Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/729755.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies), Thor_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor
  Character:
      Loki_(Marvel), Thor_(Marvel), Odin_(Marvel), Frigga_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Gender_Changes, Incest, Blood, Violence
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-21 Words: 3505
****** Run far from the carnage ******
by cm_(mumblemutter)
Summary
     Loki comes back for Thor.
                                           "I told you I would return for you."
                                                               "Not like this."
                                                           "Exactly like this."
 
 
 
His orders are clear: show no mercy, give no quarter, but the princess is to be
left unharmed. The princess is to be left untouched.
It is easier said than done when the princess insists on being in the thick of
it, felling giants left and right. She was always fearless.
It is Loki that takes her down, in the end.
*
They rarely talked about the kingdom, or who would ascend the throne. It seemed
obvious to Loki when he was younger, far less so as they both grew.
"You know," Thor said once, hugging her knees to her chest and tilting her head
at him, "If I was born to be queen, and you king, then the clear solution would
be for us to get married."
"Don't be ridiculous," Loki said, and swallowed past the dryness of his throat.
"You're my sister. Besides, look at you, you are as ugly as a boy."
"And you are as pretty as a girl. We're perfect."
"I will take the fairest of maidens as my queen."
"As if one would have you," Thor said, sniffing.
Loki reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Many have," he
said. It was not a lie: he'd had a growth spurt, quite abruptly, and found
enough ladies of the court willing to ignore his age and drag him into one
alcove or another.
"So I have heard," Thor said, and sounded displeased. "Do you really think I'm
ugly?"
"You spend too much time with your precious goats. Your face resembles theirs
now."
Thor laughed, and kicked him in the shin.
Loki would never tell her the truth, not about this.
*
Everyone else falls away, and then it is only the two of them, as it has always
been.
"Loki," she says. "What are you doing?" She is taller than he remembers her.
There is a cut on her cheek, bleeding freely. Loki reaches out and touches it.
She doesn't flinch, and he watches the poison seep in, burrowing under her
skin.
"I am here to claim what's rightfully mine," Loki says.
Thor drops her sword, falls to the ground.
*
"Are you warm enough," Mother said, rubbing his shoulders. "Do you feel he's
warm enough?"
"Apparently I'm a frost giant. I assume I will be fine." Loki refused to hug
her back when she pulled him into her, refused to consider that this would be
the last time he'd hear her voice, feel her touch.
"You will visit. I will visit," she said, and nodded her head as if she would
make it truth upon the strength of her words alone.
Thor wasn't allowed to see him off. Father said she was inconsolable, and Loki
had heard from the servants that she'd destroyed half her rooms. The servants
exaggerated, but it reeked of Thor, and made him smile. It was for the best,
regardless: better she remember him last as her brother, and not one of the
monsters she was so afraid of when young. Better he remember her last as his
sister, and not everything that he wasn't.
"Tell her -" Loki said, and paused. "Nevermind." He'd written a note, sent a
raven to deliver it to her room. It would suffice.
Father squeezed the back of his neck as they waited for Heimdall to open the
bifrost. "Do me proud," he said. Loki turned, and there was Thor, running
towards them, hair streaming behind her. But the sword was already in, and in a
moment she was gone, and he was in Jotunheim.
*
Odin powerless, countless others dead, Loki gathers whomever's left in a
banquet hall, frost giants guarding their necks as they are forced to their
knees. Thor he carries, throws carelessly onto the table where they'd had
countless meals together, laughed and squabbled and shared secrets that only
the two of them were privy to.
She is barely conscious, yet still reaches for the short sword at her belt.
Loki takes it from her, tosses it aside. "Loki," Thor says. "Let me go." She
still sounds as if she is making a demand of her elder brother: read me a
story, lift me up higher, let us spar.
And he should gloat, should smirk at Odin over how easy this is, how easy it is
to take everything he ever held dear.
Instead he wraps her braid around his hand and leans close, watches the first
glimmer of awareness seep into her gaze.
*
Before Thor was born, a boy was expected. All the seers proclaimed it; even the
healers, usually accurate, somehow got it wrong. Loki used to put his ear to
Mother's belly as Thor was kicking, say, "He's really strong."
"That he is. He's impatient to get here." She hugged Loki to her and said, "He
will be here soon. You will take care of him, won't you?"
Loki nodded solemnly, even as his heart constricted. He would no longer be
alone, but he would also have to share. It didn't seem fair that they could
both be king, even though Loki was older. "Did I kick a lot as well when I was
in there," he asked Mother.
She brushed the top of his head with her hand, and did not answer.
*
He thrusts into her and she screams, high and lonely, and that is it, it is
done it is done it is done. "It's all right," Loki says. "It will be over
soon."
Thor starts to struggle at last, pushing up against his fist. Her muscles flex
and her arms straighten against the table, and Loki has to drape himself over
her body to keep her down.
He is thinner than her, still.
"Stop," she says, as he encircles her wrists with his fingers. "Loki, stop. It
is not too late."
Only it is, and if his cock rammed tight inside of her isn't proof of that,
nothing is.
"Oh, princess," Loki says, and has to choke back a sob. "I have only just
begun."
Someone starts to cry.
It isn't Thor, it would take far more than this for her. Loki lifts his head to
search for its source. She is hidden behind Volstagg's voluminous form, so it
must be his wretched wife. "Remove her," he tells a guard.
"Shall I kill her?"
"Villain," Volstagg says. "You cannot -"
"Shut up. Put her with my mother." He turns his attention back to Thor as
Hildegund's sobs fade away, says, "Surrender."
"No."
*
Thor always crawled into bed with Loki, despite all earlier attempts to keep
her away. She would chatter inanely at him, refusing to shut up. Refusing to
let Loki sleep until she fell asleep. Sometimes it would happen mid-sentence:
he would be half-listening, barely awake, and her voice would stop. He would
look over and her eyes would be closed, thumb invariably wandering towards her
mouth.
Sometimes she brought in books and demanded to be read to: Loki learnt to leave
a book by his bedside, in order that he could choose what it was they read, and
not be subjected to reading about the defeat of the frost giants for the
hundredth time.
Sometimes she just brought in a brush, and put it in his hand, and he would run
it through her hair until it shone as bright and as golden as Asgard. Strange,
how he'd never truly questioned why Asgard loved Thor as if it were a living
thing, showering her with light and warmth, while Loki had to hide in the
shadows merely to keep from suffocating.
Thor would always be gone by dawn, and only once did Loki wake up when Mother
picked her up, to hear her say, "No, I want to stay with Loki."
"Shh, Thor. Go back to sleep, love."
In the morning Loki would think he had only dreamed it, and chose to forget.
*
Odin says, "Loki, enough, you have proven your point."
Loki shoves down further onto the table. "No, I have only just begun to prove
my point, father."
It is not enough. He wants to see her face.
He lifts himself off her, out of her, says, "Turn around."
"No."
"Turn around, or I will drag Mother back in here and make her bear witness." He
tugs on her braid, but it isn't necessary, she's already turning, squeezing her
thighs together as she shifts onto her elbows.
Loki reaches between her legs, pries them apart, but gently. The inside of her
thighs are sticky. Loki looks down and sees blood, more than he'd expected. He
rubs some, idly, into her skin, and she trembles. "Tell me you will forgive me
now," he says. There is no response. "Tell me," he says, louder this time,
"that Asgard and Jotunheim can rule in peace together, that we can carve a
treaty out, right here and right now. Father, what say you?"
He leaves Thor on the table, stands above Odin and swipes his fingers across
his mouth, leaving it faintly stained with blood. "Stop crying for her. It's
pathetic."
"I do not shed tears for Thor, son."
"I was never your son."
He sees movement, and grabs Thor as she's scooting off the table, slams her
back onto it. "Stay."
She spits at him.
Loki says, "And I thought you loved me," and watches her face crumple, watches
the fight bleed out of her. He wipes his face, slowly. It's warm, and when he
leans down to kiss her she doesn't resist.
The kiss is softer than he'd intended, and he ends up cradling her face with
his hand, tilting her head back as she opens her mouth, allows him in. And oh,
she tastes the same, she tastes exactly the same. He had thought it would be
different, for they are both different, but it isn't. He kisses her again, and
again, wetly, hotly, drowning in her heat, and he can't tell if she kisses him
back or not, can't tell if it matters or not.
When they break apart, Loki can feel his breath stutter as he tries to exhale.
Thor says, in a rush, "It's not too late, Loki, you can still -"
"Hush," Loki says. This time when he slides into her it's easier, and she
barely makes a sound.
*
It was merely a kiss. Her arms around his neck, dragging him down, his hands on
her hips. But still, only a kiss. They were children. He broke it off, startled
by a nearby gasp, and turned his head in time to catch a disappearing flash of
red. "Someone saw us," Thor said, and for once sounded worried about the
possible consequences of her actions.
"Yes," Loki replied, and shrugged. "It doesn't matter." It was just one kiss.
But of course, it did.
*
"We can still foster peace. Asgard can be rebuilt, I will rule Jotunheim, our
realms will unite." He turns briefly to Thor, lying still on the table. "Thor
of course is to be my thrall."
Rage, finally, streaks across Odin's face. "You would do this to your own
sister?"
"Not my sister. I think we've established that already, have we not?" He lowers
his voice and purses his lips thoughtfully. "But that is partly why you sent me
away, isn't it? Couldn't have me defiling your precious heir. Funny, I'd always
wondered why you favored her over your firstborn son."
"You are wrong," Odin says, and he sounds tired. "I did not."
*
Odin said, "This isn't a punishment. I have faith that you will do Asgard
proud." This, after Loki was done screaming, this after he was merely reduced
to sobbing, unable to stop. Frigga held him in her arms, rocking him softly,
and Loki thought: she is not my mother.
"Perhaps he is too young," she said. "A few years from now, when he has time to
adjust."
"No," Odin said. "Laufey expects him now."
"I will not go," Loki said, quite clearly. "You cannot make me." But then, what
right did he have to make demands of Odin? He was owed nothing, was nothing.
Odin merely replied, wearily, as if he were the one whose entire world had been
shattered, "You are a prince of Asgard, and as such have no choice but to live
up to your responsibilities. There is nothing else but duty."
*
"I'll give you some time to think about it," Loki says. He unsheathes the
knife, turns it over in his hands. "This was made to kill a king. It works,
too. But death is too easy, I feel. Death is escape. Remember this though, as
you consider my mercy: I am what you made me."
He turns, just in time to stab the knife into Thor's forearm, pain radiating up
his own arm as it jams through bone. Thor drops her sword and he drags her down
with the handle of the knife, and she only screams when he pulls it out,
fingers clamped over the wound. "I told you to stay," Loki says.
"Stop this, Loki. Whatever I've done to you, I'm sorry. You're my brother." She
starts to cry, finally; soft, anguished sobs. Loki gathers her into his arms,
carries her back to the table. She clutches at him, fingers gripped into the
fabric of his coat, and refuses to let him go. Loki takes her wrists into his
hands, tries to push her away, but he finds himself unable to move. "Please,
stop," Thor says.
"I can't," Loki says. "Can't you see? It's too late."
*
Jotunheim was cold, but the cold he could take. It would seem it was in his
blood, after all. Laufey said, "He should have left you to die, as you were
meant to."
"Yes," Loki replied, "he should have," and almost escaped the fist of Byleistr,
slamming into the side of his head.
"Duck faster next time, runt," Byleistr said, and laughed. Loki started a list
in his head.
He learnt a lot, in Jotunheim.
Such as:
His body was made to process raw meat, not what he had been given in Asgard. It
explained the childhood illnesses, the general malaise, his tendency to react
badly when given food he was not already accustomed to.
Still, he could barely stand the taste of what he was fed. Would rather food he
was used to than what he was meant to eat. Helblindi said, "Are you too good
for this food, you disgusting mongrel." He knocked Loki's plate out of his
hands. Loki bent down and picked it up, set the meat back on it. He continued
to pick at the food, said nothing at all. Helbindi was already on his list.
Such as:
His skin turned blue when touched by a frost giant, but only then. Laufey said,
"You think you are still on Asgard, boy?" He took Loki's chin in his hand,
turned his head to the left and then the right. "It cannot be Odin's magic at
work." A smile spread, slow on his face. "So you are a shapeshifter, then. If I
had known I might have kept you alive after all."
A shapeshifter. It made as much sense as anything. He could be that, and a
monster as well, surrounded by other monsters. Laufey said, "You might adjust
better if you took on Jotun form."
Loki thought about it for a long second, then said, "No."
Laufey merely grunted.
Such as:
The bastard son of a disgraced king could not ascend the throne.
But if the king were to be toppled, well then.
This, as with all things, Loki thought, had to be Odin's plan.
He counted the months, with Asgard's calendar. Three summers to the day: she
would have only just come of age.
Loki would be his father's son, in the end.
*
Loki kisses the crook of her neck, as he drags her into his lap, says, "I will
kill someone for the next act of disobedience. And the next, and the next. Do
you want that?"
"No."
"Then behave."
Her armor is in the way, so he undoes it and tosses it aside together with her
undershirt, leaving her bare chested. He glances around the hall. Almost
everyone has their eyes averted, save for a few who cast their eyes downwards
when his gaze lands upon them. The frost giants standing guard remain
impassive, as always.
It doesn't matter. None of them matter. He slides his hands up her back and she
leans into him, tucks her head against his shoulder. He loosens her braids,
smoothes down the tresses until they flow evenly.
Thor lifts her head, stares directly at him.
Her eyes are very blue as she starts to move, and Loki has to fight to keep
from looking away. He will not look away. Thor rides him as if she has done
this before, as if she knows what she is doing.
She was always fearless.
Her hands settle on his shoulders, and he can feel her, oh he can feel her hot
and tight around him, as if this were a fantasy and he was back in Jotunheim,
his fingers wrapped around his cock, wracked with shame as he pictured her
face, imagined her older than when he'd left.
Loki pulls her back into him, holds on for a long as he can, which isn't long
at all. She's so hot, as if she were burning, searing his Jotun skin. He lifts
her up, pushes her back down onto the table and she wraps her legs around his
waist, and whimpers every time he drives into her. Or perhaps that's him. He
cannot tell anymore.
"Loki," she says, and when she moans he cradles her head with the back of his
hand. He can't breathe: he wants to scream, to pull away and run hollering down
the hallways like he did as a child, Thor trailing behind him on chubby little
legs, and then when they were older, speeding past him as if she were born to
it.
He finishes instead, spills his seed into her with a long shudder, spills
everything into her.
*
When they were children, they followed Father's favored huntsmen as they went
on a quest. Loki was convinced they were lying about their exploits: surely
tales so fantastical were just that, stories told to elevate themselves and
entertain the easily impressed.
Thor would shrug and say, "Of course they're telling the truth. Why would they
lie?" It never crossed her mind that they would.
It never crossed her mind that Loki would, even though he told her so very
many. Little lies, all of them. None of them counted. He only ever told her one
thing that was true.
They found themselves lost, inevitably, wandering the forest until dusk, and
then mostly waiting to be rescued. Thor held on to Loki's hand, squeezed it
tight, but still pulled ahead as if she wasn't afraid. Loki held out the other,
lit a hovering green ball of light. Thor looked faintly awed, and Loki felt a
flush of pleasure.
"Look, Loki. I see fire ahead," Thor said, after they had been walking around
what seemed like the same stretch of forest for hours. She let go of his hand
and ran ahead, not once looking back.
She always knew he would follow her, back then.
Around the fire crouched an old woman, poking at the flames with a stick. There
was a bird roasting above the fire, dripping fat. Loki said, "Come away, Thor,"
and held out his hand.
But she merely stared hungrily at the bird, and then at the old woman. "I am
Thor," she said. "Of Asgard. This is my brother Loki."
Names had power. Loki knew that well enough not to give his out freely; Thor
was too assured in her own power that she did.
The woman straightened her back and beckoned them closer. Loki only came to
fetch Thor, and as he did he could see that she had no eyes, and that her lips
were sewn shut with thread.
Still, she spoke, said: Loki, of Asgard, not of Asgard. I have a secret to tell
you.
*
There is silence for moment, save for his harsh breaths and the sound of her
heart beating rabbit-fast against his chest.
Loki lifts himself up onto his palms, taking his weight off her.
Her cheeks are flushed, the poison spreading out under her skin slowly fading
away. It looks like lightning.
Someone else starts to sob, a low, horrified sound.
"You're crying," Thor says, and puts trembling fingers to his face. "Don't cry.
It will be all right."
Loki starts to laugh, and finds that he cannot stop.
*
Her kiss was sweet, delicate. She tasted like sunshine, like the promise of
something new.
He opened his eyes and she was gone, and he was in Jotunheim.
 
 
 
                                             "For a price," the witch told him.
                                                     "I'll pay whatever it is."
                                "You will, yes. But you will find it too high."
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