An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 9 - Kings, Judges and Diplomats
Summary: Young Loki and Aletheia receive a grand promotion respectively. Meanwhile, Basim and Hytham go skydiving to liberate the Staff.
Spoiler free preview:
With a splitting headache, Basim exited the Animus, shaking off the ache in his muscles.
No sooner had he sat up before Shaun and Rebecca crowded his space.
A deep sigh escaped him as he brushed his hand through his hair to tie it back into a bun.
The memories’ veil still lingered, the ache of approval from Havi…Once you were my brother… I really did love you…Why? Why did you hurt me so much?
He had trusted him with everything… yet the gift of hindsight revealed that Havi only sought a glorified weapon – a dog that would maim and kill on command.
Basim was left little time to process his reflections as the assassins looked to him with anticipation.
“That was amazing. Full synchronisation without the mythological filters,” Shaun beamed, looking over Rebecca’s shoulder as she checked Basim’s vitals.
With furrowed brows, Basim noted the vehicle to be stationary, all occupants seemingly absorbed with his care. “How long ago did we arrive?”
Becs tried to suppress her grin. “A while ago, but we were too keen to see how you would handle Gullveig’s situation to pull you out.”
Tension lingered in his body as Basim felt the need to punch something. Instead, he softly rolled his shoulders to dissipate the emotional pain festering in his body. Curse you, Havi. Curse you.
Hytham looked up from his copy of the Edda, looking to Basim with a soft sigh. “Would you like to spar?”
Sparring would be nice right about now… Yet Basim was unsure if he could hold back on the sheer fury he currently felt directed at his past. “You know me too well,” Basim teased, freeing himself from the Animus’ contraption to take a seat beside Hytham. He squeezed Hytham’s shoulders softly while peering over the words in his lap.
Hytham chuckled slightly, placing the book beside him. “I know you better than anyone still left breathing…”
“I cannot believe you were a wolf,” Becs grinned, turning to Basim with a sparkle in her eyes. “And you actually became a woman. For real. Was it weird?”
Basim chuckled, feeling slightly more relaxed at the change of topic. “Being a woman? It had its charms. Perhaps that’s why Nehal…”
His brows furrowed slightly, deep brown eyes growing softer with a longing for a long past ghost. A shadow of himself – a reflection of who he once was.
Nehal had once seemed like a separate entity, a friend when he needed one most. She had her own form, voice, views, and in Basim’s mind, even a scent—of cinnamon, freshly squeezed lemon, and ginger. She smelled of home, love, and warmth. All the things Aletheia had smelled of.
Her touch felt like soft silks on a warm summer night. Like Aletheia’s. She had been more real than any physical object in this world.
Sometimes, he thought he glimpsed her at the markets or on quiet evening strolls. Then, he coldly remembered that she had never been real outside his imagination.
Because she was me. The greatest and most painful deception I ever pulled… was on myself.
A/N: Much happier with this chapter compared to the last. Hope some of y’all enjoy this too :D
i’ve had a weird couple of mental head days. like. i keep thinking about you and everything that happened and how it all went down and how lonely i feel, not being me&you, just being me and nothing else. i’ve been thinking about how you don’t think about me at all; how you broke me heart without me knowing, and then i knew and you didn’t , how neither of us understand each other now that are hearts aren’t put together, how insane it is that are hearts are made of the same pieces but they aren’t in the same configuration, and that made you stop loving me but i never stopped loving you. i love you still. and it hurts more and more everyday. i think a lot about how i still love you without talking to you, without seeing you, without even knowing you. i love knowing that you exist and that you are happy with her and that you had someone you loved enough to choose for. i feel idiotic. i feel weak. i feel worthless and unlovable and unwanted. i feel overdramatic and insane. i feel awkward and misplaced. i feel like a bad dream. i feel like an intruder. i feel like a movie extra. i feel all of these things and then i feel empty. i miss you, but i never want to see you again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 12 - Bad Blood
“This is my oath, my promise to bear.
Drink up my blood, upon this promise I swear.
Crimson and scarlet, the birth of our union we share.
May death be a snare to me, if this promise I tear.
You are my brother, most noble and fair.”
Summary below cut
Summary: A king is laid to rest and another rises in his stead, and at long last, Loki receives his promised blood-oath.
Basim and Hytham reach Atlantis but there is yet a burden on Hytham’s shoulder which Basim wishes to address.
A/N: Ah man work has been hectic and the world is in chaos, but thank goodness I can write. Why must I exist in a capitalist society? Is it not enough to daydream and write? XD
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 11: Long Live the King
Summary: Loki discovers a family secret he is unprepared to face while Aletheia has a secret of her own to confess. Alas, work demands their attention and Loki is spurred by a new target deserving of ‘justice’.
Snippet
The air in Asgard was crisp and fresh, the high peaks of their nation already buried by layers of snow while the valleys were blanketed with frost and frozen dew, layering blades of grass with a silver tinge of cold.
But the chill air felt good upon Loki’s skin, leaning against the railing of his balcony beside Havi. Loki gazed upon the frosty meadows as Havi’s ravens stretched their wings with joyful cawing ringing out above their heads.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Oh my goodness, it works! The hyperlink! Listen, I'm excited cause I know nothing of technology and I type with one finger.
Anyway, Chapter 16 - Bird With The Broken Wing
(Lots of fluff, I promise. First half of chapter below.)
Glinting fangs pierced through veils of shadowed darkness. They contorted into twisted smiles as blood dripped into streams, which grew into rivers of molten lava. Eyes like burning stars flickered in the distance, their fiery gaze bearing down on Aletheia. They multiplied, expanding into infinity - stars becoming fire, fire becoming blinding heat.
A scream caught in her throat, threatening to tear her apart from the inside out.
Twisting around, red eyes pierced through the veil of smoke, vanishing every time she tried to track their movements. Aletheia tried to reach for her Staff, yet her hands felt limp. She looked down. Thread pierced her hands and feet, while a noose uplifted her head. The strings tugged, lifting her limp arms without any resistance. The noose tugging at her neck drew her gaze upward, out of the dark hole. A massive puppet bracket floated above her, moving her limbs with calculated precision.
She was nothing more than a puppet on a string, devoid of freedom and choice.
A dream. A nightmare. Wake… please.
The laughter of two shadows echoed out, distant, yet close enough to hear the maliciousness of their joy.
“Hybrids. Who would have thought?”
“Forget the Fire. This is the ultimate weapon. This is what we have been searching for.” The words echoed off the walls, masculine and feminine, haunting the recess of her mind with scheming and menacing chuckles.
Eyes settled upon her, watching her like a slave at auction, a mere possession without voice or purpose.
“Daughter of Zeus. Hybrid. What a vile half-breed,” Atlas’ voice rang out, seeming larger than life as he loomed above Aletheia like a giant. “Be careful, Aletheia. Even immortals die. The living dead may walk as we do, but by nightfall, they will sink their teeth into the hearts of those inviting them with promises of eternal life.”
Atlas’s form flickered, his imposing figure fading like a candle’s flame. In its place emerged a shadowed figure - Loki. His silence was more terrifying than any words. He stared at her with unblinking eyes, hand darting forward with serpentine speed. His fingers curled into a fist as they plunged into her chest, and for a brief, agonising moment, she felt his hand twisting inside her.
Her heart - gone. Torn from her body, leaving only a hollow, gaping void. Aletheia stared at the bloody palm Loki held before her; her heart clenched tight within. The tears of blood trickling down his grim face were the last thing she saw before fire engulfed them both.
Aletheia awoke with a strained gasp, untangling her legs from her bed sheets as she sat up. Sweat beaded her forehead, and strands of hair clung to her skin. But more importantly, her heart drummed within her chest - alive and beating . But the memory of the void, the emptiness, still lingered.
A nightmare. Just a nightmare.
Relief flooded her before freezing as she spotted him.
Loki.
He sat at the foot of her bed, eyes reflecting the moonlight like a cat - a predator prowling in the dark. Nyx seemed to accompany his spiel, reflective eyes almost as bright as Loki’s.
“It was just a nightmare. You are safe. Breathe,” Loki’s voice soothed in gentled whispers, guiding her with audible breaths. He sat before her, maintaining enough distance as to not loom above her, but close enough to see the deep concern etched upon his forehead.
Who exactly had she let into her room?
Aletheia reorientated herself – safe within the sanctuary of her bedchambers. Moonlight cast a soft glow into her room, almost comforting in its silver embrace. Loki’s own eyes, previously unsettling, seemed to harbour the glow of the moon, shimmering softly in the darkness alongside his markings. “Are you alright?”
Aletheia regarded Loki with a weariness spurred by fatigue and previous disappointment. “I am well. No need to concern yourself with my welfare.”
Loki seemed taken aback by her words, his hand hovering as if seeking permission to touch her. Yet Aletheia drew the covers over herself, shunting any chance for skin contact. Loki lowered his hand with an almost inaudible sigh. “I get them too – nightmares. Sometimes, I awaken with a cold sweat and strained breath, wondering if I’ve awoken at all.” He looked over Aletheia with gentle eyes, lifting his hand anew to gently rest his palm atop her blanket, firm yet comforting. “Do you wish to speak of it?”
“It’s nothing,” Aletheia whispered, the hostility slowly seeping from her voice as her heartbeat steadied with the understanding that danger was not imminent. “My mind is simply… restless from my time in Hades.”
Loki might be many things – a trickster, a prankster, at times, a crude man, but he was no threat. Not to her. No – he was a friend.
Was.
What he was now – that was the question she had yet to answer. But until she knew for certain it served her best to guard her heart and her trust, lest he melt away her defences like walls of wax. Heaven knew he could, and the look of utter concern and worry carved into his gentle eyes already threatened to undo the makeshift walls she had built.
In truth, the walls seemed to come crumbling down the very moments she first heard the whispered plea of ‘ Angroboda ’ before looking upon the ghost haunting her hopes and dreams, tumbling into her room when she had least expected him.
The events of the night before had seemed like a dream of mere desire, yet they felt so very tangible in Loki’s presence, feeling the soothing strength of his arms as he rubbed her shoulder.
“Why did you only return now? Where were you?” The question tumbled out of her mouth before she had thought it through, yet she had to know. She needed to know why her only friend had forsaken her so suddenly, merely for a crime over which she held no power.
Loki took a weighed breath as he shuffled on Aletheia’s bed to make himself more comfortable. His words were free from lies, only allowing truth to flow from his lips. He shared his predicament about how Havi’s council had voted against him. Aletheia listened quietly without interruption, nodding along as the pieces seemed to click into place within her mind, accepting his words and apologies. But it did not explain one thing. Where had his letters gone?
“…You’re here now… Why return while our nations are at war?”
“I never stopped looking for you, Aletheia. This was my earliest opportunity,” Loki explained, eyes thoughtful as he gazed upon Aletheia with utmost care. “Havi has given me a job. I thought it a chance to seek out your whereabouts.” The question must have been evident in Aletheia’s eyes as Loki continued before she could probe him further.
“Havi sent me. It seems Gullveig has returned – refusing to submit to the shadows I encaged her in.” Loki lowered his gaze briefly, shrugging his shoulders. “It sounds ridiculous, but supposedly, she defeated a beast and almost bested Hades.” He returned his gaze to Aletheia with a sheepish smile as he scratched his head.
Yet the words struck her mute, sitting stiffly in her bed. Cautiously, she tried to conceal her surprise, mind reeling as she considered her options. “I see,” she nodded, taking in Loki’s measure. “Is it true? Did you really eat her heart?”
Loki drew back in response. Tilting his head, he tried to conceal the hurt in his posture and expression. Instead of answering her, he asked a question of his own, seemingly careful to mask the offence in his voice. “What do you think?” Yet, despite his best efforts, imputation seeped into his accusing glare.
Aletheia held his challenging gaze, debating the question within her mind. The Loki she knew would go to any lengths to achieve his goal. Admittedly, it was a part of him she admired, rarely finding herself surrounded by Isu who offered their all to achieve their goal. Unlike other Isu, Loki chased after his objectives, rather than awaiting his dues with a sense of entitlement.
“I believe you are a man who will do anything to achieve his goal by any means necessary…” The look on Loki’s face stung her, feeling the betrayal seeping from his body before she had the chance to finish her observations.
“That said, you think outside the box, seeking ever more creative solutions to your problems. Eating a heart is a bold solution, and if you did so, it would only have been as a last resort. But I believe you found a better way to entrap her.”
Loki quirked a brow before lowering his gaze. Softly, he admitted, “I did not eat her heart, lest I be no different from my own father. At least not physically. But I do keep her hugr with me.” Loki frowned slightly at himself as he rose from the bed, stepping over to his discarded armour to rummage through his sparse belongings.
“This is the Heart,” he whispered, as if speaking too loudly might awaken its essence. “It bought me my freedom, my life, and my blood-oath.” He sat back on the edge of the bed, tossing the Piece of Eden in the air before catching it repeatedly, like a juggler warming up for their act. Chuckling drily, he looked over the crimson Orb, its vibrations humming softly in his palm. “I have an ego that needs feeding, and this Heart sates me well…”
Aletheia watched in stunned silence, eyes tracing over the golden veins pulsing against the crimson glow of the Heart. He had shown her this artifact before, at the meeting with Poseidon. At the time, she had not realised that he meant the word ‘Heart’ literally.
Loki tossed the Orb back to his belongings with a shrug, gaze averted. “I cannot be other than who I am. Fate has written this saga for me.” A short pause interrupted his thoughts as he turned to face her, a hopeful smile dancing across his eyes. “Yet… you have glimpsed this darkness in a tapestry of many colours, and stuck at my side nonetheless…”
There was much to unpack within Loki’s words and body language, yet Aletheia’s mind circled back to her most pressing predicament. Loki may not have eaten Gullveig, but he dispensed an immortal with ease. And he could do so again.
“You are an Isu. I would be more surprised if you did not have an ego to feed. But your perception of Fate is rather convenient, isn’t it? Serving as a mere justification for your actions,” She scolded softly.
Aletheia wondered if Loki knew what a Diplomat was supposed to be. Was he even a Diplomat? Or was it a mere ruse? All evidence pointed towards him being a bounty hunter or murder-for-hire. Yet her heart screamed differently, clashing with the fears of her mind.
Sooner or later, Loki would realise that his new target sat before him.
Loki studied Aletheia with a nonchalant rebuttal. “Am I to attribute blame to myself then? I merely walk the path Fate has assigned me. I do not seek to manipulate it for my own gains, but if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll be poised to strike.”
Aletheia shook her head softly. Loki’s words seemed a contradiction. The nightmare was still fresh on her mind, and the dark shadows of her room seemed rather threatening tonight.
But… this was Loki. He would not hurt her. He had cared more than any other and gone further than any other Isu ever dared. Aletheia realised then that she had already made her decision before she’d ever asked the question.
“You have returned for ‘Gullveig’s’ heart.” Aletheia clasped Loki’s chin with her palm, forcing him to face her as her other hand guided their intertwined hands to her beating heart. “Here it is,” she whispered, feeling her heart pounding faster against the touch of Loki’s palm.
There was something liberating in choosing for herself – herself only. Liberation lay in choosing to forgive, to trust, and submit her life, not knowing what this act would be met with. Would it be love? Betrayal? Nothing? She would accept the result because it was her action driving the narrative. It was her power to start anew and find liberation in the beauty of the unknown uncertainties of life.
What he did with her heart, well, that was up to him now.
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The words spun within Loki’s mind, reeling on an endless loop, yet they failed to provide meaning and context. They made no sense. Loki’s eyes blinked slowly before rising to meet Aletheia’s with visible confusion.
“You?” Doubt strained his vocals. “You are immortal? You fought the beast?” Gently, Loki’s fingers traced soothing circles over her chest, tender and delicate in his touch.
He leaned in closer as he searched her for scars, fingers trembling slightly upon her skin. Her heart seemed to beat stronger at his proximity, soothing his weary soul with its strong rhythm. Softly, his eyes fell shut, hardly hearing Aletheia’s response as his mind drifted with the sound of her grounding heartbeat.
Immortal. A dream shared . If she was immortal, no one, no one , could hurt her . Not Havi, but more importantly, not even himself. The vision of death and defeat had been mere lies – prophecies spun of mere insecurities.
“You… you have no idea what a relief this is,” Loki admitted with awed whispers. “No one can hurt you. Ever.”
Loki lifted his head again, his fingers brushing through Aletheia’s loose curls, marvelling at the softness of her silken hair. He had never touched human hair before. All Asgardian humans and criminals wore their heads shorn. Curiously, he wondered if this softness was unique to Aletheia or if it was a human trait inherited into her genes.
“Safe? I am scared Loki.” Aletheia shook her head, a weightiness clinging to the strain in her voice. “I never asked for this. I nearly killed my uncle, Hades.” Her gaze drifted as she watched Loki play with her hair. “Besides, not even an immortal is safe. You, for one, know how to kill an immortal.”
Her eyes seemed to plead for something, though Loki was not quite sure what assurances she sought. Yet he could sense her masked anxiety, swallowing the premature joy to acknowledge her concerns.
“Which also means I know how to protect an immortal,” Loki assured more sternly, gaze narrowing as he intended to convey a silent promise in his words. “No one will hurt you. No one will touch you. I swear it.”
Aletheia’s brows met quizzically. “What of your mission? You, the diplomat who acts more as a bounty hunter than a harbinger of peace and treaty. Is it not your task to return to Asgard with my heart?”
He had left her once before, for too stupid a reason – never again would he make that mistake. Time apart had indeed shown him where his priorities lie – and they lay right in front of him, curtained in fierce fire.
A grin spread across Loki’s features as he sat straighter with confidence. “Oh, make no mistake Aletheia. I came for your heart, and I am not leaving without it.”
“I do not understand…” Aletheia deflated, the confusion evident in her slouched body language. She pulled her knees against her chest, forcing Loki to remove his hand as she shifted before him.
He nudged her gently, taking her hand in his and guiding it to rest against his chest.
His heart drummed strong and unwavering against the confines of its prison. “You stole my heart,” Loki barely whispered, reverence showering his words. “As a Judge, surely you understand that the only fair compensation is to give me yours in return.”
Aletheia’s chuckle seemed to come with some relief, a rosy blush gracing her cheeks. “Self-defence. You trespassed upon my dwelling. How else was I to disarm you?”
Humour was not necessarily the answer Loki had expected… but hearing her laughter compensated for the lack of acceptance or acknowledgement of his bare feelings.
Aletheia readjusted herself on her bed before resting her head against Loki’s chest, sighing deeply as he lowered his own head onto hers. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her with a promise of safety.
They held each other’s embrace for a stolen moment, with Loki wishing to be frozen in time. Aletheia’s breath slowly steadied in his arms, gently placing her back against her pillow. Loki studied her with growing fatigue, not understanding how or why she was immortal – yet he did not care. All that mattered was that she was safe from the cruel weaves of Fate. The sight was one he could get used to, softly working up the courage to confide his feelings – tomorrow. Tomorrow could be the day.
He quietly laid down beside her, voice hushed as his lips quivered and trembled at the power contained within mere words.
“I love you, Angroboda.”
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Aletheia rustled in her sheets as the very first rays of golden dawn seeped softly into her room, bathing her suit in the warm glow of a promising day. The events of the night before had seemed like a dream of mere desire as she stretched softly before glancing over to the other side of her bed.
There, sprawled in a tangle of her sheets, lay Loki. Splayed on his belly, his chest rose and fell with the rhythmic hum of deep slumber. His face was almost entirely obscured by his locks of hair as he rested on his arms. The pillow previously at the head of the bed had somehow found itself beneath his bent knee. The sight earned a silent chuckle, suppressing her amusement to avoid spoiling Loki’s slumber.
Despite all concerns, she had found her truest rest in the embrace of Loki’s arms.
Her heart started beating slightly faster as she recalled the events of the previous night, simultaneously filled with joy, anxiety and dread. Aletheia sat up in bed, sheets rustling softly as she looked upon the serene face beside her.
As silently as she could muster, Aletheia rose to her feet, taking her first steps past Loki. She could have sworn she had not made a sound, yet Loki stirred with a soft grunt, shifting on the bed before he lifted his head with half-open eyes, the sleepy haze in his gaze clearing as his lips parted upon the sight of Aletheia.
“Angroboda,” he whispered, vocals deep and thick with morning gruffness. “Not a dream, I hope…”
She smiled slightly, whispering back apologetically, “It’s me – our dreaming hours are over. Sorry for awakening you.” The husk deepness of his voice had caught her by surprise, averting her gaze as Loki’s sleepy eyes grew bolder with their mischievous glint.
“I think the dream is only just beginning,” Loki murmured, rolling onto his back to look up at her more clearly.
The early rays of golden sun danced over half of Loki’s face, painting his tan skin in its golden glow. Cast in this light, it appeared as if his skin itself were crafted from the finest bronze, like a masterful statue. The other half of his face remained in shadow, cool tones sharpening his features. There was something almost poetic about the contrast, like a dichotomy come to life.
Aletheia lowered herself on the bed beside him, her loose hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned over Loki with a warm smile.
All the while, Loki’s eyes never left hers. Within them swirled the icy howl of winter, turbulent and unpredictable as a snowstorm - yet there was beauty in the chaos of this storm.
Loki’s lips parted slightly, whispered awes seemingly escaping the fullness of his lips as he sought out words. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, drawing closer until the warmth of his breath could be felt against her skin, chasing away the crispness of morning. “You are so beautiful… not even elves plucked straight from the skies could compare to your splendour.” All the while, they never lost eye contact, intermingled in a dance of hope and desire, fearing that pulling away might break the magic of the moment.
The intensity of his gaze, the raw admiration in his voice, made her feel vulnerable yet cherished in a way that left Aletheia speechless. A heavy swallow followed as Aletheia sought words of her own, yet found no match, no way to express herself in words with the same ease as Loki did. “High praise from a man with your form. Thank you.”
Loki’s lips tugged into a smile, broad and warm, as his gaze remained on Aletheia. “If I could freeze time and re-live only one moment, it might be this. Yet doing so would risk many more such mornings, for this is a sight I wish to behold all my days – and could never tire of.”
Aletheia felt a flush of heat creep up her cheeks, averting her gaze bashfully. All fears of the previous night washed away with the promise of his words. It was a world of wishes, perhaps, but very much a world she wished to be a part of.
Loki sat up, creating a little more space between them, though the air still felt charged with unspoken feelings. “Forgive me if I spoke out of turn,” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with a hint of self-consciousness. “My waking mind still drifts between the blurred lines of dreams and reality.”
“It was not out of turn,” Aletheia assured. “It’s just that… I do not know how to express myself as easily as you do.”
Loki nodded in understanding, his expression gentle. He rose to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, muscles flexing beneath his body-hugging nano-netting as he moved. Aletheia tried to keep her eyes respectful, but the way Loki’s side-eye and smirk caught her made it clear he didn’t mind the attention.
“I am sorry for falling asleep in your bed despite my lack of grooming,” Loki grumbled, more to himself than her, fingers tracing over the stubble lining his jaw. “I have burdened you long enough with the scent of grime and war.” His eyes glinted as he looked back upon her with a soft grin. “Do you know of any secluded places where a fugitive might enjoy a proper swim?”
She chuckled, appreciating the mischief in his tone. “I think I know just the place.”
A/N: Full chapter on AO3. Work's busy, but I'll try to update every 2 - 3 weeks, as usual. Also I really loved writing this chapter. :D can't believe it took me 90'000 words to finally get to the fluff I wanted to write xD.
Had a bit of troubles with chapter 8 of Misplaced Hearts. (Spoilers if you haven't read it but plan to).
My Beta reader was annoyed that Loki didn't eat the heart, and said that the prologue already confirmed he had. But that's not the case. The only reference of him eating the heart is when Shaun's directly quoting the Edda. Basim never confirmed or denied eating it - he actually dodged the question like bullets instead. It just made more sense for me to present it as a mind-battle and Isu bullshit. It seemed more in character to me.
I wish I knew whether this resolution is better, or if I should have stuck to the Edda. The minior cannibalism warning was always supposed to be for Lycaon and the werewolf stuff, but now I fear I raised expectations for something that never happened.
