I decided to go back and add a little forward to the start of Loki but he’s Tam Lin (working title) and I’m fairly pleased with it, so you can have the whole thing.
At the joining of the two worlds, there is a wood through which two rivers run. They cross only once, and only on the shared banks of both waters can the leaves of lethe grow fertile.
The plant itself is for forgetting, but the seeds hold the memory, affix it in the mind. They are sought after by the old and forgetful, those who have been injured, and those who fear for a time when all that they know will disappear.
There, at the rivers' cross, a hero is at a very different crossing-- the end of one quest, and the start of another.
For he is of one world, and the seeds he is after are guarded by a creature of the other, and they, like the rivers, were destined one day to meet.
As for folks to tag, uh-- @portraitoftheoddity @bigsciencybrain and @ anyone else currently writing something. Yeah you, I see you.
I am a bad person with bad taste, so my prompt is for an AU wherein Loki and Bucky meet by chance sometime between the 1940s-80s. (Whether he’s still Bucky or the Winter Soldier is up to you!) xx
Not bad at all! And here it is, sorry for the delay!The time is handwavy and Bucky’s identity is also– *wiggles fingers* but hey! Have a small thing.
Spells weren’t perfect. Loki knew this.
He had come to Midgard on a search for his uncle; the brother that he was compared to, as Odin and Thor were deemed perfectly alike– but Odin’s brother, Cul… the man Loki had heard whispers of, and nothing more– he was hidden somewhere here, on Midgard.
Locked away to be forgotten.
And Loki wanted to know why. Why his name had been stricken from the records, why his name was hissed at Loki’s back– an omen, a curse, a warning.
Loki wanted to know what he was doing so wrong as to be deemed to have a similar fate awaiting him.
So he’d devised a spell, to find him.
Spells cared naught for names, and Loki had no face that he could focus on, Cul’s exile having come about before either he or Thor was born. And there were no portraits, no proof that he had ever existed. Save the laws that ensured that was the way it should be.
So he created parameters: A spell to find a man whose name was never spoken; a man who few knew of, and all who knew him feared. A man hidden from the world. A powerful man, older than he seemed, who did not age by mortal standards.
It should have worked.
But spells weren’t perfect.
The man it brought him to instead was not expecting him. He was expecting something else, though, as evidenced by the six rounds he managed to fire before Loki had even opened his mouth.
“Not goin’ back.” The man said firmly, gun still leveled at Loki, despite the fact that none of his bullets had penetrated Loki’s shields.
“I wouldn’t dream of making you.” Loki told him evenly, unsure where ‘back’ even was. “Just to be certain– you aren’t Cul, are you?”
But he couldn’t be. He was, distinctly, human. Despite the augmentations he boasted.
The man stared him down, and frowned.
“I don’t know. You’re not Russian.”
“No.” Loki said, the word almost lazy, though he himself was frankly intrigued.
“Do you not know who you are?”
“Asset.” The man told him. “And something else. Been awake too long. Handler got taken out.”
Loki was unsure what the majority of that meant.
“Perhaps sleep will help you, then?”
The guy nodded and took a step forward.
“Our position is compromised. Shooting,” he explained, almost apologetically, Loki thought.
“…Yes.” He answered, slowly.
“This way.” The man said, turning away and obviously expecting to be followed. He barely broke his stride to lift a bag that sounded as if it were filled with nothing but more weapons, then headed deeper into the building.
Loki considered for the space of a moment.
His spell hadn’t worked. He had no idea where on Midgard he was, and to get here he’d had to slip between worlds and slip past Heimdall’s ever watchful eye.
It would not last. In the meantime, though, why not?
It wasn’t as if the man could hurt him, nor did he seem particularly inclined, now that Loki was not surprising him. In fact, he seemed to have accepted Loki fairly quickly, once he’d ascertained that he wasn’t working to capture him. Not particularly communicative, but that was alright. It made him more of a mystery, more interesting. And it made up Loki’s mind.
He followed.
The man led him to a fire escape, down a ladder, and into an alley, and Loki followed gamely, if a bit bemused by all of this.
“Where are we going?” Loki asked, and the man turned to glare at him, raised one hand to his lips, and pointed upwards vaguely.
Their own version of Heimdall? Loki wondered. He didn’t ask, though, instead resuming walking when the man flicked his metal fingers forward, obviously picking a direction.
They moved, silently, for about 40 minutes, looping in a circle once or twice, Loki assumed, so the man could be certain they were not being followed.
Eventually, he found his way to where they had been headed, opened a basement window, and slid inside, holding the window open for Loki to do the same.
He did, loathe as he was to lay on the ground to do so.
Once the window was closed behind them, the man flipped on some lights and nodded.
“Emptied this safehouse a week ago, left clues to make it look like I was leaving the country. They left three days ago. Won’t be back for a while. Should be safe here, for now.”
He looked around the room, then slid a shelf aside, opened a panel, and flipped a switch.
Metal covers engaged, and Loki realized with a start that they were locked in, and the rest of the world locked out.
“Why have you brought me here?” he asked, careful not to anger the man.
“Sleep?” He said, head cocking to the side. “You said… might help.”
Loki looked around, not seeing anything that looked particularly like a bed.
“Right. But my role in this?” He asked, and the man tilted his head to the opposite side.
“Keep watch.” He told him frankly, and with that he pulled out his gun, turned it, and offered it to Loki.
Loki took it gingerly, not entirely sure how such things worked.
“Ah.” He said. “Right.”
He had no idea what, in this man’s mind, qualified him as trustworthy enough to watch over him while he slept, considering he knew nothing of Loki save that he was ‘not Russian’.
Apparently that would do, though, because the man was already curling up, his bag of supplies functioning like a pillow, and his body laid out on the cold concrete as if he had never experienced anything better.
Loki hoisted himself up onto a workbench that leaned against one wall, and frowned, trying to puzzle through this dilemma.
This trip– and that spell– were a wash. That much was certain. He needed to rework it, to research further, find out more about Cul before he would have any chance of finding him. His search was, as of yet, entirely too broad.
As for this new Midgardian pet he seemed to have picked up–
And that was it, wasn’t it? The man reminded him somewhat of a dog, from the way he cocked his head to the way he strained his ears, eyes chasing shadows. Not a hunting dog, nor a lady’s toy, but the sort that had been kicked around. Wary, hungry…
Tired.
And he was, even now, twitching on the floor. Running in a sleep that by all rights he should barely have had time to fall into.
Loki let him run.
If the man needed sleep and these dreams came that swiftly, the kindest thing to do was let him reach the other side of them. Dreams such as those waited for you to return to sleep, to play themselves out.
The good ones were rarely so polite.
Eventually he stilled, though his twitching was still sometimes violent. He seemed to stay solidly asleep through all of it, and though Loki hadn’t meant to actually keep watch over him, he found himself doing it just the same.
The arm was strange, at once clumsy and elegant. Strong and well designed, but created in such a way that he was certain it caused the man pain. It seemed too heavy for his body, too big by a bit. He was muscular, yes, but his other side didn’t quite match. And it was– it didn’t always react the way he expected it to, it seemed. Like sometimes he forgot it was made of metal.
Loki watched as he smacked himself in the face with that hand, and what might be batting at a fly for anyone else left a huge, dark bruise that blossomed across his face, and then faded almost as quickly as it had come.
He was very far from the mortals Loki had encountered here before and he wasn’t sure if he was the norm now, or if he was something wholly different for this world.
He suspected it was the latter, though, or the parameters of the spell that Loki had cast would not have singled him out. And no matter how exceptional the man, being unable to sleep without guard and being alone was not something he could sustain indefinitely.
Loki would give him this one night’s respite. He would ask what questions he could, and then he would return home, ape a bit about his reasons for going to midgard, maybe imply that he’d taken a lover or three, and work on reshaping his spell.
In fact, it seemed he had much of a night left to do that now; and why not?
He conjured his journal and took up a pen, beginning to list things he might do to better locate his uncle.
They were tied together by blood, after all; that surely had to count for something. Even if he had been warned, time and again, against attempting bloodwork. Other sorcerers and mages did it all the time. Royal blood couldn’t be so special, so different…
He passed hours making notes.
Hours enough that, absorbed, he did not immediately notice when the man rose, jumping slightly when he approached.
“Who are you looking for?” He asked, voice rusty and rougher, if possible, than the night before. However, he seemed a bit more…cognizant.
“My uncle. He was sent away from my home before I was born. I have reason to believe he is hiding nearby, or perhaps imprisoned. Our records were not clear.”
The man looked surprised, then pleased.
“You’re here to rescue him?”
Loki pursed his lips. He hadn’t thought that far ahead; of course he couldn’t bring Cul back with him.
“Perhaps. I want to talk to him, find out his version of what happened. I’ll decide from there if he deserves my help.”
Though there was a distinct line between breaking a few rules to talk to a banished relative and outright treason.
Fortunately, Loki was fairly good at balancing along such lines. And that was one balancing act he would worry about when he came to it.
Still, if anything his answer only seemed to please the man further. He nodded, satisfied.
“You remind me of someone.” He said, then his face fell and his brow furrowed, clearly trying to remember who.
Perhaps someone he hoped would rescue him.
“And who is it you’re looking for?” Loki asked gently, and the man tilted his head, looking almost as if he were listening for something, until his face went blank and he straightened up again.
“Handler.” He said simply.
Loki couldn’t claim to understand.
“And who is that?” he asked.
The man frowned.
“You?” Doubt crept into his voice, and he lost that emotionless look, the mask crumbling only moments after first appearing.
“No.” Loki said firmly. “I will have to leave soon, I’m not… whoever it is you’re looking for.”
If the man was disappointed, he hid it well.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Loki repeated. “So. You have slept. Do you feel better for it?”
The man flexed his hands, looking down over himself.
“Yes. For now. Thank you.”
Loki inclined his head.
“So what is next?”
The man frowned again, then slumped a little, his posture sagging.
“Run. Hide. Long as I can.”
“Is there no way to escape their reach?” He asked.
The man shook his head.
“They’re everywhere, all over the world. I can hide for a while but… I think I’ve done this before. I think I’ve failed before.”
Loki watched him, then made a split second decision.
He wasn’t human, exactly, and even if he were… if he claimed asylum, and Loki granted it, as Prince of Asgard, he thought he would be able to keep him safe. None would force him to break an oath, after all.
“Come with me.” he said. “I will take you where they cannot follow. You will have as much sleep as you like and… maybe you will be able to aid me on my search, and if you recall who you are looking for, I may yet aid you in yours.”
The man’s face smoothed again, and his lips twitched upwards at the corners.
“Yeah? Alright. I’m with you–” He trailed off, brow creasing and words fading. Loki waited, but he just shook himself and shrugged.
He hefted his bagonto his back, retracted the metal, and nodded.
“Where are we going?” He asked, as they climbed out of the holding. Loki gestured, dropping his spell to hide him from Heimdall’s gaze, and took hold of the man.
“Asgard.” he told him. “I suppose you’ll need a name, though. What did you say you were called?”
“Asset.” The man answered promptly. “Or, The Winter Soldier.”
“Hm.” Loki said. “We’ll work on it. Heimdall?” And like that, the sky opened, and the fate of the Soldier was changed.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Loki/Steve Rogers
Characters: Loki, Steve Rogers
Additional Tags: Ghosts, Rating subject to change, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Magic, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Summary:
Loki accidentally summons the spirit of a strapping soldier to Asgard. How and why are something they're trying to figure out, but in the mean time, they're stuck with one another.
Loki being "trained" by Thanos, pre-invasion (LT verse) ?
No Little Talks update today, but hey, how about a sort-of AU prequel? I could do a lot more of this, but it was getting long as it was, and I’m running out of steam for this tone atm. So…. Ta daaa~
The time he spent at Thanos’s side was odd– like a single conversation, circular, undulating, interrupted but unending.
Oh, he knew he was unimportant, but with Thanos’s attention on him, he could not help but feel that he was.
And it seemed that Thanos’s attention was on him always, more omnipresent and possessive than Heimdall’s gaze, the weight of his presence heavier for the power behind it.
Loki felt like a leech, feeding from that power, attempting to absorb some of it, to grow, once more in the shadow of a greater man than himself, but this time was different, this time– Thanos liked him, pitied him– wanted to help him. And all Loki had to do was accept that help.
So he did; over and over. And again and again he found himself bound, the chair he was on floating, as much of this world did; bits and pieces of long since ruined grandeur drifting across the landscape. Ghosts of the home that Thanos had crushed in his fist. And in Loki’s mind, he could picture Asgard much the same.
The deep pit that had once been his heart now held a spark of something dark and brilliant, an ugly burning thing that held no gentleness, no love of home nor person.
And with each test, that flame was fanned a little higher.
Someday soon, he would look inward and be able to see the bottom of that void, the one within him a reflection of the one he’d fallen through to get here.
And he wasn’t certain he’d like what he would see.
And when Thanos saw, when He burrowed as deeply into Loki’s veins as possible, if He judged Loki to be unworthy…
Loki had no illusions about what would become of him then.
“Loki!” Frigga called, rushing forward, Thor by her side and Odin watching dispassionately from his place on Hlidskjalf. “My son, you’ve returned!”
He reached towards her and the pleased smile slid from her face. He’d never seen so vicious an expression there before, but he recognized it well enough; he’d worn it more than once.
“You should not have.” She informed him coolly.
And then Thor launched himself at him. He tore Loki’s arm from his socket, and Loki could feel ripples of that pain everywhere– more than he should have. He snarled and regained his feet, launching himself forward with a knife in his one hand and teeth bared, despite the blood flow.
Thor swung at him with his own arm, and he would have laughed had he been less focused on Odin, on the way his expression hadn’t wavered or changed.
Loki managed to charge up the steps of the dias, his blade out, and when Odin swung Gungnir down, Loki continued forward, impaling himself on it and approaching still, the spear emerging beside his spine and feeling like burning, like poison, the torn skin nothing next to the acid that was eating away at him now from inside. The polished round of the shaft that followed, cool and smooth, was almost a relief in its wake. But despite the noise of the hall around him– the screams of the people of Asgard, the rush of boots and armor, when Odin spoke, his soft words rang in Loki’s ears and ripped the very breath from his lungs.
“No, Loki. you’re not worthy of such a death.”
And like that, it ended. He was ripped from the dream, the world– the test. His arm was where it belonged, though he still felt the pain as if it had been real, and the hole he’d made in himself– he could feel the edges of it bleeding, though he knew if he looked, the skin would be unmarred.
“You were slow. And weak. Try again.” Thanos said, and Loki pulled at his chains, the reaction one of an animal, without a thinking mind attached, but then The Other’s hands lowered over his face and Loki screamed and then he was–
–falling.
He landed, face first, in the jungles outside of the capital of Vanaheim. He had spent many warm seasons here as a young man- knew these wilds well. Knew how unlikely he was to meet any others.
“Loki!” Thor called, and Loki winced, preparing himself for the pain of a hammer or his hands on him, preparing for a fight. But the fight did not come.
“Brother, come! Sif has tracked a boar. We dine well this night!”
Thor waved his arm and charged away, and Loki was left confused.
What was he meant to be doing? Heading to the capital? Was he meant to take Vanaheim for his Master? Was he meant to– but all of that felt like a dream now, growing more hazy the longer he stood. And when Fandral clapped him on the shoulder as he ran past, Loki immediately moved to follow him.
“If we don’t hurry, Volstagg will have eaten it all before we’ve a chance to so much as build a fire!”
Loki laughed at that, speeding along, and when he reached them he stopped, dead in his tracks.
Sif and Thor, between them, carried a strong sapling, upon which dangled, trussed, naked and bleeding, Odin Allfather.
“I did say she’d tracked a bore, did I not? And the greatest of them at that!” Thor said, laughing. Loki’s stomach flipped.
“And you mean to… eat him? Your father?”
“Our father!” Thor protested, though he sounded playful. “Do not forget who raised you to be as you are now.”
Loki’s nostrils flared as he smelled smoke, and saw the fire that Hogun had built, with Volstagg and Fandral erecting poles to support the spit with.
Odin stared, his good eye unfocused and blood dripping from his head, misshapen by Thor’s hammer. He didn’t seem to know what was happening, and even if he did… he was gagged, what Loki had originally taken for rope instead his own entrails, streaming from his stomach and wrapped around his head.
Sif looked at Loki, viciously proud and as smug as he had ever seen her.
“What, have you developed a weakness for the poor thing?” She asked, snide mockery dripping from her lips.
This was wrong, Loki realized. He’d been here before– they’d had this conversation, but about a real boar.
And now, just as then, he was too much a coward to stop them slinging the spit over the fire.
Odin’s beard caught near immediately and burned away, his panicked cries the first sound he made. A sound Loki had never heard his father make.
“Odin Borsson, you were a worthy hunt.” Thor told him seriously.
This he’d done once, to try and make the death of the creature easier on Loki. It had been his first hunt, and he knew what came next.
“Let me.” he found his tongue and stepped forward, hand outstretched for the blade. “I did not get to track him, let me slit his throat.”
This had not been part of it before, but Loki remembered now who was watching. Knew what he was meant to be doing.
Thor pressed the knife into his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, proud of his younger brother, proud to let Loki take this honor, as undeserving of it as he was. Unworthy.
Loki stood, considering Odin as he burned, an with no hesitation turned and slit Thor’s throat instead, leaving the dagger where it lay, embedded in his neck, and reversed, pulling Sif’s sword from where it hung, sheathed in the inside of her shield. With two quick motions, he brought it up and through her, twisting to free it as he pulled away an rounded to face the Warriors Three.
Hogun crouched still, and Fandral looked shocked, but Volstagg merely laughed.
“I never thought you had it in you, little prince!”
“What?” Loki asked, confused by this, too.
Volstagg gestured.
“End his misery now, and Asgard is yours. My King.” He knelt, and Loki looked back to the fire, where Odin’s skin had begun to bubble and peel, the sounds of his shrieks an cries ragged and raspy, no longer as loud. Loki didn’t know when he had ceased to hear them.
He raised his sword, drew it across Odin’s throat–
And felt as Fandral’s rapier bit into him, as Volstagg crushed his throat in his large hands until he was dead, lifeless. And even still he stared from behind his eyes, felt as he was tossed into the fire, one more log to serve as Odin’s pyre.
“Long live the King,” Hogun murmured, and as Loki’s mind writhed in the agony of the flames, he listened as the warriors three laughed and drank, speaking of nothing of consequence until the fire devoured his every sense, and he jolted back to wakefulness, again under the hands of The Other and the watchful eye of his Master.
“Too trusting. Still so weak. Come, walk with me for a time.”
Thanos gestured and his daughters sprung forward to free Loki from his bounds.
He stretched, rolled his head on his neck, and stood, unable to trust his knees to bear his weight.
Thanos seemed not to notice, or at least didn’t comment, for which Loki was grateful.
“I want to believe in you,” Thanos told him. “You have such potential, such ambition. But you have been allowed to be soft, to grow these fears that hold you back. You realize that in order to be worthy of leading, I have to undo those bad learnings, don’t you?”
He glanced back and down, where Loki struggled to keep pace with him.
“Yes, of course.” Loki answered. “I had a different purpose before, it only makes sense that I need to learn how to properly… fit. In my new place.”
Thanos nodded, smiling, and Loki smiled back, glad that he had said something right.
“Good. We will continue your training. And you will grow stronger, more sure of yourself. You will cease to hesitate, cease to be confused. You will know what to do and when to do it, and then… then I will outfit you with a weapon beyond your wildest dreams. The better version of the ridiculous mallet that brother of yours swings around. Something more powerful, more precise. Better suited to you. When you’re ready.”
Loki nodded, and didn’t ask or try to guess when that would be. They both knew he had a lot of work to do before then.
At first, it was always Asgard, his own family who he was sent to kill. Or, at least, the family that raised him.
Slowly, they branched outwards. Jotunheim. Musphelheim. One by one, each of the realms were turned into a test, over and over until he could kill regardless of who stood before him. He lost count of the number of times he watched the light fade from Thor’s eyes, or heard the last breath as it escaped from Frigga’s lips.
He did not examine too closely his tendency to reserve the cruelest of deaths for Odin; he knew where the blame for him lay. And then he grew worse; conquering without killing them, instead forcing them to watch as he twisted everything they loved and built it in his image.
Thor especially– when Loki was first sent to Midgard, he made good on every threat he’d made, fighting Thor on the bifrost, and then some.
Wicked, cruel things that he had never thought himself capable of, he did without so much as blinking.
And that was when Thanos decided to raise the stakes.
“You never truly forget where you are, do you?” He asked one day, the two of them sitting and watching his daughters spar.
Loki was glad not to have been asked to join them; the two were ruthless, his favorites always pitted against one another, since either could and would kill any of the rest.
The little blue one always lost, and the next time Loki saw her, a bit more of her was gone, replaced with stronger stuff– metal, mostly, though of a make that Loki had never seen, and grafted to bone and skin in a way that could only be painful.
She reminded him of himself, though he’d never put voice to it. Day after day, the longer he was here, the more he could feel pieces of himself being chipped away.
“I never forget whom I serve, if that’s what you mean.” Loki answered, the words smooth and easy.
“But you never fully believe yourself to be in the world we place you in, either. You remember too well. It seems too much like a game, that way– not real enough.”
Loki shivered, the pain he experienced always more than real enough, often compounding and being allowed to build upon itself for days or weeks on end.
He didn’t say that, though.
“I will take it more seriously. How can I prove myself?” He asked instead.
“Just throw yourself in. Let my creature deeper into your mind. Do not seek to hide from me; you know you cannot, anyway. Let us shape you into something better– something worthy of ruling.”
“I will.” He promised, bowing his head and resolving to give him what he wanted, whatever the price.
What Loki gave could not be taken from him, and he had learned that lesson well.
When he lashed out, no longer waiting to tell if it was a dream or a memory or a test, when he lashed out whether he was waking or resting, tied to the chair or approached by one of Thanos’s people… when he had to be chained down with stronger chains and more of them, then, finally, he was given the sceptre. It was everything Thanos had promised, and Loki could feel its power singing through him the moment his fingertips touched the Uru of its shaft. He stared into the swirling blue glow of its stone, and thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.
And what he could do with it…
He made Thor kneel to him, forced him to lead his army. He used it to make a puppet of Asgard’s king, to make him admit his wrongs and praise Loki’s worth, his abilities.
Thanos allowed this, the playacting that he did, with the same amusement as a parent watching a child with a new mount, or some new toy. He thought this was the end of it– that he was ready. That now he would be sent forth to conquer.
But then the real work began.
He conquered Vanaheim, enslaving eighty thousand minds in the process. The people cheered his name, but the celebration was cut short when his eyes were yanked open and his mind stuffed back into his body. It felt like he’d been assembled wrong, an energy buzzing through him that felt like one of Thor’s stray lightning bolts.
“Brute force is your brother’s trick. I expect you to learn elegance and precision. Lean how to topple the keystones to make everything else fall into place at your feet. Rely on the sceptre less nd on your mind more.”
He was sent to Asgard, and he bound Frigga to his side with the force of the sceptre, but somehow Odin stopped him still, and the pain of that failure stayed with him through the next ten realms he was sent to.
His mind felt like it was fracturing under the strain, and he no longer went for walks with Thanos, watched games with Thanos. No longer slept or ate or recovered.
They sent him to Musphelheim, dropped him into an endless field of flame, where he was forced to ensorcel his boots lest the melt to become part of the ground he stood on, and take his feet with them. He wandered, becoming familiar with the landscape in a way that he would never have thought possible before– perhaps this one was real?
The directions in the worlds he was sent to often worked as they did in dreams, a turn and there would be a wall before him, turn back again and it would be gone.
But things here stayed steady, and he thought… he thought for once he tasted freedom. A distance from Thanos’s control.
He didn’t explain, really, what He wanted, what He expected, but Loki know. Destroy what he had to, take what he needed. Conquer, as he must.
Loki bound a group of the largest, most brutish fire demons he could find to his side, despite the effects that had on his body, the blistering and dehydration that resulted in him heaving. But his stomach had been empty for so long now, there was nothing for it to produce.
He won, that time, somehow, and was immediately tossed into the next scenario.
He found himself on Midgard, instantly recognizable for the ugliness of his surroundings, manufactured and clean but plain. As soon as he gained his bearings, he attacked, firing at the man who presented himself as their leader.
The others began to fire at him as he attacked the foot soldiers, and he could not tell if their weapons were useless (he doubted it; Thanos made everything hurt more than it should) or if he’d perhaps finally stopped being able to feel pain (more likely, he thought.)
He took out everyone around, then caught the best of the fighters and tied him to himself with the scepter. So many bodies, so many more dead, but what did it matter? This was like every other time, and when he failed or succeeded, it would end, and the next would start.
So he took his time, tried to be smart about it, like Thanos wanted him to.
Those left standing, he bound to him, until he felt the pull of something– the tesseract– he was supposed to recover it, and any other item of power he came across.
Gifts for Thanos. Tools. He wanted them, needed them, and so Loki did too.
“Please don’t.” Loki said. “I still need that.”
And he took what He needed.
His soldiers, scepter-bound, proved instantly more helpful here than they had ever before, more capable of independent thought, and as they ran from the explosion, Loki stumbled, his eyes widening.
He’d held pain in his body, so much pain, and never had it affected his performance, his abilities. But this…
This time was different.
He clung to their transport vehicle and watched the destruction that they left in their wake.
How about a Loki fell to Earth and not Thor AU, bonus points if it's Stoki :)
Oh man, good shit. There’s a lot of good to be had in this AU. Ok so:
Loki, instead of being rendered silent, interjects on Odin’s lecture with an– “I tried to tell him–” And Odin, furious, throws it back on both of them.
“You will not listen to good advice, Thor, then you’ll lose it. Loki, I am sending you to Midgard until your brother can find the humility to listen before running off to war. And Thor–” He grins, and there’s no humor in it. “You have to face the people you’ve wronged, without the diplomacy of Loki.”
Which is a slap to Loki, too, the way he says it. But it doesn’t matter; it’s all already in motion. Loki crashes to earth. Jane Foster hits him with her van. He ends up in the hospital.
But unlike Thor, he’s got his power left to him. Seidhr is not so easily separated from him as a hammer from its wielder.
So he, in his fear and lack of understanding, probably sets the hospital aflame and makes a run for it. Which, of course, sends SHIELD after him.
Coulson picks him up and Jane protests that he’s a person, the government can’t just disappear him; this isn’t some roswell area fifty-one nonsense. “Funny,” Coulson says, “Because that’s exactly what it’s going to sound like if you tell anyone.”
Jane fumes. The transport van doors close, and the drugs in Loki’s system make his eyes fall shut.
And if not for the fact that it is Coulson who picked him up, he might just have disappeared forever. But as he’s being carted in, Steve Rogers is coming out, and all he sees is some guy, worse for the wear, straight jacketed and suspended in a cage, clearly out of his mind on whatever drugs they have him on, and his stomach does an ugly flip.
“Who is that?” he asks, and Coulson shakes his head.
“Says his name is Loki. He’s an alien. Pretty dangerous; he burned down half a hospital before we managed to catch him.” And that’s all he has time to say before they hustle Loki into a lower holding level.
Steve goes home, mind buzzing about whether there’s even any laws in place to protect someone like that– he starts googling and finds Jane and Darcy’s posts on the subject, and calls them up. Together they decide that magical green fire or no, Loki doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.
Steve does his best to check on Loki, to talk to him, but they’re keeping him pretty heavily sedated. And enough is enough.
So Jane, Darcy, Steve, and against his better judgement, Erik Selvig, help bust Loki out of one of the more secure places on the planet. When he comes to, Loki’s more afraid, confused, and haughty than grateful, but at least he listens and doesn’t burn them all to a crisp. And with Jane’s interest in the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, Loki begins working with her to try and figure out how to get him back. Because surely Odin would reconsider if he only knew the danger Midgard posed.
As for why Heimdall isn’t answering… well, it must have something to do with what Loki saw on Jotunheim. What he’s trying so hard not to think about.Which has everything to do with why he doesn’t sleep. And with Steve on the run, not only from SHIELD but also from his own nightly demons… not sleeping provides plenty of time for the two of them to bond.
Loki knows he needs to get back, to learn if there’s some curse on him, to warn other Asgardians about Midgardian drugs, but… as time wears on, he wants to go back less and less. Let Thor deal with the mess he made with the Frost Giants. The throne will be his no matter what Loki does.
But maybe… maybe Loki’s found something better. He just has to know he won’t ruin it. So when they do construct a working bifrost, he returns to Asgard with Steve in tow to learn the truth.
Steve/Loki - genderswap w/w au? (Though I’m aware that Loki’s canonically genderfluid so I suppose lady loki and girl!steve au) I love your writing so much! 💕
You’d think that being a sickly weak girl would mean Steve had less to prove, but whoooo boy you’d be wrong.
Steph’s not a pretty girl, and she knows it. She’s peaky looking, too thin, too pale, her asthma puts bright red spots on her cheeks and her panting for air would be more attractive if she had a bosom to heave. But she doesn’t concern herself too much with any of that; not when there’s all those worries about how to put food on the table, get her Pa’s medicine, get her own medicine. And then there’s Jamie, rolled her sleeves up and all but jumping for the chance to run off to the front in whatever capacity she can.
Steph’s Pa passes, the rent money dries up, and Jamie’s talking about sending her some cash back from the front, but Steph’s more worried about being left without a single tie to anyone in the world, here in Brooklyn. She could catch a cold and die, and no one would know to look til she stank– and then, no one would know who to tell. She didn’t say as much, but she had a feeling if Jamie took off, they wouldn’t see one another again. Not that she’d ever say as much.
So she tries to figure out what’s to be done, goes looking for work, and comes across some fancy upscale british lady who needs a maid. Steph figures she can manage that; she’d kept their place clean enough that Pa could treat their neighbors when they couldn’t afford to see proper doctors, so she figures she can clean a mansion.
Only that isn’t at all what Lady Loki wants. She wants a girl to get her dressed and brush her hair, run her baths and keep her company. And when Steph hears that at the interview, she’s pretty sure she’s already blown it. She’d showed up all stubborn and defensive, ready to argue that she was capable…
But Loki seems delighted. She hires her on the spot, and Steph moves in before Jamie even ships out. And it’s weird– it’s warm in the winter time, and everything’s soft and nice and clean. And Loki– well, it’s obvious she chose Steph for a reason, because as stubborn and mean as Steph could be, Loki was prickly and meaner, always playing little jokes– though not on Steph. Mostly on the guys who came calling. And Steph’d feel sorry for them, except that she figured anyone who took Loki’s ‘no’ for a ‘try harder’ deserved what was coming to him.
There were some weird things, too. Things Steph figured even a rich person ought to know, and Loki didn’t. Normal every day stuff that she had to teach her. It felt like maybe Loki’s story about who she was and how she’d got there wasn’t necessarily on the up and up, but Steph couldn’t hold it against her; she didn’t even know she was Irish. These little secrets made life easier, like her Pa had said, and Steph thought she was a pretty pragmatic person. Loki was good to her, paid on time and well, and hadn’t murdered anyone yet, so she figured it was an okay set up.
Things were real good, comfortable and nice, even, and Steph was having some real funny thoughts about her boss, when word came back that the company Jamie’d been working with had been snatched up- every one of them. She was presumed dead.
Steph felt like she’d gone numb, and she barely noticed she’d answered in the affirmative when Loki asked if she loved Jamie. She definitely noticed, though, when Loki’s hands started glowing, and she threw something at Steph.
Despite crying, she felt it getting easier to breathe, and the ground started to look a little further away. Looking in the mirror, she saw a stranger- barely familiar, enough that she could tell it was her, but… Loki’d made her pretty. More than that, Loki had made her healthy. Strong. Stronger than someone human had any right to be, for that matter.
Scared, she looked at her boss, who suddenly had armor on.
“What?” She asked, and Loki smiled, looking more dangerous than she had before any prank she’d ever pulled.
“We are going to go and find your Jamie.” She told Steph, words surprisingly gentle. And those weird thoughts Steph had been having before? Apparently leather and fur was a thing for her, and so was the raw confidence and power that Loki could toss around.
And if Loki was acting a little distant, well, she figured she was distracted by the mission– distracted like Steph should be, instead of being distracted by the way Loki’s lips looked when they were dark dark green, almost black, rather than pink or red.
Surely it had nothing to do with Loki thinking Steph was in love with Jamie.
The once golden halls of Asgard have long since been frosted over, and her people are scattered, hiding, mostly, or serving the conquerors who chose to settle there. There are not a great many Frost Giants, and thanks to the casket, they have more than enough realms to sustain their numbers, now. So much space, in fact, that they have made themselves vulnerable by spreading out.
Everyone thinks this, everyone knows that they should fight back. There are treasures encased in the ice, left over from the days of Odin’s bloody triumph. Laufey’s son, the runt, is one of the few who is free to move as he pleases, with no love of family and no eye towards maintaining his peoples’ stranglehold on the land. They had abandoned him, and if not for his being found and brought to Asgard, nursed to health by the Queen, he would be dead. He was reclaimed when Asgard fell, but he had time to grow some, to learn his truth. To learn to hate those like him.
The royal family, Odin and Frigga, remain caged in Laufey’s castle, but it is known that their son escaped to Midgard, intending to defend it, though it’s likely he arrived too late.
Loki knows that the people of Asgard could rally behind him. He knows, too, that there is an artifact on another realm that would be able to melt through his father’s great frozen heart– surtur’s sword. But he cannot wield it.
And so he goes to Midgard in search of Thor. He knows only that his is large, blonde, and worthy. Unfortunately, Midgard seems to have two of those. He takes them both, just in case. And on a frozen plain that was once full of life and grain, he explains his plan to free all of their realms from the Jotnar.
I don’t know if this counts an au and I don’t know if you’re still doing asks, but: Loki/Steve + endearments/pet names au???? (Thanks either way!! 💕)
Even if it’s not an AU in the traditional sense, I’m counting it because every fanfic is its own alternate universe. And JSYK I’m always accepting prompts, meme or no! <3 Nicknames flow out of Tony’s mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Heck, her name’s not really Pepper, but that’s how everyone, the whole world, knows her. Every time Clint calls home, his end of the conversation is liberally sprinkled with, ‘babe’ and ‘darlin’s.And even on the opposite end of the spectrum, Steve’d heard Bruce murmuring to Betty a quiet ‘thanks sweetheart’ when he thought they were alone, and Natasha– often the most stoic of all of them– called Bucky ‘Mili Moi’ and ‘Yasha’ and ‘Moye Serdtse’, and he’d call her ‘Natalia’ ‘Tasha’ ‘Doll’ ‘Tsarina’… or one of a hundred other things.
It wasn’t that people didn’t have nicknames and endearments for one another when he was growing up. It just… all of those relationships involve a girl. And with his dad dying early on, he didn’t know what people called their fellas.
Particularly if you were a fella yourself.
It wasn’t like he was missing anything, he knew– their relationship was the same no matter what they called one another, and Loki was great no matter what. But… he wondered if it was something they just didn’t do on Asgard.
He had his head on Loki’s chest, tracing absent lines over his shoulder, when he asked about it.
“Do you ever call people things back on Asgard? Things that aren’t their names?” He could feel himself flushing even as the words left his mouth, and he could see the way Loki’s brow and lips both quirked upwards.
“I have often called Thor ‘idiot’ or ‘fool’ or ‘ruffian’.” He offered, and Steve laughed softly.
“Oh, uh. Okay.” He said, letting it drop. Loki, though, wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.
“Why do you ask?” He pressed.
Steve shook his head. “I didn’t mean that, exactly. It’s just… I don’t know, maybe it’s a weird earth thing. But here when you care about someone… sometimes you don’t call them by their name. You call them by something… softer, I guess.” He shrugged as best as he could. “It’s no big deal. I just wondered if you had anything like that.”
“Ahh.” Loki said, and it sounded almost like a sigh. His cool fingers found Steve’s chin and he made him look upwards until he could meet his eyes.
“I might call you elskan, which is my love. Or I might call you Astin min, which is much the same. Saeti speaks of you as- like honey– sweet. Hjartad mitt would be my heart. All of these would apply to you, of course, but they are not your words. And as the purpose is not to… push you away, by using something you wouldn’t understand, I’ve… refrained. Is there something you’d like me to call you?”
Loki looked concerned, like he’d done something wrong. The words he listed off were musical; strange, sure, but beautiful, too. Steve felt his heart swelling.
“I love you,” he told him, lifting himself up to be able to kiss him. “And I don’t have any words that fit for… for a relationship like ours. Yours are perfect, if you want to use them.” He placed another kiss on Loki’s lips. “You just have to help me learn. So– there’s elskan–” he began, punctuating it with another kiss, and Loki’s breath ghosted across Steve’s lips as he answered,
“My love.” He smiled and leaned upwards to kiss him again, this one long and slow, lingering and sweet..
“And Astin min,” Steve continued once the kiss ended, feeling a little breathy.
“Mm. You are a quick study.”
“And then what next?”
Loki spent the rest of the night teaching him. And by the next morning, all of it came easily, to the point where he didn’t even blush when Loki called him elskan at the breakfast table.
But he caught Bucky passing a five to Nat the moment she sat down.
“Sorry, bud. I bet her that you’d yank out Sweetheart and Baby before you leveled up to space viking.”
Loki sat the syrup back down in front of Steve and gave him a smug look. “Sweetheart, hm?” It hadn’t seemed appropriate before, but second thought, hearing him say it…
Alright. Maybe he hadn’t quite mastered the trick of not blushing yet.
