#aesir loki

❄️ Jotun Thor/Aesir Loki political marriage AU

❄️ 57k, explicit

❄️ World building, intrigue, miscommunication, animal characters, slow burn, angst with a happy ending.

I messed up the background and made myself sad, then decided to do this digitally instead

Here’s the result:

First: thank you! It makes me so happy to hear you’re enjoying that sweet and wholesome (well, wholesome until the sex drive turned on) story. 😊

Second: holy troll-y I’d never thought about what might happen if Canon Thor and Loki met TLFT Thor and Loki and I am intrigued! 🤩

I bet Troll Loki would be in awe of his “tall, beautiful Æsir” version, which is ironic because I headcanon that Canon Loki has serious issues with his body image and self-esteem after it was revealed he was a Frost Giant in Thor (2011). And even though he shows Troll Loki his true skin (“I’m not Asgardian, see?” he murmurs), it still doesn’t matter. Troll Loki instantly adores his “cousin”.

“You’re so beautiful!” he gushes, tail wagging and hands clasped together under his chin. “And you can do magic! Will you teach me?”

Canon Loki looks down at this sweet little creature and his heart aches. This version has learned to love himself, has made peace with who and what he is. Perhaps he can, too.

I imagine them wandering off together, talking about their lives and their cruel fathers and being misfits, feeling like they don’t belong anywhere, redemption, sorcery, personal doubts, how they each deal with problems related to their heritage, maybe shedding a few tears together.

And meanwhile both Thors are standing to the side and having an amicable conversation that may sound like: 

“So… do you love your Loki as much as I love mine?”

“Twice as much.”

“Impossible. No one can love anything more than I love my Loki.”

“One can now.”

“Oh, really?”

“Aye, really.”

The Serpent's Kiss, my fic for the 2022 @thorkibigbang with art by @midnottart is up!

❄️ Jotun Thor/Aesir Loki political marriage AU

❄️ 55k, already written, will update twice weekly

❄️ Explicit, slow burn, angst with a happy ending

❄️ Politics! Intrigue! Age difference! Direwolves!

Summary

Loki is the second child of Asgard’s imperial throne, the unwanted spare who can do no right in his father, Odin's, and sister, Hela's, eyes. Thor is Jotunheim’s fiercest defender against Aesir conquest, its army general, Laufey’s first child, crown prince…and long time object of Loki’s youthful obsession. When Loki’s rash actions throw the two realms’ delicate peace negotiations into disarray, he is forced to marry the Jotun prince, tearing control of his future—and maybe even his very bodily autonomy—out of his hands, and making a mockery of his dream of having Thor, which he is determined to escape at any cost.

While Thor…his dreams carry portents, and this time he dreamt he embraced a serpent, and that embrace brought not only peace, but something more.

We are down to the final few chapters, folks, and I'm happy to report this is now officially my most popular Thorki fic by every metric. 🥹🥹 Thanks again to @midnottart for being the best damn Bang buddy!

-------------------------------------------------

The wide corridors and high, vaulted rooms of Utgard’s palace were largely quiet and deserted at such an unreasonable hour, which allowed Loki to track the mysterious voice without the seidr noise created by all living things—and especially people—throwing him off the trail. He dragged Thor by the hand at a brisk pace, into the ever-taxing process of climbing and descending multiple flights of giant-sized stairs, through whole ruined sections of the palace where snow fell deep, until at last they trended down, down, down into rough-hewn rock.

“Do you have any idea where we may be going?” Loki asked.

When Thor gave a noncommittal hum in response, Loki looked back at him. His face was studiously blank.

“If you knew what was singing at me this whole time, I’m going to kill you,” Loki grumbled, picking up his pace down a long passage that would have been utterly black if it weren’t for the numerous witch lights he’d conjured and spelled to follow them, floating at waist height. They cast eerie shadows in the hollows of Thor’s almost glow-in-the-dark red eyes, lending him a true “monster from Asgardian campfire tales” appearance. Irritating, how endearing Loki found that.

“You did not tell me it had continued to bother you until now. And you are welcome to try, again,” Thor replied, earning a withering look.

At last they came to a heavy stone door, the surface carved with runes. 

There is a lil bonus art by @midnottart this chapter!

I'm posting the entire prologue below, enjoy.

Prologue

Thor sat nude astride his direwolf’s back, high on one of Jotunheim’s many lonely peaks. The snow-flecked air felt like a caress over his bare skin, and from this vantage point, his keen red eyes could make out the distant fires of Asgard’s war camp and the neutral-zoned parlay camp one valley over from it. Dreams had roused him from his bed and left him restless enough that he’d given up sleep entirely, fetched Fenrir, and ridden her out to find a patch of freshly fallen snow to roll naked in, the common Jotun healer’s remedy for stress and troubled sleep.

But while the snow bath had been refreshing, it had done nothing to free Thor from the fact that the dream had felt prescient, as his dreams often did. Prophetic, but not clear: this time he’d been lying on the roots of Yggrasil, wrapped in the coils of a great serpent. His first instinct had been to fight, to grope for a knife with which to slay the creature and cut himself free, but then it occurred to him, in the logic that only dreams have, that the snake wasn’t intending to harm him. He forced himself to relax, to fall back into its grip, and all at once the slow movement of its body over his felt more sensual than threatening.

It had raised its diamond-shaped head, blinked its emerald eyes, and kissed his cheeks with its forked tongue before striking him in the chest. The creature's fangs dwarfed his own, burying deep in the flesh over his heart and causing his whole body to tense with pain, but when his blood flowed from the wound, it formed into the blooms of red flowers scattered across his chest, a symbol Thor knew to represent love—or lust—on many realms where such flowers grew. Then the snake loosened its grip, and he rolled onto his side, spilling the flowers to the ground beside him. When he looked again, they had turned to peace lilies, white as snow.

It was a flower common to and beloved on Asgard, and also Alfheim, where Thor's grandsire’s folk heralded from. And, well, peace was in the very name.

“I cannot make sense of it, Fenrir,” he mused to his wolf, rubbing a palm along the curve of her powerful shoulder. “Am I destined to bleed for it, but ultimately peace between Jotunheim and Asgard will prevail? And why the red flowers? Am I to be romanced by a serpent?”

Only Thor had already bled for it, on more occasions than he cared to count, leaving his body littered with pale scars. 

He scrubbed at his face with one hand, recalling the intimate way the snake had gripped and released him with its muscled coils. He’d sought novel experiences on many worlds in and beyond the Nine Realms before Asgard’s invasion had locked him here in defense of his homeland, but a snake? He let out a laugh and took one last look at the far off enemy war camp. Sniffing the exotic scent of their crackling fires on the wind—audaciously fueled with wood they had to bring over via the Bifrost, the wealthy bastards—wasn’t likely to solve anything.

“Well, we have fought them to such a standstill they are willing to negotiate, and that is more than I had hoped for when this all started.”

Fenrir, who had carried Thor into countless battles and had the matching scars to prove it, bent her massive head around and licked his shin, making a soft whining sound. He usually carried bits of liver to feed her as a treat, but being naked, he had nowhere to keep any.

He gave her a pat and dug his heels into her thick, soft-furred sides. “Are you hungry? Let us head back to camp and find you fresh fish to eat.”

--------------------------------------------------

“Just repeat after me,” Thor said, filling his voice with all the encouragement he could muster. He took a bite of the fish, and passed the rest to Loki, who dutifully nibbled at it. “As long as I have a crumb to eat, half shall be yours.”

Loki repeated it, stiff-lipped.

The shaman handed Thor the cup, and he swallowed half before passing the rest to Loki to drink. “As long as I have a sip of mead to drink, half shall be yours.”

Loki recited his line, then Thor nodded to the cloth held aloft over them by his siblings. “As long as I have shelter, you shall never be left out in the storm.”

Thor’s world narrowed down to the small space between, the lost, afraid, conflicted expression in Loki’s eyes as he spoke, and the ocean deep conviction he felt in his own breast at the words; not trite declarations of manufactured roles, but the promise to persevere as equals on a grim and perilous world. There was no warm sun here for Loki, no gilded palace. They were two souls at odds, forced together from fathoms apart to live as one, and even if Loki never grew to love him, Thor would do his best by his vows to keep him healthy and whole.

“I will be the watcher at your back in the dark of night, so you might rest.”

Loki’s throat bobbed thickly, but just as each time before, he repeated.