You will find out more about Asta as the story goes on. Asta is my own character and is the daughter of Loki, her hybrid status as officially being part Frost Giant and part Asgardian. This is a series that will go over the course of before the cinematic universe, during, and after. This will be a series of one-shots that more or less follow a plot and time-line.

Her stage name, Flar, is a reference to an old Norse word meaning treacherous. The name of the Burlesque, Libidine, is latin for Lust. But there we have it, the beginning tone set for the story as Asta tries to venture away from her father and people's hatred for him that they tend to reflect onto her. She's trying to become her own person. This occurs way before the events of any of the movies, with Asta being an adult and older than what is normal for most species, but still fairly young to the eyes of Asgardians, around three hundred or so years old. Yondu is only newly a captain of the Ravangers, putting him around twenty-two or so.

This story is also posted under the same username & title on Archive of Our Own.


She could feel this rage burning under her skin, mixing with the shame in her veins and eventually, it turned her bones into ice and her eyes into a fire and she wanted nothing more than to howl and scream until her throat was raw and her lungs could no longer draw any more breaths. It was always there, that rage and hatred. She never could get rid of it. It was always filling her mind.

When she looked to her father, she could see the same burning rage hidden in his eyes and the tense lock of his jaw. The way he moved was more deadly, precise, with a sharp edge. But to the naked eyed, there stood a precise, calculating, calm, clever Asgardian whose only sharpness was his silver tongue. She drew from his example and tried her best to become something in his image. A princess, a warrior, a trickster. She wasn't sure, just that she drew her strength from the pride in he had in his eyes when he looked at her.

But no more.

No more whispered tones in the halls of Asgard about how it was only a matter of time until she showed her 'true colors.' No more gossip running through the mill of how I refuse to believe she's a true princess. She's a freak of nature. No more muttered monster under people's breath. No longer did she accept to stand in his shadow only to become his mirror image.

A steady beat of music filled her ears and her heart followed the lead. She could finally breath and thought it strange how she breathed easier in the tight corset around her bust than she ever did in Asgard. The dark satin curtains pulled back and her hip moved to the steady rhythm as she walked with the confidence of someone who knew they'd never get found.

She looked out to the crowd and saw hunger eyes drawn to her, howls of excitement mixed with the music, and she smirked knowing that she was the best.

She was no longer Asta, Loki's daughter, destined to become a twisted, ill-intent trickster with a silver tongue that could tie people's fate like a cherry stem.

According to every poster and announcer within the Libidine Burlesque, she was the star performer, Flár