THOR 2 ficlet: Kneel - Frostiron - spoilers
“Kneel”
Disclaimer: Avengers, Thor, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make
no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: Post Thor 2: [frostiron] Satisfaction was not in his nature, but fleetingly he was happy, but it took something special to hold his interest for long, to compete with his intellect, to amuse him. Finding such a person would satisfy him, but who?
Warnings: Slash. Frostiron. THOR 2 SPOILERS. Meant to be a drabble. One-shot. Minor slash at the end. Loki wants a Queen.
Rating: R.
A/N: I have two longer ideas floating around my brain, but no time to write them. This was just a way to quickly work through my feels until I have time to delve deeper (though nothing will help me get over Frigga)!
XXX
For every last king needs a queen. - Tyga.
Words: 2,220
Chapter 1
He watched Thor walk away from him, back to the throne of Asgard and the King seated upon it. When Thor was far enough out of earshot, Loki allowed himself to grin. There were no guards within the hall at the time, and Thor was gone by the time Loki allowed his magic to shimmer over the form of Odin Allfather, face narrowing, eyes brightening, body lengthening, until King Loki was seated there instead. Odin was in the Odinsleep, but by the time he woke (without Frigga to care for him or speed up his healing) Loki would have long established himself as King. The guards could not act against him this time, not after Thor abdicated; there was no other to inherit the throne but Loki!
He had Asgard, and his throne, as was his true birth-right. Odin had given him the expectation of a throne, for all of his childhood, had taken him in and promised him all he had promised Thor, so Odin should not have been so surprised that Loki would have grown to desire a throne. But he had one now, his own golden seat above all nine of the realms. His, and no others’.
But satisfaction was not in his nature, and his pleasure lasted no more than a fortnight before restlessness began to lick at the back of his mind, voices only he could hear demanding, whispering, and plotting. It took a further three days for him to realise what he was missing, in part due to his overthinking the situation, remedied by a well-timed offer of condolences to ‘Odin’ for the loss of his Queen. And that was it, Loki realised, that was what he was missing. Thor spoke now with Jane Foster’s voice (he should thank her for taking Thor from Asgard), and Odin had always considered the words of his wife before taking action (sparing Loki’s life, to be rewarded by Loki’s advice leading to Frigga’s death and then Loki’s hand taking the life of her murderer). He could not be King without a Queen, the space beside his throne was empty and cold, the hand that should have been upon his arm whenever his temper got the better of him was missing and there were no bright eyes, crinkled at the corners in amusement, to meet his whenever Loki glanced in that direction, no one to confide in, no one to smile at him, none to trust him implicitly like his mother always had Odin.
But he was Loki and his interest waned as quickly as it began, so he could not look for a wife among his own kind (Asgardian or Jötun), and also he wanted them to know him, not Odin, on their wedding night. But how? He locked himself away for a day, refusing food and audiences despite his guards’ worried queries through his locked door as he schemed. A Midgardian would do, he realised, for their lives were long but not overly so. They would be dead before Loki could grow bored of them, but they would last long enough that his need for a Queen might dissipate before his next Queen would be needed.
“Yes,” he murmured to himself, teleporting back into Odin’s chambers so that he could leave from that door. “I need a Queen.” He told the nearest guard, listening half-heartedly to the Asgardian’s suggestion of a ball, to amass all those eligible and willing into one place so that Odin may take his pick. “No,” Loki told him with a half-smirk, “I already have one in mind.”
Heimdallr was back at his post, to the watcher’s most sincere confusion because Loki had not bothered to tell him why when he had reinstated him, despite his treason. He had helped to save Asgard, and Odin was not there to truly be angry, Odin had not been there since Thor had left Svartalfheimr. Not since Loki in his disguise had passed on the news of his own death.
“Heimdallr,” Loki greeted softly.
“My King,” Heimdallr answered with a slow nod of his head.
Loki never got tired of hearing that phrase, no matter how often it was murmured in deference. Unlike his last attempt at ruling, this time people were actually pleased to see him enter the room or seated upon the throne and people did what he told them to. Soon enough, a hundred years at most, his subjects will be used enough to his way of ruling that Loki would be able to shed the disguise of the Allfather, wake him from his magically-assisted Odinsleep, and rule truly. But until then, “I have a task for you, gatekeeper. Send this to Midgard.”
Heimdallr glanced at him, already knowing where Loki wanted the gift sent, before reaching out to take it. He laid it on the Bifrost Bridge and turned the beam of light towards it once he was ready. “It is done, my King.” After a pause, Heimdallr spoke again, at Loki’s back, “are you sure this is a good idea? He will not be amenable to your schemes, Loki.”
Trust Heimdallr to know, Loki thought with a roll of his eyes, accepting that he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself shielded all of the time. No one would believe the gatekeeper without Thor to back him up, so Loki narrowed his eyes but let it pass unmentioned. “He’ll be too curious to say no straight-out. I will have time to make him amenable.”
Heimdallr simply nodded his head in silent agreement, and when Loki next arrived with a gift wrapped in green shiny paper and a wax seal that was Loki’s, not Odin’s, fastening it closed, Heimdallr took it without a sound and sent it to Midgard. This continued for months, longer than most courtships lasted normally especially consider they had yet to meet face to face in the years since the New York invasion, but nothing about this was normal. Loki had considered all of his options, but the younger mortals he had known held no interest for him, the ones that he might take pleasure in tainting could, possibly, live as long as he and that wasn’t what he wanted. He had no desire to marry a woman, despite the need for a ‘Queen’, and the archer was obviously not a possibility. Loki had no desire to work harder at this than he had to, nor did he want to be stabbed in his sleep by his new husband. Selvig was too old, Fury reminded him of Odin, and that left very few possibilities left, one of them being Tony Stark. Stark was intelligent, determined, amusing, curious, not unattractive, and straddled the line between hero and villain when the occasion called for it, despite thinking of himself as good. He was like Loki in that respect.
He was the best choice. He would die before Loki grew bored of him, and if Loki didn’t then there were ways to keep a mortal around (unlike Banner or Rogers whose biological make up would interfere with anything Loki did to them). It would not be a chore to take Stark to his bed, and the man was smart enough to keep up with Loki, a good conversationalist, and unafraid of him enough to talk when he shouldn’t. That was something all good Kings needed. Gifts of fine wines, ancient textbooks, scrolls that would self-teach the mortal Asgard’s language, a piece of the Bifrost for him to study, a horned helmet of his own, and something that he would be expected to wear when they next met were among the gifts that Loki had sent him.
Heimdallr had kept an eye on Stark’s reactions as each gift arrived and time passed them by. First Stark had offered the gifts to Thor, assuming they were for him. Then, he had thanked Asgard and whoever was being so generous. It went on like that until Loki included a note specifically mentioning his interest and the desired end result of these gifts. This was met by Stark’s insistence that he was in a relationship, but thanks anyway. The wine followed Pepper breaking up with him and Tony was rather enthusiastic in his enjoyment of it, though not as much so the resulting hangover. Loki had sent a recipe to deal with that, meticulously written onto a scroll and left out to dry, rolled and sealed with Loki’s wax seal again. Tony had been pleased with the hangover cure recipe, and Heimdallr had later informed him that the mortal’s attempts to brew had been twice as amusing as his drunken antics.
He had never signed any of his notes, nor gifts, with the exception of his seal which wasn’t well known even on Asgard. So, it was with some surprise that Heimdallr heard Tony Stark calling for Loki’s attention, a full year after the gifts began arriving. He was wearing the outfit Loki had sent him, his horned helmet tucked under one arm and the other wearing a gauntlet from his latest suit. “Beam me up, Scotty!” He called, while staring at the ceiling.
So Heimdallr brought him to Asgard, and sent him towards Loki’s throne room with a soft warning, “he is not how you remember him.”
Asgard was flourishing under Loki’s rule in a way it hadn’t under Odin’s in a long, long time. Thor was right about the planet stagnating, but unwilling to take the power to change it, like Loki had. Heimdallr had no desire to see Loki as the angry, broken creature he was a year ago, nor the planet sink back into darkness. “Take care.”
“Right,” Tony muttered with an eye roll. He found the throne room easily enough, strangely being given a rather wide berth by the guards (who must have been warned that he was coming because shouldn’t they be trying to stop him or something?) He didn’t bother knocking; using the gauntlet to blast open the doors, grinning widely as they almost came off of their hinges. “First impressions, and all that,” Tony offered the gaping courtiers who had huddled back towards the throne at his entrance.
“Stark!” Loki hissed, rising angrily from his throne.
“I brought you a gift,” he said. He took off the gauntlet, which was gold with no hint of red this time. He dropped it to the ground after pulling on the thumb, watching with a smug grin as the rest of the suit built itself up around it from seemingly nowhere. “Meet the NanoMan, teeny-tiny particles making up a much bigger suit when activated. All for you, Jadis.”
“You should bow before the Allfather,” a guard told him, sneer firmly in place and meaty hand attempting to push Tony to his knees. That was a lot harder to do since he had perfected Extremis, and so Tony managed to stay upright and the guard pulled his hand away burnt and smoking with a cry of pain a moment later.
“How about I kneel? You were all about that the last time I saw you.” Tony moved closer to the throne, until he was standing almost chest to chest with Loki, hands on his shoulders encouraging Loki to sit again, and Tony fell to his knees, the look on his face positively sinful as he nuzzled against the God’s thigh.
“Every one out. Out!” He shouted when no one moved after his first command. When the room was clear, Loki allowed his glamour to drop, revealing himself with flushed cheeks and wide green eyes. “You knew?”
“Genius,” he reminded the other with a shrug. “It didn’t take long to start guessing, but considering you’re supposed to be dead I wanted to be sure. You know, in case Thor walked in and caught me shouting your name at the roof, whatever.” He was still on his knees, face half pressed to Loki’s leather clad thigh, turned just enough away so that he could meet Loki’s gaze with one eye as he spoke.
“Is this you saying yes?” The God’s hands slipped down to tangle in Tony’s hair, petting softly as the man began to mouth at the bulge forming in Loki’s pants.
“This is an “I could be persuaded”,” he told the man leaning over him. Loki was panting harshly, hips bucking beneath Tony’s mouth, hands twisting painfully in his hair. “So persuade me.”
Loki’s hands moved faster than Tony could track, grabbing him under the armpits to haul him up onto Loki’s lap. He was seated just perfectly to feel Loki’s arousal against the seat of his pants, and he rocked back onto it, smirking at the moan Loki let slip. He didn’t quite manage to stifle his own groan as Loki’s hand cupped him through his trousers and began to squeeze.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Their lips met, tongues running along lips and teeth and each other’s’ even as Loki’s hand wiggled its way into Tony’s trousers. “Yes,” the man groaned, throwing his head back as Loki’s skin met his.
“I’m taking that as a ‘yes, I’ll wed you’ by the way.” Loki’s voice was smug, eyes bright, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to argue with the man whose hand was twisting just a little around the head before sliding back down, just the way Tony liked it.
The End
Let me know what you thought? :)
Disclaimer: Avengers, Thor, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make
no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: Post Thor 2: [frostiron] Satisfaction was not in his nature, but fleetingly he was happy, but it took something special to hold his interest for long, to compete with his intellect, to amuse him. Finding such a person would satisfy him, but who?
Warnings: Slash. Frostiron. THOR 2 SPOILERS. Meant to be a drabble. One-shot. Minor slash at the end. Loki wants a Queen.
Rating: R.
A/N: I have two longer ideas floating around my brain, but no time to write them. This was just a way to quickly work through my feels until I have time to delve deeper (though nothing will help me get over Frigga)!
XXX
For every last king needs a queen. - Tyga.
Words: 2,220
Chapter 1
He watched Thor walk away from him, back to the throne of Asgard and the King seated upon it. When Thor was far enough out of earshot, Loki allowed himself to grin. There were no guards within the hall at the time, and Thor was gone by the time Loki allowed his magic to shimmer over the form of Odin Allfather, face narrowing, eyes brightening, body lengthening, until King Loki was seated there instead. Odin was in the Odinsleep, but by the time he woke (without Frigga to care for him or speed up his healing) Loki would have long established himself as King. The guards could not act against him this time, not after Thor abdicated; there was no other to inherit the throne but Loki!
He had Asgard, and his throne, as was his true birth-right. Odin had given him the expectation of a throne, for all of his childhood, had taken him in and promised him all he had promised Thor, so Odin should not have been so surprised that Loki would have grown to desire a throne. But he had one now, his own golden seat above all nine of the realms. His, and no others’.
But satisfaction was not in his nature, and his pleasure lasted no more than a fortnight before restlessness began to lick at the back of his mind, voices only he could hear demanding, whispering, and plotting. It took a further three days for him to realise what he was missing, in part due to his overthinking the situation, remedied by a well-timed offer of condolences to ‘Odin’ for the loss of his Queen. And that was it, Loki realised, that was what he was missing. Thor spoke now with Jane Foster’s voice (he should thank her for taking Thor from Asgard), and Odin had always considered the words of his wife before taking action (sparing Loki’s life, to be rewarded by Loki’s advice leading to Frigga’s death and then Loki’s hand taking the life of her murderer). He could not be King without a Queen, the space beside his throne was empty and cold, the hand that should have been upon his arm whenever his temper got the better of him was missing and there were no bright eyes, crinkled at the corners in amusement, to meet his whenever Loki glanced in that direction, no one to confide in, no one to smile at him, none to trust him implicitly like his mother always had Odin.
But he was Loki and his interest waned as quickly as it began, so he could not look for a wife among his own kind (Asgardian or Jötun), and also he wanted them to know him, not Odin, on their wedding night. But how? He locked himself away for a day, refusing food and audiences despite his guards’ worried queries through his locked door as he schemed. A Midgardian would do, he realised, for their lives were long but not overly so. They would be dead before Loki could grow bored of them, but they would last long enough that his need for a Queen might dissipate before his next Queen would be needed.
“Yes,” he murmured to himself, teleporting back into Odin’s chambers so that he could leave from that door. “I need a Queen.” He told the nearest guard, listening half-heartedly to the Asgardian’s suggestion of a ball, to amass all those eligible and willing into one place so that Odin may take his pick. “No,” Loki told him with a half-smirk, “I already have one in mind.”
Heimdallr was back at his post, to the watcher’s most sincere confusion because Loki had not bothered to tell him why when he had reinstated him, despite his treason. He had helped to save Asgard, and Odin was not there to truly be angry, Odin had not been there since Thor had left Svartalfheimr. Not since Loki in his disguise had passed on the news of his own death.
“Heimdallr,” Loki greeted softly.
“My King,” Heimdallr answered with a slow nod of his head.
Loki never got tired of hearing that phrase, no matter how often it was murmured in deference. Unlike his last attempt at ruling, this time people were actually pleased to see him enter the room or seated upon the throne and people did what he told them to. Soon enough, a hundred years at most, his subjects will be used enough to his way of ruling that Loki would be able to shed the disguise of the Allfather, wake him from his magically-assisted Odinsleep, and rule truly. But until then, “I have a task for you, gatekeeper. Send this to Midgard.”
Heimdallr glanced at him, already knowing where Loki wanted the gift sent, before reaching out to take it. He laid it on the Bifrost Bridge and turned the beam of light towards it once he was ready. “It is done, my King.” After a pause, Heimdallr spoke again, at Loki’s back, “are you sure this is a good idea? He will not be amenable to your schemes, Loki.”
Trust Heimdallr to know, Loki thought with a roll of his eyes, accepting that he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself shielded all of the time. No one would believe the gatekeeper without Thor to back him up, so Loki narrowed his eyes but let it pass unmentioned. “He’ll be too curious to say no straight-out. I will have time to make him amenable.”
Heimdallr simply nodded his head in silent agreement, and when Loki next arrived with a gift wrapped in green shiny paper and a wax seal that was Loki’s, not Odin’s, fastening it closed, Heimdallr took it without a sound and sent it to Midgard. This continued for months, longer than most courtships lasted normally especially consider they had yet to meet face to face in the years since the New York invasion, but nothing about this was normal. Loki had considered all of his options, but the younger mortals he had known held no interest for him, the ones that he might take pleasure in tainting could, possibly, live as long as he and that wasn’t what he wanted. He had no desire to marry a woman, despite the need for a ‘Queen’, and the archer was obviously not a possibility. Loki had no desire to work harder at this than he had to, nor did he want to be stabbed in his sleep by his new husband. Selvig was too old, Fury reminded him of Odin, and that left very few possibilities left, one of them being Tony Stark. Stark was intelligent, determined, amusing, curious, not unattractive, and straddled the line between hero and villain when the occasion called for it, despite thinking of himself as good. He was like Loki in that respect.
He was the best choice. He would die before Loki grew bored of him, and if Loki didn’t then there were ways to keep a mortal around (unlike Banner or Rogers whose biological make up would interfere with anything Loki did to them). It would not be a chore to take Stark to his bed, and the man was smart enough to keep up with Loki, a good conversationalist, and unafraid of him enough to talk when he shouldn’t. That was something all good Kings needed. Gifts of fine wines, ancient textbooks, scrolls that would self-teach the mortal Asgard’s language, a piece of the Bifrost for him to study, a horned helmet of his own, and something that he would be expected to wear when they next met were among the gifts that Loki had sent him.
Heimdallr had kept an eye on Stark’s reactions as each gift arrived and time passed them by. First Stark had offered the gifts to Thor, assuming they were for him. Then, he had thanked Asgard and whoever was being so generous. It went on like that until Loki included a note specifically mentioning his interest and the desired end result of these gifts. This was met by Stark’s insistence that he was in a relationship, but thanks anyway. The wine followed Pepper breaking up with him and Tony was rather enthusiastic in his enjoyment of it, though not as much so the resulting hangover. Loki had sent a recipe to deal with that, meticulously written onto a scroll and left out to dry, rolled and sealed with Loki’s wax seal again. Tony had been pleased with the hangover cure recipe, and Heimdallr had later informed him that the mortal’s attempts to brew had been twice as amusing as his drunken antics.
He had never signed any of his notes, nor gifts, with the exception of his seal which wasn’t well known even on Asgard. So, it was with some surprise that Heimdallr heard Tony Stark calling for Loki’s attention, a full year after the gifts began arriving. He was wearing the outfit Loki had sent him, his horned helmet tucked under one arm and the other wearing a gauntlet from his latest suit. “Beam me up, Scotty!” He called, while staring at the ceiling.
So Heimdallr brought him to Asgard, and sent him towards Loki’s throne room with a soft warning, “he is not how you remember him.”
Asgard was flourishing under Loki’s rule in a way it hadn’t under Odin’s in a long, long time. Thor was right about the planet stagnating, but unwilling to take the power to change it, like Loki had. Heimdallr had no desire to see Loki as the angry, broken creature he was a year ago, nor the planet sink back into darkness. “Take care.”
“Right,” Tony muttered with an eye roll. He found the throne room easily enough, strangely being given a rather wide berth by the guards (who must have been warned that he was coming because shouldn’t they be trying to stop him or something?) He didn’t bother knocking; using the gauntlet to blast open the doors, grinning widely as they almost came off of their hinges. “First impressions, and all that,” Tony offered the gaping courtiers who had huddled back towards the throne at his entrance.
“Stark!” Loki hissed, rising angrily from his throne.
“I brought you a gift,” he said. He took off the gauntlet, which was gold with no hint of red this time. He dropped it to the ground after pulling on the thumb, watching with a smug grin as the rest of the suit built itself up around it from seemingly nowhere. “Meet the NanoMan, teeny-tiny particles making up a much bigger suit when activated. All for you, Jadis.”
“You should bow before the Allfather,” a guard told him, sneer firmly in place and meaty hand attempting to push Tony to his knees. That was a lot harder to do since he had perfected Extremis, and so Tony managed to stay upright and the guard pulled his hand away burnt and smoking with a cry of pain a moment later.
“How about I kneel? You were all about that the last time I saw you.” Tony moved closer to the throne, until he was standing almost chest to chest with Loki, hands on his shoulders encouraging Loki to sit again, and Tony fell to his knees, the look on his face positively sinful as he nuzzled against the God’s thigh.
“Every one out. Out!” He shouted when no one moved after his first command. When the room was clear, Loki allowed his glamour to drop, revealing himself with flushed cheeks and wide green eyes. “You knew?”
“Genius,” he reminded the other with a shrug. “It didn’t take long to start guessing, but considering you’re supposed to be dead I wanted to be sure. You know, in case Thor walked in and caught me shouting your name at the roof, whatever.” He was still on his knees, face half pressed to Loki’s leather clad thigh, turned just enough away so that he could meet Loki’s gaze with one eye as he spoke.
“Is this you saying yes?” The God’s hands slipped down to tangle in Tony’s hair, petting softly as the man began to mouth at the bulge forming in Loki’s pants.
“This is an “I could be persuaded”,” he told the man leaning over him. Loki was panting harshly, hips bucking beneath Tony’s mouth, hands twisting painfully in his hair. “So persuade me.”
Loki’s hands moved faster than Tony could track, grabbing him under the armpits to haul him up onto Loki’s lap. He was seated just perfectly to feel Loki’s arousal against the seat of his pants, and he rocked back onto it, smirking at the moan Loki let slip. He didn’t quite manage to stifle his own groan as Loki’s hand cupped him through his trousers and began to squeeze.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Their lips met, tongues running along lips and teeth and each other’s’ even as Loki’s hand wiggled its way into Tony’s trousers. “Yes,” the man groaned, throwing his head back as Loki’s skin met his.
“I’m taking that as a ‘yes, I’ll wed you’ by the way.” Loki’s voice was smug, eyes bright, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to argue with the man whose hand was twisting just a little around the head before sliding back down, just the way Tony liked it.
The End
Let me know what you thought? :)