mind_the_muse - Five family members you love and one you can't stand
It had been Odin's idea. Loki wouldn't have presumed to suggest. Hint at? Well. Yes. But come right out and ask? Never. Odin, though, understood that. Understood him. They were, after all, far too much alike for anyone's own good -- and probably more than anyone would like to admit. But still, when the All-father took Loki's hand in his and mingled their blood, Loki couldn't help but feel a pleased sort of pride. Odin knew what he was -- knew all too well -- and still wanted to make him his brother. That meant more to him than Loki could ever -- would ever -- say.
He hadn't, quite, known what to think of the Thunderer at first. Sure, he liked his mead, which Loki could certainly appreciate but Thor was...
...was...well, not dull, exactly but... well, he might call Thor an easy mark. Except for the strength of his grip and a certain look in his eyes that suggested there was more going on in there than one might suspect at first glance. And he was loyal and honorable and all sorts of things Loki wasn't.
And still, they got along famously.
They all thought Loki'd hated him. Which wasn't true and never had been or would be. He didn't hate Baldr -- far from it -- but that didn't stop Loki from doing what needed to be done. Or so he'd believed, at the time.
Narvi and Vali couldn't readily be separated into one entity. His beautiful, charming, maddening sons. They took after their father just enough for Loki to contemplate tearing his hair out more than once when they were growing up. But they took after their mother just enough that he'd loved them from the time he first saw them. And that love was his downfall -- and theirs -- for what would happen to his sons wouldn't have been nearly as effective of a punishment of their father if he hadn't loved them.
If he hadn't loved them, perhaps they would still be alive.
One of her hands was stretched way up above his head, holding something, but she brushed a sweat-damp lock of his hair out of his eyes with the other. She was smiling tenderly down at him and he tried to return that smile with one of his own. He would have, except it hurt too much to move even his lips. He had to imagine how hideous he looked, now, all skin drawn taut over bone, covered in dried blood and scar tissue. But she could still look at him like that and that gave him a warm strength he clung to, desperately, no matter how long he was Bound, had been Bound, would be Bound.
She leaned down and carefully gave his forehead a gentle kiss and whispered, "I love you." She knew he needed to hear it.
He did smile, then, through the pain. A fierce, bright smile that lit up the gloomy cavern around them. He loved her, too.
The battle was joined. Clash of the Titans. Well...not quite. But Clash of the Jotnar didn't have quite the same ring. Not that Loki had time to think of this. Not when there was blood and darkness and gore and fire all around him.
Not when his gaze met Heimdall's across the battlefield. He didn't even remember charging to meet the Watchman of the Gods. He was just there, his steel clashing against Heimdall's, mutual fury and hatred mirrored in each god's eyes. Neither of them would walk away from this. That was just fine with Loki.
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wordcount: 600
He hadn't, quite, known what to think of the Thunderer at first. Sure, he liked his mead, which Loki could certainly appreciate but Thor was...
...was...well, not dull, exactly but... well, he might call Thor an easy mark. Except for the strength of his grip and a certain look in his eyes that suggested there was more going on in there than one might suspect at first glance. And he was loyal and honorable and all sorts of things Loki wasn't.
And still, they got along famously.
They all thought Loki'd hated him. Which wasn't true and never had been or would be. He didn't hate Baldr -- far from it -- but that didn't stop Loki from doing what needed to be done. Or so he'd believed, at the time.
Narvi and Vali couldn't readily be separated into one entity. His beautiful, charming, maddening sons. They took after their father just enough for Loki to contemplate tearing his hair out more than once when they were growing up. But they took after their mother just enough that he'd loved them from the time he first saw them. And that love was his downfall -- and theirs -- for what would happen to his sons wouldn't have been nearly as effective of a punishment of their father if he hadn't loved them.
If he hadn't loved them, perhaps they would still be alive.
One of her hands was stretched way up above his head, holding something, but she brushed a sweat-damp lock of his hair out of his eyes with the other. She was smiling tenderly down at him and he tried to return that smile with one of his own. He would have, except it hurt too much to move even his lips. He had to imagine how hideous he looked, now, all skin drawn taut over bone, covered in dried blood and scar tissue. But she could still look at him like that and that gave him a warm strength he clung to, desperately, no matter how long he was Bound, had been Bound, would be Bound.
She leaned down and carefully gave his forehead a gentle kiss and whispered, "I love you." She knew he needed to hear it.
He did smile, then, through the pain. A fierce, bright smile that lit up the gloomy cavern around them. He loved her, too.
The battle was joined. Clash of the Titans. Well...not quite. But Clash of the Jotnar didn't have quite the same ring. Not that Loki had time to think of this. Not when there was blood and darkness and gore and fire all around him.
Not when his gaze met Heimdall's across the battlefield. He didn't even remember charging to meet the Watchman of the Gods. He was just there, his steel clashing against Heimdall's, mutual fury and hatred mirrored in each god's eyes. Neither of them would walk away from this. That was just fine with Loki.
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wordcount: 600