Fic: Stolen (Thor)
Title: Stolen
Fandom: Thor- Movieverse
Rating: G
Ship: None
Summary: Pretty much I wanted to write Thor and Loki playing in the snow. :P
A/N: When it is this hot outside, I reserve the right to write snow!fic as I deem fit.
-----
The shining orb hovered before Loki’s thoughtful gaze. It was an artifact he’d always kept hidden, though always in view should he be spending time in his chambers. It sat atop a small black stand, enough to hold its spherical shape steady when it isn’t in use.
The magic he had used to create it was not something he had used since; dark, powerful magic was not something he liked to make use of. He may use his “silver-tounge” as they called it to weave mischief, but there were tales of dark magic consuming it’s user until their judgment was null and led them to their demise. He had tasted just that when he’d stolen this relic.
It was such Irony, he always thought, that the dark magic that had made him feel so detached and lifeless in his youth could now lead to his affection for the globe. Despite the fact that he had stolen the memory from the Allfather, keeping it forever preserved in this crystalline form, Loki knew he would never part with it given the choice.
In a fit of passion, years ago, in which Thor was always number one in father’s eyes, Loki had sought out desperately to find his father’s gaze falling upon himself in such a brilliant light. He remembers flipping through tomes to find just the right dark magic and summoning all the strength his not quite adult body to pull favor from his father. Days later, apparently, he had finally woken from a nearly lifeless sleep, and it had taken weeks longer for Loki to feel like himself again, yet somehow still tainted. The detachedness that Loki gained from the use of such dark magic has tinted his passions ever since.
But still the trinket remains. A memory, stolen from his father; a memory that Loki could not remember experiencing himself was all he had to show for his trials. Loki wished for all of his power that he could though.
-----
From the globe flickered blurred images and muffled conversation; a meeting that Odin himself could not remember vividly. A sparsely decorated room with no more than a plush covering on the floor and a large wooden table were all that could be made out. More distinct though, was the sound of laughing youth, no longer children and escalating toward adulthood quickly. There was a playful scream of maiden, and the rumbling sound of footsteps coming from the floor above. Odin paced to the stairs, presumably to silence the youth, but before he could make it came a young Sif, all brown curls and blue eyes, rumbling down the stairs with the five boys in tow.
At the bottom of the stairs was the door and out it she flew before Odin could speak, in her wake a portly young man with his two mates in tow, one gangly blond and a short dark haired one; the warriors three, not yet outfitted with armor and weapons. Behind them came Thor, short copped blond hair and blue eyes bright with mirth, and last was Loki, calm as he descended beneath a mop of dark hair and silence.
“I apologize-“ He began to speak to Odin before his deepening voice cracked and went up a pitch. He remained silent, his cheeks reddening. He looked ashamed, and then Odin let out a thundering laugh before clapping his son on the shoulder and shuffling him out the door.
Outside, Sif was laughing the high-pitched squeal of a girl as Fandral chased her about, a packed ball of ice in his hand. The snow was falling in large flakes and accumulating in her hair. They wouldn’t last long, as none were wearing warmer clothing to protect them for Midgard’s low temperatures in comparison to their home. Suddenly, Thor parted from his friend and jogged to the porch only to grab his brother and drag him out into the snow.
Odin watched the infuriated face of his younger son as he hurled snow at his brother, who could do nothing but laugh and then tackled Loki into the rising levels of ice.
-----
The whitened memory of the snowy day faded and began to resurface back at the beginning muffled conversation and Loki sighed as he returned it to its place on the shelf amongst tomes and herbs.
Perhaps one day, he will see snow again as beautiful as Odin had thought it on Midgard, and not as devastating as Loki himself had experienced it on Jotunheim.
Fandom: Thor- Movieverse
Rating: G
Ship: None
Summary: Pretty much I wanted to write Thor and Loki playing in the snow. :P
A/N: When it is this hot outside, I reserve the right to write snow!fic as I deem fit.
-----
The shining orb hovered before Loki’s thoughtful gaze. It was an artifact he’d always kept hidden, though always in view should he be spending time in his chambers. It sat atop a small black stand, enough to hold its spherical shape steady when it isn’t in use.
The magic he had used to create it was not something he had used since; dark, powerful magic was not something he liked to make use of. He may use his “silver-tounge” as they called it to weave mischief, but there were tales of dark magic consuming it’s user until their judgment was null and led them to their demise. He had tasted just that when he’d stolen this relic.
It was such Irony, he always thought, that the dark magic that had made him feel so detached and lifeless in his youth could now lead to his affection for the globe. Despite the fact that he had stolen the memory from the Allfather, keeping it forever preserved in this crystalline form, Loki knew he would never part with it given the choice.
In a fit of passion, years ago, in which Thor was always number one in father’s eyes, Loki had sought out desperately to find his father’s gaze falling upon himself in such a brilliant light. He remembers flipping through tomes to find just the right dark magic and summoning all the strength his not quite adult body to pull favor from his father. Days later, apparently, he had finally woken from a nearly lifeless sleep, and it had taken weeks longer for Loki to feel like himself again, yet somehow still tainted. The detachedness that Loki gained from the use of such dark magic has tinted his passions ever since.
But still the trinket remains. A memory, stolen from his father; a memory that Loki could not remember experiencing himself was all he had to show for his trials. Loki wished for all of his power that he could though.
-----
From the globe flickered blurred images and muffled conversation; a meeting that Odin himself could not remember vividly. A sparsely decorated room with no more than a plush covering on the floor and a large wooden table were all that could be made out. More distinct though, was the sound of laughing youth, no longer children and escalating toward adulthood quickly. There was a playful scream of maiden, and the rumbling sound of footsteps coming from the floor above. Odin paced to the stairs, presumably to silence the youth, but before he could make it came a young Sif, all brown curls and blue eyes, rumbling down the stairs with the five boys in tow.
At the bottom of the stairs was the door and out it she flew before Odin could speak, in her wake a portly young man with his two mates in tow, one gangly blond and a short dark haired one; the warriors three, not yet outfitted with armor and weapons. Behind them came Thor, short copped blond hair and blue eyes bright with mirth, and last was Loki, calm as he descended beneath a mop of dark hair and silence.
“I apologize-“ He began to speak to Odin before his deepening voice cracked and went up a pitch. He remained silent, his cheeks reddening. He looked ashamed, and then Odin let out a thundering laugh before clapping his son on the shoulder and shuffling him out the door.
Outside, Sif was laughing the high-pitched squeal of a girl as Fandral chased her about, a packed ball of ice in his hand. The snow was falling in large flakes and accumulating in her hair. They wouldn’t last long, as none were wearing warmer clothing to protect them for Midgard’s low temperatures in comparison to their home. Suddenly, Thor parted from his friend and jogged to the porch only to grab his brother and drag him out into the snow.
Odin watched the infuriated face of his younger son as he hurled snow at his brother, who could do nothing but laugh and then tackled Loki into the rising levels of ice.
-----
The whitened memory of the snowy day faded and began to resurface back at the beginning muffled conversation and Loki sighed as he returned it to its place on the shelf amongst tomes and herbs.
Perhaps one day, he will see snow again as beautiful as Odin had thought it on Midgard, and not as devastating as Loki himself had experienced it on Jotunheim.