#storiesofwildfire

We must go. We must find Thor.

He couldn’t. This was just- too much. Things were happening so fast. How long had it been since the disastrous not-coronation and Thor’s plan to sneak into Jotunheim to confront Laufey? Two days? Three? He almost couldn’t keep track anymore. Now Thor was banished, Odin in his comalike Sleep, and Loki was on the throne and holding it in an iron grip. And his friends...

His friends were being idiots was what they were. 

Listening to them, he could hardly believe it. Hogun and Sif were spinning each other up, insisting that Loki was behind the Jotuns’ attempt on the Vault, that it was Loki who had convinced Thor to go to Jotunheim. Except... 

Loki had pointed out something Fandral had been observing with increasing alarm over the last several decades. Thor was restless, arrogant, aggressive, and self-centered. Thor... would be a horrible king. Oh, perhaps he’d be a fine war leader, but he was no administrator, no peacekeeper. He couldn’t even keep a leash on his temper long enough to walk out of the remains of the Jotun palace when Laufey had graciously- and wisely- permitted them to leave without coming to harm. Loki’s stunt of letting a pair of Jotun warriors into the Vault, while perhaps ill-considered, certainly illustrated the exact flaws Fandral had seen in the Heir. 

Loki had also had a point that he could not make his first act as King be something that undid the Allfather’s final act, particularly when he was only standing in Odin’s stead on a temporary basis. There might be serious concerns over whether Odin would wake again, but until it was confirmed he wouldn’t, Loki was only temporarily Asgard’s King. Immediately rescinding the banishment on Thor, after less than two days, was a politically stupid move. It would certainly show favoritism on Loki’s part at least, and frankly, it would call his judgment into question. 

Fandral privately thought that while banishment was perhaps a bit harsh of a punishment, Thor absolutely needed to face some consequences for his hotheadedness and complete lack of awareness. And he wasn’t just thinking that because Thor’s idiocy had nearly gotten him killed.

He shuddered and rubbed his shoulder. While the healers had done damn good work and gotten him back in fighting shape practically overnight, the wound still ached a little, and there would be a nasty scar on both the front and the back. He’d been lucky. He’d been damned lucky. An inch or two lower, and that icicle would have shredded his aorta and he would have bled out before his friends could pry him off the icy spear. And if they’d been any slower in getting home, he might have died anyway.

And who do I have to thank for that?

Loki. Loki, who’d done everything in his power to persuade them not to go. Loki, who’d plied that clever silver tongue of his to keep Thor in check and appease the angry Jotun king. Loki, who had not only slain the Jotun warrior who’d nearly killed Fandral, but had seen how badly he’d been wounded and insisted that they leave immediately. 

I owe him my life.

His friends’ increasing restlessness, their outrage and resentment at finding Loki on the throne and unwilling to call back his brother, didn’t sit well with him. And then they’d been talking treason, for no good reason that Fandral could see. 

He’d been unable to talk sense into them. They’d convinced Volstagg to go along with this absurd plan of theirs, to sneak their way onto Midgard and find Thor. Fandral had pretended to agree, then slipped away when they separated to make preparations. The moment he was alone, without even a servant in sight, he reached for the trickle of magic he called his own- magic Loki taught me to use- and wove hair-fine threads of it into a gossamer web of a spell. A delicate creation, it would help keep them from thinking about him, or noticing his absence- at least at fist. If they started thinking too hard about him, started really getting uneasy about why he hadn’t shown up yet, the delicate spell would break. All it would do would delay the moment when they noticed he wasn’t with them and start wondering why he wasn’t there. It would just buy him a little time.

That was all he was going to need. 

His subtle dissuasion in place, he closed his eyes and focused on another aspect of his magic. This was a skill he was much better at using, a quirk of his power that let him know where someone he knew was. It wasn’t perfect- he had a lot of trouble sensing where someone was at a real distance, and if they were offworld, well, pretty much the only reliable sense he got from it was whether or not they were still alive, and it always took several minutes to adapt to being on a new realm- but he knew Loki was on Asgard and was most likely somewhere in Gladsheim, or the palace itself.

He followed the prodding of that inner sense down to the stables- the royal stables, not the ones used for mounts for the guard or nobles. There was Loki, actually in the huge box stall reserved for Odin’s warhorse, the eight-legged stallion named Sleipnir, apparently talking to the great creature. Sleipnir was giving every indication of actually listening to the young king.

There were no guards in sight, which he was grateful for. He approached, clearing his throat quietly before dropping to one knee, his fist over his heart. 

Some could call her a Goddess of fire, controlling the element that her hair resembled so closely.  Others would call her a being of mischief and trickery.  A few knew her as a protector of the hearth and home, loving to care for those close to her.  

Loki was never one term.  Loki was as faceted as a diamond, or as layered as an opal, showing a new color to the world with a small turn of the hand.  

But no matter the story, Loki was always more than the words that made it to the page.

Lady Loki Aesthetic Happy Birthday, Loki!

stolen from: @storiesofwildfire tagging: @algrimthestrong @theperditorian @thewonderingsorceress @winter-soldier-asset-bucky @shield-of-shame @prevariicator @spekiasynja @forgedasset and everyone else

Mainverse Lise’s tea:

Vuhs’s tea:

Medieval/ Royalty/ Dragon Age/ Wheel of Time Lise:

          chασѕ cαmє frσm αn αncíєnt wσrd           thαt mєαnt "вírthєd frσm thє vσíd."           αnd ít wαѕ αвσut thαt whích íѕ pσѕѕíвlє,                                                     nσt αвσut díѕσrdєr.

( ✗ )

     (★) ─    Well, this is uncomfortable… Steve couldn’t help but shift his weight from one leg to the other while doing his best not to look troubled – he was sure he was failing. The only thing going through his mind: do I tell her I’m seeing her father brother? The answer was a resounding, NO!    “Uh… I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s possible, ma’am.” Aw, crap! “I just mean… the it being mine bit, not the you being… I mean… You look great… if you are. Congratulations!”

( @storiesofwildfire )

The thought of marriage had never been something that crossed Torin’s mind.  There was always too great of a risk to his life, or those of the lives he became close to.  He had kept the world at arm’s length for so long, but it was Loki that had slipped through the cracks in his façade, reaching his heart.  Torin could not deny the love they shared.  He could not deny how much he wanted to spend the rest of his long life with Loki by his side.

It was funny, in a way, how nervous Torin became at the prospect of proposing to Loki.  He wasn’t worried about the future, or the act of asking the question.  He had a momentary fear that he would not be able to make it as perfect as Loki deserved; or in some crazy stroke of fate, that Loki would say no.

Saoirse would be the one to talk him down from that nervous filled spiral, reminding him how happy he and Loki made each other.  She helped him pick out a ring, one perfect for Loki.  Torin had never been one for flashing jewelry, always preferring symbolism over sparkles.  He balanced that desire of his with his knowledge of Loki’s taste in fashion.  He settled on a gold band, with diamonds around a blue-green stone.  Loki deserved more than a basic engagement ring, and the one Torin chose a ring he could see Loki wearing no matter the form.  

Of course, Torin did not cook dinner.  While he had picked up a few things from watching Loki prepare meals, Torin was not about to risk burning down their flat on the day he wanted to be so special. Instead, he ordered out from one of their favorite take away places, setting up the dinner out on the balcony. Candles were lit, and music was on, playing softly in the background – one of the playlists Torin had made of songs Loki loved.

Leiella had always lived with her head in a book, vanishing into the words to escape her life.  She had everything she could have ever wanted material wise, but when it came to the support of her parents, Lei was lacking in that department.  Thankfully, she had her grandmother.  She had that support through her life, even after going to New York for college.

In New York, Leiella would come to see the monsters of the world.  Those that would twist the goodness within her, but it would be another kind of monster that saved her.  Torin had found her when she was at her lowest point, near death.  He had always thought himself a monster, but it would be Leiella that would help him to see otherwise.  In time, she would learn the truth about him, something he feared ever coming to light, but Lei stayed by Torin’s side.

A human and a vampire – together in friendship, and later, love.

At one of Leiella’s shows for her photography, about a year or so after her graduation with her masters, she and Torin would meet two others – Loki and Fandral.  Neither of them, at first, had an idea about the truth behind Loki and Fandral, but in time, they would come to understand.  Lei would find connection with Fandral through talk of gardening, and with Loki, art.  Torin and Loki discussed music, often, while with Fandral, Torin would always get into mischief.  Those two loved making Loki and Leiella blush.  It was their favorite game, if you asked them.  

There connections would run deeper, but it would take time for those connections to come to light.  The four of them would become closer.  That was never a doubt, in their eyes, but they knew it would take work.

A human, a vampire, a God, and an Asgardian – what’s the worst that could happen?