#pre-thor

She supposed it was only fair; she'd gotten better at hiding from you over the years, as a challenge for your mind to stay as keen as hers. And you rose on every occasion. Any challenge she had ever given you, you'd passed with flying colors. And you'd seen her grow, seen her lose control of her magic, held her as she cried, only a few years older than you. She had come to rely on you. She learned to depend on your footsteps always seeking her out at least once an hour. She loved the way you looked in your clothes and she'd adore seeing you in hers, or none at all.

Well, she was working on that. You were about to disappear again, allow her her solitude, so considerate.

Hela melted into the shadows she cast and appeared in yours, pinning you against the fountain Odin had built in the garden he'd given his new wife. She felt a bit of rage, knowing the woman was weakening her father, but looked up into your alarmed eyes and felt the world steady around her. She smiled, a sweet one reserved only for you and her father. "Forgive me, I was hoping you'd come. Waiting."

You were accustomed to Hela's emotions randomly surfacing, an undeniable side effect of so many wars, but she'd never told you a hope so personal. She had her monarchical wishes for the kingdom, and the other ones which would soon become her kingdom, and the cruel ones for those who ever harmed her or hers to flay alive and for eternity. To hear she hoped for you sparked your own foolish hope. You'd loved your princess since seeing her, learning to support her head, and you'd been in love with her since you were a teenager. Of course, she was your charge and your princess so nothing could arise so you did the best you could raising her after her mother's passing. She grew up loved, though cursed with the power of Death. "Apologies for the wait, my lady?" you guessed, unsure of how to respond.

That displeased her; you saw the disappointment in her eyes, but she still smiled. She raised one hand from your shoulder, the other still pinning you, and held your face. "Oh," she intoned, making your heart jump, "my sweet. My guardian." She stepped into you.

"My lady?" you echoed.

Hela's eyes seemed to glow as she stared down at you. She traced over every feature as if she might never see it again. "I command you to be honest for me."

Your gaze up into her own went lax at the use of 'for me'. You'd do anything for her and she knew it.

The goddess leaned down that last bit and kissed you. She released your shoulder, feeling you not relax because the bird fountain was two layered and that would hurt, but try to while kissing her back. Neither of you were very good, or experienced, but just the confirmation had Hela growling. She gripped your clothing and you felt it thin from the force, unweaving enough to snap if she yanked. "Yes?" she asked expectantly.

You nodded against her, unable to consider all of the reasons you'd tried to talk yourself out of loving her with all your life at that moment. You sought out her lips again, helpless.

She growled again, tearing your clothes and kissing you again before moving down. What she lacked in skill, she made up for in curiosity. Hela gripped your thighs, holding you up to sit on the lower level of the bird bath and explored your neck and chest. "If you wish for me to stop, you grab my hair. Otherwise, you will never do so." She dove back in.

You whined as she nibbled on your neck. You gasped when she traced her tongue down your collarbone. You arched as she sucked on your breast like a baby starving.

Her chilled fingers slipped down your front, tickling and earning more sounds but seeking a higher prize. She left you to sit on the first level of the unbreakable-stone-made fountain, squatting to hold your thighs apart. She was breathless as the visual you created, how soaked you were probably since she put her hands on you. She cleaned up your thigh for no other reason than to tease because they would get messy again. It helped that you made such sweet sounds. The first swipe of her tongue had you attempting to jerk away, but Hela had your thighs pinned to her.

You gripped the sides of the fountain easiest for you. She pulled you more securely against her, tongue dipping inside you, and your back lost some strength, as did one hand. You were quite dependent on the structure Hela had chosen for you, though you attempted to regain your grip. Your rings made small clicking sounds as you gripped the stone. Your back arched as Hela's wet tongue left your weeping hole, tracing upward. Your hips twisted in her grip as she found something better and you held both hands on the upper level of the fountain, desperate not to grab her hair. She couldn't stop- You were right- "Hela!" you squeaked, feeling the need to warn her.

She pulled back very suddenly, leaving you now cold and naked in the outside air. She flipped her hair over her shoulder with the flick of her head, stepping further back. "Kneel," she commanded in a suddenly very powerful tone. She rested one hand on her hip, donning the posture of a queen.

You were helpless to obey. Your ass and knees would bruise from how you fell but it was nothing to your devotion to Hela.

With a fond smile, she stepped back toward you. One hand found your hair. She held it in an iron grip, pulling you under the skirt the other had lifted. You almost vanished under it once you made contact with your princess' heat. She dropped the layers to hold one hand on your shoulder. You were even less experienced with this part than Hela, something that pleased her as much as it turned her on. Your sloppy attempts were sweet, but- her legs turned to jello when you slipped inside just as she had, but you brought fingers into the mix. Hela suddenly wished she'd warmed hers inside you. Her hand on your shoulder, the other holding your hair, she was as dependant on you as you'd been. It was a delight to hear her own moans, though muffled by her thighs and skirt. Your thumb applied pressure to her clit while your tongue stayed inside her, tasting her orgasm from the source. She was hot and pulsing around you and she very suddenly changed in your mouth.

Fluid flooded your tongue while Hela allowed more than the sex to wash over her. The blackness she used to form her crown was used for something quite different as her clit mutated out into a small, yet growing phallus. You were unfamiliar with male anatomy, only vying for the fairer, and pulled away.

Hela's skirt was pulled over your head again and she pulled back. "Unless you want to be on the fountain again, find a surface, my sweet." She relished how the nickname had a new, though not untrue, meaning. You backed away from the bird bath, and your princess who stalked toward you, and sat on the bench you and she had had many a conversation on. You'd never done this. Standing astride the bench, the future queen stared down at you, dark locks trailing over her shoulders. She was the royal and you were the prey, her prey, only hers. She held your abdomen very carefully, hands gripping where your ribs were. She could easily kill you like this, but instead turned you over.

You whimpered as her clothes melted as she did so. You wanted to see her. But you obediently put your hands on the stone, standing in front of your princess, presenting.

Hela took deep, hedonistic pleasure out of this and slowly lined up with your cunt. She wasn't as big as she could grow, but that would come. Instead, she made you feel good one inch at a time. The princess had taken many a-servants virginity to test the most pleasurable way to do this. You were so wet, you were practically dripping onto the ground while going down on her so she wasn't truly concerned. As she moved in, you let her, so slick she grew inside you, stretching you until you let out a shout. She moved back, then back in, at a slow pace to test it out. You moaned. She did it again, harder. Careful never to hurt you until you asked for it, she soon found herself jackhammering into you, listening to your drawn out moan.

"My sweet, my sweet, you feel- so good- wet, tight, fuck. Oh, my-" Hela could feel herself getting close and reached an arm around your waist to pulled you up against her, and back and against her and back and she rubbed your clit, listening to the vague begging run off into a slurred mess. "Mine," she growled into your idle ear.

You tried to fall against the bench as you came down, but she kept going, just as fast and you felt yourself get close again. "Yours. Shit- my queen!" you tried to warn, but instead just came, hard harder than before and you soaked Hela, the both of you in a haze of love and heat as she worked you both through the waves crashing.

Hela braced herself with a hand beside your head. She barely didn't fall on top of you and simple kissed your shoulder. She hummed. "I liked that queen bit," she admitted.

You huffed a laugh. "You always were," you mumbled in a lost voice.

“Thor, your stories are the best of all Asgard! Tell us how you’ve slain the beasts in Vanaheim!”

“Yes, do that, Thor! Wasn’t it in the blink of an eye that you wielded your hammer against their battle hog?!”

“I’ve heard it was your bare fist.”

“I’ve heard Loki assisted you by causing a fire storm.”

The men and women in the ceremonial hall were cutting in on each other in all their excitement about the return of Thor and his warrior friends. Their burning desire to listen to yet another glory story about victory and battle fueled them on. Loki could hear their shrill laughter and the praise from the hallway as he was about to make an entrance. It was Thor’s voice, which stopped him.

“Oh, you know how that works: some do tricks, others fight battles.”

There was mockery and ease in Thor’s amused voice and the joy and pride of a warrior, who was well used to claim the recognition for his achievements. To Loki these words felt like yet another stab, which was causing his heart to wrench in pain and anger. It wasn’t the first time for his brother to deny the importance of the part Loki had played in battle. It had been his magic which had given Thor and the Warrior Three the needed barrier of protection from the enemy to make their attack against the opponents work without getting hurt during battle.

With his own feeling of pride regarding the new magic trick and its success Loki’s mood had been in lighter spirit than usual and against his aversion of taking part in feasts he had had decided to take part in the one held that evening. It proved that once again all it needed was another sting coming from his own brother to ruin his mood.

Loki hoped that no one had noticed his appearance as he quickly slid to the side to hide between two colons.

He felt anger and sadness burn inside of him over the words, which he had overheard without the intent to. The combination of these two feelings was a dangerous mix for it turned into desperation if only it lingered long enough within the heart of a person – and the storms within Loki had had too much time to build up during the last years of constantly feelings of rejection and mockery put upon him. The despair he felt wanted to lure him into giving in to his hate of situations like these and the people who he blamed for them. The young Trickster tried to think about a way of teaching Thor and his audience respect. Nothing fancy. All he wanted was to scare them a little. However, it was hard to come up with a decent thought while tears were burning in one’s eyes and one’s heart was aching.

It was no other than Fandral, the Dashing, who made Loki snap out of his thoughts. He had just excused himself from the celebrating crowd for a moment to take care of his personal business as he caught Loki in his hiding spot. Sure, Loki could trick some people and hide well, but Fandral was an experienced Warrior and he had seen enough of Loki’s games and disguises to fall for a quick attempt of getting out of line.

“I see you are trying to yet again avoid another feast,” he spoke up to Loki with a teasing voice as he was nearing in on him.

Damn Fandral for finding him in a condition like this!

Loki quickly tried to blink away the burning tears as the warrior stepped closer. He bowed and gave Loki a charming smile. “Will you allow me to guide you wherever you plan to leave to?” Fandral’s voice still held a little tone of mockery, but it was also gentle and respectful. It was a mixture only a few men could pull off without being annoying and Loki sighed. “If you must,” he agreed. His acceptance of the offer made Fandral smile and he wrapped his arm around Loki’s lower back way too easy-going for the fact that he was talking to a prince. “I’d like to show you something, Loki.” Since there was no protest coming from the young prince, Fandral took the lead and guided Loki closer to the entrance of the patio farthest away from the celebrating people. Loki was everything but surprised for the warrior to seek a moment of peace for them to share without witnesses.

It was a cold winter’s day and snow had befallen the Realm of The Gods. On contrary to Jotunheim there still was a golden glow above the layers of snow which were covering the land. Loki adored the scenery of winter in Asgard. It made Asgard’s beauty look even brighter and, in a way, also more peaceful.

Once they had stepped out of the warm hallway Fandral took the fur he was wearing off his shoulders to place it around Loki’s. It wasn’t like Loki would feel cold but Fandral was a gentleman regarding things like these and he also felt responsible for the wellbeing of the princes when he was hanging out with them. He felt especially protective of the younger prince. Loki knew about that and he didn’t protest but rather accepted the act of kindness. Fandral gently pulled on Loki’s shoulders to make him turn around and face him. He then cupped the prince’s cheeks with his warm hands and gently wiped the barely visible trace of tears from Loki’s eyes with his thumbs.

“What has caused these tears, my dear?” Fandral asked gentle-voiced and looked directly at Loki while he was waiting for an answer. He knew the young prince. He knew that he hated feasts like the one celebrated tonight but a brief glance at Loki’s well-chosen attire had proved that the Trickster indeed had planned on attending the celebration anyway. While it was common for Loki to hide whenever he felt like it, it was uncommon to do it in a not very thought through way like in which Fandral had found him.

Loki gave a little sigh as he pondered about what to say. He didn’t want to reject Fandral, but he also wasn’t very fond of portraying himself as vulnerable.

“You stink,” was the answer of choice he came up with and Fandral chuckled. “I’ve had some mead as you would well expect me to during a celebration like this,” the blonde man replied kind of unimpressed, yet with a tone of affection. “If you will excuse me for a moment, I will get you a fair share of it, too. It tastes wonderful tonight. It is an exceptionally fine serving of your father’s distillery.” Loki considered the offer for a moment and nodded his agreement a few seconds later. Fandral gave him a bright smile. “I’ll be right back, my prince.” Again, he bowed before he left both – the patio and Loki.

Upon Fandral’s return his arms were packed with furs, blankets and a basket. He gave Loki yet another bright smile. “If you would follow me, my dear.” He took the lead and Loki did follow as Fandral was searching for a quiet corner, well hidden among some sculptures, flowerpots and snowed in bushes. On a bench which was carved into marvel walls he created a warm nest for them and gave Loki a smile as he reached out his hand to offer it to the Trickster. Loki accepted the invitation and let Fandral guide him to take a seat on the furs. The warrior took his seat close to Loki and wrapped them up in the blankets and furs before he pulled a candle holder from the basket. He attached a fitting candle. Loki noticed very well that it was one of the candle holders from the ceremonial hall. He grinned and so did Fandral.

“I’ll return it later,” he promised, and Loki chuckled. “I don’t mind you stealing from my father.” “I would never steal from anyone,” Fandral emphasized and Loki chuckled. “I know. But you would borrow a candle holder if you would want to impress your date.” “If that means that you are willing to be my date for tonight, I will have to agree.” Fandral smirked and it was the kind of behavior which made Loki’s spirit rise again.

“You are way too desperate for my attention, dear Fandral,” it was Loki’s voice which held a mocking tone but also a hint of affection by then. He used his magic to light the candle and it was enough of an answer for both.

With a smile on his lips Fandral poured them some mead from one of the bottles. “Not only a candle holder but also mead and festive cups,” Loki noticed seemingly amused. “You deserve the best, my dear.” Fandral laughed and Loki watched him with a gaze, which was brighter than he would want to admit. They clanged glasses and Fandral brought his lips close to Loki’s ear to whisper right into it: “You are not less of a prince than your brother, Loki.”

Fandral had quite a good guess on what had made Loki feel upset earlier on and he disliked seeing the young prince troubled so all he wanted to do was to help him get back to a more cheerful spirit.

“You better tell Thor and my father,” Loki replied bitter-voiced. “Thor can be mean and selfish if he brags about his achievements in battle, and your father will see how wonderful his youngest son truly is,” Fandral replied and added a hesitant “eventually” after he had noticed Loki skeptically raising his eyebrow. Loki pressed his lips together for a moment. He then raised his cup and had a sip from the mead, closing his eyes as the wonderful warmth and sweetness spread in his mouth and his throat.

Fandral kept on watching the young prince. He knew a troubled and pained expression if he saw one and even more one of a young man who tried to drown his worries in alcohol.

“You know that Thor’d rip your head off your well-defined shoulders if he’d figure out how much you’re trying to get into my pants,” Loki spoke up eventually. The usage of contractions usually indicated that Loki was beginning to either be drunk or be in too much inner turmoil to still care for a more formal usage of language.

“I rely on my trust in you and the idea that you probably won’t give away our secret after all we’ve been through,” Fandral whispered into Loki’s ear as he started to nibble on the prince’s earlobe.

“I don’t know who is playing with whom any longer,” Loki admitted after he had another sip from the delicious mead.

“I can assure you, that I will never play with you, my prince. It was in all honesty when I told you I’d wait until you have made up your mind about how far you want to go with me.”

Loki felt how gently Fandral was playing with his hair. The warrior let his digits cart through the hair tips on Loki’s neck and did not hesitate to caress as much of his skin as he could reach. He noticed how his prince leant into the touch with the slightest of movements. It had been like that for a while: both sharing intimate gestures, which often resulted in Fandral trying to cheer Loki up. He held honest feelings for the young prince, and he was sure that Loki too had feelings for him. It seemed a lot harder for Loki to admit to them, but Fandral could live with that. If the warrior could be close to Loki, he did not care about hiding what they shared from the rest of the world.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who understands me, Fan,” Loki sighed. Fandral noticed the usage of the nickname Loki accentuated as sweetly as no women he had ever bedded. He loved it when Loki relaxed enough to turn into his softer and more open self.

“It is not easy to understand the complexity of your mind, my dear, but I sure notice when you’re not feeling well.” “How? How is it you notice when no one else does?” “Because you look beautiful even when you’re sad and I cannot take my eyes off you.”

Fandral’s words reached Loki’s heart and his lips turned into a little smile. “You really think that”, Loki replied. He had understood that much during all the time they had shared together. “Yes, I do. And I always will think that. You are most beautiful, my prince.”

“Will you ever stop courting me?”

A soft laughter from Fandral was the reply to Loki’s question and he held him a little tighter. “No. Unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Well, in this case, my prince, I will never get tired of telling you that you mean the world to me.”

“Will you tell me about this when I forget?”

“You will hear it as often as you need to.”

Loki watched how fresh snow started to dance from the sky. He wondered whether his soul would ever come to find peace. Meanwhile Fandral wondered about his beloved prince. He was concerned about him. Loki’s loneliness seemed so big and consuming that he could only hope that the young prince would find a way out of his misery someday. Fandral was willing to help as much as he could but it was not the first time, they shared a moment like this, and he had understood that a lot of what troubled Loki came from within the prince himself. Fandral could not take away Loki’s pain but he might as well help to soothe it.

After a while of just sitting together without a word spoken, it eventually was Loki who found his voice first.

“If I’d ask you to sleep with me tonight, would you?”

Fandral took a deep breath at that question. He had waited for bedding Loki for so long that naturally he wanted to push forward. However, he also knew about the meaning this question had for Loki.

“I would. If that is what you genuinely want. It is your first time after all and the alcohol…”

Fandral could not finish his sentence for Loki put his fingertip over his lips and watched him so intensely that he felt like his stomach would jump up and down.

“I want someone to make me feel like I matter,” Loki tried to explain. He seemed somewhat embarrassed as he spoke. Fandral started to smile and he gently grabbed Loki’s wrist to take his fingertip of his lips. He held Loki’s hand and placed a tender kiss on its back.

“I will prove how much you matter to me, my prince, and I’ll make sure you’ll never forget about it.”

 ***