Archive of Our Own

Anthony Howardson had never considered himself a particularly lucky person. In fact, the last few years would indicate someone was laughing at his expense.

And right now? Anthony was certain he was the unluckiest Asgardian in the galaxy.

Of course, he might be somewhat to blame for his current predicament.

He had bought the illegal and scrawled designs for a teleportation ritual from a half-elf in the back of Asgard’s taverns. But he’d been reasonably certain that it would get him where he wanted.

He had not expected it to land him in the middle of ice and snow – oh and within sight of several Frost Giants.

The Norns were, clearly, out to kill him.

After all, the last time he’d been near death, he’d managed to survive only to gain a host of problems and a giant scar for doing so. Maybe his time really was up?

Despite his impending spearing by ice weapons, he held up his hands in a sign of open surrender.

“I am not the start of an invasion,” he shouted across the frozen plains. “I assure you; I am rather the opposite.”

The frost giants had paused with their weapons raised. Anthony smiled hopefully. He’d appeared in a travel cloak, tunic, pants and boots. He also had two chests and a travel satchel. He’d packed as much of his life as he could into whatever would fit into the teleportation circle. Surely it further proved he was a helpless traveller not an Einherjar on the orders of the Allfather?

“Why do you come here?” A giant three times the size of him asked.

“Good question. I actually intended to go to Alfheim. Teleportation rituals. They don’t always work the way we plan.”

The giant tightened his grip on his weapon. The ice around Anthony began to crack worryingly.

“You’re a mage,” he growled. “You need to die.”

Anthony instinctively leapt to the side as a beam of ice was shot where he’d been standing. He threw out his hand in a gesture he’d learned over the last few years to avoid. Luckily, it did what he wanted and sent a wave of flame outwards.

The Frost Giants shouted and jumped backwards. Anthony started to run. He didn’t know what he intended to do or how he would survive, but he knew he needed to get away from their immediate threat.

However, before he could get more than a few steps the snow in front of him swirled upwards like a funnel only to disperse and leave a male frost giant in its place. Anthony’s eyes widened and he stumbled in the snow before skidding to a halt.

Norns save me.

Anthony knew who – or rather what that creature was.

Where a normal frost giant had no hair, minimal horns and wore the most basic armour and animal pelts, this creature was something else. His skin was blue and ridged liked the others, but he had shoulder-length black hair and long but thin curling horns almost as long as his arm. A white furred pelt was over his shoulders and a white loincloth-like item with gold accents covered his waist and lower region. Gold jewellery adorning his body in numerous places.

Anthony knew that this was the creature that had single-handedly stopped the Aesir invasion of Jotunheim. Not only that, but he’d also stopped the frost giants from invading Midgard. It had been whispered for centuries that he was one of the old beings. The power within him was enough to make Asgard give the frozen world a wide berth. Anthony swallowed as those sharp red eyes regarded him.

He was so arrested by the sight of the creature in front of him, that he forgot about the threat behind him.

“Old One,” the words were said reverently.

Anthony looked over his shoulder. The frost giants who had attacked him were all on their knees in the snow. Their weapons were still in their hands but their heads were bowed to look at the ground. It only furthered Anthony’s belief that this creature, this Old One, was the most powerful being on Jotunheim – possibly, across many realms.

Anthony slowly turned back to look at him. The Old One’s gaze was focused on him.

“I felt your arrival on this realm,” he said.

The Old One’s voice was smooth and cultured. It was something that would not be out of place in Asgard’s palace, walking among the royals and dignitaries. It was not what Anthony had come to expect. He’d been raised on stories of a being filled with wild magic. It was meant to embody the harsh, rough natures that one associated with the frost giants.

But then, Anthony knew that not everything the Aesir said and believed was true. It meant Anthony knew very little about how to appease a being as powerful as the one in front of him.

He started by sketching a small bow. He kept his eyes on the Old One and was able to witness a small upturn of his mouth

“I came here by accident,” he answered. “I was trying to teleport to Alfheim.”

“And why would an Asgardian not use their most famed transporter and weapon?” he enquired.

His gaze dragged over Anthony again, moving from the tips of his now snow-dusted hair and down to his travel boots.

Because I was not meant to be leaving my realm at all.

“It was more… expeditious to use a ritual.”

The Old One’s smile spread wider until it revealed sharp, white teeth.

“You are far too inexperienced a mage to be attempting circles such as those. In fact, I am quite certain Asgardian seidr does not lend itself to rituals. Your race is not used to sacrificing its blood for anything but battle.”

That would have been useful to know before that Norns damned half-elf took my gold!

Anthony tried to keep smiling despite the frustration burning inside him. It was hardly his fault that he knew almost nothing about seidr use. He’d developed late in life, and if that was not problematic enough, only those of high birth could access the royal libraries. His status as a weaponsmith allowed him some leeway, but not for texts that no man should be utilising on Asgard.

He was lucky he’d been able to find a single person to barter with him. The few travellers he’d been able to question had all been wary to speak with him. It was why he had been so desperate to leave his home realm for the magic of Alfheim.

A few Elves had been sympathetic to his plight. He’d fostered enough friendships over the years to be promised board and food. He would give them his talents with metal and in exchange, he would be able to learn to control the small, but growing pool of magic inside him.

“It seems I followed the wrong advice,” Anthony said. He bowed again. “I apologise for coming to your realm by accident.”

“Hmm,” the Old One murmured. He walked past Anthony and towards the still kneeling frost giants. “Come, Asgardian.”

Anthony hesitated, but very aware of the danger he was in, he soon fell into step behind the Old One. He eyed the frost giants warily, but they didn’t react as he walked past. Clearly, the Old One’s interest in him was enough to keep the others at bay.

“You may rise,” he called once Anthony had cleared them.

Anthony tensed further at hearing them shuffle around behind him. He kept expecting to be skewered by ice, but no attacks followed as he was brought back to the spot where his belongings still rested in the snow. He winced a little at seeing the melted snow from his burst of fire.

He’d learned from the beginning that bursts of pure energy, while still common, were nothing on how easily he expelled fire. An elf had theorised it was because, as a weaponsmith, it was the element he had long grown comfortable with, even before his magic materialised.

The Old One ran his fingers through the air above Anthony’s things. He seemed thoughtful as he looked back at Anthony. He made a gesture at one of the chests.

“Sit. I wish to speak with you.”

Anthony gulped. He knew he was a natural charmer, but even he had his doubts about enchanting and befriending a creature that was so powerful Asgard’s army had fled from him. But he knew a refusal would only mean a swifter death from the frost giants behind him.

He wasn’t exactly dressed for an extended chat in the cold, but he still edged over to the chests and took a seat on the one that was closest. The Old One took the one beside him. They were unerringly close together.

“Your items are full of crafting and the most personal of items.”

Anthony couldn’t help his initial scowl and annoyed, “You went through my things?”

The Old One’s eyebrows rose. The frost giants behind him all growled and made noises of distaste.

“Ah, um,” Anthony cleared his throat. “I mean. Fair call. Enemy on your realm and all that. I was more curious – yeah, I was curious. That must be an advanced spell, yeah?”

He smiled, trying to infuse as much enthusiasm as possible into the expression. To his surprise and relief, the Old One actually laughed. It was a soft little chuckle that carried across the wind. The sound was unusually… disarming. He wanted to smile back. It also made him relax a little.

“What is your name?” The Old One questioned.

And maybe it was that brief moment, that strange way his laugh made Anthony relax, but he found himself answering, “Anthony Howardson.”

“Anthony,” the Old One murmured, looking thoughtful. His red gaze had drifted but it soon turned back to him, sharpening once again. “I would like to know more of you. I also would like to take you somewhere warmer. You are not dressed for this climate.”

He held his hand up and the wind whistled. A sea of snow flurries swept off the ground to encircle them in a tunnel of white before, as quick as it had formed, the snow disappeared to reveal a space the likes of which he had never seen. The walls and floor were made of the clearest ice and in the very centre of the room was a large throne.

Anthony had expected the Old One to walk over to his throne or perhaps lead him to another room. However, he remained where he was, seemingly comfortable and content to rest on Anthony’s chest of clothing.

He did find it rather remarkable that despite being in a place made entirely of ice he was already warmer. While Anthony wasn’t in any way skilled with his magic yet, he knew the creature beside him was and therefore, even if he couldn’t sense it, he had no doubt that the Old One was altering the temperature for Anthony’s benefit.

“You are unusual,” the Old One stated. “For someone as old as I, that is rather refreshing.”

“Uh, thank you?”

He cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he hoped to keep on doing it until he was on his way to Alfheim.

Maybe the Norns aren’t out to kill me?

“Your belongings indicate more craft work than seidr mastery.”

“Yeah. Something I’m looking to improve on, erm, Old One.”

A strange emotion flashed across the Old One’s face. It wasn’t quite annoyance, but nor could Anthony fully place it. There was a long moment where Anthony was simply stared at. It felt like he was being somehow weighed and measured.

“Loki,” he finally said. “I would have you call me by name.”

Anthony wasn’t sure how to take that request. He’d never once heard of the creature having a name. He didn’t know what it meant that he got to hear and call the Old One by it.

Does that change the fact he can kill you with a flick of his fingers? He’s someone you want to appease! By all the stories he’s considered a Jotunheim God.

“Certainly, Loki.”

When saying the creature’s name didn’t make the walls shake or the ground open up beneath him, Anthony relaxed a little bit more. Loki eyed him shrewdly. The deep red of his eyes seemed to see right through him.

Anthony found it strange that despite knowing how powerful Loki was, he didn’t incite the same fear as the other frost giants. Perhaps, with Loki, he did not feel as if he was under immediate threat.

“When was your last meal?” Loki questioned.

“Early this morning,” he answered, following it by a grin. “I was informed it was not wise to travel on a full stomach.”

Loki’s lips twitched.

“A course you were wise to choose.” He pushed up from the chest and started to walk away. “Come,” he continued. “You will eat with me.”

Anthony knew better than to refuse. He stood and followed the creature. He was a little confused as to where they were going as the space didn’t seem to have any doors. However, as soon as Loki walked close to the ice, it seemed to crack and break down in front of him, crumbling to the ground all without disrupting the rest of the structure.

Loki had made no gesture; it had simply reacted to his presence.

Anthony’s eyes were wide even as he walked through the archway that had been created. His gaze ran over the space, trying to understand. They were now in a long corridor that had been impossible to see from the previous room.

“Was that seidr?” he asked unthinkingly. “Or is that part of a frost giant’s natural affinity with ice?”

“Jotun,” Loki said, his voice soft but firm. Anthony frowned. “They do not like the term your world has made popular.” He glanced back at Anthony. “Neither do I.”

“I am sorry,” Anthony quickly apologised.

Loki turned back around. He didn’t answer and Anthony found his curiosity burning within him. On Asgard, it had been an unbecoming trait. His role as a weaponsmith allowed him some manner of acceptance. He needed to learn how to perfect his craft, but any question outside his forge was deemed unbecoming and strange.

He had long learned to quell his inquiring mind and sneak answers from any books he was able to purchase or find. But he was going to Alfheim to learn. They were a place where curious minds were welcomed. And more than any of that, he was in front of a being few had spoken to, Anthony wished to ask as much as he could.

“Are you considered a Jotun too?”

Loki stopped moving and Anthony, having been too distracted by his surroundings, couldn’t catch himself in time. He collided with the creature, his face and body connecting with the white pelt the Old One wore. He gasped, not only from shock but how soft the fur was. Anthony had never felt anything like it.

He wanted to bury himself in the warm, fluffy cloak – but, he was quick to realise who he was pressing up against. Anthony stumbled back hurriedly, an apology already forming on his lips. Loki was looking over his shoulder, he seemed just as startled by what had occurred.

“I am very sorry,” he hurried to say. “Your architecture is just amazing and something I can’t even begin to understand. Do you know how hard it is to control any element let alone construct it into such large shapes? I can’t even see the roof. And then the way the archway disappeared? It’s a living castle. And I just-”

“Do you always speak so much?” Loki interrupted. Anthony snapped his mouth shut, a wince already beginning to form. But, before he could apologise again, Loki continued, “Do not take that as a complaint.”

Anthony still felt wary of making the wrong move or asking the wrong question. But, like many times in his life, he had no ability to withhold his intrigue. Loki, at least, had implied, he could keep talking.

“I have questions,” Anthony said. “Whatever I don’t understand, I want to know.”

Loki started to smile. “An admirable trait for any being, especially an Asgardian.”

He turned away once more and started walking again. Anthony hurried to fall into step.

“I am considered Jotun for all that I am more than any of the beings on this realm,” Loki answered, immediately captivating Anthony. “I do not know the difficulties you face with controlling an element. The wind and winter of Jotunheim are at my command. The space I have created is mine to craft however I see fit.” Loki glanced at him. “Currently, it is many degrees warmer than it has ever been and it will remain so as long as I wish it.”

Anthony swallowed as his assumption was proven correct. His travel clothing was suited for the dry and slightly cooler climate of Alfheim. Walking through a dwelling made of nothing but ice should have made the air burn his throat. His face should have feltraw. Yet he felt at comfortable temperature. When he looked at the ice beneath his feet, he found it unaffected by the new warmth. It was an incredibly subtle display of pure power.

“Your affinity is flame,” Loki remarked.

It pulled Anthony from his thoughts and he looked back at the Jotun.

“Yeah,” he answered. “The Elves said it’s because I’ve spent my whole life melding with fire.”

Loki nodded. “Your seidr draws you to the conduit you can manipulate with least concentration or complexity.”

He held up his hand and a ball of green flame formed to hover above his palm. Anthony increased his speed to get closer, feeling shocked.

“I thought frost-er Jotun were more susceptible to fire?”

“I am no mere Jotun,” Loki replied. He also closed his fist, the flame disappearing instantly.

“That’s incredible,” Anthony whispered.

The curve to Loki’s mouth was noticeably pleased. He turned them down another corridor, but Anthony’s attention was no longer focused on the (admittedly still fascinating architecture) but on the Jotun beside him.

Before his arrival, Anthony had never seen a Jotun. They were rarely spoken of on Asgard. No Asgardian wanted to discuss the creatures that had bested them and sent them fleeing the frozen realm. The few tales he had heard had painted images of brutish monsters. Loki was one of the most regal and refined beings Anthony had ever seen. He was slim, but compact. His muscles obvious and the gold he wore only complimented the brilliant blue of his skin.

He was the most foreign creature that Anthony had ever seen, but his manner and control of magic only inspired respect and curiosity rather than disgust or fear. He was still wary of course, but so far, he’d only found a matching curiosity in the Jotun’s gaze.

The sound of cracking ice pulled Anthony’s gaze away. He watched another wall dismantle to allow them to pass through. This time, there was no ice but instead it was the stone of a cave. When they stepped inside hidden torches came alight by green flame. It filled Anthony with fresh questions. The ice of the hallways had been bright as if they glowed with some inner light source – but there had been no windows, no torches. It had merely shone a soft blue. He had no idea how he did it, but Anthony wished to know.

He had barely spent any time with the Old One and he already had an avalanche of questions he wished to have explained.

They didn’t walk far before a larger fire was revealed crackling in the middle of the space. A brown pelt was laid down over the smooth rock to the right of the blaze. A hunk of meat was skewered and resting over the flame. Anthony stopped walking to stare.

“Do you do everything by seidr?”

Loki took a seat crossed legged on the pelt.

“I spent time as the other Jotun do,” he answered, turning the spit by rotating his finger. “It was neither pleasant nor productive.” He looked over his shoulder. “Come. Sit.”

Anthony had heard tales of arrogant mages who wasted their seidr on mundane things, but Anthony felt that calling Loki that would be incredibly inaccurate. Loki didn’t seem conceited. He was doing what came naturally to him. Even if it seemed so much grander to someone like Anthony.

Following the Jotun’s request, Anthony took a seat beside Loki. He almost groaned at the heat of the flames. He hadn’t been bitingly cold, but this heat seemed to go into his bones, warming him all the way through.

He lifted his hands, bringing them close and rubbing them. He was so focused on getting a bit more feeling in his fingers, that he didn’t expect a touch to his arm. He jumped and looked to the side. Loki’s hand was on his thin travel jacket. He thumbed the leather and Anthony stared at the black, slightly sharpened nails.

“This does not give you much warmth.”

Anthony swallowed, not sure how to feel about the unexpected touch. Asgardians guarded personal space. A backslap and hand clasp were common among warriors, but outside of familial embraces and intimacies with a bedpartner, they were not a very tactile race. Anthony wasn’t used to people simply touching him. His role as a weaponsmith made him even less likely to gain the casual camaraderie that the warriors frequently bestowed.

He tried to shake off the strange feeling.

“I was not expecting to arrive among the snow.”

“You will have difficulty arriving in any other location with the ritual you selected.”

Anthony’s attention snapped to the Jotun. Loki’s gaze was still on his clothing. His hand was starting to explore it with open interest. The man’s words were enough to distract him from the touch.

“What do you mean?”

“You do not hold enough power to succeed with any measure of accuracy.” Loki poked a finger under his sleeve. Anthony shuddered at the cold, unexpected touch to his wrist. “You are lucky you arrived here with your body and items intact.”

Anthony’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t known it was that dangerous.

Maybe I shouldn’t have pretended I know more than I actually do about magic.

“Then how am I supposed to leave Jotunheim?”

Loki’s hand retreated and Anthony was surprised by how much he missed it. The Jotun met his gaze and his expression was serious once more.

“The rituals of others are not well known to me. You will have to regain the seidr needed to attempt it again.”

Anthony felt a sinking feeling in his stomach and heart as the truth became very plain.

“You mean I’m stuck here,” Anthony surmised.

Loki inclined his head. “I am afraid you are.”

Anthony lowered his hands to his lap and stared at them. He’d always known it was a risk to pack up his life and throw himself into the arms of the Elves, but he’d always felt it was a calculated risk. This was far outside anything he could have imagined.

“I can offer you a place to stay,” Loki continued. “I am still puzzled by you and while within my home you will be safe from the violence of others. Foreigners are not well received.”

I had noticed that.

Closing his eyes, Anthony tried to take stock of the situation and keep from any form of panic. He was on Jotunheim, a place that was only spoken about in whispers and with tales of monsters. But, the one who embodied much of that fear had rescued and promised to protect him. He had an ally for as long as Loki was curious about him.

And I’m curious about him. If I have the time to study the ritual without hiding all my research, I can learn what I did wrong and get to Alfheim. In the meantime, I might even learn from Loki. I could befriend the Old One.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the Jotun. Loki had taken to gliding his fingers through the air. Each motion cut the meat almost to the centre, seeming to check how it was cooking before stitching it back together again. Anthony knew his fate could change on the whims of a creature far more powerful than him, but somehow, Anthony felt confident he would survive.

Maybe it was the same naivety that had almost killed him with an ill-fated ritual, but Loki had saved him, warmed him and given him food and shelter.

And if none of that was reason enough, when Loki proffered him the meat with a small smile, Anthony found his instinctive reaction was to smile back. And he always trusted his gut.

“Thank you,” Anthony said, taking the meat. Their hands brushed and he shivered again, but blamed it on the cold. “And for the offer. I will stay here until I can travel once more.”

Loki inclined his head in a regal nod before turning to his food. Anthony knew he should focus on the seasoned meat or the cave he was in, but Anthony found he could not look away from the Jotun. It wasn’t because the creature had saved him it was because when bathed in the glow of the firelight, Anthony didn’t think he had ever seen a sight so striking.

And he had to wonder, how in the realms had the Asgardians seen him and declared the Jotun to be monsters?

Loki was a surprisingly good conversationalist. He was also a good cook.

Anthony hadn’t expected much from what amounted to campfire fare, but the meat was tender and flavoursome. It was spiced with unusual herbs that gave it a rich, exotic taste. He complimented the Jotun thoroughly. Loki smiled with obvious pleasure.

Loki also asked after the items of crafting he’d sensed inside his belongings. Hardly one to ignore a chance to talk about something he was passionate about, Anthony immediately began to speak of his work as a weaponsmith.

Loki was noticeably intrigued. He asked questions and explained that, on Jotunheim, what he did was unheard of and superfluous. Jotuns crafted their weapons from the ice around them. When Anthony had pointed out the spears held by the ones he had met. Loki went on to explain spears and daggers were made entirely from rock. There were often only a few of such weapons shared among the populace of each village. It was more of a leisure act to hunt with and showcase them.

Anthony was captivated.

When they finished eating, Anthony had planned to continue speaking and was disappointed when Loki stood. There were still so many questions brimming in his mind.

“I shall take you to the space where you will stay.”

“Oh,” he murmured, unable to hide his regret.

Loki frowned and looked down at him. The Jotun should have seemed more imposing while Anthony remained seated. Yet, Anthony didn’t feel cornered, if anything, he felt a strange sense of comfort.

I wonder why that is? I have never felt such an easy connection with anyone in my life.

“Do you wish to remain by the fire?” Loki enquired. “I can form one in other areas. Or you may remain in this cave. It matters little to me.”

“Anything you have will be fine,” Anthony insisted. “As long as I’m able to stay warm, I can sleep anywhere.”

Loki nodded, but his frown persisted.

“What's wrong?” Anthony asked.

“You were… displeased.” His gaze flicked to where the meat remained. “Did you require more food?”

“Oh,” Anthony breathed as he caught on. He smiled, feeling oddly charmed by the Jotun. He’d shared meals in many houses and he could not recall a single Asgardian who was so attentive. “I liked our conversation. I had more questions, that was all.”

Loki blinked. He seemed surprised. Anthony wondered how that could possibly be. Who in all the realms would want to stop talking to someone like Loki? There was so much to learn. He hadn’t even scratched the surface of the Jotuns, let alone the magic, power and origins of the creature.

“I see,” Loki murmured.

He glanced at the pelt before lowering back to the ground. He crossed his legs and this time, he turned to face Anthony directly.

“I am happy to continue conversing.”

“I don’t want to keep you from anything,” Anthony hurried to say. “You’re already giving me so much.”

Loki shook his head. It made the chains of gold in Loki’s left ear jingle slightly. Anthony’s gaze caught on the plaits falling behind the Jotun’s ear. They had gold woven inside them, making them stand out even more. He had never seen a male with plaits in their hair.

Well, he assumed the Jotun was male. His upper torso implied that he was. But Anthony could not presume anything about him. He wasn’t even completely certain if the Old One truly was a Jotun. He had always indicated there was more to it than that.

“Your company and conversations are pleasant,” Loki replied, smiling faintly.

“Even when I ask too many questions?” Anthony questioned sheepishly.

“You have not asked too many.”

“So, I can ask about you being a Jotun?”

“I informed you I was.”

“You said you were but that you were more.”

Loki’s smile grew. “Yes.”

“So, what exactly does that make you?” His gaze flicked down unconsciously. “Does it mean you’re male?”

“Being Jotun does not exclude me from being female.”

Anthony shot him a wry look. “You know what I mean.”

Loki’s amusement grew and so did his grin until it showed his teeth.

“I have taken this form for many centuries,” Loki answered. “It does not exclude other forms, but it is what I have grown to call mine.”

Anthony nodded. It made sense. He was glad as well that he’d been accurate on the Jotun’s gender.

“Should I enquire as to your gender, Anthony?”

Anthony caught those amused red eyes and pointed at him. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Am I?”

“You absolutely are!” Loki started chuckling and Anthony could barely refrain from grinning. “I’m trying to be polite! It’s not every day I meet a Jotun or an Old One.”

Loki’s humour quelled at the use of his title. Anthony didn’t like the return to his more pensive expression. He hurried to avoid the term that Loki clearly didn’t enjoy.

“But, if you must know,” he said. “I’m male and my family goes back untold generations on Asgard so I'm ordinary. Although, considering my seidr, I believe I must have some elf in there somewhere.”

“Asgardians are not without magic.”

“Male ones are,” he insisted only to pause and shrug. “Unless you’re the Allfather and channel Gungnir.”

Loki’s upper lip curled. “A waste. He has isolated his mages and weakened his realm. Pathetic.”

Anthony swallowed, feeling his first hint of unease. He might have left Asgard with no intention to return, but he didn’t want to inadvertently incite a Jotun invasion on the realm.

“Well, the Jotuns I met didn’t seem too happy to know I was a mage.”

“That is because on Jotunheim mages are rare but they are praised. Their realisation of your gifts allowed them to consider you a greater threat than any other male Asgardian, save the Allfather. An Asgardian without seidr would be held prisoner. A mage would need immediate suppression.”

Anthony’s eyebrows were high by the end.

“I think I feel flattered even though I’m far too inept to do much damage to them.”

“Yes,” Loki was back to smiling. “They were not practitioners. Had they been, they would have captured you and laughed at the state of your ritual.”

“You know,” Anthony drawled, “the more I get to know you, the ruder you become.”

He’d kept smiling throughout his words and the amusement must have shone through as Loki just laughed.

He has a really nice laugh. It’s just so… genuine.

And even though Anthony knew his priority should be fixing the very ritual that had landed him on Jotunheim, Anthony found it was becoming less and less of a priority. Loki didn’t seem to mind having him stay and Anthony saw no reason to rush his leaving.

He’d wanted to go to Alfheim to learn about seidr and the way of realms other than his own. Why couldn’t he spend some time understanding Loki and Jotunheim first?

Deciding to stick with the light-hearted theme they’d adopted, Anthony continued, “So, if you are planning to be nice to your poor, humble guest. You could tell me more about yourself.”

“And what more is there to tell?” Loki enquired.

Anthony gaped. “You’ve told me almost nothing!”

“Just as you have told me.”

Loki leant forward and Anthony tried not to tense. Loki brushed over his travel clothes, when his hand pulled back, he had a piece of parchment in his hand. Anthony frowned and shifted to better see. He was startled to realise it was scrawled notes he’d taken from the palace library. He grabbed for it. Their hands brushed and he tried to ignore the feel of the raised patterns on the Jotun’s skin. They were rough and like nothing he’d touched before. But where Jotuns clearly had no boundaries with touch, Asgardians were not so informal.

“Where did you get this from?” Anthony questioned.

“Your pocket,” Loki answered. He tilted his head with open curiosity. “It holds significance to you.”

Anthony shoved it quickly back in a pocket. It was significant. It was the little amount of research he’d been able to do on how his magic had been released. Yet, despite his secretive attempts, he had little in the way of defined answers.

Nothing seemed to account for the mark that had formed on his chest. He’d drawn the symbol in a corner of the parchment and listed tomes which, he’d hoped, he could find and research more thoroughly on Alfheim.

But he wasn’t yet ready to discuss that with anyone.

“I do not wish to speak of it,” Anthony admitted quietly.

Loki looked almost disappointed, but he lowered his head in acceptance.

“Very well. What do you wish to discuss?”

Anthony had wanted to enquire about Loki’s magic, but he felt wary of treading on an area that Loki might not wish to speak of. That small gesture had reminded him that there were some things that should be avoided. He’d been swept away by their easy conversation, but everyone had secrets. Who knew what the Jotun's were? He couldn’t afford to get Loki off-side.

Because, how he had gained his seidr and that he was illegally fleeing Asgard were things he couldn't explain. Loki didn’t seem malicious in his intention, but he couldn’t trust the Jotun enough to admit any of it. Even if it meant throwing away a potential answer to his problems.

He said he does not know much about the magics of others. He probably couldn’t help me anyway.

“How long have you lived in this place?”

“I crafted it many centuries ago,” Loki answered. “It serves my purposes.”

A thought quickly occurred to Anthony. “Do other Jotuns live here?”

Loki’s face… didn’t react. It was the complete lack of response that seemed so stark. He usually smiled, raised his eyebrows or gave some kind of emotion. This time, he did nothing.

“No,” he finally, quietly stated. “But they visit me when they seek counsel.”

Anthony found it hard to believe that a place so large would be so empty. Or rather, why Loki bothered to maintain its size and grander.

“Why don’t you make something smaller than?”

Loki tilted his head. “How large do you believe the space to be?”

“Uh. Well. It had that long hallway and the huge main room.”

“Yes?”

“Well. I mean…”

Shouldn’t there be more?

But, why should there be? The paths to the hallway had broken down at Loki’s command. The cavern they’d entered had only been revealed by Loki’s magic.

Seeing his noticeable confusion, Loki chuckled. He also stood.

“Come,” Loki said.

He started to leave the room and Anthony hurried to follow after him. They stepped into the same hallway as before.

“This is a mountain,” Loki said. “It is the highest point on Jotunheim’s realm. It is made of rock, snow and ice and overlooks a vast tundra. There are several villages within my sight.”

He stopped abruptly and held out his arm, Anthony collided with it. The Jotun’s cool skin seemed to seep into his clothing. He sucked in a breath. But, before he could focus too long on Loki’s touch, his attention was taken by the sound of cracking ice. He looked down to find the ice on the ground around them was shifting. It was followed by the ice above and to the side of them. He stiffened and instinctively stepped closer to Loki.

The Jotun glanced at him. He seemed surprised and yet, a moment later, Loki gently grasped Anthony's jacket and bid him to stand in front of him. Anthony tentatively complied. He felt a little more protected with the Jotun behind him.

“The place you imagine does not exist,” Loki whispered. “As you will see.”

The ice continued to shift and break and Anthony watched as it melted. Some large pieces fell to the ground, making him flinch. Loki’s hands came to touch his arms. He jumped, but the Jotun merely turned him to look. His eyes widened to see his chests and travel satchel. There should have been thick ice hallways between him and them.

But it became clear that the ice was something implemented by Loki. Every piece that fell away revealed more rock within the mountain. The small cave where they had eaten was not a strange space. It was part of a larger network of crags, caverns and hollowed out spaces.

“It’s just one large cave.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “I hollowed the weakened rock and claimed the space.”

“The ice is decorative,” Anthony murmured.

With the layers almost entirely stripped away, it was no more impressive than any other cave. The only thing left to hint at is former grander was the icy throne that Loki had not touched.

“In parts. I am often changing it. One can grow tired of familiar pathways.”

Anthony stepped forward, feeling a brief hint of resistance before Loki let him go. Anthony looked around with astonishment and awe. He felt dwarfed by the shear size of the cavern. The rock was hard against the soles of his boots and each step echoed. He was able to walk in an entirely straight line to his belongings. He could see spots in the rock far above where sunlight beamed in, leaving small to large pockets of light. Some reached all the way to floor.

The entrance to the cavern was opposite the throne and was wide enough to fit at least twenty Asgardians in a line. Without the ice to give the cave its impressive blue glow, the cave managed to be dark and… lonely.

He reached his belongings and touched the chest. He then turned and looked at Loki.

The Jotun had followed behind him silently. He stood in the middle of the cave, his blue skin and gold jewellery was bright against the black rock.

“Why are you showing me this?” Anthony asked.

“Because you have asked,” Loki answered. “Because you are curious. Not many are curious about me.”

“How?” Anthony asked, flabbergasted. “There is not a thing you do that isn’t fascinating. How are people not clamouring to understand you?”

Loki walked forward, closing the distance between them.

“I am the Old One. I am beloved and I am feared.” He stopped in front of Anthony. “Who, save such an unusual and curious Asgardian, would ask questions of me?”

Anthony swallowed. Loki’s gaze was intense. He seemed to be looking through Anthony.

“There is something about you,” the Jotun murmured.

Loki raised his hand and brushed Anthony’s chest. It was close to the mark and Anthony barely managed to repress his flinch.

“Something strange,” Loki continued, his hand moving up until the tips of his fingers brushed Anthony’s throat. Anthony swallowed again. “I cannot place it.”

Anthony both wanted to lean into the caress and run away. His skin tingled at the feel of the Jotun’s cooler touch. But he managed to get control of himself and step back. He smiled tightly.

“I guess we’ll both have things to figure out while I try and make my way to Alfheim.”

Loki’s hand retreated. His expression had also dulled from its earlier sharp fascination. He inclined his head, but Anthony noticed that his lips were downturned more towards a frown than his earlier smiles.

“Yes. We shall.”

He turned and before Anthony could blink his belongings were hovering in the air and following Loki. Snowflakes were beginning to fall and ice was swirling over the stonework like water. Only, it followed a twisting pattern like vines slithering in and out of knots. Anthony could not resist leaning down and touching it. His fingertips brushed it and he hissed immediately and pulled back his hand. It was freezing. He should have expected it, but he hadn’t anticipated such a burn after being warm for so long.

“That is far too cold for you,” Loki chastised.

He was immediately at Anthony’s side. He crouched down and pulled Anthony’s hand away from his body. He was still wincing at the burn. Loki’s hand cradled his and Anthony was distracted by the sight. Loki’s blue hands were so much more beautiful than his calloused and tanned ones. He pressed his fingertips to Anthony’s and it instantly soothed the tender skin. Loki stroked over his palm and fingers carefully. Anthony’s breathing was quick to become shallow and he tried not to lean even closer to the Jotun.

He could not remember the last time anyone had touched him so tenderly nor cared for his wounds.

It made him feel… warm. Something that should not have been possible for a creature of ice, but Anthony could not describe it as anything less than a pleasant heat in his breast.

“Thank you,” Anthony whispered.

“Why would you touch it?” Loki questioned. “You are not born to this element.”

“I couldn’t resist,” Anthony answered, still watching the gentle way Loki was stroking his skin.

“Far too dangerous,” Loki said.

Yet, the words seemed almost automatic and absent. Loki’s hand had begun to swirl similar patterns to the ice on the floor, only he was brushing them over Anthony’s skin. He shivered, but not from the cold. When Loki pulled his hand closer, Anthony allowed it. Loki’s fingers traced over his palm and the lines in his skin. He skimmed his wrist and scrapped his fingernail over Anthony’s thumbnail.

“It is strange to see ones so pale,” Loki remarked.

“It’s strange to see ones that are black,” Anthony countered.

Loki chuckled softly. “And your skin is smooth.”

Anthony felt daring enough to bring up his other hand to run a finger over the raised lines on the back of Loki’s hand. It felt finer than scarring; like the intricate detailing on a vambrace. They were all sleek and ordered. Anthony liked the way they broke up Loki’s skin with darker colours. Loki’s bracelets did a similar thing, encircling his wrist with bright gold. When Anthony touched them they were even colder than his skin.

“What do your lines means?” Anthony questioned.

“Were I natural born Jotun, they would indicate my clan,” Loki answered.

“But yours are something else?”

Loki’s fingers stopped their exploration and he pulled back. Anthony bit down on a sound of protest and was forced to let Loki go. When he met the Jotun’s gaze, his expression was shuttered.

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

The words were a repeat of Anthony’s earlier ones, but they didn’t seem spiteful or as if he was using them against Anthony. They were polite but firm. Anthony could only accept them and he nodded his understanding.

Loki stood and Anthony slowly did the same.

“Come, I shall take you to the place where you will reside.”

Loki turned and started to walk away. Once more, Anthony followed after him. His belongings were still hovering in the air, seemingly carried by nothing but wind and snow flurries. The ice was already rebuilding itself, but Anthony found his gaze on Loki and the white pelt he wore. Anthony rubbed his fingers together. There wasn’t a single mark or pain from the ice remaining, but Anthony wondered if he had not been burned in a different way, for he could not stop remembering the way Loki’s touch had felt.

Loki had taken him to a hollow in the rock not much bigger than the one where they’d eaten. It was dark until Loki had flicked his fingers and a fire burst to life. Six rocks also rolled in from against the walls to form a makeshift barricade around the flames. Three pelts appeared to rest beside the fire. It wasn't until Loki mentioned using them for bedding and getting some sleep that Anthony had realised how tired he was. The ritual had taken his magical reserves, as had the brief battle. While he’d been able to distract himself with talking to Loki, even he wasn't able stay awake forever. Loki had wished him a pleasant evening and left him to his small cavern.

Despite being in a cave on Jotunheim, Anthony found it remarkably easy to strip down to his sleepwear and wrap himself in the pelts beside the fire. It was not as comfortable as a bed, but he could hardly complain. He had a pelt for a pillow and two more around him.

He’d fallen asleep with his mind filled with images of the strange and fascinating creature that was Loki.

The next morning, he stretched and grinned at the still crackling fire. He climbed out from beneath the pelts and changed into a casual tunic and pants. He did pull on his warmer, winter coat and made his way out into the new makeshift hallway. He grinned to find the same ice formations, only these ones had swirls similar to what Anthony had touched the night before. He followed the corridor, hoping it wouldn’t be difficult to find Loki or the place where they’d eaten the previous night.

He hadn’t been walking for long when he heard voices. He quickly made out Loki's and when he came to a fork in the passage, he headed towards the Jotun. The ice walls started to disappear and reveal the black cavern walls. It then opened into the space where he’d first appeared, only, unlike the night before, the ground was covered in soft snowfall. Rock formations also shot up through the floor in large, sharp masses. He hovered his hand over one, but when it radiated with cold, he didn’t follow through and touch it.

When he pushed forward, the snow came up to his ankles but was easy to walk through and didn’t seem to wet his boots. He left footprints in his wake, but if Loki had walked this way, he’d left the snow undisturbed.

The jutting rocks kept what was happening from view, but he could hear an unknown voice speaking about unseasonal snowfall. It caught Anthony’s attention because the voice sounded timid rather than reverent or respectful.

Anthony came around a jutting rock and it enabled him to see Loki’s unchanged, grand ice throne. He was in the exact same outfit as the day before. He was sitting in it regally and looking down at eleven Jotun. Ten were prone on the floor with their faces all but buried in the snow. It was almost amusing. The eleventh Jotun was the one speaking and he was on his knees but facing Loki directly.

He turned at the sound of Anthony’s approach. His puzzled expression immediately turned to anger. It was a switch so sudden that Anthony didn’t have time to widen his eyes before ice blades were forming on the Jotun’s hand.

“Asgardian-ack!”

The ice on the Jotun’s hand melted and he shook his hand as if the action had stung him.

“Good morning, Anthony,” Loki spoke calmly. He didn’t look away from the Jotuns in front of him. “I do hope your first night as a guest in my home was pleasant.”

Anthony had never pictured a Jotun paling, but the male turned an interesting shade of blue.

“Thank you,” Anthony said cautiously. “It was very comfortable.”

“I am pleased.” Loki gaze finally moved from the Jotuns in front of him. “I am attending to matters of the local village. Did you require something?”

“I was just coming to find you and say good morning, maybe share some breakfast.”

Loki’s expression had been frozen in blank disinterest, but at Anthony’s words it finally broke to reveal a small smile.

“I shall be ready to dine with you shortly.”

He turned back to the Jotuns. Anthony had noticed the softening of his features, but he hadn’t realised how much friendlier his voice had been until he spoke to the ones in front of him.

“The winter is not unseasonal,” Loki answered crisply. “It is a pattern of climate that occurs every several hundred years. There are records within the great city. But I assure you, it is not without precedence. I will not alter a pattern that is natural. You will merely need to go further afield for food or invest in greater curing as the villages to the south have long done.”

“But, Old One,” the Jotun hurried to say, "we have a large tribe with many young Jotuns and-”

“And you are rich enough to trade with the nearby villages,” Loki cut in firmly. “I will see no Jotun starve, but I will not interfere when it is within your capabilities. The animals on this realm are entitled to live as much as you. Most of them will thrive in this climate.”

By the end, the Jotun had hunched his shoulders and lowered his head.

Loki didn’t respond for a few moments, seemingly waiting for anything further.

“Is there more?” he finally enquired.

“No, Old One.”

The Jotun lowered into a similar benevolent position, his face touching the snow. He stayed there for a few seconds before rising. When he was on his feet the other Jotun did the same. They trekked out of the cavern without another word, leaving a trail of slushed snow in their wake.

Anthony watched them until he heard the sound of Loki approaching. He turned to the Jotun to find Loki smiling once again.

“I am sorry to have kept you.”

“That’s fine, you’re clearly busy.” Anthony paused, but he could never leave things alone. “They were afraid of you, weren’t they?”

“Yes.” Loki answered. He then sighed. “They are from a nearby village. Many of those near me are convinced I am the cause of any misfortune.”

“What?” Anthony asked, shocked. “Why would they think that?”

Loki shrugged. “I am a being whom they can blame and later plead for leniency. It gives them comfort, I believe.”

Anthony looked back towards the retreating figures.

“The other Jotuns didn’t treat you like that.”

“The ones you encountered are from a northern tribe. They have little contact with me unless they traverse the miles of tundra to ask for my guidance. Few do. I am merely their Old One. Powerful, wise…” he sighed again, “remote.”

It only highlighted what Anthony had realised yesterday. Loki was lonely. If these were the only interactions he gained, it was no wonder he was leaping at the first chance to speak with anyone different.

Anyone who doesn’t fear him or grovel at his feet.

For a moment, Anthony had the sudden, ludicrous thought of asking Loki to come to Alfheim with him – but, he wasn’t sure if it would make any difference. Perhaps the Elves would be just as wary and fearful as the Jotuns?

Then I will just need to be a good companion while I am here.

His decision made, he smiled widely at Loki.

“Well, it is their loss and my gain. Now, I have you all to myself and can pester you with many questions over our morning meal.”

Loki quickly matched him with a large grin.

“I shall answer whatever I am able,” Loki replied.

He also stepped forward until he was at Anthony’s side. He placed a hand on his back and Anthony pulled in a sharp breath. Loki didn’t seem to notice or react, merely offering a soft pressure until Anthony started to walk.

He tried to ignore the feeling, but Anthony found it impossible to disregard, especially when Loki’s hand started to move. It skimmed his back, squeezed his shoulder, brushed his neck and never seemed to stop. When he glanced at the Jotun, Loki seemed unconcerned.

It was clear that Loki merely liked to touch, and Anthony found he liked it just as much.

“Is… is it common for Jotuns to touch each other a lot?”

Loki blinked and his gaze strayed to his hand. “It is natural, yes.”

“Oh.”

“Does it discomfort you?” Loki enquired, seeming concerned.

“It’s not common on Asgard,” Anthony admitted.

“Shall I stop?”

Loki’s expression remained troubled, but Anthony also had to wonder if there was some disappointment in there. If he was as lonely as Anthony was believing him to be, how many opportunities did he have to be this way with others?

It was not normal for Anthony, but he could not deny the warmth it bloomed within him, or his craving for more of it.

Why should I not accept if it shall please us both?

“No,” Anthony said. “No, it’s fine.”

Loki smiled again. His hand strayed up to touch the back of Anthony’s neck. He shivered, but it was hardly from the cold. Loki looked so genuinely happy and Anthony tried not to fixate on the cool, smooth fingertips of the Jotun as they petted the side of his neck.

“Were the pelts sufficient warmth for you over the night?” Loki asked.

“Uh, yes. They were great. And the fire.”

Gods, but it was hard to focus with Loki’s hands on his skin. He just wanted to lean closer to Loki and get another hand touching him.

How have I never known another’s touch to feel so good?

“I can burn more of them if you require,” Loki continued. “The warmth shall not bother me or affect the cavern.”

“Uh, it’s fine.” Anthony cleared his throat, determined to ignore the questing fingers, moving towards his collarbone. “You changed this room.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed, seeming pleased. “I woke early and sought a new sight.”

Anthony nodded, but the fingers now creeping into his hair were becoming unfairly distracting. He ended up humming when Loki scratched his nails over his scalp. Loki laughed, sounding delighted. Anthony hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes but he snapped them open.

He glanced at Loki to find the Jotun's expression surprisingly fond. Sadly, he pulled his hand away shortly after, Anthony pressed his lips together to keep another sound from escaping.

“Enough of that,” Loki said, as if Anthony was the instigator. “We shall eat. Then, we shall speak more.”

It was a reasonable request, so Anthony didn’t complain, even when his skin tingled from Loki’s touch and he only wanted the Jotun’s hands back on him again.

It turned out that regaining Loki’s touch was easier than expected. Once Anthony had given his permission, Loki was persistent in keeping their bodies together. Their meal had been spent sitting on the pelt with only their legs and arms brushing, but once they finished and started to speak, Loki soon ended up behind him and carding fingers through Anthony’s hair. Anthony loved the feeling and was quickly leaning back against the Jotun, giving him better access.

Anthony knew it was odd to trust somebody so quickly and to accept their touches so easily but, Anthony didn’t want to fight it. He could not believe he’d gone centuries of life without this type of casual connection. He wanted to absorb and gain as much of it as possible, especially when he knew it would end sooner than he’d like.

It was a prediction that proved true as Loki was called away by new Jotuns at the mouth of his cave. Anthony equally needed to return to the space Loki had provided to try and devise what had gone wrong in the ritual.

He ended up pulling out most of his packed belongings and sprawling them around the cave as he searched for his few research materials.

Anthony didn’t know how long he had been working, but when his head was inside a chest trying to find a specific tool, Loki startled him.

“I had sensed tools, but not so many.”

Anthony lifted his head. Loki was cross-legged on the stone with his lap half full of crafting implements. He held a hammer in his hands and was eyeing it curiously. Anthony leant back on his knees.

“Sometimes a specific thing is needed.”

“It is such a strange concept,” Loki admitted. “Everything here is forged with seidr or ice. Even spears are hammered with ice we craft onto our hands.”

So, so fascinating!

“That is amazing,” Anthony admitted. “If I was to make a spear, it would be done be melting metal and using hammers and chisels to craft the entirety.”

Loki’s eyes brightened with delight.

“Are you able to craft one?”

Anthony blinked. “Are you asking me to make you a spear?”

“Would you be capable in this space?”

“Uh, well, yeah. If I had the right materials and a hot enough fire.” He frowned thoughtfully. “If you can show me how the Jotuns manipulate the stone, I could probably make one of those.”

“Any way that you craft, I would be curious to see the process.”

Anthony grinned. “Well then, let’s work something out. You’re letting me stay here and feeding me. The least I can do is make you a spear. If you have any spare gold, I can do some inlay too.”

Loki put down the hammer and pulled off one of his bracelets. He held it out. “Will this be sufficient to mould into it?”

Anthony rose and walked over to Loki. He took the bracelet and checked its weight and density.

“I can definitely use this. Maybe make a few rings of gold around the top.”

“Tell me what else you require to start.”

“Well, we’re unlikely to have any mined metal I can work with, so if you can show me the rock and how it’s melded, I can work out a way to do it myself.”

Loki hurriedly but gently shifted all the tools from his lap and placed them on the ground. He then stood and held out his hand.

“I shall take you to a village. They will show you.”

Anthony looked for a place to put down the bracelet, but Loki quickly grasped it and before Anthony could blink, he had slipped it over Anthony’s wrist. The gold was cool against his skin. When he looked down, he swallowed at seeing it knock against the leather vambraces he’d put on to assist with the cold.

Instead of letting him go, Loki grasped his hand and linked their fingers. He pulled Anthony out of the cavern he’d made his own, but they didn’t move directly into the hallway, instead, the snow flurries Anthony had grown used to appeared around them and the next thing he knew, he was in a Jotun village.

The buildings were small and circular with stone walls and pointed roofs. The Jotuns nearby all froze before giving Loki low bows. He didn’t acknowledge them, merely dragging Anthony through the middle of the village. Anthony could feel the anger and confused glares on his back. He also heard the whispers start. No doubt on account of him holding the ‘Old One’s’ hand and wearing his golden bracelet.

When they were in the very centre, Loki raised his voice and called, “I require the demonstration of the construction of a spear.”

There was a pause where nothing happened before five Jotun men all hurried forward to offer their services. Loki turned to him with a small, pleased upturn of his mouth. Anthony already knew, had they been alone, that grin would have been bright and wide. He was disappointed he could not see the full force of it, so instead, he made up for it by responding with beaming smile and a squeeze of Loki’s hand.

In response, Loki’s expression softened, but it was only for a moment before they were both distracted by the Jotuns and the technique of crafting Jotunheim spears. While Anthony knew the Jotuns were still hostile towards him, he hoped to be able to win them over with his curiosity and love for crafting.

After all, was it not said, a craftsman’s language was universal no matter the place of his birth?

The Jotuns did not take to him immediately, but by the end of the spear melding process, the two he was working with were actually grunting out what could almost be called laughs at some of his comments. They also started to answer his questions with less hostility and more grudging respect. One of them even seemed curious about his processes.

It was by no means an immediate friendship, and Anthony knew he would have been slaughtered had he not arrived with Loki, but it made him feel reasonably confident that were he given enough time, he could win them over.

Loki had remained in the village during the process, answering questions from the local populace and listening to their complaints and general chatter. He sometimes wandered over to check on him and ask how he was faring.

Anthony didn’t forget the first time he'd rambled at Loki and heard the small, sharp, intakes of breath from the Jotuns when Loki had smiled at him. Anthony hoped that by the end of his time on Jotunheim at least some of the Jotuns might come to see Loki as more than just a being to respect or fear.

When they finished, Anthony had profusely thanked the Jotuns. They’d accepted and had also given him the spear. Apparently, they’d had no need of it. He’d enthusiastically spun the spear and shown Loki. When Loki had thanked them, the Jotuns had seemed both awed and proud.

Once they’d returned to the cave, Anthony had gone on to speak, at length, about what he had been shown and the inventive way the Jotuns had crafted their weapons. He already wished to create more items using the process. Breastplates, swords, shields. There was no limit to what could be crafted if it was only properly treated and implemented.

Loki had laughed fondly and led him to the makeshift kitchen for lunch.

Anthony hadn’t realised how much he’d missed Loki’s touches until the Jotun started stroking his shoulders and combing through his hair. Anthony had laid down the spear beside the pelt and rested close, continuing to theorise with Loki while not losing any more of the Jotun's caresses.

The moment they’d finished eating, however, he’d all but ran to his makeshift room and started preparing to craft the weapon. Loki had followed along more passively, but no less keenly.

Although it should have been his priority, Anthony found the ritual to transport him to Alfheim was completely forgotten. The only thing on his mind was taking what he had learned from the Jotuns and crafting something better.

Loki was helpful, giving him the crafting materials, stoking the fire and even holding things in place for him as he worked. Anthony talked throughout; explaining what he was doing and answering any questions the Jotun had.

Despite his obvious interest, Loki wasn’t present the entire time. He was sometimes called away by visitors to his cave, but every spare moment was spent sitting or standing a few feet from him. Anthony felt happy whenever he was nearby. He’d never had someone who was interested in what he was doing and happy to help the process.

Loki wanted to understand. He also continued to touch Anthony whenever possible. A hand on his back, stroking his arm or skimming through his hair. Anthony found the touches to be balms on his frustrated mind or tired body. Loki also coaxed him away in order to eat as well as banked the fires when he needed sleep.

Anthony was enjoying every moment.

It took him three days, and when he finished crafting it, he circled the top of the shaft with thin gold bands, as he’d promised. He'd felt a small sting of disappointment to be pulling off the bracelet he had worn since Loki had given it to him, but he knew it was not his to keep. Once completed, he'd then spun to face Loki and presented it with a flourish. The Jotun had grasped it and then taken Anthony’s hand. They’d appeared on the top of a snowdrift and Loki had proceeded to spin, throw and brandish the spear as if he had been born with it in his hand.

Anthony had never seen a sight more elegant or beautiful.

When he’d finished, Loki's eyes were bright and his smile wide. “This is a marvellous creation."

He’d then touched the top of the spear where the head met the shaft. Spikes of ice had appeared, curving upwards in an almost flower-like pattern. Anthony had come closer to see, watching as Loki added a black rope which tied around the shaft below the gold rings. Two black and one white feather dangled from it.

In the work of moments, the staff had become something ornate and regal. It looked like an object befitting the legendary ‘Old One’.

“Thank you, Anthony,” he'd said.

He’d then come forward and clasped, not Anthony’s shoulder or arm, but his neck. Anthony had swallowed, the cool touch still setting his body alight despite days of experiencing it.

“You’re welcome,” he’d replied.

The moment had felt like it stretched for eternity.

When Loki had followed it by offering his hand and taking Anthony for a walk through the frozen wilds of Jotunheim, Anthony had forgotten everything that wasn’t Loki and his stories.

He told tales of Jotunheim’s history, the animals that lived on it and the larger kingdoms where the rulers resided. He didn’t speak of his own history and Anthony almost forgot that the being holding his hand was so much more than anything any Jotun or Asgardian could ever be.

But he remembered it every time the wind blew and he only felt warm. Because, it took a being of Loki’s power to keep him heated without a blink of his eye or a moment of strain.

They had spent hours on the snow and it felt like a brief interlude where Anthony's goals and plans had faded to the wayside to make way for pleasure, creativity and Loki. But with Loki’s spear now made, there was nothing to keep Anthony from the ritual that had brought him to Jotunheim.

When they’d returned to the cave, Anthony had regrettably retired to his room. He’d packed up his crafting items and started getting out the ones needed for his research.

When he’d heard footsteps approaching, he’d looked up. Loki was standing in the entrance to the cavern, his spear in his hand. The light of the single fire showed the way the Jotun’s expression was pinched.

“Your ritual,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Anthony said, trying to keep his disappointment at bay. “It’s time I worked out what went wrong.”

“Yes,” Loki said.

He also stepped into the room, coming up to Anthony where he was bent over his chest once again. Loki’s fingers came to his hair, gently brushing the strands. Anthony’s eyes closed, enjoying the touch. But it ended all too soon. Loki’s hand moved, resting on his shoulder and squeezing gently.

“I wish you well on your research,” he said softly. “I shall return when it is time for our evening meal.”

He turned and started to walk away. Anthony scrambled to his feet.

“Wait!” Loki paused and looked over his shoulder. “You’re not staying?”

“No,” Loki said. He turned his head, looking at the spear in his hand. “I think that is not wise.”

“Why not?”

“It is magic I am not fond of,” Loki answered. “I cannot be certain of my reaction to it.”

Anthony frowned, puzzled by the statement, but before he could ask, Loki left. Anthony stared after him, trying to understand it. But magic was not his forte, it was why he had planned to seek out the Elves.

Yet, unlike as it had done for months, the thought of the Elven realm and channelling the energy inside him didn’t fill him with joy, but regret.

They might be able to teach him about his seidr, but they would not have Loki.

I can hardly expect to stay on Jotunheim and live forever in Loki’s cave.

He doubted any Jotun would want him on the realm indefinitely, and even if Loki enjoyed his company and the ways in which he was different, it wasn’t enough to put his entire life on hold.

He had to get to Alfheim, because there was nothing for him on Jotunheim.

Nothing but Loki.

But Anthony shook that thought away. After all, he was a fascinating being, but he was the Old One. How could he ever consider Anthony anything other than a curiosity? Was he even enough to garner the role of a friend?

Anthony didn’t know and he wasn’t confident enough to ask.

From then on, Anthony threw himself into working on the ritual, but where it had plagued his mind on Asgard, he found it difficult to concentrate on Jotunheim.

It did not help that every hour that Loki did not spend with him was an hour where he started to jitter and rub his neck. He missed Loki’s constant touches. They had become familiar and comforting. On more than one occasion, he sought out Loki, needing to see what the Jotun was doing.

Loki was often in his main room, sitting on his throne. The spear was frequently on his lap or being fiddled with as he stared at the feathers. The moment he appeared, Loki would smile and rise from the throne to speak with him. His spear would often be left in his place or disappear entirely.

The best part would be when Loki reached him and immediately started to touch him. Anthony felt all his tension leave him, especially if Loki’s hands lightly massaged his shoulders and neck. Anthony would always be the one to break the silence and ask about Loki’s day.

He would close his eyes and listen to him speak of Jotunheim, imagining the wilds of the realm and chuckling over the Jotuns who’d visited him. But soon enough, Loki would ask after his progress with the ritual. His voice would be tight, or a pinched expression would cross his face.

Anthony would always answer, usually with a mutter about a lack of materials, knowledge or seidr. Loki always made suggestions of improvement or gave advice, but Anthony was sure he did not miss the glimmer of relief in Loki’s eyes.

Anthony just tried to enjoy the time sitting with Loki and feeling his touches.

One evening, they’d had an early dinner and Anthony hadn’t wanted to return to his room immediately. Somehow, as they’d talked, he’d ended up pressed against Loki's chest, and then more firmly snuggled against him with Loki’s arms wrapped around his waist. Anthony didn’t know how they had managed it, but he had almost drifted off to sleep in that comfortable position.

It had been a shame when Loki had roused him.

Returning to his room and his makeshift bed had never been so hard. Loki had lingered in the hall before wishing him a good rest. He’d left and Anthony had nearly rushed after him, but a lack of what to say had kept him rooted to the spot.

He’d ended up barely sleeping, unable to shut off his mind. He’d worked on the ritual, but every way he'd tackled it, Anthony couldn’t find a reason why it had not worked. He’d drawn things perfectly and used all the right materials. Loki had informed him that his magic did not lend to that kind of practice– but then, why had it worked at all? By all accounts, it should have fizzled out and left him in Asgard or disintegrated him and his belongings entirely.

Nothing could account for him landing here.

He was in a foul mood the next morning and not even Loki’s soft touches over breakfast could settle his mind. The ritual hung over his head like a black cloud. When another two hours passed in his room without any true resolution, Anthony threw down his quill and parchment and left the room.

He yearned for Loki’s company and hoped it could solve some of the emotions roiling through him. He found the Jotun on his throne once again, this time his spear was leaning beside it. He was staring up at the ceiling, his head tilted back. He turned his head when Anthony approached. He gave a smile and started to shift.

But something burst through Anthony and he hurried his steps. He remembered the pure comfort he’d felt wrapped in the Jotun’s arms. He wanted that again. His actions didn’t go unnoticed and Loki paused.

“Anthony?”

He hesitated before dropping down at the foot of the throne, between the Jotun’s legs. Loki sucked in a breath, but Anthony pressed his back to the solid ice and tilted his head up between the man’s legs. Loki’s eyes were wide.

“It’s been a bad day,” Anthony admitted.

Loki immediately leant forward and started to stroke his hair. Anthony turned his face back around to look towards the mouth of the cave. He hesitated a moment before tentatively bringing his hands to curl around Loki’s legs. One was just below his knee, the other on his calf. Loki sighed softly and Anthony did the same.

There was something so peaceful in sitting here. This was the spot where Loki held his counsels. His throne. A place where, if he wished, he could take control of Jotunheim. And here Anthony was, a simple Asgardian with barely any magic, at the foot of such a grand throne, being gently caressed by its owner as if he was a precious treasure.

Anthony had never felt so content or wanted.

Closing his eyes, Anthony didn’t even flinch when Loki’s hand went over his chest, almost brushing the mark hidden behind his winter tunic. When he'd first arrived, he couldn't imagine explaining his past to Loki, but in this moment, he felt like he could trust Loki with anything.

As Loki continued, Anthony let the soothing touches Loki bestowed calm his mind and body, Anthony's breathing evening out and slowed. The ritual was causing him undue trouble and he hated having a problem he could not fix, but every day he failed was another one spent with Loki. And Gods, but he did want more time with the Jotun.

Loki ran a finger over his forehead and then his eyebrow. Anthony didn't realise there was a small frown until he relaxed and it faded. Loki’s fingers brushed his throat and he shivered, no longer at the chill, but the light tickling motion. He no longer noticed the chill of Loki's skin or even the space around him. He knew Loki was responsible. He was doing an accountable number of things to keep him safe and healthy. It meant he had no fear of the Jotun and was completely at ease. He didn’t even react when he heard Loki shift, his numerous gold ornaments clinking with the motion.

The sound of Loki was so engrained and comforting, that it only made his smile widen.

When Loki gently tilted back his head with a hand on his cheek and fingers under his jaw, Anthony didn’t fight it at all. He was not expecting anything but more caresses. It was why he was startled and entirely unprepared for hair to brush his face a moment before lips were pressed against his own.

Anthony’s eyes snapped open, but all he saw was blue skin and black hair until Loki pulled back. He looked unsure, nervous even. Loki’s thumb stroked his cheek, edging to his lips.

“Is that not what Asgardians do when they like another?” Loki questioned.

Anthony’s lips parted and he swallowed, trying to get his thoughts in order. His stomach was under attack by fluttering wings and his lips still tingled.

“J-Jotuns do something else?”

“No, they do the same,” Loki answered, still stroking Anthony’s cheek. “But I care what you do.” He frowned. “And my welcome at bestowing it.”

The Jotun's worry had Anthony moving instinctively. He let the Jotun’s leg go in order to cup the hand still against his face.

“It’s welcome,” he whispered, knowing as he said it that it was true.

He hadn’t dared to think about it, not when Loki was so much more than he was. He hadn’t even been daring enough to think of friendship let alone anything remotely romantic.

But his words prompted Loki’s wide smile which showed his teeth. He then bent down again and pressed their mouths together. This time, Anthony kissed back.

Yet as much as he wanted to respond more deeply, the angle did not do them any favours. He was soon touching the side of Loki’s head. The strands were unexpectedly soft and when his fingers briefly brushed a horn, he felt an eagerness to explore and learn the many contours and ridges.

However, he refused to be dissuaded from his goal. He gently pushed Loki back. The Jotun made a noise of disappointment, and he was frowning when Anthony opened his eyes.

“Anthony?”

He shuffled until he was on his knees. He then turned and placed his hands on Loki’s thighs.

“We need to improve the position," he said with a smile.

Loki matched his grin. He also bent forward, not to kiss him, but to grasp his waist and pull him closer. Anthony was soon on his feet and climbing onto the throne. He didn’t straddle the Jotun, instead, he sat across him, Loki’s arms around his waist and tucking him against his chest. Anthony grinned and grazed his fingers over the Jotun’s golden necklaces.

“I never expected to share a throne with someone.”

Loki chuckled. He also leant forward and nuzzled Anthony’s cheek. “It is not but a mound of ice, but I shall happily share it with you, Anthony.”

While it warmed Anthony to hear, it made him think of the whole reason he had come to Loki in the first place. And what will we do now? He looked at Loki’s chest, tracing his fingers over the patterns adorning the Jotun’s body. When he reached the centre of his chest, something… changed. Loki's skin seemed to glow a very light blue in the centre. Anthony startled and pulled his fingers back.

Loki, however, grabbed his wrist and pressed it back to his chest. The blue glowed between his fingers. He looked up at the Jotun to find him smiling.

“The core of my magic,” Loki admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“I am more than a Jotun,” he said. “I am a Jotun, but within me is housed the magic of this world. A power as old as time and filled with the ice of ancient winters.” He smiled sadly. “It is why I have no clan markings. My lines are that of broken ice and rocky crags."

Loki stroked his thumb over Anthony’s hand.

“And it means, Anthony, that I can never leave this realm. It would wither without me.”

Anthony swallowed. He had not expected that, but it made sense why Loki hadn’t wanted to talk about it. The Asgardians were an enemy and Loki had all but pointed out his weak spot.

But Anthony would never betray Loki or do anything to threaten him.

“I promise, Loki. I won't tell anyone,” he whispered.

“I know,” Loki agreed softly.

Anthony stroked his thumb over the blue light within Loki, smiling when it seemed to pulse against his fingers. As if, maybe, it was happy. Yet, a moment later, it seemed to dim. He glanced up to see a sad expression on Loki’s face.

“I cannot follow you to Alfheim.” Loki said. “I know that is where you yearn to be and how you will learn to control your fledgling seidr.”

Anthony had forgotten all about the ritual, overwhelmed by Loki as he so easily was. Because Loki was fascinating. He encouraged him, liked him and clearly didn’t give a damn about Anthony’s race.

And my magic hasn’t flared up once since I’ve been here.

Anthony did a quick calculation, weighing up everything but quickly coming to a decision.

“Who says I need to go to Alfheim this year?” Anthony asked. “Who says I need to go at all?” Loki looked surprised and Anthony brought a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. “I just wanted a way to learn how to use my magic,” he continued. “I wanted to be safe to be who I am without looking over my shoulder for an Einherjar. If I can get that on Jotunheim and with you. Why would I need to go anywhere else?”

It took a moment, but Loki soon beamed. Anthony didn’t think he’d ever seen Loki so happy. He ducked forward and kissed Anthony. Anthony responded back, wrapping an arm around Loki’s neck as he enjoyed the fresh, cool touch of Loki’s lips against his own.

It was only when Loki’s hand grazed his chest and his fingers tried to sneak under the material that Anthony flinched automatically and pulled away.

“Anthony?” Loki asked with concern.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. "Instinct."

Loki frowned and looked down at his chest. His hand hovered in the air above it.

“You do not like being touched there.”

Anthony was tense, but he tried to relax. He trusted Loki, and more than that, he knew the Jotun would never condemn him for magic use.

“I have a mark,” Anthony admitted, feeling some of his tension ease as he started speaking. “I got it years ago when I was attacked and almost died.” He brought a hand to his chest. “It’s almost a scar. I think it formed when my magic was released. But I can’t find any indication of what it is.” He smiled wryly. “But I knew if any Asgardian saw it, they would know it was not natural. I could not risk being found out as a seidr user. I hoped I might discover its secrets on Alfheim.”

He lifted his head only to find Loki’s red eyes were wide and he looked shocked.

“Loki?” he asked, frowning.

“Please, Anthony,” Loki said, sounding shook. “May I see it?”

Anthony had never seen Loki look so taken aback. While he still felt self-conscious and uncomfortable to show something he had hidden for so long. He nodded and loosened the buttons and ties of his black tunic. It was beneath a red and gold outer layer which he luckily didn’t have to remove. When there was enough of a gap, he pulled it aside to be able to reveal the marking.

Loki breathed heavily and his fingers hovered above it.

The scarring was an unnatural colour, his own skin tone mixing with something ash-like to give it dark blackish veins. It didn’t hurt to touch, but it was raised above his skin in a series of lines spreading out from a smaller, circular shape.

When Loki’s finger touched it, Anthony jolted as something warm shoot through him. He looked down only for his eyes to widen. The entire network of scarring was glowing a soft blue - just like Loki's chest.

“What…?” he murmured.

“It is unbelievable,” Loki whispered. “I thought it had not worked.”

Anthony dragged his gaze from his chest. “What do you mean?”

Loki pulled back his hand, taking the warmth and glow with it. Loki’s eyes were still wide and he swallowed.

“I do not seek out other magics,” Loki whispered. “But I was so very alone, Anthony. But there is old magic within the universe. My core is old magic and centuries ago, I tampered with it.”

Loki looked away, he seemed almost ashamed. Anthony reached out for his hand and took it, squeezing gently. Loki flicked his gaze to Anthony before down to their hands.

“I sought a companion,” he admitted. “I sought something new. But the magic did not respond to me and I believed it had ignored my actions. This proves it did not.”

“My scar? What is it?”

“A bonding mark,” Loki admitted. Anthony’s eyes widened, but Loki hurried to continued, “Partly. It cannot be a true one because I do not have one. I cannot. Or rather, we cannot. Our magic is too incompatible.”

Anthony frowned. “So why do I have it?”

“Because we are compatible. The universe did not ignore that.”

“And it saved me,” Anthony whispered as the cogs in his head started to turn.

Because, he’d never had any inkling of magic until he’d been ambushed in an alley and left for dead. But it had drawn something out of him, healed him and left him unable to discover anything to explain it.

“It did,” Loki agreed. “And it drew you here.”

Anthony’s eyes widened. “It altered the ritual so we would meet.”

“Yes,” Loki replied. He let out a heavy breath. “I am sorry, Anthony.”

Anthony frowned and met the man’s anguished gaze.

“Why?” Anthony asked. He frowned. “Is it influencing me in some way?”

“No,” Loki hurried to say. “No, it is not invasive. It would not do anything to you. It sought us to meet, yes, but beyond that, it has lain dormant. It is not in its nature to react. It is merely… there. Searching for me, perhaps, but it cannot truly connect.”

Anthony was relieved to hear it. He'd read about magical bonds with animals and other mages, and he hadn't noticed any warning signs, but it was relieving to know there was nothing untoward. He trusted Loki to know what he was talking about and tell him the truth.

Still, he did have more questions.

“Why did it glow blue when you touched it?”

Loki licked his lips. “It accepts my core. Perhaps, if given time, it might allow you some manner of ability to control the ice of Jotunheim, as if you were a Jotun yourself.”

So, so fascinating!

Anthony itched to leap off the throne if only to try and experiment with the magic within him and see what else might happen if Loki touched it – but Loki was still looking at him with distress.

He brought his hands to the Jotun’s cheeks, cupping them gently.

“It’s all right, Loki. I know you didn’t do anything to harm me.” He smiled. “You just wanted the chance to meet someone who would spend time with you – who could like you for who you are.” He stroked his thumbs over the man’s cheeks. “And I did that before either of us knew about what had happened.”

“I can attempt to undo it,” Loki hurried to say, his gaze earnest. “I do not ever wish to make you uncomfortable with me.”

Anthony shook his head. “You couldn’t do that, Loki. Since the moment we met, you’ve only wanted to keep me safe and get to know me.”

Loki tentatively wrapped his arms around Anthony again.

“Then you will still stay?” Loki enquired.

“Of course,” Anthony agreed with a grin. “Consider me the latest inhabitant of Jotunheim.”

Loki smiled with relief and leaned in again. Anthony met him halfway, kissing him enthusiastically and feeling excited about what the future would hold. His mark was not a blemish, but an ancient magic that had allowed him to find an incredible Jotun hidden in a cave.

Anthony had always believed he was unlucky and that any interference from the Fates would be to his detriment - but in this moment, he felt as if it was the opposite. That he had instead been guided to a place to give him the freedom and happiness he’d craved. To have it be shared with a being he could so easily come to love? Well, Anthony could not imagine a happier outcome nor a better use of gold. It was without doubt, the best failed ritual of transportation he could ever have hoped for.