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Title: Wyrd
Author: ciaranbochna
Characters: Loki, Odin, mentions of Thor, OC
Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the world.
Length: 810
Rating: R (rather violent and dark)
Spoilers: Thor and The Avengers

A/N: Something of an experiment, slightly influenced by migraine and/or fever, and my own voices. Abuse of Futhark. Apologies.


If you do not shine you find other ways.

Every letter, every phrase, inside-out, infinitely different with each twist of your lip, each roll of the tongue. He can mimic father by the time he is two. Thor is the first word he shapes. Pathetic, but eventually he learns not to try.

When he is six he can cover the sound of his footsteps in the halls, cover the sound of his breathing, throw words around corners, into his brother’s mouth (not the last time). He doesn’t mimic father when anyone can hear, now - father’s voice fills the cavern below the palace when Loki is alone, but it isn’t enough. It doesn’t matter, there are so many sounds he can create, he no longer needs theirs.

They think they hold him with the gag, that without his tongue they are safe. There are things forgotten, things Loki learned in the void that do not require a tongue.  If one is careful, one can scribe names on the air, and reality will shiver, and quake. He leans into his bonds and smiles. The world writhes in agony.

Ken (reversed)

He knows nothing of sun, nothing of harbour, safety, belonging. Fear, loathing, rage, agony, oh those he has befriended. Kept close at night, as he slipped away before father could find another reason to deny him, another excuse to carve something else away. He is smaller, weaker, and darker than Thor. He prefers the quiet, watching the nine realms with Heimdall. Slipping through the guards to watch the Destroyer, and though the guards don’t see him, the shadows beneath the Destroyers helm shift - they see. He can feel the Destroyer watching him, but he isn’t afraid. He wants what the Destroyer has, and knows that he will have it one day. Because he isn’t like his brother, and he doesn’t need to be. He is least of all of them, and he will use it to survive.


Loki can feel it when he smiles. It isn’t laughter, and never joy. When he laughs it breaks out of him, and spreads into the faces of those around him. Oh, then. That moment when their muscles clench, and they try to repress the shaking. Some are better than others at trying to hide it, some he doesn’t see twitch. But he knows. He has never felt it himself, but he can give them this gift.  People are so simple, in all the most useful ways.

He sees the whorls appear on the back of his hand, the blue creeping in. He drives the nail of his other hand into the centre of the pattern, and it disappears.  He doesn’t need to see. He knows.


At least 10 down the right. More likely 12. It will take him more than a month to sort out the fractures in his feet, never mind his ribs. Here endeth the lesson. Loki laughs and feels his arm shatter. Oh, he has Odin’s attention this time. Almost as if he cared. But that was long ago, and far away,  and Loki is far past telling stories now. He doesn’t honestly understand what they all see in Midgard. Save perhaps one city, and the promise he made there. Borghild. Loki smiles, feels his shattered cheekbone twist, and winks at Odin. Odin’s howl of rage is perfectly lovely.  Odin lifts his staff to strike again. Loki spits blood at his feet.

“This is so much easier than speaking isn’t it Odin.” Loki can feel him flinch. He won’t use father.

“You never needed me to unite  Asgard and Jotunheim. We both know that. You needed to learn your enemies weaknesses, and what better way than an abandoned child you could mold to your whims?.”

“Loki, that isn’t what I—“ Odin lowers the staff, stricken.

“There is always a motive. I have learned that much from you. It was all I needed. Now, if there is nothing else?” Loki stands on shattered feet. There was a story once, about dancing on knives. Feels about the same. He walks away from Odin, closing the cell door behind him, holding his arms out so the chains wind around him. Loki hears a muffled thump as Odin drops his staff. Ah. The small victories.


Nothing. Yes, that is what it should be, what he wants. I have perfect control, or let them think I do, until...

It is quiet here, between. He can hear Thanos, but only if he wants to. And he won’t. Not now. There are runes under his skin. He has learned to imprint the world inside him. And what is inside him, will unmake the world. Return to the silence. Life is so much cacophony.

And when his children hear him -  it will stop. Peace is not something he knows, but he will create a new world, and a language he can understand. A place, and silence, and the words.


Ansur - Mouth
Ken - Loss
Isaz - Ice
Peorth - secrets
Wyrd - blank (like the Joker in a standard deck, influenced by runes surrounding it).


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 2nd, 2012 08:40 am (UTC)
Oh cooooooool. Are you going to link this at the Avengers comm? You should!
Oct. 2nd, 2012 02:55 pm (UTC)
Err, I don't know. I did with the last one, but as we both said, I think it is a pretty quiet community...lol

Thanks:) I needed something violent after today (perhaps you did too?)


Edited at 2012-10-02 02:56 pm (UTC)
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )