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The first time Heimdall met Loki, he couldn’t take his eyes off him. This graceful almost-feline creature with his long red-gold hair and brilliant gold-green eyes offset by creamy pale skin, clad as he was in the autumn colors of browns, reds and coppers.
Such bravado the young man showed his father, presenting himself to Odin at his court, demanding a place there as Odin was ‘flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone, blood of his blood’ through his mother’s side of the family.
Odin looked at the graceful male, clearly thinking it over. “Very well, nephew. Stay then in Valhalla as long as you wish. Heimdall, my son? Could you please show your cousin to his rooms?”
Heimdall flushed slightly as he saw everyone looking at him, then moved quickly and efficiently to Loki’s side. “Ah, very well, cousin. Follow me.”
Loki looked Heimdall up and down, deciding he liked what he saw.
The younger Aesir’s hair was long and silvery with a hint of blue that complemented his azure eyes and marble pale skin. He looked as if he was a statue formed by a master sculptor, melding youth’s slim grace with the efficiency and power of a true hunter.
The long sleeved dark blue tunic and leggings only enhanced the pallor of his skin, the silvery embroidery was the same tint as his hair, coiling in vinelike patterns and celtic knots over the lean form.
Heimdall showed his guest to his quarters with quiet competency. Loki noticed that he did not seem to be much for talking, and as such, proceeded to engage the Aesir in conversation. They went over the finer points of hunting and then over to the laws that governed gods and men. Loki was pleasantly surprised to find his quiet escort was a bookworm and quite knowledgeable in many things. This was fascinating, given that from the young Aesir’s reactions, he was not used to people that well.
This would be useful. Such an innocent soul would be easy to corrupt. Loki was willing to bet that he could break him within a few moons.
A pity, really. He was starting to like the other man.
Ah, well, you can’t destroy a citadel without breaking a few hearts!
Over the following years, Heimdall seemed to have a disconcerting tendency to run into Loki on several of the guest’s missions. The new ‘god of fire and mischief’ was always ready to tell a story, or take Heimdall out drinking or hunting with him. This was a welcome change from months and years of no one to talk to but the damn wolves in the hinterlands.
Loki tended to enjoy physical contact, Heimdall discovered, when he braided the other god’s hair for him. The strands were silky soft and sleek, a vibrant fire color. He was quite surprised to hear Loki, eyes half-lidded and sensuous, purring, a low deep rumble of pure pleasure coming from low in the throat.
It did not help Heimdall’s newly awakened hormones one bit.
Neither did the fire god’s newfound tendency to keep touching him, one way or the other. Nothing overtly lecherous or objectionable, true, but… It was distracting. So were the times that Loki would lie across his lap like a great big cat and snuggle him playfully. Never in public of course, but it was still both disturbing and oddly pleasant.
It always made him blush.
Loki discovered to his annoyance, that he was actually…fond… of his loyal, honorable, decent, and extremely innocent companion. This would not do. Not at all.
He would have to betray the boy in less than a century and THEN where would he be?
But… he could not stay away. The boy was beginning to expect his presence, was beginning to trust him… and Loki had to admit, the look in Heimdall’s eyes whenever the quiet lad lit up at the sight of him, and only him, was not only flattering, but… pleasant as well.
It made him happy. Loki wasn’t used to being happy.
He wanted to keep this feeling. Keep Heimdall.
Well, if he wanted to keep Heimdall, he’d have to go on the offensive, wouldn’t he?
Heimdall was nearly startled out of his wits when he slipped a step on the slippery marble stairs and fell backward. For a horrible moment of vertigo, he thought he was going to break his neck on the stairs, before he felt warm arms wrapping around him, catching him. He looked up to find Loki, smiling at him and he flushed as he regained his footing.
“Ah… thank you. I owe you my life.” He blurted out, flustered and embarrassed.
Loki tapped his chin a bit, arms folded in a contemplative pose.
“Well then, I should take my reward then, right?” he suggested, teasingly, a glint of mischief in his citrine eyes.
Heimdall blinked, “Reward?” he asked, blankly.
Loki grinned. “Ah. This.”
And he leaned over and captured Heimdall’s lips with his own, his tongue gliding smoothly along the soft lower lip before claiming him completely, tongue darting inside to play with Heimdall’s own.
When he let go, the Aesir was flushed and looked deliciously disheveled.
Loki grinned ferally, like a cat and, finger to his lips, he departed, leaving Heimdall staring at his back.
This proceeded according to plan, Loki surprising Heimdall with kisses and caresses out of nowhere and then leaving him wanting. The confused and very flustered young man cornered Loki later in his own rooms and demanded to know what Loki thought he was doing.
Loki blinked at him in seeming surprise and pointed out he was being very obvious about it. He wanted Heimdall. And, he added, as he looked at the shellshocked man with predatory eyes, He admitted he liked him. A lot.
Heimdall stared in shock for a while and then flushed a lovely shade of red and ran. Or would have run, had Loki not caught him and pinned him to the wall, leaving kisses down his neck
“Think about it.” He said, huskily, looking up at Heimdall through long black lashes.
Heimdall fled.
Loki smirked. The conquest was proceeding according to plan.
Some months later, Heimdall was shocked and horrified when he saw Loki fall in battle… or seem to fall in battle. In truth, the false god was faking it, even taking a wound ‘for Heimdall’s sake’ to make it more realistic.
Heimdall went berserk.
Some time later, when he was bandaging the bloody wound, a panicky Heimdall ranted at Loki, demanding to know why he had taken the blow for him.
Loki looked up at Heimdall from his prone position and told him, eyes full of sincerity, that he would rather have been hurt than to see Heimdall hurt. Because he was in love with him.
Heimdall fell for it. Hook, Line, and sinker.
Their ‘relationship’ proceeded rapidly to become more and more serious, and at the same time, more clandestine. Heimdall didn’t want to hurt his friend and lover’s chances of advancement after all, and so he kept his silence when his father rewarded Loki with a wife and a palace in exchange for a job well done.
To his consolation, Loki still came to stay with HIM a lot of the time, and admitted to him when they were in private, that he did not much care for the woman.
Loki found himself in over his head. He truly cared for Heimdall, but the fact was, he could not save him. The giants were still planning to destroy Asgard and Valhalla… and Heimdall would be in their way.
They would kill him. Torture him to death. Slowly and painfully.
This hurt Loki more than he wanted to admit. It preyed at him, ate away at his mind and sanity. It made him act erratically. Heimdall, worried for his health, took him into his home with open arms.
This only made it worse.
Loki could not stand the thought that his allies would kill Heimdall in such a way. Heimdall was precious to him. Precious enough that the thought of him in pain HURT Loki like a physical ache.
After months of dickering, Loki found that his allies would not give in. Heimdall had to go before the attack. But, they added, as a reward, Loki could use him before he died. Were they not generous?
Loki agreed verbally, but mentally was thinking of ways to cheat them. He could not turn to the Aesir. They would kill HIM. So. That left one option.
He would have to kill Heimdall himself.
Cleanly.
The way he deserved.
This hurt too, but at least, Loki reflected, it was better than the alternative.
It was a rude awakening.
Heimdall woke up in time to barely avoid the stab, rolling over to shield himself from the assassin’s dagger, looking up to see who was his would-be murderer… only to see his lover’s face and ice cold green eyes looking at him, as Loki struck at him with the speed of a viper.
Heimdall’s heart shattered at the cold, unfeeling LOOK on his friend.. his lover’s eyes.
To his credit, Heimdall didn’t beg for mercy.
He couldn’t stop the tears of course, and this made his wounds worse when he failed to dodge a strike.
Loki stabbed at him, narrowly missing, as Heimdall rolled away, and managed to grab his own belt dagger.
“WHY?!” Heimdall demanded, his chest hurting from within as if it was being forcefully ripped out, what felt like an achingly empty space already beginning to form.
“Because. I have to. For what it’s worth, Heimdall, I meant for the best. I really do love you. But I know they won’t let me keep you. And I can’t let them break you. I’d rather kill you myself first, to spare you that. Stay still, and I promise, Heimdall, I swear, I’ll make it as painless as possible!”
Heimdall put the pieces together with creditable speed and choked out, “You’re the traitor we were warned about! You.. you used me!”
The clash of blades rang through the apartment as they fought, sparks flying off as the blades blocked each other, metal screeching in hideous accompaniment.
In the end, Heimdall drove Loki off long enough to trigger an alarm. And the traitor fled, like a bat out of Hell.
After that incident, the final battles of Ragnarok began.
And in each and every one, Heimdall and Loki sought each other out with intent to kill.
On sight.
Heimdall because he could not bear the fact that he had been betrayed….
And Loki?
Loki could not bear the idea that Himdall could fall to anyone ELSE.
Heimdall was HIS.
No one would take Heimdall away from him.
NOBODY.
He killed even those of his ‘allies’ who dared attack his ex-lover, springing Heimdall loose from a number of traps that could have killed him.
This only confused Heimdall more, causing him to demand,
“WHY do you save me when you want me dead?!”
“I don’t want you dead by anyone else’s hands but my own, Heimdall-love. You belong to me. I will never let you go.”
“WHY do you keep trying to kill me then, if you love me?”
“I have to. Because I can’t bear the thought of you belonging to anyone else. In death or in life, Heimdall, you are MINE and I do not abandon what I love.”
This only served to confuse Heimdall more.
Loki thought to himself sardonically, a bitter twist to his smile, that this was better anyway. Due to his sabotage, even his own allies were dying, losing.
The gods too, were dying. Soon there would be too few of either side left.
Perhaps it was time for him to leave them to their own deaths.
He had what he wanted, now, of course.
After all, from now on, Heimdall would chase him anywhere he went.. he’d made sure of that. And in the end, Heimdall would belong to him. Either he would kill Heimdall with his own hands or Heimdall would kill him. Both were equally good, because they would never be together after this, and he could not bear to leave Heimdall alone.
In the end, it was Heimdall who killed Loki.
“Heimdall-love.. you make me so proud.”
Loki smirked, weakly wiping blood from his mouth as he lay, dying. A gut wound. Painful, but appropriate.. and certainly better than what had been lying in store for him if he’d managed to succeed in killing the one he loved.
“In the end, Heimdall, you will always be mine. My blood will forever stain your hands. And in the end, I have claimed you. You will never forget me now.”
The sword that had inflicted the killing blow lay embedded in a steel pillar by the strength of the strike. Heimdall didn’t notice or care, as he knelt beside Loki’s dying form
He had to know.
Had to have the answer to a question that had eaten at him since the betrayal.
“WHY did you betray me?” Heimdall demanded. “I LOVED YOU.”
“Because I could not bear to lose you to anyone else. Because even the chance of you killing me with your own hands is better than being left alone without you by my side. Because even your hatred is better than indifference.
Because I love you and I cannot let you go. Remember this, Heimdall.. In the end, Love is only another way to bleed.”
 Heimdallr · Sun Dec 31, 2006 @ 01:58pm · 1 Comments |
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