Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Magne's head is spinning. And not because he hit it on the ceiling (that isn't that unusual an occurrence, unfortunately). There's a charge in the air right now, and it's not from the lightning strike. It's more akin to the feeling he had at the end of the dinner party in Jutulheim. He'd been drunk then. He's sober now.

But he can't give in to that urge to run. For one thing, his mother is downstairs. If there is any danger, he can't leave her in it. And for another – the one he'd be running from is his little brother. Laurits can be a pain in the ass with his pranks, but they've always looked out for one another. If what he thinks just happened is correct, if somehow a god awakened in his brother, too -- then he can't leave Laurits to figure it out for himself either. Magne had a hard enough time of it. He can't do that to Laurits.

"I'd better start at the beginning," he says. He sits down on his bed, his back against the headboard. Laurits sits at the foot of the bed. Magne had sat this way with Gry several times. She had never believed him. Hopefully Laurits will be more receptive. "Do you remember when we came to Edda?"

He tells the whole story, with as much detail as he can remember. Not just the events, but his feelings, and, most importantly, the frequent moments of confusion and the slow process of figuring it all out. It's a shame his phone still lies in a locker in school somewhere, or he would have let Laurits listen to his voice notes.

Laurits laughs, especially when Magne repeats his claims of throwing a hammer impossible distances and of running faster than the world record. But the laughs get more cautious as the story progresses. Laurits's eyes look away more, his focus turning inward while Magne keeps talking. When the story reaches the dinner party in Jutulheim, Laurits is quietly nodding along.

"When I looked in the mirror there… what I saw wasn't me." Magne shakes his head. "I mean, it was my face, but everything else – I looked like a Viking." He looks Laurits in the eye. "Or an old god."

"Inside you, looking out," Laurits supplies. His nods go deeper, as if something is starting to make sense.

"And very close to the surface, that time." Magne sits up straighter. "I knew I was stronger, could see better, but I hadn't really felt that before. Like I wasn't me." He takes a breath. "It had to be the mead. I didn't feel anything before they started giving me that mead."

Magne continues, explaining the research that led him to the seeress in the supermarket, and what she'd told him. "And that made no sense – except that it did."

"I know the feeling," Laurits says, as if he's tasting the words on his tongue.

"And then we got to that mountaineering trip. Vidar was there."

"Cutting meat for the cookout, yeah. He said he wanted to let us students taste what real game tasted like."

Magne shakes his head. "He invited me, me specifically, to help cut the meat. And when we were alone, he started asking me weird questions. In a language I didn't recognise – but I knew what he said. Like there was someone else inside me, hearing them. Like… like Thor heard them and responded. And then after I walked away, he sent that dog after me." Magne shudders at the memory.

Laurits knows this part of the story, but Magne tells it again anyway. And goes a bit further, too. "When that monster bit halfway through my arm, I thought I was dead. But … that thing inside me – Thor – took me over. Ripped that monster's jaws apart and I couldn't do anything. I wasn't in control anymore."

"Does that keep happening?" Laurits asks, "the losing control – something taking you over?" He doesn't seem too pleased at the prospect. He runs a hand through his hair. "It's happened to me before, I think."

Magne bolts upright. "What?"

"You weren't there. It was at the school dance. Fjor put on some music – great music, too – and started dancing. Saxa joined in. So did I. But when that dance got going – that wasn't me anymore." He grimaces. "And I thought it felt nice at the time. Like the best kind of drug ever." He leans back as far as the roof over Magne's bed will let him and rubs his temples again. "Didn't feel so nice this time."

"I don't know," Magne has to confess. "But after the fight with Vidar this afternoon, I don't feel like there's someone else inside of me anymore." He closes his eyes, tries to find the strangeness within again – but he still can't. "There's just… me."

"You, but super strong, super fast, and with control over the weather."

"Well, yes." Magne switches to the old tongue because he can. "And I've learned a language." Now that's he's getting used to it, it is kind of fun. Other languages have never come as easily as this.

Laurits flinches, but forces a smile as he responds in the same language. "You wouldn't have learned it any other way." Then he rubs his face in his hands and continues in a more modern variant. "Man, that's weird."

Laurits turns to Magne. "You saw something, right? When the lightning struck? What did I look like?" He shakes his head, dismissing his own question. "Who did I look like?"

"Your hair was longer. And red. Not like Erik's is red, but like fire-red. And you had eyes like a giant's." That makes Laurits blink. "I think I saw Loki." As he says the name out loud for the first time, Magne knows, down to his bones, that he's right.

"Loki," Laurits echoes. His eyes go distant for a few seconds. Then he breaks into a grin. For the first time since Magne has started telling his story, he looks like the old Laurits again. "That's pretty cool, actually."

Chapter Text

The following morning, their mother sits Magne and Laurits down at the breakfast table and gives them her best attempt at a stern glare. "I have to go to work. I know I have no chance of keeping you indoors, but I do expect the both of you to be back here when I get home. Understood?"

Laurits opens his mouth, but Magne beats him to it. For once. "Yes, mama."

She smiles and ruffles his hair. "You boys take care of each other, all right?" She heads out the door. "And stay out of trouble!"

"As if," Laurits says as the door closes behind her. "I need to experiment."

"Relax," Magne says as he pours out more cereal. He didn't get to have dinner last night, so he's starving. "We have all day." He puts the cereal box down. "But I want to talk to Gry, first. She got caught in the middle of it all, and I should apologise."

When they're almost at Gry's house, Laurits says something about getting snacks and peels off into the supermarket. It's just as well, really. Magne's not sure how much he can say to Gry even in private. Never mind with Laurits' commentary in the background. But he should try to explain, at least. It's not fair to Gry otherwise.

Gry's mother is surprised when Magne walks into the salon and takes a while to decide before she calls for her daughter. When Gry shows up, she's keeping her distance. And doesn't say anything, either.

The resulting silence is… awkward. Magne's not the most sensitive to that sort of thing, but even he can feel it. "I wanted to apologise," he finally starts.

"You don't have to," Gry says, almost before Magne is finished. She casts a side-glance at her mother. "You got carried away by Isolde's theories. I understand."

Magne frowns, because that's not what he wanted to apologise for. He opens his mouth to protest, but before he can speak, Gry's mother interrupts. "I think you'd better leave, Magne."

That makes Magne blink. This is not going to any plan he might have thought of. Gry bites her lips and doesn't say anything. Well then, there's not much he can do, is there? He nods. "All right. See you around." And he leaves.

He has made it halfway to the supermarket he hears Gry calling from behind him. "Magne!" He turns around. Gry is speed-walking after him, but she stops out of arm's reach. "I couldn't talk in front of my mom," she says. "Fjor tried to explain, yesterday. He told me a very weird story. Do you want to tell me your side of it?"

Magne huffs. "Weird is a good word." He takes a breath. "Did you believe him?"

Gry frowns. "I knew a little already. I found pictures of f Fjor and his family. Old pictures, l mean – from over a century ago. They looked exactly the same." She nods. "So I knew he was… different. But…"

"Giants?"

"Who knew, right? That our homeroom teacher's obsession with Norse Mythology would be relevant ever." Gry forces a laugh but turns serious again very quickly. "Is that it? Are you like Fjor?"

"No." Magne pulls a hand through is hair. "I thought I was normal, before I came here." He smiles ruefully, thinking of when he told Isolde exactly that. When he already wasn't normal anymore. "But…" Words suddenly desert him. Last night, he could explain to Laurits, but his brother was experiencing the same thing he had. Uttering the words "I'm a god" to Gry now is impossible.

But Gry comes to his rescue once again. "Not a giant. But not normal. I think I heard Vidar call a name yesterday." She blinks. "And you probably can throw a hammer really far."

"Half a kilometre at least," Magne confirms. He can't keep a slight smirk off his face. Gry has caught on already. That, and he still remembers the wonder and pride he felt about being able to throw a hammer that far.

"Thor?" Her tone of voice matches his exactly, when he first heard it from the seer.

"Yep, that's how I felt when I finally figured it out." Magne pulls up his shoulders into a shrug. "I don't know how, or why me. But that doesn't make it any less true."

Gry falls silent. "Is that why you went after Vidar Jutul? Because you're supposed to be his 'hereditary enemy' or something?"

Magne shakes his head. "Vidar killed Isolde. I can't prove it anymore, but I'm sure of it. And they came after me. I only defended myself."

"Fjor didn't come after you," Gry points out. "But you attacked him, too."

Magne frowns. "He was attacking you." He stands up straighter to defend himself. "I couldn't let him do that." But Gry still got caught in the middle.

Gry knows it, too. She was already standing a few feet away, but now she takes another step back. "We're friends, Magne. We are. But I like Fjor, too." She looks away. "And I don't want to get caught in some kind of," her hands come up, wave around trying to define the situation, "supernatural battle between gods and giants."

"I’m sorry."

Gry sighs. "It's not your fault. Fjor was flirting with me before you even arrived. And I've been friends with Saxa for ages." She shakes her head. "But I'm a regular old human. I'm nothing special."

"I think you're special," Magne interrupts.

Gry shakes her head again, more emphatically this time. "Thank you, Magne. But.. I'm in high school! I should be focusing on my exams and maybe take care of my parents -- not re-enact the Ring Cycle!" She puts her hands together and lets them drop. Looking at the ground, she says, "So I think you and I should keep our distance, for now. Give everything a chance to settle."

It's not what Magne wants to hear. But it doesn't surprise him much, either. He's had plenty of moments of wishing that he'd never come to Edda, that he'd never befriended Isolde, and that he could go back to normal, like before. But that would also mean giving up on Gry and letting go of the investigation into Jutul industries. And that isn't over yet. "I understand," he says, nodding slowly. "I'll try to stay out of your way." Not the easiest thing to do in a tiny town like Edda, but he can at least try.

"That's not…" Gry starts to say and then stops. "Yeah, maybe that's for the best. For a while." She stands there for a few more seconds, in silence. "Maybe after, I'll know better how to deal with all of this. And we can be friends again."

"I'd like that." And then, there is nothing more to say.

Gry nods, then hesitates. But her next words are "Bye, Magne." And she turns, slowly, before walking away.

Chapter Text

Magne finds Laurits smoking outside the supermarket. No actual snacks are in evidence. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Magne asks.

Laurits shakes his head. "No dice. The old lady must have taken the day off or something." He takes a drag on the cigarette. "I did find Erik roaming the aisles with an empty basket."

"What did he say?"

Laurits shoots him a look of disdain. "You don't think I let him see me?" He shakes his head. "After yesterday, I don't think I’m in his good books."

"You can't avoid him forever." Their mother has been showing more than a little interest in Erik. "He'll be around to dinner one of these days again."

"I can avoid him today, at least." Laurits takes one last drag of the cigarette, then stubs it out on the pavement. "So where are we going for these experiments?"

Magne turns his head to nod at the mountains. After yesterday's rains, the sky is still overcast and threatening. "Up the mountain." Not encouraging to go out in this kind of weather. They should have some privacy. "We can try out some things."

Magne leads the way up the slope to the edge of the pine grove where he'd tested his own strength. He keeps his pace even, but firm. Both Gry and Isolde had managed to keep up with him at a slower pace before, but not without effort. Laurits stays beside him without even breathing hard.

"I didn't think we got beavers here," Laurits says when Magne leads them past the five-foot high tree stump. Mosses and molds are already attacking the part that Magne's fists have left bare. "And I didn't know beavers were that big."

"This wasn't a beaver," Magne replies, grinning. "This was me." He takes another punch at the remaining trunk, striking splinters where he hits. He shows the back of his hand, still clean and unhurt, to Laurits. "You said you wanted to experiment. Want to have a go?"

Laurits frowns at the tree stump but gives it a half-hearted jab. It doesn't leave a mark. "You're the one who's built for punching things." He punches again, harder, and this punch dislodges some bark. But Laurits hisses and withdraws, shaking the hand he'd punched with. "Yeah. Not my thing." He takes a look upslope. "You said you could run fast, too. How about we try that?"

"You're on. How far?" Magne asks the question, but then comes up with a suggestion himself. "We're about halfway to the school camp. Let's race there." It'll be an endurance race, not a sprint. Maybe Laurits wants something shorter.

But Laurits cocks his head, considering. "Yeah, we could do that." He shakes his shoulders loose and takes a few jumps, as if to prepare for running. "On three?"

At Magne's nod, he starts to count. As soon as he reaches two, Laurits grins and sprints away. Magne can just about hear him call "Three" as he speeds off up the slope. Laughing, he follows his little brother. What else could he have expected from Laurits?

They are well-matched. Magne's legs are longer and stronger. His bigger strides means he can easily catch up if the ground is even, and jump further across the rougher patches of their route. But Laurits is nimble enough to avoid obstacles that Magne has to slow down for and he takes the easier paths instinctively.

They arrive together at the bottom of the field where the school had pitched their tents. The true camp site is on the other end of the field, 200 meters or so of even ground. A break in the cloud cover opens up, and a pillar of sunlight seems to rise out of the firepit. Magne turns his head toward his brother, to be met with a wide grin. Both of them put in a sprint to the endpoint.

Magne pulls ahead, his longer legs giving him the advantage on this easy ground. But then the rustle of Laurits's footsteps disappears. Magne stops to look behind him. Laurits is no longer there.

As Magne stops and turns, a hare shoots past him, racing ahead toward the patch of sunlight. When it reaches the finish, it starts to grow. Within an instant, the hare has transformed itself into Laurits. He stares at his hands, as astounded as Magne. While Magne is coming closer, Laurits's expression brightens into pure unbridled glee. Laurits whoops.

"I can fucking shapeshift! How cool is that?"

Laurits's elation at discovering his powers is contagious. After the initial surprise, Magne can't help himself. He's grinning as widely as his brother, who is by now almost doing cartwheels in the grass out of excitement.

He remembers that feeling, rising in his chest, when he measured the distance to where his hammer had fallen. Also the similar feeling later when he checked the time after a 100-meter run. Those were impossible numbers. But he'd made them. He'd done it. For him, those numbers weren't impossible. From the hammer throw until he told Gry about it the next day, he'd carried that as a joyful secret. With all the sadness around Isolde's death, it had been a precious tiny spark of joy that came with plenty of confusion. Gry's incredulous response at the time had extinguished the joy and only left the confusion.

If Magne has done this right, Laurits should be dealing with a lot less confusion. So he'll have plenty of time to savour the joy. It's something Magne is perfectly happy to let his brother have. They can enjoy it together.

The weather is clearing up, the sun now peeking through the clouds while Laurits embarks on a run of wild experimentation. Soon enough, Magne is surrounded by a succession of animals, from ferrets to foxes to deer and wolves. Whatever the shape, it comes easily, and after an hour or so Laurits barely stumbles going from one shape to the other.

Birds are not so easy. The transformation comes quickly enough – Laurits manages a magpie, every feather perfectly groomed. But when he tries to take off, he gets the timing wrong, or perhaps he hasn't figured out how flight works yet. In any case, he only manages a fluttery hop and ends up with his head in the mud.

Magne can't help laughing at the sight of the little bird splayed out in the dirt, all distinction between white, black and blue feathers lost in brown muck. He gets a glare from one beady eye, and then Laurits is rising up, mud streaking his face and clothes. "You think that's funny, do you?" he says as he tries to wipe off the worst of the mud. He's only making it worse. But then the grin is back, and he scoops up a handful of the mud. "Let's see how you feel when you're in the dirt."

Laurits, full size, would have been easy to avoid. But Magne is nowhere near quick enough to catch or evade the monkey that dodges his grasp and clambers up his back to smear his hair and face with mud.

"Alright, alright, I surrender," Magne shouts out, still laughing, after the third fistful of mud lands in his ear. "You win."

The monkey jumps off, and morphs back into Laurits. "Don't you forget it," he says, still grinning while he roughly tries to comb the mud from his hair. He gives it up with a shrug after pulling at a few tangles. He shakes his head to send a few last drops flying. "Fine. Birds need more practice," he waves the notion off dismissively. "Let's try something that'll let me stand on my feet, at least."

Laurits stands still, looking intently at Magne. But he's not changing his shape. The only thing that changes – and it's hard to see under the mud – is that his hair goes from golden-blond to Magne's mousy colour.

Magne frowns. "Did you mean to change your hair colour?"

Laurits matches his frown and bites his lip. His hair shortens, into an approximation of what Magne had seen in the mirror this morning. He huffs out a breath and shakes his head again. Now he closes his eyes. His hair starts to lengthen and twist into Oskar's braids. Another quick shake and Laurits's hair straightens and lightens at the same time into Fjor's quiff. But the style has barely manifested before Laurits clicks his tongue and he's back to his own – dark auburn, not the golden blond it was this morning – hair colour and style. "It's not working."

"What were you even trying to do?"

"Trying to make myself look like you, of course. Or Oskar. Or Fjor." A sigh. "But, like the birds, that seems to be too high an aim. For now." He drops down onto the grass – not the muddy patch he'd landed in earlier – and pulls out a strand of his hair. "At least I can save a fortune on hair dyes. That's something." His hand drops and he stretches himself out, one hand behind his head, the other on his stomach. "And now I'm exhausted. And starving."

"You could have bought snacks. At the supermarket," Magne points out. It earns him a middle finger raised in his general direction. He sits down next to Laurits and enjoys the sun for a few moments. The weather is clearing up and it's good to lie here and breathe. There'll be time for other cares later. But he's also a little hungry. And the mudfight has left them both filthy. "We should head back down. We'd both have time to take a shower before Mom comes home."

Laurits snorts and shoots him a sideways look. "And what if we don't? What's she going to do, ground us?" He waves his hand at their surroundings. "That's been an amazing success so far."

Magne shakes his head. "Because she asked us to, it makes her happy, and it doesn't cost us anything to do it." He sighs. "We've given her enough to worry about, already." And worry, she does. She doesn't always do things the right way, but every time Magne, or Laurits, or she herself has gotten in trouble, she's picked herself up and found a way through it. She, too, is family. And family takes care of each other.

He pushes himself up and shakes off as much of the mud as he can. He holds out a hand to Laurits, to help him up. "Come on."

Laurits groans, but takes the hand and lets Magne pull him to his feet. "You are such a goody two-shoes."

"So you've said."