The Course Of True Love
Relationship: Loki Odinson x Original Female Character
Summary: Loki Odinson never expected to see his mother hurrying down a hall with a smart-mouthed, soot-covered figure who was supposedly the princess of Vanaheim. He never expected her to stay more than a week, much less an entire century, and he surely did not expect their initial animosity to morph into the fluttering, tickling feeling he got in his stomach every time she was near.
Word Count: 3.8k
A/N: This story is almost complete, so updates will be weekly. Feel free to ask to be added to taglist.
Warnings: Smut later on (will be marked), 18+, loss of virginity, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cursing, inappropriate language
Masterlist
CHAPTER 1
The day Loki met Sigrid Ivansdottir, he was almost strangled to death by Lady Sif.
Looking back, he blamed Thor for the entire incident. The younger prince had been in the library reading up on projection casting in preparation for his lessons. He was tucked away in his usual corner, back flat on the floor and feet rested on the chair in front of him. The heavy book was lifted overhead whilst the pages turned with every flick of his index finger.
It was quite a boring book, he had to admit, spending too much time explaining that there was a difference between projections and illusions rather than on the differentiation itself. Yet he plundered on, knowing his tutor loved to test him on the most overlooked details. Loki was just a quarter way in when his brother came calling.
“Brother!” Loki cursed, bringing the book closer to his chest. Thor had previously come of age to openly partake in the wonders of alcohol and missed no chance to get his hands on a spirit. The unbridled loudness of his voice let Loki know that that was exactly what he had been doing that night.
“Loki?” Heavy footsteps sounded through the room as Thor began walking up and down the aisles. For just a moment, he considered casting an illusion to hide himself from his brother. A sober Thor was a lot to handle, a tipsy even more so, and a drunk Thor was just downright annoying. But Loki knew Thor would not stop looking for him, and a little inebriation did not diminish his love for his brother, so he revealed his presence with a few simple words.
“I’m here,” he said. Thor’s face appeared around a bookshelf that held volumes on astrology. Puberty had turned his jawline square, peppering it with the beginnings of a golden beard. Gone was his childhood chubbiness. In its place sat well-defined muscles, and the women of the court took a particular interest in that aspect. It was as though Thor had snapped his fingers and suddenly, he had a bevy of ladies following him wherever he went. Loki, with his face still smooth and limbs lanky, just watched from afar.
“You’re drunk, brother,” said Loki. “Mother would not be pleased.”
Thor grinned wide, showing his row of pearly teeth. “But mother is not here! She left a while ago in such a rush. Barely even noticed me lurking about.”
While Thor had been speaking, Loki had moved to place the book back on the shelf. He lifted a brow, now finished with his task, and turned to face his brother. “Where did she go?”
“I do not know.” Thor shrugged. “But come! You must join us!”
Loki hesitated. It had been a while since Thor had requested his company, much less sought him out to do so. Their social paths had diverged a long time ago, with him preferring academia and seidr whereas Thor was all about the figuring and weaponry. They still saw each other on the daily , and attended events together as the princess were wont to do, however there was no denying that their relationship was no longer the same.
He must have been lost in his head for too long, Loki realized, since Thor’s face began to drop at his lack of an answer. “D-do you not want to spend time with me? I know I have been entertaining the attentions of others as of late, but I truly did not mean to upset you.”
“Thor’s, it’s –”
“I see how taken you are with your studies, and I know you do not like to be disturbed so I stay out of your way until I see you. Except I do not see you, and if I do, it’s always with a book in hand.” Now Loki just felt terrible. If Thor was guilty of spending more time with others, he was also at fault for getting lost in his old world. He could not count the number of times his mother had to send a page to the library to call him to dinner, or to remind him to get ready for an upcoming event.
“Alright,” he relented, “I’ll come, but for only a little while.”
Thor beamed. “Excellent!” A large hand descended on his own, circling his entire wrist, then the older boy was pulling him down the hall and out into the night. Two people were already seated around the large, golden brazier when they arrived. Thor called out to them in excitement. “My friends! I have returned!”
“And I,” said Fandral, with a sly wink in Loki’s direction, “have ale. My father won’t even know it’s gone.” Thor released his hand to take a swig from the glass bottle. He turned and offered it to Loki, who declined. His inclination towards cleanliness prevented him from sharing utensils with anyone. Loki would not even sip from the same teacup as his mother and she was the most hygienic person he knew.
“I’m surprised Thor was able to pull you away from your hiding place. Aren’t you usually buried beneath a pile of books at this hour?” Loki turned his head to where the young Lady Sif sat. She was cloaked in a thick blanket to buffer the wind, dark eyes regarding him without any amusement.
They were somewhat friends, he guessed. The girl was quite taken with his brother and had no real reason to dislike him. Trust, however, was another thing entirely. And Sif did not trust Loki. “And should you not be asleep in your own bed? Your mother would have a fit if she caught word of you stealing away in the night with three young men.”
Sif did not answer. Instead, her attention had drifted to Thor. An uncharacteristic softness made its way into her eyes as she watched the older boy begin a mock fight with Fandral. They were both intoxicated by now but managed to maintain enough sobriety so as not to hurt the other. Loki watched as Fandral struck his foot out at Thor, catching the tip of Thor’s flask with his toes. With a loud gasp, Thor held the silver vessel to his chest and began stroking it.
Maybe it was the way Sif giggled aloud, the obvious care for his brother evident in the swell of her cheeks. It could also have been the fact that Thor had tracked him down, forced him to come out and then all but sat him down to watch him have fun. Whatever it was, it made Loki a bit frustrated, and when he was frustrated, mischief was sure to follow. “Are you ever going to make a move or are we all destined to watch your pining whenever he’s around?”
Sif paused mid laugh and turned to look at Loki. She flipped that long golden hair that she was so proud of over her shoulder—an attempt at nonchalance—and fixed him with a glare. “I know not what you speak of.”
“I speak of your open affections for my brother,” Loki replied. “Pray tell that you will disclose this information to him soon. It’s pathetic watching this going on.”
“Pathetic?” Sif raised her eyebrows. Loki resisted the urge to grin. It was so easy to get her riled up. “What’s pathetic is you and your ill attempt at hiding your ownfeelings. If you’re going to make fun of me, at least make sure the topic isn’t one that makes you a hypocrite.”
For just a moment, Loki froze. Was it possible that the golden-haired beauty had figured out his long-resolved, childhood crush on her? It was a fleeting thing, his feelings for her, brought on by her being his brother’s first female friend. Sif was always kind to him when they were children and he soon found himself developing a more than platonic liking to the older girl. Of course, that had soon passed when he discerned her true taste in the opposite sex. “W-what?”
“Fjor.” Loki’s eyes widened. “Lord Oddvar’s son? I saw how flustered you got when he offered to train with you last week. Never have I seen you trip over your words so.” Sif paused to give him a smug smile. “Looks like the only thing you’ll be known for tongue wise is lying.”
“And you,” Loki grit out, hands curled into fists, “will be known as the lady who almost married the elder prince of Asgard. But if you’re a good girl I’m sure brother dearest may keep you around as his whore—”
Sif pounced; outstretched arms aimed at his throat. She knocked him over with ease and began grabbing for his neck. Loki brought his arms up in a feeble attempt to fend her off. “You worm! Why must you be so awful!”
“Sif? Loki?” Thor’s confused voice cut through the night. “What happened?”
“She attacked me!” Loki exclaimed, then to Sif, “Get off of me!” Sif had succeeded in reaching his throat, and now her hands were wrapped around it. She squeezed a bit, making Loki scratch at her hands. “S-stop!” he choked out.
“Sif!” She was off him in a second courtesy Fandral. He seized the girl by the waist and pulled her to the side, still fighting all the way to the ground. He looked at her as though she had lost her mind. “What were you thinking? You cannot kill a prince of Asgard!”
“Brother?” A concerned Thor materialized in front of him. His eyebrows were creased with worry as he looked Loki over for injury. “Are you alright? What happened?”
“Nothing,” he coughed. Sif was tiny but she was strong, and his windpipe now felt the brunt of that strength. “Ask her.” His narrowed glance was met with a death stare. There was no way Sif would recount the events of their squabble for fear of outing her own feelings.
Thor craned his neck to the girl. “Sif?”
“It’s like he said,” she spat. “Nothing.”
Loki sensed his time with the group had drawn to a close. He rose to his feet, dusting his jacket off as he did so. “Brother, this has been fun. Do remember not to invite me next time.”
He retreated before Thor could stop him—though the older boy did call for his return. Thoughts of portals and casting came to mind as he made his way down the well-trodden route to his chambers. Had he been able to produce more than a puff of green gas, he would have already escaped to his room. However, his inability to produce a proper getaway proved fruitful that night, for if he had not walked past the library, he would not have seen his mother scurry around the corner with a hooded figure around his height.
Loki quirked a brow. Thor had told him his mother was not even here. In fact, he had said their mother had left in a rush. So, what was she now doing here, hurrying around the place like a common thief rather than its beloved queen?
While his portal making skills were next to none, Loki had a firm grasp on cloaking. It was rather simple once he understood the mechanism. All he had to do was concentrate. He visualized his position in the hallway and thought of every cell in his body, down to the organelles and jelly. One by one, he imagined them blending into his surroundings until he was no longer visible to the naked eye. Once he was sure he had done it, he chanced a glance in a mirror hanging on the far wall. A smirk lit up his face when no reflection appeared in the glass.
Silent steps carried him in the direction his mother went. He found her sitting on a bench outside the throne room, the little figure she towed next to her. Loki could not make out the gender, for the figure had its head buried in his mother’s chest, but he did see the endings of black curls escaping the hood.
“—must go after then at once! If they get away—” A voice Loki had never heard before rang out from the throne room. It was deep and solemn, tinged with an air of an emotion so desperate and raw he could only describe it as loss. He peeked into the room to see his father standing with a ginger haired man he had never seen before. The man carried himself with an air of regality only royalty possessed. Not even the soot and charred clothing he wore could take away from that.
“Loki!” The sharp sound of his name made him jump a few feet into the air. His cloaking shattered apart. He turned, sheepish, to see his mother standing before him. Her hands on her hips and the disapproving expression on her face had him rubbing the back of his neck in shame. “It’s past your bedtime! What are you doing up walking around with cloaking?”
“Nothing…” Frigga lifted a stern brow. Loki cracked immediately. “It’s all Thor’s fault, mother! He dragged me away from the library to partake in a very disappointing tine. Why he thinks I’d enjoy getting drunk off ale instead of rea…”. The look on Frigga’s face made Loki trail off. He realized, with consternation, that he had inadvertently sold his brother out.
Frigga pursed her lips. “Well, it seems as though I’ll be having a talk with your brother tomorrow. I suppose Fandral was involved as well? And poor Sif was along for the ride?” Loki rolled his eyes.
“I’d hardly think her an unwilling participant—”
“What was that?” Loki snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Good. Now come. I was going to wait until tomorrow but since you’re here, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” His mother took him by the hand and led him over to the bench upon which the figure sat. Now that they were no longer sequestered in his mother’s bosom, Loki could see that it was a girl about his age. “Loki, this is Princess Sigrid of Vanaheim.”
Loki blinked. He had heard a lot about the Vanir princess from travelers and nobles alike. Everyone knew how her father, King Ivan, had fallen in love with a mortal on one of his many travels to Midgard (which Loki had never understood for Midgard seemed like such a savage place). He had gone on to shock the realm by not only marrying her but making her queen and producing an heir with her.
Never had he seen the girl before, but others spoke of her a lot. Half-breed, they called her. Dim-witted and deformed, they would say. A princess of Vanaheim tainted by mortal blood. Loki decided there and then that those people were lying and had never actually seen the girl, for the specimen before him was nothing like they said. In fact, she was quite pretty.
The cloak she wore was charred and she smelled like smoke, but it did little to mar the intrigue of the girl beneath. Her hair was a mass of wild, black curls that were darker than his own hair. Smooth skin, a few tones darker and fair where his was white, stretched over round cheeks and a button nose that was unlike the straight ones of the Aesir. Her lips were set in a frown, dented with teeth marks from gnawing at them, and her lashes were so long that Loki wondered if a breeze was conjured when she blinked.
Even her tear-filled eyes were interesting. They were brown like Sif’s, though warmer in a way. Looking closer, Loki could see flecks of gold in the irises. He briefly wondered what they would look like in the sun. Perhaps like melted chocolate? Or maybe a pool of honey? Running copper also seemed like—
“Would you like a portrait?” The snap that emanated from the girl was so rough that he had to blink twice to make sure it came from the sweet face before him.
“I—”
“What’s the matter?” she asked again, brushing pass his stammer. “Haven’t you ever seen a girl before?”
Loki gaped at the girl. He looked to his mother, who wore an expression of utmost amusement, then narrowed his eyes at the girl. “You can’t speak to me like that!”
“Says who?” The girl folded her arms. Her thick brows drew together in annoyance.
“Says me!” Loki exclaimed. “I am a prince—”
“And I am a princess, what’s your point?”
Loki felt the strange urge to stamp his foot. “Mother!”
“Alright,” Frigga placed a hand on either of their shoulders. “That’s enough. Loki, Sigrid is going to be staying with us for a while—”
“How long? Is that why the Vanir king is here?”
“Yes, and for as long as she needs,” Frigga said. She returned to her seat next to the girl and brushed some soot from her tear-stained face. “She’s been through a lot, and it is no longer safe for her on Vanaheim—”
“Why, did something happen?” Loki had already deduced that a fire had been involved in whatever drove the royalty to Asgard, but he could not see how that lead to the princess having to stay with them. “And why does she smell like smoke? King Ivan, too, looked like his clothes were a flame away from falling off—”
“Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” Again, Loki gaped at the girl. There was just so much anger in her. Her fists were balled at her sides, face clenched and red, though beneath her trembling lip belied another emotion entirely. “Stop asking so many questions!”
Before Loki could retort, his mother’s hand appeared under his chin. “Son,” her eyes were shining with sorrow, “I humbly ask that you curb your curious nature for the time being. The princess is in no mood for questions right now. I’m going to need you and Thor to be kind to her while she’s here. Can you do that for me?”
Loki looked to the girl again. Her head had returned to his mother’s shoulder, and tears were trickling down her face. It appeared what had happened was bad, for her emotions were giving him a wicked whiplash. Yet, he could not deny his mother. “Of course, mother. Whatever you say.”
“Good.” Her eyes flicked behind him. Loki followed her gaze to see his father and the Vanir king. Odin shook his head upon seeing Loki up so late. Drawing near, he ruffled his hair with a battle-hardened hand. The princess got up and ran over to her own father.
“Son.”
“Father.” Loki leaned into his father. He glanced up at the man next to him and bowed his head in respect. “King Ivan.”
“Ah! The young prince Loki.” Ivan tried for a cheery tone, and he would have succeeded had his eyes not been so red and broken. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your brother from Odin here. How old are you now, boy?”
“Fifteen, your majesty,” answered Loki. The king gave a tired smile.
“The same age as my girl here.” He patted Sigrid’s head, who was now engulfing her father in a tight hug. “Sigrid, have you met the prince?”
“Yes, papa, I have.” She sounded so different now from when she was ripping into Loki just a few seconds before. “Are you really leaving me here? I don’t know anyone here.” She shot a rather harsh look at Loki. “And I don’t think I want too.”
A pained expression crossed the king’s face. He seemed as torn as any man could be, and Loki decided he had to figure out just what in the Hel was going on. When King Ivan pulled his daughter aside to talk to her in private, he craned his head up to look at his father. “Father, what is going on? Please don’t tell me that girl has to stay with us.”
The corner of Odin’s mouth turned up. He gave his wife a look before taking a seat next to her. “Do you dislike the girl already? Is there anyone who is up to your standards?” A blush threatened to bloom on Loki’s face as he thought of Fjor. He fought it back as he answered his father.
“She’s horrid! She talks to me like I’m not even a prince, it’s so rude!”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” his father said. “I thought you’d befriend her before anyone else. Her father tells me she likes books and studies like you.” Loki made a mental note to place a guard on his favorite shelf of books so she could not get to them. “She’s going to be with us for a while, and I’d really like your help with this. Can you help me with this, son?”
Loki’s resolve faltered. “Why can’t you ask Thor? Girls prefer him anyway.” Bitterness twisted the end of his sentence. He could already imagine the scowling girl becoming perky at the sight of his golden brother. Another girl for him to ignore Sif with.
“Thor will have to help, of course. I’m sure he’d be glad too.” Odin gave Loki a meaningful look with his lone eye. “Is this too much of a task for you? Should I let your brother go it alone? I would think this would be a good way to build your people skills for the future—”
“I can do it!” Loki decided that at the very least, he could use this as practice for the future. As king he would have to engage in negotiations and conversations with people he may not be fond of, and this girl provided the perfect opportunity to figure out how to do so. He was getting rather good at using his words to get what he wanted from people, anyways. Also, the girl was a small thing. How much trouble could she be? “I’ll do it, father.”
“Good!” Odin beamed and ruffled Loki’s a hair. A little bit of pride shot through him. He so loved making his father proud. “Who knows? You may come to enjoy her company in time. Perhaps it may been blossom into more than that?”
Loki pulled a face. He looked towards the princess again. Her father was down on one knee—because she was so short that he had to bring his towering frame down by half to look her in the eyes—-wiping away what looked like fresh tears. It was as though she sensed him watching. She turned her head towards his and gave him a hard stare, which he returned with one of his own before turning back to his parents.
“I’ll be kind to her,” Loki said, even as he thought of ways to make mischief and upset her. “But mark my words, dear parents. I am never, ever, going to like this girl.”
Chapter 2
