Æsir Pride And Jötunn Brides

Thor breathes heavily as he makes his way back to his quarters, though his partner had long-since retired to them. No doubt he had already bathed, though the creature did not sweat through their practice, even when Thor was red in the face and gasping for his breaths.
Jötunn. Thor's new sparring partner is not, as has been for hundreds of years past, as he has always had and enjoyed, Asgardian: he is Jötunn. Sparring partner, brother not in blood, supposedly. To live side by side, to foster alliance.
It had been an idea of Odin and Laufey's – a way of playing trust, as it were. Balder, sweet Balder, is in Jötunheimr, at the mercy of whatever monster he is set with, and Thor has the misfortune of being paired with Loki.
They share quarters, and although their bed chambers are separate, the bath is to be shared, as is the private chamber between their rooms. Loki, son of Laufey, even looks freakish – his skin is a frosted blue, and over the flesh are yet darker lines. His eyes are red, horrifying, though one is distracted from his face by the fact that he wears so little.
It is as if he has no regard for proper dress, though one small mercy, Thor supposes, is that his chest is smooth: he lacks the disgusting ridges to be found on the flesh of so many of his skin.
"Clothe yourself." Thor snaps when, for the sixth time now in just over a week, he enters their rooms to see Loki - and this is a man he is to view as brother not in blood - curled in a chair, his fingers resting on his own pale lip as he concentrates on the book at his knees. He wears just a cloth around his waist, and beyond that all he wears are golden chains, trussed up as if he is some Jötunn whore.
Loki glances up from his book, blinking at Thor for a few moments, perplexed and wounded. Fakery. "Pardon me?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. His voice is smooth and low: his tongue is made of slick silver, Thor thinks, for he is well-liked despite his freakish look.
"You are in Asgard now, Jötunn." Thor says sharply. They ought kill all of these creatures - kill them like the vermin they are, and take back Balder from their clutches. What was his father thinking, trying to ally with these monsters? "You ought dress as custom dictates."
"This is what custom dictates, Thor." Loki says smoothly. His tongue may be crafted of silver, but Thor will not be fooled. "It merely has its roots in a culture different than your own. I might educate you in our dress, if you wish. The significance of-"
"Hold your tongue, Jötunn." Loki shuts his mouth with a click, glaring at the other man. His jaw is squared as he lets Thor speak on. "I will bathe." Thor says sharply, and he retreats from the room, into their shared bathroom - shared. Thor has not shared his chambers since he was a babe in arms left to sleep in his parents' room in a small cot - barring the occasional encounter, that is, though that hardly counts.
The ceremony had happened eight days previous: he, his father and mother, and a host of other Asgardian guests, had all travelled to Jötunheimr in order to complete the trade in a large domed hall, crafted of ice by the monsters there. Balder had crossed to the Jötnar as Loki had crossed to the Æsir, and what a tragedy.
And Balder is expected to find a wife among those savages, to foster better links!
Loki is to marry an Asgardian also, but Thor dreads to think who would be so unlucky as to be snared in the Frost Giant's trap.
He soaks back in his bathwater, enjoying the heat on his skin, and tries not to think of it. Sickening, such ideas are. This is a large tub, though, big enough easily for four men of Thor's size, and the taps are enchanted. Heat, or cold: both can be had at will: it is the only improvement he considers on his old quarters, before Loki had encroached on his life.
The door opens, and Thor lets out a sharp noise. "Loki!" He hisses, furious that the other man would dare interrupt his bath, and then he stops, and he stares.
The man before him does not look Jötunn. His skin is plain without its lines, the colour of sea pearls, and his hair has darkened to a harsher black, straight and pulled back behind his ears. His eyes are not red: instead, they are a blue-green mix, and Loki's lips are pink. The jewellery is gone, and instead of the shimmering cloth, a pair of leather trousers, Asgardian in their origin, hug his hips. His nipples are pink, and muscle is plain on his shirtless chest.
"I wish to do the best I can for Jötunheimr." Loki says, and he speaks seriously, his eyes meeting Thor's without worry. He looks- he looks good like this, as an Asgardian. It would not be difficult for a form such as this to win out over a monster's, true, but even looking at him Thor can recognize those features he has kept. It is strange, disconcerting - Loki wears new skin like one might wear a new dress. "Is it- Do you think it simpler, that I show myself as such?"
He is angry, Thor thinks. It shows in the stiffness and the clench of his pretty new jaw, the way he holds his hands. "You do not look so monstrous." Thor affirms, with a nod, and Loki's lip curls - Thor feels satisfaction, at that, and at how uncomfortable the other seems in the new skin.
"You laugh now. Think of your brother in my position - though, of course, he lacks seiðr with which to change his appearance." Thor snarls at the other man, and Loki smiles, but it is cold and devoid of warmth. He leaves Thor to his bath then, and when Thor pulls himself from the soapy water and enters the shared room, Loki is gone from their chambers.
"Good riddance." He mutters to himself. He reads for a time, and then retires to bed. He stays awake for a time, thinking of Balder at the tender mercies of those Frost Giants, freezing for the cold and fearing for his life.
Then he thinks of Loki, shirtless as he had been, and turns on his side, letting out a short cough. No. He will not allow such thoughts.
---
When he comes to the dining hall to break the night's fast, Loki is settled with his mother, and they speak quietly, seriously. Loki looks all but solemn, though Frigga is smiling warmly enough. She looks maternal with Loki - his new face, Thor thinks bitterly, has caused her to forget his heart.
What a mistake it was to allow this unfortunate creature into Asgard.
Loki has ties in his hair to keep it back from his face, and he wears Asgardian leathers of black and green and cold: he is neatly put together. One could almost believe him to be better than a Jötunn freak.
"Loki Laufeyson!" Odin booms, and Loki stands up from his table, flinching. Thor rolls his eyes - for Loki to feign such fear of his father is ridiculous, and it is an obvious act to anyone who can see it.
"Al- Allfather?" Loki says, uncertainly, and Odin stares at him for a few, drawn-out moments.
"This change is of your own decision?" He asks, waving his hand at the other's new form, and Loki looks down at his white hands before giving a small nod. He looks approving, Thor thinks, and the idea of Odin appreciating any action by Loki is not a happy one.
"Yes, Allfather." Odin lets out a grunt, and then walks away, leaving Loki to slowly sit down again. "Thor, good morning." He says when Thor settles at the table with the creature and Frigga, unwilling to leave his mother alone with Loki for any longer, lest he seduce her fears with his cunning words. "How did you sleep?"
"Where did you go last night?" Thor asks bluntly, ignoring the question and the polite greeting. He has no trust for Loki, and no wish for pleasantry; Frigga tuts at him for his lack of manners.
"He joined me in the library, Thor." She says, and Thor shoots her a tired look, but she offers no sympathy. "We spoke for a while, and then read together until he retired to bed. Come now, what will you two do today?"
"Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and I are travelling Westwards on horseback - we will picnic, perhaps fish for a while, and then return home by tomorrow." Frigga looks from Thor to Loki, who pauses for a moment, hiding behind the mug of water in his hands.
"I thought I might read." Loki says quietly. "There are many tomes here I would never have hope to access at home - our libraries differ vastly."
"Nonsense. You'll join Thor and his party." Frigga speaks firmly, and Loki and Thor look at her with the same expression of offence.
"Mother!" Thor says sharply, unwilling to have the outing ruined.
"Frigga, my lady, I assure you I am quite content with-" Although Loki tries to employ his ability to convince, her voice cuts through his immediately.
"It was not a suggestion." Loki squares his jaw, evidently uneasy with her word, and Thor growls, slamming his hand on the table.
"Very well." Loki says quietly. "But I have no horse-"
"We shall waste no horse: you'll ride behind me." Thor says, crossing his arms and looking at Loki with challenge plain on his features. If the Jötunn will come with them, then by no means shall he make it comfortable for him - he will learn of the ways of Asgard. "Like the woman you are."
"It is on days like these, Thor, I am ashamed to call you my son." Frigga speaks quietly, and Thor whips his head to stare at her for a moment, his heart sinking in his chest. She stands and moves away; Loki glances from her to him, and it is plain to Thor that a question burns on the monster's lips.
"What?" He barks, irritated at both the other's presence and at his mother's shame.
"Is that an insult on Asgard?" Loki asks, after a short pause. He looks honestly perplexed, and Thor cannot help but to curl his lip. "To be called woman? To be a woman? It is shameful?"
"What? No- no, it's not- women can be great warriors, and mothers. It is not shameful to be a woman." Thor says, waving his hand, and Loki looks no more certain that he had a moment before. Does he not know of such obvious things?
"Then why phrase it like that? "Like the woman you are.", you said. What does that mean?" Loki asks.
"You know very well what it means." Thor says derisively, and he grabs a piece of toast, taking large bites.
"Do you dislike women?" Loki asks, after another stretch of silence Thor wishes had stretched even further. Loki's too-pleasant tones are beginning to grate heavily on his patience.
"Don't be stupid, Loki. Of course I do not." Thor has no idea how to explain the meaning of his insult - the weak among them, young children, the elderly, the pregnant women, ride with others on a horse. And, of course, a wife so often lets her husband take the reins. Loki looks utterly perplexed, and Thor has no wish to continue the conversation. "I will gather my friends. Pack yourself a bag, and meet us at the stables. If you are not there in fifteen minutes, we will go without you, my mother's wish be damned."
Somewhat to Thor's disappointment, Loki is there ready when they arrive, and his hands are gentle on Mjeif's muzzle. How he knew which horse was Thor's, Thor does not know, but now he sees the trickster's lips move as he speaks quietly to the horse.
"Loki." Hogun says, catching his attention, and he gives an immediate, polite bow that Loki returns. "My name is Hogun."
"Hogun." Loki repeats. Fandral strides forwards, and he puts his arm out ready. Loki hesitates for just a second before he puts his own out, mimicking Fandral's action, and they grasp each other's forearms. Thor realizes, with a snort, this is probably the first time Loki has met someone in such a way.
"Fandral am I." He purrs, and Loki nods. Still polite, still quiet. Thor could believe him innocent if he trusted the man at all.
"I am the Lady Sif." Sif speaks readily, and Loki offers her his hand, but she doesn't take it - Volstagg grabs it instead, friendly, and Loki lets out a short, shocked sound as the larger man pulls him impulsively into a greeting hug, patting him hard enough on the back to force a cough out of him.
"And I, Volstagg!" He thunders, and Loki glances up at him, laughing a little for the sake of shock, perhaps. He looks good when he laughs in this form: it is too bad it is wasted on a son of Laufey.
"I am Loki Laufeyson, of Jötunheimr." Loki says, and he looks to the Lady Sif. "I-" He looks at her uncertainly, with a small frown. His gaze is not impolite, and he keeps it to her face before glancing to the others in their party.
"What?" She asks sharply, the good-natured smile fading from her features as he peers at her.
"You are permitted to travel with us? As a woman?" Sif has him by the throat in a moment, and Loki chokes around her hand.
"You have issues with women in your party?" Loki gasps in a breath, loosely putting his hand about her wrist. His fingers are slender, and the pale of them contrasts well against the tanned flesh of her bare arms.
"N-no, he does-" Loki splutters out, and when she lets him go he drops, resting his hand on his knee to take in slow breaths. His head is bowed and his hair has been taken from his ties, so Thor cannot see his face.
"What do you mean?" Sif asks, having followed Loki's accusatory point at his supposed new brother not in blood. "What does he mean?"
"I merely made a single comment-" Thor begins.
"About women?" Sif asks, and she crosses her arms. "Repeat the comment." Thor shifts his jaw, knowing all too well that Sif will appreciate it not at all.
"There is no reason for me to do so, my lady Sif, you know I have the greatest of-"
"Repeat. The. Comment." Sif growls another interruption, and Loki watches her with respect evident on his features. Thor lets out a harsh sigh, feeling the warriors' eyes on him.
"I said he would have no horse for him to waste, and that he ought ride behind me, like the woman he is." Hogun pinches the bridge of his nose, and Fandral and Volstagg laugh at him as Sif just shakes her head. She turns away from him, and looks to Loki instead.
"You may ride Aeojan, Loki." Sif says, tone disapproving. "He will carry you well."
"My thanks, my lady Sif." Loki says. The Warriors Four make their way to the stable, and Loki turns to look at Thor with a small smirk on his face: his words are a whisper, but it makes them no less infuriating. "If I might make a suggestion, Thor: learn to hold your tongue." Thor stares after the Frost Giant as he moves inside, a snarl on his face.
Jötunn bastard.
---
Loki rides well. Thor had half-expected to hear complaints from him, but no such words had come; he had ridden in silence until Hogun had said, in a casual tone, "To whence has your old skin gone?"
"I wish to to do the best for my people." Loki answers, and he raises his head high. Thor is silent as he listens to the conversation, wondering how much of what Loki says is true, and which is yet more falsehood. "In showing myself as non-threatening, I think hostility will be reduced. For a time: I shall not remain in this form forever."
Hogun nods his head, stoic as he so often is, and then Loki says, "You think this is the wrong path to tread?"
"I think it is a well-reasoned path." Hogun says, as grimly as he ever speaks. "The people of Asgard, of any kingdom, fear change." Bitterness seems to taint his tone, but Thor makes no comment, unwilling to yet interrupt.
"But when I marry, and my spouse is Asgardian, we will stand together. It will be sufficient to temper the fears of the people, I believe." Loki looks ahead, to Sif, and then his head turns. He meets Thor's eyes, and he smiles.
"What woman of the people would care to marry you?" Thor asks stiffly, and Volstagg and Fandral each snort at the jibe, though Hogun's smile seems forced enough.
"I assure you, Thor, even in my time here men and women alike have turned their heads as I passed." Loki says, confidently, yet not arrogantly. "I will find someone."
"Or someone will find you." says the lady Sif smoothly, and Thor looks to her back where she rides ahead before shooting Loki a glare. Sif is a woman of glorious stature, of beauty, of charm. The idea of her being interested in Loki, son of Laufey, is one discomfiting.
They come soon enough to the clearing close to the lake, and Loki slips from his horse, stroking his muzzle gently. It is a wide clearing and light grass and daisies carpet the floor. Each of them settles, beginning to unpack their mats to sleep.
"Fond of horses, are you, lad?" Fandral asks, and he pats Loki hard on the back, affecting the Jötunn to flinch and glare for the unexpected touch.
"You are not?" He asks, and Fandral shrugs. He is a seducer in all actions, and Thor notices when he tips his body toward the Jötunn's, his chest pushing out some, his stance widening. His hands go to his own hips.
"I care little for horses. For people, though-" He stands forwards, until he and Loki stand a bare three inches apart, their noses almost touching, their mouths close. No doubt Loki can taste Fandral's cologne on his tongue. "I have fondness for all people."
"Is that so?" Loki chuckles, and yes, again Thor thinks he looks good when expressing such amusement. The thought is an errant one, and he pushes it aside. "I note your fondness has been obvious only once my skin has paled to this." Loki returns, and he turns away. Fandral is left staring after him for a moment, and Volstagg starts laughing, the sound joyful enough.
"Come then, fair Giant of Frost, is it so that your people fish with their bare hands?" He says as Fandral steps away, pride visibly wounded. No doubt it will not be the first time he attempts to seduce the Frost Giant, but it will be the last time he tries today.
"It is so that my people fish and hunt with our hands." Loki says, beginning to lay out his own pack. "You will see."
"Oh, will I?" Volstagg asks, amused. He is older than the rest of them, and the way he looks at Loki is as a man might look at an arrogant child. Thor has to suppress a chuckle at the thought.
"Unless you would rather I do not participate?" Loki stands, and he turns, crossing his arms and regarding Volstagg with a small quirk of his lips. "If it is to be a competition, after all, and you wish to have an easy time of it-"
"I have no need of an easy time, boy!" Volstagg thunders, and then he pulls Loki in close, an arm around his shoulders as he roughly plays through the smaller man's hair. "Win shall I of my own strengths!" He is a boastful man, Volstagg.
"And if you do not?" Loki asks, though his question is fairly muffled against the meat of the larger man's side. He tries to struggle free, for Volstagg holds him roughly.
"If I do not? Ha, t'is not a thought!" Volstagg laughs, but his grip about the other's shoulder loosens quickly enough.
"But if you do not?" Loki repeats his query stiffly, and the challenge in his voice is plain as he carefully extricates himself, fixing his hair. Fastidious he is about his locks, it seems - he carefully combs through the black with his fingers, putting it back into place.
"Then he shall cry himself to sleep tonight." Sif says plainly, and Loki and Fandral both laugh. Thor busies himself with his pack, listening carefully. It is good to hear the banter, good to see his friends laughing, but he has no trust for the Jötunn yet. He is not to be trusted, Thor thinks, too cunning, too sharp. Hogun is nowhere to be seen - he has gone for water, Thor imagines.
"If it is a wager you wish for, Jötunn, then name your prize." Loki thinks for a moment, and then he smiles.
"You are known as the Lion of Asgard, is that not so?" Loki asks, and he looks up at the other man. All of them are watching, listening to hear Loki's wager - of all things, Volstagg is skilled when it comes to the hunt and to fishing. His tone is almost lilting, admiring.
"That is so." Volstagg agrees proudly, and he crosses his arms. Loki grins.
"Then if I am to win, I shall ride your shoulders into Asgard. A lion is a steed worthy for a princeling, no?" Loki raises an eyebrow, and Fandral hides his snort behind his hand. Sif chuckles herself, and even Thor laughs despite himself. It is a ready challenge.
"Why, you little-" The man snaps, and his shoulders come up – he would come to blows with the Frost Giant, if he were allowed.
"You asked for his price, Volstagg." Hogun says sharply as he appears from the side – he carries his bucket in one hand, and wood for a fire in the other. Volstagg stands down, lowering his clenched fists. "He gave it."
"And if you lose, what is my boon to be?" Volstagg asks. Loki gives a mocking bow, waving his hand widely.
"Take your pick, o mighty warrior." He says easily, with a smile that one could view as innocent if one did not know better.
"Fine. If I win tonight, then you shall run naked through the streets of Asgard, wearing only sandals for the sake of your poor little feet." Volstagg returns, and he grins down at him. "In your true form, of course. How will the people learn not to fear you, if they cannot see you as they do us?"
"Do your people see you often nude?" Loki asks mockingly, and it is Hogun who cuffs him upside the head as he snorts. He rubs at the back of his head, but his good mood is easy enough still, and he follows Hogun to assist him in building the fire.
"They see him nude more often than they might like." Fandral says, and he makes a tipping motion with his hand, mimicking a flagon of mead.
"Do you accept the wager, Loki, son of Laufey, or are you too afraid?" Volstagg asks, cutting off Fandral before he can go further in his mockery.
"Afraid I am not." Loki says, and he spreads his hands, offering a small smile. "My friend, I shall take your wager readily."
---
"Will he ever speak to me again?" Loki asks Hogun as they ride back, and several of his fish hang smoked from the side of his horse, yet to be eaten.
"He considers your use of seiðr a trick." Hogun says simply, though with no judgement in his own tone. He and Loki get on better than Thor might have imagined, and he wonders if it is due to their both being not of Asgard.
"My hands were bare." Loki points out, not unreasonably.
"Yes." Hogun agrees. "Still, he will sulk."
Volstagg is sulking, hunkered down on his horse and making the barest of conversation with Fandral and Sif as they ride. Thor leads the party, and personally, he believes the wager well-won. All the same, he finds the use of the other's magic, easy as it had been for him, a worry heavy on his mind- Thor's mother can craft illusions effortlessly, but Loki had made magic look like music on the air as he'd caught fish after fish.
They had flown from the air as if carried on the wind, sometimes several at a time, and Volstagg had had no hope at all.
Loki had put back more fish than Volstagg had managed to catch, with line, net or spear. The idea of Loki's power had not struck Thor until seeing the magic in action; he had underestimated him before now.
In sparring, they had fought with Loki's sword, a thin rapier-like weapon with frosted gems about its hilt, and with daggers. He had used neither magic nor larger weaponry, and yet he and Thor had been evenly matched.
Thor wonders if he were holding back with him, and frowns.
Loki settles on one of Volstagg's wide shoulders as they come into the city, and on all sides people laugh and cheer and push one jibe or compliment from their lips. By the time they reach the palace, Volstagg's flushed cheeks have faded, and grudgingly he offers Loki a hand.
"A challenge well-met." Loki grins at him, and he shakes the other's hand quickly – Thor can see the beginnings of mischief in the older man's eyes, but Frigga appears, and Volstagg so releases Loki's hand immediately. There will be times later on for him to play his jokes.
"My lady Frigga." Loki says politely, and he gives a small bow. The Warriors Four do the same. A motley group are they, Thor thinks.
"Mother." Thor greets her warmly enough, and Frigga looks between Loki and Thor, thoughtful. "How have you fared in our absence?"
"I have muddled through, my son, though of course my heart was in pieces for your momentary absence." His mother speaks fondly, and she looks at Thor with affection plain on her features even as she teases him: Thor grins. "I have heard tell of a Frost Giant riding the shoulders of one mighty warrior." Frigga says, and Loki turns to the others and he smiles, as if he is one of them. As if he has always been one of them.
Thor's cheer fades some, and he feels nauseated.
---
"You do not trust Loki." Sif says as they walk over an outside balcony, an easy amble to settle the stomach after dinner. It is not rare that they walk together, to make quiet talk.
"No." Thor agrees. "I worry for his plans, as I worry for Balder in their lands. He is not to be trusted."
"We have an alliance with Jötunheimr now, for the sake of Loki's sacrifice and his." Thor huffs, shaking his head. He would hardly call it a sacrifice on Loki's part, in truth.
"So easily these alliances could turn ill." He says, and Sif nods her head. They stand together, elbows on the balcony's wall, and they look over the city below. "My mother enjoys his company. My father- He is more distant. This is safer, I think." Although he says the words, he remembers Odin's approval of Loki's new form.
"To whom will he marry, do you think?" Sif asks, and Thor shrugs his shoulders. He considers the idea of Sif marrying Loki, and presses his lips together. She is close to his heart, and he would hate to see her saddled with such a man. "Fandral, perhaps." Thor laughs at the thought, and Sif chuckles herself.
"I am to spar some with Loki tomorrow." Thor says, and it is true, though both are tired from riding home.
"Does he offer you challenge?" She queries, the curiosity plain on her features. "I had witness to you the other day, but you were cooling down at the time."
"He does, though now I fear he has held back with me. I did not know of his skill with magic beyond illusion until yesterday: I will question this tomorrow." Sif nods her approval, and for a time longer, they sit in silence. Thor appreciates that she will allow him space to think in times such as these.
---
It is hot that day. When Thor rises, Loki is nowhere to be seen, and he does not come to breakfast. "To whence has the son of Laufey gone?" He asks as he breaks bread, and his father looks to him with a frown. "You do not know?"
"I did not know him missing." Odin says gruffly, and his shoulders square. Suspicion is immediate on his features, but then Frigga arrives, settling beside him. "Where is the boy?"
"He is unwell." Frigga says, and says nothing more. They eat breakfast, but even through easier conversation Thor thinks of the son of Laufey, and he frowns even as he walks back to their quarters. He will spar as he usually does, then, with Fandral, with Volstagg, or other of his friends.
"Thor?" Loki's voice comes weakly from the bathroom, and when Thor looks through the open door, his illusion is dropped: a blue monster rests in the bath, ice melting in the water with him. Thor stares at him for a moment or two, frowning.
"Loki." The Jötunn sinks further into the water, discomfort evident on his features. "Mother says you are unwell."
"I am unwell." He agrees. Thor watches him for a few seconds, expectant, and Loki adds in a grudging tone, "I am at the menstrual point of my cycle. I have pains, and on top of the heat, it is too much for me to carry the Asgardian illusion. By my next, I'm certain I will be able to do it more naturally, though for now, I cannot."
Thor blinks at him, wondering if language is somehow different amongst the Jötunn people. "Your menstrual point?" He repeats, and Loki's cheeks flush a deep purple (a part of Thor that Thor does not wish to consider finds that slight flush very attractive indeed).
"Your mother has educated you in these matters?" Loki speaks uneasily, pulling a face as he looks at Thor. He is vulnerable like this, naked and hiding in his cold bath water, and yet Thor feels no triumph, no superiority. It is- upsetting, almost, to see him hiding such from Thor. "We- there are painful cramps, and we bleed, and-"
"Women bleed. You are a man."
"I am not." Loki says firmly, looking somewhat nonplussed by the other's statement. "I allow the common usage of the term for the sake of your people understanding me better, but I am not a man, Thor. We do not have this in Jötunheimr - there are people, and some are he, and some are she, and others change, and others are outside this idea." What ridiculous things to say.
"You've a cock, no? A man has a cock, a woman a cunt - it is simple." Thor snaps, irritated by the other's nonsense talk, and Loki just stares at him, as if Thor is the idiot between them. Loki stands, then, and he crosses his arms as Thor's gaze is drawn between his legs.
The Jötunn has a cunny. It is blue as the rest of him, the labia darker than the sweet, sky blue entrance between; above rests a cock, soft and hanging lower. Thor sees no balls, though Loki's length is not unimpressive.
"As I say." Loki says. "Your binary applies not to us - physically or mentally. I am he because I like he. But easily," Loki's appearance changes: he becomes taller, and his chest fills out, forming breasts, his hips widening, more fat appearing on his thighs and his belly. His lips darken to a sweet purple, his eyes becoming slightly bigger, his face rounding. "I can present myself differently."
He winces, clutching at his belly, and his body fades back to its previous shape as he sinks into the cold water again. No doubt it soothes him as hot water soothes the pains of his mother, and Thor leaves the bathroom rapidly, uncertain what to say, how to speak. He has most certainly stepped out of place.
"My son." Frigga says when she sees him in the hall. "Where are you going?"
"The kitchens, Mother." Thor says quietly, and she walks with him as they move down the long corridor. "I did not know of- I thought Loki a man as I am."
"Ah. No. Loki is not, as we would call him, man or woman. Most of the Jötunn people are not." Frigga murmurs. "Your father did not think it relevant to your discussions in the past. It is easier not to get into: they are different to us in many ways, and that is one of the more confusing differences to define."
"Mm." Thor says, and he begins to heat water over the enchanted counter top, watching it bubble as he retrieves some of Loki's salmon and begins to cut it into pieces and set it on a plate. His mouth is dry, and he thinks only of what lies between Loki's legs, and he thinks of tracing those foreign parts with his tongue, his hands. No longer does he have the strength to push those thoughts away. "Will he bear children, or will he sire them?"
"To my awareness, Jötunn people built as he is can do both." Frigga says quietly. Thor thinks of kneeling between the Jötunn's legs and affecting him to gasp and cry under his mouth, and he oughtn't be thinking of it. He does not trust the Frost Giant, and yet, and yet.
"I did not know." Thor says again, and Frigga grasps at his arm, pulling him back from the counter to hug him, her hands stroking over his shoulders.
"I know, my son." She comforts him, hand stroking over his arm as she draws from the embrace. "You said something rash?"
"Yes. But he shall forgive me, Mother." Thor assures her, and with the plate and the steaming mug of mint tea, he begins to climb the stares. Loki is dozing in his water when Thor comes, and Thor grasps a stool from their shared room, putting the plate of salmon and the mug on it.
With that, he retrieves more ice, and begins to pour it into the bath. Loki's eyes open, and he looks at Thor with their red irises, asking tiredly, in a dull voice, "What are you doing?" There is no sneak to that voice, no clever mockery. Loki is not in the state for such things, it seems.
"My-" Thor shifts on his feet, adjusting his stance as he meets the other's gaze. "My apologies for my tone, before. I am adding ice to your bath water. Eat the salmon, and the tea. They will help with your pains." Loki looks at the plate and the mug drowsily, and then to Thor, seemingly for an explanation. "Balder and I used to wait on my mother, when her time came. Her pains are no longer so terrible these days, of course."
"Oh." Loki says, and Thor moves to leave. "My thanks." comes Loki's voice, not too loud, and Thor nods before bowing out of the room.
It is not appropriate. It's not appropriate in the least, but he thinks of Loki's weakness, thinks of Loki sprawled in his bed with his legs spread, thinks of fucking Loki face to face, of pinning the Jötunn on his belly and having his arse, his cunt, from behind, of biting at those blue lines and watching a bruise form on the skin.
Loki would be too weak to play and wrestle and fight, and would crumple under Thor's touch, allowing the other to pleasure him as he wished, take him as he wished: he could only take what Thor gave him, and when they were done he would be left exhausted.
Thor quickly finishes himself by his own hand, and takes himself outside, to spar with Fandral, or Sif, or one of the others. He throws himself into his training, but even still he thinks of the Frost Giant. When he arrives back, Loki is asleep in their shared quarters, a book half clasped in his hands.
He wears his old clothes, his cloth about his hips, but with no jewellery. Thor watches him for a moment. He has seiðr, and could have enchanted Thor, which would explain the feelings- but no, his mother would have noticed that.
He wants to fuck the Jötunn, wants to feel him clench around Thor's cock. He has made his apologies - perhaps he might seduce Loki, at some point or other. Hardly a declaration of trust - merely a wish to be sated, as Fandral's. Yes.
"Thor?" Loki asks, and his eyes open: he looks at Thor with fatigue obvious on his face. His physiognomy, like this, is different, and yet Thor can imagine what the expression would look like in his new skin too.
"Your pains have subsided?" Thor speaks perfunctorily, as if he does not feel a little guilty.
"Some." Loki says quietly, and then he stretches, letting out a yawn. His limbs look good as they move so, and he wishes to partake of that body.
"Is your mo-" Thor stops himself. "Are your parents' this bad?" Loki glances up at Thor, his lips parted, his gaze soft. Thor finds himself wishing to bite at his neck, have him forcefully - why had he not thought of this earlier? Why had he pushed those thoughts of sex aside? The idea is intoxicating, now, the thought of the other prince at is mercy, arching up against his body.
"I don't know." Loki says quietly.
"You do not know?" Thor repeats, and he blinks at Loki, frowning. "Is it shameful, among your people, to discuss these things?"
"No." Loki says quietly, with an uneasy shrug. "My parents surely discuss them - but not with me. Surely you realize why they sent me here, and not one of my brothers? I was a runt, a thing they kept out of pity. That I am here is because they wished not to have me."
Thor stares at him. Intermingling with the fantasy of impaling the other on his cock, and stroking him until he cries, is another of pressing his body to Loki's and holding the other safe in his arms.
Perhaps Thor is enchanted. How bewitching sudden infatuation can be.
"You are of regular size." Thor states, but Loki shakes his head.
"For an Asgardian." Loki points out, and then his eyes close, and he lies on his side, curling into a ball. "I shall see you tomorrow." He murmurs, and Thor leaves him be.
---
After three days, Loki is as right as rain. He regularly moves through Asgard now, speaking in villages, in the city. He has a fondness for children, and a dislike for blacksmiths, from what Thor gathers. And the people grow fonder of him, as time goes past. Day after day, he moves through the square, or through the city.
Regularly he will enchant one toy or another for the love of the children in the square, and he will watch them play with a fondness almost tender, but with adults his gaze is never so soft.
And it is the nights that Thor watches as carefully as possible: it is the nights when Loki will leave a tavern with a woman or a man at his side, and Thor considers them biting at his neck, taking his cock or his cunt, and he wants.
He is a trickster, but not one that is hated. He plays pranks, plays games, and is an illusionist: it is strange, to see the Jötunn become more at ease with making these things clear; he has clever hands and is speedy, is as strong as an ox despite being slim.
"I wish you would not hold yourself back in spars." Thor says to Loki one morning, who snorts. "I wish I could hold you down and fuck you here to show a win." goes unsaid.
"I should like to keep you alive, brother." He says, the latter word sliding affectionately from his silver tongue. "And so do I hold myself back." So he does; Thor wishes to test himself, but Loki will not allow him the barest chance.
"You do not know that I could not hold my own." Thor insists, but Loki laughs.
"I do." comes the Jötunn's easy voice, as it has again and again. He is so certain of it.
Each time they spar now, several times a week, the ante is raised somewhat, but not enough to Thor's satisfaction. Loki will use his seiðr now, creating illusions of himself in order to trick Thor into lunging, or to trip him with his own cape.
Thor does not wear the cape any more, and he is becoming more cautious in his fights - this is good. But each time, he is left panting, and Loki's fatigue feels faked, looks feigned.
"Do not go so easily on me!" Thor will say, and Loki will laugh, and he will incorporate a new weapon, or a new trick, but even still it is not what Thor is certain he is capable of. Even still, he holds back.
Thor's pride takes the battering, if only because they are brothers not in blood. He hates it all the same, hates that the other thinks him any sort of weak.
"Is it customary for Jötnar to go so easily on their sparring partners?" Thor booms one evening, and he is cheerful despite the words. They are each a little drunk, walking back from the tavern nearest the palace, and Thor leans heavily on the slimmer's shoulders.
"When their partners are delicate flowers such as you." Loki returns, and he reaches up, pinching the other's cheek until Thor slaps his hand away. "In truth, Thor, I am not holding back. You merely have fantasies as to my abilities, it seems." Lies. Lies from the mouth of Loki Silvertongue.
"Then for what reason do you never fatigue?" Thor says cleverly.
"Do you worry for your stamina, Odinson?" Loki teases, and when he laughs, his music is like the peal of bells.
"Not at all: many a time I've been assured of it." Thor returns, and his tone is laden with innuendo. Loki chuckles. Months he has been here now; Thor is lowering his guard, not because he trusts the other, but because if Loki were to try something, he would have already.
"Well, I can assure you: my own is impressive also." Thor watches after him as he goes, and then he grasps Loki by the wrist, pulling him back. He pulls the Jötunn into an alcove in the wall, crowding him against the corner of it. Loki immediately is stiff, his breath speeding some: their mouths are close together.
"How impressive?" Thor asks, and Loki swallows.
"Release me." He says stiffly, and Thor does immediately, stepping back, his hands spreading. His eyes are wide, and for a moment he is terrified he has gone too far.
"I- I am sorry, Loki, I meant no intimidation - I merely wished to-"
"Hush." Loki's hand is on his throat, the grip tight, and Thor stares at him, feeling it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. "I take no offence to your interest, Thor." He draws out the "th" sound, and Thor finds himself suddenly all the more fascinated by the other's body, the strength in those slender hands. "I merely wish to make it clear: I am no tavern wench. I will not bend over for you, as you please."
His consonants are clipped, his vowels plain on the movement of his pink lips - Thor considers those lips wrapped around his cock, in pink or in blue.
"I will make you bend over then." Thor says, and for the sake of the grip around his neck, the words are hoarse. Loki chuckles, and he lets him go: Thor knows without looking that the ghost of the Jötunn hand is on his flesh marked in red, and he feels a sense of satisfaction.
"I should like to see you try." Loki murmurs, and his glance flits from Thor's eyes down to his lips before he walks away. His hips shift as he moves, his shoulders broad - Thor imagines taking those shoulders and pinning them down.
Thor grins, and the expression is vicious.
---
He times it perfectly. He excuses himself from dinner, and he ensures that when Loki returns he is sprawled on the sofa of their shared quarters, hand wrapped around his own thick length as he arches his back.
"Loki-" He grunts under his breath, for show, his eyes closed, his word breathless.
The door closes, and when Thor opens his eyes, Loki stands, watching him. He looks-
Unimpressed.
Thor stands, and he makes his way forwards. "You do not like what you see before you?"
"Passable." Loki murmurs, with a small shrug. "Nothing remarkable." Thor stares at him, mildly offended. His body is the Asgardian ideal, muscled, tanned, and all his scars are from honourable battle.
"I wish for a boon of you." Thor says confidently, squaring his shoulders.
"A boon? Name it." Loki speaks with suspicion laden on his tongue, his eyes narrowing just a little.
"Make use of your magic not at all tonight." Thor's challenge slips from his mouth, and Loki looks as angry as he expected the Jötunn would.
"For what reason?" Loki speaks sharply, evidently affronted.
"T'is the boon for which I asked: do you grant it?" Loki stares at him, distrust obvious on his every feature, but after a pause, he speaks again.
"I grant it." Loki says reluctantly, and then Thor is on him. His broad hands are rapid on the other's clothes, and the cloth is torn under Thor's grip and thrown aside - he is glad the other did not wear his armour tonight. "Too scared to seduce me with my magic intact?" Loki asks dryly, but he kicks off his boots.
Thor laughs in his face, and when he does he sees Loki shiver, though he tries to hide the tremble. "Come now, Loki - surely you have strength enough?" Loki moves to dodge but Thor grabs him by the throat, and pulls him back, and their lips almost brush together at the force of the pull. "I want to fuck you." Thor says softly, the words coming over Loki's lips.
"Then I suggest you not tarry about it." Loki retorts, and Thor's mouth in on his. Loki does not allow him to dominate the kiss: they each press against the other with matching viciousness, and Loki's hands are rough on Thor's body, digging into his arms, into the flesh of his arse, his back.
"I will have you in every hole tonight, Jötunn." Thor growls in his ear, and then he puts his hand in Loki's hair, dragging him into his own room, and ignoring Loki's own. Loki lets out a loud, drawn out moan at the pull on his follicles, and Thor bites hard at his neck, enjoying the way the other arches. "I will fuck you full, and you will scream for more like the slut you are."
"So many words, good Thor, and yet I feel no true touch on me yet." Loki bites out, lying back with his legs spread.
Thor brings his hand down on the other's cunt in a smack, spanking the bared flesh, and Loki cries out, eyes closing tightly as he arches and his cock jumps for the blow. He shakes, breathing heavily, and Thor says, "Is that touch enough for you?" Loki does not reply, because Thor presses his hand there again, stroking what he finds: Loki's cock, swiftly becoming hard against his belly, the entrance between, pink and beginning to widen and become slick.
He will have the other like this tonight, but tomorrow, he will have Loki in his true form, feel the cold on his cock as he takes what he wishes. "You wish for me to plunder you as I wish, do you not? No other man could take you as I could."
"Men like you are easy to find." Loki says, and then Thor dips, dragging his tongue over the spread of Loki's entrance, affecting him to gasp. "And easier to take."
"You've taken men like me before?" Thor drags his tongue over a finger and then he pushes it forwards - Loki's cunny is not yet properly prepared, but it is slick enough for one finger only. Loki lets out a grunt and then takes in a quiet, sharp gasp. "Yes, that is evident. Fine, then." Thor flips Loki onto his belly. "I'll take you like the bitch you are, from behind."
"That makes you a dirty hound, then?" Loki asks as Thor stands in search of oil, and the laugh Thor barks out is loud.
"When you feel my cock in you, Loki, you will wish I was a hound." He promises, and again, his arrogance is plain but Loki seems to delight in it, all but trembling in his place.
"No doubt." Loki returns. "I might feel a hound in me - you, well, it is uncertain." Thor slicks two fingers properly once the oil is retrieved, and then he presses them inside Loki's arse, pushes them in hard and fast. Loki's next breath is forced out of him, and Thor brings his other hand down in a sharp smack on the other's buttock.
"Do you feel that?" Thor asks, and he does it again.
"I do, in fact." Loki says, though it is through gritted teeth: he speaks through effort. Thor thrusts a third finger forwards, and Loki is tight around him, tight and clenching hotly about the invading digits.
"Good." Thor murmurs. He scissors the fingers, and Loki cries out, thighs spreading further apart.
"Come then." Loki says. "You shall have me this way, and then spank me."
"Then your cunt." Thor says, but Loki huffs out a noise.
"Wash yourself first, and I shall allow it." Loki lets out a sharp cry as he is lifted by the hair, and Thor's other hand leaves his arse to grasp at his thigh, lining him up on Thor's newly slicked cock.
"You will allow it? I do not believe you are in the state to be allowing things, brother mine." Thor's words come hot against the other's ear, and no doubt his breath tickles. Loki is gasping, suspended as he is, and try as he might he cannot control his breathing to look better dignified.
"Fuck me." Loki says sharply, an order, and Thor laughs against his neck. "Thor, now."
"Whore." Thor murmurs, and he begins to rub his cock over the folds of the other's cunt instead, teasing the wetness beginning there: the noise Loki lets out is pitiful. "I'll have you six times over tonight, Loki have you again and again, 'til your belly is swollen with such spend one might think you already pregnant, 'til you leak from every hole."
"All words, again, I wish for a-agh-" Loki is interrupted by Thor dropping him down. Loki takes Thor's cock in his arse all in one stretch, and he lets out a groan, clenching tightly around Thor and tipping his head back.
With that, he throws Loki down on the bed, and he begins to fuck Loki, pin his face down to the bed as he snaps his hips again and again, taking the other hard. Loki clenches tight around him, and he wriggles something perfect, gasps and moans and digs his nails into the sheets beneath the both of them. Thor can feel the juices from his cunt drip down against his balls, and yes, yes, it is good to have the other prince this way.
He chases his orgasm, chases it as he can, and when he comes he feel his cock pulse: indeed, he does fill the other some, and when he pulls back Loki's hole leaks, obscenely, and Thor says, "I shall run a bath, then. From there, I shall have your mouth, and then your cunt, and then your mouth again."
"If you think you can handle it." Loki says, and Thor lifts him, dragging him to the bathroom. He sets the taps to work, and then he pulls Loki over his lap: Loki is all but boneless, but he manages to grin up at Thor.
"I can." Thor says. "Can you?"
"Oh, yes." Loki whispers. "I am here to make Jötunheimr proud, am I not? And tomorrow, I shall make true on your requests, Thor: I shall not hold back with you." The vow sends a shiver through him.
"Turnabout is fair play, I suppose." Thor says teasingly, and he tries not to be obvious about how exciting the idea of this creature dominating him is.
"Oh, yes." Loki murmurs, and he pushes himself up, straddling Thor's lap before pressing his lips to Thor's, kissing him hard. "I do believe it is."
And oh, Thor thinks, as he flips the other down again, across his lap for a spanking like a child told off. He really ought have begun this when Loki had arrived.

Notes