#ratinge

It begins in a prison with a monster driven to madness. It ends in much the same way.

Note: (In honour of the impending release of the Loki miniseries and my sceptical optimism for it, I'm highlighting a few canon-adjacent Loki works that can pass the time between new episodes or, if you're like me, distract from new content long enough to miss the first wave of inevitable Discourse.) It's evident miraellie loves the character and the ancient myth of Sigyn by the care they've taken to depict her across multiple works and universes. The two installments of Discrete are particularly heartfelt and more than a little bit sentimental. In a surprisingly accurrate prediction of The Dark World, Descrete begins by examining Loki's trauma through his limited point of view, and its sequel Escape the Day pivots to examine Sigyn's determination to overcome her own. Between their uncertainty and distress we are treated to scenes of tendernesss and budding fidelity without slipping so far into fantasy as to betray the grief that forever defines Sigyn's legend.

- Author's Tumblr (Inactive) | @victorybringer - - Series on AO3 | Author's Page on FF.net -

He sees her when he returns to Asgard.

It’s only a few fleeting moments as Thor and some guards take him to his dungeon cell but she’s there, she truly is, standing by a window, her black hair pulled away from her face, so different from how he’d seen it before where it was long and free for him to run his fingers through and she’s so close all he’d have to do is break away from his brother and the guards and reach for her hand, and her name is on the tip of his tongue but the muzzle cuts into his skin as he tries to open his mouth to speak, to whisper her name, to get her to just look at him--

But she doesn’t because her gaze is drawn towards an Einherji who takes up all her attention and he’s slowly, clumsily brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and she shifts away from him, doing it herself and saying something Loki can’t hear and he’ll kill this damn Einherji, how dare he, how dare he touch her like that--

Her focus shifts and finds his gaze and the world stops because she's looking at him and every single vision the Tesseract showed him comes back to him, both of them by the fire and under the night sky and watching two boys laughing as they run through a field of flowers while she holds his hand and leans up to kiss him and--

As a warrior, you are no stranger to battle and blood. It is all you are made for, and all you want to be. Foreign to the realm of Asgard, your goal upon arrival was to conquer your enemies. You did not come to meet a prince, especially one as narcissistic and duplicitous as Loki Odinson. You did not ask for anything that came thereafter. Yet here you are.

Note: (In honour of the impending release of the Loki miniseries and my sceptical optimism for it, I'm highlighting a few canon-adjacent Loki works that can pass the time between new episodes or, if you're like me, distract from new content long enough to miss the first wave of inevitable Discourse.) ODE feels close to an original science fiction work without losing familiar Marvel aspects. WanderingWorldWarrior utilises the second person point of view throughout the trilogy and to great effect; Softer Emotions begins by introducing tension among the realms, hostility among Odin's family, and then drops you into a battlefield to fight for your life. Each of the installments uses its 100k words to develop characters and conflicts so fully that consequences truly feel irreversible. This is handled beautifully in ODE's second and third entries, which parallel MCU events with original plots which both conclude with poignant ramifications.

- Author's Tumblr | @wanderingworldwarrior -  - Series on AO3 -

Odin Allfather is a terror to behold in his rage. His council flinches before him, the messenger that delivered the terrible news ducking his head and backing away respectfully so as not to catch the god’s unintended wrath.

“This slight shall not be ignored,” Odin growls, rising from his grand chair and almost upsetting the table in the process.

Static crackles audibly in the air, tensions rising with the physical sensation tingling on their skin.

“We should attempt to reason with them,” one of the council men pipes up quickly.

It is well known that whoever’s advice the king takes becomes heralded as a hero among the nobles of Asgard.

“No,” another man butts in, frowning. “We should use this against the barbarians. Perhaps one of the Ordinat can be leveraged to give us information.”

“That’s absurd!” a third says, rolling his eyes. “If the organization has revoked their deal with us, they are our enemies now!”

Odin’s eldest, Prince Thor Odinson, rises from the table with a grim scowl on his face. “Send me, Father. My warriors and I can make this right.”

A dark chuckle sounds from the other side of the table. The men of the council shudder in their tunics, shooting unfavorable glances at the younger prince.

“You find this statement humorous, brother?” Thor asks while Odin glowers at the table top with his one good eye.

Loki Odinson laughs again, finally gracing his brother with a cold, green stare. “You think your blundering band of boars can do anything to help this? There are situations that can't be settled with blood, you know.”.

Stjarnavetr has been exiled from her home realm of Vanaheim and has come to Asgard by the mercy of Odin Allfather and Queen Frigga. She is entrusted by Queen Frigga to further instruct the youngest prince, Loki, in seidr, the magic of the Vanir. Stjarnavetr tries her best to deal successfully with the arrogant and impetuous prince of Asgard, while Loki tries to coax from his new seidr tutor the dark secret of why she was exiled from Vanaheim. In the process, the two come to find solace in each other’s company and Stjarnavetr must confront her feelings about Loki and the horrors of her past.

Note: (In honour of the impending release of the Loki miniseries and my sceptical optimism for it, I'm highlighting a few canon-adjacent Loki works that can pass the time between new episodes or, if you're like me, distract from new content long enough to miss the first wave of inevitable Discourse.) I think I happened upon Stjarna's 11 installments as I was poking around in other people’s AO3 bookmarks in May 2020, looking for something to occupy the nebulous quarantine days. I didn’t even notice that its publishing run spanned almost five years until I had reached the handful of One Shots that separate the two major parts. Comprising a word count around 622k, Renlem has made the Stjarnavetr series an immmersive experience that hits hard on darker facets of Aesir noble society. Fingers crossed they’ll be able to finish Part 2 soon.

- Masterpost on Author's Tumblr | @renlem - - Series on AO3 -

I had come to Asgard when the youngest prince was not yet five hundred years old, but in appearance a grown man already. I might never have made acquaintance with him had it not been for Frigga, Odin Allfather’s wife and queen. She entrusted him to me with a special task in mind when I had come as an exile from my home of Vanaheim.

I had been brought before her during my third week in Asgard as her newest handmaiden. I still remember it so very well; we had been in her receiving chamber and she had bade me rise after I had knelt before her. She smiled at me and I thought how beautiful she was, how regal.

She gestured towards her fireplace. Two chairs were set before it with an intricately carved table between. There were a few books lying there, along with a tray and some cups that a servant had brought earlier. She sat in one of the cushioned chairs and motioned for me to sit as well.

I gingerly sat down, dreading any pain that I might feel. I had been in much pain as of late, but thankfully I could move about now without much trouble. Once I was comfortable, she offered me some wine, which I politely took.

“I am most pleased you are here,” she said kindly.

“As am I,” I replied, lifting the cup to my mouth to take a sip of wine. It was by her and Odin Allfather’s mercy—and pity—that I had been allowed to come here.

“Are you healing well, Stjarnavetr?” she asked, inclining her head towards me.

“Yes. Eir assures me that I will be fully healed within the week, though there will always be… scarring. But she has been able to nearly restore me. Asgard’s healers are truly miraculous, Your Majesty.”

Queen Frigga smiled. “I am very glad. You were in quite a state when you came.”

A virgin priestess is given as a 'sacrifice' to Odin as part of a centuries long Asgardian tradition.

Note: (In honour of the impending release of the Loki miniseries and my sceptical optimism for it, I'm highlighting a few canon-adjacent Loki works that can pass the time between new episodes or, if you're like me, distract from new content long enough to miss the first wave of inevitable Discourse.) It's true that my taste favours reserved, implicit descriptions, but it can't be said that I don't enjoy a bit of PWP. Even better is when an author develops an interesting context in which to frame the scene, especially when regarding virginity. But tartanroyaltea goes above and beyond with 12k words that establish the setting, cultural circumstances, and character motivations - all within MCU canon. And in my own opinion, any work that avoids the 'obvious' ending point is always a pleasant surprise.

- Author's Tumblr (Inactive) | @tartanroyaltea | View on THF -

Every fifty years the Sacred Order of Aurvandil would sacrifice a young, pure priestess to each of the male Aesir in Asgard. It was an ancient tradition, one which had endured through the reigns of countless Kings of Asgard from time immemorial, right up to the present Odin Allfather. Many of the sisters of the Order had been certain that the tradition would be cancelled, or at the very least postponed until the next favourable star cycle, in light of the deaths of the beloved Queen Frigga, and the marginally less beloved, Prince Loki.

Yet, no messengers had come from the palace to stop the ritual. It would occur in the prosperous fiftieth year, just as it always had. The Temple was alight with activity in the days leading up to the ritual, every Sister no matter how low or high, was engaged in preparing for this momentous occasion. Excitement bubbled among the Sisters, tinged with the sharpness of quiet fear in the young virgins who were to be ‘sacrificed’. The virgin priestesses did not need to fear death, murdering one of the Aurvandilan sisters had been outlawed by Odin at the start of his reign, millennia ago. Before Odin’s kindness, many of the virgin sacrifices returned to the Order at dawn- in shrouds. Apart from killing their sacrifices, there were no rules to restrict what the Aesir could do with their sacrifices during the twelve hours between dusk and dawn; the possibilities were enough to make any girl tremble.

If you look, really look. If you close your mouth and open your heart and look You'll see. That just like in the darkest of nights In the darkest of hearts. You can still see starlight.

Note: (In honour of the impending release of the Loki miniseries and my sceptical optimism for it, I'm highlighting a few canon-adjacent Loki works that can pass the time between new episodes or, if you're like me, distract from new content long enough to miss the first wave of inevitable Discourse.) Without writing an essay in the description of this post, it has to be said: in the TH fandom, as in society at large, we have yet to dismantle our whtie supremacy and racism. It shows up as white fans reflexively defending media and dismissing critical analysis by people of colour; it shows up as patronising and judgmental comments towards authors and fans of colour for their "incorrect" interpretations; it shows up as insidious anti-Blackness and hostility towards Zawe Ashton. The list goes on. Sidrisa created a culture, mythos, and political background to contrast Asgard's own in Power and Magic, and sadly there's no trace of them in the Loki fandom found after 2018. I can hope their deparure wasn't due to outright harrassment but I've no way of knowing. I do know that Black Marvel fans contiuously speak out regarding the inhospitable environments in predominanly white fandoms. We as online fans may not be able to shift major systems of oppression or influence film productions, but it's well within our ability to make our online spaces less hostile. We, as white fans, need to develop a nuanced understanding of white supremacy, and we must engage in difficult conversations when we see racism in whatever form displayed in our communities.

- Read on Author's Tumblr (Inactive) | Series on AO3 -

The princes come with their exalted Father arriving amidst a hail of pomp and pageantry all parties would rather forgo.

This is war, where men die, their blood purchasing land and peace until it is time for more men and more blood to balance the ledger.

But your mother adheres to the old rules of hearth and hospitality. The Lords of Asgard must be given their due despite the grim business precipitating their arrival.

She summons you, making a sour face at your choice of dress.

“Katkat,” She calls you, her voice slipping into the comforts of your land’s mother tongue. Its closest approximation in the common language places the word on the paternal side of “beloved”. Inflect the vowel sounds - 'kotkot'- and you take it from paternal to romantic.

But there's nothing paternal or affectionate in her face or voice, both thunderous as the grey clouds that herald the arrival of the Lords Odin, Thor, and Loki.

“Katkat, why are you dressed thus? Did you forget our royal company?”

“I did not, manmae.” Mama you call her, you call her, your voice also lacking the warmth such an informal address implies. “I have dressed appropriate to our situation.”

You wear your leathers. Black and austere, lacking the intricate grooved patterns your people are known across the realm for. Your pastures breed the horses Odin Allfather’s soldiers ride to war upon. Your tanners cure and cut the leather that braid their whips and saddles. Your furs fill Frigga Allmother’s wardrobe and the treasure chests of many a noble lady. The labors of your people, while not extraordinarily luxurious, grant a small measure of wealth and with it with it autonomy that your family has held stewardship over for ageless generations of which you are the sole heir.