Learning Acceptance

by STARSdidathing

Summary:

The heat of passion only burns once in a Jotnar’s life and Anthony's match is found in the most unlikely and painful place.

Notes:

• Translation into Deutsch available: Akzeptanz erlernen by moonchild_94

Chapter 1

Notes:

THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A SINGLE FICLET. IT REALLY WAS. THEN I COULDN'T RESIST WRITING MORE XD

Anthony was a fool.

A glutton for punishment and a shame to his entire race – but Anthony just couldn’t stop. He’d never thought this would happen. He’d never planned it. He’d been prepared to hate on sight and blast ice in the face of any arrogant Aesir that dared to ‘negotiate’ with them.

But, he’d been chosen because he was the sharpest mind. He was the most diplomatic of all the Jotnar. He was the one most likely to forge a treaty with Asgard.

His race hated the Aesir. They were a vile and destructive enemy. His meeting with the Crown Prince had only furthered his disgust. The Allfather was of a similar breed. He’d been irritated and using his wit without difficulty – until a voice had spoken.

Prince Loki.

The man whom, Anthony later learned, was not meant to be on Asgard. He had been sent to Alfheim but had returned early. He wasn’t meant to be part of the talks, but Loki had snuck inside and retorted to Anthony’s remark.

His polite smile had been a thin veneer over his disdain and Anthony had met him word for word. He forgot that he was versing a brutish Aesir. The King and Queen of Asgard had watched them with a strange fear. Perhaps, expecting them to come to some kind of blow – or to ruin their realms attempt at forging an alliance.

But, Anthony found himself… curious about the second prince.

And with a few careful words, he was able to nominate Prince Loki as his chosen negotiator. The Prince looked both annoyed and intrigued.

Because their races did hate each other and they did tell horror stories of each other to their children (Anthony was not so daft he didn’t realise they were both similar in that regard).

And yet, as the days turned into weeks, Anthony grew intrigued. He grew fascinated.

Something underneath his skin erupted with a heat he’d never felt before.

(The heat of passion, the Jotnar called it. A feeling only a rare few gained when they aligned so completely with another. It was meant to only occur in Jotnar for Jotnar – but it was in his blood, boiling over every time he looked at an Asgardian Prince. And he was terrified, but he wanted and soon not even the terror could keep him from how much he yearned.)

Anthony started to stand close. To raise his temperature enough it wouldn’t make the prince flinch. He started to talk about more than negotiations. Even when he shouldn’t – when Einherjar and his own guards were lingering in the corners of the rooms.

But Loki’s gaze was just as curious. A mind fluttering with questions and knowledge when both their worlds had given so little about the other.

Anthony asked about him – and Loki started to ask about him.

And they talked.

A brutish, vile Aesir was who Anthony fell asleep thinking of and who he woke desiring to see. Anthony could not pull away or shake his infatuation. He did not care about the pale skin or the green eyes. He could only see the bright mind and feel the heat the Aesir inspired.

And the day he made Prince Loki laugh; his heart erupted with delight. He smiled and he dared to lean in, to have another quip on his tongue even as his fingers danced out to touch the prince’s arm and – and Loki saw.

His eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Something like desire flashed through his eyes – but horror was next, and he scrambled out of his chair. Anthony grabbed his wrist quickly.

“Loki-”

“Unhand me,” Loki hissed lowly.

But he did it lowly where the guards would not hear or see. Where the commotion would not draw their attention yet.

Because - because they liked one another, did they not? Something burned within them that was mutual underneath all the animosity and confusion and fear.

“Loki,” he said again, his voice low and pleading. “Please. It is okay.”

Loki laughed harshly. He also yanked violently until Anthony was forced to release his grip. Loki’s face had gone cold and emotionless. It hurt Anthony – as sharp and powerful as a blade of ice.

“You are a Jotnar,” he spat the word. “A monster – and I will never see you as anything more.”

Anthony flinched and his shoulders hunched. Loki’s expression flickered for a moment – a brief falter before it seemed to harden further.

He turned on his heel and strode away. Anthony watched him leave with a cracking heart – because the heat of passion only burned once in a Jotnar’s life.

And his burned for an Asgardian Prince who would never accept him.

Notes:

I'll try and update this every few days/at least once a week. We'll see how my schedule goes. The chapters vary in length but are generally longer than this one.

Thanks for reading :D

Chapter 2

Notes:

So, the turn of this chapter might surprise a few people. But hopefully you still like it!

Anthony was in his home.

He had been there for much of the last two months. The treaty had been completed several weeks ago. Laufey had nodded his approval of the final document. He still despised the Aesir and would rather see them torn to shreds – but, sense had finally been seen.

While Anthony and the many Jotnar who had talked to the King understood his grief for his destroyed planet, lost subjects, and slaughtered son – they needed to survive.

Anthony kept up a stoic face in public. He nodded and even joined in with the derogatory comments about the Asgardians but – not about Loki. Never about Loki. He also returned to his home and let the mask slide from his face. He collapsed beside his work table where he created wonders with ice – and he thought of his Prince.

Because the heat of passion still burnt strongly for a man a world away. He closed his eyes and pictured the prince’s smirking face and remembered his sharp words.

Loki had barely spoken to him in the final weeks. He stood stiff and kept a wide berth between them. He even brought in other mediators to limit their chances to talk alone – or to touch. But Anthony didn’t try to touch the prince again.

He did catch the man’s gaze more than once. Silently pleading for some kind of chance to make his case, to form something that was more than harsh words and cold sneers. But Loki always looked away from him.

And, in the end he never got an opportunity to speak with Loki again.

Anthony knew he probably never would.

Laufey wouldn’t send him to the Aesir again. They might have political meets once every few decades, but neither realm wanted to associate beyond the bare minimum. If Anthony started asking, they would be suspicious.

If he admitted what had happened… no one would take his words seriously. No one would understand. He would be hated, even when there was nothing he could do. When he couldn’t change how he felt.

He’d be vilified and any sliver of a chance to see Loki again would disappear like ice under the sun.

His only chance was to prove himself useful on a future diplomatic mission – and that meant appeasing Laufey and the court more than he ever had. His tongue was smooth, that was well known, but he had to retain his favour longer than he had ever planned to try.

But, for a chance to see Loki again, he would do what he needed. No matter the time it would take him.

For now, he sat at his desk, fiddling absently with the ice he was carving. Much of his absent sculptures of late had featured horned helms, sharp daggers and, more damning of all, an Asgardian flower. He’d only seen it once, but Loki had declared it his favourite and Anthony had committed it to memory.

It was common in courtships to carve a likeness of a Jotun’s favourite objects. It proved their skill and mastery over their craft and their knowledge of their beloved’s preferences.

Not for the first time, Anthony gritted his teeth and sent a pulse of cold into the ice, distorting the temperature and making it shatter. The pieces barely hurt even as they hit his hand, arm and face. They were nothing on the ache in his heart.

He missed the prince. He missed him and yearned for him and he had no way to see him again. Not for at least another two decades.

And what then? Would he see Loki married? Would the Aesir be killed on some brutish adventure through space before they met again? Would the man still hate him? Anthony shuddered. He wanted to rush off his realm and onto Loki’s. He wanted to talk to him again – to touch him and beg for a chance.

Anthony closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands. He likely would have stayed there for most of the night (he had in the past; lost in wistful, yearning thoughts) had a sudden wave of seidr not stiffened his spine. He spun around, ice already forming in his hands – but then he registered the seidr. He also registered who was on his knees.

“Loki,” he gasped.

He dropped the ice and rushed forward. The prince was on the floor, his hands in his hair and his breath coming in harsh gasps. Anthony’s gaze ran over him, searching for an injury – but he saw nothing.

He lowered himself to a crouch in front of the Aesir, his hands hovering above but not touching the prince.

“Loki?” he said again, his voice low and concerned. “What is wrong? What can I do?”

Loki’s breath shuddered out of him. It was almost a sob – and Anthony acted without thought. He touched the man through his jacket.

But Loki flinched away and curled further into himself. Pain lanced through Anthony’s heart, but he swallowed it down. He dropped his hand and fisted it on his leg.

“Loki,” he tried again. “Can I-”

“It’s not you,” he hissed. “I wanted it to be you. But it’s not.” He finally did sob, a wretched, pained sound. “And I… I need…

“What do you need?” Anthony asked, he was willing to do anything for Loki.

The prince raised his head. Anthony wanted to slaughter whoever put the devastation, confusion and agony on the man’s face.

“Safety,” he whispered.

Anthony immediately swore, “My house is yours. I will let no one take you from here against your will.”

The words, rather than comforting, made another bitter, broken sound escape Loki’s lips. Anthony didn’t know what to do, but he so desperately wanted to help.

He tentatively tried to place his hand on the man again. He flinched once more, but unlike before it wasn’t as violent and when Anthony lowered his palm a third time, Loki did not shy from him. Anthony gently stroked the man’s back, trying to understand what had made the prince come to him of all beings.

Anthony was his greatest enemy and he’d all but swore never to change his opinion. So why was he now on the floor of Anthony’s home, asking him for sanctuary?

Chapter 3

It took him an hour to get the prince off the floor. He looked shattered and Anthony trailed behind him, his hands fluttering over the prince’s back as he took the man to sit on his bedding.

His home was larger than many of his fellows, but nothing on the luxury of the Aesir. His house and furniture were built from stone and ice. It was a circular space and had not needed dividers or additional bedding as he lived alone. He offered the prince his bed before rushing to the trunk which carried the pelts that he had won in tournaments for his ice melding and prowess in battle.

Jotuns only ever wore pelts on formal occasions or gifted them to their spouses. Anthony had merely shoved them to the side as unnecessary items he did not need. He was glad he kept them as he was able to proffer them to Loki and wrap them around the prince.

Strangely, the man did not seem as cold as he expected an Aesir to be when inside his home.

When the man was bundled in them, Anthony’s heart twisted with a sharp yearning and delight to see Loki surrounded in white and black fur. His fur. His prizes finally given to the spouse he desired.

But Anthony swallowed those feelings down and tried to lock them tightly away.

You are a Jotnar. A monster – and I will never see you as anything more.

Loki’s words still haunted him, even now. A harsher rejection he could not have imagined – but… but Loki had come to him. Perhaps he was a last resort, but it must mean something that he was an option at all.

Anthony hovered beside the prince.

“Can I… do you require anything, Loki?” he questioned. “I can procure food, or a drink? Do you need-”

“No,” Loki said, his voice harsh.

His eyes were closed and his face turned ever so slightly to bury in the pelt. Anthony’s heart stuttered at the gesture.

He wanted to press against the prince and hold him close. He wanted to comfort Loki and rain down pain and slaughter on his enemies – but, he doubted the prince wanted either of those actions from him.

“Would you like me to leave you?” Anthony asked softly.

Loki’s eyes snapped open and they looked at him. For once, they seemed to be seeing him and Anthony almost wished it hadn’t occurred. Loki’s gaze looked pained, horrified and oh so shattered. It looked as if he did not want to look at him. A theory only confirmed when the prince quickly averted his eyes and stared at the furs.

You are a Jotnar. A monster.

Anthony swallowed. It hurt more than he wanted to admit – but, his prince had come to him. His prince was here. It meant something. It had to.

But, when Loki didn’t speak, Anthony’s hope dwindled. He swallowed and stepped backwards. He didn’t look at the prince as he turned to leave.

“Don’t,” Loki said, the word sounding ripped from him.

Anthony looked back. The prince met his gaze. He looked turbulent and afraid, but he repeated the word again. “Don’t.”

Something bright burst through his chest. The heat of passion erupting strong enough to burn – but sweetly, it left him feeling warm all over.

It was why Anthony stepped close. The prince tensed minutely but Anthony lowered himself to the floor. He sat with his body pressed against the stone frame of the bed. He saw Loki swallow before he drew his legs up to his chest. There was a space between them which kept them from touch, but after months of being worlds apart, the space might as well have disappeared.

He could look at his prince, hear his breath and catch his scent on the air. Loki was in his home, on his bed, surrounded by his pelts. Anthony did not know what had happened or what had caused the prince such pain, but Loki had come to him and if the prince wanted him to say, not even Laufey or the Allfather would move him.

---

Anthony drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t hard. He hadn’t slept well since leaving Asgard. Despite the prince’s obvious distress, just having Loki beside him was enough to let him relax.

When he woke up, the chill in the air was indicative of early morning. He’d slept through the night. His body was sore from the positioning but his face was pressed against something warm. He focused his eyes and realised that he’d drifted in his sleep to be closer to the prince. His face was on one of the pelts and beneath it was Loki’s leg. He drew in a sharp breath and lifted his head. The prince was asleep on his bed. He was surrounded in furs and one leg was pulled up to his chest, but the other was held out. It was dangling off the bed and… and allowing Anthony to rest against it.

It has to mean something, he thought desperately. It has to.

Because Anthony had almost second-guessed that what they felt was mutual. Loki had pushed him away so strongly and refused all contact. Far away on Jotunheim, he’d started to doubt himself. Now, he felt a new blossoming hope.

He dared to lift his hand and place it where his face had been resting. He gently stroked the mage’s leg through fur and leather. Loki let out a shuddering sigh. Anthony smiled sadly at his prince. He still did not know what had happened, but he was determined to help however he could.

Pushing away from the bed, he moved away from the bedding and went to his food stores. Jotunheim was still recovering from its many damages and food could still be scarce, but they had become masters of storage and curing.

Normally, they ate their food cold and often without cooking. Some foods were considered a delicacy when eaten raw. He knew none of those options would appeal to an Asgardian. He pulled out three kinds of meat and stared at them. He then looked at the sleeping Aesir and flooded with determination.

Fire was not a strong suit of his race and the meat prepared by the Aesir was not to his tastes… but, if he wanted Loki to feel comfortable, he needed to do his best.

The problem came from a lack of kindling. He searched around his home, but there was just not enough to create a proper fire. He had been quiet, trying not to disturb the prince. But he was obviously not quiet enough.

“What are you doing?”

He froze and spun around to look at the prince. Loki was sitting up in bed, the furs around his waist. His hair was messy and Anthony felt an overwhelming yearning to gather the man in his arms and kiss him.

He resolutely pushed the thought away.

“Looking to make a fire.”

Loki frowned. “A fire? But you are…”

The prince trailed off, unable to say the word. His gaze had even shifted from confusion to pain and something haunted. Anthony wanted to wipe it away.

“Yes,” he said. “But you would not like the way I prepare meals. So, I…”

Something dark and bitter crossed Loki’s face.

“Oh, you would be surprised what I do like, Anthony.”

He sounded so furious and yet, so devastated. Anthony dropped the items in his hands and stepped closer. Loki didn’t flinch this time but he looked wary.

Anthony lowered to his knees before the prince. His hands hesitated in the air before he gently lowered them to the man’s fur covered knees.

“I would give a great many things for the chance to learn what you like, Loki.”

Loki swallowed and his eyes widened. The darkness had receded for shock.

“I am your greatest enemy,” Loki whispered. “I am your monster. How could you… why would you…”

Anthony dared to lift his hand and brush his fingers over the mage’s tunic, above his heart.

“You are not a monster to me,” Anthony confessed. “You are Loki and I want…” he hesitated. I want you. I want to be with you always. I want to be your spouse. “I want to know you,” he settled on. “If you will let me.”

Loki’s gaze was locked on his hand. His blue skin had made most Aesir flinch and sneer while he was on their realm. Loki had been the same at first, but after weeks and conversations, he had seemed neutral towards, perhaps even curious about it.

When Anthony had touched him, it had changed everything – and now it seemed, his touch was changing things again. But Anthony didn’t not know how or in what way it would shift.

“What do your markings mean?” he asked.

“They are the marks of my family,” Anthony admitted. “We are each born with our clan written upon our skin.”

“And what will your clan think of me?” Loki asked quietly.

“I have no clan left,” Anthony admitted. Loki’s gaze snapped to him. Anthony smiled faintly. “And I would not have cared, not if you were letting me know you.”

Loki looked away.

“Do Jotnar ever abandon their children?”

Anthony frowned not understanding the point of the conversation, but more than willing to answer.

“Of course not. Children are precious. There have been very few born in recent centuries. A birth is a time of celebration for our people.”

A raw sound ripped from Loki’s chest and Anthony worried that he had done something wrong.

“Loki?” he asked.

“You are not monsters,” Loki whispered, sounding wrecked. “But… but if you are not monsters. Then I… I…” He sucked in a pained breath. “What am I?”

Anthony didn’t know what to do and the feeling was only amplified when Loki tipped forward and pressed his forehead to Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony sucked in a sharp breath at feeling Loki’s warm skin against his own.

Only, all too soon something shifted. He felt Loki’s skin become rough and raised and cool.

Anthony’s eyes widened and he pulled back. Loki lifted his head looking miserable and confused. Anthony felt shocked enough to fall over. Loki’s skin was blue. Loki was Jotnar and abruptly everything made sense.

And as much as his heart wanted to leap, it also fell, because he could see in his prince’s gaze, that the last thing Loki wanted to was to be like him.

Notes:

A few of you had already guessed it :P
Hope you liked the update!

Chapter 4

Notes:

The next update of feels! Enjoy :)

Anthony didn’t know how to make sense of what was put in front of him. Loki was a Jotun. Loki was terrified and devastated about being a Jotun. How he’d ended up on Asgard was another mystery. Anthony was angry over a stolen Jotun child – but his main priority was the man in front of him.

He came to me for solace. To prove he is not as monstrous as he believes. Because I am someone whom he trusts.

Anthony wouldn’t ruin that for anything, even The Casket of Ancient Winters.

It was why, he carefully pulled the prince off the bed and into his arms. He tensed at first but he soon shuddered as Anthony rocked him and rubbed his back through the pelt. Loki didn’t sob, but it was clear he was wounded and aching. The lies woven to keep the truth from him had to be vast. He didn’t know how Loki had discovered it, but he didn’t dare ask yet.

He briefly considered and dismissed the possibility it was a ruse or a lie. Loki looked too pained for that.

Eventually, and far sooner than Anthony wished, Loki pulled away from him. He stood and scrubbed hands over his once more pale face. He placed his back to him, but Anthony stayed on the floor, watching Loki and wishing he could do something to ease his pain.

He did not even want to think what it meant about the flame of passion – because if Loki was Jotnar than it had to be mutual. It would not burn so brightly in his chest otherwise. But Loki would not know what it was or what it meant. He would also shy from it were it to be brought up.

No, his own affections weren’t important. All that mattered was helping the other through what was happening.

“What can I do for you, Loki?” he asked quietly.

Loki laughed brokenly. “What can you do? What can anyone do? I am… I am…”

“You are yourself,” Anthony answered very carefully.

“I am a Jotnar,” Loki spat.

Anthony tried not to flinch. He knew Loki was lashing out.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “As am I.”

Loki stiffened and he looked over his shoulder. His gaze was wary and perhaps, there was some kind of apology there, but while hidden among the many other conflicting emotions, Anthony couldn’t be sure.

He rose slowly, keeping his movements obvious, but Loki neither tensed nor turned to face him. The fact he kept most of his back to Anthony was indicative of some level of trust.

“I did not know you were,” Anthony said softly.

Loki laughed bitterly and looked away again.

“No. I doubt anyone ever did.” His voice turned harsh and sharp with barely hidden anger and betrayal. “None save my parents.”

Anthony swallowed. He desperately wished to step close and offer comfort to the one he cared so deeply for – but he didn’t want his touch to be rebuffed. He also wanted to sooth him with words – but what did one say to a betrayal so vast and wide-reaching?

Perhaps there was nothing he could say; nothing but unflinching support.

“My home is open to you for as long as you need,” Anthony said. “I will tell no one you are here. This space will be safe for you, Loki.”

Loki finally turned his face completely away. He stared at the wall but he nodded. It was acceptance, and perhaps gratitude, but Anthony didn’t need his thanks. He just wanted to help.

“Do you wish for food?” he asked. “Or a beverage?”

Loki shook his head.

“No.” He said. He gave that same bitter laugh again. “I know not what I want.”

His voice had tried to remain firm but somehow, it only came out sounding lost. Anthony took steps forward before he could think about it. Loki tensed minutely but he didn’t shift away. Anthony dared to close the distance until he stood just behind the taller man. He tentatively placed his hand against Loki’s back in comfort.

It sent a shiver of heat through him; the passion burning stronger. He repressed his reaction, but Loki shuddered. He instinctively shifted, but hesitated at the last second and didn’t completely move away. Anthony pressed his hand down a little harder against the mage’s back, trying to offer whatever comfort he could give.

“Why do I find you so safe?” Loki asked, his voice was rough and confused. “Why did my seidr send me here when I needed to flee? When the one place in all the realms I sought to come was to you?”

Anthony’s lips parted, unsure how to answer without explaining something that was intrinsic, instinctual and known by all Jotnar. How could he explain their connection without making the mage reel from him with distaste and distrust?

The flame of passion was sung in folksong and told in stories of history and lore. What they felt could incite them to destroy worlds and raise armies. When properly cultivated and allowed to form, the flame of passion would create a couple of strength, commitment and unwavering love – and when separated from one another or forced to see their other half get hurt; they would become legends themselves. Nothing would stop them from returning and avenging the one they loved.

But Anthony could not explain in depth what it meant. He knew in his heart that Loki was not ready for it – might never be ready for it.

So, he swallowed and chose his words carefully.

“I did not understand it when I met you on Asgard,” he began. “There is a rare connection formed between similar minded Jotnar that draws us together. I do not know how it forms, but many believe it is a dormant seidr. Something that is tied to our ability to manipulate ice.” He swallowed again. “I felt it for you and, I believe, you felt it for me.”

Loki was silent for a long moment before he admitted, “A warmth in my chest.”

“Yes,” Anthony agreed, trying to keep the elation from his voice. “That is how it usually begins.”

Loki chuckled weakly. “You must have been horrified to feel it for an Aesir.”

“No,” Anthony admitted simply. “I was surprised, but it did not take me long to decide your skin and eyes were not as important to me as the mind inside.”

Loki’s breath hitched and this time, he did move away from Anthony he took two fast steps to put distance between them. Anthony immediately mourned the distance and the fact his words had caused it. He lowered his hand sadly.

“I cannot act the same,” Loki admitted, and his voice sounded so very pained. “Your race is everything I have hated for so long. I am… and I… I cannot, Anthony.”

The words hurt. The pain sliced through him – but unlike the rejection on Asgard, it did not gut him the same way. Because Loki was in turmoil. It was not just his feelings for Anthony that was causing him grief, but his very identity.

“I do not ask anything of you, Loki,” Anthony said quietly. “Not reciprocation or explanations. You have come to me for help and I will offer it freely. I will do everything I can to help you uncover the truth and, if you wish it, to learn more of yourself.”

“I do not know what I want,” he repeated again, still sounding raw.

“Then we shall muddle our way through until you do,” Anthony insisted.

Loki finally glanced over his shoulder. His green eyes were still haunted and confused, but this time, Anthony could see the genuine relief inside. That was all Anthony needed to feel fresh warmth bubble softly to life in his chest.

All Anthony wanted was to be by Loki’s side and if that meant supporting and healing him until the prince was ready to leave – then, Anthony would fulfil it without hesitation.

The fire of passion might mean he would take on armies to keep his beloved at his side – but it also meant he would let the one he adored go if they truly wished to leave. Love was about sacrifice; even if it meant giving up his own happiness for that of Loki’s.

Chapter 5

It did not become any easier as the days passed.

Anthony gave up his bed for Loki. He also did his best to cook meals that would be to Loki’s taste. When he asked that Anthony prepare the food as his people would, he seemed both bitter and depressed to find he enjoyed them better than any attempt to match the Asgardian style.

Loki didn’t talk much. Anthony tried to engage him on many occasions but he either did not reply or quickly grew angry or upset. In the end, Anthony left him to his own thoughts. He still brought food and drinks and checked on him, but the mage mostly sat on the bed, surrounded by furs and staring at his hand.

Anthony had been trying to distract himself with his ice creations. He had to be careful not to let his mind wander to anything that would form a gift for Loki - or craft a manifestation of his anger and grief for the man.

He still ended up moulding an ice dagger; something sleek and deadly that matched the Asgardian weapons he knew the mage favoured.

“I did not think you could craft something so intricate,” Loki remarked.

Anthony jumped and the dagger fell from his hands to crack in half on the stone table beneath him. He spun around to find Loki just behind him, the black and white furs wrapped around his shoulders.

“Our ice can craft everything from castles to jewellery,” Anthony answered, willing his heart to slow down. “Where many realms use metal or wood, we use the element that makes up most of our world.”

Loki nodded, but his eyes were on the dagger. He reached out his hand and Anthony’s breath caught as his fingertips touched the ice. They shifted to Jotnar blue as he stroked over the hilt. Anthony yearned to touch him. Just seeing Loki caress the item Anthony had created for him was enough to make his chest light up with longing.

“Would I be capable of this?” Loki asked.

Anthony forced his thoughts back into order. He cleared his throat to keep it free from infliction.

“I am certain you would be a master with little practice,” Anthony said. “The best wielders of ice are often those who channel seidr.”

Loki’s gaze darted to him. “You do not have seidr.”

Anthony smiled faintly. “I did say they were often mages. There are, of course, unparalleled exceptions.”

Loki almost smiled. “Is that so?”

“The pelts you wear are proof of my undisputed talents.”

Loki’s smile faded to be replaced with shock. He looked down at the fur.

“These are your trophies?”

Anthony felt the first hint of unease. In many ways the Jotnar and Aesir were different, but in others, they were far too similar. The connotations of wearing an item won by someone did not differ between their realms.

Anthony looked down at the ice. He picked it up and forged it together once more as a means of distraction.

“Pelts mean little to a Jotnar,” he said, keeping his tone absent. “I was glad to have them so you would not get cold.”

“If they mean so little,” Loki replied. “Why do you win them?”

Anthony’s fingers froze over the dagger. Because, it was tradition. Once, perhaps, they had actually required the pelts to stay warm and winning meant you would not have to hunt for a fresh fur. But now competing was a chance to show off and winning was a chance to present something affectionate to your spouse.

“It is just something we have always done,” Anthony eventually answered.

If Loki noticed his carefully short answer, he didn’t comment on it, much to Anthony’s relief. Instead, Loki lowered his hand again and this time, he skimmed the hilt of the dagger. His skin was so close, he almost touched Anthony’s hand.

“If you saw my markings,” Loki murmured, “would you know what clan I’m from?”

“Possibly,” Anthony admitted, staring at the hints of Loki’s heritage showing from his fingertips. “I do not know every family or tribe, but you would likely have some markings I could trace.” He swallowed. “If you wanted, I could then find a way to locate any relatives you may have.”

Loki’s hand abruptly retracted, but he didn’t step away. His hand slipped under the pelt and Anthony raised his head to try and catch Loki’s gaze. Loki was still staring at the dagger.

“I do not want to meet other Jotnar,” Loki said.

And although his voice was firm, there was something in the tone that Anthony recognised from when they’d been on Asgard and growing used to each other.

His words might say no, but buried beneath them was something which made hope spark inside Anthony. Because hidden deep under Loki’s fear and uncertainty, Anthony could hear ‘yet’. He just had to wait until Loki was ready to admit it.

---

After their discussion about ice wielding, Loki started to ask more questions. Some days, he asked many and they would have a conversation about the ways of the Jotnar. Other days, he barely said a word or became angry and reticent after Anthony had given his answer.

Anthony did notice that as long as he was crafting, Loki’s gaze would shift from staring at his hand to watching Anthony meld. He was more likely to grow curious while witnessing one of the many beauties the Jotnar could produce.

Anthony did his best to showcase the many styles and abilities of the craft. He shied from the more brutish uses commonly associated with battle. Instead, he crafted items with ice so fine that it mimicked Asgardian glass. He swirled coloured pigments through the designs to give them bold colours that resembled galaxies.

And when Loki slept, he took out the dagger and allowed the pigments to give the hilt the colour of night and the blade a deadly poisonous green.

When it was finished, almost a week since Loki had first appeared in his home, Anthony stared at it. He let his fingers slide over the ice, remembering Loki’s own fingers tracing the same path. The flame of passion throbbed in his chest, especially when he could look across his home and see Loki asleep on his bed and under his pelts.

Anthony wanted to go to Loki. He wanted to curl up beside him, clasp the man’s hand and press their foreheads together. Instead, he hid the dagger and climbed into the cot he had constructed so as not to crowd Loki. He wanted to be closer, but until the prince told him otherwise, he would stay apart.

Anthony stared at the ceiling of his home. He often spent nights watching the roof. It was better than watching Loki. He did not wish to be caught. Nor did he wish to rush across the room and smooth the man’s brow. Loki did not have nightmares often, but sometimes he woke abruptly with a gasp.

The realisation and agony in his eyes made it easy to imagine what the man had envisioned. The knowledge his nightmare remained true agonised Anthony more than he could ever admit. But there was nothing Anthony could do. Loki was Jotnar. He could not erase such a truth from the man and he wasn’t certain that he wished to.

No matter the pain, Loki’s heritage had brought him here - to Anthony. He could not deny his happiness at having the man with him. He could not deny his hope that this might bring Loki closer to him.

Anthony knew it might be foolish, that Loki might never be able to accept a Jotun for a partner but… if he could only make Loki accept their people as more than monsters. Perhaps there was a chance he could have the mage in his life for more than just this desperate need for sanctuary.

He closed his eyes, picturing that very scene as he so often did while falling asleep. Only, he did not get more than a few minutes before a sharp, pained gasp jerked him awake. Anthony snapped open his eyes and pushed up in the cot. His gaze immediately sort Loki only to find the mage’s eyes on him. They were glowing an unnatural sheen of green.

Seidr, his mind supplied.

“Loki?” he questioned.

Loki’s gaze flicked upwards, but the magic never faded.

“Asgard searches for me,” he murmured.

Anthony tensed. He pushed out of the cot and scanned the roof. He could not sense the gaze of Heimdall but the thought that the Gatekeeper might be looking over Jotunheim filled him with dread. The seidr-uses of the realm would not be so oblivious.

He stepped up to the bed, feeling a strong need to be close to Loki. He wanted to be ready to protect and defend his beloved, no matter what it might mean for his life or position on Jotunheim.

“Does he know of your location?” Anthony asked.

“No,” Loki replied, not looking from the ceiling. “I learnt in my youth how to hide from his eyes. He won’t find me until I wish to be found.” He let out a heavy breath. “But if the Allfather influences things…”

Anthony tensed. “Will he do so?”

Loki was quiet for a long moment before admitting, “He does not know why I fled. For now, I am merely shirking my duties.” He smiled bitterly. “He will not use Gungnir to find me until I become more than a nuisance. His interest will be in punishing me not liberating me.”

Anger flooded Anthony. He clenched his fists, trying to contain his rage, but it wasn’t enough to halt the formation of ice crystals or the way the floor and ceiling warped to form the beginning of sharp needles of ice. They were manifestations that could turn lethal with little more than a thought and a target.

“Anthony,” Loki murmured.

Anthony’s gaze moved from the ceiling; not seeing the stone and ice, but rather the face of the Aesir King. When he looked at Loki, the mage’s eyes were wide and his breath was clouding the air. Anthony stiffened. He looked down at himself and grimaced. He smoothed out the ice and moved to take a step back.

“Apologies,” he began.

But Loki’s hand rose and he held it out between them in the air. The temperature itself shouldn’t have been cold enough to remove the mage’s Aesir glamour. But it rippled and disappeared for beautiful cobalt skin. Anthony watched as the tips of Loki’s fingers became dusted with frost.

Anthony lifted his hand unthinkingly. Loki didn’t pull away and their fingertips brushed. Anthony’s body felt electrified by the soft chill of ice crafted by Loki. The warmth in his chest near burnt, but he only wanted more. He pressed their palms together, and Loki didn’t flinch or pull away.

“You would fight Asgard for me,” Loki whispered.

He sounded disbelieving and Anthony’s gaze tore from their hands to the prince’s turbulent gaze. The glow of seidr had faded to his usual emerald green.

“I would fight anyone for you,” Anthony admitted, his voice soft yet fierce.

Loki’s lips parted; his shock obvious. Anthony wanted to swear his loyalty and life to Loki; not as a disciple or a warrior but as a lover. He would promise Loki the world and any item he could ever wish to receive. It took great effort to swallow the words down.

Instead, he looked back at their hands – and after a brief hesitation he shifted his fingers to the side and slowly, gently curled them between Loki’s. He heard Loki suck in a breath and although a few, tremulous seconds passed, Loki slowly lowered his own fingers around Anthony’s.

It was Anthony’s turn to release his breath in a harsh exhale.

“I don’t want you harmed,” Loki whispered.

Anthony’s gaze tore from their linked hands. Loki still seemed to be warring with himself, but despite the obvious turmoil, he held Anthony’s gaze.

“I… don’t know what I want.” Loki swallowed. “But I know that I do not want you harmed.”

Anthony’s chest burst with warmth. He felt it flood his body until he could not help his smile.

“Then we shall protect one another,” he said quietly.

Loki smiled faintly – but all too soon it faded as he looked at their hands. Anthony followed his gaze. His breath caught. A soft blue glow emanated from their hands. It looked like the swirling water below an ice lake – only it acted like magic. Or fire.

Anthony had never seen anything more beautiful – but Loki yanked his hand away. The power dispersed as if it had never been. Loki also buried his hand back under the pelt. Anthony’s rested in the air, cold and bereft.

“I must keep Heimdall from finding us,” Loki murmured.

He wouldn’t hold Anthony’s gaze.

Anthony tried to muster his calm acceptance whilst inside his heart was beating rapidly and he yearned to be closer to Loki. He knew he couldn’t push the man, but after seeing the manifestation of the fire of passion, his longing to kiss the man was even stronger.

But he knew it could never be his decision. He wanted Loki, but the mage needed to choose him too.

“How can I help?” he questioned, the way he had from the start.

Loki’s eyes flicked towards him, but didn’t go higher than his hand before looking away.

“You cannot. I need to meditate in quiet.”

It hurt, but Anthony had grown used to such dismissals.

“I shall leave you then,” he said quietly. “If you are need, I shall be by my workstation.”

He turned, planning to go to his cot and drag it from the room.

“Wait!” Loki called.

Anthony paused and glanced back. The mage was staring at the pelt. His fingers were twisted in the fur.

“You will need to be under my ward.” He noticeably hesitated before shuffling down the bed slightly. “You can rest here. There is no need for us both to be awake.”

Anthony’s heart leapt. He didn’t even hesitate to close the space. He climbed on his bed but Loki didn’t look at him and his back was stiff with tension. He made sure not to crowd Loki as he laid down. It would not take much and he would be able to touch the mage, but Anthony made sure that he didn’t.

He could have stayed up for hours watching Loki, but he closed his eyes forcefully. He had not been so close to the mage since their first night and he would not squander the chance to rest beside his beloved.

He didn’t know if it would ever be granted to him again.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Not long to go now! But enjoy this next part :D

Anthony woke slowly. It was to a sensation he had never felt before outside Asgard. He was warm. But unlike the heat of the Asgardian planet, this was comforting and enjoyable. He wanted to press against it and never pull away.

He opened his eyes with regret, not wanting to lose the feeling.

But it did not disappear. Instead, he found something he had not expected. He was pressed against Loki. The pelt had been lowered but not completely removed. The mage had his head on Anthony’s chest and was sleeping peacefully.

Anthony didn’t know when they had come together in the night, but his location on the bed had not shifted unduly. It was Loki who had sought him.

And yet, despite the utter happiness it brought to have the mage in his arms. Anthony’s gaze was locked on Loki’s skin. Their time together had removed all but the smallest parts of the glamour. Wherever they touched and radiating from the area was Loki’s natural skin.

And with so much on display, Anthony could get a clear glimpse of his clan markings.

Son of Laufey.

Shock and horror mingled along with fear. Because while Anthony did not care what clan Loki was from, he knew Loki would. He knew that learning he was the son of their ruler – the stolen heir whom everyone believed murdered by the Aesir – would change everything.

And Anthony didn’t know if such a revelation would be the final shard to tear Loki from his home and his arms.

He didn’t know what to say or do, but before he could decide, the mage stirred. Anthony felt frozen, but all too soon Loki opened his eyes. They were a brilliant, bright red. Anthony had never seen a shade more beautiful.

But he didn’t get long to admire it before Loki jerked away from him. Anthony let him go instinctively and the mage sat up. He let out a shaky breath and stared at his hands. A very fine tremble went through his limbs.

“Loki,” Anthony said, sitting up carefully.

“Don’t look at me,” Loki ordered, but his voice sounded agonised.

He clenched his hands into fists, but it didn’t hide the way they shook. It didn’t hide the way disgust curled his lips.

“Loki,” Anthony whispered, the words instinctive. “You are beautiful.”

Rather than comforted, Loki let out a wretched sound.

“Of course you would prefer me like this.”

Anthony scowled and he shifted down the bed. He didn’t stop until he was crouched before the prince and within his line of sight. Loki didn’t look at him, but Anthony could see his downturned face.

“You are beautiful no matter what skin you have,” Anthony insisted.

“You just say that to appease me,” Loki hissed.

“I say it because it is true,” Anthony swore. “I say it because there is no other I have met that could compare. Because you are all I could ever want-”

Anthony snapped his mouth shut abruptly, but the damage was done. Loki’s head jerked to look at him. His face was still more Jotun than Aesir and the mottled colouring was as handsome as both. But his agony and disgust had been replaced for astonishment and Anthony didn’t know what was worse.

Perhaps discomfort – which he was sure would follow.

“Apologies,” Anthony murmured.

He lowered his gaze to the bed and slowly started to climb off it, intending to leave the prince. He could not give the man true privacy, but he could give him space.

“Wait,” Loki said, his voice soft.

Anthony paused and dared to raise his head. Loki still looked conflicted, and his face was now entirely Aesir. He pulled the pelts further up his shoulders and stared down at his leg.

“I will tell you if I want you to leave,” Loki muttered, just as quietly.

It wasn’t the same as ‘stay’ but it still filled Anthony with hope. He dared to shift further up the bed until their legs were almost brushing. Loki didn’t shy away.

“I completed the ward,” Loki said. “It shall keep us hidden from the Aesir.” He flicked his gaze to Anthony before away again. “I have taken care not to alert the Jotnar either.”

Anthony nodded. Strange spellwork would be alarming, especially if anyone recognised it as Loki’s. But, seidr users had not been taken to Asgard for fear of being perceived as a threat. No one should recognise Loki as the Second Prince of Asgard.

But if they saw his markings. No one would mistake him for anyone but the heir to Jotunheim’s throne.

Anthony swallowed.

“Loki, about how we awoke-”

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Loki interjected, his tone firm.

Anthony winced. He knew it was a rejection of their embrace, but it was also a rejection of Loki’s glamour failing. And despite his sadness that holding Loki may never be repeated, a small part of him was relieved. For as long as Loki was not ready to speak of their touch and what it had revealed, Anthony could stay quiet about the prince’s heritage.

He would not leave the mage in the dark forever, but until the prince asked, he would let sleeping füürvings lie. He hoped that by then, Loki would be accepting of the answer he received.

---

Loki took great care not to touch him after their morning together. They also didn’t share the bed again. Anthony had moved to the cot without comment that night and Loki hadn’t protested. He did however watch Anthony. No matter the time - day or night, if the mage was awake, Anthony could feel the prince’s gaze on him.

He tried not to react to it. Anthony had a fair idea what was on the prince’s mind, but as long as he did not ask about it, Anthony could pretend the confession had not passed his lips. He could pretend that he did not worry every morning to wake up and find the mage had left as suddenly as he had arrived.

But Loki remained.

He also, much to Anthony’s surprise, came over to join him at his workstation one morning.

Anthony had been crafting a series of ice beads, intending to craft a bracelet. He didn’t see Loki wearing jewellery so it was innocuous enough to not draw attention. He also doubted he would ever grant the man the dagger, let alone any other trinket he created.

It was why he’d been using red and orange pigment over green. They were colours to match the flame of passion and meant, if Loki was to leave, he could wear something crafted while around the mage. Something to remind him of their time together.

He was only on his fourth bead when he’d felt the mage stop beside him. He’d stilled and looked over his shoulder. Loki was so close that he swallowed instinctively.

“Loki? Do you need anything? Can I-”

“That looks to be a simple task,” he murmured.

“Yes, it is,” Anthony agreed. “It is one of the first items children learn to craft.”

Loki hesitated before stiffening his shoulders. “I want to learn.”

Anthony’s breath caught and he almost dropped the beads. Despite a million thoughts and responses rushing through his mind, the last thing he wanted to do or say was the wrong thing. It was why he placed down the beads and pushed them to the side. He then stood, offering Loki the chair. It was, like much of his furniture, a mixture of stone and ice. Loki hesitated for only a moment before taking a seat. The pelts and his clothing protected much of his skin from the ice. But they both knew it would matter little if he touched it.

Loki placed his arms on the workstation and Anthony saw the hints of blue skin. He felt a jolt of anxiety that the prince would ask about his clan, but all he did was hold out his hand and draw frost to his fingertips.

His brow furrowed and Anthony suggested, “Do not try to form a bead to begin with, start with merely calling ice to your hand. Shaping it can come later.”

Loki looked unhappy but nodded.

Anthony watched as slowly; his hand lost all of its Aesir colouring. His skin tone was lighter than Anthony’s but his nails were a matching jet black. Anthony could have stared at him for ages, but he forced his gaze to the jagged piece of ice Loki had created. It was the right size for a bead, it merely needed a little smoothing.

“Excellent,” Anthony replied. “Now, you’ll begin more delicate shaping.”

He crouched down, taking care not to touch the mage as he gave gentle but constant instruction and encouragement. It became obvious very quickly that Loki was a natural. Anthony couldn’t hide his smile as within a half hour, Loki was able to craft fully formed beads. They were all perfectly shaped and of exact sizing. Anthony scooped up his own beads only to intersperse them throughout Loki’s.

“Now,” he said. “You’ll join them all together.”

“With yours?” Loki asked, surprised. He looked over the table. “There is no string.”

“Yes,” Anthony agreed. “You’ll use a different kind of ice to forge them together.”

“How will the wearer remove the bracelet?”

I won’t, Anthony thought, but didn’t say.

He would slip it over his wrist; an item forged by his ice and that of the one he loved. Nothing would ever be able to part him from it.

But he chose instead to explain the more common method.

“Any Jotun can remove a bracelet by simply unravelling the ice. Forge it together and I’ll show you.”

Loki frowned. “I do not know the method.”

“I’m certain you can devise it,” Anthony teased softly.

It immediately made Loki’s eyes narrow and he focused back on the beads with renewed vigour. Anthony watched him, knowing he wouldn’t be caught while Loki was distracted. The man was so incredibly handsome. His skin was a mottled mixture of his heritage and his glamour. Anthony did not mind which he saw, as long as he was looking at Loki, the flame within his chest burned happily.

He was happy as long as his love was by his side.

When he saw Loki smirk, Anthony forced his gaze back to the bracelet. His breath caught. Loki had his hands below it while the bracelet spun in the air. His ice was slowly dancing and twining with the bracelet. It was incredible.

One could not mistake Loki as anything other than a seidr user. They always had a flourish and a majesty with their ice weaving that, no matter how he tried, Anthony could never match. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t envious of the talent. All he could feel was awe, love and pride for the skill his beloved possessed after so little practice.

“It’s complete,” Loki stated.

And it was, beautifully so.

Anthony reached out and grasped the bracelet. He let out a somewhat shaky breath at the feeling of Loki’s elemental powers still lingering in the air. Loki gasped and his hands retracted, taking the ice with them. Anthony bit his cheek to keep his disappointment from showing. Instead, he busied himself with thumbing the perfect beads. He smiled and pressed his thumb between two of them. It took only a small burst of power and they snapped. He quickly caught each side before twisting them around his wrist. He then sealed them with another piece of ice. The cool, smooth ice rubbed pleasantly against his skin.

“I’ve never seen a Jotun wear these,” Loki murmured.

Anthony looked away from their creation but found Loki’s gaze locked on it. Anthony held it out between them, letting it rest closer to Loki so he could admire it. The mage lightly touched two beads with his fingers. Anthony tried not to shiver. It wasn’t even on his skin, but he felt the flame of passion glowing brightly.

He so desperately wanted to see their ice interact again in that perfect flame – but, he remained unmoving. He answered Loki instead.

“These are trinkets more common in villages than diplomatic meetings,” Anthony replied. “I have seen them in the court, but some consider them… frivolous.”

“I think they are beautiful,” Loki whispered.

“An opinion I share,” Anthony said quietly.

The prince raised his gaze and Anthony caught it. He swallowed, feeling locked in the moment. He wanted to kiss Loki or merely twist his wrist to be able to hold the mage’s hand. Instead, he stayed frozen, waiting for what his beloved would do.

In the end, Loki looked away and lowered his hand.

“Perhaps you can teach me something else.”

Anthony retracted his hand and placed it behind his back. He smiled and hoped it did not show the yearning inside him.

“Of course, Loki.”

It was only when the prince wasn’t looking that he ran his fingers over each bead. He imagined he could still feel some of Loki’s ice magic, coating every bead he’d made.

Chapter 7

Notes:

I shall do comment replies in the coming days! But, I have been very busy ^^; This was due for an update though, so here it is! Enjoy :)

Anthony spent the rest of the day teaching Loki different techniques and ways that he could use his dormant powers. As he expected, Loki was a natural. It only took a few hours before Loki didn’t even flinch at the sight of his blue hands. Sometimes, the colouring went down his arms to be hidden by his tunic and the pelts.

Anthony eventually persuaded him to break for food, and when prompted, Anthony told stories about grand structures and artworks formed by their people. Many of them were, of course, long destroyed by the Aesir. But Anthony tried to speak only of things that were still standing; or a craft that was still practiced. He hoped to encourage Loki enough that he wished to experience it in person.

Although they did not touch again, Anthony was able to remain in Loki’s space, murmuring words of encouragement or showcasing a technique with his own ice. They ended up working late into the night and it was only at Anthony’s tired but insistent pestering that he was able to get the mage to stand from the work station and walk towards the bed.

He paused when Anthony moved towards the cot. Anthony stilled as well.

“Loki?” He enquired.

The mage swallowed before looking away.

“Standing over the workbench could not have been comfortable for you. The bed would give you better rest.”

Anthony’s heart raced, but he tried to squash his hopes.

“You need rest as well. I will not evict you from the bed.”

Loki shrugged jerkily. “It’s big enough for two.”

The flame of passion could easily be called a wildfire for how bright it burned.

“If you are sure?”

Loki nodded stiffly before moving to the bed. Anthony followed behind cautiously. He gave the mage ample time to change his mind – but he didn’t. Loki ended up on one side of the bed and Anthony laid down on the other. He could not lay passive on his back, choosing to rest on his side, allowing him to see the prince.

Loki’s gaze flicked to him, but didn’t linger on his face. It found no place to focus at first, but after a few seconds, it locked near Anthony’s waist. He glanced down only to swallow when he realised what Loki had focused upon.

The bracelet.

Anthony wanted to put it behind his back, but he refused to be ashamed of his feelings or his devotion. He knew it could prompt Loki to reject him once again, but Loki already knew of his feelings. What was the point in pretending it didn’t exist?

“You’re still wearing that,” Loki said quietly.

“I saw no reason to take it off,” he replied just as softly.

Loki swallowed. He also reached out, shocking Anthony and making him stiffen. Loki’s fingers brushed the bracelet. He didn’t touch Anthony’s skin, but he was close enough to have Anthony struggling not to move and clasp the mage’s hand.

Unfortunately, Loki pulled back too soon and buried his hands under the pelt. He looked down at the fur.

“I don’t understand why you’re so kind to me,” Loki said. “Why you’ve offered me sanctuary from the beginning.” His jaw tightened. “I said such horrible things to you on Asgard.”

You are a Jotnar. A monster – and I will never see you as anything more.

The words still repeated on his mind, just as painful – but softened by the sight of Loki in his bed and looking pained over the memory.

“You said what you were taught to believe,” Anthony murmured. “I understood that.”

Loki laughed roughly.

“What I was taught? Yes, taught to hate what I am.” Anthony flinched, but Loki closed his eyes. He pulled in a rough breath. “And yet, despite you being taught a similar hatred. You looked past it.” He tucked his head towards his chest. “You are a kinder person than I.”

“No, Loki,” Anthony said.

He could not ignore the urge to place his hand on the mage. He settled with resting it on the pelt. Loki startled and his head jerked up. They locked gazes. Loki looked angry and guilt-ridden.

“I don’t believe that of you. On Asgard, you were different to the Aesir. You asked questions, you sought to learn. You looked past it-”

“Briefly,” Loki hissed. “And then I let my… my fear stop me. Fear of you, of what any of it meant.” He closed his eyes. “I wanted so desperately to belong, Anthony.” His breath hitched. “I wanted to be respected, to be accepted. I could not… I couldn’t feel for you. It would have been my end.” He brought up trembling hands and scrubbed them across his face. “And it has been my end all along. A Jotun on Asgard.” His laugh was almost a sob. “Of course I could never belong.”

Anthony moved, he couldn’t sit back and do nothing while Loki broke again in front of him. He wrapped his arm around the mage and drew him close. Loki didn’t resist. He seemed to melt into Anthony. His hands pressed to Anthony’s chest and he buried his face between them.

“I am sorry this has been done to you,” Anthony whispered, his face resting against Loki’s hair. “I do not blame you, Loki. I could never blame you for your actions.”

“You should,” Loki whispered. “I bring nothing but pain.”

“You have brought me joy,” Anthony insisted. “Despite my anger on your behalf, my pain for your suffering. I could not have asked for something greater than time spent with you.”

Loki’s breath caught. He shifted and raised his head. It forced Anthony to shift as well. Loki looked up at him. His forehead had turned blue from their position but it was slowly returning to match the rest of his face.

“You mean that,” Loki murmured.

It was more a statement than a question, but Anthony smiled. He also dared to raise his hand and gently brush a strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear.

“Of course I do, Loki.”

Loki made a small noise before he pushed forward and before Anthony could realise what was happening, Loki’s lips were pressed against his own. He gasped, but a moment later he closed his eyes and kissed the prince back. He curled his hand in the mage’s hair and felt Loki tentatively cup his neck.

At first, Loki’s skin was warm and it almost hurt, but soon it changed becoming a familiar cold that his body welcomed. The flame of passion pulsed along with the beat of his heart. Their kiss deepened and Anthony didn’t think he’d ever felt anything more amazing.

When they parted for breath, Anthony opened his eyes to see Loki’s face had taken on his Jotun appearance. Loki’s eyes were still closed, but he was breathing heavily. Anthony ran his thumb over one of the marks on Loki’s cheek. He wanted to kiss him again, but he didn’t want to crowd his prince.

Smiling wistfully, he started to let the prince go, but Loki’s hand darted out and caught his wrist. He stilled and Loki’s eyes snapped open. They were turbulent, but there was more longing within them than fear or regret.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered.

Anthony smiled gently and assured him, “I would stay forever, Loki.”

Loki ducked his head. He didn’t respond, but he shifted closer, curling his body against Anthony’s. His hand also moved from Anthony’s wrist to his hand. Anthony immediately linked their fingers and pulled them close to his chest. Loki sighed and seemed to relax.

Anthony stroked Loki’s back and pressed his face back against Loki’s hair. He couldn’t keep his happiness contained and it spilled from him in a wide smile. He knew Loki’s mind might change in the morning and he might feel vulnerable and defensive and shy from him.

But, for tonight, Anthony held Loki in his arms.

And the mage had kissed him. Nothing could take the joy of that from him.

---

When Anthony woke, he immediately recognised the lack of weight against him. Anthony’s eyes snapped open and his breath caught in his chest. Terror, regret and sadness vied for dominance.

Our embrace has finally made him leave.

It seemed as if his every fear had come to life, but when he sat up to confirm what he believed. He felt all the breath punch out of him in relief. Loki was on the edge of the bed. The pelt was still around him, but his attention was focused on his lap.

Anthony still felt worried. There was something in the air which seemed weighted with dread.

“Loki?” he asked cautiously. “What is wrong?”

“Anthony,” Loki said, his voice remarkably smooth. “You have seen my markings often now.”

Anthony tensed, instantly knowing what Loki was inferring.

“I have,” he agreed quietly.

“Then you would know what clan I am from.”

Anthony didn’t try to shy from the topic or avoid his answer through careful wording.

“I do,” he replied.

Loki turned his head. His expression was intent and determined. Anthony knew there would be no avoiding the answer. Loki had decided he was ready and Anthony only hoped it would prove correct.

“Who are they?”

Anthony hadn’t wanted to tell Loki, but it did not mean he hadn’t planned for this very moment, hoping to find the best way to deliver news that would only be shocking and painful.

“They mourned you,” he began quietly. “The babe that was slain by the Aesir. Their hatred only burned stronger at losing their child.”

Loki’s jaw gritted. “I didn’t ask for a story. I asked for a name.”

“Laufey,” Anthony whispered.

Loki’s eyes widened. He looked away, but his gaze flicked sightlessly around the room as if struggling to comprehend the information.

“Laufey’s son,” he murmured, sounding hollow.

Anthony crossed the bed quickly. He paused with his hands above Loki before giving in and placing one on his shoulder and the other his back. He rubbed softly through the pelt. Anthony felt relieved when the man didn’t flinch or yank away from him.

“Your mother died in the war,” Anthony replied softly. “You have three younger brothers. There are other members of your clan, but they-”

“Enough,” Loki said roughly. “No more, Anthony.”

Anthony pressed his lips together, but he couldn’t stop from leaning forward and kissing Loki’s hair. He wanted to provide all the comfort in the world. Despite that, he expected to be pushed aside at any moment, but Loki didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if that was shock, conscious choice or just an overwhelming need for support.

In the end, they stayed together for long enough that Anthony’s legs grew numb. He kept up his soft kisses and the comforting strokes to the man’s back. The sun had clearly risen by the time Loki stirred and pulled away from him.

Anthony let him leave without resistance. Loki stood with his back to him.

“Thank you for answering me, Anthony,” Loki said softly. “I must… think.”

Anthony stumbled to his feet, fearful once again that Loki might leave.

“Do you require privacy? I can walk the tundra. I can-”

“If you would not mind,” Loki answered. “I… would appreciate being alone.”

Anthony swallowed. The prince’s words were too stiff and stilted. He wished Loki would let him stay, but he understood the need for time free of another’s gaze or touch.

“Then I shall take a walk,” Anthony replied.

He hesitated before coming to stand beside Loki. The mage didn’t look at him and there was something in his manner that made Anthony believe a single touch would shatter him.

“I shall be gone no longer than an hour,” Anthony told him.

Loki nodded sharply and despite the pain in his heart, Anthony turned from him and walked to the entrance to his home. He paused and looked over his shoulder, trying to memorise the sight of the prince in his home.

When he shut his door and turned to look at the vast snow of Jotunheim’s landscape, it was with the sinking feeling that when he returned, Loki would be long gone.

Chapter 8

Anthony found it hard to concentrate. He also couldn’t bring himself to go far. He walked enough to hopefully be out of the range of Loki’s seidr but still in sight of his home. Then he took to pacing, making a large crevice in the snow drift. Anthony glanced every few minutes at his house. He didn’t know what he expected to see, hear or feel. He knew Loki could hide himself from Heimdall’s eyes, disguising a teleport from a magicless Jotun would be nothing. The mere thought sent a pang of anguish through his heart.

He rubbed the beads on his wrist compulsively. All he could think about was their morning in bed, their kiss. The kiss Loki had instigated and the way they’d wrapped around each other. When he closed his eyes, he saw the flame of passion alighting between their clasped hands. The beautiful blue magic of their bond was as attractive to him as the sight of his beloved.

And he knew it could be gone in an instant. It could be gone already and he wouldn’t know, not until he returned to an empty home devoid of Loki.

Anthony closed his eyes, but a fresh sight haunted him. This time, it was his pelts laying on the bed and perhaps a note. A thank you and a goodbye. Loki would give him that much, surely? Anthony gritted his teeth and looked back at the house.

He so desperately wanted to see Loki, but he had promised him an hour. He timed it with the movement of the sun, but every second seemed to drag. By the time he could start walking back, his thoughts and fears had tied him in knots. It didn’t take long for him to break into a run. He couldn’t stay idle or passive. He needed to know.

Of all the things that could drive his love away, the truth of his parents could be the final straw. Because why would he stay with Anthony? A being who encompassed everything that made his life a lie?

Anthony reached his home and shifted impatiently in front of the door. The hour was not yet up and while he wanted to burst in, he had made a promise he would not break. Yet, for every moment he waited, a fresh fear plagued on his mind. It was something that had never been far from his thoughts: how Loki was faring.

Because while he had taken the revelation better than others, how could Anthony know what was truly on his mind? Was he heartbroken or furious? Had he fled? Was he inside?

Anthony knew the full hour wasn’t up but he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He opened his front door and stepped inside. His breath caught at the sight. Loki was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. The pelts laid on his lap and his visible skin was Jotun blue.

He held the dagger Anthony had made in his hand. His gaze had been locked on the weapon but he turned to Anthony at the sound of the door.

”Did you search my house?” Anthony asked, his voice high-pitched.

He was a little embarrassed to have Loki holding an item he’d crafted for the mage, but mostly he was relieved. The prince was still in his home, still wearing his pelts.

Loki glanced away, looking back at the dagger.

“I did not intend to at first,” he said quietly. “But I did not want to believe you. I want to find proof of the lie. Proof of your plans to undermine Asgard and utilise me in some way.”

Anthony’s heart lodged in his throat.

“I would never-”

“I know,” Loki interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “I knew even when I was looking that you wouldn’t.” He pulled in a shaky breath while trembling fingers stroked the knife. “I did not even want to be wrong. I just wanted it all to be a fabrication. As if I could wake from some terrible dream and yet…”

He trailed off, but Anthony noticed a hand clench in the pelts.

“And yet,” Loki continued, “when I found this knife. I knew you had carved it for me. Hidden it so as not to discomfort me and I realised.” He swallowed. “I realised if it were a dream, it would hurt to lose you.”

Anthony’s heart skipped. Loki raised his gaze and while he still looked pained and exhausted – he also looked determined.

“I realised that no matter what I might be: Asgardian or Jotun. Odinson or… L-Laufeyson.” He pulled in a breath. “I do not want to lose you.”

Anthony sucked in a breath before he closed the space between them. He didn’t think about his actions, not until he was dropping hard to the floor, he knees hitting the stone. He barely registered the pain.

“Loki,” he whispered.

He brought his hand forward, wanting to touch but not sure where. Loki caught his hand before he could decide. He linked their fingers and squeezed. A moment later, the blue flame erupted between them.

They both looked at it and Anthony almost wanted to laugh. He wanted to erupt with an exclamation of pure joy.

“Loki,” he repeated again.

He looked back at his beloved and although he wasn’t smiling, his gaze was soft. Anthony leant forward and Loki didn’t shy away, instead, he tilted his chin making it easier for their lips to press together.

The moment their lips touched; the magic pulsed. It coalesced around them in something that felt like pure comfort and contentment. It was warm as it sunk into him, soothing every ache and leaving Anthony feeling like he could take on anything.

Like every legend about the flame of passion was true.

Loki was the one to break them apart with a gasp. He kept his eyes closed but he rested their foreheads together.

“I do want you,” he admitted. “I… I cannot promise to always act so, to admit such things the way you do, I cannot-”

“Loki,” Anthony interrupted gently. He placed a hand on Loki’s cheek, stroking gently with his fingers. “You do not need to say a word more than you wish to give.” He dared to kiss the mage’s jaw. “All I care to know is that you wish to stay with me.”

Loki swallowed. “I cannot remain in this house forever.”

The words could have sunk Anthony’s heart, but Loki was still gripping tight to his hand. The fire was still burning strongly around their linked palms.

“Then promise to return to me,” Anthony compromised.

Loki’s hand spasmed and he shook his head. His eyes opened and Loki’s gaze was surprisingly fierce.

“No,” he said. “No, if I am to face the lies of my past. To face the… people of my future. I want you with me, Anthony.”

Anthony felt warm from his head to his toes. He smiled softly.

“You need only ask, my Loki.” He thumbed his beloved’s cheeks. “I would walk to the ends of the universe with you.”

Loki swallowed roughly and his cheeks turned a darker shade. Anthony adored the sight. He delighted in seeing the changes to Jotun skin as much as he admired it on Aesir.

“It will not be easy,” Loki muttered. “But I am… glad to have you beside me.” He glanced away, looking at his lap. “You make me believe that I can conquer anything, knowing you will be at my side.”

“And beside you is where I shall always be,” Anthony swore. “If you wish it, I will be here for eternity.”

He looked back at Anthony and finally, Loki gave a small hint of a smile. In that moment, Anthony felt as if he was seeing their future.

It would not be immediate and would take time, but Anthony knew this would be a battle well worth fighting for: both with the Aesir, his fellow Jotun and Loki’s own misgivings and pain. For the flame of passion burnt strongly between them. It glowed upon their very hands.

But more importantly than either of those things, it was Loki’s smile that gave Anthony hope.

Because it hinted at the man Loki would be once he’d regained his confidence and equilibrium. Anthony could not wait for the day when his prince was mended and happy. Anthony knew that on that day, The Norns themselves would see how perfect a match had been created: a love for all the ages.

Notes:

YES. IT'S BASICALLY JUST PURE FLUFF AND HOPE. I hope you like it XD

Yes, yes I know there is probably a whole universe that could be explored here but shhh. It wasn't even supposed to be bigger than the first chapter. This is what you're getting XD

I do believe that Loki is slow to come around to his Jotun side. Being with Anthony won't fix his demons overnight. But it allows him to at least accept Anthony and start to develop their intimacy/let Anthony close (closer than now with kisses and more~) Eventually his own self-hatred will fade. I don't think he'll ever be able to fully disregard his Aesir form (and it will take him a LONG time to forgive Odin & Frigga). But he'll become more comfortable in his Jotun form and grow to love the culture/people. (Laufey/his brothers eager to accept and introduce him to everything).

Luckily, Anthony doesn't care which skin he wears, just that Loki's with him. That helps a lot and it means a lot to Loki to see Anthony's affectionate gaze no matter how he looks.

But, ahem, that be all my rambles. Thanks for reading everyone! And, since I'm sure a number of you have questions, feel free to hit me with them. I'll try and answer as best I can :)