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Thawing of the Frost

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King Laufey of Jotunheim had three sons: Helblindi the eldest, Byleistr second only by a few years, and Loki, who was separated from his brothers by nearly a century. Byleistr and Helblindi were both powerfully built, the top of their warrior classes as children. They now commanded parts of their father’s army, and had outgrown their father in height once they had passed into adulthood. They were close for Jotun brothers, sharing friends, and spent much of their time in each other’s company. It was clear as they grew that when Helblindi’s time to rule came, they would share power as equals, even if it were he that sat upon the throne.

On the other hand, where the elder brothers were well respected amongst the people and their father’s staff, Loki was the bane of Laufey’s house. It was clear to Laufey from the moment Loki’s birth father, Fárbauti, placed the impossibly tiny babe in his arms that the child was a runt. Fearing that the child would be discriminated against despite his royal blood the king lavished attention and protection upon him. He had the wisest scholars of the realm teach the child seiðr so he would always be able to defend himself - he could not rely on strength alone.
These years of being spoiled and adored had left Loki petulant and rude, the lack of the burden of the throne making him frivolous and thoughtless of duty. But to say such things where the king might have ears was to risk more than your life. He treated his youngest like a fragile bird whose hollow bones may break at the slightest touch, and as a greater treasure than all that lay locked away in his vaults.

Having been born a runt, the prince was far slighter than normal Jotun, being nearly half the size of his elder brothers, and his slender physique held none of the strength Jotuns were known for. Despite this, the prince was considered a great beauty. His features were softer than the severe ones that most Jotuns had, and his skin a far paler blue that many grew to envy. Most cut their hair short as Jotun hair was coarse,unruly, and got in the way during battle, but Loki’s was sleek as satin, and fell like a curtain down his back.

The child grew, self assured and vain, his talent for magic more than making up for his lack of size. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have a deep-rooted mischievous streak. Far from others tormenting him like most would assume for one of his size, he was the one known for cruel pranks. His brothers were the main victims, being targeted most often when they were trying to fulfil their princely roles, but none in the house of Laufey could escape the prince’s tricks. The king insisted they were harmless the single time someone of the court dared complain. No one ever did again. The king had a curious soft spot when it came to his son, but no other received such treatment. Rumour of the prince’s magical abilities and unusual beauty made him famous in the realm, and word of his wickedness about the palace was kept quiet so that the spell of his perfection in the eyes of the people would not be diminished. It worked well for keeping harmony between other realms too, as kings and lords would travel far and wide to come see the little beauty with such strong magic. They fell for his charm so easily they could not refuse anything Laufey wished.


Loki’s behaviour became agreeably better not long after the arrival of the slave to Laufey’s house. It was after a royal visit to a lord’s house that lay across the planes of Jotunheim, a trip Loki and his brothers were expected to go on as representatives of the king, and something hehad complained about for months prior, until Laufey had presented him with brand new robes for the occasion making him a lotmore compliant. Loki rode upon his horse, enchanted to withstand the freezing cold of the Jotunheim and a gift from a king from another realm. Such a thing was a rare sight in Jotunheim, and his brothers and irksome tutor Folkaðr rode slobbering ice creatures, massive in their size to encompass their rider’s giant forms. It was times like this Loki counted his slighter size a blessing; he considered those creatures disgusting and would never touch them. He deserved something as beautiful as he was and his sleek, black horse was perfect. The rest of the procession walked on foot and there were a few even larger beasts at the back to carry the luggage,most of which was Loki’s, containing the many outfits and trinkets he insisted on bringing.

The young prince would easily grow bored on trips like this; the dreary riding at a plodding pace and dull scenery held no interest for him. His brothers would rarely join in any games he wished to play and his tutor was even less fun. So in a moment of not so rare rebellion, as they were riding through a rural village, he pulled on the reins of his horse and diverted away from the group, cantering down a side street with a tinkering laugh. He heard cries of his name and pleas for him to return called after him, but he ignored them, weaving between the villagers and stalls that were crammed down the narrow alley. He heard a commotion behind him and turned to see that his brothers and servants attempts at following him had resulted in them upturning a fabric stall and they and their ghastly creatures had gotten entangled in the mess.

Loki let out another bark of laughter, before turning about and making down a different street. It lead him out into a large market square where a fairly sizeable crowd had gathered around a stand. Loki trotted over. His elevated height on the horse meant he could just about see over the towering heads of the other giants. The stand was evidently a slave stall, filled with creatures from other worlds. They were rounded up by slave traders who flitted between realms selling them off in places where these dregs of society were deemed more valuable than in their own homelands.

Loki knew that here in Jotunheim any of these would be a hard sell. The people here did not like change or strangers. The growing crowd were here mostly due to curiosity rather than actual interest in a purchase. He moved his horse down the line, inspecting the stock, a haughty look of boredom on his otherwise handsome features. There was a fire demon sagging in the middle of the row, its pull on the chains making the pair of dark elves next to it stoop, muttering foreign curses under their breath. Evidently the cold conditions of this realm did not agree with it. Loki was half tempted to buy it just to see how long it would take before the miserable thing died from exposure. There were a few scrawny looking Frost Giants in the stock too, which seemed more likely to be sold. Jotuns were not above showing their class by having a personal slave. He heard a few people bartering for them in the crowd and took pleasure in the thought that he could top all their bids easily, and take the whole stock home with him if he so wanted.

As he moved to the end of the podium, he finally saw something that really caught his interest. He had heard stories of Aesir, all Jotuns had, about their wildness and blood thirst: most older Jotuns had a story to tell of them from their experience of the Great War. But he had never heard tell of their beauty. And this one was beautiful. Loki had never known a creature to be so golden it shone as this did, even under the dirt that covered it. Its skin was faultless and smooth, with no markings like a Jotun’s. Loki longed to wash it clean as the filth tarnished the creature’s perfection. It had a long mane of hair like Loki, but where his was black and poker straight, this one’s was bright as the sun ,and rippled like waves. The creature was round about Loki’s height, or how Loki would be when he was fully-grown, but had a toned physic like the rest of Loki’s kind. Loki was entranced, utterly fascinated by this curious thing. He knew that he must have him, he had to know more about the beautiful Aesir regardless of what anyone else said or thought. He longed for it to raise it’s head so he could see its face, but it remained hunched where it stood, leaning against a Jotun next to it that dwarfed it in size.

“Master Loki!” Folkaðr panted, finally having caught up with him. Loki watched with some destain as he straightened his robes and gasped to get his breath back, and glanced over his shoulder to see his brothers behind him looking murderous. Their beasts still had scraps of material caught in their protruding fangs. “We must return to the procession, your father expects us back before we lose the light.” Loki ignored him. He never paid him much attention anyway and wasn’t about to start now when he had such an interesting prize to be claimed. He elegantly dismounted his horse, careful not to ruffle his fine robes, and pushed his way through the crowd to reach the stand. There was great muttering and murmuring through the crowd as they recognised who was amongst them. Climbing onto the podium, Loki stood in front of the Aesir, careful not to let his clothes touch the other man’s filthy skin. He was even more bewitching up close. Loki could see that the grubby fuzz that concealed the bottom half of his face was hiding handsome featured and more golden skin. Once he got him back to the palace that would simply have to go.

Still he hung his head low, not acknowledging Loki’s presence at all. Not used to being ignored, Loki risked reaching out a finger, placing it under the creature’s chin to tilt his head up and get a better look at his face. He couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath as he met the slaves eyes. They were bright electric blue, the only blue upon this creature and the singular tie connecting him to the colours of Jotunheim. Loki felt a stab of jealously. He longed for his own eyes to be as beautiful and starling. He suddenly hated his own red eyes, how dull and ordinary they were. Well, he could have the next best thing by owning the creature that had these far greater orbs. .

As he stared, transfixed by the colour, he noted that there was also a spark in those eyes; something that Loki found most intriguing. This creature’s demeanour and stance made him look utterly defeated but that spark seemed to hint that he was not completely beaten. Not yet, Loki corrected himself. “Taking interest in our Aesir stock, my lord?” The salesman said eagerly, hovering next to him, wringing his hands. “How does it work? How does he not freeze? I know Aesir cannot stand this temperature on their own. And how can I touch him?” “Ah, you see my lord, I used my own modest amount of seiðr on him to keep Jotun skin from burning it and to repel the cold,” He leant forward and brushed away the slave’s hair to around his shoulder, to reveal crudely carved runes at the base of his neck. “I knew this one would be of value, worth my time treating it a little better,” he grinned. Loki thought he looked like a letch, the kind that would ogle him from the crowd when he would travel through cities. “Hmm, a crude attempt but it will suffice for now,” Loki said, eyeing the bloody cuts with some disgust.

He had Folkaðr pay the man an overly generous sum for the slave (he didn’t know or care if it was the actual price he was worth), and instructed the tutor to take it back with him. He did not wish to touch him anymore than he needed to until he had been thoroughly cleaned. During the rest of the journey back Byleistr tried to talk him out of the decision of keeping the slave. He told him of the dangers of Aesir, of how he would slit Loki’s throat while he was sleeping and demanded that they should kill him now before he had the chance.

All this did was make Loki more adamant on keeping him. Despite his father’s best efforts, Loki still felt at times as the outsider of his family. The years between Loki and his brother held them far apart and there was little they shared an interest in. There were times Loki also got the impression of slight resentment from his brothers, him the favoured son even though he did little to help the kingdom and spent his time learning magic when they dedicated their lives to it. He was often teased by them, perhaps not as maliciously as they intended, of his weakness in their comparison. He did not doubt his brothers loved him, but did not respect him as much as he did them. If his brothers thought him so weak he could not control a simple slave, then he would prove them wrong and make it the most obedient and willing slave in the whole of the realm.

He watched his new purchase for most of the journey as where he staggered along tethered behind Folkaðr’s beast. He stumbled a few times along the way but always pulled himself back up and kept moving. Loki had respect for any creature with such determination to stay alive. They arrived back at the palace just before nightfall, and Loki immediately instructed for his new slave to be cleaned and dressed in something more befitting a servant of his. There was a welcoming feast held for the princes’ return, and Loki spent most of it at his father’s side, informing him gleefully about his new purchase. “And Byleistr does not think I can manage an Aesir slave, but that just confirms what we have all suspected for years: that he is an idiot” Loki took a sip from the single glass of wine he was permitted each meal, fully aware his brother could hear him. “Is that so? And you are going to prove him wrong?” Laufey asked giving Byleistr, who was brooding on his other side, one of his frosted smiles. “Naturally!” Loki snapped, making his father laugh with a sound like icicles snapping. Laufey did not threaten to take away Loki’s slave (was he ever known to deny his son anything?) but he did offer the same words of warning that Byleistr had given: do not trust an Aesir, for they will kill you if they are given the chance.



Loki had retired to his room early.The fatigue of the journey had set in and though he disliked anyone pointing out the fact he tired easier than most, being much younger and smaller than the other occupants of the hall. He had changed out of his formal robes and curled up in his obscenely large bed to read the book he had left behind before his trip and greatly wished to return to.

There was a soft knock on his door. Loki huffed out a command to enter without putting down his book. “Your new slave is ready, my lord, you said you wished to see him as soon as he was…” The servant trailed off, unsure of whether he’d done the right thing disturbing the prince. He had been known to have his father banish servants for far less than interrupting him.
But he seemed to have done the right thing, as Loki leapt out of bed, all previous tiredness forgotten. “Yes, yes, yes! Bring him in and then leave!” The slave was shown in. At his first sight, Loki knew he had made no mistakes in his purchase.. He could only guess how long it would have taken the maids to scrub and scour to remove the thickly caked on dirt but their efforts had been worthwhile. The golden skin Loki had been so taken with looked as smooth as marble under the dim light of his room and the man’s hair, which had been pulled back into a tie, shone silkily.

As instructed, his facial hair had been shaved to reveal a strong jaw and pale pink, supple lips. He wore plain servants’ robes, which were rather dull but fitted him extremely well and could always easily be changed into something more to Loki’s tastes. His face was expressionless, much like it had been at the stall, but his completion seemed healthier. He stood rather rigidly, arms hanging loosely by his sides, but looked as though he could jump into life at any moment. Loki took in the sight greedily then clapped his hands, giggling with glee. “Oh yes, you are utterly perfect.” He glided forward and gently splayed a hand across his hard chest, smoothing down the thick muscles of his arm. It was a strange sensation to feel skin that radiated heat, even through a layer of clothing. Loki felt the pulse of blood pumping under the man’s skin and raised his other hand to place over his heart, at the very source of that life. He felt dizzy with power and excitement. He glanced up into the man’s face which remained staring passively at the opposite wall, unaffected by Loki’s touch. He couldn’t wait to parade his new prize about the palace tomorrow, to show everyone what beauty he owned.

“My lord, this was found on him.” The servant stepped forward, holding out a smooth stone pendant, shaped rather like an upside down cross, a fine string tethered to it. Loki reached out and took it, turning it over in his palm, and found runes carved into it. He read them, mouthing the word they spelt before speaking it aloud.

“Thor? Is that your name?” Loki asked, looking back up at the slave’s face. The man gave no voiced reply, just a small nod. The servant bowed out before closing the door. Loki was positively buzzing to know everything there was to know about his new toy. But he couldn’t come across as too eager; he had to show the man he was in charge, or how else would he command respect?

Most of the slaves on stalls like the one Thor was from were criminals, banished from their own realm. Loki was itching to know just how dangerous this one really was.

“Can you speak?” He asked. Thor began to nod before stopping himself.

“Yes.” His voice was rough and deep and sent a thrill down Loki’s spine.

“I once visited Asgard when I was but a child, you know,” Loki started softly. His family had visited the golden realm during the first days of peace after the Great War between the two realms. All Loki could remember of the events was a man with a golden eye who had terrified him, whom he was forced to be nice to. He had been extremely pleased when they had returned home. But Loki was determined not to show any of this to this Aesir. He was hoping to form some sort of rapport with the slave by sharing this information before he asked further questions, but his words were met with no reaction.

“Of course, I was too young to remember much, but I recall it was a beautiful realm, with an abundance of gold and red - your realm does love those colours so.”

Still nothing. Loki thought that perhaps those memories might be painful to revisit so changed tack.

“The vendor told me that you had only been on the stall a short time. I was lucky to have spotted you so quickly, otherwise someone else might have snatched you up from under my nose.” Loki flashed his most charming smile, looking coyly up at Thor from under his lashes. It was a look he had learnt could melt the hearts of even the coldest visitors.

“Good fortune indeed,” the slave muttered, speaking so very softly, as though he wasn’t used to haveing the ability to do so. Loki grew impatient with pleasantries, especially as his preciously given charm was apparently wasted on this creature, and decided to advance to his questioning.

“What circumstances lead you to be on a slave stall?” he asked, gentle tone forgotten. “I don’t remember.” “What was your position in Asgard before you were a slave?” “I don’t remember.” Loki gave a huff of irritation. “It may help if you told me what exactly you do remember,” he snapped. “And you are to refer to me as ‘my lord’ or ‘my prince’ when you address me. At least have the decency to remember that!” There was a pause and Thor lowered his gaze from the far wall to stare at the floor ahead of him. “I don’t remember anything,” he started in the same muted tone. “I was found by the owners of the stall in the deserted planes of this realm with nothing to my name and no memory of how I got there or of my life before.. All I know is of my time with them and my life as a slave.” There was a pause. “My prince,” He added. Loki’s initial disappointment at having no further insight into his new prize’s past was quickly replaced by excitement to have a creature brand new, to mould to whatever shape he liked.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, a sickeningly sweet tone coming over his voice. He stepped closer to Thor, extended a hand to cup his newly smoothed face, and tilted it up to finally meet his own eyes. For the first time that night Thor looked at Loki, and Loki felt his heart beat faster in his chest. He would teach this creature to adore him.

“Your home is here now and I am all the world you need know.”



Loki found it hard to find jobs for the new slave at first. His life, like that of most princes, was set in a regime where everything was already done for him, and Loki was loath to disrupt that routine. Instead Loki found Thor a few menial tasks to do but mostly used him more like a doll for his enjoyment. What first attracted Loki to the slave was his beauty and uniqueness, and he loved to show this off by dressing him in robes and jewels, finding out which colours went best with his colouring and what brought out his eyes. He would spend hours at a time, brushing and plaiting Thor’s hair in different styles, before they would swap over and the slave would brush out the nonexistent knots from Loki’s hair, as Loki happily read in front of him.

All this, coupled with the fact that he was Aesir and had no place being in Jotunheim at all, caused a rift between Thor and the other servants. The tension grew over the days and weeks, escalating to such an extent that a fight broke out in the servants’ quarters one night between Thor and three other members of the house.

The three were disciplined but despite Loki tantrums and insistence, they were allowed to remain in service of the house. In a rare show of authority over his son, Laufey dictated that if Loki wished to keep his new prize, Thor must be moved into his own chambers and kept out of the way of the other staff. It appeared that the king’s distain for Aesir was stronger than the need to mollify his youngest son. Thor was moved into one of the many rooms of Loki’s wing. Loki was at first furious about this, but that quickly changed once he realised he had an excuse to redecorate the room to what he thought suited Thor best. The room was was covered in the same golds and reds that Loki preferred on Thor and reminded Loki of Asgard, with thick animal pelts draped over the floors and a great hearth with a constant roaring fire only Thor was permitted to tend to.

Loki was greatly entertained by his new slave, and extremely smug he had proven himself capable of keeping him, happily preening under the eyes of everyone as they stared and commented on how unusual it was to have an Aesir servant. Buthe couldn’t help but think that Thor wasn’t that much fun. His rigid, stoic demeanour hadn’t softened since the first night Loki had bought him, in fact the run-in with the other servants had only added to it.

He would concede to every demand Loki made, join in whatever game or prank he wished to play, but it was with little enthusiasm, and he would never talk back even when Loki lost his temper.

The first day Thor had been with Lokithe prince had shown him around the palace personally. He pointed out the rooms he was and wasn’t allowed in, where everything was kept that he would need and Loki’s favourite places he liked to go. The Aesir had remained silent the entire time, nodding occasionally but reacting little to his surroundings. They had eventually come to rest in Loki favourite spot in the library and Loki curled up in one of the chairs, book to his chest.

“This traipsing around has made me thirsty,” he said. His voice sounded off-hand, but he was really almost breathless with excitement. All morning had lead up to this moment. “Bring me some water from the kitchens, slave.”

This was a test, to see how Thor would react to his first proper command and how much he have remembered from the endless amount of information Loki had laden him with so far that day.

Loki sat with bated breath, pretending to read from the book he had just opened, but really watching his slave’s movements closely from the corner of his eye. He was just waiting for the tensing of a fist, the indignant yells of a proud Aesir refusing his orders. But none came.

“Yes my prince,” was all Loki got before a stoop of his head. Then he had turned and left Loki sitting stunned and rather disappointed.

He had returned sometime later, apologising for the delay and holding a platter of iced water and a light lunch. Loki could not hide his disgruntlement and shock this time. 

It was what anyone would desire in a slave but Loki had begun to find it tedious. The novelty of having an Aesir slave was wearing off. He hadn’t even had the fun of breaking him in; he had just arrived like that.

Even his brothers had been forced to admit Thor was the prefect slave, despite his heritage. and commented on how he was unlike any other Aesir they had ever come across. Loki boasted that it was due to his skills in taming him, but actually thought it was due to Thor not even remembering what is was to be Aesir to begin with.

Thor was still considered a lesser being to all in the household - being Aesir and a slave would mean he would never really fit in - but his presence was simply the norm now. There were no more disturbances with the staff, and even visitors to the castle had begun to address Thor by name, the initial shock of seeing a pale skin in Laufey’s halls utterly common now. To see Prince Loki walk the halls meant you would also see Thor the slave following suit. He was turning into just another toy Loki had insisted upon owning only to just grow tried of.

However, the start of a change happened one morning after Loki’s lessons with Folkaðr had finished. He was curled up under numerous furs with his book on the balcony of one of the many drawing rooms of the palace. Thor sat opposite him, darning one of Loki’s favourite tunics he had snagged on a table corner the night prior.

It was peaceful. Loki had to admit that he did enjoy Thor’s company like this. He did not have or want friends, (of course there were the sons of important people that always talked to Loki at feasts or social gatherings but Loki knew they wouldn’t give him a second glance if he wasn’t the king’s son) so to have Thor with him at all times being a reassuring presence was a nice change, and from the way Thor would relax in times like these, when they were alone in the quiet, Loki thought he enjoyed his company too. It would have been nicer still if Thor would start a conversation now and then, but as slave never spoke unless directly spoken to, they mostly remained silent.

  Loki was disturbed from his studies by the sounds of children playing in the courtyard beneath them. Laughter carried up to where they sat and sounded fresh and pleasant on the sharp morning air. Thor met his gaze as they both looked up to listen and gave Loki a small, rare smile before returning to his work. But Loki glowered. How he hated that sound. Being thought too weak and sickly as a small child, he was rarely allowed to play with the other children of the lords and jarls and could only watch their games bitterly from a window like this. When he was allowed, they treated him so differently to the other children that Loki refused to partake in any of their games at all after a while.

He leaned over the edge of the balcony to stare down at these children now. They were just old enough to be able to tap into their natural ice seiðr and had conjured small ice blades which they were fighting with as if they were swords. Their laughter grated on Loki’s ears and he glowered even more when he saw one child fall but immediately spring back to its feet with a laugh, brushing snow from its tunic without a scratch. Loki seethed. If they enjoyed the ice so much, let them have the full experience of it. With barely a whisper passing his lips, (he had mastered the art of silent spell casting at a record young age), and a graceful twist of his hand, he summoned the magic within him to crack the long pillars of ice that clung to the edge of the balcony. With a great screeching, an array of icicles shattered upon the floor, just in front of the children.

There was loud shouting and screaming from bellow, and Loki gleefully leaned over the edge to watch the chaos. The children had stopped their games to stare at the mess around them; some were crying, the others yelling in shock.

“What happened?” Thor asked from next to him, sounding alarmed, setting down his work to lean over the edge. “Was anybody hurt?” Loki turned to him curiously. He had never seen him have such an emotive reaction to anything else before. Loki took in the look of panic on his face, wondering why he was so concerned. These were not his people after all.

“No of course not; I was simply teaching those little frostlings a lesson. Just a bit of fun. And what matter if they were?” He snickered. “Do not look so worried. I dislike that look on your face; it makes you ugly.”

Thor gave a little nod, and rigidly took his seat again; taking up Loki’s tunic but not returning to his stitching. Loki ignored him, turning his attention back to the scene below. The children seemed to have settled down; they had taken up the larger shards of ice from the wreckage and were playing with them instead.

Loki hissed in annoyance. He was supposed to stop their games, not add to their enjoyment. His fist clenched on the railings of the balcony and he was just about to summon another bout of ice to disperse them, when a hand gripped his wrist and wrenched it back. Loki’s head whipped around to see who would dare touch him in such a manner, and saw Thor looming over him, face looking thunderous.

“Do not do it again,” he said, voice rumbling low and commanding. His eyes were gleaming with some unknown rage and passion Loki had never seen before which made the blue irises shine even brighter.

“You do not tell me what to do, slave! Let me go!” Loki hissed, trying to twist out of his grip, but Thor just tugged him closer with alarming ease so that Loki was almost hanging off his grip.

“You do not do it again, do you hear me?” Thor growled, breath brushing over Loki’s face and making him shudder. His skin felt hot and his heart was hammering faster than he could ever remember. Thor’s grip on his wrist was unrelenting, feeling like a vice, grinding his bones together and making him gasp with pain as Thor gave it another squeeze.

“Do you hear me?” Thor almost shouted this time; face inches from Loki’s own, making him cower away from him.

“Yes,” Loki gasped, “yes I promise I won’t.” Thor let him go and he staggered back to his seat, slumping into it, cradling his wrist.

“Thank you, my prince.” Thor said, returning to the serene, gentle tone he usually used to address Loki as if nothing had happened, and turned back to his stitching. Loki sat staring at Thor in shock, and it was a while before he realised he was shaking. He stared down at his arm to see the impression Thor’s grip he had left on his skin still remaining.

No one had ever addressed him like that; no one had ever even dared touched him less delicately than you would handle glass. And yet here Thor was, a common slave, treating him like he was a creature to be broken in and tamed. He watched Thor work, slowly and methodically. He felt strangely as though it wasn’t his place to talk about what just happened, which was absurd, as he could do whatever he wished. After several moments of silence, the only sound being the children’s resumed laughter, Loki picked up his book with trembling fingers from where it had fallen and tried to read again, though his mind was elsewhere. It was only when Loki was summoned for lunch later on that afternoon that either of them spoke again.


Loki was beginning to suspect the events of the afternoon had been some wild dream he had concocted in the night.Thor acted as he always did, reserved and obedient, taking all orders from Loki and never questioning his actions again. It infuriated Loki. The only thing confirming that anything had taken place were the mottled black and midnight blue finger shaped bruises around his wrist, but even they were fading.

For the days and weeks after, Loki could think of little else but the way Thor had so easily been able to restrain him, , defying him like no one else had or ever dared. But instead of fear, the thoughts thrilled him like nothing else had in months. It was a perverse excitement like nothing Loki had ever felt before and though it scared him a little, he enjoyed it too much to care.

He became so desperate to see that side of Thor again that he even took to doing thing to deliberately annoy him. Brushing his hair to the point of pain when he would sit in front of him to be styled, mocking him loudly to Loki’s brothers when he stood dutifully behind him and even upturning his desk, stacked with all his book and papers, and demanding Thor clear it all up. Thor of course did so without complaint.

Loki grew so frustrated with Thor, he even struck out at him one night when he remained as irritatingly obedient as ever, his tiny fists striking against Thor’s hard chest, probably barely even felt by him. All Thor did was give a bow and apologise, before retiring to his own room. As the weeks passed, Loki didn’t know whether he was angrier with Thor or his own betraying body. For the last few seasons, Loki’s transition into manhood had awoken things inside him that he would rather stay dormant. Before, his sexual needs that he was always taught were a weakness and a shameful thing, had been stated every few nights or so, when his want grew too strong – he would desperately fist his hardening cock under his sheets, his mind utterly blank, trying to ignore the glistening wetness between his thighs, wishing for the debasing and vulgar experience to be over.

Now he was tending to himself almost every night, his traitorous cock rising every time his mind would inevitably turn to thoughts of Thor’s weight and heat pressed against him and the easy way he had manhandled his body. He would curl on his side, one hand slipped down the front of his silken trousers, pumping furiously. Occasionally fingers would gently skim the unknown folds below not daring to delve deeper. His other hand would be clamped firmly over his mouth to ensure his whines and moans could not be heard in the room a few doors from his own. But still, would often reach completion imagining that the occupant next door would one night hear him and come help him be rid of this heat that would not go away regardless of how much he willed it.

The problem was, he could so easily get what he wanted. Of course he could, he was the son of Laufey, King of Jotunheim, and he could have whatever he wished. But to demand it from Thor would defeat the point entirely. It could not be ordered, otherwise Loki would still have control, and he so desperately did not want to have control of this. He wanted Thor to hold him down, pin his wrists above his head, let him rut against him, to squeeze the breath out of him, just so he would know what it was like. Then finally he would be free from it and would never have this weakness again.

But as it was, his desires seem unobtainable. For the first time in his life, Loki could not get what he wanted.


Noting his son’s slightly sullen disposition of late, King Laufey attempted to cheer him up by inviting him on that year’s hunt. Loki had never been allowed to come before, as Laufey feared the boisterousness of it would be too much for his favoured, fragile son, but he was now eager to see him out of this melancholy state. Loki, always eager to accept whatever treat he was offered, agreed. He joined his father’s procession in the early hours of the morning of the hunt, his trusted black steed amongst the raging beasts, hungry for the kill.

The sport of hunting was a rare thing for this realm, as finding creatures appropriate for it was difficult, but there were a few areas that housed some. To stave off extinction of the beasts, hunting was only allow annually, and only by those noble enough to be in company with the king. The hunting grounds this year were what came closest to a forest in Jotunheim, filled with gnarled, blackened trees that grew tall and bare, with a thick smog about the ground so you could not see further that a few paces in front of you.

Loki was not allowed to actually participate in the hunt of course, and had to hang back with the servants that carried the provisions and were there to bring the carcases of the kills back to the palace. But Loki was happier this way. He got the honour of coming along and the pride of the kill without actually having to do anything that would get him grubby or covered in blood, which suited him fine. It was also the perfect opportunity to dress in his sporting robes of deepest reds, which he had been seeking an occasion to wear. It also meant he could bring Thor along with him, which he would have had to argue with his father to do if he actually had been hunting.

Loki had been excited all morning: travelling next to his father on the ride down, being amongst the men for the first time in his life, watching their interaction with a keen interest. He finally felt as though he could belong amongst them, even if what they were discussing was utterly dull to him. He caught his father beaming at him with pride at one point when he artfully joined in the banter making the men roar with laughter, and he felt his belly fill with warmth, all dejection regarding Thor forgotten.

However, once the hunt actually started and the stampede of the procession disappeared into the fog, things became a lot less interesting. Loki followed the slow process the servants made into the forest. They barely spoke, and if they did, it certainly wasn’t directly to the prince.

They rode for about an hour like this, passing trees whose bark looked like twisted faces, and that became more closely knit the deeper into the forest they entered. Thor walked along beside Loki’s horse, pulling any debris out of their way, and as usual staying as silent as the rest. Loki had grown bored a long while ago. If he knew it was going to be like this, he would never have come, or have demanded that his brothers stay with him to keep him company. If they would that is. They were always much less willing to do what he said than everyone else. He was idly wishing Thor would follow their disobedient example a bit more, when he saw a flash of movement to his left. He craned his neck, and squinted through the mist to see if he had imagined it but after a moment he saw it again: a a dark shape amongst the trees, barely visible through the smog, darting away from their group.

He pulled the reins of his horse to slow it down to a standstill. The men had been talking at the start of the hunt of the difficulty of spotting a beast in these woods, let alone catching one. If Loki caught this one (what it was mattered not, his magic could bring down any creature) next year his father would almost certainly let him join in the hunt properly, not just be forced to hang back with the servants. He glanced around; no one else seemed to have seen what he had, which was perfect. He didn’t want anyone trying to stop him on the misguided orders of his father. “Are you well my prince?” Thor asked, looking up at him with concern etched on his face.

“Yes, I- I just need to relieve myself.” Loki cringed at the vulgarity but it was the only excuse he could think of to gain privacy. “I would make use of those bushes.” He pointed vaguely to where he saw the beast moving and slipped off his horse to make his way there.

“My prince, let me escort you. I little trust these woods and my only concern is your safety,” Thor insisted, making as if to follow him.

“No!” Loki snapped. “I do not need a carer. Stay and look after my horse.” He half expected Thor to argue, to show some defiance like he had that day on the balcony, but he didn’t. He stood frowning by the horse and watched as Loki slipped into the fog, the procession moving on around him.

Once he was sure none of the group could still see him, Loki broke into a run, praying he hadn’t missed the creature and that it hadn’t scurried off so deep into the forest that he could not find it again. He dare not be too long or someone would come looking for him and spoil everything.

The thickness of the fog meant Loki could barely see farther than an arms length in front of him, and he repeatedly stumbled over fallen branches and rocks hidden by the snow, the wind whistling a shrill tune above the trees as if laughing at his embarrassment. Branches like long, crooked hands snagged his clothing a few times, as if trying to pull him back to them, but Loki just wrenched himself free, ripping the fabric. His shoes were slowly becoming stained with muddy snow but for once he didn’t care. He would occasionally hear a noise or see a flash of movement ahead of him and knew he was getting close to the animal.

Loki finally reached a small clearing where he paused to listen for any sound. The beast must have passed through this way, but it was unclear which route it would have taken.

As he waited, he went over in his head the spell he would use to stun it.. To truly impress his father and his men, he must kill it without magic, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use a few tricks in his favour.

There was suddenly a rustling from his right and he whirled to see a pathetic looking creature stumble into the clearing and start nuzzling at the ground. It was somewhat large in height but so scrawny and wretched looking that if he brought the body of it back with him he’d be laughed out of the kingdom. Loki’s shoulders sagged and he slumped down on a nearby log, suddenly exhausted. He had soiled his beautiful clothes, gained scratches on his hands and face and worked himself up into a state, all for this measly thing.

The creature ambled over to him and began to nudge at his foot in a hopeful manner.

“Shoo, I don’t have any food for you! You were supposed to be food for me,” Loki sighed, raising a hand to half-heartedly swat it way. “The best you could do would to be bait for something better.”

As if on cue, the trees around him crumpled like children’s play blocks as a monstrous beast trampled through them, flattening them into the undergrowth and causing the creature at Loki’s feet to flee.

This new beast let out a terrible shrill shriek sounding as though it were dying, it’s hideous head thrown back, before rounding on Loki who was frozen in place on the log.

Loki was trembling. He tried to recall the words to his spell, tried to picture the runes in his head but his mind seemed to have been wiped clean. His only thought was: “I’m going to die. This beast is going to rip me to shreds and feed me in pieces to its young.”

The indignantly of being another creature’s meal seemed to snap him out of his reverie and he managed to stumble back onto his feet as the monstrous thing approached him.

“St-stay back,” Loki started in a wavering voice, knowing that the creature had no idea what he was saying but remembering what Folkaðr had once said to him about wild animals: if you talk in a soothing and calm voice, they may not attack you out of fear and give you long enough to run and get help. The trouble was this beast did not seem to fear Loki at all. Much rather fancied him as his dinner.

“I have magic, and I will use it on you if I have to! My father is king and he will hunt you down and stick a bade down your throat if you touch me.” The beast snorted putrid breath through its nose, so close now that Loki could feel the warm air of it on him. It cocked its head to the side as if curious to hear a creature that could make such sounds.

“That’s right,” Loki said, a slightly hysterical tone to his voice now, “leave without hurting me and you can keep your head.”

The creature did pause; its sharp yellow eyes boring into Loki’s. Loki was so terrified he felt on the edge of tears he. If he survived this, he would never again leave the safety of the palace walls.

Just when he was beginning to think the creature might turn and leave him, it suddenly lunged forwards in a pounce, knocking Loki to the ground. He gave a scream of pain as the creature’s weight fell on him and its talons pierced his shoulder. His foot hooked around a root in the undergrowth as he fell and twisted until he heard a loud crack.

Almost blind with agony, Loki spouted the first spell his brain provided and managed to propel the beast a few feet off him. It let out a snarl as it landed on its back and spun around to stand up right.

Loki was sobbing now out of pain and fear. He began trying to crawl away as much as his broken ankle and searing shoulder would allow, pulling himself along the snowy ground. The beast approached again slowly, as if savouring Loki’s torment as he pathetically tried to flee.

As Loki heard the beast nearing, he cursed the Norns that would allow his end to be such a pitiful one. This was not the ending fit for a son of the King of Jotunheim, to die in the dirt, alone and crying.

Just as he felt the wretched animal’s hot breath once again on the back of his neck, knowing he would soon look upon the face of Hel, he heard another crashing though the trees. He lifted his head, expecting expect to see an other beast come to share in the spoils, but instead saw Thor, with a wild and terrible expression across his face, sprinting towards him.

Thor leaped over Loki’s shuddering body and attached himself to the neck of the beast wrenching it away from Loki and slamming it on the ground. Loki turned to watch as the beast gave another shriek of rage and attempted to claw at Thor, but Thor simply grabbed the beast’s flailing arm and in a terrifying display of strength, ripped it from the creature’s body.

Loki gave a choked gasp as hot blood splattered across him, coating his face and chest.

The beast gave a gurgling scream of agony, blindly swiping with its other arm and catching Thor across the chest with the sharp talons that had ruined Loki’s shoulder. But Thor was unrelenting. He forced the beast back into the ground, pinning it down with his knees and, slipping a knife from his belt, split the creature’s belly in two, causing its guts to spill out onto the forest floor. Loki sharply turned away, clenching his eyes shut, but he couldn’t block out the foul smell, or the beast’s final screeches as its life drained from it.

Loki turned back to see Thor standing above the beast’s felled body, chest heaving. The sight made Loki give out another whimper. Thor was covered blood, possibly more so than Loki; half the side of his face was drenched in it from an oozing wound. His hair had come loose in the scrap and hung about his face in bloody tendrils. His tunic was in tatters where the beast’s claws had ripped it and his skin was grubby from grime, gore and sweat. For a sweet moment Loki forgot his pain and terror, and was lost in the sight of his slave. He wanted to be ruined by him, completely and utterly.

Thor finally turned to look at Loki, still collapsed in a heap upon the ground, his shoulder oozing blood and his foot turned at an odd angle. The intense, slightly mad look upon his face immediately disappeared and a look of terror and concern replaced it.

“My prince, you’re hurt!” he cried, sheathing his knife and rushing over to stoop by Loki’s side, his hand brushing away the hair plastered to his face by blood and tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I should never have let you go on your own.” Loki reached out a trembling hand to wipe some of the grime from Thor’s face.

“You saved me, my wonderful, foolish Thor. You came for me.” He whispered. Thor covered Loki’s hand with his own and pressed it closer to his cheek. Loki could have wept again.

“We need to get you back home,” Thor said and he reached down and scooped Loki up in a bundle in his arms, holding him close to his chest. Loki pressed his face into the man’s bare skin, not caring about the filth splattered there, finding unbelievable comfort in the warm feel.. He slowly slipped out of consciousness listening to Thor’s even breathing and the steady beat of his heart as he ran.



A soft noise eventually awoke the young prince from his deep dreamless sleep. His red eyes glowed from under his lids as he was wrenched from his slumber, and he spun to his right to see his father sitting by his bedside murmuring into a scribe’s ears words that they furiously jotted on a parchment.

“What is the point of you sitting diligently by my bedside if you insist on working too?” Loki said in a coarse whisper. Laufey instantly dismissed the servant and ran a large palm over his son’s sleek hair, looking down upon him with a weak smile.

“How are you my son?”

“As well as can be expected after a savaging from a beast,” Loki hissed, as he shifted where he lay. He tested his limbs under the sheet and found that they ached considerably, but he by no means felt the agony he had before. There was no hint of the shattered ankle or butchered shoulder thanks to the physicians and their remedies. Time mattered little to him, but Loki would estimate he had been resting for three days or more to have the wounds healed so much.

“You were a fool to think you could go up against such a beast and come out the victor. I told you to stay with the servants for a reason,” Laufey quietly scolded, but he seemed more relieved at his son’s recovery than angry at his rashness. Loki leaned into the rare comfort of the hand cradling his head and felt a wave of thankfulness he was able to experience once more, what he had thought for a while that he never would know again.

“I was, but in my defence, I did not intend to come across one quite so ferocious.” Laufey gave another small smile.

“It was my blunder. I should never have taken you to those woods. I knew the risks, yet brought you anyway.” Loki gave a sigh. He wished his father would not treat him with such fragile handling, but on this occasion he had to agree. Hunting was definitely not an experience Loki wished to repeat again. He would find favour with his father and his men another way, he would make sure of it.

“Father, I do not blame you. Had I not wandered off, I would never have found myself in such a position and I would have been quite safe with the group. Though having such meek servants meant none stopped me; you should have that seen to, father.” Loki was never one to solely take the blame when he could get away with it.

“Hush my son; you should rest now. Leave disciplining the servants till you have fully recovered your strength.”

“Father,” Loki started, “what of my slave? You have not punished him have you? He has done no wrong and saved my life.” He feared his father had seen the state of his son in Thor’s arms and assumed he had been the culprit. He could not bear the thought of Thor harmed.

“He is fine; everything is fine. He has wanted to see you I think, but it is not his place to be by your bedside. You will be able to see him once you are well again.” Loki nodded, already feeling exhausted despite only being awake for a little while. His father’s hand still stroking his hair soon lulled him back to sleep.

He awoke again alone, the thick drapes closed over the windows and his room dully illuminated by a few torches that cast a warm orange glow. He knew it must be night but not how many days had pasted since he had last woken.

His ankle and shoulder held no more pain, he was pleased to find, but his body still ached from the length of time he had remained in his slumber. He summoned a servant to run him a bath in the hopes of cleansing the stiffness of his body, and sent word to his father that he was awake but did not wish for any company.

When he sunk into the tepid water of his private baths, he let out a groan, letting the tense muscles in his back relax and unwind. He had never suffered like this before, a lifetime of avoiding and being sheltered from any physical exertion meant his body was not used to such treatment. He spent a long while lathering himself with his scented soaps to wash away the dried sweat and musk from his body. He washed his long, oil black hair three times as although he had clearly been washed while he was sleeping, he still felt as though he could smell the stench of the beast’s blood on him.

He rose from the water after a long time scrubbing and felt far better than he had before. He went to change into his favourite white silk tunic, but paused when he stood naked in front of his mirror. He raised a finger and gently followed the long scar along his collarbone to his shoulder. Clearly it had not been long enough for it to completely heal and disappear. It was a pale blue and slightly raised. He had never had a scar before.

He was half tempted to keep it as a reminder not to be foolish again, but quickly dismissed the thought. It was ugly and a blemish on his perfect skin, marring the natural markings that he was covered in. He was just about to summon the seiðr to eradicate it himself when, with no warning, he recalled with almost startling clarity the smog filled forest, the over powering scent of earth and the dampness of melted snow. He could no longer see his reflection before him, instead all he saw was white forest. It was as if here were there again, curled up on the forest bed, drenched in sweat and his own blood, mind clouded with agony and knowing with certainty he was about to die. His fingers shook and he felt warm tears roll down his cheek.

What he wanted more than anything in this moment was to be held and soothed, tears wiped from his cheek, and told everything was all right. Unfortunately this was not a thing to be done in Jotunheim; to run seeking comfort because he was fearful of a beast long dead would seem ridiculous.

Loki’s tears flowed thicker and faster and he stomped his feet in rage at himself for being so cursedly different from his kind, who would never be plagued with nightmares of their horrors, and for not being able to get what he wanted. If he did not fear his father treating him with even more trepidation and care in future, he would ignore decorum and go cry into his chest until the terrible horrors in his mind were just a faint memory.

He suddenly remembered a time when he was held, when strong arms were holding him like he was precious, of the overwhelming feeling of safety and protection when he thought all hope lost. The feelings that memory brought took his breath more swiftly than the tears had.

Thor was waiting for him just a few doors down, Thor who had saved him, had risked his own life to keep him safe. The slave whom he had thought unfeeling, only fit to take orders. But now he understood. The time spent with the slave traders, his memories wiped for some unknown reason, had left him a shell of a god to be moulded to whatever whims those men had for him, which was what Loki would have wanted too if he hadn’t have seen what lay beneath.

When on the rare occasions Thor was made to feel, to properly care for something else, he could push pass all the deadening brutality he had experienced to find the person he was underneath. It appeared he had a deep-rooted need to protect; it explained his actions to defend those children under the balcony that day and how he had acted so animalistically in the forest with Loki, as if he was acting on his natural protective instincts.

It just takes me to bring it out of him, Loki thought, giving a wet, breathless little chuckle in the silence of the room. I am the only one that can make him feel. He felt a shiver of pleasure at the thought.

Loki smiled to himself as he stared at his tear stained face in the mirror; his eyes had finally stopped leaking. He knew whom he could find comfort and complete and utter security from. Thor would not question the propriety of Loki coming to him, he was a slave, and who was he to question his master?

Though Loki still longed for that strong willed, passionate beast that had first enflamed him on the balcony, for this he could make do with a slave for now.

He pulled on a tunic over his slim shoulders which just brushed his upper thigh, but left his trousers. He sat in front of his vanity table’s mirror and began methodically brushing his damp hair dry until the redness of his watery eyes faded.

He stared at his reflection. Not up to his usual standards but it’d have to do. His hand wavered over his chest of jewellery, but closed the lid instead and rose. He felt naked without his usual garnish of gold but he supposed that was appropriate for what he was about to do. He soothed out any imperfections of his clothing, before padding out of his bedroom bare foot, and across his living area to stand in front of Thor’s chamber.

He knocked gently once before entering. The wash of heat over him was stifling once he entered. He rarely visited Thor’s room as he had never had any need to though he has many fantasies of doing so, the last time had been when he had first inspected it after its redecoration, and it had barely changed since then. Thor was kneeling by the fireplace, tending to the crackling flames that were the source of the unusual heat of the room, but quickly moved to stand once he saw Loki in the doorway. He wore a more casual tunic than he would with while serving the prince, and his hair hung loose about his shoulders. Loki rather liked this look on him.

“My prince,” Thor said hurriedly, “you’re awake. I wished to see you before but the king wouldn’t...” He stopped abruptly having nearly disrespected Laufey right in front of his son. Loki merely smiled, showing there was no harm done and Thor continued.

“I feared the worst; your wounds seemed grievous, and I have not been told how you were.”

Loki noted the dark circles under Thor’s eyes and the sickly parlour to his skin. It appeared he hadn’t found rest in the time Loki had been recovering. Loki took great pleasure at that thought.

“I am fine now, maybe just a bit stiff.” He made a show of stretching and thrilled at the way Thor’s eyes followed the rise of his tunic up his thighs.

“I am greatly indebted to you, Thor, for how you saved me. Without you, I would surely be dead. I thought I was dead for a while.” He stared intently at Thor’s face, gauging his reaction as he took a seat next to the fireplace opposite him. As he had hoped, Thor grimaced at the mention of death and Loki had to repress a smile.

“You do not owe me anything, my prince. I just did what any servant would do,” Thor said bluntly, shifting awkwardly. Loki gestured for him to sit too before he continued.

“I think you went above and beyond what is required of you, Thor. I don’t think many servants would risk fighting such a beast for their masters.”

“I would die for you,” Thor said without hesitation. “I would willingly give my life to keep you safe.”

Loki felt breathless. His stomach clenched in delight at those words and the intensity of Thor’s gaze.

“No, I do not doubt that you would.” Loki said quietly. “You are a most remarkable creature, Thor.” There was a pause where they stared at each other in the light of the fire.

“But as I said, I am indebted to you; you saved my life and that cannot be ignored. And I do so hate to be in debt.” He stood and crossed the few steps between them to hover over Thor, who remained still in his chair.

“What is it that you desire as recompense?” Loki whispered, gently brushing away a lock of Thor’s hair across his brow, his other hand soothing out across his chest. “What can I do to rid myself of this troublesome debt?”

“I just wish to see my prince happy and well again,” Thor said, his stiff demeanour wavering. Loki allowed his smirk to stretch over his lips.

“Then take what you want.” He hissed into Thor’s ear, breath dancing across the other’s skin.

Thor surged up, hand coming to cradle the back of Loki’s skull as he pressed their lips together. Loki gave a slight yelp of surprise as his mouth was suddenly plundered by Thor’s tongue.

Affection wasn’t unknown amongst Jotuns; but touching was thought of more as a necessity than something to take pleasure from, and rarely displayedin public. Still, Loki was not so ignorant as not to know this was a kiss. He had heard tell of it in books and stories, and sometimes seen a fleeting press of lips between servants in dark corridors when they did not know Loki looked on. But no quick glances or mere words written on a page could prepare him for how it would feel.

It was so open and burning, like Thor was forcing his own heat into Loki, past his lips and down his throat to scorch his insides. Loki let out a gasp like he had been winded and Thor drew back.

They remained silent, panting slightly in the close air of the room. Loki breathed in lungfuls of the air that Thor exhaled, which made him feel dizzy. He stared at Thor’s parted lips, slightly darker than usual, glistening in the flickering light of the fire. His eyes followed the sweep of Thor’s tongue as it darted out to dampen them.

“Touch me,” Loki asked, so quietly the plea could only be heard if you were standing as close as Thor.

The Aesir reached out a hesitant hand that paused at Loki’s chest. He traced a lone finger along the detail of the prince’s tunic, along the ridged patterns and swirls until he reached the high crest of the collar. Loki’s was nearly panting, giddy with desire and anticipation, but he tried to control his breathing so that his rising chest did not disturb Thor’s touch.

Eventually Thor reached flesh; Loki’s dark skin flushed a deep blue, thin neck taut. He couldn’t smother a shaky gasp as Thor ghosted the back of his knuckles up Loki’s neck and down again to the bob of his throat. Loki closed his eyes and tipped his head back, mouth falling open as Thor followed the strong line of his jaw then rested his hand just under his ear, thumb brushing the soft skin, his other hand coming to cradle the back of Loki’s head.

Loki was almost trembling. He had never realised how touch starved he was until Thor’s was on him.

“It’s alright,” Thor murmured. Loki opened his eyes and was met with Thor’s piercing stare, the eyes that Loki was always so taken with boring into his own. Now the startling blue had almost disappeared into the wideness of his dilated pupils, his breath slightly laboured. It made him look wild and feral, as Aesir were always supposed to look, as he had in the clearing.. Loki remembered how desperately he had wanted him even then, how he had wanted to be taken apart by those solid hands. Even after all his tenderness, he still wanted it so desperately.

Thor moved his hands, a burning drag over Loki’s skin, to rest around his neck. His hands were so wide, one could have reached all the way round on its own, and for one wild moment Loki thought Thor was going to choke him. Still, he did not pull away or order him to stop.

Instead of choking, Thor used the pad of his thumb to press down on the swell of Loki’s lower lip, gently tugging down. Loki let out a stuttering breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“I’m afraid if I continue my prince,” Thor said, in such a deep murmur that made Loki feel as though his legs might give way, “I may forget my place.”

Loki suddenly grew impatient of Thor’s hesitance. He was finally getting what he had longed for and Thor was still wavering. “I am ordering you to continue. I want it! Your place is to follow my orders, so you will...” Loki’s snapped commands were cut off by his own shrill squeal as Thor lifted him by the waist, pressing him close to him, and carrying him across the room with as much ease as if he was carrying a doll.

Loki was too shocked to say anything, and could only scramble for balance on Thor’s shoulders so he could gaze down at him.

“I apologise in advance my prince, but now that you have given your orders it will be very hard for me to keep my control in check,” Thor said behind a smirk that was threatening to break through.

“So you have wanted this too?” It was Loki’s turn to be hesitant, face flushing at his amdission.

“I have wanted to bed my prince for a very long while.”

Loki flushed at his words, but never one to be out done, leaned down and caught Thor’s lips with his own. He barely knew what he was doing, but tried to mimic how Thor had kissed him, hoping he had the same effect.

He prised Thor’s lips open and explored with teeth and tongue. Thor gave a little grunt of satisfaction when Loki sucked at his tongue and Loki smirked around the kiss.

Loki’s world was suddenly tipped as Thor bent down to splay him out on the bed, shifting him up so his head nestled on the pillows. Loki gave a noise of protest as Thor pulled away, grabbing him by the hair to keep his lips on him.

“Mmm, patience my prince.” Thor hummed against his lips, giving him one last peck before prising his hands out of his hair and laying them by Loki’s head.

“Have you even known me to exercise good restraint?” Loki panted, trying to sound less affected than he already was. His cock was hard and leaking, creating a damp tent in his tunic that thankfully hadn’t ridden up, and between his legs was throbbing with a burning ache.

Thor simply gave a little smile at his words as he straightened up. It appeared even sex couldn’t make him speak ill of his master.

Thor pulled off his own tunic over his head, tossing it to the side. Loki was suddenly hit with such a strong wave of want that he couldn’t hide the moan that escaped his lips. He had seen Thor naked countless time, in fittings for new clothes he had got made for him, or when he wanted company in his baths, and he had always admired his beauty as one couldn’t help but do., But he had looked upon it like one would look at an abstract piece of art. Even once he had accepted his longing for Thor he had never wanted him as much as he did now, when his base desires he had tried so hard to ignore had taken over all his senses.

Loki didn’t even know what he wanted next. His fantasies involving Thor had always been limited, as he didn’t know much about sex and how to go about it. He’d mostly just come at the thought of Thor on him, touching him, holding him down; perhaps stroking him like Loki would do to himself. Now it was real, with Thor standing over him splayed out on his bed like a tribute, Loki was completely aware of how at Thor’s mercy he was. He needed him to show Loki what do to, how to find pleasure and what made him feel good. The thought made his cock ache all the harder.

Loki gave a deliciously needy sound, arms outstretched, begging to Thor without needing to say a word. Thor gave a small twitch of his lips, before slipping onto the bed, straddling Loki’s small frame.

Loki mewed at the sudden weight of Thor’s body hovering teasingly over him, covering him completely but not quite touching, his presence being enough to make Loki writhe up to try and get more. .

Loki ran his hands up the curve of Thor’s back, clawing around his shoulders to the collar bone that stood straining out. He let his nails bite into his skin as he dragged them down, admiring how the bronze surface went pale white when his nails raked over it then flare up red in it’s wake. Loki leaned up to taste the warm flesh under his tongue, grazing his teeth over it.

Thor pushed him back to on the bed, wide palm coving his chest, giving a little growl before pressing his lips upon that sweet mouth once again. He tilted Loki’s head back, allowing him more room to explore.. His tongue slid against the tender roof of Loki’s mouth and Loki shuddered from the feel of it.

Thor released his mouth, tugging his top lip gently with his teeth, before shifting back to stare down at Loki, watching his face intently.

“Where is this apparent lack of control I have heard tell of?” Loki hissed, trying to keep his voice steady, but with a whine of need still cutting through.

“I just wanted to remember you like this, my prince,” Thor muttered, before bowing his head to trail kisses along Loki’s jaw. “Never have you looked more beautiful.”

Loki gave a happy sigh as he turned his head to allow Thor’s eager mouth more room.. “Your words are so pretty, slave,” Loki gasped - Thor bit into his shoulder at ”slave” - “you should give them more freely in the future.”

Thor gave a grunt, a small display of defiance that made Loki grin, before pressing his thigh in between Loki’s slim legs.

“Though it could be argued actions are greater than words,” Loki gasped out, rutting against him shamelessly, the pressure between his thighs glorious against his painfully hard cock..

He was almost so lost in the haze of pleasure that he didn’t notice Thor’s hands smoothing up his thighs to lift up his tunic inch by inch. He stilled his hips and Thor’s hands brushed up his torso, pushing up the tunic painfully slowly, , gradually revealing more flushed blue flesh.

Thor threw the garment across the room, attention never wavering from drinking in Loki’s exposed form. Loki was skinny, unusually so for a Jotun, having none of his father’s or brothers’ massive bulk, and his ribs protruded though not grotesquely so. His stomach was a flat plane of faultless skin, the smooth transition to his sharp hipbones emphasised by the sloping markings there. His slit was just visible below his sack and his cock, which lay curved and heavy against his stomach was deep blue with a dark shade of purple at the weeping head. He was not yet at his fully-grown length as he still clung to the days of adolescence. He felt so small and delicate next to the hard stretches of rippling muscles that comprised Thor’s looming, golden form. Loki was almost breathless with arousal at how easy it would be for Thor to dominate him here; regardless that he was a prince and Thor a slave.

“Be careful with that tunic, it was one of my favourites!” Loki scolded, but it was only as something to do rather than just lay there and take Thor’s eyes roaming over him. He tried to glare through his embarrassment, pulling his thighs closer together to hide himself from Thor’s gaze.

“Don’t,” Thor said, gripping Loki’s knees and spreading his legs wide. Loki let him, shuddering at the order, letting out a little whine when he saw his cock jump at it.

After drinking in his fill of Loki’s spread body, Thor lifted one Loki’s calves, pressing a kiss to the bone of the ankle, then placed it gently back on the bed before doing did the same to the other. He smoothed his hands up Loki’s legs, over his thighs, tracing his shapely hips bones and up his flat stomach. He pressed two fingers to the moist folds between Loki’s splayed legs, parting them , and gently pressing down on Loki’s clit making the prince jump and let out a surprised whine.

“What are you doing?” Loki gasped out, fists gripping the sheets while Thor continued to tease that spot.

“You’ve never played with your cunt before, my prince?” Thor asked, his voice considerably deeper than before. Loki shook his head, long silky hair bunching under him.

“Then perhaps we should leave that for another night,” Thor murmured, removing his fingers and pressing a little kiss over the closed petals of flesh.

He continued his previous path, following the markings of Loki’s skin with his tongue pressing a kiss where they met and changed direction.

“So beautiful,” Thor whispered, and Loki rolled his eyes even though his stomach gave a little flip at his words. Thor paused when he came to the scar along Loki’s shoulder that he had forgotten to magic away, before pressing a delicate kiss over it and placing another tender one upon his lips.

Thor pressed down to completely to cover Loki’s body as he drew away from the kiss. Loki had not been wrong to think that Thor’s full weight onhim would be glorious. It restricted all of his movements as an attempt at squirming found out. Thor held Loki’s arms above his head in one massive hand so that he couldn’t touch him, and Loki groaned at how helpless he felt. All he could do was thrust his hips unashamedly against the material of Thor’s trousers to gain some friction on his cock, before Thor pressed down hard and even that was denied.

“Let me, let me…” Loki trailed off desperately. All he knew was that he wanted to come, and it felt so good having Thor surrounding him.

“There’s so much that I wish…” Thor trailed off, panting heavily. His hips gave a thrust against Loki’s and for the first time Loki realised that the pressure against his hip was Thor’s hard, pulsing cock.

“Oh god let me see it, let me see it,” Loki panted. “Let me see your cock.” The words felt so dirty and unused in his mouth that he giggled breathlessly at them.

For the first time since he grabbed Loki and laid him out on his bed, Thor looked hesitant.

“No please Thor do it don’t stop now. I need it.” Loki almost sobbed. He had never begged in his life but he had never wanted anything as much either.

Thor gave his forehead a little kiss and muttered, “Alright,” before fumbling with the ties of his breeches, still holding Loki’s wrist with one hand, and pulling out his cock. Loki gave a little gasp at the size of it. It was so much larger than when he had seen it before, thick and red, the head dark and shiny with precome. He watched in rapture as Thor fisted it a few times, pulling back the layer of skin over the head, shuddering from the feel of it.

“I want to…” Loki tried to shift his hands under Thor’s grip to reach out for it.

Thor’s grip tightened for a moment and Loki thought that he wouldn’t let go. But it eventually slackened, and Loki could reach down and grip his hot length.

“You’re so big,” he breathed mindlessly as he saw how his small hand could barely fit around Thor’s girth.

He glanced up at Thor’s face and saw his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Thank you, my prince.”

Loki gave him an experimental squeeze, and the mirth quickly dropped from his face. Loki gave him own far too sweet smile and gave a few more forgiving strokes, before realising one hand wouldn’t be enough and taking him in both.

From the awkward position of Thor looming over him, Loki was able to stroke him until Thor was thrusting his hips with his movements, panting against Loki’s neck.

“Stop,” he breathed out after a moment, prising Loki’s hands off him “If you continue I’m going to spill already. Let us do this instead.” He took hold of Loki’s hips, the span of his hands meaning his thumbs almost met each other, and ground his own down against Loki’s, their erections finally meeting.

Loki almost screamed at the feel of it for it was better than he could ever have imagined. Thor’s cock was like a searing hot brand on his skin, leaving wet trails of liquid as they moved together in a graceful rhythm. Loki clutched onto Thor’s thick neck and shoulders, burying his head in the crook of them, trying to cling on for as long as he could. But it was so quickly growing too much for him; the pressing heaviness of Thor finally upon him, his cock sliding slickly in the hollow of Thor’s hipbone, Thor muttering and panting in his ear. He let out a loud, desperate shout as he felt his climax coming, and Thor crashed their lips together, cutting off his cries as he came shuddering and bucking up against Thor’s incredible bulk, come splattering his own stomach.

Loki collapsed into a blissful afterglow, arms still weakly hanging around Thor’s neck as the other continued exploring his slack lips. He felt more relaxed and contented than he could ever remember being.

He watched lazily as Thor pulled back and drew Loki’s legs up to press them flat against his thin chest, keeping them in place with one hand. Loki was just about gather the energy to ask him what he was doing when Thor pressed against him, cock slipping between the tight crevice of his thighs and he began to thrust, his movement made slick by the wet release from Loki’s cunt.

Thor only needed to use him for a handful more thrusts before he gave a roar and came spurting thick, white ropes of come between Loki’s thighs and stomach, mingling with Loki’s own.

He pulled free from Loki and moved the prince’s legs down once he was done. He sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily. Loki dipped his fingers in the pools of come covering him, which were beginning to dribble down the ridges of the markings on his skin. He avoided his own, which was much runnier than Thor’s, and scooped a glob of it up with his fingers. It was tacky and smelled faintly strange. He dabbed a bit gingerly on his tongue. He scrunched his nose at the taste; it was bitter and had a curious texture.

He then caught Thor staring avidly at him, eyes following the movement of his tongue. Loki experimentally sucked his finger clean to see Thor’s reaction and thrilled as Thor groaned, spent cock giving a twitch.

He didn’t know what should be done now. He felt too boneless and exhausted to leave, but just laying here in the servant’s room seemed unacceptable. Now that he came to it, it felt surprisingly awkward to ask Thor to stay and hold him.

Thor shifted where he was to lie down on his side next to Loki. “That was wonderful; thank you my prince.” He spoke quietly with a fond tone Loki had to admit he was pleased to hear.

“Yes, it was most agreeable.” Loki said, not willing to admit how deeply satisfied he felt.

“Perhaps you could extend your generosity to staying here with me for the rest of the night?” Loki noted the slight smirk on Thor’s face that he was starting to see more frequently and he returned it with a smile of his own.

“I’m sure I can mange that.” He was surprised to find just how happy the thought of sleep beside Thor actually made him. He felt almost light headed with contentment. “But I will have to be cleaned first.” Thor gave a little bow of his head.

“Allow me my prince.” Then Thor lowered his head to Loki’s skin and began cleaning him in a most efficient manner.



The time that followed that was the most peaceful in King Laufey’s household that there had been for years. There were no pranks or tricks, the elder Laufey brothers were able to get far more work done, and Folkaðr seemed to look ten years younger without the worry lines etched on his face. There was no obviously discernible change in the youngest prince; he was still as vain and rude as ever, but his presence in the palace’s hall had reduced considerably and none could tell why.

He would spend most of the spare hours that used to be his time for mischief and trouble making alone in his quarters, with no company but his slave. It was known that the prince did like his solitude, but never usually for such long periods of time. No one was displeased with this, as the break in pranks was a great relief, but it was puzzling.

Most assumed it was the slave’s influence and when some servants finally caught the prince’s slave on a rare occasion that he was found without his master, they asked him what had changed in the prince to make him retire to his wing alone so frequently.

Thor simply smiled, something he was found to be doing much more of late, and told them that the prince had found something more enjoyable than mischief making to occupy his time.