Female_Friendship, Cults, References_to_Norse_Religion_&
      Lore, sort_of_since_this_is_a_fake_ass_religion, False_Prophets, Domestic
      Violence, Polygamy
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-22 Chapters: 1/? Words: 3684
****** In The Halls of the Gods ******
by Fann_(Fan_Nehan_Shinzui34)
Summary
     If marriage to the High Prophet was the utmost honor, becoming one of
     his prized concubines was a close second. Unfortunately for Loki,
     being a prize for the gods isn't what he was taught it would be.
Notes
     "Marriage age begins typically around twelve or at the start of the
     menstrual cycle for girls. Shortly after the girl is deemed 'sexually
     mature'--about a year after their first cycle--they are encouraged to
     attend group dances(usually sponsored by high-ranking males in the
     community) where they are eyed for courtship by the males in the
     community. Dances were originally intended to be one of the rare
     forms of socialization between young members of the cult, but as the
     community grew, it became a competitive breeding ground of stalking,
     objectification, and the preying on of young girls by much older men,
     who saw the male youths as competition for wives. Competition became
     so intense that many young men were excommunicated from the cult,
     many times with little to no basis or explanation, and were then
     abandoned on the streets by their families without any support or
     warning or knowledge of the outside world. Many of these young boys,
     unable to cope with such a traumatic uprooting of their family
     systems, resorted to drastic measures---drugs, prostitution, and--
     largely--suicide.
     ---Excerpt from Under the Branches of Yggdrasil:Chapter Five--
     Courtship and Concubines
See the end of the work for more notes
The day of Loki's twelfth birthday was one of the hottest and wettest of the
year. For six whole hours he was confined to the stuffiness of his classrooms,
idly watching flies bang against the window, as if they too, were desperate to
escape. Loki's shirt clung to him, his hair sweated out into a tangled mess
after he spent nearly an hour brushing it after waking up especially early.
Brain sluggish, he could barely focus as the teacher's voice droned on and on,
washing over him, until his mind was a muddled mess of scripture and math
problems.
By the time the bell rang, he could barely register that it was time for him to
finally go home. His teacher gave him a scowl when he saw him stumbling from
his desk, toying feebly with his bag.
"Sleeping in class again, Loki?" he growls.
Mr. Jones does not like him.
"No, sir. 'S just tired..."
"You're lucky you're Laufey's son." he cuts him off sharply."If you were
anybody else's brat I'd flog the skin off your back."
Loki clenches his fists and says nothing. His teacher doesn't seem to like any
of his students, in fact seems to relish finding any excuse to punish them---
poor Jaime Coulder had gotten caned just last week for "speaking out of turn",
after she had dared to ask her deskmate for a pencil during one of the
teacher's lectures. The fact that Loki is protected from his chastisement by
his family's blood seems to incite a particular bitterness and enmity on Mr.
Jones' part.
Loki, for his part, did his best not to goad the man any further, waiting the
proper length of time to make sure he had nothing else to scold him for, before
leaving the room, shoulders hunched as he walked past him, and a breathy sigh
of relief escaping him once he entered the hallway.
Freedom at last.
....
A dance is being held today, and he sees several of his classmates already
queuing outside of the auditorium where it will be held. So far, Loki has not
been made to be subjected to that, and his father has even expressely forbid it
in future, for which he is thankful. From what his older brothers had told him,
the dances were terribly boring--particularly since the elders had found out
that the younger members of the community had been setting up their own private
get togethers away from the watchful eyes of the old men--and terribly
restrictive. "They never even let us really talk before some old, desperate
fart came in and tried to scoop up the girls, or started eyeing the boys to
give to their wives." Helbindi had told him with a bit of relish. "They
would've started a riot over you, runt. You're pretty as a girl, but can't make
any children like them to compete with what they have back at home. They
would've been all over you."
"I wouldn't have let them." Loki had protested loudly, his ears flushing. "And
I'm not pretty, Bindi." Pretty was for girls.
Bindi had only laughed at him, and ruffled his hair in a rare show of
affection. "Don't worry, Father'lll have someone picked out for you, before
long."
"I don't want to be married!" he had replied hotly, but his oldest brother had
just snorted and left him at the table glaring sullenly at his cereal.
Byleistr had scolded him for that. "It is your duty to be married, little one.
You shouldn't say things like that."
"But why? I don't want to be married to some stupid girl."
"Well, then you can belong to another man's house. You don't have to be with a
girl if you don't want. I'm sure Father will understand and you'll be with some
affluent and worthy of you."
"I don't want to be with some stupid old man either." he'd said with a pout.
Byleistr had given a long sigh. "I know it sounds hard and strange, but when
you get older, you'll understand, brother. You have the blood in you. It is
your obligation to this world to share your seed in some way or another. Just
as me and Bindi and Father have to."
Well, Loki was a whole year older now and he still didn't understand why he was
supposed to spend his life with some other person he probably didn't know. He
knew that belonging to someone else and having them belong to you was part of
growing up, but looking at the other families he couldn't imagine having the
same kind of relationship Father had had with mother before she'd died.
Sigyn's parents were always arguing with each other about whether or not her
father should get another wife, with her mother getting into terrible rages
about it, seeing his lack of acquiring one as a major disappointment. Sif,
who's first father had died just a few years ago, was in constant arguments
with her first mother, second father, and third mother about her getting
married, and many of the other marriages in the community were riddled with
either discomfort or violence. Loki didn't think any of that was worth the
pretty ceremony and increase of status.
At least, he didn't think he did--on a fundamental level he recognized how
important marriage was in regards to his after life and where he'd fit into
their community, but there were still many things his young mind couldn't wrap
his head around just yet, no matter how clever people said he was for his age.
And in any case, as his father was fond of reminding him, he already had two
older brothers who were sure to breed a lot sooner than he'd be able to.
As it was, he was simply fixated on getting home, on being able to return to
his room and sit under the cool fan above his bed and suck on ice-cubes for the
rest of the day.
....
The dirt path was long and twisting, and it wasn't long before his shirt was
once again sticking to him, his hair plastered against his forehead. Eventually
the heat got so bad that a wave of nausea overcame him and he had to lean
against one of the poles that held up a neighbor's laundry line to prevent him
from falling over.
"I think I'll just..lay here for a moment," he muttered to himself, kneeling
into the grass.
Closing his eyes, he didn't know how much time had passed before a loud, and
abrupt car horn interrupted his thoughts. Leaping up so quickly another wave of
nausea threatened to keel him over, an apology was already on his tongue.
"I'm so sorry--"
"Loki!" a voice shouted from the driver's seat of the pickup truck and the boy
instantly smiled.
It was Steve, one of his family's thralls, and one of the only people Loki
could call a friend. Steve was fifteen and had been serving under his family
since he was a child, as had his parents before him, before the troubles with
his father and his mother's illness. Seeing him now was a godsend.
"Get in, buddy, you look terrible."
Loki obliged eagerly, breaking into a mild jog to slip beside him in the
passenger seat.
"They're making you walk home on your birthday?" Steve asked him bemusedly,
once the other had buckled himself in and he'd restarted the car.
"Oh, it's alright." Loki brushed the inquiry away. "I'm not quite certain they
remember it anyway, and besides I always walk home."
"Yes, but in this heat--"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." The topic was beginning to irritate
him, and besides thinking about it made him uncomfortable.
Steve rightly kept his mouth shut on it after that, and changed the subject.
"Well, anyway, I got something for you."
"You did?" The boy's eyes lit up immediately.
"Yep, but you gotta wait till I get you home."
"But I want it, now." Loki whined with put-upon indignance.
Steve only gave him a dry smile. "Sorry, kiddo. You're going to have to wait."
Of course, Loki had the authority to simply make Steve give in to his commands,
but he liked his friend too much to be so firm with him. Besides, the thrall
had an excellent track record as far as gifts went, and he had faith that
whatever he was to give him would be carefully selected to his wants. He was
nearly bouncing out of his seat just thinking about it.
Last year, Steve had given him the complete series of the Chronicles of Narnia,
something that Loki knew must've been hard to give up as the books had been in
Steve's family since before they'd come into the hands of the prophet, but he
knew that Loki loved to read and hadn't been able to as much as he liked
because Father had no interest in what he called "frivolous past times." And
before that he had given him a nice, sturdy pair of boots that he he himself
had grown out of. Bindi had laughed at that, and Bee had scolded him for
wearing old clothes and acting so familiar with the other boy, but Steve was
his friend. And besides, Father always gave him boring things like clothes, and
all Bindi did was pinch and blow raspberries, while Bee meant well, but he was
boring too.
And Loki was...rather fond of his thrall. As children, both of them had been
weak and sickly, and so often had to stay inside and away from the others.
Though Steve was older than him, his illnesses had made him unable to run and
play with the other boys his age, and he was often sent to give Loki company.
As he got older though, Steve grew stronger, his sickness receding. He'd grown
since then, hard work filling out his chest and arms, a growth spurt two years
ago giving him at least three inches over Loki now, and yet somehow, the thrall
managed to carry his height without the awkwardness a lot of his peers suffered
through.
Catching Steve out the corner of his eye, stealing a glance at him, a wide,
soft smile spread across his face, Loki bending his head to hide the heat
spreading across his cheeks at that grin---
Yes, Loki was rather fond of his thrall.
"So did you hear?" Steve broke the silence as Loki's house came within sight.
"The Father had another vision this morning."
Loki raised a brow. "Really?" Visions weren't altogether a rare occurrence,
exactly, but Loki could tell by the others tone that it wasn't a typical
wedding decision or something like that.
Steve nodded, turning down the dirt path. "I've heard he's lowering the
marrying age for boys."
That made Loki's ear prick up,and he felt his heart beat just a fraction
quicker. "How young?"
His friend turned and gave him a significant look. "Just a year lower."
The boy gulped. Boys typically were deemed fit to marry a couple of years after
a girl, at fourteen or fifteen, which is why most marriages had a certain age
gap, even if they were between the younger members of the community(which was
honestly rare within itself, but still). He fidgeted nervously.
"He's also giving more status to male concubines."
Well, that certainly had Loki raising a brow. Concubines in lesser households
were merely there for the pleasure of sex, not that he would ever have to worry
about that. He, if his father so chose, would become the esteemed lover of a
highly ranked member of the community(possibly even the prophet, Bee liked to
whisper to him in the moments where he wanted to convince him of the values of
being with another). He'd be gifted with almost the same esteem as the first
wives if he was good enough at his position, and if his dowry was sufficient.
Loki's bloodline ensured that instead of being some lowly daughter or son of
the peasant class sold to a higher ranking member in a desperate attempt to
earn a blessing or financial help, he would be a prize, a well taken care of
trophy. If marriage to the High Prophet was the utmost honor, being one of his
prized concubines was a close second, and it was an opportunity given only to a
very few.
Loki understood all of this, but still, the prospect of that decision having to
be made sooner than he liked unnerved him. His father would probably remain as
steadfast as he always was though, as he still wasn't allowed to participate in
activities with even the children his age, and his father commanding him
straight home instead of letting him lounge around where suitors might pursue
him. So he could reassure him that he was safe for the moment, at least.
"Kid?" he heard Steve's voice snap him out of his thoughts and realized he'd
been quiet for longer than he'd thought. "You alright?"
Loki looked up and realized that they were in front of his house. "Yes," he
said a little too quickly. "I'm fine." Without another word, he slammed the
door of Steve's car open, landing on the gravel with a crunch, the heat
blasting over him once more. Before he reached his door however, Steve walking
behind him, he heard a shout coming from the driveway.
Turning his head in mild irritation, he saw that it was Thor. Thor! The Thor,
of which there were many from those who wanted to garner favor or honor the
prophet, but there was only one who was the Father's son, his eldest, from his
First and True wife. And now he was here, calling his name.
For a moment he was starstruck, mouth slightly agape staring at the other boy.
Thor was a year younger than Steve, but taller, thicker, his hair long, golden,
thick, and flowing, tied up in a messy ponytail. Someone had tried to put him
in a decent dress shirt and pants, but both were covered in a thin layer of
dust now, sweat spreading out from under his arms, staining his shirt. And yet
he was still beautiful. At fourteen, he was already mostly a man.
For another moment Loki was unable to say anything in the presence of one of
the holy sons, until Steve gave a grunt behind him. "Going inside, Loki?"
"And who's this?" Thor said cooly before the boy could answer, his expression,
which had been relieved at catching up with him, narrowing as he set his eyes
on the thrall.
"This is my friend--my thrall." Loki stammered. "A servant of my house, helping
me get home." It was almost embarassing to refer to the boy as his friend under
the gaze of such a high-ranking member of the Family, but he bore on,
attempting to maintain his composure. "What brings you here?"
"Father told me it was your birthday."
The Father had noticed me?! Loki thought breathlessly.
"Well, state your business and be off then." Steve said behind him. To his
surprise, his thrall looked almost annoyed with the golden child before him.
"Ha!" Thor replied with a curled lip. "Isn't it you who should be going off
then? Seems to me you've served your purpose as...undesirable as it was for
someone so far above your rank." He gave a derisive snort. "I've come to give
my dear friend here a gift as my father bid me, something your...people would
never have the chance to even look at."
"Then give it to him and be on your way." Steve ground out through clenched
teeth. If Loki were honest with himself, it frightened him--he had never seen
his friend angry before. But a holy son was here, and it fell on him to prove
his training. So he ground his feet into the ground, stood firm, and tried to
make himself feel taller.
"Steve." he said, banishing the nervousness from his voice and lfiting his chin
the slightest. "I shall no longer need your services this afternoon. I'd like
it if you returned to your quarters."
For a moment, Steve just stood stiff, still glowering at Thor, who merely gave
him a chill glance and appeared to be sizing the other up.
"Steven." Loki said, harder this time. He couldn't have Thor going back to his
father and telling him how immature and young he was, unable to command his own
servants. "I want you to leave now, or I'll have my father make you."
There was another awkward silence before Steve abruptly turned, his face
expressionless, and walked stiffly to his car. The ignition started, and the
truck was soon barreling down the dirt path, off and away to wherever Steve
went when he wasn't attending him. For another lengthy moment neither said
anything, Loki biting his lip in guilt at speaking to his friend in such a
manner, until Thor spat upon the ground, his expression foul.
"You need to learn to better control your thralls. You're almost a man now, you
shouldn't have to tell him more than once--nay, you shouldn't have to tell him
at all not to speak out of turn."
"I'll--I'll talk to him."
"My father uses the cane. Or a whip. Whatever works best." Thor replied curtly.
"You've let him grow too familiar, ridden side by side with him, and let him
breathe the same air as you, as though he were worthy. That's how they forget.
You should've sat in the backseat."
Loki frowned at that. "But there isn't--"
"As I was saying before, Father sent me to send you a gift." the other boy cut
across him. "Let's go inside so we can open it." That easy grin that Loki had
so often observed from afar was spreading across his face again, and he
couldn't help but to return it.
"Certainly." he said with a nervous smile. "Come in. Please." Leading him to
his door, he cast a final worrisome look to where Steve had taken off. I'll
talk to him later. Get him to better understand. Before he could fully turn the
knob however, he felt Thor press against him, leaning in close to his ear.
"Father said that he has a mind to let me marry you."
Loki jumped and crashed into the door. "I'm sorry--?"
Thor gave a booming laugh. "Well, not really. But I think he does at least. Why
else would he send me over to you?"
"But--b--I--I'm not old enough to marry yet." Loki managed to stammer out.
Thor gave another one of his booming laughs. "Now you are. Didn't you hear?"
He continued to laugh, and Loki lowered his eyes, the tips of his ears turning
red, as he raised shaking hands to the door.
Father won't make me so soon, I know he won't. Especially not with this...oaf.
Besides, nothing was set in stone. Likely Thor was just trying to mess with
him--he often heard tales of him doing things like that at school.
Walking in, Loki once again felt a flush of embarassment. Nobody was home yet,
and nobody had come to clean up yet. He knew his home couldn't compare to where
Thor laid his head.
But the older boy didn't seem to be paying attention to any of that, instead
making himself comfortable on the closes chair in the room--the large sofachair
that his Father often made a home of when he returned from work--and pulled a
box out of his pocket.
"Come on, then." he said gruffly. "Let's take a look at it." Loki took the box
from him and opened it, his mouth falling open at what he saw.
A string of small golden jewels were in the box atop a soft cusion, shiny and
prettier than anything he'd yet seen.
"It's some kind of hair-dress thing. They're old ones of my mother's. She liked
to put them in her hair when she went to important stuff."
"They're beautiful." Loki said softly.
"Want to try them on?"
"Yes!" Loki said excitedly, before calming himself "I mean--well, my hair's a
mess and--"
A sharp knock on the door interrupted him.
Thor gave a huff as Loki went to answer it, the box still clutched firmly in
his hands.
It was Sigyn. Soft, quiet, pretty Sigyn chewing her lip, and he sucked in an
irritated breath at seeing her. Always butting in at the most inoppurtune times
she was.
"I came to bring you a gift." she told him quietly.
"Could you bring it later, please?" he asked her with no small hint of
agitation.
"Well, I--"
"Not now, Sigyn, please."
Sigyn was practically a baby. He craned his neck outside the door to see her
bike parked on the side of his house. She only lived a little ways up the road
from here, but he could tell she was a bit winded from the ride. Rolling his
eyes, he snapped, "Alright, just give it here now."
With trembling hands she handed a small bag to him, which he quickly grabbed.
"Go on, then." he ushered her off. He was sure the present would be something
boring and babyish like it always was. He barely acknowledged her as he shut
the door in her face.
"Who was that?"
"Just the little girl from up the road."
Thor gave a slow nod. Giving a glance at his watch, he stood up. "I'm going to
have to speak to you again sometime soon, Loki." he said with a wink. "I'm
going to be late for something if I don't get a move on."
Loki gave a noncomittal grunt, silently cursing Sigyn for ruining the only
company he'd be having over for the rest of his birthday.
Watching the older boy stroll off down the road, he could faintly hear the
compound's bells ringing once, twice, three times, the realization that he'd
forgotten to collect Steve's gift hitting him.
End Notes
     a/n: 5/3/13 So, I meant to do this fic years ago(in 2011, I think)
     but I totally hit a roadblock with all of my fics, and therefore
     couldn't complete or start anything major. A lot of this is inspired
     by the amazing memoir Escape by Carolyn Jessop, who was part of the
     Fundamental Church Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints(FLDS) cult run
     by Warren Jeffs. The book was an incredibly powerful and interesting
     read, and I'd suggest picking that book up if you have a chance. I'm
     trying to build some kind of world with this story, mixing up some
     mythology with comics and with cult stuff.
     9/22/13 It's almost five in the fucking morning and I didn't
     particularity give a fuck about editing or cleaning up, I just wanted
     to finish this and publish it, so forgive if this shit is rushed,
     choppy, or kind of random towards the end. Love you lots if you
     review.
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