
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13533702.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor_(Marvel)
  Character:
      Thor_(Marvel), Loki_(Marvel), Sif_(Marvel), Odin_(Marvel), Frigga_
      (Marvel), Hela_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Human, Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Uncle/Nephew
      Incest, Mentions_of_Cancer, Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending, Minor_Character
      Death, Age_of_Consent, Loki_is_Sixteen, Thor_is_Eighteen, Consensual
      Underage_Sex, Recovering_Alcoholic, Loki_as_the_Favourite, Depression
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-31 Completed: 2018-02-21 Chapters: 12/12 Words: 37797
****** Hell and High Water ******
by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask)
Summary
     Loki needed a parent.
     It was clear Hela was not up to this task, so the welfare of Loki
     fell to his grandfather: Odin. The first few years passed without
     incident, but then things began to change between Loki and Thor . . .
     a few lingering touches, a few shared jokes, an intimacy that went
     beyond nephew and uncle . . . Odin grew suspicious. He grew afraid.
     They would need to be kept apart, for Loki's sake.
  This work was inspired by
      Three_Hundred_Words by ravenbringslight
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Tend to your child, Hela.”
Odin rested his hands on the crib. The cool wood rocked with the force of
Loki’s struggles; tiny fists pounded the air with erratic movements, while soft
cheeks were almost blue from the force of his cries, and every other second he
would choke for breath. He struggled against his swaddling cloths. The loud
wails pierced Odin’s ears, bringing small winces to his aging face, and it
broke his heart to see Loki . . . tossing, turning, trapped. . . desperate for
attention.
He leaned his face into the crib, so that Loki would not be alone. Loki slowed
his sobs and reached every upward, with green eyes blinking back immense tears,
and Odin offered forth a callused finger for a tiny hand to grip and pull. It
was difficult to look on those high cheekbones and angled features, enough that
that Odin tensed for a brief second, but soon he saw Loki for the reality of
the situation . . . a newborn babe. Innocent. Odin pulled a face and laughed to
see Loki chuckle through tears, as he stroked at those chubby cheeks.
“Do not fuss over him, Father,” chided Hela.
“Your boy is but two weeks old, my child.” Odin let out a hiss of breath. “If
you seek to employ the Ferber method, this is far too soon and it will end in
failure. Do you not remember how your mother struggled with Thor? These things
take time.”
“That woman is not my mother. Remember that.”
Odin cast an eye over the trophy room. Hela stood before the fireplace, with
arm rested on the mantel and dark eyes staring with great intensity into the
flames, and as she stood – light reflecting strangely from her leather-clad
form – he saw the tension to her shoulders and the tight clenching of her
fists. A bottle of vodka hung from her right hand, still mostly full and yet
with a clear stain of lipstick on its rim. Odin noted a few upturned bottles
over the tables and floor, along with various streamers and paper plates. His
nostrils flared, as he said:
“Frigga is my wife, Hela. Frigga is good to you.”
He reached down into the crib. Loki was soft in his hands, so warm and fragile,
and Odin smiled as those loud cries came to an instant silence, broken only
with soft murmurs and gentle sobs. He pulled Loki to his chest, careful to
support the neck. Loki was lulled into a quick sleep by the sound of his
heartbeat, while Odin patted his back in a regular rhythm, and only the sound
of Hela’s bitter scoff disturbed the otherwise quiet room.
Odin cast his gaze over the framed photographs on the walls. He flinched to see
the sole image of Fárbauti and Hela hidden behind several trophies and plaques,
while every other frame bore forth immortalised moments from his life with
Frigga . . . their wedding day, their honeymoon, the day Thor was born . . . a
few photographs of Loki now joined in the collage. It was one of Thor – just
two years of age – holding Loki that made him smile. The room stood as a
testament to family and years of achievements, yet something was absent.
Hela tossed her bottle to the ground, where it smashed with a loud crash. Loki
cried out. It took all of Odin’s strength to hush the young babe, bouncing him
with a narrowing of his eyes, and he held back the urge to snarl in response.
The liquid ran over the expensive tiles, while the glass shimmered from the
light of the fire and moon beyond the window, and Hela marched across the room
to stand a few feet from Odin. Her finger jabbed at the air.
“He is my son,” spat Hela.
“Do you wish for him back?” Odin asked. “You would only forget he exists. He
deserves better than a mother who spends her nights starting brawls in the
street and consorting with known criminals. What example do you set for him?
Frigga and I were absent for a short vacation, but what do we return home to
find? The remains of a drunken house-party!”
“Well, it was a rather good party.” Hela shrugged with a smirk. “That woman has
changed you, Father. I remember what life was like before you gave into her
charms. Odin Borson . . . now surrounded by goblets and garden parties, a
pillar of his community . . .”
“Watch what you say next, child.”
“You are so proud to have it all, but so ashamed of how you got it. I remember
well the back-alley gambling, the backroom deals, the broken kneecaps . . .
they called me your ‘executioner’, do you know that? We were an absolute power.
Our supremacy was unchallenged. Yet you stopped when you met her. Why was that,
I wonder?”
A cold wind blew snow against the windows. The ice formed strange patterns,
each more intricate than the last, while the howling wind only added to Loki’s
cries, so that – every time a shutter rattled – he would yelp and fuss all over
again. The room grew dark as clouds formed across the sky, while the fire raged
ever on with loud crackles and pops as the wood snapped from the heat. Odin
lifted his head high and called out:
“Frigga and I wish to adopt Loki.”
Hela laughed and stalked the length of the room. Long fingers traced over
trophies and keepsakes and antiques, topping them over one by one . . . ‘fake’,
‘weak’, ‘smaller than I expected’, ‘not actually that bad’. . . one by one they
crashed to the floor. Odin watched as priceless vases were reduced to pieces,
while a photograph with the mayor shattered on impact, and a trophy – a prize
from a charity run – dented along the rim. Hela snatched a bottle of whiskey
from a pile of discarded clothing, as she came to stand before Odin.
The house was mostly empty. The damage was mostly reversible. Hela uncapped the
bottle and took a large swig, before swirling the amber liquid with a cold eye,
and soon she locked her gaze on Odin with a curl of her lip. He remained
silent, while his fingers pressed against black hair and his lips pressed to a
warm head. Loki sniffed and murmured. There was a stench in the air like vomit
and sweat, enough that Odin bristled and frowned.
“No,” said Hela. “He is mine.”
“Will you tell him who sired him?” Odin laughed. “You would lumber him with
Laufey’s name, forcing him to be associated with my business rival and a common
criminal? No. No one yet knows you gave birth, Hela. It would be easy to feign
him Frigga’s son.”
“Your solution to every problem was always to cover it up. Well, you will not
take my child and raise him as another heir to your precious little lifestyle,
Father. I may regret having slept with that buffoon, but I do not regret having
carried Loki and having given him life, and I will take him away from all these
fake trinkets and decorated lies. You will never see him again. You will never
see me again. I have ambitions for him beyond this façade.”
“You will not take my grandson from me, Hela.” Odin held Loki ever closer. “If
you sign the contracts that my lawyers have written, I will see to it that you
are paid handsomely for your loss, and I will even provide you with
accommodation in any country you so desire. I will even gladly sign away our
smaller businesses to you, so you may rule as you so crave.”
“Hand me my son. I will not ask you twice. He is mine.”
“Do you think the courts will be in your favour?”
Hela reached out with just one hand. Odin growled at her, as she snatched much
like a child at a toy, and cradled Loki to his chest so that none could take
him, arms wrapped firmly around him, but Hela snatched out again with long
nails catching at Loki’s cheek. He screamed. The loud cries were enough for
Odin to lurch forward, where he snarled at her like a wounded animal, and yet
she did not back down. Hela held her ground.
Once more that hand came for Loki, whose forehead bled with several marks. Odin
dove back and marched to the doorway; Hela cried out and gulped at the bottle,
before – once more – it was tossed just like the rest, but this time at a far
wall. The amber liquid ran down in rivulets, staining the paper and collecting
in a puddle on the floor. Loki wept and wept, while blood pulled in his eyes,
and his tears ran red in turn. Hela paced back and forth, back and forth, until
she grabbed at another bottle and this time held it high toward Odin.
He spun his body around. He kept his back to Hela. Loki screamed against his
chest, but he would be kept out of the line of fire, and yet . . . as tears
formed in her reddened eyes . . . she dropped the bottle to her side and let it
swing back and forth. Odin glanced over his shoulder, where he saw her raise a
trembling hand to her mouth. He winced and blinked away tears. It was quiet
throughout the house, only Loki broke that silence. Odin whispered:
“They will not grant custody to a drunk.”
“A drunk? A drunk?”
Hela laughed so low and deep that Loki wept harder. The bottle was soon
upturned, as she poured it over every surface and made a show of disposing of
the contents, and yet – as the bottle was emptied – she went for another and
another . . . Odin said nothing, even as he cursed and screwed shut his eyes,
but he heard how she screamed and shouted. He opened his eyes to see her paled.
Tears ran down her cheeks. Hela smashed and broke all the remaining bottles,
even as the leftover streamers turned to mush underfoot, as she choked out:
“Am I still a drunk? Where is my drink now?”
Hela fell to her knees, while she wept in turn, and Odin – turning with
stinging eyes – continued to bounce Loki and bit hard into his lip. He tasted
iron. A part of him longed to throw his arms around her, but Loki needed his
cuts tended and his stomach filled, while Thor and Frigga waited in a hotel for
word that it was okay to return. Odin remained in the doorway, while he watched
her finally laugh and wipe away her tears.
There was just one last bottle. It rolled across the floor, hitting at her
knee, where she placed a shaking hand to it and held it with a strange
gentleness, and an eerie smile swept over her lips until lines deepened at her
eyes. Hela appeared sober, enough that he knew the remains of drunken escapades
came forth from her many guests, and yet he tensed to remember how his bed was
mussed and sheets were wrinkled, while a glove of Laufey’s sat on his pillow,
as if to taunt him. He listened to his heart race. He panted for breath. Hela
muttered:
“You have replaced me with my own son.”
“You are my daughter,” said Odin.
“You papered over Mother’s murals,” muttered Hela. “You hid her photographs in
boxes locked within the attic. You ask me to call your new wife ‘Mother’ . . .
you ask me to watch Thor even as he learns to toddle toward her skirts . . .
how soon will it be before I am just a shadow like Mother? Will you neglect to
tell them about me? Will I even matter?”
“You thirst for power, but you have let all my lessons fall to nothing but
myths and dreams, and where I thought you would learn from me . . . you have
learnt nothing. If you sincerely seek to be a mother to Loki, you will go to a
rehabilitation clinic tomorrow.”
“I will do no such thing. I am not the alcoholic you make me seem!”
“Look to Loki’s forehead. Do you see those scratches?”
“He is my son! Loki is mine.”
Odin shook his head. The room reeked of alcohol, while Hela’s long hair clung
and matted at the ends from where it dragged in the puddles underhand, and –
with fingers still clasped on the stray bottle – she desperately gasped for
breath and started to hyperventilate. He pressed his lips into a thin line. He
blinked away tears. Loki sobbed quietly against him, clad only in the green
swaddling cloth and now feeling the chill, while Odin could only whisper:
“Not any more.”
A broken laugh escaped her lips.
It started slow and quiet, but grew manic and loud. Loki wept in turn once
again, unable to endure the noise, and his frustrated cries only increased when
she screamed. Hela screamed. It cut through the household like a knife, until
Skurge shouted from across the household and some unrecognisable voice called
back, but Hela made no coherent sound in response, lost to her tears and cries
and shakes of her head. Her hand contracted around the bottle.
Hela looked up. Their eyes met. He knew what she intended to do . . . eyes
narrowed, lips curled, shoulders tensed . . . no words left his lips, except
for a whispered ‘no’. Odin stumbled back and angled his body away. He hunched
over Loki. Hela screamed from behind, as she threw the full bottle towards the
fireplace. It smashed. The next few sounds were a roar of life, as fire raged
through the room, aided by the alcohol poured over every surface, and soon
flames engulfed the trophy room. Hela laughed. Hela laughed . . .unmoving . . .
Odin ran.
He fled down the stairs, while fire-alarms blared and Loki wailed. He kicked
and yelled at a few sleeping figures strewn in odd positions about the house,
while pausing only in the hall to dial one-one-twoand left the receiver
dangling from the phone-table. Smoke quickly flooded the house, even as he
stormed through the front doors and stumbled onto the snow, dropping to his
knees on the front garden beyond. Loki wailed and screamed. The snow raged.
“Hela,” whispered Odin. “Hela, please . . .”
Sirens echoed through the night. A flash of red-and-blue lights blinded his
vision, while various guests and strangers poured forth from the doors, and –
as more and more people collapsed on the cold lawn – he stared upward to the
raging inferno. The windows to the trophy room exploded with a shattering of
glass, forcing him to crash down onto the snow and clasp Loki against his
chest. Black smoke billowed from the frames. Coughs. Splutters. Tears. He
watched despite the chaos around him, but there was no sign of Hela.
He watched even as the sirens stopped. Hands were on his shoulders, guiding him
on trembling legs to a stark white vehicle, and – sat down – a blanket was
thrown over him. Loki taken from his arms. A light shone in his eyes. Odin
cursed and pushed away prodding hands, while others on the lawn were
congregated together, and police started to collect names to put with faces.
Loki cried behind him. A paramedic promised he was safe.
A tear ran down Odin’s cheek, as he struggled to process events. The house
would be permanently destroyed with the force of the growing fire, although a
few rooms on the ground floor might have survived, and prayed Hela had enough
sense of mind to flee. He glanced over the lower windows. No shadows. No
movement. Odin wept, even as someone asked him questions . . . ‘is the baby
yours’, ‘is anyone else inside the house’, ‘who owns the property’. . . he
looked back to the trophy room and said through tears:
“Hela. I am sorry.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
“Did you miss me, Loki?”
Thor slid into a chair, as he sipped at his beer. The bottle was lukewarm, left
out in his room overnight, and yet it still retained some of its taste. He
picked at the label; small fragments dropped onto the kitchen table, as they
piled up and collected by the coaster, and – as he watched Loki – he smirked as
a draught blew the pieces in all directions. The fragments scattered. They
landed over the tiled floor and his rough jeans, as he chuckled at the mess.
A female voice called through an apology, as the draught slammed shut a door
with a loud bang, and – despite how the noise hurt his ears – it did prevent
the cold from penetrating further, while the front door clicked closed. Loki
let out a hiss of breath. He stood by the sink and leaned against the white
marble, while green eyes stared at the scattered remains over a freshly swept
floor, and crossed his arms over a black waistcoat, while his lip curled in an
all too familiar manner. Thor opened his mouth to speak, but Loki cut him off
with a bitter:
“Grandfather will have your head.”
“Yeah?” Thor rolled his eyes. “What have I done now?”
Loki marched across the kitchen. He stopped just a foot short of the wooden
table, where he reached out and snatched the bottle straight from Thor’s hand,
and – as Thor stood with a roar of protest – Loki jumped out of his reach and
strode over to the sink. The leftover liquid was poured down the drain, while
the bottle was quickly dropped into the recycle bin. There was no word of
apology. Loki simply stood with hands on the edge of the sink, while he stared
out through the kitchen windows with black hair loose about his shoulders.
Thor rolled his shoulders, as he swept over to Loki. A hand grabbed at a bony
shoulder, wrenching him around, so that Thor could lean down into his personal
space, and there he stood so close that he could taste Loki’s breath on his
lips. There was a rich scent of honey and fruit, from an early and healthy
breakfast, while a pink tinge lay on his cheeks and gave a small iota of colour
to otherwise pale skin. Thor shoved at him and knocked him back.
“Are you looking for a fight?”
“My mother died because of that poison,” spat Loki. “I love you more than
anyone, Thor, but you are reckless . . . you are dangerous. Are you what
Grandfather needs from a son? You are no more than a drunken lout desperate for
attention, flouting all rules set in this house. You have been at university
for less than one term, so don’t think that just because –”
“I’m legally allowed to drink, Loki! Do you think everyone to be as tight and
anal as you? I’m allowed to have fun should I wish. You’re still just a child;
I am busy with studies, while you are busy with tricks. What is it that makes
you so afraid to just . . . let go?”
“Grandfather said no alcohol in this house.”
“He’s an old man and a fool!”
Thor panted for breath. He clenched his fists and looked Loki over, where he
saw a smirk that pulled at the corners of his eyes, and – as the lines deepened
– he caught the faint sound of someone calling out to them . . . ‘no fighting
in this house’. . . Thor ran a hand over his face, as his beard scratched at
his palm, and let out a hiss of breath. Thor stepped away from Loki and moved
over to the back door, where he threw it wide open to let the cold air from
outside hit him hard. He closed his eyes, while Loki laughed and asked in a
cold voice:
“Now who is looking for a fight?”
Loki filled the sink to the brim, while he poured in liquid soap, and – with a
mutter of complaint – piled in the various dirty dishes to soak, as small
splashes of water jumped over the sides and onto the cuffs of his green shirt.
Thor watched him from the corner of his eyes, while he leaned against the
doorframe and glanced over the perfectly immaculate garden. A swinging bench
blew in the breeze beneath a white archway. Thor muttered:
“It isn’t wise to be in my company right now.”
“Whoever said I was wise?”
The tap was turned off. Loki wiped his hands on a tea-towel, before he came
around to stand beside Thor and touched at his shoulder with hesitation. Thor
tensed, but soon came undone as Loki slipped behind him and massaged at his
muscled shoulders with an expertise that matched no other, while thick knots
were worked out by long fingers. The cool breeze provided a gentle distraction,
as the wind picked at bare branches and reflected from the dew strewn over the
blades of grass. Loki leaned into him and whispered:
“You drank too much.”
“Yeah,” muttered Thor. “They held a fresher’s event at the student union. I
forgot that I agreed to spend this weekend at home, so I  may have drank until
I passed out, but luckily Sif lives not far and was able to drive me back. I
know you worry, Loki, but it’s okay to have fun. I won’t become a raging
alcoholic simply because I like to socialise.”
“Only first years are allowed in dormitories.” Loki let out a long sigh. “Will
you drink this much with house-mates and obligations? Will you return home and
commute to save money? It will come to a point where you will need to rein in
your bad habits.”
“Why? Afraid I may burn down the house?”
“That is a very low blow, Uncle,” spat Loki. “I am not asking you to take a
pledge of sobriety, but simply not to bring alcohol into this house. Do you see
these scars on my head? Do you? I see them every day when I look into a mirror.
I have no memory of that night, but I remember every anniversary after for the
past ten years . . . I see the pain in his eyes.”
Loki dropped his hands to his sides. Thor turned to see the four faint scars
that ran across his forehead, as if he bore a perpetual frown, and he winced to
look away at the family photographs that lined the kitchen walls like
decorative remembrances. He saw Odin holding a newborn Loki with wonder in his
eyes . . . he saw Loki toddling as Odin bore an eye-patch . . . he saw year
after year where the lines on Odin’s face grew deeper and deeper, until all
light seemed extinguished and only pain remained. Thor said with a low voice:
“He hides it well.”
“He hides everything,” whispered Loki.
“I only have very vague memories of Iceland.” Thor shrugged and kicked at the
ground. “I have dreams sometimes of vast wastelands of ice, but I have no idea
whether I am remembering what I once saw or imagining what I think I ought to
see.”
“I had to draw a family tree for college and –”
“High-School,” corrected Thor.
“No, I mean college. Are we really doing this again? I’m not explaining the ins
and outs of the British educational system to some jock that spent his teens in
an Australian boarding school. Tell me, what were your best subjects again?
Surfing? Sunbathing?”
“You’re such a brat,” laughed Thor. “I should’ve attended college in Australia,
as at least then I would have my independence and some space. Do you ever feel
claustrophobic here, Loki? I shouldn’t be made to feel ashamed just because I
like a drink. The first time I so much as sipped a beer . . . I threw up. I
threw up as I was convinced I would become like her.”
Loki winced and walked onto the patio. The high walls of the garden provided
the illusion of privacy, while the balconies above remained shut for the
winter, and – as Loki wandered over to a stone bench – Thor caught the terror
writ across the features. He knew that fear, too. It was the fear that came any
time a loved one toasted with champagne or sipped at some wine . . . ‘will this
be the drink that sends it spiralling’. . . Loki clenched his hands around the
edge of the bench, where he drew in a deep breath and let out a long sigh.
“At least you don’t look like her,” whispered Loki.
The words hung heavy in the air. Thor glanced to the photographs, only to
realise one cold and brutal truth: no photographs of Hela survived. If it were
not for Loki’s name, as well as the legal frustrations in adoption, they
perhaps would have been lied to throughout their childhoods, raised as brothers
and never knowing more. Thor walked to Loki and sat beside him. He pressed his
hand to the stone and let fingertips press against soft thigh. Loki asked:
“Why did you come back, Thor?”
“You know why, Loki.”
Thor winked and pinched at Loki’s buttock. Loki visibly jumped, before he
flushed red and glanced over every window about the house, but – with Frigga
busy with various chores and Odin consumed with work – they were left
unobserved. They sat in relative silence, even as Loki pursed his lips and
narrowed his eyes. The borderline comfortable atmosphere was soon lost as Loki
blinked away tears and turned to face Thor. He straddled the bench and leaned
forward, until his face was but a few inches from Thor, and quietly he spat:
“You should have stayed down under.”
Thor was left speechless. Loki snarled and swung a leg back around, before he
marched back into the kitchen and slammed the door shut with a loud slam, and –
with the gates padlocked and walls over six-foot high – Thor feared being
locked out. It would have been in Loki’s petty nature to commit such a ‘prank’,
even as the taps audibly began running through an opened kitchen window. Thor
rolled his eyes, as he walked back into the kitchen.
The kitchen door was unlocked, much to his surprise. Thor sighed and walked
behind Loki, where he wrapped his arms around that slim waist, and – with
gentle murmurs – placed gentle kisses over that long column of neck. He was
lost in the moment. He sighed in contentment. Loki scooped up a cup-full of
soapy water, only to break the intimacy by throwing it over his shoulder. It
struck Thor in the face, dripping everywhere and splattering Loki in the
process, and – as he cursed – the soap stung his eyes and blurred his vision.
Thor stumbled back, as he snatched at a tea-towel to wipe at his face, but –
with a cold realisation – he saw how Loki spun around with hand raised.  Thor
snatched at his wrist. The inevitable blow never made contact, but a small
bruise formed on pale skin as Thor strove to hold Loki back without doing
permanent damage. They stayed in a stalemate. It took a long few seconds of
glaring at one another, before Loki yanked his hand away and Thor spat:
“What’s your problem?”
“What do you think my problem is, Uncle?”
“Is this about that picture I posted online?” Thor ran a hand over his face. “I
am sorry I tagged you! If I’d known that my profile was public, or that Laufey
would’ve liked it, then I swear I wouldn’t have uploaded it. Did he contact
you? Did he say –?”
“This isn’t about Laufey. This about that woman.” Loki curled his lip. “I saw
you together online, Thor. I saw the photographs she posted of you two in bed,
just as I saw the videos Fandral posted of the two of you at that concert, and
you look oh so happy together. Does she satisfy you? Is she good at what she
does? Maybe I’ll pay her a visit myself.”
“How did you even -?”
“I hacked Darcy’s social media. You may want to tell your friends to not leave
their passwords on post-it notes, especially when those post-it notes are stuck
on their laptops. Don’t remember your last night here before you left for your
dormitory? You promised me that we would stay as close as ever, but instead I
speak to you less than when you were in Australia . . . we used to speak daily,
we used to video-call, we used to write . . .”
Loki rapidly blinked. He shook his head and laughed, but it was a soulless
sound devoid of all life, and then – as he bit hard into his lip – he walked
over to the pass-through kitchen window, where he looked out over the lounge
with hands pressed to the counter. Thor took in a deep breath; he strove to
still his racing heart, while a cold sweat broke over his skin, and yet he
moved to stand beside Loki. A few stray textbooks sat on a table, beside
exercise books and official paperwork, and family photographs littered the
floor. Loki whispered:
“You’re less than ten miles away.”
“I still love you, Loki,” said Thor. “It is just that this is a big change.
You’ll understand in a couple of years, but I’d have never met Hogun or
Volstagg if I hadn’t decided to study locally or live in the dorms, and I
wouldn’t have such fun were I stuck in Father’s house. Loki, you will always be
my nephew, but some things in life . . . I require more. That’s all.”
“I was willing to give you more, Thor. I still am willing to give you more. You
were the one that pushed me away . . . that decided ‘more’ was ‘too much’ . . .
you are avoiding me, Thor, I know the truth. Why did you sleep with me if you
never wanted more?”
“Loki, be quiet! If someone overhears us –”
“You slept with me!”
Thor dragged him over to the pantry. He threw Loki inside, before he walked in
after and slammed the door shut between them, and – as he flicked on a light –
shelves on shelves of canned goods towered over them in a claustrophobic
manner. Loki stumbled back, where he grasped a couple of shelves for balance.
The cramped space was sound-proofed. They learned at a young age the bricked
room provided the perfect place for screaming matches and physical fights,
which were soon replaced by make-out sessions in the weeks before Thor left.
He rounded on Loki. He threw his hands on either side of Loki’s head. Thor
leaned down into Loki’s space, where that familiar smirk was used to cover up
familiar insecurity, and he saw how the tears formed and threatened to fall
down Loki’s cheeks. The scent of Loki’s cologne was heavy in the air, while he
heard every rushed breath from those plump lips. Thor fought back a stirring of
arousal, as he licked at his lips and whispered into Loki’s ear:
“I didn’t know it would mean this much to you.”
“You were my first,” muttered Loki.
Thor winced and pulled back. He finally gave Loki space, as he crouched down on
the floor, where he pulled over a storage box and sat on the dusty lid, and yet
Loki said nothing else even as he righted himself and straightened his clothes.
It was easy to remember that Loki was sixteen, now the age of consent, but also
easy to forget that they were legally and biologically related, so that any
union would be incestuous in nature. Thor clenched his hands and held them
between his legs, while he gnawed at his lips and fought to find words.
“Loki, you’re my nephew.”
“We were raised like brothers,” said Loki.
“That makes it better?” Thor shook his head. “Do you know why Father sent me to
boarding school abroad, Loki? He saw how I looked at you! That was all it took,
Loki, and that is why he forced me into to live in the dormitory when I am in
commuting distance. If he finds out that we slept together -? Even if you are
sixteen -? He’ll kill me.”
“He already lost one child, Thor. He won’t lose another. You also assume we
would have to make this a public relationship! Why can’t we just enjoy each
other’s company? I just don’t want to see you running into her arms when I am
here . . . waiting.”
“You cannot offer me what she can, Loki. You just can’t.”
“Is that so? Are you so sure?”
Loki scoffed and sat astride Thor. He struggled to balance, forcing Thor to
lean back on the wooden shelving, and – with hands pressed to a muscled chest –
he writhed just enough that buttocks provided a delicious friction to an
awakening member. Thor tried to push Loki away, but soon Loki arched his back
and buried his face against his neck. There were kisses. There were licks. Thor
groaned and pulled Loki impossibly close, while his hands explored his back and
buttocks . . . groping, grinding . . . Loki chuckled and warned:
“You need a reminder to whom you belong.”
Teeth sank into Thor’s neck. He cried out in pain, as he tried to pull Loki
away, but Loki held fast and simply suckled at the wound even as blood was
drawn. The pain was intense, while no doubt a love-bite would be quickly
formed, and yet it was high enough on his neck that even a scarf or polo-neck
would struggle to hide the mark. Loki pulled away with a loud gasp for air,
before he slapped at Thor’s cheek with a laugh, and chirped:
“Explain that to your mewling quim.”
Loki climbed from Thor’s lap; he switched off the light, before he marched out
of the pantry and slammed the door shut, leaving Thor alone and in pain. He
raised a hand to his neck and winced at the sensation of broken skin, while the
darkness made it impossible to see damage done, and – as he cursed – he saw
shadows play across the floor. Light leaked out from under the door, where Loki
stood. A slide of something metal. Footsteps walking away. Thor did not need to
get up to realise he was locked inside the pantry, and yet . . .
He smiled, impressed.
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
Odin stood tall before Thor.
The light streamed out before him, silhouetting him in the doorway. Thor winced
and turned his head away, as the sharp light from the kitchen struck his eyes,
and – raising a hand to his forehead – blinked rapidly as he sought to adjust
his vision. Odin stared hard at Thor with his good eye half-squinted, while his
hands clenched tightly at his hips, and the lines on his forehead deepened with
the pressure of his frown. He looked furious.
Thor stood to his feet, as he stretched out his limbs. There was laughter
beyond, deep and mocking in nature, and – with a hiss of breath and a flare of
his nostrils – Thor marched forward with hands clenched until knuckles turned
white. A hand shot out. Odin pushed at Thor’s chest, forcing him back a few
steps, before he raised a pointed finger and aimed it just an inch or so from
his face. Thor pulled back his head, desperate to avoid being stabbed by that
warning digit. He pursed at his lips and gritted his teeth. Odin said:
“You are too old for this.”
“I didn’t choose to be locked in here,” spat Thor.
“No? Tell me, Thor, who locked you in here?” Odin narrowed his blue eye. “Did
you do nothing to provoke Loki? Did you not mock his silver tongue? Did you not
accuse him of being a trickster? If you did nothing to deserve his wrath, I
shall punish him at once and make sure that he does not leave his rooms for the
duration of your visit.”
“He provoked me first! He insulted my relationship with Jane.”
“That is your defence?” ‘He started it’?” Odin scoffed and said: “You were
accepted to the best universities in America and Australia, Thor, but still you
decided to attend the most local university that was possible. Why was this,
Thor? I asked that you attend elsewhere.”
Thor stared down at the floor. He said nothing, even as his jaw ached and his
palms bled, and – as he dug his nails into his skin – small crescent-shaped
cuts appeared on his flesh, while he listened to his heart roar in his ears.
The light grew a little dimmer as Frigga walked behind Odin, blocking the light
while she took platters of food from the kitchen tables, before she disappeared
through the double doors into the dining room. Odin stepped to the side. Thor
walked out into the kitchen and stretched, while he cricked his neck.
“You are his uncle,” said Odin.
The accusation was clear, with the words almost a hushed whisper. Odin turned
his back on Thor, before he marched through the kitchen to the double doors,
and – with a loud slam – they shut behind him and left Thor standing alone in
the kitchen. He glanced to the photographs of Loki on the wall . . .‘Thor, he
suffered the loss of his mother, would you begrudge him the love of a
grandmother’. . . always the favourite, always so special.
Thor wondered if things could have been different.
If they were just raised as brothers, with Loki never having the shadows of a
lost mother hanging over him, and if Thor was not forced to bear the
expectations of an ‘uncle’ . . . he ran a hand over his face and followed Odin.
He listened to the sound of his footsteps, each one a loud slap hard on the
tiles below, while he struggled to control his breathing and gnawed at his lip
until he tasted iron. He threw open the dining room doors.
Odin sat at the head of the table. Frigga on his right, Loki on his left, and –
with the table so long – Thor would need to sit beside on of them . . . an
extra in the family of three, with a place hastily made with cutlery that did
not quite match the rest. A loud gasp escaped Frigga’s lips. At once, she
climbed to her feet on sight of him. He felt those soft arms before he saw
them, as they wrapped around his muscled waist and a soft head rested against
his chest, and pulled back with a warm smile that brought tears to her eyes.
Frigga whispered:
“Thor, I am so glad you are home.”
Frigga guided him to sit beside her. The serving bowls before him were filled
to the brim, so that the overwhelming scent of home-cooked food made his mouth
water, and he smiled to enjoy something other than pasta sandwiches or day-old
takeout. Frigga slid into her seat, while lifting large portions of vegetables
and potatoes onto his plate. He laughed when she took an extra pair of chops
from Odin and Loki, bringing scowls to their faces, and – as he ate with a
devastating hunger – she poked at the mark on his neck and half-smiled.
“Thor,” teased Frigga. “I see that some things never change.”
Thor blushed and muttered: “I’m dating Jane.”
“Aye,” said Odin. “This is the American student who plans to work in the
sciences? I would advise you to break up with her sooner than later, as she has
no more place in our family than a goat at a banquet table. The family
businesses require an heir, while you most certainly require a firm and steady
hand to help guide you through life. It is not time to settle down?”
“At eighteen?” Loki asked. “I think that a bad idea.”
“I suspect I know why you would think that way, but you do not understand what
is at risk by such inappropriate unions. If Thor wishes to sow his wild oats,
let that be so and be contented, but do not think that I would approve of some
upstart attempting to seek legal rights to my empire through matrimony. Do you
not rather seek the company of say Sif?”
“My friend since childhood?” Thor faked a smile and glared. “No, I don’t think
so. I’m grateful that she chose to study here with me, just as I’m grateful to
have met Fandral and Hogun and Jane, none of which I would have met without
choosing to study here at a local university, but I can’t just turn my feelings
on and off. It’s early days with me and Jane, but if we decide to take things
further in the long run -? I won’t let business hold me back.”
Loki smirked and reached for his wine glass. The non-alcoholic liquid swirled
around the rim, while he held it just under his nose with a feigned elegance,
and – as he took a long sip – he locked eyes with Thor with a narrowed gaze.
Odin grunted, as he continued his meal with violent stabs at his meat and
hunched shoulders. The sudden silence was awkward. Thor listened to every wet
chewing sound and gulping swallow, while knives scraped on the ceramic plates,
but soon the uncomfortable quiet was broken by Loki. He asked:
“Is that a new shirt, Thor?”
A foot nudged at his leg under the table. It was soft and freed from its shoe,
so that the large toe could run up and down his jeans, and – as Thor tried to
kick it away – it came back even higher, so that it could slide itself along
his thigh to his crotch. Thor discreetly put his hand under the table; he
tickled at Loki’s foot, causing it to jerk upright and crash against the
tabletop, and – as the contents rattled – Loki swore and quickly retracted his
foot. Odin quirked an eyebrow, but Thor distracted him by spitting a question
back:
“What has that to do with anything?”
“It looks an awful lot like Donald’s,” murmured Loki.
“Who is Donald?” Odin asked.
Thor kicked Loki hard under the table. Loki jerked in his seat, before he
reached down to rub at his leg and glare at him with cold green eyes. A foot
shot back to stamp on his foot. Thor yelped and pulled back his leg, but – as
he made to kick back – a pair of legs stretched out underneath the table and
blocked his kick. Loki gave an expression of sheer horror. It was evident that
a kick of his struck Odin, who glared at the two of them and silently warned
them to behave. They could not continue their kicks with Odin’s legs in
between.
“Donald is Jane’s ex-boyfriend,” said Thor. “That is all.”
“You are wearing his shirt?” Odin asked.
“They broke up once she came here.” Thor let out a hiss of breath. “He couldn’t
handle the relationship being long-distance, so they broke up when he visited a
while back. I got soaked in a rugby match, so Jane asked me to change so I
wouldn’t catch cold, and she still had his shirt in her closest. I wore it and
kept it. It’s a decent enough fit.”
“So she is still not over her ex?”
“That is not what I said,” muttered Thor. “Why do you let Loki stir up trouble?
If Jane had a boyfriend before me, who honestly cares? It’s not like you were a
virgin before you met Mother. I hope you haven’t forgotten Fárbauti that
easily?”
Odin threw his fork across the table. The smash of metal against various plates
echoed loudly about the air, while Thor winced and jerked away from where it
bounced towards him, and Odin – with nostrils wide and face paled – pushed away
from the table. He stood with an indecipherable expression. Those dry lips were
pushed into a white line, while his good eye squinted with intense focus, and
stormed away towards the lounge doors. Thor watched as long grey hair flew out
behind him. The doors slammed shut with a heavy sound.
Frigga heaved a long sigh, as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Thor could
not look her in the eyes, as he stared hard at the extra portions she stole for
him, and he could only wince when she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and
squeezed in reassurance. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, as she
stood and smoothed her long skirts. Loki remained silent. It gave Thor a chance
to collect his thoughts, even as his heart race. Frigga said:
“Thor, that was uncalled for.”
He said nothing. Frigga simply walked towards the lounge doors, where she
disappeared in turn, and Thor was finally left alone with Loki, who continued
to eat at his meal with an expression so passive that it was as if nothing
happened. The fireplace behind them sat unused and empty, a purely decorative
item in a house filled with central heating, and yet tending to the fire would
have provided some distraction. Thor curled his lip and threw a pea at Loki,
who simply raised an eyebrow and sighed in response. Thor asked:
“Why must you always cause trouble?”
“I only asked an innocent question,” said Loki.
“Innocent my ass!” Thor pointed in his direction. “You’re jealous of Jane! I’ve
been back only a few hours, but already you’ve done everything in your power to
break us up. Did you even think what would happen if I did break up with her?
You still live under Father’s roof, Loki. I still live in the dorms. It’s not
as though I would be able to spend more time with you.”
“Well, it’s not as though you’d be able to spend any less time with me,
either,” spat Loki. “It’s only two more years before I attend university, too,
and my grades are far superior to yours, so I won’t have any problem getting
into the same programme as you.”
“First years have to stay in dorms, Loki.”
“Okay, so you graduate and get your own place. I’ll move in for my second year
and third year, after which I’ll have graduated with honours and can help you
with rent. It’s not as though anyone will suspect we’re more than brothers. You
admitted that you have feelings for me. You slept with me! Why settle for
leftovers when you can have a hearty main course?”
Loki licked at the meat on his fork. He made a show of encasing it with his
mouth, before he chewed with a long moan, and swallowed with head tilted back,
while his eyes locked on Thor and he let out a long sigh with half-lidded eyes.
Loki licked at his lips with a slow sweep of his tongue, while he fluttered his
eyelashes and ran his fingertips over his throat, and Thor – with a growing
tent down below – fidgeted in his seat and looked away. He picked at his food,
even as it fell tasteless in his mouth with every bite.
“I want a family, Loki,” admitted Thor. “If I adopt or use a surrogate, I would
have to do that alone with you forever just the ‘cousin’ to my child. We
couldn’t adopt together. You couldn’t provide me with a biological heir. It’s
not as though we could run away and raise them together, because Father would
know and that would mean . . . disowning our family.”
“You think far too ahead.” Loki scoffed. “I’m sixteen, Thor. You’re eighteen.
Why can’t we just commit to one another and see where things go? You have
nothing in common with Jane, while I certainly wish Grandfather would stop
trying to set me up with Sigyn.”
“He would continue to try and set us up with different partners.”
“So if we are to suffer that either way -?”
Loki threw a potato in his direction. It struck the table and rolled onto the
floor, where Thor kicked it back over with a smirk, and – as it hit Loki’s foot
– he was half-reminded of the food fights when they were children, when Odin
spanked Thor for pouring a trifle over Loki after the entire kitchen floor
became coated with leftovers. Loki smiled and reached to wipe some gravy from
his plate. He brought his finger to his lips. Thor watched while he sucked at
the long digit, while he swirled his tongue around the tip with a soft sigh.
It was tempting to take him up on such an offer, but Thor – with a deep breath
and audible swallow – stood from the dining room table. He rested his
fingertips on the wood, while he closed his eyes and simply listened to the
house around them, where the floorboards creaked with the heating above and
Odin raved in the rooms beyond. Thor listened as phone vibrated on the kitchen
table, while music played from the library, and Loki chuckled at nothing.
“I’m going back to my dorms,” said Thor.
Loki laughed. It was a cold and quiet sound, which echoed around the dining
room, until – as his green eyes glanced to Thor – the realisation dawned and
his face paled, while he stood in turn and clenched his hand tight around his
steak knife. He leaned forward, enough that Thor was vaguely reminded of
childhood fights. They locked eyes. Thor listened as doors slammed in the
lounge, before silence descended about the house and only Loki’s breathing
could be heard. There was a tremble to Loki’s voice, as he squeaked out:
“You were supposed to stay for the weekend.”
“What will you do if I stay?” Thor ran his hand through his hair. “Will you
sneak into my rooms? Will you continue to play footsy at every meal? Will you
still try to jack me off under the blanket during movie nights? I was wrong to
sleep with you, because nothing can ever come from this relationship, and . . .
it kills me inside. I want more.”
“Then take more,” commanded Loki. “I will give it to you.”
“So Father can throw us out onto the streets?”
Thor marched around the table. He grabbed Loki by his upper arms and forced him
in place, while he leaned low and pressed their foreheads to one another, and –
as Loki mewled and cocked his head in search of a kiss – Thor stroked a path up
his arm. He wrapped his hand around that soft throat, before he cupped his neck
and rubbed at his jaw with a callused thumb. Thor blinked away his tears while
he licked at his lips and whispered:
“I won’t let him disown you for my actions.”
“Let him disown me, Thor! I want you.”
Thor shook his head. He let go and stepped back. Loki reached out once more
with long fingers and half-parted lips, but Thor could only grit his teeth and
let the tears threaten to fall from his eyes, as he walked backward towards the
lounge doors. The distance grew between them. The silence was uncomfortable as
it lingered. Thor turned his back on Loki, as his hand fell on the cold metal
of the doorknob. He knew his suitcase would still be in the hall, while his car
still waited on the drive, and – as he threw open the door – he could only
whisper:
“I’m sorry, Loki.”
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
“You are dead, Loki!”
Thor slammed the door shut.
It echoed about the bedroom suite, where Loki winced and stumbled back a few
steps, and – as Thor glared through the total darkness – he could just about
make out a black robe clutched tightly about a pale frame. Loki’s hands grasped
at the cloth around his chest and waist, while long black hair curled free from
products about his shoulder. A few candles sat lit on his bedside table.
Incense drifted through the air. Thor hissed out a breath.
The rest of the house was silent; snores echoed from the master bedroom, while
the refrigerator murmured within the kitchen, but otherwise there was only the
rapid racing of his heart and the loud hisses through his nose. He clenched his
hands. The knuckles turned white under the pressure, while crescent cuts
appeared on his palms, and spots appeared in his vision from the stress and
frustration. Thor raised a hand and jabbed a finger in Loki’s direction, even
as Loki walked back until legs struck at the metal frame of his bed.
Thor ran a hand over bearded face, as he watched Loki with narrowed eyes. The
phone in Thor’s jeans pocket buzzed over and over, while his bomber jacket
half-fell off his shoulder, and the car keys in his other hand jingled with
every gesture. He curled his lips and threw the jacket and keys to the floor,
while he turned off his phone and threw that in turn. Loki said nothing. Thor
drew in a deep breath, as he straightened his t-shirt and spat:
“Jane broke up with me.”
Loki barely held back an obvious smirk. He tightened the belt of his gown,
before he folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side.
Thor swallowed hard. It was obvious that beneath that silk . . . barely held
closed, so short that the inside of his thighs glistened in what little light
remained. . . he was naked and confident in his nudity, as he stretched out a
long leg with bare toes toying with the carpet. Loki let out an exaggerated
sigh, while he hummed long and low with a roll of his eyes. He asked:
“Oh? Am I supposed to be surprised?”
“You knew I was coming here, didn’t you?” Thor curled his lips. “Candles?
Incense? Satin sheets? You couldn’t possibly think I would run into your arms
after such a break-up! How did you even know I would come back here to deal
with you? How did you know?”
“Jane changed her status to ‘single’,” confessed Loki. “You have GPS on your
phone; I have access to the account, because you wanted to go backpacking
around Europe for the summer before you left for university, and – while it did
give us peace of mind – you never changed the passwords to your account. I saw
you were driving home and prepared.”
“You actually thought I would jump into bed with you?”
“Oh, please, Thor! You slept with me the very night before you left for
university. You lay beside me and held me close and told me you loved me, but
ever since then there has been this desperate need to find someone else . . .
‘it was a mistake’, ‘you’re too young’. . . let me guess, she saw your little
bite and dumped your ass? Well, now you have nothing to lose.”
Thor roared. Pain seared his throat. He stormed forward and shot out a callused
hand; he grabbed Loki by his neck and yanked back his head until his throat was
bared, while he pressed his chest against Loki’s and leaned down into his
personal space. There was warm breath on his lips, while Loki panted and stared
with wide-eyes, and together they remained locked together in absolute silence.
Loki gripped at his t-shirt. It stretched and creased under his fists. Thor
blinked away tears while he spat at Loki, saliva flying from his lips:
“Jane was my only shot at a normal life!”
Loki laughed long and hard. He loosened his grip on Thor’s shirt, only to lower
his hands and take hold of the hem, and – slowly sliding the material upward –
he bared the majority of Thor’s muscular chest and licked his lips. The soft
pads of his thumb rubbed against his nipples, working them erect with shots of
unwanted pleasure through him, while Loki chuckled and leaned closer. Thor let
go of that neck. He let go of that hair. Loki whispered:
“Why settle for ‘average’ when you can have ‘amazing’?”
“This relationship is doomed to fail.”
“So you admit that this is a relationship, Thor?”
Thor cried out until his voice broke. He shoved hard. Loki crashed down against
the mattress and bounced, while his gown slid down to reveal a nude shoulder
and a slither of chest, and – as he gasped and stared wide-eyed – he crawled up
the bed on all fours. He rolled onto his back, one leg partially raised and
hands upward to clutch the headboard, while he licked at his lips and watched
as Thor wrenched his shirt fully from his form.
The pounding of his heart blocked out all other noise, as Thor climbed onto the
bed and crawled closer and closer to Loki, who – with all the seduction of an
expert temptress – parted his legs and allowed Thor to settle between them. The
gown kept his modesty, but it tented in a way that made Loki’s intentions
clear. Thor glared. The adrenaline raced through every vein, while muscles
tensed and bulged, and – with a cry of rage – he slammed a fist down just an
inch from Loki’s face. It pounded the pillow. It caught his hair with a wince.
“Thor,” murmured Loki. “You’re scaring me.”
Thor leaned down. He saw dilated eyes and parted lips, both providing a welcome
sight until Loki smirked and chuckled under his breath, and – as Thor closed
his eyes and rubbed his nose against Loki – two hands let go of the spindles of
the headrest. Loki slid his fingers down that muscled form, before unbuttoning
those thick jeans and lowering the zip, and a warm palm slid itself into his
underwear and freed his erection.
It brought a gasp to his lips. Thor rocked into that firm grip, where a soft
thumb dipped into his slit and his hand twisted a little on every upward
stroke, and – as pre-come streamed down his foreskin at an astounding rate – he
groaned to feel Loki start to milk him, moving his fingers one after another as
if truly seeking to coax from him as much come as possible. Loki mumbled, while
another hand cupped at his balls and rolled them in a manner that had Thor’s
entire body shivering with desire. Thor pressed kisses to his neck.
“No,” said Thor. “I’m not scaring you.”
“No, you’re not . . .”
Loki let go of his member. Two hands spread open his gown, before dropping it
gracefully to the floor beside the bed, and – as his eyes feasted over Loki’s
body – Thor swore and struggled to removed his muddy boots before they
continued. There followed a loud thud. Another. Thor settled back between those
legs and ran his hands over a perfectly toned body, closely examining every
mole and stretch-mark and bruise. Loki was perfect.
The scars on his forehead darkened under the candlelight, while his torso
looked like porcelain in the low light, and his member stood out so thick and
long, with a throbbing vein along the underside and a few stray drops of pre-
come from the flared head. He was shaved. It gave the impression that
everything was bigger, along with Loki so much younger, and it added a sense of
forbidden thrill, while Thor groaned and leaned down to suckle at an erect
nipple. Loki buried his hands into Thor’s hair with a cry of desire.
Loki was flushed red with desire. He gripped hard at Thor’s hair, yanking until
some came loose from the roots, while he wrapped his legs around Thor’s waist
and pressed the heels of his feet beneath round and firm buttocks. Their
members pressed flush, although Thor cursed in embarrassment that his lacked in
comparison. He flicked and rubbed and pulled at the nipple not currently
trapped beneath teeth and tongue, while Loki writhed and rutted against him
with loud pants and quiet mewls. He was as vocal as their first time.
Those hands pulled him upward, until clumsy lips pressed against him. Thor
laughed. It was clear that Loki still needed practise, with teeth clashing
against him and occasional unpleasant slurping sounds, but he was sincere . . .
passionate. . . a quick learner. He ran his hands over Thor’s buttocks,
gripping hard and pulling him against him, while a tongue slid out and soon
their kiss was deep and left both breathless. Loki whispered:
“Put it in, please. Put it in.”
Thor swore and slid his hand low. There was wetness between Loki’s legs, too
much for sweat and too unnatural to be anything else, and yet – as he teased at
the hole open before him – it was all so loose and soft. He slid a finger in to
the knuckle. No resistance. The inner walls were hot and ridged, while the
uncomfortable pulse could be felt around his invading digit, and a second
finger slid in with equal lack of resistance. It was wet inside. It reminded
him that he needed lubrication, but there was none to be found. Thor gasped
out:
“You’re already prepared?”
“I started as soon as I saw her status change,” confessed Loki. “The past half-
an-hour I’ve spent with all four fingers and half-a-tub of lubrication inside
me, and I have to say that it pales in comparison to the real thing. I
shouldn’t bleed or bruise this time. This time you can go as hard as you want
without worry. You were awful at preparation.”
“We rushed last time.” Thor licked at his lips. “Next time? Let’s make
preparation into foreplay. Let me finger you, suck you, stroke you . . . let me
make you come undone and grow hard all over, before I finally fuck you and make
you melt beneath me.”
“N-No dirty talk. I’m – I’m close enough as it stands.”
“Believe me, that wasn’t dirty talk.”
Thor chuckled and moved further down. He sat upright, so that he could look
between Loki’ spread legs and see the winking hole clenching around his
fingers, and – as he growled in possessive lust – he adjusted his member and
placed the head against Loki. It was the hardest part to fit inside, but it
slid with barely any resistance. Loki arched his back and shot his hands out
for the headboard, where he opened his mouth into a wide ‘O’ and scrunched
closed his eyes, and Thor licked at his lips at such an erotic sight.
He slid in to the hilt. Blond pubic hair tickled at those buttocks. Loki arched
his back so much that it looked as if it would snap, while Thor leaned low to
wrap arms around him, and – as he struggled to breathe through the pleasure –
he placed chaste kisses to Loki’s chest. It brought a mumbled laugh to Loki’s
lips, at how gentle and brotherly Thor could act even during sexual acts, and
he reached down to stroke at his hair. Thor gaped in wonder:
“Fuck, babe. You’re so tight.”
Loki pulled at Thor’s head, enough to kiss him once more. Thor moaned in
pleasure, while those soft hands ran over his back and raked nails down his
flesh, and Loki kept his legs tight around his waist and bucked up in an
attempt to seek more friction. They locked eyes. They laughed. There was
nothing particularly funny, but somehow Thor wept through his laughter and
looked into those green eyes with an open-mouthed smile, and he knew . . . he
loved Loki. . . he licked at his lips and kissed Loki again in earnest.
“Move.” Loki gasped between kisses. “Move!”
Thor pulled out almost to the head. He slammed back inside. Loki raked his
nails hard down his back, drawing out long lines of blood, while he bucked his
hips in time to the thrusts, and – together – they entered a fast and regular
rhythm. The moans and groans from Loki were loud and broken, with each one
interrupting their kisses, so soon they were pressed mouth-to-mouth with clumsy
licks and suckles without any grace or elegance.
“That’s the spot,” moaned Loki. “There!”
“Does that silver tongue of yours ever turn to lead, Loki?”
“Fuck me hard enough and maybe we’ll find out.”
Thor rose to the challenge. He pounded harder and harder, until neither could
properly breathe, and a heavy sweat broke over their skin, until both were red
and Thor’s jeans fell with the moisture to clung uncomfortably mid-thigh. The
metal headboard smashed against the wall, while the bedsprings squeaked audibly
beneath them, and every thrust brought a squelch of lubrication and the sound
of testicles on buttocks. Thor choked on saliva, bringing another laugh from
Loki who slapped at his buttock. Thor asked:
“Does it hurt at all?”
“Discomfort . . . pleasure . . . good. Fucking good!”
Thor moved harder and faster. He accidentally exited Loki on occasion, drawing
a few chuckles and impatient whines, while he repositioned his member and tried
again, and Loki was clenching around him . . . inner walls fluttering . . . so
tight, so hot . . . it was nothing like Jane, while Loki was so passionate and
vocal and happy to mark him. Loki screamed. It pierced Thor’s ears and tore at
Loki’s throat, while his head bent back at a strange angle.
The walls contracted around his member. Ropes of come shot from Loki’s cock.
Thor felt the pulses of liquid against his stomach, while Loki shivered and
shuddered underneath him, and – as Loki choked and gasped – silence descended
and those legs fell limp on either side. Loki rolled his head to the side, eyes
rolled back into his head. He was thoroughly fucked. Thor could not stand the
sight, as he growled long and low and came deep inside Loki, rutting into him
and holding him tight. The come leaked around the sides of his length.
It was an intense pleasure. Every nerve came alive, while his vision turned
white, and all muscles turned to mush with an intense relaxation, as if every
ounce of stress fled his body and left him only with his beloved nephew in his
arms. Thor collapsed against Loki. The ecstasy of his orgasm slowly fading from
him, while he closed his eyes and let his now half-limp member stay lodged
inside Loki. He ignored the sound of the door clicking open.
“What is going on here?”
Thor groaned as light flooded the bedroom. It stung his eyes and forced him to
rapidly blink, as he strove to adjust his vision, but – as he slowly recovered
his senses – he saw Odin stood in the doorway clad only in a nightshirt. He was
pale. The good eye was wide and his chest was puffed out with a held breath,
and his hands were clenched into tight fists, while his lip curled on sight of
Thor on top of a Loki barely coming around to consciousness. A cold sweat
washed over Thor, as a terrible realisation tore at his stomach. He whispered
out a rushed:
“Holy fuck!”
Bile burned at the back of his throat, while Loki came around, and – as he
clamoured to get away from Loki – he quickly stuffed his wet member back into
his jeans and snatched at the blankets at the foot of the bed. He threw them
with trembling hands over Loki’s body, while Loki cried out in fear and crawled
to the corner of the bed with blankets now clutched around his naked and sweat-
soaked form. They both looked to Odin in terror.
Thor was on the verge of hyperventilating, as he ran to the ottoman at the base
of the bed, where he threw a neatly folded pile of clothes to Loki and gestured
to him to get changed, while Odin stepped further and further inside the room.
Thor threw up his hands in mock surrender. He blinked away tears, while he
walked in a strange semi-circle away from the bed, while never once taking his
eyes away from Odin, and – thankfully – Odin followed him with a curl of his
lip and panted breath. Thor let a tear fall, as he trembled out:
“I can explain –”
“You can explain?” Odin asked in a low voice. “You can explain why my teenage
grandson lies ravished in his bed by his uncle of all people? You can explain
this to me? You, Thor, have broken a sacred trust and soiled your nephew! This
is why you should have stayed away! Do you know what you have done? Do you care
what laws you have broken?”
“I – I didn’t plan to make love to him, I swear!” Thor glanced to Loki, already
half-dressed and still racing to completion. “If you have to get angry at
anyone, get angry at me and me alone, Father. Loki told me it was wrong. He
spurned my advances.”
“He is sixteen, Thor! You vain, greedy, cruel boy!”
“I – I apologise. I’m sorry, Father.”
Odin stormed forward, forcing Thor to stumble further backwards. He raised his
hands once more, only for Odin to slap them hard out of the way, and – with a
huge push – knocked Thor back against the wall where the force knocked the wind
from him. Odin let out such a loud and incoherent snarl that spit was sent
flying at Thor’s face, forcing him to turn his head and closed his eyes. His
heart raced. His hands shook. Odin leaned so close into his personal space that
he could see nothing else except those reddened cheeks.
“You dared to take advantage of Loki?”
“Loki,” called Thor. “Go to Sif’s!”
Odin grabbed Thor by the throat. It was a white-hot rage that he never before
saw in his father, but he simply grasped and scratched at the wrinkled skin
while he choked for breath, and – as he struggled to defend himself . . .
unwilling to harm the man that gave him life . . . he listened for Loki. He was
scrambling about the room. He grabbed the keys from the floor. It was clear he
was debating whether to leave or fight back. Thor screamed out:
“Now, Loki. Go!”
Loki did not need to be told twice. He ran.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
It was small.
Loki expected dormitories similar to the American shows. There was enough room
for a single bed and a large desk, with perhaps a foot of space between, and –
other than that – an en suite that consisted of a cramped shower cubicle with a
toilet and sink. The kitchen appeared to be shared and further down the
corridor, while the décor all around made him feel as if he stepped inside an
IKEA catalogue. He fought the urge to curl his lip.
Sif sat cross-legged on a chair beside the desk, with her black hair loose over
her shoulders, and the long t-shirt – that barely kept her modesty – looked a
lot like Fandral’s in style, enough that it made it clear where her heart
resided. The photos that lined the walls were mostly of Thor and Loki, as well
as Fandral, but a smaller collection was steadily growing . . . Hogun and
Volstagg, an overseas student and mature student respectively, smiled from the
wall where the photographs were tacked on in a haphazard manner.
It was as if Loki were expelled from their childhood group.
He looked away from the faces of the two newcomers. The bedroom was dark and
lit only by the bathroom light, as well as a cheap lamp on the table that
illuminated Sif from the side and cast shadows on the side of her face. Loki
glanced down into the cup of tea in his hands, still warm as the ceramic
scalded his flesh a deep red, and he narrowed his eyes to watch the puffs of
steam rise from the milky brown liquid. Sif let out a low hiss of breath, while
Loki’s phone buzzed incessantly from his pocket. He swirled the tea in his
hands. Sif asked:
“You slept together?”
Loki winced. The ache in his behind made it painful to sit, even as he adjusted
his weight on the bed, and he was well aware of the bruises on his hips and
bite-marks around his areolas, even if they were hidden behind layers of
clothes. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, while his heart raced in his
chest and he struggled to find breath. The cramped room added to a
claustrophobic sensation. He thought back to how Odin looked so furious, while
he struggled to dress and run from the house, and now he looked to Sif . . . so
disgusted. . .
The fear lingered that Odin might press charges. It was unlikely, as it would
decimate their family reputation and reduce their businesses to ashes, but
still he saw the curl of Sif’s lip and the narrowing of her eyes, and he knew .
. . he knew they could never be public with their relationship, at least in a
city where everyone knew them. Loki pursed his lips and licked them to rid them
of the dryness, while he said through a choked voice:
“I worry that Grandfather will disown him.”
“Loki, you’re the only one that can help Thor now.” Sif winced and shook her
head. “You must go to your grandfather and convince him to change his mind. He
will listen to you! He has always been protective of you, ever since I can
remember.”
“What can I say without knowing what story Thor has weaved? Thor appeared to be
taking the full weight of the blame when I left, so if I go in now . . . it
will only look like I’m lying to protect my uncle. No, I need to wait to see
what Thor said. If I can go into this prepared, perhaps I can work out a plan
to save both our skins. We are in this together.”
“I fear that may well be the issue,” muttered Sif.
Loki ignored the bitter tone. He sipped at the tea, which scalded his tongue
and burned his throat; the taste provided a distraction, while – with a long
sigh – Sif swung her legs onto the floor and fumbled around beneath the desk.
He watched as she pulled out a bottle of wine. The hiss that escaped his lips
was audible, enough to wrench a raising of the eyebrows from Sif, but she said
nothing as she fished out two glasses and gestured to him with one. He shook
his head and prepared to decline, but the objection had no time to leave his
lips.
There was a knock at the door.
The door opened without waiting for consent. Thor stood towering in the
doorway, with light from the corridor streaming behind him, and – without a
word – he slammed shut the door and marched towards the bed. He threw himself
hard onto the mattress, with no regard for Loki and without even a long enough
gaze to see who sat beside him, and he simply kicked off his boots and curled
into a half-foetal position, while he grunted a strange sound.
Loki shared a look with Sif. Sif simply shrugged and poured the wine with a
yawn, while glancing less than covertly towards the clock, and – with its glow-
in-the-dark hands – Loki winced to realise that it would be easier to stay
awake than to attempt sleep. He reached out to Thor and touched his leg. Thor
jerked it away. It was difficult to sit so helplessly beside him, even as Loki
carefully slid his cup onto the windowsill, but he smiled weakly as Thor buried
his face into Sif’s pillows and used all his strength to tease:
“It went that well?”
Thor rolled over onto his back. It was difficult to see his expression through
the shadows, but the bruise about his cheek was harder to miss . . . the white
of his left eye was bright red, while a deep cut ran over his eyebrow, and the
skin around his cheekbone was a hideous shade of blue and purple. The area was
swollen, enough that he appeared to squint in an attempt to see the world
around him. Loki’s stomach rolled. Tears rose.
“Jesus, Thor,” gasped Sif.
Sif grabbed a flannel from the desk; she ran to the bathroom, where there was a
hiss of water, and ran back while still wringing the flannel, so that water
spilled all over the tiled floor, and – with an almost violent gesture – threw
herself beside Thor. The flannel was folded into neat quarters, before she
draped it lightly over his eyes. He cried out in pain. Loki held tight to his
legs, as if seeking to keep him in place as his back arched and swears escaped
his lips, but Thor soon fell back with panted breaths and soft chuckles. Loki
whispered:
“Did he do this to you, Thor?”
“He disowned me,” muttered Thor. “He disowned me, before he threatened to cut
me off. I laughed at him. I told him that everyone takes out student loans
here, that they would cover me through my entire education, and that I didn’t
need his money. He asked what I will do through the holidays . . . where I will
stay, how I will survive . . .”
“Fandral’s parents rented us a place by the river,” said Sif. “You can stay
with us during the summer, but everyone moves out of dorms for their second
year anyway. I’ll make sure that you find somewhere to stay. You won’t be
homeless, I swear.”
“He’s given me a week to pick up my stuff.”
“Helblindi is in town,” added Loki. “Whether he wishes to call himself my
‘uncle’ or ‘brother’ is beyond me, but he does seek desperately to have a
friendship with me. I am more than happy to pull some strings and have him help
us drag your belongings to Sif’s place. It can stay there until you get a place
of your own. It’ll be a day job at most.”
Thor laughed until he cried. It was a broken sound, made all the more awkward
by the sense of helplessness that came with it, and – as Loki swallowed back a
painful lump – he stroked at Thor’s legs and massaged at his calves. Sif
stroked at his hair, while she kept her head low and avoided their gazes. Music
blared from another room. It was heavy with a fast beat, while someone laughed
from the hallway, and the idea that life could go on . . . that people could
smile while Thor so suffered . . . broke something inside Loki. Sif whispered:
“Do we call the police or –?”
Thor raised a hand and attempted to shake his head. The movement brought a hiss
of breath, as he clasped his hand over the compress and winced, but he
otherwise showed no further sign of pain even as he paled. Loki continued to
knead at his legs, desperate for something to distract himself and help Thor in
any small way, while he kept his head low and fought back tears that blurred
his vision and stung his eyes. Thor muttered back in a quiet voice:
“If we report him, he will report me.”
“You mean us?” Loki asked.
“No, Loki.” Thor shrugged. “I took the blame. I told him that I have been
trying to seduce you since you turned sixteen, and that you kept rejecting me
and rejecting me, until I cornered you last night and pressured you into
agreement. That’s when he hit me. He told me the only reason he wouldn’t report
me is that you technically consented, but if he ever saw me near you again -
? He’d call the police and have me arrested.”
“Can he do that?” Loki asked. “Isn’t it -?”
“You took my car to get here.” Thor smirked and let a tear fall. “I’m glad we
got you that provisional license and some lessons. Anyway, I took a cab over
here. It gave me time to look some stuff up; apparently uncle-nephew incest
isn’t illegal here, except when one of you is a minor, as it’s a breach of
trust . . . age of consent be damned.”
“I think you misunderstood that law. I looked this up, Thor; I think the
punishment would be harsher for you with me as a minor, but I’m sure it’s
illegal either way. The good news is that I’m sure we can be openly together in
the Netherlands or Belgium.”
“Regardless of legality,” Sif said, “what happens now?”
Thor struggled to sit upright. He leaned against a cushioned headboard, while
he rested one leg and arm along the wall that ran long the bed, and – with a
hand on the compress – struggled to look between them with his one good eye.
Loki knew Thor’s room was only a few doors down, but even that short distance
would be difficult for him to travel with the sheer fatigue that shone through
every tensed muscle. Thor’s lips trembled. He drew in a shaking breath and
swallowed hard, before he said in a low voice:
“I guess now I accept I have no family.”
Loki reached out for his foot, where he massaged the bare flesh. It was free
from any bruises or blisters, but the tension was apparent and the exhaustion
clear, so that every inch he worked on brought low moans from Thor. Sif sighed
and walked back to her desk. The books piled besides folders spoke of devotion
to her studies, while the timetable pinned to her wall spoke of someone who
scheduled even sleep. Loki smiled and looked back to Thor.
“You have me,” swore Loki.
“A secret relationship with my nephew?”
“He’ll never know, Thor.” Loki blinked away tears. “We’ll keep our physical
distance, at least until I turn eighteen, and we’ll just message and video-chat
every day. Look, I swear to you that I’ll stick with you come hell or high
water, and I won’t let you go through this alone, so just tell me what you need
me to do and I’ll do it. I’m by your side.”
“Right now, Loki? I just need a drink . . . a lot of drinks.”
“I’ve got you covered,” chirped Sif.
Sif poured the wine to fill the two glasses to the brim, where the red liquid
threatened to spill at the slightest jolt, and – as a terrible nausea coursed
through Loki – his hands gripped hard on Thor’s feet until Thor cried out in
pain. Loki let go of him. He wrapped trembling arms around his chest, while Sif
wandered over and handed Thor a glass of wine that smelled delicious and looked
like blood. Thor caught Loki’s expression and mumbled:
“You need to go home, Loki.”
Loki blinked in surprise. He widened his eyes and opened his mouth, before he
curled his lip and looked between them with half-squinted eyes. Thor gulped
down the wine, even as Sif sipped with elegant grace, and – surprising even her
– he slammed the glass down on the table and barked out: ‘another’. Sif walked
back to the desk, where she came back and poured another glass for him. It
would clearly be a long night. Loki clenched his fists by his sides, as he drew
in a deep intake of breath and watched Thor swallow some more. Loki spat:
“You can’t be serious!”
“He thinks you’re the innocent pawn,” said Thor. “You need his money. You get
shelter, food, phone bills paid, computers provided, school trips funded . . .
why should both of us suffer? I’m also afraid if you try to leave, he’ll press
charges like he’s threatened. Let’s just wait until you turn eighteen, okay?
Just play the part of an obedient son until then.”
“You expect me to go back to the man who struck you?” Loki gritted his teeth
until his jaw ached. “You need to get your eye looked at, Thor. You also need
someone to make sure you don’t drink yourself into an early grave. Is this how
you’ll cope? Wine and tears?”
“Loki, I love you, but I will not see you suffer! Go home.”
“How can I leave after you were so badly hurt?”
“He’s liable to report you as missing.”
Loki winced. The terrible truth was that Odin would likely report him as
missing, which would have led to police intervention and possibly an
investigation, and – unwilling to bring further pain down on Thor – he stood to
shaky feet and let his eyes blur with tears. Thor would not meet his gaze.
Instead, he looked down into the wine and let deep lines mar his brow while he
gnawed at his lip. The compress leaked water down his cheek.  
Loki gently pushed past Sif, as he crouched on the side of the bed. He placed a
chaste kiss to the compress, before he pressed another to Thor’s lips, and –
despite his pain – Thor parted his lips in turn and allowed the kiss to linger.
They shared a warm breath, while eyes met and tears streamed from Thor’s good
eye. Loki kissed away each and every one. It took all his strength to pull away
and walk those few steps to the desk, where he glared at the wine bottle with
the taste of bile at the back of his throat. Thor choked out:
“Leave my keys here.”
“How will I get back home?”
“Wake up Fandral,” said Thor. “Tell him that he owes me for last Saturday.
He’ll complain and grumble, so just slip him five pounds as a ‘thank you’, and
he’ll drive you home while bitching about me the entire time. Tell Father
you’re sorry. He’ll forgive you.”
The room grew cold around them. Loki let out a staggered breath, as he dropped
the car keys onto the table beside Sif’s textbooks, and licked at the salty
tears that collected on his lips, before he realised that he was crying through
his pain. He laughed and wiped at his face. Thor fished around his pockets and
withdrew a five pound note, reaching out to Loki so that he could take it for
the necessary bribe. Their fingers touched, where they paused with a spark of
electricity, and each smiled a sad and empty smile. Loki whispered to him:
“I love you, Thor.”
Loki took the money and walked with head low. He moved to Sif’s door and paused
with hand on the doorknob, where his trembling fingers held tight for something
to ground them, and – as he briefly closed his eyes – he forcibly slowed his
breaths. The air burned his throat, while tears gathered in his eyes, and yet
he knew Thor would want him to return home. Fandral was a five-minute walk away
in another building, but it was safer than any other alternative. Thor groaned
from the bed and finally called back:
“I love you, too, Loki.”
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
“Loki, you are home.”
Frigga ran straight for him. Those warm arms encircled him, as they held him
tight, and the scent of perfume flooded his senses. Frigga buried her face into
the crook of his neck, while tears sprang at the corners of her eyes, so that –
as he rested his hands on her back – he felt every wracked sob and choked
breath. He blinked away tears in turn, as he let out a shuddered sigh and held
her tight in turn. The warmth of her body comforted him.
He noted the long gown on her frame, while her hair hung loose about her
shoulders. There were bags underneath her eyes, while her cheeks were pale and
sunken, and – as she pulled back with a small sniff – he knew that for her it
was likely a sleepless night. The lights were low in the hall, but the sunrise
was starting to creep through the arched windows above the main doors, so that
long shadows were cast across the hall towards the main staircase. They stole
his attention and forced him to look upward. Odin stood tall and alone.
There was a great sense of solemn resignation. He stood with hair long and
loose, with a matching gown to Frigga covering his body and white in design,
and – with a golden eye-patch – there was something otherworldly about his
appearance. Odin slowly walked down the stairs and kept his gaze locked on
Loki; Frigga pulled away with a few more sniffles and shaky smiles, as she ran
her hands over Loki’s black hair and pale cheeks.
“Loki,” whispered Odin. “My boy. My grandson.”
He gently reached out for Loki, while Frigga stepped back. Two surprisingly
firm and muscled arms pulled him against a hard chest and growing belly, while
the wrinkles of age bore several tearstains in turn, as he silently wept on
sight of Loki. The hug was less comfortable than the last, but the intent was
clear . . . Frigga sought to comfort, Odin sought to protect . . . he held with
strength and locked his arms into place. He held tight.
Loki kept rigid, until Odin finally pulled back. He saw no trace of the man who
blackened Thor’s eye, although there was still a faint red mark across his
knuckles, and he wondered whether that old skin would bruise from the impact.
Odin caught his gaze. He frowned and slapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder,
preventing him from staring at his hand, and – with a gentle squeeze – nodded
to the direction of the lounge doors. Odin took a few steps towards the lounge,
while pulling Loki along with him. He kept a weak smile on his lips.
“Let us talk,” said Odin.
They headed inside the lounge. The couch was made up with a blanket and many
cushions, while a tall glass of water sat on the low table, and – as Loki sat
at the far end – he realised Frigga likely slept downstairs while waiting for
his return. The armchair opposite equally held a blanket, where Odin sat with
the fabric bending beneath him and wrinkling from the pressure, while he ran a
hand over bearded chin and jaws. Frigga took a seat beside Loki, as she leaned
into the cushions and let forth a low sigh with eyes that threatened to close.
The clocked ticked loudly from the mantelpiece. Loki chanced a look through the
low lighting, made worse by the heavy drapes and closed windows, to realise it
was so early that it crossed over into ‘late’. In an hour or two, Odin would
have been awake for a day of business meetings and various correspondences.
Odin cleared his throat. He drew in a deep breath, while he looked to Loki and
asked in a low and deep voice:
“Did you consent?”
Thor’s story ran through Loki’s mind. He clenched his fists by his sides, until
his knuckles turned white with the pressure, and – with slow breaths – he
strove to still his racing heart, even as it pulsed loudly in his ears. Loki
ran his eyes over Odin, where he saw the way that jaw clenched and how that eye
shimmered. He was caught somewhere between anger and sorrow. He was conflicted
between anger at Thor and grief for Loki. Loki licked and gnawed at his lip, as
he sank back into the sofa cushions and coldly said:
“Does it matter?”
“Oh, my love,” called Frigga. “Of course it matters.”
“We’ve always held some mutual attraction,” muttered Loki. “I resisted for as
long as I could, but he insisted that we would be good together . . . I didn’t
want to make love to him, but he kept insisting and insisting and insisting . .
. I didn’t say ‘yes’, but I didn’t say ‘no’ either. I just wanted him to feel
good and to maybe leave me alone. That’s all.”
“You must cut all ties with him,” commanded Odin. “I have already lost one
child, Loki, but to lose two further and have lost all in total? No. You must
be aware that this is illegal. If Thor is uncovered, he would be arrested and
charged. Do you not see this to be wrong?”
“Of course,” lied Loki. “That is why we said our goodbyes.”
“He accepted that? Loki, if you were to grow up and enter a relationship with
him, no matter whether he pressured you or you felt obliged -? If the law were
to see it as consensual, you would also be subject to the full weight of the
law. That is the truth of the situation.”
“Your father is right,” added Frigga. “If you have truly cut ties now, all can
be well for both you and for Thor. He can move on with life, perhaps find a
wife who will sate his needs, and he can grow to have a family and a career. It
can be the same for you. If you allow a relationship to continue, either one or
both of you shall risk imprisonment.”
Odin leaned forward. He rested his forearms on his knees, as he bent his back
and lowered his head, and – as he drew in a deep breath – the exhaustion
deepened the lines about his face, aging him in such a way that Loki felt pain
to look at him. Frigga reached out to touch on Loki’s arm with her fingertips,
but she half-lay against the cushions and her body was fatigued, so that her
touch barely connected. Odin in turn half-raised his head, so his gaze met
Loki’s face and yet did not quite meet his eyes. Odin said in a whisper:
“There is also the issue of an abuse of trust.”
“He didn’t abuse my trust,” spat Loki.
“You are too young to see it, but yes . . . he did.” Odin ran a hand over his
face. “He was your uncle, Loki. He was two years your elder, as well as a legal
adult. He experienced life beyond your experiences. It was his duty to say ‘no’
and his responsibility to avoid coercion. One day you may experience trauma
from this event. It is why I seek for you to attend therapy.”
“Therapy? You think I need a therapist?”
“It will help you to cope, Loki,” said Frigga in a soft voice. “You will learn
to process what happened, as well as to find closure from events, and they will
be able to teach you coping mechanisms should this provide the trauma that
could well occur. If you will not go for yourself, I ask that you go for me.
Humour me, Loki. Go to therapy.”
Loki scoffed and furrowed his brow. The tears burned at his eyes, although they
refused to fall, and they blurred his vision and stung with the sweat. He
choked back on the saliva that collected in his throat, while he thought to the
inevitable therapy . . . judged for the actions of his family, patronised about
an act to which he consented, told what to think and how to feel and who to
socialise . . .Loki looked to the photographs on the walls. How long until the
ones of Thor were torn down or lost, just like those of Hela? Loki asked:
“Why do you prefer me over Thor?”
Odin jerked his head back, as he blinked rapidly. He looked between Loki and
Frigga, while Frigga took her hand away from Loki, and – as she clasped her
hands on her lap – she kept her head low and refused to make eye-contact with
either man. The lack of communication almost brought laughter to Loki’s lips.
It was just like his family to deny or hide from all difficult topics, even
when those same topics threatened to destroy them all.
“I do not play favourites,” said Odin.
“You do,” answered Loki. “I want to know why.”
Odin stood and walked over to the windows. He drew back the drapes, so that the
sunrise slowly provided some light through the netting over the garden wall,
and shadows were cast about the lounge with an intensity that only added to the
eerie atmosphere. Loki gnawed at his lips, as tears finally fell and Frigga –
with a loud gasp of ‘no’ – sat upright and wrapped her arms around his
shoulders. He allowed her to pull him close, while his chest hurt and stomach
contracted. He tasted bile at the back of his throat, as Odin finally admitted:
“I see Hela in you, Loki.”
“My mother?”
“Aye.” Odin swallowed hard. “I thought that I would hate you, at least at
first. You were the blood of Laufey, the man that stole away my wife and was my
rival in business, and for a while I loathed you for seeing him in your
expressions. You bore his high cheekbones and large brow, as well as his frowns
and his smirks, and I feared you would become like him. I still wanted to
protect you, but you were more a pawn in our continuous game.
“Little did I know that I would love you, Loki. I saw you smile one day, which
was a smile so exactly alike your mother that I laughed, and I remembered all
the good times we shared and the bad times we endured, before – that is – she
began an affair with her step-father to torment me and get revenge upon me for
my changed ways. I saw her in you.
“I saw all that she could have been . . . might have been . . .”
“She died a drunk who scarred my forehead.”
Loki cried in earnest, even as his heart raced with rage. He tried to pull away
from Frigga, but she pressed his head against her shoulder and stroked at his
black hair, and Odin – with a shake of his head – moved back to his chair and
slumped down with muttered complaints. It was difficult to breathe. Loki choked
on the air, as he gulped back the rising sickness, and all the while he thought
to Hela . . . he saw the few surviving photographs, he saw the police reports
and newspaper clippings, he saw the obituary . . . Odin broke his thoughts
with:
“Hela died a broken woman. I broke her.”
“Husband,” said Frigga, “I –”
“No, I do not require sympathies.” Odin wiped away a tear. “I once led a life
of organised crime, in which she was deeply involved, and that was a mistake I
would always come to regret, as she never could accept my changed ways when I
met your grandmother. Frigga showed me right from wrong, as well as the
importance of patience and respect, and – while I am far from perfect – each
day I live a legitimate lifestyle -? I am happy.
“I should have forced Hela into therapy. I should have twisted her arm into
rehab. I should have been more present in her life, as I lead her away from
Laufey and Fárbauti. Instead, I chastised and criticised and demanded she
change as I changed, but change cannot be forced and must come from within. Do
you know why she scratched you, Loki? Did I tell you?”
“I never asked,” said Loki. “You had no reason to tell me.”
“Loki, she sought to take you and raise you alone. I prevented her, due to how
drunk and dangerous she acted, but – even in the worst of her states – you were
the first and foremost thing in her mind. Hela snatched out to take you, just
as I turned to protect you, and she accidentally caught at your forehead. It
was unforgiveable, but it was understandable. It is also what caused her to
start the fire. Hela loved you, Loki.”
A cold silence lingered. The only sounds were that of Loki’s sobs and Frigga’s
hushed sounds of comfort, while Odin let out long hisses of breath, and – as
they all sat together in a shared pain – Loki heard his phone buzz from within
his pocket. It would be Thor or Fandral, but to answer at that time would be to
alert Odin to their sworn loyalty and sustained contact. He ignored the call.
He drew in deep breaths and pulled away from Frigga, as he wiped at his eyes
and tried not to look at the concern writ across her features. Loki sighed.
“It is why I must protect you,” said Odin. “Thor has Frigga. Thor has Sif and
Fandral who came here from Iceland to be with him, just as he has Hogun and
Volstagg who he has fast become friends, and yet . . . you have no one. You
keep to yourself. You were home-schooled most of your life. I failed my
daughter, but I will do right by my grandson. I will shun Thor if it means to
protect you. You will always be my priority, Loki.”
“You would protect me to protect some monster?” Loki curled his lip. “My so-
called mother would have preferred a tumbler of whiskey to a moment with me,
but yet I am supposed to consider her the victim? Helblindi calls himself my
brother, but Býleistr my uncle, and yet both are correct . . . she caused that
confusion. She tangled our family trees. Shedid that!”
“Loki, I will not deny that –”
“Maybe I am like her?” Loki blinked away tears with a cold laugh. “Here I am
sleeping with Thor despite our familial ties . . . here I’m breaking up our
family . . . all I need is a half-finished bottle of wine in hand to complete
the image. How can you claim to love me when I’m so much like her? Will you
hate me, too? Will you hate me as I hate me?”
Loki raised a hand to his lips.
The words could not be unspoken. He widened his eyes and opened his mouth wide,
while he looked between them with a cold sweat that broke over his skin . . .
it ran like ice, uncomfortable and with a needle-like pain . . . he let out
several gasps, before a broken laugh emitted from his throat and he shook his
head. Frigga reached out to him. He slapped away her hand. Loki climbed to his
feet, as he paced back and forth with all eyes on him, while his hand moved to
his phone that buzzed over and over. Loki said through his laughter:
“Shit . . . maybe I do need a therapist, after all.”
Frigga stood to her feet; far younger than Odin, there was no sign of a tremble
or bone deep ache, and she stepped forward with a grace and speed that he
lacked. Loki swung around and stumbled backward a few steps. Frigga froze and
raised her hands in mock surrender, while he curled his lip and stared hard at
Odin. Odin remained silent with eye fixated on the floor, no longer making any
movement and no longer speaking a word. Frigga begged:
“Loki, please, you need to –”
“I’m going to my room,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to check on me. I’m not
going to drink myself into a stupor or burn down the house, but just . . .
leave me alone. Please, I just need time to think. Thor’s gone. I’m here. I
just . . . need to think. I’m sorry.”
Loki ran out of the lounge. The sun was coming up high, so that the hall was
lit bright, and he took the stairs two at a time, with his shadow thrown long
and deep over the stairwell, as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He threw
himself into his room; the door slammed shut with a loud crash, while the scent
of extinguished candles and heavy sweat still lingered in the air, and he
laughed to see the wrinkled sheets and a few spots of blood over by the far
wall. It must have been where Thor was struck. There was even a tear on the
wallpaper.
He pulled out his phone and unlocked the screen . . . ‘fandral says he saw you
go inside’, ‘let me know how father reacted’, ‘if he’s being violent then call
me’, ‘why aren’t you answering’, ‘i’m worried loki’, ‘tell me you’re okay’. . .
 Loki laughed and wiped away a tear, as he resisted the urge to chastise Thor’s
grammar. He struggled to text back, as fingers trembled and sweat made the
phone slip in his hand, but with all his strength he typed out:
‘Thor, I wish you were here.’
Loki quickly changed the background to his phone. The photograph was taken
during their last family vacation, set on the backdrop of the Tokyo cityscape,
and – as they wrapped their arms around one another – both bore bright smiles
of laughter that brought tears to their eyes, while the camera shook just
slightly with Frigga’s laughter in turn. Loki smiled, even as his lips shook
and his chest tightened. The screen soon went dark. The photograph disappeared,
while the despair and grief finally washed over Loki. He could do nothing else.
Loki wept.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
Loki kicked at a stray bottle.
It rolled across the lounge, where it knocked Fandral’s foot. Fandral jumped
awake from his chair, while an array of supposedly ‘humorous’ items fell from
his chest and face, and – realising that his friends had made a balancing game
from his sleeping form – he frowned and wiped away the ink from his cheeks.
There were food wrappers strewn across the floor, along with random items of
clothing hanging from pieces of furniture.
Fandral stood and cricked his neck. The beard on his face was slightly longer,
grown over the past year into a more fashionable style, while the calendar
behind him bore large crosses to mark down the days to the start of their
second year at university. A final celebration . . . laughter from the spare
room from a strange couple, the stench of alcohol soaked into the carpets, a
broken microwave still emitting smoke. . . Loki curled his lip and hugged his
leather coat tightly around his chest, unwilling to touch a single item.
The house was still packed with boxes in the lounge. Loki read the labels, as
he noticed most belonged to Thor and contained a lifetime of possessions, while
a small few were labelled in Jane’s handwriting and destined for the new study
located downstairs. If Thor continued to throw such parties, the deposit paid
only two weeks ago would be null-and-void. Loki kicked at a bent can of beer
that leaked from the popped tab. Fandral muttered out:
“I don’t suppose you want a drink?”
Volstagg let out a loud and bellowing laugh. He leaned against the kitchen
doorframe, evidently sober and awfully chipper for just past sunrise, and – as
he tied an apron around his expansive stomach – he waved to Loki with a bright
smile. Volstagg kicked at Hogun who slept slumped over on the floor, before he
grabbed a black bin-bag and wandered about in search of rubbish to dispose.
 Loki stepped onto the staircase so as to avoid getting in his way, while
Fandral hunted for lost items of clothes and cursed his half-nude state.
Volstagg asked:
“Isn’t Loki still too young to drink?”
“He’s seventeen,” muttered Fandral. “He might not be able to buy alcohol, but I
believe he’s allowed to drink whatever he wants. Plus, there’s something
dreadfully depressing at being the only sober person in the room, so we’re
really doing him a favour! Say, where has Sif gone? I thought she was my ride
home for the night.”
“Sif left,” murmured Hogun. “She took the car.”
“You were too drunk to drive anyway,” chirped Volstagg. “I’ll drive you back
once we’ve cleared this place up a bit. I believe Jane is due back tonight, so
the very last thing that poor girl needs is a mess of this size to clean up.
It’s very taxing in her condition.”
“Oh, please! I’m sure she can excuse a one-off party.”
“Not one that lasted all weekend!”
Loki let out a hiss of breath. He quirked an eyebrow and shook his head, while
he bit the inside of his lip to refrain from chastising the men over how they
spent their summer break, and – with university only a few days away – he
doubted Thor would find time to unpack. It was a shame that Grandfather was not
around to chastise him, as a few sharp words would always prompt him to tidy
his room as children, but now he was content to wallow like an animal in filth.
Loki could only hope Jane would not permit such atrocities. Loki observed:
“I bet Sif is glad to have Thor out of her flat.”
“Sif was certainly glad to be rid of all his things,” admitted Fandral. “He
really was a bit of a spoiled prince, wasn’t he? I’ve never known a man to own
so many things! We were relieved when he and Jane were able to rent this place,
because there’s far more room for him to spread out. Who has an entire box just
for capes and formalwear?”
“Grandfather has an entire drawer just for eye-patches,” admitted Loki. “I
believe he started to treasure even the smallest possessions after losing all
he owned in the fire, as the knowledge of how material objects are so temporary
and transient lingers in his mind.”
“Well, let’s just hope Thor doesn’t keep his hoarding tendencies.”
“Let’s just hope Thor manages to keep his liver.”
Loki clenched his jaw and fists. He caught Hogun looking with blurred eyes,
while Fandral furrowed his brow and placed hands on his hips, and – clearly –
neither appreciated being criticised over their drinking habits. Loki glanced
up the stairwell. British houses tended to be cramped at the best of times, but
he did not expect for converted student accommodation to be so claustrophobic,
even for a turn-of-the-century terraced house. He curled his lip and resisted
the need to balance himself with the banister, and instead called out:
“I’m going upstairs to see my uncle.”
It was easy to find Thor’s bedroom. There was a lock on Jane’s door, while the
bathroom was located downstairs off the kitchen, and that left only one other
door, which was plastered with a collage of photographs all tacked on with
tape. The ones of Loki were most prominent, but many of Sif and Fandral also
lay dominant. There were none of Odin. Loki pulled on his leather gloves, as he
took the doorknob in hand and opened the bedroom door.
The bedroom was filled to the brim with boxes, all unopened and taking up vast
space along a far wall, and only the bed and desk provided an ounce of space.
Thor stood by the large windows, which overlooked the houses on the street
behind, and – as he stood, clad only in low-hanging boxers – Loki licked at his
lips and closed the door behind him. It was difficult not to admire that body.
The past few months had only added to the muscle and physique, providing a
great deal of definition and making Thor look almost like a god.
Thor jumped as the door clicked.
He spun around, but stumbled over his feet. It took him a moment to right
himself, while a few bottles rolled out from the force of his toes against
glass, and – as he laughed like a drunken fool – he found strength to run over
to Loki. Two bulging arms wrapped around him, swinging him around as if he
weighed nothing and wasn’t almost Thor’s exact height, and soon he was thrown
onto the bed where Thor jumped after him. Loki smiled as Thor crawled over him,
with long blond hair falling down to shadow his face. Thor chirped:
“Loki, you managed to sneak out!”
Loki caught the stench of beer on his breath. He saw how those blue eyes
dilated, as crinkles appeared in the corners with the force of his smile, and
he saw how sincere Thor seemed to see him, even as his cheeks flushed red and
he struggled to balance over Loki. The bed was lumpy and hard beneath him, but
the blankets soft and expensive as they lay stolen from Odin’s house before
Thor left, and Loki – with a soft touch – reached up to stroke the rough hair
of Thor’s beard and rub his thumb over those chapped lips.
“I told them I was going to the public library.”
“He believed that?” Thor asked.
“Our home library is extensive,” admitted Loki. “I purposely chose psychology
as one of my three subjects, however, and Grandfather never held much stock by
that area of science. It’s given me quite the excuse to always need various
book stores and libraries, although he has begged for me to continue into law
as he has done. I have around four hours, anyway.”
“He doesn’t want you home for your birthday?”
“No, but I do need to be back four hours from now.” Loki winced and bit into
his lip. “He says that a boy only turns seventeen once. We’re spending a week
in New York, a week in Toronto, and then transferring in Paris to spend several
days there. I’ve been hired a private tutor, so I won’t miss work from my first
few weeks of term. It’s all covered.”
“You sound disappointed by that,” teased Thor. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Loki.
The minute we come out with our relationship, he’ll likely cut all funding to
you . . . it’s been tough living alone; Sif was great to store my stuff for a
while, but there was a mad rush to find a place to live before they kicked us
out of the dorms. The minute student funding runs out once Jane and I graduate,
there’ll be another mad rush to find work to make rent, too.”
Thor collapsed beside Loki. He stared up at the ceiling, while Loki shirked his
coat and tossed it onto the desk, and soon Loki was pulled down onto the bed,
where he was rolled onto his back and a rough hand tapped firmly at his
shoulder. Loki chuckled and awkwardly removed his jumper, throwing it alongside
his coat. The air was cold. It brought goosebumps to his skin. Thor hummed in
contentment, while he reached underneath the pillow and pulled out a plastic
bottle of massage oil. It was uncapped with a loud click, as Loki asked:
“How did you even get Jane to agree to live with you?”
Thor poured the oil over the small of Loki’s back. It brought a yelp from
Loki’s lips, as he recoiled at the cold sensation, but – with a light chuckle –
Thor ran his hands through the oil and soon warmed it against his skin. Loki
murmured as thick and callused fingers pressed into his knots and worked at his
muscles, while he pulled the pillow beneath his head and rested quite
comfortably even on the uncomfortable mattress. Thor muttered:
“We make good friends.”
“You cheated on her with me,” said Loki.
“Yes, but she’s with Donald again now.” Thor shrugged. “There’s also the fact
that she’s a transfer student, while Darcy and Eric are surprisingly awful
roommates, and it was easiest for us to live together and share on rent. Jane
graduates at the end of this year, so I’m also the only person she knows who
would still need a place nearby as a student, and . . .”
“The cancer,” muttered Loki. “She can’t move far because of the cancer.”
“Yeah, treatment is a bitch and this hospital is pretty great. Donald is able
to drive her to all her appointments, while I’m able to cook her all the meals
she needs to get all the nutrients and calories without upsetting her stomach .
. . benefits of doing a Health and Fitness degree.”
“Thor, how long has it been since you left? Eight months? Nine? Ten? You
suffered being disowned by Grandfather, cast out with nothing but the items in
your bedroom, and have since endured this open secret with your friends and now
Jane with breast cancer -?” Loki winced. “I worry, Thor. How are you coping? I
see bottles strewn about your rooms.”
The rough hands paused on his shoulders. Thor let out a loud exhale of breath,
before he resumed his massage of Loki, but – this time – there was enough
pressure to become uncomfortable and Loki let out a hiss of discomfort. He
pushed himself upward and rolled onto his back, while he braced himself on his
elbows with a dark glare. Thor glared back. The massage continued, as Thor
worked on Loki’s stomach, and Loki moaned despite himself, as he arched his
back and spread his legs to allow Thor better access. Thor asked:
“You think I’m a drunk?”
Loki snatched at Thor’s wrists. There were times when massages existed for
massages sake, when the intimacy between them was simply about bonding and
physical contact, but at other times Thor would work Loki’s stomach . . .
hardening length, broken sweat, choked cries . . .he was trying to distract
Loki with arousal, leading him into sexual acts. It brought a hiss of breath
from Loki, who jerked his head to the bed beside him. Thor sighed and dropped
down, pulling Loki flush against a chiselled chest for a warm embrace. Loki
said:  
“I think you’ve woken up drunk many mornings.”
“I’m not an alcoholic, Loki.”
“I never said you were,” spat Loki. “I merely observed that you seem to rely on
alcohol to get you through the day! I’ve seen the posts online with you having
drinking contests with Eric or Steve, always knocking Eric out with how much
he’s drunk, and it never seems to leave a dent in you, does it? I’ve seen how
you have a beer with every meal. I’ve seen you smash glasses in bars while
screaming ‘another’. I – I can’t watch you waste away like her.”
“Loki, I’m just being social. If I wanted to stop, I could stop!” Thor smiled
and shrugged. “I just don’t want to stop, that’s all, but that doesn’t mean I’m
a drunk . . . my grades are still high, my friends still adore me, I’m still
helping Jane where I can . . . I’m also learning about the meaning of ‘worth’
and starting to better myself. I’m improving, Loki.”
“I know, Thor, but it’s just –”
“I’ve learnt that worth doesn’t come from strength alone. I shouldn’t
antagonise. I shouldn’t fight first and ask questions later, just as I
shouldn’t retaliate to blatant baiting, and sometimes you have to talk to
people on their level . . . like how you and Father always avoid open
communication, instead relying on manipulation and hidden meanings.
“My worth comes from sacrifice. It comes from putting others first, while
thinking less of myself, and it’s my duty to be strong both for myself and
others. If I put myself in danger, I’m taking a risk that means I’m unable to
later help others . . . I can’t help you if I’m dead, I can’t help Jane if I’m
in prison . . . I need to be strong. I need to be mature. It’s just – It’s just
a heavy weight, especially knowing what I risk if I fail. I already lost our
family.”
Loki stroked at Thor’s forearm. They were wrapped around his abdomen, while a
bearded mouth pressed itself to the crook of his neck, and every breath
reverberated against him, providing a small comfort as it reminded him of
Thor’s presence. Thor was warm against him, while the light from outside
streamed through the window and fell on their bare bodies, and Loki wished that
they were completely nude. He wanted that intimacy. He wanted no barrier
between them. Loki traced strange patterns with his fingertips on soft skin.
“I almost admire you,” whispered Loki.
“Almost? Not completely?”
“No one else in our family feels that level of duty.”
Thor laughed and pressed a kiss to his neck, followed by another and another,
until he reached Loki’s shoulder and rolled him over, and stroked at Loki’s
cheek with the back of his fingers. It was a gentle and relaxing touch, while
Loki reached out to stroke at his cheeks in turn with a faint smile. Thor
murmured in contentment. He let his hands slide lower to grasp around his neck
and run his thumb along a pronounced jaw, as he teased:
“I must get it from Mother.”
Loki laughed in turn. He pushed Thor onto his back and sat astride him, while
he reached for the massage oil and sought to return the favour, and – catching
the cherry scent – he realised that there were other usages for the oil should
the morning progress. Loki enjoyed how firm and solid the muscles felt beneath
his hands. He purposely caught Thor’s nipples on every upward stroke, while he
traced his fingertips over every ridge and crease, and he knew he could worship
Thor’s body for hours on end if time allowed. Thor smiled.
Loki frowned, as he listened to a clock tick on the wall. The phone in his coat
pocket buzzed, where Odin likely phoned to verify his whereabouts, and the sun
rose ever higher in the sky as time drifted by them. Loki kept massaging the
chest he so adored, but he allowed his eyebrows to knit together and his lips
to purse into a thin line. Thor let out a long sigh. He reached upward to cup
Loki’s neck and asked in a low whisper:
“Is everything okay with you, Loki?”
“No,” admitted Loki. “Laufey wants a relationship.”
“Your biological father?”
“Hmm.” Loki pressed harder. “I get on well with Helblindi, while Býleistr has
always been good to me, but I have never felt a real urge to communicate with
Laufey. I hid from him. I hid from Fárbauti. He has been insistent ever since
you accidentally tagged me on that public post, but if I start any form of
relationship with him . . . would Odin disown me?”
“Why would he disown you for that?”
“He divorced Fárbauti who then married his rival. He never forgave Hela for
sleeping with him in a petty act of revenge, but yet he would be accepting of
me seeking to form a tentative relationship with him and remaining in contact
with him? I don’t think so. In any case, the only reason I would have to play
nice with Laufey would be to use him.”
“To gain Father’s trust further? You’re already his favourite. If you seek to
sabotage Laufey, you could end up losing Father’s trust entirely. He left that
old life behind for a reason. If he thinks you’ve become like him . . . like
Hela . . . he might resent that, Loki.”
“He’ll disown me when I turn eighteen, anyway.”
Thor froze beneath Loki, as his muscles tensed and jaw clenched. They locked
eyes as the uneasy truth lay unspoken between them, neither willing to discuss
too far ahead when so much lay at risk in the present, but they both knew what
sacrifices would come from being together. Thor relaxed his muscles, as Loki
smoothly worked at his abdomen with the swift and expert movements that even a
masseuse would envy, and Loki smiled absently as a familiar hardness grew just
beneath his buttocks. Thor murmured absently:
“I was thinking of investing in bunk beds.”
“What?” Loki asked. “Why?”
“Our friends will keep our secret,” said Thor. “I just worry if anyone else
finds out; if we have our own beds, we can add to our defence this is just
platonic, and then we can move abroad once you graduate. Do you still want to
study International Law?”
“Yes, but right now I have betterthings I wish to study.”
Loki smirked as he slid his hands lower. They both knew that Loki would not
graduate for another four years, while Thor was still two years off, and there
was something almost tragic at picturing a life far from all they knew . . .
running abroad just to be together. Loki ran his hand over the bulge in Thor’s
boxers, where he squeezed at the growing length. It was all too familiar
against his palm. He smirked to feel the pre-come stain the thick material.
“I’ll be gone for nearly three weeks, Thor.”
Thor moaned and thrust upwards. Loki laughed and pulled down his boxers until
an impressive erection flipped outward, and yet – as Loki knew – Thor was
always so self-conscious . . . ‘it’s so much smaller than yours’, ‘the guys in
the locker room must be twice my size’, ‘you have too long fingers and it just
makes it look smaller’. . . it was true it lacked in length, but the girth was
enough to stretch Loki to breaking point. Loki milked it up and down with slow
movements of his fingers, as if playing scales. He whispered:
“You want to make it count?”
Loki slid down the bed, where he poured oil over his fingers. A slap to Thor’s
thighs brought those legs up high, as Thor grasped his ankles and spread them
as wide as they could move, and – pulling down a pillow to place underneath
those buttocks – Loki licked his lips and pressed a finger to that waiting
hole. Thor always struggled as the receptive partner, but he prayed today he
would finally fit Loki inside to the hilt. Thor gasped out with a smirk:
“Let’s make it count.”
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
“I’m coming,” called Loki.
The doorbell continued to ring. It sounded out long and hard throughout the
house, as if the unwanted guest leaned hard on the buzzer and refused to
release any pressure, until the incessant ringing stung Loki’s ears and brought
a curse to his lips. He wrapped his gown around his still wet form, while
throwing back wet hair over the silk fabric. A burst of steam escaped the
bathroom as he opened the door. Loki wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He padded down the long hallway of the second-floor, as bare feet left wet
footprints on the thick carpet as he walked along with a towel in hands. The
doorbell continues to ring. A spark of panic coursed through him . . . a racing
heart, a lump in his throat, a cold chill over his skin. . . it was too easy to
envision the police at the front doors, as he attempted to dry his hair and
picked up speed. He wondered if someone finally found out their secret, or if
some accident had befallen Odin or Frigga on their business trip, and terror
coursed through him.
Loki cursed and tossed the towel to the floor. He half-ran down the stairs, as
he called out once more through the hall for the person to remain patient, and
– with hand slipping on the banister – he stumbled and was forced to run the
last few steps. A shot of adrenaline soared through him, as the loss of balance
sent a wave of terror through his veins, but he managed to catch himself at the
very bottom with a loud gasp of breath. The doorbell rang on.
“I said I’m coming!” Loki cried. “Will you wait?”
He ran over to the door. The blinds covered the windows on either side and
above, while the letterbox soon started to rattle as someone decided to
increase the noise, and – as Loki ran a hand over his face – he looked through
the peephole. Blackness. It appeared at is someone rested their forehead
against it, which only increased the beating of his heart and the cold sweat
that broke over his skin. He let out a shuddered breath and gnawed at his lip.
Loki reached out for the table beside the main door. The drawer slid out with
relative ease, as he popped the false bottom and pulled out a familiar dagger
‘just in case of emergency’, and – with a kick at the floor – he placed it
behind his back tucked in the sash of his gown. He drew in a deep breath, even
as his mind grew light-headed and his muscles grew weak, before he reached out
with a trembling hand to the lock. The ringing of the bell and smashing of the
letterbox continued, as he carefully clicked the door unlocked. A voice rang
out:
“Loki? Loki! It’s me, Thor. Let me in. Come on!”
“Thor? What are you thinking? It’s –”
“Father’s away on a meeting, right?” Thor started to rap at the letterbox in an
odd tune. “Come on, man, it’s freezing out here. We’ve got until Wednesday, so
let’s make the most of that time! I missed you this past week . . . you left me
all alone, Loki. I miss you!”
Loki rolled his eyes. The words were not slurred, which was something, but they
were mumbled and the tone shifted on every other word, and considering the time
– close to eleven at night when most prepared to sleep – it was obvious he was
drunk. Loki clenched his hands into tight fists, as he let out a long hiss of
breath. A part of him wanted to walk away. The last time he left Thor on the
doorstep there was a lot of noise, followed by a drunken serenade at his
window, and the neighbours threatened to call the police until he let Thor
inside.
“Okay, fine,” said Loki. “I’m letting you inside.”
The door barely opened a crack. Thor threw it fully open, before he grabbed
Loki by his upper arms and rammed him hard against the wall. The hilt of the
dagger dug painfully until Loki’s lower back, bringing forth a hiss of breath
and tears to his eyes, before Thor pressed his body flush against Loki and
sandwiched him between wall and body. A cold breeze blew from the front door.
Loki shivered from the cold, as it caught against water and sweat.
Thor pressed a bearded mouth to the column of Loki’s neck. The scratching of
his rough beard was painful, apparently days since he lasted softened the hair,
and it left burns on pale flesh, as Loki struggled to raise his hands between
them. He pressed hard against Thor’s chest. Thor refused to budge. A tongue
licked at his neck, before teeth came down to leave bite after bite until – at
one point – Loki cried out as blood was drawn. It trickled down his neck, as he
raised one leg high and let tears fall. Fear washed over him, as he ordered:
“Thor, this stops now!”
Loki parted his legs to become comfortable. Thor strove to get closer and
closer, as hands grasped at Loki’s buttocks, kneading them with clumsy
expertise that may have aroused him at any other time. He was cornered.
Ambushed. Loki struggled to breathe, as his breaths came fast and shallow. He
struck hard at solid muscles, while he writhed and struggled against Thor’s
wandering hands, but every movement appeared to be taken as ‘reciprocation’.
“Thor, I am telling you to stop! I don’t want this.”
“So beautiful,” murmured Thor. “Love you.”
Thor pulled apart the gown at Loki’s chest; mouth moved for soft nipple,
coaxing it erect until a horrific shiver of pleasure merged with the pain and
fear, and soon tears ran down Loki’s cheeks as he dug nails into Thor’s scalp.
Thor continued to suckle and bite. Loki pulled at blond locks of hair, but Thor
simply groaned and moved his hands to Loki’s sash and ripped apart the sash.
The gown fell wide open, exposing every inch of flesh including his recently
shaved groin. A callused hand pawed at his long length.
“Stop, Thor,” cried Loki. “I said stop!”
A loud slap rang out.
Thor let go at once. He stumbled back with reddened cheek. Those blue eyes
stared in wide horror at Loki, who – with desperate speed – sought to cover his
body once again, while a terrible silence passed between them. The only sounds
were Loki’s choked sobs, while the wind rustled the leaves without and heavy
traffic sounded various horns with screeching tires, and the world around them
carried on without any concern for the fear between them.
Loki reached with a trembling hand to the door. He pushed it gently, until it
clicked shut, and – bringing back his hand – double-checked to make sure he was
fully dressed, while he ran his hands over his face and wiped away tears. Thor
shook his head. He shook it over and over and over, as he stumbled back and
grasped at the wall for support, only to slide down onto the tiled floor with
mouth parted wide and inhuman cries escaping from his lips. Thor looked broken.
Thor looked desperate. Loki moved to step closer to him, but Thor threw up a
hand.
It shook with a terrific violence. The fingers closed as if of their own
accord, as Thor started to hyperventilate and his chest shook with heaved
wracks, and – as Loki slowly continued to move closer – he recognised the signs
of a panic attack. Thor strove to keep him at bay, so Loki raised his hands in
mock surrender only a foot away from him. He slowly knelt down just opposite
Thor. Thor locked eyes with him . . . dilated, wide, frightened. . .
“I – I could have raped you,” whispered Thor.
The tears finally came. Thor wept and screamed, as he buried his hands into his
hair and bent forward with legs pulled high, and – as Loki slid beside him,
bracing himself against the wall – he struggled with the conflicting urges to
hurt Thor and to comfort Thor. He doubted that Thor would have gone so far as
to rape him, especially when it only took a slap to snap him to his senses, but
lines were crossed and the alcohol . . . so heavy on his breath, soaked into
his clothes. . . clouded his senses and his judgement. Loki tasted tears on his
lips, as he said:
“I have a dagger tucked into the back of my gown.”
“You would have stabbed me again?”
“We were children last time,” said Loki. “You will not hold that against me
forever, will you? In any case, I believe you started it. You would carry
around those heavy weights of yours and then put them on top of my books or bed
or toilet, always knowing they were too heavy for me to lift and move. I simply
retaliated the only way I knew how."
Thor laughed at their brotherly bickering, until the realisation dawned. He
returned to a blubbering mess, as he crossed his legs and cried out a primal
scream into his hands, and – finally – threw back his head hard onto the wall
behind him. He threw it back again. Again. It grew to the point a red smear
appeared and Loki cursed . . . afraid . . . he shot out a hand to cushion the
following two blows, stopping Thor from making the cut even worse. Blond hair
matted with blood, while Thor swayed and sobbed and finally spat out:
“I – I have a problem, Loki.”
Loki swallowed back bile and saliva. He glanced across the hall to the
landline, half-tempted to call for Sif or maybe an ambulance, but he knew that
would only be a short-term solution to a long-term problem. A shaky smile
crossed his lips, as he half-stood and offered a hand to Thor to help him
stand. Thor lazily slapped his hand away. Loki attempted to take him by his
shoulder, but a shove knocked him back a step. Thor wanted to stay on the
floor.
It was difficult to watch the humiliation. Thor was a proud man with an eye for
fashion, always keenly aware about appearances and striving to be the golden
child, and the very nature of his degree led to him taking great care of his
body and fitness, but here he was . . . soaked in sweat and beer and sick,
while he wept like a baby and rejected the very person he desperately wanted by
his side. He looked weak. Pitiable. Loki walked to the lounge and took Frigga’s
blanket and cushion, before he returned back to the hall with a few sobs.
He knew he shouldn’t be the one to parent his uncle, two years his senior and
not long twenty in age, and yet here he was . . . guiding Thor to lie down . .
. draping a blanket over him, as he slid a cushion underneath his head. Thor
would spend the night on the floor. Loki sniffed and wiped away tears, as he
sat with legs folded beside Thor. He stroked at the matted blond hair and tried
to untangle locks matted with blood. Loki asked:
“You said you have a problem?”
“Drink,” muttered Thor.
“I know,” whispered Loki. “It’s the one thing I hate about you. Do you know how
much worse it’s gotten in these past two years? I’m terrified of my eighteenth
birthday, because I know how people will expect me to drink, and already I have
Sigyn teasing me how I’ll finally be legal to buy her a round. Every time I see
someone take a bottle or a glass –”
“You fear that they’ll end up just like me.”
“To be honest, yeah,” admitted Loki. “I shouldn’t have to be scared of alcohol!
I just know that it’s thanks to the booze that I’m physically scarred for life,
while my mother’s ashes gather dust in a locked box in the attic, and now . . .
now I’m looking at you wasting away! I know you had a lot to cope with . . .
being disowned, your last year of university coming up, Jane suffering with her
cancer, but to cope like this . . . to lose yourself . . .
“Do you remember when I made a mistake making some coffee? You sneered. You
accused me of doing it on purpose to upset Jane. You seemed to think it funny,
or you at least didn’t even remember having said it, and it hurt me to my core
. . . it was like you thought I’d really be that spiteful and petty, but that
wasn’t you! It’s never you, at least the real you.
“You said I looked like a ‘cow’ when I bought a new hat. You called my sparring
with Fandral just ‘tricks’. You started a fight with Býleistr when he called
you ‘princess’, and – honestly – the only reason you escaped charges of
grievous bodily harm is because I begged Mother to pay him off and used all my
charm as his nephew. Every time you sleep, I have to check you’re still
breathing . . . I’m scared each night may be your last. I’m scared.”
Loki buried his face into his hands. The tears were hot and fast, as they
blurred his vision and stung his eyes, and yet somehow Thor remained oblivious
to them, even when – in his sober moments – every one would be kissed away with
utmost care. There was movement outside the front door, where a neighbour
called out to ask if he were okay, and Thor laughed a broken sound as the
neighbour mentioned hearing a scream. Loki shouted back that it was merely a
drunken friend. They left promising to call Odin. Thor muttered out:
“Are you ashamed of me, Loki?”
Loki said nothing. Odin would likely take the first plane out come morning, by
which point he would need to whisk Thor out of the door and cease all contact
until some stolen moment, but – until then – he owed it to Thor to console him.
Loki reached down to place a kiss to a clammy forehead. Thor murmured in
contentment, while drool collected in the corner of his mouth, and Loki bit
hard into his lip until he tasted iron, as he admitted:
“I’m afraid of you.”
The confession drew Thor’s full attention. Those blue eyes shot wide open, ever
bloodshot and dilated, as he stared in horror toward Loki and choked back empty
laughter, which sounded as cold as it was humourless. Thor rolled onto his
back; a callused hand ran over his face, while he pulled the blanket up to this
chin with a childlike grip. Loki drew in a sharp breath. He feared the blood
from the head wound would stain the cushion, but to say that aloud would only
risk indignation or tears in his current state. Loki remained silent.
“I want to get help,” said Thor.
“Do you really mean that? Will you get help?”
“Yeah.” Thor nodded. “I can’t lose you, Loki. I sacrificed everything just to
be with you, so if I lost you now . . . it’d make everything pointless. It’d be
like I ruined our lives over nothing. I can’t do that you. I won’t do that to
you. I just hate admitting it, because I’m the one who’s meant to be strong and
protect you and help you, but instead -? I’m sorry, Loki.”
“You don’t need to apologise about showing weakness, Thor. If this relationship
is to work long-term, we need to work together as equals, which means sharing
all obstacles and bearing all burdens together. I will support you through
this. You’re not alone.”
“I feel alone, Loki. I think it’s why I drink . . . I can drink as part of a
group; I can laugh and joke with Fandral, or compete and bicker with Steve, and
even when I’m alone it numbs the pain and provides a distraction. I know that
getting help needs to be not just about you, but about me . . . about me
actually wanting help . . . I wouldn’t have the constant hangovers, or worry
about failing a breath-test, or – or – or hurting you, but then saying it aloud
. . .”
“You have nothing to be ashamed about. It’s okay to say it.”
Thor stilled. He stared up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes, as his lips
pursed into a thin line, and – with a shaking hand – Loki pulled back and cast
a half-narrowed gaze to the floor, where he counted the tiles and strove not to
let the sinking disappointment bring further acid to the back of his mouth.
Loki cursed as his stomach churned. He expected nothing more from Thor, but
then there followed a long sigh and he saw a tear run down the corner of Thor’s
eye into his hairline. Thor quirked a shaky smile through trembling lips, and
said:
“Loki, I think I’m an alcoholic.”
Loki reached out to stroke at Thor’s cheek. He wiped away the tear with a smile
in turn, as he leaned down place a chaste kiss to his forehead, and – with a
staggered sigh – carefully stood and walked to the table in the hall. He pulled
open the drawer and took out a pamphlet, along with a small card, and walked
over to Thor and sat beside him once again. Thor took them without being
prompted, although his eyes struggled to focus and it took several minutes
before he could finally read the fonts. Thor furrowed his brow and asked:
“How long have you had this?”
“Around six months,” admitted Loki. “The card is to an alcoholic recovery
group. It provides you support from people who understand what you’re going
through, but they also give you a ‘sponsor’ to coach you through any moments of
temptation, and they seem to give out coins as a visual reminder of your
sobriety. You like socialising, while you also like to be strong for others, so
I thought a group-environment might motivate you more.
“The pamphlet I got from my therapist. They said you can self-refer to their
counselling service, which is free on the National Health Service, and they’ll
provide you with a one-on-one counsellor once a week to help you through your
issues. I think it’s about taking this one day at a time and accepting slip-ups
happen; it’s an ongoing process, not an overnight fix.”
“I’ll call them both in the morning.” Thor sniffed and teased with a smile:
“You know, when I’m sober and all that. Loki, I – I’m sorry that it’s got this
far . . . I know what I have done to wrong you, and I know what has led me to
this, and I am sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Thor. Get better. Make it right.”
Thor closed his eyes and another tear fell. Loki stroked through his hair,
where he sat and watched as he slowly entered a peaceful sleep, and Loki hummed
to him an old song that Frigga once sang to them as children. The tiled floor
would lead to a chronic ache come morning, but Loki smiled to see the pain and
fear leave that once wrinkled brow. Loki allowed a tear to fall, as he sniffed
once more with a trembling lip. It was cold in the hall, enough that Loki
feared the cold would penetrate the blankets, and yet he continued to smile.
“Make it right,” whispered Loki.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
Odin knocked at the door.
Silence followed. He drew in a deep breath and waited, until a murmured curse
echoed from inside the bedroom, and – with a few bangs and a rustle of fabric –
someone finally stumbled over to the door and rattled at the doorknob. The
hallway was warm and clean, enough that Odin let his eye wander over the walls
that marked dozens of framed photographs, and there he saw familiar figures . .
. Jane, Loki, Sif, Darcy, Fandral . . . no pictures of himself.
The door opened wide to reveal Thor.
The past three years had aged him considerably, while his muscle mass now
seemed extreme, and – as he stood in an old pair of sweatpants and nothing else
– Odin smiled to remember the days when he too bore such strength and size.
Thor had grown his hair, so that it now hung low beneath his collarbones. Odin
noticed the ‘lovelock’. It was a long plait of hair over his left shoulder, but
one interwoven with what looked to be black strands.
Thor said nothing. He looked Odin over with narrowed blue eyes, while his thick
lips pursed into a thin line, and Odin – with a hiss of breath – noticed the
many love-bites that trailed over the column of his neck and around his hips.
Odin chanced a glance over Thor’s shoulder, as his heart raced and hands
clenched. There was no one else. The top bunk of the bunk-beds looked perfectly
made, while the small room left no room for anyone to possibly hide, and yet a
part of him was ever tempted to ring Loki’s phone, just to be sure. Thor
muttered:
“How’d you get in here?”
Odin lowered his gaze. A sharp ache overcame his joints, while the warmth of
the hallway only added to the uncomfortable sweat on his skin, and – as heavy
layers clung to his body – he felt the exhaustion of old age creeping over him.
The wrinkles on his hands and loose skin marked a disparity in age between
himself and Thor, while he knew any thrown punches now would result in more
damage to Odin’s part, especially now that Thor had no reason to simply take
whatever was thrown at him. Odin said with a heavy sigh:
“Jane allowed me entry upstairs.”
“Huh,” said Thor. “I guess you better come in, then.”
The door was held open for Odin. He walked inside the immaculately kept room,
where the only thing out-of-place was a pile of freshly dried clothes on the
desk beneath the window, and Odin noted well the sheer amount of trophies and
certificates. Odin smiled to see that Thor appeared to excel in rugby and
wrestling, while a gown hung on the back of his door ready for his graduation
ceremony. It was easy to forget he graduated in a few weeks.
There were dozens of cards scattered over various bookcases, all numbered with
‘twenty-one’ and varying in size and expense, and a small pile of presents lay
stacked on the top of a cheap wardrobe made from pine. They were still wrapped
and perfectly piled. Odin walked about the room, while Thor took position
against his desk and scratched at his head with an exhausted yawn, and Odin’s
chest contracted in pain as he saw three years worth of memories and
experiences and accomplishments, all visual reminders of his absence in Thor’s
life.
“Jane appears to be recovering well,” said Odin.
“Is that why you came here?” Thor scoffed with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, she’s
doing pretty great. I’m lucky to have her as a friend, even if I’d rather
Donald hadn’t moved in, but splitting the rent three ways helps a lot more, so
I can’t complain. Jane’s finally been well enough to start her masters’ degree.
Donald’s working to be a doctor.”
“I imagine a sick fiancé would inspire many a man to what he could to prevent
such a relapse from ever occurring again,” observed Odin. “If I lost your
mother, or even feared her loss, I believe I would lose a part of myself and I
would never be the same again.”
“Donald bore it pretty well, all things considered.”
“That is good to hear.”
Odin explored the room further. He stopped short of the desk, where – just
beside Thor – a small purple coin that appeared to be inscribed with a prayer:
‘God grant me the strength to accept things I cannot change, courage to change
things I can, and wisdom to know the difference’. Odin reached out to take the
coin, but Thor quickly caught his gesture with a double-take and a wide-eyed
horror. Thor snatched at the coin. He held it so tight in a closed fist that
his knuckles turned white, while he pressed his hand to his bare chest. Odin
asked:
“You are an alcoholic?”
Thor winced and licked at his lips, while he ran a free hand through blond
locks. The sunlight shone out behind him, giving him a soft glow as the sunrise
warmed his flesh, and Odin – glancing over his shoulder – tried not to curl his
lip at the ‘view’. There was a long thin garden at the back of the house, where
barbeque sat in good condition and a trampoline sat a little further along, but
it was difficult to envision social times spent with dozens of houses
overlooking one’s illusion of privacy. Thor shuffled from foot to foot with
hand clenched.
“Nine months sober,” muttered Thor.
“That is good, Thor.”
“No, it could’ve been better.” Thor shrugged. “I only made it a week at first.
Steve invited me for a few drinks, but I wasn’t aware Tony was there and I let
him goad me into having one more and then one more and another . . . I ended up
throwing up in some stranger’s bathroom, ringing a friend to beg for
forgiveness while I wept like a fool. I think I told him I’d kill myself if he
just asked me, because I wasn’t good enough to live. I barely even remember it.
“I was severely depressed after that. I couldn’t even make it a fucking week!”
Thor shook his fist up and down as a tear ran down his cheek. “That friend
forced me into counselling, to run adjacent to my support groups, and my
sponsor talked me off my ledge. I made it to my sixty-day chip and stupidly had
a glass of champagne at Jane’s engagement party. It was just one.”
“You have not drunk any alcohol since?”
“No,” admitted Thor. “My friend said one drink wasn’t the end of the world, but
I’m going to do this right and there’s no such thing as ‘one drink’ with an
addiction. If I start thinking like that, then what’s to stop me from saying
‘one more won’t hurt’? I told my group. They coached me through it, and I
started from scratch. Still, I was proud . . . I was proud I did stop at just
that one glass. There was a time that would have been impossible.”
Thor opened his hand before him. The coin stood as a visual reminder of his
progress, as well as a symbol of all his stood to lose, and – as Odin wondered
about this ‘friend’ – he caught how Thor’s watery eyes moved to a photograph of
Loki on his desk. Odin bit into his lip and drew in a deep breath, as his chest
expanded and head lifted high. A glance about the room revealed a green shirt
hanging from a coat-hook on a door, as well as a law book propped underneath
the leg of the wardrobe. Odin let out a long exhale and said:
“You made a recovery even without my help.”
Thor laughed and walked over to the lower bunk, where he half-collapsed and sat
with parted legs, and – as he clasped his hands between them – he looked down
at the carpet with a harsh gaze and curled lip. The coin sat beside him on the
mattress. Odin noticed wrinkled sheets and scrunched up duvet, while blankets
appeared kicked off onto the floor, and a black pair of briefs lay half-tucked
away, which were unlike Thor’s preference for boxers. Thor muttered:
“I couldn’t let Loki grieve another family member.”
“I did all that I could by Hela,” swore Odin. “It is somehow ironic that the
child I ignored is the one that succeeded in recovering from their addiction. I
know that I did not do right by either of you, Thor, but I am proud of the man
you have become. You did well.”
“I guess that’s what happens when you have unconditional support.” Thor smirked
and shrugged with a hiss of laughter. “Do you know what they told me when I was
given my first chip? They said it wasn’t about my promise to them, but their
promise to me to support me no matter what. I nearly cried. They would actually
support me even despite my mistakes.”
“I always supported you, Thor. I – ”
“You disowned me!”  
Thor winced and ran his hands over his face. Odin said nothing, but watched as
Thor cursed and dropped backward on the bunk, and – as Thor looked ever upward
– Odin slid his phone from his pocket and pressed at the buttons with
impressive speed. He rang Loki. There was no buzz or ringtone from anywhere in
the house, but he noticed that the call went straight to voicemail, while Thor
chuckled from the bed. Loki would be back in time for curfew, wherever he hid
himself throughout the day. Odin frowned, as Thor muttered:
“You disowned me, Father.”
“I did what I must to protect Loki,” said Odin.
“Yeah, well, I think that’s what tipped me over the edge.” Thor ran a hand over
his face. “I was drinking a lot once I turned eighteen, but no more than any
other fresher at university or any other student who liked to be social. I had
a problem, but I think I could have managed, and then you . . . you threw me
out. In a day I lost my family. I lost my home.”
“You blame me for your alcoholism? Is that what your group teaches you?”
“No, I’ve only myself to blame for the choices I made. I’ve spent months and
months trying to make it up to everyone I’ve wronged, especially Loki, but I
know it’ll be years before I finally learn to forgive myself and feel strong
enough to be around drink without taking a drink, but you . . . you had me on a
cliff-edge and just pushed me. I drank because I had nothing else to lose. I
was alone. I wanted to feel less alone. I drank . . .
“I know what happened to Hela was bad, but you created this environment of
total fear! You know Loki’s so terrified of being an alcoholic that he can’t
even walk into a bar? He won’t take a sip. He gets physically sick around the
smell of alcohol. That’s no way to live, because what’s wrong with a drink in
moderation? Why deny him a normal part of life?
“I – I think a part of me rebelled, you know? I’ve wanted to have this out with
you for so long, but I never worked up the courage and it’s something a long-
time said. I was wrong to try and ‘reclaim’ alcohol and pretend like I had
power over it, but you were wrong to try and make it seem like some evil and
destructive thing in its own right. Loki might’ve been less uptight, and maybe
I’d have not been so dependent, if we’d just been given a healthy context.”
The words rung both hollow and true. Odin winced and glanced to the numerous
photographs, where not a single one of Hela existed, and he knew what an
environment of parties and debauchery and hedonism led toward . . . it never
occurred to him that abstinence and restraint and denial would lead to the same
place. Odin reached out to touch the frame of one photograph in particular.
Loki. He stood dressed only in a shirt too large for his frame, leaned against
a windowsill with a mug in his hand. A candid shot taken in the morning.
Odin furrowed his brow, as he noted a lock of hair cut short. He remembered the
day he questioned Loki about the strange cut . . . ‘I got gum caught in my
hair, nothing more’ . . . a part of him knew that their days as a family were
limited. The secret was now an open secret, with less and less care put into
lies and deceit. Thor stood from the bed and marched across the room, where he
slammed down the photo-frame and spat out:
“Why are you here, anyway?”
Thor spun around with arms crossed over his chest. Odin raised an eyebrow and
reached back out for the photograph, where he stood it back upright and tapped
the glass by the cut lock of hair, and – with a jab of his finger – pointed
towards the lovelock. He smirked to see the blush on Thor’s cheeks, as well as
the tensing of those large muscles, and Thor at once moved about in search of
more clothes. Thor snatched at a red dressing gown, as he quickly wrapped it
around his body and refused to make eye-contact. Odin asked in a low voice:
“Are you still in contact with Loki?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?” Odin scoffed. “Is that a ‘yes’?”
“You never were one for social media,” admitted Thor. “We kept in touch
secretly online, but – I swear – we never met in person or exchanged physical
correspondence. We’re just good friends, and Loki supports me through all my
problems, while I’ve been trying to support him, too, but it’s difficult on
both of us. We’re stubborn. We must get it from you.”
“Well, I have reason to believe that Loki is in contact with Laufey and
Fárbauti. I am afraid that I am losing Loki to such hideous and immoral people,
especially as they were the cause of our family’s downfall. I worry they will
play to his issues. You must be aware that he has never felt he quite belonged,
while conflicted between believing himself a monster due to his parentage and
desperately clinging to Frigga in hopes of bettering himself. This will –”
“He hasn’t said anything,” said Thor.
“Thor, if he has said one word then you must tell me.” Odin let out a long hiss
of breath. “Laufey stole forth my wife and bore from her two children, and –
when he was bored with that – he seduced my daughter and bore another child
with her, abandoning both without a single care as to whether they lived or
died. He was not even at her funeral. Loki is in a fragile position and must be
protected. If he succumbs to Laufey’s manipulations -?”
“What? He might sleep with Laufey, too?” Thor rolled his eyes. “Look, if you
worry about Loki being suckered into the criminal underworld -? Don’t. I love
Loki more than I think you realise, but he’s a Machiavellian little shit and
all he wants in this world is your approval. I think we both know that he loves
me, but he’s afraid you’ll disown him if he says that.”
“He does not love you, Thor. At least, he only loves you as an uncle.”
“Are you so certain? Is that why you’d come to me?”
Thor laughed and moved to the window. He threw it wide open, where the open
window from the kitchen below allowed for rich scents to pierce the air, and –
with the familiar crackle of frying oil – Odin caught the scent of bacon and
pancakes. Odin almost smiled at the scent of an American breakfast, a treat not
experienced since their family holiday with Loki some years previous, and yet
here . . . in the house of a makeshift family from all nations . . . it seemed
they all came together to share in communal meals.
“If Loki just sees me as an uncle, you would have gone to Sigyn,” said Thor in
a cold voice. “You would have gone to Helblindi. You would have even have gone
to Mother! You are here because you know he feels deeper for me and he’d have
confided in me. Well, I’m telling you now that he’s told me nothing, but that
you underestimate his motivations.”
“What do I underestimate, Thor?”
“He’s scared you’ll disown him, like I say, but you’ve spent his whole life
telling him that Laufey and Fárbauti are just cruel and evil crime-lords who
have no place in his life. You never let us go back to Iceland. You hid Hela’s
ashes in the attic! Loki feels this whole other side of himself is something
shameful and abhorrent, to be locked away and feared, while you’re like this –
this – this god that saved him and adores him. How do you think he’ll act?”
Odin listened as Jane called up that breakfast was ready. Another person
knocked on the door, before footsteps ran down the stairs, and – from someplace
else – he was sure he heard familiar laughter. Thor’s question lingered between
them. Loki was always good at hiding, sometimes even hiding secrets in plain
sight, and even when knowing his sins . . . often evidence was impossible to
find. Thor was right that Loki would seek to prove himself, which would mean
destroying any perceived enemies of Odin and ties to his own past.
“He will seek to sabotage Laufey,” whispered Odin.
“I’ll be surprised if Laufey isn’t in hiding or in jail, by the time I
graduate,” admitted Thor. “I love Loki, but I also know Loki better than anyone
else. I’ll have words with him, Father, but the damage is likely already done
and he will expect you to be proud of him.”
“Proud of underhanded means and unethical practises?”
“Why not? It’s what you taught him.”
Odin winced. He drew in a deep breath and walked toward the door. The cheap
plastic handle stuck to his palm with his sweat, while he could not quite find
the courage to open the door, and behind him Thor stood with hands pressed
against his desk, while he breathed long and deep from the fresh air through
the open window. Odin let his eyes linger. It could be years before they would
meet again, which only made the click of the handle ever louder and ever more
painful to his ears, and – as he pulled open the door – Thor called out:
“Were you ever sorry?”
The breeze picked up strength. Thor kept his back to Odin, even as Odin pulled
the door open wide and looked into the room opposite, where – in a rush to get
food – the door was left open allowing for a gaze into another’s life. He saw a
room that may have come straight from the pages of a catalogue in style, but in
such disarray that the wardrobe appeared to merely be a suggestion for storage
and the wastepaper basket a simple idea for storing waste. He asked:
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry for disowning me,” asked Thor.
“I love you dearly, my son,” said Odin. “In another life, I may even have
considered you my favourite child. I simply cannot lose another child and Loki
is my only connection to Hela, and to have you in Loki’s life is to risk his
corruption and incarceration. He is not in love with you as you are with him.
You cannot ruin his life with an incestuous union.”
“So that’s it? You don’t regret disowning me? I’m your flesh and blood! I was
the one who ran to you when I scraped my knee. I was the one who stayed up at
night desperate for bedtime stories of frost giants and old wars. I was the one
who worshipped you and –”
“Thor, you will always be my son, but Loki is also my grandson.”
“And Hela’s blood trumps my existence, is that it?”
The house fell silent around them. It was clear Thor’s voice boomed out, so
that even the frying from the kitchen ceased and the laughter stopped, and Odin
– as he stepped out into the hallway – turned around to see Thor finally
looking back at him. The blue eyes were difficult to look upon, as they were
already half-filled with unshed tears and bore dark bags from an evidently
sleepless night, and yet Odin knew that he could say nothing that would provide
a comfort to his only son. Odin swallowed hard, as his heart raced.
“I am sorry, Thor. Truly, I am sorry.”
Odin finally closed the door.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
“I don’t have time, Grandfather.”
Loki stood with arms wide. The sun shone strong through the greenhouse,
magnified by the recently cleaned glass, and it caught on various pots and
ceramics, occasionally leaving painful afterimages etched on his retinas.
Frigga said nothing, as she knelt on a soft pad before a tray of flowers that
he struggled to recognise. The light blue dress looked beautiful on her slender
frame. He cast occasional glances in her direction.
It was clear she sought to avoid looking in their direction, as if somehow she
might make matters worse, and yet her pale skin made it clear that she was
emotionally invested in their disagreement, even as long fingers prodded at the
soft soil. Odin paced behind the table of orchids, with one hand wrapped around
his mouth, as he kept his eye fixated on the stone slabs underfoot. The rich
scent of pollen lingered in the air, occasionally drawing sniffs from both Odin
and Loki, while the sounds of the world continued on around them.
The birds were loud outside in the garden, while cars could be heard in the
streets beyond, and – with a loud beep from the inside security system – Loki
noted that someone was driving through the front gates, likely Fandral who was
unfortunately an hour too early, and Loki wondered whether he would wait or
knock upon the door. Odin ignored the beep. He ignored everything else, as he
spun around and faced Loki directly with a scowl.
“Fandral is here,” observed Loki.
Odin glanced towards the gardens. It was impossible to see the front of the
house, but – from where the greenhouse was positioned – there was a clear view
of the garages and parking area, and Fandral’s old car could be seen pulling at
an obstructive angle. Loki knew why he parked there instead of outside the
front door. He would want the best view of the house, along with Loki if
possible, and Hogun likely sat in the passenger seat in case of trouble. Odin
continued to pace, even as Loki’s heart raced ever faster and faster. Odin spat
out:
“Let him wait.”
“I have some of Thor’s things packed up,” lied Loki. “I thought I told you? You
asked why I had so many boxes in my room. Thor left some of his possessions in
the attic, and he asked me to send them to him through Fandral. It seems a bit
rude to make him wait.”
“Let him wait,” cried Odin. “This is of more importance!”
“I did nothing wrong, Grandfather.”
Two fists slammed down on the table. The pots rattled and shook, until fell
from the edge and crashed onto the tiles below with a loud smash, and – as
Frigga jumped with a gasp – Odin pressed his hands flat on the tabletop and
glared across to Loki. He narrowed his eyes and flushed a dark shade of red,
while he breathed fast and deep breaths. Loki stepped back. He cast another
look to Frigga, who stood and rapidly pulled off her gloves.
A few seconds later, Frigga was at his side. Two hands wrapped around his
shoulders, as she pulled him close against her, and – catching the scent of her
perfume – he was almost comforted by the presence of another. Loki bit into his
lip. A nervous sweat overcame him, forcing his leather clothes to cling to him
in an awkward manner, while he hunched his shoulders and sought to make himself
smaller than he otherwise seemed. Frigga bought into act of vulnerability,
cooing and humming at him as if he were a child.
“You are nineteen, Loki,” said Odin
Loki winced. He knew that Thor had plastered photographs of his graduation all
over social media, just as he knew that he could be seen in many of them
clinging to Thor’s side, and he gnawed at his lip with a roll of his stomach.
Bile rose to the back of his throat, as his eyes flickered over to the smart-
phone on the tabletop. Odin’s sudden acceptance of modern technology did not
bode well. Loki pulled away from Frigga, where he stepped towards the table
opposite Odin and placed two shaking hands down on the wood. Loki said:
“I am well aware of my age.”
“I never questioned you when you left this house.” Odin let out a long hiss of
breath. “I never questioned when you stayed overnight at Sigyn’s to study, or
when you would spend entire afternoons at the library, and I never once
insisted on a chaperone when you would stay here alone during my business
ventures. I trusted you, Loki. You are my grandson.”
“What is it that you think I’ve done?” Loki asked. “I know you’re annoyed that
I stayed in touch with Thor, but – it’s as he’s told you – we’ve never met in
person. Is it a crime to want to stay in touch with the only uncle I have on my
mother’s side?”
“No, that is no crime. Incest, however, is a crime. I saw the lock of black
hair woven into Thor’s plait . . . the black briefs in his bed, the marks on
his neck, and the photographs of you taken in recent years . . . I assumed this
obsession on his part, perhaps that he has even found a body to replace yours,
and I can only hope he has not involved you in his delusions. We can get you
further therapy, Loki, perhaps move out-of-country for your education, but this
. . .”
Odin returned to pacing back and forth. Loki fell faint at the suggestion of
emigration. He braced himself on both forearms, as he kept his head low and
stared hard at the tabletop, and – as he breathed fast and shallow, eyes
unfocussed and pupils unfixed – he struggled to hold back the shakes that
wracked his frame. Frigga came beside him, but he jerked away and raised a hand
to keep her at bay. The greenhouse began to spin around him, as he raised his
fingers to his temple and looked to Odin, and yet Odin could only ask in a
quiet voice:
“Why is it that Laufey now rots in prison?”
A vast wave of relief crashed over Loki. The accusations of incest lay half-
forgotten, while Loki looked to Odin and saw those wrinkles about his eyes
darken and deepen, and yet the flush to those red cheeks remained as thin lips
pressed into a white line. Loki stood straight and crossed his arms over his
chest, as he raised his chin high and smirked with a twinkle to his eyes that
stemmed from a deep sense of pride. Loki shrugged his shoulders and observed:
“I thought you’d be proud.”
“Proud? Proud?” Odin laughed. “Tell me, Loki. How did you manage such a task? I
am told that the police were alerted as to everything . . . off-shore accounts,
shell companies, discrepancies in various forms . . . over a decade’s worth of
police investigation that led nowhere, all miraculously solved by an anonymous
tipster. Is it not funny how Helblindi and Býleistr are completely untouched by
this scandal? I hear they remain rich.”
“They did nothing wrong by me,” muttered Loki. “Helblindi always strove to be
like a brother, and you never denied him visitation to me, while Býleistr
strove to be like an uncle, always teaching me and guiding me and lecturing me
. . . I got my revenge on the one who harmed us, but why should I hurt those
innocent to his machinations?”
“‘Us’? No, Loki. Laufey was a bad man and a crime lord, but he never even knew
of your existence. Fárbauti knew. Helblindi and Býleistr were told, but until
Thor foolishly posted that public photograph of you . . . Laufey was under the
impression Hela lost you.”
“He did not abandon me?”
“We could not adopt you officially, Loki. It would have meant alerting Laufey
to your existence, risking a long and painful battle for custody, and that was
something that we could not endure, while Fárbauti also wished against such an
outcome. If this was revenge for your perceived abandonment, I have failed you
as I have failed your mother.”
Odin hunched his shoulders. He ran his hands over his face. There was a tremble
to his hands, while his eye glistened with an unshed tear, and Frigga – with a
shuddered sigh – reached out to Loki with a soft hand. He pushed her hand away.
Loki took a step towards Odin, even as Frigga stood behind him with her hands
raised high as if half-tempted to reach out to him and half-afraid of potential
rejection. A loud beat sounded in Loki’s ears, until he realised it was his
heart racing every faster and faster. He swallowed hard, as Odin whispered:
“I should have been honest from the start.”
Loki let out a choked laugh. The sound was bitter and loud, as he bent over and
clutched at his stomach, and soon laughter gave way to choked cries and loud
retches, as acid burned the back of his throat and he coughed and spluttered
for air. Frigga ran to his side, as she patted his back and instructed him to
breathe deep. Odin ran in turn. They guided Loki to a chair not far from where
Frigga earlier worked, while he wept with wracked breaths.  
Every intake of breath hurt his chest, while his vision blurred from tears. The
sweat from his forehead fell into his eyes, stinging them and only adding to
the tears that fell, while Frigga splashed water onto his face and Odin clasped
the back of his neck. He saw the fear in their expressions. They worried for
him. They worried for him even as they kept him away from his biological
father, denying him a part of his heritage and a part of his identity, and Loki
laughed all over again as he wiped at his mouth and gulped down air. Loki
asked:
“He – He wanted me?”
“You were an innocent child,” whispered Odin. “He would have corrupted you. Do
you not see what damage he caused your mother . . . your grandmother? Laufey
destroys all that he touches, nothing more than a monster who thrives from the
pain of others, and you are like a son to me . . . my blood, Loki. I wanted
only to protect you from the truth.”
“From the truth? I could have been raised with my brothers.” Loki wiped at his
tears. “I could have been raised in my homeland. I could have been in a home
where it wasn’t shameful to say the name ‘Hela’ and maybe – maybe . . . maybe
Thor would have . . .”
“Loki, you must –”
“You always favoured me. Is this why? You were overcompensating . . . afraid I
would uncover the truth, afraid I would choose Laufey over you . . . do you
know the guilt I felt, always knowing that whatever Thor did would always be
second to me? You taught me to hate myself! I was the cause of his pain. I was
the one who made him second-best.”
Loki pulled out his phone from his pocket. He clicked through to his gallery,
ignoring how they bickered and begged in his peripheral vision, and – as he
scrolled through various images – he saw Helblindi and Býleistr, both so much
older than him and both never sharing the same screen with Laufey. Thor took up
an entire folder to himself, but not one photo in recent years was taken with
Odin or by Odin. Two families divided . . . two sets of people to make proud,
while Odin and Frigga stayed on the sidelines . . . lying . . . hiding . . .
“Are you proud of me now, Grandfather?”
He stood to his feet and clutched his phone to his chest. Fandral called from
the car, but Loki chose ‘decline’ with a swift movement of his thumb, while he
waved a trembling hand towards Fandral and stumbled away from his supposed
‘family’. Odin reached out to him, but he slapped his hands away and buried his
fingers into his hair. The air was too cold. It chilled him to his bones, while
he swayed on his feet and licked awkwardly at his lips.
“I did this for you,” said Loki. “I did it all for you!”
“No, Loki,” whispered Odin. “No.”
The realisation dawned. Odin looked to him with a tear down his cheek, but his
eyes were that of a stranger filled with judgement and confusion . . . pity,
disgust, fear. . . it was the first time he truly saw Loki, but what he saw
looking back was Laufey. Loki shook his head over and over, as he half-laughed
and half-choked. He stumbled back. The glass walls closed around him. A
sensation like insects crawling . . . hot skin, cold skin . . . dizziness . . .
Loki struggled to process words, thoughts, emotions . . . there was no escape .
. .
Loki ran.
He fled through the garden and through the kitchen door. The house blurred
around him, as he made his way straight for his bedroom and text for Fandral to
pull up outside, and – as Fandral texted back he would send Hogun inside for
the boxes – he snatched an old gym-bag from the back of his closet. Loki
grabbed handfuls of socks and underwear from a drawer, shirts and trousers
still on their hangers, ramming them into his bag with little care.
Loki failed to hear as Frigga and Odin entered, even as he shoved and punched
at his clothes to make room for more, and – with head low and a grunt of
acknowledgement – Hogun walked past everyone to pick up one of the heaviest of
boxes. Loki sniffed and wiped away his tears with the back of his sleeve, as he
waited for Hogun to leave before he grabbed a rucksack from under his bed and
sought to fill it further with more clothes. Frigga let out a small cry, as she
came towards him and watched him as he frantically packed.
“Loki?” Frigga asked. “Loki, please stop.”
Loki ignored her. He continued to pack until Odin snatched at his hands,
gripping his wrists hard enough to leave faint red marks, and – as Loki gulped
for breath – he watched as Fandral entered to take another box and realisation
dawned on Frigga. He watched as Frigga chased after Fandral, pleading with him
to leave Loki’s possessions, before – with a high-pitched mewl of panic –
wandered back into the room to stand by his side. Odin stood with a wide and
bloodshot eye, as he shook at Loki’s wrists and asked in a quiet voice:
“Where will you go, Loki?”
“I’ve wanted to leave for the past year,” confessed Loki. “Thor told me ‘no’.
He said that it would be better for him to hit a year sober first, as well as
to graduate so he can provide better, and with only a few months to go -? I was
willing to wait. I saved money by staying at home . . . I saved all that you
gave me, I worked as an assistant to my professor for extra cash . . . I have
just enough for a place on my own, if I choose.”
“Loki, you must stop and think about this,” begged Frigga. “You are stressed.
You are hurt. Will you still wish to move out once your pain lessens and your
mind calms? You have everything you could want here. Let us talk about this and
maybe come to a solution, as it will not be easy to live alone while studying
full-time and working part-time.”
“I may be a few months early, but I’m sure Thor will take me in.”
“You think Thor will have you?” Odin asked.
Loki wrenched his hands away, before he pointed to the boxes. Fandral and Hogun
worked with quick and almost professional speed, with only a few covert glances
and lingering seconds by the doorway, but they both knew all there was to know.
Law books were stacked in one open box, while another featured various art
supplies, and another bore a selection of leather coats and leather trousers.
Loki laughed and jabbed a finger in their direction.
“These are my boxes, Grandfather.”
Frigga remained silent. It took her only a few seconds to wander over to the
bed, where she dropped down onto it with a slight creak of springs, and – with
a sniff – she reached out to a stuffed toy that was given to him in childhood.
A smile broke over her lips, bringing crinkles to the corner of her eyes. He
watched as she brought it to her face and breathed deep a scent that was a
mixture of his childhood and adulthood, while the plush fur remained as the
last anchor to treasured memories and the hope he might remain. Frigga
whispered:
“You were always going to move out.”
“Yeah,” confessed Loki. “I thought I’d get most of the bulkier items out in
advance, maybe sneak out smaller and more personal items bag by bag, and then
I’d make it official once Thor got his one-year chip. The bunk beds were for my
benefit. I took down my own father for Grandfather, but all he could do was to
lie to me and keep me apart from Thor!”
“I never asked you to take revenge on my behalf,” spat Odin. “Your motives and
methods were too much like Laufey, too underhanded and unethical, and I taught
you better than that, Loki. No, you will stay here. Thor has no room for you in
such a small house.”
“We only need to endure it until my graduation. It’s just two years.”
“And he would accept this level of responsibility?”
“Why not? He loves me.”
Odin rolled his eyes and shook his head. Hogun came back for another box, but
Odin let out such a loud roar that he visibly bristled and froze from within
the doorway, and Loki – heart racing, cold sweat over his flesh – raised a
trembling hand and nodded his head. It appeared to have no immediate affect, as
Hogun narrowed his gaze on Odin and looked him over, but soon he took the hint
and took a few slow steps away. The sound stopped sooner than it ought, while
the main staircase revealed no creaks of familiar steps. Odin muttered out:
“You would take advantage of that? You do not love Thor.”
“No? Then why am I fucking him?”
The words echoed out about the room. A loud crashed echoed further down the
hall, where Fandral clearly cursed, and Frigga gasped from the bed and clutched
the plush toy ever closer to her breast, as tears streamed down her cheeks.
There was no taking back the confession, not at this point, and Loki drew in a
deep breath as his heart raced. He forced a smirk. Even as the room swam around
him, he licked at his lips and stepped closer to Odin. Loki spat:
“I’ve been fucking him for the past three years.”
Odin snarled and stormed forward. Loki stood his ground. He kept his head held
high, even as Odin raised a hand and clenched a fist, and – as that back-handed
fist came crashing down – he retained his smirk without so much as a flinch.
The blow fell midair and the hand dropped lifelessly to Odin’s side, as Odin
fell back against Loki’s dresser and let tears run from his eye. Tears all
around. Loki bit into his lip until he tasted blood, and – while the iron
filled his mouth – he wondered how Odin could have ever struck Thor. He
whispered:
“You never could raise your hand to me.”
“Loki, do not lie about this.”
“I am not lying,” spat Loki. “Our first time was the night before he left for
university. Our second time was the night you caught us in bed together . . .
did you not think it suspicious that I set my room up with candles and incense
and expensive sheets? Really?”
“Stop this, Loki,” snarled Odin. “Enough.”
“The first time I took Thor fully was my seventeenth birthday. He always
struggled until then, as he never did grasp the concept of ‘relaxing’, but we
tried a few new techniques, and – well – he receives a fair amount from me
these days. Of course, we don’t always rely on penetration. I blew him in
Fandral’s car. I jerked him under the blankets on movie nights. Did you know
one time I frotted against him in your bed? By the way, awful sheets.”
Odin slapped him.
It was an open-handed slap, but it snapped his head to the side. The smirk
finally left Loki, as he curled his lip and spat at the carpet with bloodied
salvia, and – turning back with a dark glare at Odin – he saw Frigga rise and
weep. Frigga reached for him, but he shrugged her away and continued to pack
his rucksack with as many clothes as he could stash into the thick material,
even as she pawed at him and begged him to stay and wept for forgiveness.
He continued to push her away. Loki swung his filled rucksack over his
shoulder, while he hefted up his gym-bag into the crook of his arm, and – as he
cast one final look to Odin – he saw a man so grief-stricken that no words
could come, even as the tears fell. Loki took in a deep breath. He let out a
scoff of breath and marched towards the doors, where Hogun stood only a few
feet away with an eyebrow raised in concern. Loki tossed him the gym-bag, while
Odin stormed forward and grabbed Loki hard by his shoulder with a snarled:
“If you leave now, don’t you evercome back!”
Loki jerked his shoulder out of the grip. He craned his head to see behind him,
where Frigga clenched at the plush toy until a seam tore and her eyes looked
bloodshot with pain, and Odin – paled with trembling lip – gazed pleadingly to
Loki with a shaking fist. A terrible pain overwhelmed Loki, as he choked on air
and bile. Adrenaline coursed through every vein. He swayed on his feet, while
he blinked away tears and walked away for the last time.
“Goodbye, Grandfather . . .”
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
Thor watched at the window.
The car pulled up against the kerb. It struggled to find space between the two
neighbours, while a pedestrian swore loudly as it took up half the pavement,
and – as Thor ran to the front door – he watched with a smile as Hogun climbed
out to remove several boxes. The lack of a front yard made it easier for him to
drag the boxes inside, even if it left any walkers-by with an intimate look
inside Thor’s living room, but Thor made no complaints.
He stood in the doorway with hands outstretched. Hogun shook his head and
ignored the offer to help, as he walked awkwardly past Thor and deposited the
first box into the lounge, and that was when there followed two familiar sounds
of slamming car doors. Thor frowned, as he looked over to the beat-up car where
Fandral climbed out from the driver’s seat. He nearly overlooked Loki at first.
Thor half-suspected Sif or Volstagg, but Loki was a surprise that physically
took his aback. Thor rapidly blinked and shook his head.
Loki stood and leaned against the car door, as he ran a hand through his black
locks, and – as his head turned further into the sun – Thor caught sight of a
red mark over his cheek, which looked both temporary and yet sore. Thor winced
at the sight. The car was filled with far more boxes than expected, so Hogun
must have been carrying several on his lap for the trip back, and the boot was
tied closed with pieces of rope. Thor asked:
“I thought you were only forwarding a few boxes?”
Loki said nothing. He simply stormed across the two feet of pavement and
marched inside, where Thor heard the immediate sound of hammering footsteps on
wooden steps, along with a familiar creak and a slam of a door. Thor winced and
looked to his friends, who worked quickly on shifting items from car into home.
Hogun paused in the doorway to nod at Thor, while Fandral struggled behind him
with two oversized boxes in his arms filled with books and papers. Thor noted
how his arms strained, but he would accept no help.
“Go easy on him,” muttered Hogun.
“Your father kicked him out,” added Fandral. “They were in the middle of an
argument when we got there. We didn’t think much about it at first, but it
ended with a slap to Loki’s face and the famous last words: ‘if you walk out
that door, don’t you ever come back’. Loki sat in the car while we fetched
everything. His room’s bare as bones back home.”
“We called Volstagg for his trailer. He’s storing all non-essentials in his
garage for now, but I’m more worried about Loki than his possessions. It’s not
like his silver tongue to turn to lead, and he’s not spoken a word since we
drove off. Not one word, Thor.”
“We’ll get everything inside, but maybe go speak to him, eh?”
“He will listen to you,” said Hogun.
Thor cursed and jerked his head hard. The fact was that the downstairs
consisted of two small living rooms, one kitchen, and an attached bathroom.
Thor was loath to admit that both he and Jane used an entire living room for
storing boxes of their belongings as thing stood, but now – with Loki’s boxes
joining them – it would only make the house further crowded, unless one of them
decided to shoulder the burden of rent alone and move out.
He watched as Fandral and Hogun piled boxes inside, until the front lounge
looked like a game of Tetris, and he glanced through the inside doors to see
Jane and Donald in the kitchen, both making vast amounts of tea as a show of
gratitude to Fandral and Hogun. He cast his eyes back to the staircase. There
were no sounds from his bedroom, whether from tears or music or pacing
footsteps, and yet the grunts from his friends and the laughter from the
kitchen were audible above all else. Thor ran a hand over his face and
muttered:
“If either of you need anything –”
“We know, we know,” teased Fandral. “Jane’s in the kitchen.”
Thor marched upstairs. He kept his head low and stood between the two bedroom
doors on the dark landing, where he paused with hand on his doorknob, and – as
he drew in a deep breath – he reminded himself that they could pay to store the
boxes, but whatever Loki endured was immediate and not so easily solved. Thor
rested his forehead on the cool wooden frame, while he tried to slow his racing
heart. A few sniffs sounded from within, while their friends laughed and joked
and teased below. The world went on around them.
He carefully opened the bedroom door; Loki sat perched on the bottom bunk, with
a rucksack between his parted legs, and – as he massaged at his temples – Thor
saw the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes ready to fall. Thor crossed
the floor and sat beside Loki. The bed dipped with his weight, knocking Loki
over onto him, and a part of him wondered whether the ‘fall’ was intentional,
as he wrapped his arms around Loki and nuzzled against him.
“Loki?” Thor asked. “Are you okay?”
Thor buried his nose into Loki’s hair, where he breathed deep the familiar
scent of expensive shampoos and conditioners, which Thor could not even
remember last having been able to afford, and he winced when Loki finally
pulled away with a sniff, so that his green eyes – shimmering and blurred –
looked about his new bedroom. The peeling wallpaper and patches of mould on the
ceiling were bearable for a few hours at a time, maybe a stolen weekend, but
Thor swallowed back the shame as expecting Loki to endure it for two more
years.
Loki wiped at his cheeks. Thor smiled and reached out in turn, gently pushing
away Loki’s hands so that he could kiss away every tear, and – as Loki finally
smiled – his eyes fell on the few small changes in Thor’s room in recent weeks.
A gown hung from the back of his bedroom door, while a cap decorated a model of
the human brain, and a stack of presents sat beside a decorative lamp that also
doubled as a paperweight for a stack of applications.
“You keep an old vodka bottle?”
“Ah, that,” said Thor. “It’s actually converted into a lamp.”
“That seems awfully bad taste,” murmured Loki.
“It was the last bottle I ever drank.” Thor smiled and shrugged. “Tony kept it
that night I rang you from the toilets puking up a lung. I think he meant to
keep it as a visual reminder not to be like him, but I went to counselling and
my AA meeting the next day. He saw I was making a real change and saved it for
a new reason instead. He gave it to me on my graduation.”
“How jolly,” teased Loki. “A downer to the day?”
“Nah, it’s actually pretty positive. It’s a reminder of where I came from, but
a reminder that you can change from something poisonous into something
positive. I can change. I have changed. Every time I use it, it literally
lights up and Tony says that’s like me, I ‘light up a room’, and I kind of like
that. I can’t change what I was, but I can use that as a foundation to be
something better, you know? I don’t ever want to forget that . . . plus, it’s
cool.”
Loki laughed. He stood with a few sniffs and snatched his rucksack from the
floor, before he wandered over to the wardrobe and opened it wide. Thor winced
to realise that there was literally no room for any further clothes, with his
own so stacked and squashed inside that the door refused to ever fully close.
They would need to make compromises. Loki rolled his eyes and threw his bag on
top, before he crossed over to the desk and toyed with turning the lamp on and
off, until he sighed and just settled for ‘off’. He called out:
“Well, no one else has a lamp like that.”
“Nope, but . . . can we talk?” Thor winced and shrugged. “Loki, you’re always
welcome here with me, but I wasn’t expecting you for another three months. I’ve
not got my chip for a year sobriety yet, and I’ve only just graduated . . . I
don’t even have a job lined up, while Donald and Jane are always underfoot,
because these old terraced houses are so tiny, and –”
“Don’t tell me you’re chucking me out already?” Loki folded his arms where he
stood. “I know I’m a few months early, but I don’t think – by the look of
things – you would be any better prepared for my arrival then than now.
Besides, where else can I go?”
“I – I’m not kicking you out, Loki.”
“But you don’t want me here, is that it? You have an entire lounge dedicated to
just storage, while this place is merely rented and falling to pieces, and you
haven’t so much as emptied a drawer for me to store even a handful of socks or
underwear. I can see it in your face, Thor. It may as well be painted on your
forehead in red ink: ‘terrified and burdened’.”
Thor watched as Loki walked about the room. He would run a finger over the
shelves, as he curled his lip at the dust that gathered, while opening doors
and struggling to close them once again over how much filled them to the brim.
Thor listened to the kettle boil in the kitchen just beneath his window, where
Jane laughed and cried out at some good-natured teasing, and he just knew that
his friends would be piling out into the garden, as there was just not enough
space to entertain four people indoors. He ran his hands over his beard with a
sigh.
“You’re not a burden,” muttered Thor.
“Don’t lie to me, Uncle.”
“I’m not lying, Loki.” Thor winced and then added with a grunt: “Well, maybe a
little. Can you actually say that any of this is ideal? I’m prepared to make
compromises and sacrifices, because all I want is you, but that doesn’t make it
any easier when we could both be living off ramen noodles and water for weeks
at a time, you know? I’m broke, Loki.”
“I’m not an idiot, Thor. I know my peers thought me one, as I must be the only
student alive with a part-time job, but it enabled me to save a small nest-egg,
and some of those boxes I bought with me -? Rolex watches, Armani suits, a
Stradivarius I never once played –”
“Loki, you know that we can’t –”
“I know that we ‘can’t’, which is why I thought we could sell them,” said Loki.
“I won’t be the only one to sell my old luxuries, while you have far too many
boxes to be justified downstairs, but we wouldn’t have to worry about rent or
food for these two years.”
“You -? I -?” Thor blinked and laughed. “I didn’t even consider selling some of
our old stuff. I’ve just been storing it like an idiot, waiting for when we
might get a place of our own once you finish with education, but – yeah – that
would be pretty great. We might actually be able to use that front room as a
study, like Jane originally planned, too.”
Loki came back over to the bed. He shrugged off his leather coat and draped it
over a chair, followed by his waistcoat and tie, before he sat beside Thor and
rested his hands on one muscled shoulder, so he could – in turn – rest his chin
on his hands. Loki watched Thor with a low hum of contentment, while Thor
turned his head and rubbed their noses together with a soft laugh, and soon
Loki’s soft lips reached out to peck at his cheek. There was a long sigh, when
Loki pulled back and lay down on the bed behind Thor. Thor whispered:  
“How’re you feeling, though?”
Thor lay beside Loki and rested his head on his hand. The bunk was a single
bed, forcing them close enough to share breath and feel each other’s warmth,
and Loki half-closed his eyes as his hand reached out to play with Thor’s
lovelock. Thor hummed an old tune, one half-remembered from their childhood
with Frigga, while he watched how Loki furrowed his brow and pursed at his
lips. He looked broken and vulnerable, even as he said:
“I don’t mind being disowned.”
“You don’t?”
“No,” admitted Loki. “It hurts like a mother-fucker, but in a strange way . . .
I understand. He knows that we’re breaking the law, while he also knows that –
if this falls apart – we could cause irrevocable damage to our family, and he
also believes this to be a sin. We can’t deny that it’s also a social taboo, so
a kneejerk reaction is possibly natural.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” said Thor.
“But that isn’t all.” Loki winced and blinked away tears. “I – I may have
sabotaged Laufey under the pretence of a father-child relationship, and now
he’s awaiting trial and will likely serve a considerable sentence if justice is
delivered. I didn’t care. I thought I was avenging a man like a father to me,
while Laufey abandoned me and never wanted me.
“It turns out that Laufey truly didn’t even know I was alive. Fárbauti kept it
from him, likely unwilling to have me a part of her household for obvious
reasons, while Helblindi and Býleistr were always far older than me and never
needed Laufey’s permission to be a part of my life, while agreeing with
Fárbauti to keep her lies. Grandfather played to this open secret, as he didn’t
want to risk a court battle. He kept me from Laufey. He lied to me.”
Thor flinched with a curse. He wrapped his arms around Loki and pulled him
tight, before he rolled onto his back with Loki rested on his chest, and – as
Loki sobbed while listening to his heartbeat – he entangled their legs together
and placed chaste kisses to black hair. It was difficult to imagine how this
would change Loki’s identity and self-perception . . . the unwanted child was
now the wanted man, but bridges were burned and how would Laufey forgive the
one who left him to rot in a dirty cell. Thor said in a quiet voice:
“I’m sorry, Loki.”
Loki sniffed and sat astride Thor. It was a position that may have aroused Thor
at any other time, but all he could see were those paled cheeks and bloodshot
eyes, and – as Thor reached up to cup his neck – he realised how ice-cold
Loki’s skin felt to the touch. Loki wrapped his hand over Thor’s before he
entwined their fingers with a sad smile, and a stray tear ran down his cheek as
a broken smile crossed his lips. Thor took in a deep breath, before he pulled
Loki down and pressed their foreheads to one another. He briefly closed to his
eyes.
“Loki, what can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” said Loki. “I destroyed any relationship I might have with Laufey. I
may as well have rammed a blade straight into his heart, and – thanks to his
imprisonment – I have well and truly burned that bridge. All for nothing! I did
it all for him . . . for Grandfather . . . he instead wishes I’d never
committed such an act, while I just – I just – I –! I want to hurt and be hurt.
I want to be punished. I want to run . . . hide . . . break. . . I can’t –!
“Do you ever feel like just letting go? I feel like I could just walk in front
of a car, or jump from a window, or throw myself from a bridge . . . I feel I
have nothing to lose, because the world hates me and the world’s turned its
back on me, and all I have is you, Thor. I – I’m turning to you, even as you
fight to avoid a single sip, and what if I’m driving you to –”
“No, Loki,” swore Thor. “No. My actions are my choice. If I was stressed or
worried over this depression of yours, it would still be my choice to take a
drink or abstain, and those actions would never be your fault. You are entitled
to your emotions, Loki.”
“Even if those emotions hurt those around me?”
“Even then!” Thor held him tight. “You never need to feel ashamed to feel as
you feel. I don’t want you to bottle things up, always worried how I might
react, and – hey – why don’t I cut you a deal here . . . if I feel like I need
to drink, I’ll come to you, but if you feel that you want to hurt yourself, you
come to me. We’ll continue therapy in the meantime.”
Loki let out a long sigh, as he rolled back onto his side. Thor saw the tension
to his shoulders, while his hands clenched into tight fists until the knuckles
turned white, and his jaw was clenched until his lips became but a thin line.
The day was still young, but Thor knew that Loki would want to sink into a hot
bath and hide away until nightfall. He forced himself to sit upright with a
crick of his neck, as he reached out to undo Loki’s shirt, while Loki lay limp
and allowed him to slowly strip the shirt from his body without a single
complaint.
“I think they’re nearly done downstairs,” whispered Loki.
Thor shrugged. He carefully folded the shirt, before he threw Loki’s dressing-
gown at him from where it sat folded on the top bunk, and – with a yawn –
slowly worked at Loki’s trousers and shoes while he listened to the noises
outside. The barbeque started to let out delicious scents of cooking meats,
while there followed the familiar noises of someone popping the tabs of non-
alcoholic beer, and the familiar complaints about the taste.
He continued to undress Loki, until he was completely nude, and – as Loki
cursed at the cold – Thor rolled his eyes and wrapped him in the dressing gown,
before pulling the thick blankets over his limp frame. It was difficult to
begrudge Loki a day of being spoiled, especially when his depressions often hit
hard and fast, but there were still so many issues to overcome and so much to
organise if Loki were to stay long-term. Thor took Loki’s hand and massaged the
tense flesh with the pads of his thumbs, as he shrugged with a sigh.
“They can wait,” muttered Thor.
“Do you think this can work?” Loki asked. “I know we lived together before
Grandfather kicked you out, but we never shared a room and now there’s so much
more . . . your alcoholism, my issues, Jane’s recovery . . . what if this
doesn’t work out? We could have sacrificed everything for nothing. I love you,
but I can’t see you hurt.”
“Loki, all we have left is each other.” Thor pressed a kiss to his brow. “If
this doesn’t work out, we can go back to being just friends and relatives . . .
you’d still have Sigyn, I’d still have Sif and the self-styled Warriors Three .
. . we’re all a family already, but just a family we chose and a family we
committed toward. I think it’s clear blood’s not exactly thicker than water,
and we can’t go back at this point, can we? We have nothing to go back to.”
“So we make this work?”
“No, Loki, I’m not putting that pressure on us. What we make work is our
friendship and mutual support, because if we try to force a romantic
relationship and it doesn’t work out . . . we’ll just add to the guilt and
shame and push us both into relapses. If I’m honest, I think we’ll work. We’ve
worked for the past three years, Loki! The only difference now is we’ll be
living together. If that’s enough to break us -? Well, we’ll still remain
friends.”
Loki hummed and pulled Thor beside him. Thor scrunched closed his eyes to fight
back tears, as he held Loki tight against his chest, and he knew these
questions . . . fear the three-year romance might fail, fear he might push Thor
into a relapse. . . all stemmed from the same fear of abandonment. He was
rejected by Odin. He betrayed Laufey. Every breath Loki took was shuddered and
broken, even as Thor stroked a hand through his hair and shushed him with
gentle sounds, while Loki nodded upward and said with a shaky smirk:
“I guess I could take the top bunk, if we break up.”
“See, I told you they were a good idea.”
Loki laughed, while Thor strove to hold him ever closer. The laughter outside
made it clear their friends were content, but Loki’s phone buzzed over and over
from his coat pocket, until – with an annoying sound – Thor’s started to ring
out between Loki’s calls. They ignored the sounds of the outside world, while
they simply basked in each other’s presence, and Thor slid his hand beneath
Loki’s gown so that he could press his palm against that racing heart, and –
with a murmur of relief – he let a tear fall as he felt each and every beat.
“I love you, Loki. That will never change.”
Loki smiled and said with a sigh:
“I love you, too, Thor.”
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter by Rising_Eagle_(Robin_Mask), Robin_Mask
“Loki, watch Narfi!”
Thor awkwardly juggled the shopping bags, as he kicked closed the apartment
door. A few apples spilled out from one, rolling across the floorboards with
small thuds, and – as Thor cursed – he walked over to the open kitchenette and
dropped the bags onto the counter. The apartment was surprisingly spotless. A
baby-gate stopped Narfi from crossing over into the kitchen, while others
blocked the bedroom and bathroom from further access, and all his toys
surprisingly appeared still in perfect place inside the toy-box off to the
side.
A familiar theme tune blared from the television, sung in French, while Thor
quickly tried to ram the perishables into the refrigerator, as he watched Narfi
with a nervous eye. Narfi was a beautiful boy, with curly blonde hair and eyes
so green they could almost be mistaken as the same as Loki, and yet he held
Loki’s natural curiosity and constantly reached out for all that was in the way
of his grasping hands. He toddled around the coffee-table.
Loki sat cross-legged on the floor with glasses perched on his nose. He looked
remarkably young, even at twenty-six, and that impression wasn’t helped by his
hair cut short and slicked back against his skull. The laptop before him was
littered with dozens of open windows and graphs and charts, while paperwork
littered the glass top until nothing could be seen except contracts and letters
and various official documents. Loki pushed a pen behind his ear and pulled at
the collar of his polo-neck jumper, as he called back:
“I am busy, Thor.”
Thor rolled his eyes, as he glanced to the timetable stuck on the fridge door.
It was nearly time for Narfi’s lunch, which was scheduled as a fruit salad with
yoghurt, but it would take time to prepare and already Narfi appeared to be
getting ever closer and closer to a black mug that also sat on the tabletop.
Every time Narfi grabbed for a piece of paper, Loki would lightly smack his
hand and whisper a cold ‘no’, while Narfi would roll his eyes with a sigh and
reach for another one as if the next might wield another response.
It brought a smile to Thor’s lips, even as his heart raced to see him get
closer and closer to the mug that likely held scorching coffee, and – unable to
endure any further – Thor dropped a cabbage into the vegetable drawer and ran
to the table. He snatched Narfi up just inches from the mug, throwing him high
in the air with a feigned laugh. Luckily, Narfi assumed the several throws to
be a game and not a distraction. Thor snapped with an ever-present smile:
“He could have scalded himself!”
“Really?” Loki rolled his eyes. “I think not.”
Thor continued to throw Narfi into the air, catching him with loud roars of
laughter or fake gasps of surprise, while the two-year old boy giggled and
cried out until his cheeks turned red, and Loki – letting out a long sigh at
the sight – reached for his mug. He tapped the top, which was covered with a
piece of plastic, and then tipped it upside-down over his laptop . . . nothing.
It was clearly a travel-mug, with a child-proof lid for extra reassurance.
Thor cursed and slid onto the floor beside Loki. He struggled to keep Narfi on
his lap, but soon grabbed one of the stray apples from the floor and found a
water-wipe from a box beneath the coffee-table, and – wiping it clean – handed
it to Narfi with a big smile. Narfi struggled to eat the apple, far too large
for his tiny mouth, but it would keep him occupied with his stubborn
determination, while Thor tried to avoid Loki’s cold glare aimed straight at
his cheek, and instead bounced Narfi on his lap with gentle smiles. Loki asked:
“Do you really think me so bad a parent?”
“Of course not,” muttered Thor.
“You’re too over-protective.” Loki sighed and returned to typing at his laptop.
“You know that I’ve been sneaking him cookies whenever you leave the house,
right? We have a secret stash behind a false bottom in the cutlery drawer. What
kind of boy can’t even eat sugar? He isn’t even allowed on his tricycle without
a helmet . . . indoors, I may add.”
“Okay, so I’m a little over-protective. He’s our firstborn, that’s all, and
he’s the only family we have left, and – let’s face it – it’s not been easy
moving over here. Belgium is great, but I miss being able to speak Icelandic or
English, and I miss our friends.”
“I can understand that, Thor, but you really need to trust me.”
“I just thought you’d spend more time with him . . .”
Thor awkwardly slid his hand into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a Swiss army
knife and worked at pealing the apple, before he cut it up into small chunks
and pushed away some of the paperwork to set down the slices for Narfi to grab
with tiny fists, and Loki – with a heavy hiss of breath – snatched at the
papers to pile up on the other side of the table. Thor slid the knife back and
did the button over his picket to be safe, while he wiped at Narfi’s mouth as
juice spilled everywhere. Loki let out a low groan and slammed closed his
laptop.
“Look, Thor, I’ve a lot of work that needs to be finished.”
“You’re not the only one that works, Loki.” Thor kissed at Narfi’s cheeks with
a laugh. “I’m not underestimating the difficulties of working as a lawyer, but
you’re not the only one that’s working full-time! I can’t raise Narfi on my
own. I need some support.”
“Well, that much is obvious. Is he still drawing on the walls?”
“Ah, no, I fixed that problem,” chirped Thor. “I tacked up white-boards all
over the lower parts of the walls; he can draw all he wants and we just have to
wipe it off, so it kills two birds with one stone, and I also swapped out all
his pens for water-based markers, so it’ll wash off his skin and clothes
without any stains. I covered all bases.”
“So now he thinks it’s okay to draw on the walls?”
“I could say the same about tipping mugs.”
Thor rolled his eyes and tipped the travel mug upside-down. Loki huffed and
snatched it back, before he placed it on top of his laptop and reached out for
Narfi, and – with a loud laugh – Narfi jumped happily on Loki’s lap and
clamoured at him with juice-covered hands. A curl of the lip and narrowing of
the eyes betrayed Loki’s disgust; Thor dangled a wipe before him, knowing what
was about to come next, as Loki yanked it from his hands and quickly wiped at
his jumper, before he worked at Narfi’s hands. Thor nuzzled against him and
whispered:
“I still want for us try to for another one.”
“Another what?” Loki mumbled.
“A baby, Loki. Narfi needs a brother or sister.”
There followed an awkward silence. Loki blinked rapidly and shook his head, as
he reached around Narfi to pile up his papers and place them underneath the
travel mug, all the while Narfi yanked at his jumper and whined for attention,
and Thor – taking pity on their son – lifted him away and hugged him close
against his chest. Loki sighed and moved his possessions over to the dining
room table, too high for Narfi to reach, as he called back:
“We can barely look after this one.”
“We could use your sperm this time,” said Thor. “Sigyn did say she was open to
being a surrogate again, if we wanted another child, and she was still open to
that when we last spoke, so they’d be biologically siblings. It’s not as though
we can’t provide for another one, plus I could always take less hours at work
to spend more time with them. It’s an idea.”
“I’m a bit dubious about using the same surrogate.” Loki collapsed into a
chair, as he removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You forget
I have to endure Helblindi and Býleistr being both my uncles and my brothers,
and it’s  . . . it’s messed up.”
“It’s up to you, Loki, but we could always adopt instead.”
“No. No, not that,” muttered Loki. “I like that idea even less after what Odin
put us through, all because of his lies and refusal to let Laufey be a part of
my life. I’ll think about using Sigyn as a surrogate again, but – truth be told
– my biggest concern is whether we have the time or attention for another
child. It’s not as though we have a support base here.”
Thor winced. It was a truth they could not deny; Loki was forced to work on the
floor, whenever Thor left the apartment, just so he could be close to Narfi and
within reach, and that inevitably made work so much harder. Thor also knew how
difficult it was to lift weights or complete push-ups, as Narfi tried to climb
over him and thought they were playing games, and all the while both men often
ended up too exhausted to even make love come the evenings, once Narfi was
finally exhausted and asleep. Thor leaned back against the sofa.
“Mother still stays in touch,” said Thor.
“Yes, secretly,” said Loki. “It’s not as though she’d be able to fly over
should there be an emergency, and Sif and Fandral moved back to Iceland to
raise their family. Hogun moved back to Japan, Volstagg works and has a family,
and Sigyn and Jane are amazing, but . . . they still live in England, just like
Volstagg does. We’re already juggling shifts as things stand, just so one of us
is always with Narfi, and with one more -?”
“I could always quit work, if it bothers you. It’s like you say, the only job a
personal trainer has is to break a sweat, and . . . I believe you said there
are far more enjoyable ways to break a sweat, right?” Thor laughed with a wink.
“I can work out from home, plus I was thinking about starting up some workout
videos and maybe writing a book. It’s an idea.”
“You didn’t study three years for an honours degree just to be a stay-at-home
dad, did you? I don’t know, Thor. It’s one thing to be alone with them a few
hours a day, but if you had to be alone with them all the time, can you
honestly say it wouldn’t drive you crazy?”
“Loki, do you realise what you just said?”
“No, Thor, what did I just say?”
Thor stood and gently dropped Narfi onto the floor. He positioned the apple
chunks in the shape of a smiley face, while he quickly scanned the room for any
objects in reach that might pose a threat, but even the markers were uncapped
for potential choking hazards. There was even tape around the remote, just in
case Narfi somehow opened the back and tried to swallow the batteries. Thor
finally satisfied himself that Narfi was safe, as he walked over to the cramped
dining area and stood behind Loki to whisper:
“You called them ‘them’.”
Loki tensed as Thor kneaded at his shoulders. There were several knots, which
brought small hissed to Loki’s lips as each one was worked away, and Thor
watched silently as Loki opened his laptop and arranged his paperwork. The
first document he saw was clearly a CV, while the second looked like a cover
letter, and Thor smiled to realise that Loki was going for that promotion at
work, which would help them greatly with a second child.
“Bollocks,” muttered Loki.
Thor laughed and leaned down to place a kiss to his cheek, followed by another
and another, until Narfi cried out and dropped his apple chunk to the floor,
and – running as fast as his little legs would allow – threw himself on Thor’s
leg and reached up with grasping hands. It was impossible to resist him. Thor
lifted him up and sat opposite Loki, where Narfi stood tall on his lap and
pressed a kiss to his cheek with a loud ‘mwah’ noise, clearly jealous at not
being the centre of attention. Thor kiss Narfi’s forehead with a laugh and
asked:
“I was thinking ‘Hela’ for a girl?”
“Don’t you worry that would be a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Loki winced. “I
would like to honour my mother, but I would also prefer a name less loaded with
disgrace. I rather liked Váli for a boy? Freyja is a nice girl’s name, too, it
reminds me of ‘Frigga’.”
“What about for a surname? Thorson or –”
“Thorson or Thorsdóttir.”
“Even if they’re your biological child?”
“Let’s not argue on tradition, Thor,” said Loki. “They would be biological
siblings, yes? I think it would be better for them to have the same surname.
Don’t you remember school? I used to get teased mercilessly for having a
different surname, and it was only worse after we explained Icelandic
patronymics. ‘Your uncle is the same age as you? Creepy’!”
“Well, hopefully people continue to buy that we aren’t related, so our children
won’t have that problem, at least.” Thor scratched at his beard with a sigh.
“Okay, so Freyja Thorsdóttir or Váli Thorson? I – I also wanted to ask you
something serious, Loki, but I need you to remain calm while we talk, and just
remember . . . Narfi is old enough to know when we’re arguing, so no raised
voices. You wouldn’t want to scare him, right?”
Loki let out a hiss of breath, as he lowered the laptop screen. He looked over
the rim of his glasses, while he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his
head to the side, and glanced quickly to the clock on the mantelpiece,
obviously concerned with his deadlines. Thor opened his mouth to usher out an
apology, but – with a strong yank – Narfi grabbed at his lovelock and Thor
cried out in pain. He struggled to pry away little fingers, as Narfi laughed
and tried to climb higher, while Loki struggled not to laugh as he asked in a
firm voice:
“What have you done, Thor?”
“Father still wants to be able to see Narfi.”
“No.” Loki’s tone turned cold. “I absolutely refuse.”
“Loki, it’s –”
“It’s probably a trick,” spat Loki. “We’ll either be arrested the second that
we set foot back in England, or he’ll arrange for social services to snatch the
children away from us, while we have to navigate the hassle of battling through
the various international courts. If he comes here, there’s every chance he’ll
cause a scene or a scandal. Why does he even care, anyway?”
“He’s old, Loki. He knows he doesn’t have long left.” Thor winced. “I think
we’ll both regret it if we don’t make amends, as it’ll haunt us forever . . .
words left unsaid, questions left unanswered, a real goodbye never given . . .
he regrets having disowned us.”
“Let him regret. He will not see my son.”
“Our son, Loki. Our children, too, once Sigyn conceives.” Thor sighed and
shrugged his shoulders. “If you don’t want Narfi to see him, I can go alone. I
just . . . I need this, Loki. I don’t want him to die thinking that I hate him,
and I don’t want him to die without getting some straight answers to the
questions that plague me. He’s my father.”
Loki pursed at his lips and looked to Narfi. They would be unable to put off
his lunch for much longer, while he also was due for a bath in an hour’s time
and then a nap, and it seemed that their entire lives revolved around a boy who
only just learnt to say ‘da’. Loki smiled and glanced to the photographs on the
mantelpiece, which stood on either side of the clock . . . family photographs,
images of parents who must have felt this same love. . . Loki pulled off his
glasses and dropped them onto the table, as he ran his hands over his face.
Loki muttered:
“Ask if he can wait a month.”
“Why wait a month?”
“I want to arrange things with Sigyn about the surrogacy, maybe get that
started sooner rather than later,” admitted Loki. “We’ll also need something
bigger than a one-bedroom apartment, especially if we’ll be having guests stay
on top of another child, and I also want time to emotionally prepare. You can
see him in the meantime, but for him to see Narfi -? I want a month to get
things ready and to find the courage. I want some time.”
“I think he has a few years,” said Thor. “I’m actually hoping he’ll make it
long enough to meet Freyja or Váli, but we don’t have to rush through
everything just because you think there’s this new added pressure . . . let’s
take our time with the conception and moving out. If you rush now, you’ll only
add to the stress, Loki. I know I’m springing this all on you and –”
“No, you’ve been discussing all these issues for a while. It’s my fault for not
taking it seriously and addressing them earlier, but you must admit it’s far
easier to run from your problems than to actually face them head on,” teased
Loki.
“Okay, that’s a lesson we’re not teaching our children.”
Thor laughed, as he lifted Narfi high into the air. He smiled to see Narfi
laugh, only to pull him tight into a warm hug and press soft kisses to his
blond hair, and – as he carefully stood – he placed Narfi onto the floor and
walked over to the kitchenette. Thor climbed over the child-gate; Narfi ran
after him and grasped at the bars, before his face fell and he collapsed onto
his buttocks with a loud cry of defeat, and Thor quickly went to work on the
salad and homemade yoghurt. He called out over the loud tears:
“Do you think we’ll be good parents?”
“Well, we hardly have good examples to follow,” muttered Loki.
“No, I’m being serious, Loki. Do you think we’ll do good by our children?”
Loki shrugged and pushed back his chair. He came around to scoop Narfi into his
arms and leaned against the kitchen wall, while Narfi sniffed loudly and tried
to reach out to Thor, even as Thor whispered heartbroken apologies and leaned
back to kiss him. Narfi yelled out ‘no’ and buried his head against Loki, where
he sniffed and sobbed and hid away from Thor. It brought a laugh to Loki’s
lips, as he stole the intended kiss instead, with a whispered:
“You already are a perfect father, Thor.”
Thor blinked away tears, as he dropped the knife he held onto the side. He
reached out to cup Loki’s neck with slightly wet fingers, pulling him so close
that Narfi was somewhat squashed between them, and – with a broken laugh –
pressed his lips to Loki’s and kissed him long and deep, until both pulled away
breathless. Thor quickly turned back to the meal with a laugh, as he shook his
head and wiped at his eyes, while Narfi reached back for Thor and grasped the
air for a kiss in turn. Thor pecked his cheek, before he looked back to Loki
and said:
“I love you, Loki.”
“I love you, too,” swore Loki.
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