fossilised | Jotunheimr

Loki already had his own plans for becoming King, and contingency plans for if either of his brothers should be chosen. At the moment he felt that it was between Bylestir and himself; the Jotnar were tired of war and death, they wanted a gentler King and Bylestir embodied that, but Loki was obvious the most intelligent of the brothers by far and his ability to wield Seidr set him ahead.

While Helblindi had his supporters, they were few and concentrated in small pockets, the ones still angry who wanted to rise up again in violence no matter the cost. Revenge was a dangerous ploy to use for Kingship, but Helblindi knew little different.

Should he get the ear of Thor, though? Perhaps even make him love him as a consort, he could be King of Jotunheim and All-Mother of Asgard, he would be immensely powerful, and that was a tempting thing indeed. After a moment or two, he smiled, long and slow and seductive.

"To journey Jotunheim will take many weeks, are you sure that this is how you want to spend you time? You will be alone with me for much of it."

Unaware of Loki’s thoughts, Thor presses his lips together as he watched the Jotun at his side. “I feel as though to answer may be a trick,” he says, though the corners of his mouth give away the mirth he truly feels and he can not help but chuckle. That, in turn, causes his wounds to ache and he wraps one arm around himself for the reminder that he is not yet the Thunderer once more and has much to learn to become worthy of the title again...or, if not, much to learn about what his place might be here on Jotunheim. “A jest. You have proven yourself to be my protector. I can think of no other to make the journey with. Perhaps we should bring with us provisions so that we aren’t forced to rely upon my hunting skills.”

Once again, it’s just a little bit of self depreciation, mostly to make Loki laugh again. He can’t place why he finds it to be so pleasant, but oh... oh it truly is.

They are on their way not long after, Bylestir walking slowly with Thor as Loki leads the way down the corridor to the Tower gates. “I caution you to take care,” the giant says.

That makes Thor laugh. “Do not worry! I am much healed.” There’s misunderstanding there. Bylestir wants nothing more than to shield Thor from danger and his brother, as much as he loves him, is danger.

Loki found only amusement in hearing the words of his brother float forward, he was not so obtuse as the Aesir and he understood that Bylestir warned his new friend against becoming entangled in Loki's webs. It was flattering that his brother saw in him the threat that he truly posed, and he was pleased far more than offended, even as he turned to give Bylestir a wink.

"You worry too much, little sibb, I will care for the Odinson as though he were my very own."

Bylestir made a rumbling noise that was half fond amusement and half concern. "That is what frightens me, eldsibb, I have seen how you care for the things you own. I wish only to see my brother returned safe, and the All-Father's son treated with respect. Too long have we been broken, bonds of peace could be forged here."

"You speak the obvious, Bylestir. Go and bother Helblindi, the Odinson and I have many miles to travel, we go to Utgard."

"...of course you do." Bylestir sounded resigned, before he nodded respectfully to Thor. "Until you return, then."

Thor pounded the boy on the back, though what he could reach was more like the back of a thigh. It was the gesture that counted though, a friendly sort of thing, which likely would worry Bylestir too. Thor Odinson was genial and outwardly unaware and that made him an easy manipulation. He could not know exactly what Loki planned, just that Loki planned something.

His eldsibb always did.

They were off to little fanfare, though Farbauti-Consort and Laufey-King both watched from above, both unsure if they would be bringing down the wrath of Odin with Loki’s tricks or if they might find prosperity. Loki was always a difficult one to nail down if not impossible and his motivations were chaos.

Out of sight of the castle, Thor made a small observation to Loki, half chuckling. “How is it you get so much warning? Do you intend to eat me after all?”

It had been a very long time since Loki had walked any amount of distance like a commoner. Usually he rode a sniva or, if he were truly going on his own, he might dance the paths of the Void or shapeshift to make his passage easier. This would be an odd time, and he might show himself up for being unfit for long range walks.

"Perhaps."

He laughed, a genuine sound that was carried off by the wind as his intricate plaits danced behind him.

"I cannot deny that I have wanted to get my lips around you since the moment you arrived, Bylestir likely fears for your innocence."

Thor had tangled several times in his furs, he was not a stranger to that sort of thing, but for crimson eyed Loki to have interest in him, an oppressor, had to have been a joke and Thor responded accordingly.

“None would ever speak with you again and your very lips may be sewn shut for having touched any part of me. That may well go for eating too.”

He enjoyed his laughed, long legs taking him many strides without difficulty. Thor still had his stamina and much of his resilience thankfully, but he knew not the distances that they might have to travel to find a hamlet or a village for him to ingratiate himself with its people.

“My innocence is one thing no one need worry of.”

"Is that so? Your parents must be truly proud to have such a virtuous son, above dallying in the carnal."

He was not offended, he hardly expected Thor to light up with lust at his first proposition and tumble with him in the snow drifts. He knew that he would have to work on seducing him, making Thor decide that he wanted Loki and then drive him wild with lust before finally allowing him to rut.

"Tell me, is this how you intend to travel all the way to Utgard? You are of Odin and Frigga's get, are you not, that means seidr must run in your blood."

Though Loki again made him laugh with how forward and condescending he was. He'd come quickly to learn that the quick wit was not entirely made to shame and with only the two of them there, Thor found no reason to defend himself. Those he had enjoyed had also enjoyed him. Thoroughly. However he preferred to expend himself in other ways.

Battle being one of them.

The secondary topic, however, gave him pause and slowed his stride. "I am more of my father than my mother. Frigga All-Mother did not birth me. My father bedded once a Valkyrie and I am the product of that union. Warrior more than sorcerer. Whatever innate touch I might have had to Yggdrassil was striped from me wholly, as you have seen."

But he had once had it. His mood could influence the weather, sadness could bring the rain, anger could call up the fury of storm. He did not see that much as magic but rather proof to his worthiness of Mjolnir, which gave him much of the same sort of ability. He told none of this to Loki. Not yet. They were not close enough.

"Magic cannot be stripped from you, it is a part of your soul. Your ability to wield the Star-Hammer is gone, that much is true, but you are still Thor Odinson of Asgard. Odin possesses magic of his own, or he could not hold the power that he does, and you cannot deny the truth of your blood."

It was strange to him that in Asgard it was the father's blood who mattered more, that he had been taken and given to another mother, when it Jotunheim it was the dam who mattered much more than the sire.

"I feel it still within you, like electricity under your skin."

He held Thor's gaze for a moment and then slumped, overly dramatic in his disgust at all this walking.

"I have no intention of trudging all the way to Utgard, even if you do."

For that moment, when crimson met with sea storm blue, Thor felt a hint of that electricity Loki spoke of running through him, making the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end with static. The moment was the second sincere connection he had felt to this runt of a giant, but it passed a moment later as Loki complained about his own athletic prowess.

"I suppose the strides of your siblings make it easier for them to travel. The nature of this Realm disposes me as much as her people, Loki. You've seen the way even beasts of burden refuse to carry me. I doubt I have choice unless you possess some alternative means to travel. I did not see skiffs nor air chariots at your disposal."

Ah, arrogance. Thor couldn't help himself with that remark. He wasn't teasing, he was trying to get over that easy uneasiness that Loki had just given him, like the other could slip into his skin and wear him.

He didn't care for it.

Once upon a time they had possessed things similar to skiffs, though the means to keep them powered had been linked to the Casket, as so much within their realm was. It was why Loki planned to take Thor to Utgard, to what had once been the capital of Jotunheim and where the Casket used to reside. None could look upon the wasteland of what it had become and deny that taking such a thing had doomed this realm to a slow death. It was a cruel thing, not just a means to keep a potential enemy under control.

But it was a long journey.

"I have many ways to get where I wish to go, and if you ask me in a way that shows you actually possess more manners than a drunken ox, perhaps I will help in getting you there faster as well."

"What difference does our speed make? The journey is meant to be something as well, is it not? We have plenty to sustain us and--". And Loki could not make this journey on foot, Thor realised mid-speech. His body was not made for the physical, it was why he was so small and not a giant at all. His body was a vessel for seidr only.

Thor decided to acquiesce. He even decided to show a bit of chivalry, as if Loki's early flirting was a joke to be carried on for the foreseeable future. He took to a knee, not in supplication, but in chivalry, grasping Loki's delicate hand.

"Oh fyri," he said with a lofty, silly voice, "will you bestow upon my traveling party a way to reach our destination more quickly? There is only so much pickled fish I can take and I would enjoy a bed to a bedroll on the roads." Teenagers, no matter their culture, we're all the same.

What a fool, but a fool that was amusing, and Loki found himself smiling even at the idiocy of that sort of gesture. It was astounding, though, to see the Aesir take to a knee even in jest, such a thing was not done on Jotunheim, it was always an act of supplication and never anything else.

It pleased him to see.

"I suppose that I might see my way to assisting with your needs, I would hate to see you suffer needlessly again. Tell me, Odinson, do you prefer to gallop or fly?"

"For travel, I would rather fly. One day I shall take you with me when I reclaim Mjolnir. It is a ride like no other." Thor rose back to his feet, the tight packed snow not even bothering to cling to his knee. It took a moment more for him to drop Loki's hand, not because he was finding it difficult to let go, but because he did not think to do it. He did, however, kiss the knuckles first. The magic left to him protected his skin but his lips still burned from the ice for several long moments.

There was a magnetism there, but Thor wondered if that was just his mind. Loki's deep red eyes were impossible to see anything but mirth in and so it was all likely in his own head.

"How do you propose to fly us to Utgard?"

Loki felt his seidr resonate with Thor, but he imagined that it was just a reaction to the great power that Thor held within his skin and pretended that he did not. He was the storm incarnate, he could almost taste the lightning whenever Thor looked at him, and it bothered him that such a power was fettered.

Oh, what he could do with that.

He raised his eyebrows when Thor kissed his knuckles and then took a step back. He was engulfed in green for a long moment before a hawk stood where Loki had been. But this was no ordinary hawk, this was a gryfhawk, of the type seen in Jotunheim's mountain range, with a wingspan of fifty feet and a body almost as large as Thor himself.

Loki cawed and offered one large-taloned foot, an offer to carry Thor and fly, as promised.

To say that there was surprise in Thor's eyes would be akin to saying that the air here was somewhat chilled. There would be no way to overstate the shock on the Asgardian's face, though it was replaced with an admirable nod of the head. "There are few true shape shifters left on Asgard." Likely because it was difficult to trust those that could not hold shape and the Aesir had some mighty trust issues, that was for certain.

Without regard to understanding that the gryfhawk was still Loki, Thor brushed a hand over it's feathered head and across one outstretched wing. The chill of Loki's skin was gone for this creature did not have the ability to harm him from touch alone and so there was nothing for the magic gifting him ability to live here comfortably to work with.

He was full of mirth to become astride the great bird and he shouted joyously when Loki took off, both arms raised. The idiot.

Then again, the prince was no stranger of riding and his muscular thighs allowed him to easily stay where he was on the back of the Prince.

Urgh, Thor was heavy.

Loki was strong as a gryfhawk, but he was still not particularly well suited for having a full grown and well muscled Aesir on his back. He had hunted once or twice in this form, but he usually ate the kill where he swooped down on it, he had never flown with this added weight and so he was less graceful than he usually would be.

He was careful, though, not to let it show too much and landed with as much elegance as he possibly could when it finally got too much to keep flying. It would be a couple of days to get to Utgard, and he might not be able to fly the whole way.

"Tell me, Odinson," he said when he turned back into his Jotnar form, rolling his shoulders wearily. "Do all Aesir men weigh as much as a bull bilgesnipe?"

“Aye, those of any worth,” Thor said with a grin as he immediately started to set up camp. He had felt halfway through the flight that day that Loki had been having trouble with his weight and he had ceased making sharp movements to avoid disaster. Truth be told, he did not know his weight compared to beasts nor did he know his weight compared to others of his ilk. Volstagg weighed much more. Hogun, far less. But this would save Loki some pride. Thor did not suddenly grow in his own arrogance, however. He merely offered an out to a friend as he might have done to any of the Warriors Three...

With some ribbing.

“To think a giant can not carry even one Aesir... and I have not eaten as well as I might have, fearing to present myself to be all the more succulent for your appetite. But this will do. You saved us many hours. The stars have all gone to bed and now is a good time to rest.” Camp was a bedroll for Thor. Fire was not something he thought he could produce here. The Jotnar cooked, somehow, though perhaps with boiling water or with magic. Thor hadn’t rung all of the mysteries from Loki’s younger sibling.

"I can carry you."

For once it was Thor that got the better of the verbal sparring in this case, for Loki could not bear to be thought of as lesser to the other Giants who, as Thor noted, would not have any problem with carrying him. He might be smaller and slighter, but he would damn well prove himself ot be just as good as them.

"Tomorrow I will take a different form, a direwolf perhaps, your weight will be easier to bear on four paws than two wings."

He flopped down in the snow and pulled out two sticks from his pack, which he handed out to Thor with a small smile and some stinking bloody meat.

"Then make yourself more succulent, I have a hunger and you must sate it."

“You must make yourself as large of a direwolf as possible then,” Thor said, accepting the sticks with great ease and using them to start a fire once he’s dug his heel into the hard ground to form a pit. “My weight will only increase if you are determined to let me fatten up.”

He missed the innuendo this time, joking more on Loki’s potential desire to devour him literally instead of while he reposed in his furs. A few rubs of the sticks caused the fire to crackle large and the thick ice proved that it would not be melting anytime soon, not even with such a strong heat. The crackle of meat made the fire even more cozy and Thor sat in close to it to warm his bones and watch the marbling on dinner sizzle.

“Tell me a story. A good one. Your brother claimed you tell them best and I’d like to hear for myself the lengths your silver tongue might go.”

"I thought you were too chaste to see the true lengths my silver tongue might go."

He grinned, sudden and bright and wicked, before he reclined to watch the fire. He wasn't keen on the heat, not Jotnar were, but they knew that it was necessary sometimes in order to do things like cook or heat the water for bathing injuries.

"But I suppose that I can tell you a story."

He sat up straighter. Even if he had an audience of one, even if it was an Aesir, he would never disgrace himself by not telling the best story that he could. His voice was low and enchanting, illusions and lights danced around him as he spoke, illustrating the tale in shadows around them both.

"Once there was a Eisbar who lived in the great fjords in the North of the realm, she was a youngling and thought on nothing more than love. She had such notions of what true love meant, that she would find a mate who would warm her as they slept at night and help her bring cubs to the world. They would be happy and frolic, they would fish and hunt and live in happiness. Her mother tried to warn her that the Heart of the Realm had been taken, the ice was slowly melting, and there would be hard times ahead. But she believed that if she had love, she would be able to find any hard times.

Time passed and she grew, and she eventually found a mate. He was not all that she dreamed, he was coarser and had less humour, but he cuddled up to her at night and she could overcome some imperfections for the sake of love. He gave her cubs, small white bundles of fur that nipped at her flesh when she tired and were so helpless. Her attention became so focused on them that her mate left and did not return. She cried for him, but she had her cubs to love now. They would be happy, and so would she, and her life would still be good.

Her mother had not been wrong, though, and the ice melted more each year. There were less things to hunt, less plants to dig for through the snow, and her children cried for hunger. Weeks passed and she caught only one fish, not enough to feed both her and her cubs, and that was when she learned the true nature of love.

The cubs ate the fish and, when they cuddled up to the warmth of their mother's fur, they wondered why she was so still. They wondered the same the next day and the next, for she never moved again. She was right that her life was for love, she had just not known as a cub herself that this was what it would mean."

The stories on Asgard were proud and of great warriors and overcoming hardships. The stories on Jotunheim had a different song to play and an underlying sadness that touched even the Thunderer. He listened with a rapt smile upon his face until the horror of the ending make itself clear. the story of sacrifice, or of what love may well cause another to do, was much darker than any Thor had heard before.

There was a rumble overhead. A snap of electricity that Thor himself did not notice. His mood brought forth the promise of a storm, as it had done when he was a child, but his conscious mind shifted from tales of sorrow to the dinner at hand

“We will not have to risk choosing which of us will live. There is enough for all,” Thor said, mostly to shake the discomfort he felt.

He slept and rose and rode Loki. He listened to more stories by fire light and became ingratiated by the innuendo Loki tossed his way. He nearly thought, once, of asking Loki to his furs but he was already cold and the Jotnar would chill him. Besides. It would be a sin to bed him, would it not? Neither side would understand.

Come morning, four days after the tale of the Eisbar, they happened upon Utgard, high on a snowy ridge to overlook what even Thor could see had once been a beautiful, sprawling metropolis.

Now? Now there was evidence of war everywhere, a thousand years later. The snow was black. The buildings were rubble. The Jotun living in the valley were broken.

And the true, terrible meaning of the story he had begged to be told was clear.

“The mother died for love. And her cubs? They died because there was none left to love them. Is that what happened here?” Black hail pelted their shoulders. Thor could not hold ihis sorrow back.

Loki had felt the weather change at the end of his story and it had thrilled him in a way that little else had. There was a terrible and amazing power beneath Thor's skin and he so wanted to ride the storm and harness it. He very nearly jumped Thor right then and there, electrified and delighted, but he held himself back. It was obvious that the aptly named Thunderer did not know what he did and he needed to approach this carefully.

He felt that power again when hail rained down on him outside Utgard, filthy black and sticking to their clothes and skin to turn even his cobalt blue skin a shadow of its former self.

"That is what is happening to the whole realm."

For once, for impact, his voice was not lilting or mocking. This was plain and simple truth, the suffering of his people.

"Eventually this blackness will cover the whole of Jotunheim, and all will be dead. The Heart of our home has been taken and we have no power to get it back, this is no subjugation, this is a millennia long execution. A genocide."

"The Casket of Ancient Winters. The spoils my father took to join the trophies in our armory." See? Thor listened sometimes. He could put things together in his head from time to time too. He was not entirely dull and he was even less heartless than the Jotun had initially seen him as. What he showed Loki now was not his power, though the ash of death and ruin turned his golden hair to a horrible sooty grey.

Without warning, though if one had a good read of the situation, this was inevitable, Thor took off down the hill, sliding across the dirty snow.

He didn't know what he would do down there, he didn't know how he could help the broken, or what they might do to see an Aesir here of all places, but his reasoning was morally sound. The idiot. He wanted to help. And he'd end up killed for it.

"Thor!!"

Loki shouted after the fool, but the foul wind whipped his words away. This was an act of supreme idiocy, the Jotnar who still lived in Utgard, tied to the land with twisted bodies and futile hope, would not hesitate to slaughter him... if they got the courage to do so.

The first thing that Thor would find when he got down there was a child; young, obviously, for he was only about as tall as Thor himself. He stared into blue eyes and screamed, terror stark on his face as he fled.

"SOUND THE ALARMS! THE AESIR HAVE RETURNED TO SLAUGHTER US ALL!"

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