Chapter Text
Once, mankind accepted a simple truth: that they were not alone in this universe. Some worlds man believed home to their gods. Others they believed they should fear.
From a land of cold and darkness came the Frost Giants, searching for comfort and alliance in a land they thought would welcome then. But humanity does not react well to that which they do not understand, to that which seems different and frightening. Their armies drove most of the Frost Giants away from their peaceful villages and back into the heart of their own world. What few remained would surely have been hunted down and killed, were it not for the intervention of Asgard.
The cost was great.
The humans have always been more numerous than any people of any other Realm, and they used their numbers to great advantage. In the end, however, we prevailed and the source of their power was taken from the humans, cutting them off from the other Eight Realms and leaving them with only their innovative minds to fill in the gaping hole which once contained their own magic. With the last great war ended, we withdrew from the other worlds and returned home at the Realm Eternal, Asgard.
And here we remain as the beacon of hope, shining out across the stars. And though we have fallen into man's myths and legends, it was Asgard and its warriors that brought peace to the universe.
Tony frowned, his agile mind going over scenario after scenario. “But they can’t come to Asgard, can they? The humans, I mean.”
“When I am king,” Thor declared, grinning over at his little brother, “I'll hunt the villains down and slay them all! Just as you did, Father.”
Odin shook his head. “The Midgardians are not to be considered enemies any longer. As the shortest-lived and least powerful people under Yggdrasil, they have forgotten everything about the magic they used to wield, about their place amongst the Nine Realms. They are to be pitied, my sons; limited to a single Realm, forced to rely on inert technology for the simplest of tasks where we have been blessed with long lives and strength beyond their wildest dreams.”
Tony snorted. Thor looked scandalized, that his brother would act so rudely before their father, but Odin just gestured for Tony to speak. “They might not be us, but they’ve lasted more generations since the invasion than Asgard ever has. I’m sorry, father, but I agree with Thor. It might be better to just finish them off if they’re so blind and short-sighted, before they find a way back to us.”
Odin smiled indulgently. “A wise king never seeks out war, but…” he looked between his two sons, as they hung on his every word, “he must always be ready for it.”
It was troubling that Thor’s immediate reaction was a bloodthirsty one, but it was equally troubling that Tony was already so coldly practical that he could argue for the extermination of an entire race in the name of expediency. Odin hadn’t been back to Midgard since the Jötunn genocide, but he remembered the fervent drive with which the human leaders had rallied their followers against the Frost Giants, calling them monsters and demons to justify their cruelty. Laufey’s infant son and heir had nearly been killed, saved only by his instinctive ability to shapeshift into a form more pleasing to human eyes and Odin’s sharp magical senses, almost leading to a full out war between Midgard and Jötunheim. It could have been far more disastrous than it was, and had been more than bad enough to give Odin nightmares to this day.
Which was why he told his sons about it. To prepare them for the worst that could happen if either of them took up the mantle of rule.
Thor’s hand slipped into Odin’s, breaking him out of his sombre reverie. “I’m ready father!”
“So am I!” Tony snapped quickly, never one to stay in his elder brother’s shadow for long.
Odin chuckled, pleased at their desire to please him. “Only one of you can ascend to the throne. But both of you were born to be kings.”
Thor took that with the wide-eyed trust with which he accepted everything his father told him. Tony frowned and seemed to file it away to mull over it later. Odin wasn’t worried; neither of his sons were the type to ruminate over things they couldn’t change. Thor would likely forget this conversation even happened, and Tony would likely only remember it when its significance became relevant. Odin was a sporting kind of man, and firmly believed that an intellect like Tony’s deserved all the clues and warnings and foreshadowings that Odin could offer him. Frigga had commented at how he toyed with his youngest son like he played with the greatest minds of Asgard, but Odin firmly believed that Tony deserved to be counted among that group, even at his young age.
Tony was precocious now, but when he aged he would become a great scholar, and Odin looked forward to having someone other than his wife who could keep up with him.
He had great plans for Tony Odinson. Great plans indeed.
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Loki Laufeyjarson. Visionary. Genius. The saviour of Jötunheim. Even from an early age, Loki-king shone, despite his unfortunate stature, with the light of his brilliance and unique power. Saved from the Midgardian barbarians by the Allfather himself, Loki-king crafted his first complete protection spell at an age when most children were still learning to speak; he grasped the fundamentals of teleportation while his cohort were learning to run. Just before he reached full adulthood, he became the first of our people to be welcomed by the Vanir and Asgardians, taking on their appearance to charm them into accepting him into their courts. As her prince, he raised Jötunheim’s standing amongst the Nine Realms.
The loss of Laufey-king came far too soon, and Loki-king was not in a position to grasp the throne which was his birthright. After thoughtful and reasoned debate, the throne went to Skrymir-king instead, who ruled with an admirable practicality and effectiveness. It wasn’t until Loki-king finished his trials of adulthood that he was able to take up the Casket of Ancient Winters and take back the throne which had been his by right of birth. Under his reign, Jötunheim has become more prosperous than ever, and a powerful force for good throughout the Nine Realms.
The roar of approval echoed in the halls of Útgard, and the skald made a small bow to his audience, and a deeper one to Loki, before taking his seat.
Loki sighed. He would rather be anywhere than here, celebrating the day of his birth. At least he’d had the foresight to choose his own skald, a young scholar whose talents ran more towards brevity and powerful overstatement than long, drawn-out purple prose. His entire life had just been summed up in less time than it took to serve the soup course, diplomatically omitting Laufey’s neglect and disdain, Farbauti’s benign indifference, and the fact that he’d had to depose one of the few Jötunn he’d admired and who had always had faith in him.
None of that was for public consumption in any case. Loki was certain that if Laufey had ever managed a second heir, Loki would have ended up the victim of some tragic accident. As it was, he was half-certain that Laufey had maliciously orchestrated his early death, and Farbauti’s, to make it as difficult as possible for Loki to ascend the throne.
Not that it would have been easy in any case. A runt and a magic-user, Loki was hardly anyone’s first choice for king. He would have made a wonderful advisor, a brilliant ambassador, a fantastic councillor, but king? That was a role for warriors, for the large, imposing nobles who made up Loki’s inner circle. For Skrymir.
It was a good thing that Skrymir hadn’t thought that way. The moment Loki had proven himself, taking Jötunheim’s heart and power as his own, Skrymir had stepped aside with a smile and a careful embrace. Loki was grateful for him, and would likely be eternally indebted to him.
Which was why he was here tonight, when he’d rather be reading or researching or even hearing the complaints of his people or the ambassadors from the other Realms. As enjoyable as feasts were, he couldn’t shake the idea that almost everyone here was present despite him, not because of him.
“Smile a little,” Skrymir suggested softly. “You’re still young, Loki. You needn’t put on the mask of the stoic just yet.”
Loki sighed. “Why should I? Would it comfort my people to believe that I take pleasure in this pointless display? Would it attract a fine mate, any of whom I could have by virtue of my station whether they appreciated a stoic façade or a cheersome smile? Would it satisfy the young skald that I approved of his blessedly short tribute?”
“It would satisfy me, my king,” Skrymir said, his tone rumbling with good humour. “For I am old, and easily placated by the cleverness of your quick mind.”
“There is nothing and no one as difficult to placate as you, my friend,” Loki retorted. But he found, to his horror, that he was smiling.
Skrymir smiled back. “And yet here I am, utterly and completely satisfied with nothing but a smile from my king.”
“Loki-king.” Loki’s attention returned to the center of the room, where Angrboda was setting up a dance for his entertainment. “With your permission.”
Loki waved her on and she bowed with admirable grace and depth. Loki gave himself a moment to admire her; she was handsome and lithe for a Frost Giant, and only half again as tall as Loki himself. What made her even more attractive was her quick and agile mind, and her willingness to use her wit to entertain Loki when he was in a foul mood. She was one of the few subjects who willingly, even eagerly, aided Loki in his magic without demanding an equal voice in his council.
He would have taken her to his bed ages ago, made her an official consort, were it not for the fact that he was the first king of Jötunheim who could conceivably form an alliance through marriage with one of the other Realms. As long as he entertained the prospect of a Vanir or even Asgardian political marriage, the only position he could offer Angrboda was bed-warmer.
And she deserved better.
A pall of gloom fell over Loki as Angrboda and several other maidens danced for his entertainment. Skrymir made a deep sound of concerned warning, but Loki’s thoughts had turned inexorably to the prison of his position and the heavy responsibilities and duties that weighed on his shoulders. The celebration of his birth usually affected him thus, bringing up old resentments and current regrets, and Loki wanted nothing more than to be free of them.
He watched the dancers for a few more moments, waiting for his dark mood to pass, and then stood when it didn’t, gesturing to one of the dancers at random who came to her king’s side.
Tomorrow, he would return to his duties and responsibilities and ensure the best for his people. Tonight, he just wanted to forget about all that.
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As the decades and centuries passed, Asgard and Jötunheim prospered and Midgard grew by tremendous leaps and bounds, emerging from the dark age triggered by the loss of magic from that Realm and into a renaissance and rebirth, perfecting and manipulating tools and machines into more and more complicated devices that could soon do the work of ten, twenty, even a hundred men. They relied more and more on their technology, to the point that their planet glowed with the artificial lights that brightened their night, even through the dense smog that was the byproduct of their avaricious desire for new and more innovative tools.
Heimdall watched over them, reporting the more significant discoveries to his king. Steam-powered transportation, electricity, flying machines, nuclear weapons, space exploration, computers… anything that brought the Midgardians closer to the other Eight Realms and increased their ability to destroy once they arrived there was forwarded to Asgard’s king and shared judiciously with the rulers of the other Realms.
As Thor grew, he remained convinced that the best defence was a strong offence, and advocated loudly for excursions to Midgard to remind them of their place. Tony, who would never surpass his elder brother in stature but who loomed head and shoulders over him in maturity, suggested learning from the humans, making their strengths Asgard’s. The unchanging Realm was clearly stifling to the creative young god and he chaffed at the limitations forced on him by the warrior society that raised him.
Odin listened to neither son, and continued to maintain Asgard’s lofty distance from Midgard’s problems, despite turning a blind eye to the occasional forays of the more adventurous youths. When Tony and Thor turned to the leaders of the other Realms, they found that most of them were stuffy old men who followed the Allfather in all of his edicts unless they directly opposed their own self-interest. Midgard, isolated from the other Realms and still obviously inferior (if gradually less and less so) to them, was not nearly pressing enough to risk dropping in the Allfather’s esteem.
The only ear that seemed receptive to them was Loki-king’s. Of an age with Tony and Thor, he was too young to remember the Midgard Wars, having been born just before they ended. He agreed that the Midgardins were slowly becoming more of a threat, but advocated patience and research before making any moves that could be met with disapproval. Tony agreed with the research part, and Thor was just glad to have someone who could, conceivably, enable him to pursue his glorious quest to cow the Midgardians. Besides, Loki-king indulged him in his craving for adventure whenever they visited Jötunheim, never even once making mockery of Thor when he returned from a poorly thought-out quest injured and bloody and empty-handed. Tony said that was only because Loki-king knew his ventures were doomed to failure and enjoyed humbling the God of Thunder, but Thor thought he was just jealous since Loki-king admired Thor’s bravery and valour outright while only complimenting Tony’s intelligence in private.
Politics aside, the three royals spent a great deal of time together, finding refuge away from the older rulers and ambassadors. Tony and Thor had known Loki as a prince before he was crowned king, and the new title and responsibilities didn’t change the fact that they shared memories of Loki’s magic turning the washing water bright green and staining the faces of half the delegation from Alfheim or Tony’s intricate traps that made hunting simpler and far safer or Thor’s drunken confessions as they helped him to his room.
They each had their own groups of close friends – Thor had Sif and the Warriors Three, Tony had Sigyn and a group of like-minded scholars, and Loki had his advisors and a few Jötunn magic users like himself. But there was something about being princes, kings-in-waiting, that had drawn them together. Loki seemed to find Thor amusing, Tony and Loki enjoyed their verbal spars, and Thor regarded them both with the benign condescension of Asgard’s crown prince, even after Loki took Jötunheim’s throne.
As Thor grew stronger and Loki’s magic grew more powerful, Tony started designing tools based on Midgard’s technology to keep up. What started as more intricate distance weapons such as slings and arrows turned into firearms and blowtorches, which then turned into an elaborate full suit of armour, powered by some of the magical trinkets given to the youngest prince as gifts, full of weapons and tools, even able to fly after a few hard months of work after Thor managed to fly with Mjölnir. He was taunted for the first little while for using cowardly Midgardian tools rather than working on increasing his strength and skills, but the sheer destruction he could cause and the way he and Thor learned to work together to get the most out of his invention soon won over most of his detractors.
Still, he was covered from head to toe in protective armour, and the suit required a very conservative haircut, which made him stand out from his fellow Asgardians, with their flowing locks and beards. But he would have stood out in any case, unable to bulk up enough to match the broad shoulders of the average Asgardian warrior, and not even close to managing their height. In that, he shared something of Loki’s resentment for everyone who stood so easily over him.
The one thing Tony refused to do, however, was stand in anyone’s shadow. He made a name for himself separate from Thor’s, separate from Odin’s, and carved a niche all his own. He never backed down, standing firm and as tall as possible against physical and verbal opponents, only relenting when either he or his opponent was found to be in the right or in the wrong. There was nothing subtle about him, nothing retiring or timid, and all of Asgard had to learn to either accept him or face the exhausting task of dealing with him.
It helped that Odin found it all amusing rather than embarrassing.
Loki, Tony, and Thor found their places and grew comfortable in them. Their kingdoms grew powerful and secure, and their people took comfort in the fact that their future rulers would be as strong and wise and courageous as their present ones. The future seemed to be as perfect as any future could be.
And then everything changed on the fateful night Thor was to be anointed as Asgard’s official heir.