Chapter Text
The violent clashing of steel against ice echoed through the halls of the palace. The soldiers of Asgard were pushing the warriors of Jotunheim further into the city, conquering the lands of eternal winter. Loki Laufeyson, the youngest heir of the Fierce Warrior-King Laufey, sat silently beside his dam, listening to the armies of Asgard press further and further into the palace. The sounds of fighting drew closer and closer to their chamber door. Wrapped tightly in gold and precious stones from elbows to fingertips, the Jeweled Sorcerer-King Farbauti twisted his hands in complex circles, weaving spells of protection into the doors.
Sensing his dam’s hands faltering in their spell casting, Loki raised his own to complete the spells. Weaving his own fingers through the familiar magic of his carrier, bending it to his will, Loki sealed the spells tightly to the entrance to the chamber. He understood the importance of keeping this room safe from invasion. It housed the greatest treasure of Jotunheim.
The battle raged on. For three days and three nights Loki sat at the door, listening for any sign that the war would be over. Farbauti remained at his side, plaiting and re-plaiting his hair, draping and re-draping the pleats of his skirts. Loki suffered his dam’s attentions quietly. In three days hardly a word was spoken between them.
As light pierced the horizon on the fourth morning, the sounds of battle ceased abruptly. A distant cheer sent a shiver of fear through the room’s occupants. Loki could feel it in the way his dam’s hand tensed on his shoulder. He could feel his own tension deep in his bones.
“The war is over.” Farbauti murmured, his voice scarcely a whisper. Loki turned his eyes to the mountains of snow, barely visible through the sheer curtains of the window. What horrors would the Aesir inflict upon the Jotnar, the people of Jotunheim; his people. Farbauti turned from the door, silently gathering the clothing Loki had cast aside days ago.
Loki rose at his dam’s beckoning, returning to his royal dress so they may face the conquering army with dignity. Farbauti adjusted Loki’s skirts once more, folding the fabric of the deepest black with the greatest care, the finely woven gold border displayed prominently on the length of his leg. The pristine white fur of an ice stag was then wrapped around his waist, jeweled clasps pinning it into place.
Next a length of fabric that matched his skirts was carefully wound around his back, crossing his chest and draped over his shoulders. Farbauti placed the edges of fabric against the floor, ensuring they were even and that the crest of the house of Laufey King embroidered into the wrap was carefully centered on Loki’s back.
Exquisite ornaments - jewels as large and brilliant as a dragon’s eyes, golden bracelets by the dozen, strings of pearls and dragon teeth - were applied to Loki’s arms, chest, and neck, covering the young Jotnar in precious materials. A delicate jeweled chain was finally tied to his horns, draping down across his forehead; a traditional sign of royalty among the Jotnar instead of the crowns used by the people of Asgard.
Running his hand down his child’s plaited hair, Farbauti carefully traced the strings of gold interwoven with the the ink black strands. Loki stood passively as his dam ensured that no detail was out of place. When it was time to apply the final mark of his station, Loki raised his eyes to meet his dam’s.
Farbauti fell to one knee before his youngest child, his fairest and most delicate child. In a moment of weakness, the Jeweled Sorcerer-King allowed his proud head to rest against Loki’s. The two sorcerer’s, so alike in magic, yet so different in station shared a final gaze. Both understood what the fall of Jotunheim would mean for their people.
“My precious child,” Farbauti was first to break the silence of the room, “this is what you were born to do. You were destined for this purpose. It is your duty to protect all of Jotunheim.” Loki turned away from his dam, bracelets moving musically as he summoned the fabric that set him apart from every other Jotnar on Jotunheim. “If there were any other way, Loki-” Farbauti paused.
“I understand. It is my place to repair the damage wrought by my sire in this foolish war.” Loki smiled softly at his beloved Sorcerer-King. “I fear my fate, but I do not deny it, my dam. Regardless of the distance between us, you will always be with me. In the magic you have taught and the spells you have woven. Though I may travel far from our lands, I will never be alone.”
Loki presented the sheer cloth in his hands to his King Farbauti, bowing his head delicately in respect. With a final touch to his son’s cheek, Farbauti placed the veil over the youngest Laufey heir. Stepping back, the powerful Jotnar sorcerer bowed deeply to honor the Treasure of Jotunheim.