fic: You Will Need Strong Words (G; The Avengers, Kalevala)
Title: You Will Need Strong Words
Author: punahukka
Fandom: The Avengers movieverse, The Kalevala, Norse mythology
Disclaimer: I do not own the fandoms meantioned.
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~850
Characters: Loki, Louhi
Summary: Iron Man may be an incarnation of Ilmarinen. Loki wants him dead. Louhi is amused.
A/N: I remembered this prompt on Norsekink, and an hour and a few cigarettes later I had come up with this. I'm very much afraid this will start a new series of fics discussing theology.
When he has made it to the northern borders of Finland and Russia she comes to him.
Loki finds it hard to look straight at her: the witch queen’s precense is layered, and he can see various faces flickering behind the one she’s wearing now, the old hag with deep wrinkles and a thick braid of steel-grey hair, a wolfskin on her shoulders. She’s standing above and below the ground filled with needles of pine-trees as well as firmly on it, and the edges of her dress are shifting with a wind he cannot feel.
“Do you think you are a welcome guest?” she asks, not threatening, only curious.
“I wish to be, for I have come with news.”
Louhi smiles and reveals the holes of several missing teeth (perfectly white; yellow and sharp): “Let’s hear your news and see what they’re worth.”
Loki has to make an effort but he doesn’t blink when the forest bathing in the golden afternoon sun is suddenly dark and his breath comes out in white clouds. “I believe Ilmarinen has awoken in a mortal man.”
The witch keeps smiling. “Spirits do that. Look around you.” They’re in the middle of a busy street and there’s a group of blond women hurrying by with their shopping bags. “My daughters are everywhere. A part of their spirit is residing closely by your side too, I believe.” The forest is back but Loki can imagine Amora quirking an eyebrow at being accused of relations to Pohjola.
“So, I have failed gloriously in my attempt to bring something you wouldn’t already know to your attention, my queen,” Loki sighs and takes an exaggerated bow. “My only hope is the assumption that Ilmarinen’s demise would please you nonetheless.”
Louhi laughs, and for a second Loki can see an angry orange glow of flames surrounding her form. “Oh, it would, as much as my death would amuse them. But no matter how hard we have tried, we - myself and Tuoni, Ilmarinen, Väinämöinen, Lemminkäinen - have not succeeded in killing each other, and neither will you. You are an Asgardian.”
“I’m of Jotunheim.”
“You’re not of Midgard.”
“I have seen power beyond this and all the other realms.”
“You are not human.”
Loki is quiet, and the scenery changes again: they’re standing on a high forested hill, above a huge lake with many little islands scattered about it. Louhi’s hair, now pure white, is flowing around her head and she’s tall, young and beatiful.
They’re in a small cottage lit by candles, the youngest of four children points at Louhi’s brown braids that touch the colourful rag rug and giggles.
They’re in a church yard with the first rays of sun climbing to horizon and painting the red in the crippled and crouching witch’s hair so bright it hurts the eyes.
They’re on a silent road surrounded by fields and Louhi is a little girl trying to catch the lazily falling puffy snowflakes.
They’re sitting on a rocky shore in a pouring rain and thunder, and Louhi hands him a mirror. Loki looks into it and sees himself, but with a shockingly red hair and rows of small round scars around his lips.
“Only humans can kill us,” Louhi says, almost gently, as if teaching a lesson to a child, “and as long as they live on these lands, they won’t.”
They’re back in the pine forest, and Loki bites on his lip to stay silent for a while longer, to come up with a new direction.
“As for the mortal,” the witch queen continues, grinning again, “killing them shouldn’t be a problem for you, Silvertongue. Tell me what keeps you from what you so desire.”
“Now, my queen, it has turned out that I have nothing to offer you and I would only be asking for your help.”
“Are you too proud to ask? Pride has never taken men too far.”
They measure each other for a while, and once again Loki can’t help but wonder if the secret to Louhi’s power is indeed not being a man.
“I ask for your help,” he finally says, and Louhi nods.
“He is a mortal, but his mind is working on levels I have never encountered in a human. He learns quickly and has possibly come up with ways to fight my magic by now. He goes by the name of Iron Man for the armor he has forged.”
“It is truly remarkable if he can resist the Asgardian ways of Knowledge. You will need strong words for this one. But you are not doing very much to hide the personal grudge for this man in particular, Liesmith. What is he? A former ally? A loved one, perhaps?”
“Someone who needs to be reminded of his place. But I won’t deny that he would be a powerful ally.”
“Would you still like to make him one?”
Loki doesn’t answer, and the witch queen laughs again.
“You will need strong words,” Louhi repeats, and they’re in a throne room lit by torches. “Sing me the origin on iron.”