crowns and princes, part 4/?
“You have an afternoon free,” said Loki. “I’m shocked.”
“Sorry,” Thor groused, sitting up from where he had been sprawled out across the grass, enjoying the sunlight. “Not all of us can be the Allfather’s cupbearer, you know. Some of us are princes. Some of us have no time for idle leisure.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Wonderful! About what?”
Loki sighed and sat down. Their knees bumped. “About being your lieutenant,” he said patiently. “You’re spending far too much time on paperwork. Clearly you require some assistance.”
Thor squinted at him. “And what made you change your mind?”
This was answered by a shrug. Loki: enigmatic as ever. What a surprise. Thor rolled his eyes. “Well, thanks,” he said. “Everything’s on my desk. Just-I don’t know. Forge my signature on the requisition forms. Or something.”
“I’ll make summaries of the reports,” Loki said, “if you promise to read them.”
“Of course I’ll read them! I’m very responsible.” Something else drilled into him, in preparation for the kingship. “I’m crown prince.”
“Were you really? I had no idea.”
Thor shoved him. Loki fell back with a huff of laughter, the black of his high collar a stark contrast against the grass.
“Peace,” he said. “I could never forget your position. You are the only prince of Asgard, after all.”
“Yes, well,” Thor said, “sometimes I wish I weren’t. The only one, I mean.”
Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Do you? You were always terrible at sharing things. Toys, attention, apple tarts-”
“I was nine! And you tried to steal it from me! You could have just asked.”
“But what would be the fun in that?”
“Not getting tossed into the pond when I caught you?” Thor suggested.
“Ah. True.” Loki sat up. He elbowed him, but it was gentle. “Why aren’t you with your father? Isn’t he in a meeting?”
“Father,” Thor said, “said I had to have a few hundred more lessons in diplomacy before he let me anywhere near the jotunn diplomats, with the situation as it is.”
“That bad?”
“Awful. I don’t know what they’re so upset about this time.”
“Perhaps,” said Loki, “they’re angry about being a subjugated race.”
“But we won fair and square!” Thor objected. “And they started the war, anyway, so they shouldn’t have done that if they don’t like the consequences.”
“Mm,” said Loki, and lapsed into pointed silence. Thor scowled at him. Loki was projecting an air of I know something you don’t that had so infuriated him during their childhood lessons together, and more often than not he wouldn’t say anything unless the tutor asked; it was a very smug air, and extremely annoying. Thor resisted the temptation to push him over again.
“Well, whatever,” he groused. “Father won’t let me into the negotiations anyway.”
Loki said nothing. He was merely watching, silent and inscrutable; his eyes were blue-green, like the endless veil of stars at the world’s edge. Thor felt himself flush beneath this gaze.
He cleared his throat.
“You would tell me if anyone was bothering you, right?” he asked, remembering the bruises.
“Of course,” Loki agreed.
IX.
The situation with the frost giants grew worse.
Thor was removed from the worst of it, but he could see the tension around the palace: his father, short-tempered; his mother grown thin and edgy; the nobles murmuring unhappily amongst themselves at the high tables. If war came, Asgard would win-
But wars were always costly, in life and gold and resources, and no one wanted it to come to that.
Well, the aesirs did not. Thor had no idea what the jotunn were thinking. He pushed his men harder; if battle did come, this was the company he would be leading, and he would be a poor captain to them if he shirked his duty beforehand. They would be ready. He would be ready; a wise king, his father had said, never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it.
Thor remembered these lessons.
Sometimes Loki came to watch them train, a dark shadow at the corner of the courtyard where his men practiced, and those were the days when Thor found himself putting a few more flourishes into his swordwork than strictly necessary. He tried not to wonder why.
X.
There was a feast, despite everything. A successful hunt deserved celebration, and Thor laughed at Fandral’s jokes and complimented Sif when she turned up, scowling, in a dress and lost a drinking game to Volstagg, and, by some unspoken accord, no one mentioned the frost giants and the threat of violence hanging over Asgard like a heavy cloud.
Everything was going well at the high table, until Thor, in a fit of slightly-tipsy playfulness, leaned back and flicked a grape at Loki’s head.
Loki, in position behind Odin’s chair with the wine, shot him a dark look. “What?” he hissed.
“Just making sure you were awake,” Thor said, grinning.
“Of course I’m awake,” Loki murmured, moving closer so that he could be heard above the voices of the gathered nobles and dignitaries of Asgard. “How could I be anything but enthralled at your seventeenth recounting of how you hit things with your hammer until they died?”
“You’re just jealous,” Thor said loftily. “If you want to improve your fighting skills, I would be more than happy to teach you.”
“Your generosity never fails to fill me with dread,” said Loki, and that was when Thor realized that his mother was staring at them, narrow-eyed, and her knuckles gone white around the stem of her fork.
He frowned. “Mother?” he called across the table. “Are you all right?”
But his mother was not looking at him. She was looking at Loki, and there was something terrible in the set of her mouth.
Her cutlery hit the plate with a clatter. There was a sudden hush.
“I will not have him at the table,” she said, white-lipped and trembling. “He will not have my son, after everything he has done. Leave.”
Loki had frozen. At her words, he set down the jar of wine, slowly, by Odin’s elbow. He bowed.
“Your Majesty,” he said, quietly, and left the room.
“Mother,” said Thor, utterly shocked. “What-”
“Enough,” said Odin.
“But Loki-”
“Enough!” said the Allfather, and brought his goblet down onto the table with a crash. “Thor, hold your tongue!”
“I will not!” He was on his feet before he knew it, his chair tumbling over behind him, his heart pounding against his ribs with all the force of hammer-blows. “Father, what is going on? What has Loki done? If you would just explain-”
“Loki knows full well what he has done,” said Frigga, bitterly, and turned her face away.
There was silence in the feasting-hall.
“Father,” Thor said, pleading.
His father said nothing.
Thor turned and stalked away from the table. The great golden doors slammed shut behind him as he left the hall. He stood in the corridor, his breath coming harsh and fast in his throat, and blinked away the haze of helpless fury that clouded his view.
A shadow peeled itself away from the alcove on the wall. It straightened, took form-
“I thank you for your concern,” said Loki, mildly, “but was it truly wise to cause such a scene before every nobleman and general in all of Asgard?”
XI.
“All right,” Thor said, his boots thundering against the floor as he paced, Mjolnir a heavy, reassuring weight in his hand. “What is going on?”
They had all gathered in his room. Well, he had dragged Loki here, and then everyone else had followed-
Around the fire: Sif and Fandral and Hogun, looking uneasy. By the wall: Loki, a pale shadow peering out the window. At the table: Volstagg, pouring himself a tankard of mead.
Fandral cleared his throat. “Loki?”
“The lady Frigga is displeased,” said Loki, “because I am bearing rather more than Odin’s cups these days.”
“What?” said Thor.
Fandral groaned and slumped back.
“Loki. Odin. Together,” said Volstagg. And, bluntly: “In bed, Thor, or are you too thickheaded to see it? The king has taken Loki as his concubine.”
There was silence.
“As ever, thank you for your tact and subtlety, Volstagg,” Loki said at last. Thor swung around to stare at him.
“Tell me this is a joke,” he demanded, heart pounding. He had heard the words. He couldn’t believe them. He couldn’t-
Loki tilted his head. “It’s a joke,” he offered.
Mjolnir cracked into the window just inches from his head. Glass shattered and fell; the curtains billowed out in the sudden gust of wind. “Don’t lie to me!”
“If it’s any consolation,” said Loki, his eyes hooded, “the arrangement is not one that I would have chosen, myself.”
“You’re really-but Odin wouldn’t-Father would never-” Words failed him.
No. It was unthinkable.
His mother, tight-lipped and furious. His father, reticent.
The nobles, treating Loki with that strange mix of reverence and disdain.
Loki being moved to the upper palace. Loki on the stairs at odd hours, when there was no one on the upper floors but the royal family; Loki, his father’s favored companion-
Thor turned away, gripping his hammer, his thoughts in chaos. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.
The others were watching him, wary. “Why didn’t any of you tell me earlier?” he demanded.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Sif, and buried her face in her hands.
“Sorry,” Thor groused, sitting up from where he had been sprawled out across the grass, enjoying the sunlight. “Not all of us can be the Allfather’s cupbearer, you know. Some of us are princes. Some of us have no time for idle leisure.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Wonderful! About what?”
Loki sighed and sat down. Their knees bumped. “About being your lieutenant,” he said patiently. “You’re spending far too much time on paperwork. Clearly you require some assistance.”
Thor squinted at him. “And what made you change your mind?”
This was answered by a shrug. Loki: enigmatic as ever. What a surprise. Thor rolled his eyes. “Well, thanks,” he said. “Everything’s on my desk. Just-I don’t know. Forge my signature on the requisition forms. Or something.”
“I’ll make summaries of the reports,” Loki said, “if you promise to read them.”
“Of course I’ll read them! I’m very responsible.” Something else drilled into him, in preparation for the kingship. “I’m crown prince.”
“Were you really? I had no idea.”
Thor shoved him. Loki fell back with a huff of laughter, the black of his high collar a stark contrast against the grass.
“Peace,” he said. “I could never forget your position. You are the only prince of Asgard, after all.”
“Yes, well,” Thor said, “sometimes I wish I weren’t. The only one, I mean.”
Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Do you? You were always terrible at sharing things. Toys, attention, apple tarts-”
“I was nine! And you tried to steal it from me! You could have just asked.”
“But what would be the fun in that?”
“Not getting tossed into the pond when I caught you?” Thor suggested.
“Ah. True.” Loki sat up. He elbowed him, but it was gentle. “Why aren’t you with your father? Isn’t he in a meeting?”
“Father,” Thor said, “said I had to have a few hundred more lessons in diplomacy before he let me anywhere near the jotunn diplomats, with the situation as it is.”
“That bad?”
“Awful. I don’t know what they’re so upset about this time.”
“Perhaps,” said Loki, “they’re angry about being a subjugated race.”
“But we won fair and square!” Thor objected. “And they started the war, anyway, so they shouldn’t have done that if they don’t like the consequences.”
“Mm,” said Loki, and lapsed into pointed silence. Thor scowled at him. Loki was projecting an air of I know something you don’t that had so infuriated him during their childhood lessons together, and more often than not he wouldn’t say anything unless the tutor asked; it was a very smug air, and extremely annoying. Thor resisted the temptation to push him over again.
“Well, whatever,” he groused. “Father won’t let me into the negotiations anyway.”
Loki said nothing. He was merely watching, silent and inscrutable; his eyes were blue-green, like the endless veil of stars at the world’s edge. Thor felt himself flush beneath this gaze.
He cleared his throat.
“You would tell me if anyone was bothering you, right?” he asked, remembering the bruises.
“Of course,” Loki agreed.
IX.
The situation with the frost giants grew worse.
Thor was removed from the worst of it, but he could see the tension around the palace: his father, short-tempered; his mother grown thin and edgy; the nobles murmuring unhappily amongst themselves at the high tables. If war came, Asgard would win-
But wars were always costly, in life and gold and resources, and no one wanted it to come to that.
Well, the aesirs did not. Thor had no idea what the jotunn were thinking. He pushed his men harder; if battle did come, this was the company he would be leading, and he would be a poor captain to them if he shirked his duty beforehand. They would be ready. He would be ready; a wise king, his father had said, never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it.
Thor remembered these lessons.
Sometimes Loki came to watch them train, a dark shadow at the corner of the courtyard where his men practiced, and those were the days when Thor found himself putting a few more flourishes into his swordwork than strictly necessary. He tried not to wonder why.
X.
There was a feast, despite everything. A successful hunt deserved celebration, and Thor laughed at Fandral’s jokes and complimented Sif when she turned up, scowling, in a dress and lost a drinking game to Volstagg, and, by some unspoken accord, no one mentioned the frost giants and the threat of violence hanging over Asgard like a heavy cloud.
Everything was going well at the high table, until Thor, in a fit of slightly-tipsy playfulness, leaned back and flicked a grape at Loki’s head.
Loki, in position behind Odin’s chair with the wine, shot him a dark look. “What?” he hissed.
“Just making sure you were awake,” Thor said, grinning.
“Of course I’m awake,” Loki murmured, moving closer so that he could be heard above the voices of the gathered nobles and dignitaries of Asgard. “How could I be anything but enthralled at your seventeenth recounting of how you hit things with your hammer until they died?”
“You’re just jealous,” Thor said loftily. “If you want to improve your fighting skills, I would be more than happy to teach you.”
“Your generosity never fails to fill me with dread,” said Loki, and that was when Thor realized that his mother was staring at them, narrow-eyed, and her knuckles gone white around the stem of her fork.
He frowned. “Mother?” he called across the table. “Are you all right?”
But his mother was not looking at him. She was looking at Loki, and there was something terrible in the set of her mouth.
Her cutlery hit the plate with a clatter. There was a sudden hush.
“I will not have him at the table,” she said, white-lipped and trembling. “He will not have my son, after everything he has done. Leave.”
Loki had frozen. At her words, he set down the jar of wine, slowly, by Odin’s elbow. He bowed.
“Your Majesty,” he said, quietly, and left the room.
“Mother,” said Thor, utterly shocked. “What-”
“Enough,” said Odin.
“But Loki-”
“Enough!” said the Allfather, and brought his goblet down onto the table with a crash. “Thor, hold your tongue!”
“I will not!” He was on his feet before he knew it, his chair tumbling over behind him, his heart pounding against his ribs with all the force of hammer-blows. “Father, what is going on? What has Loki done? If you would just explain-”
“Loki knows full well what he has done,” said Frigga, bitterly, and turned her face away.
There was silence in the feasting-hall.
“Father,” Thor said, pleading.
His father said nothing.
Thor turned and stalked away from the table. The great golden doors slammed shut behind him as he left the hall. He stood in the corridor, his breath coming harsh and fast in his throat, and blinked away the haze of helpless fury that clouded his view.
A shadow peeled itself away from the alcove on the wall. It straightened, took form-
“I thank you for your concern,” said Loki, mildly, “but was it truly wise to cause such a scene before every nobleman and general in all of Asgard?”
XI.
“All right,” Thor said, his boots thundering against the floor as he paced, Mjolnir a heavy, reassuring weight in his hand. “What is going on?”
They had all gathered in his room. Well, he had dragged Loki here, and then everyone else had followed-
Around the fire: Sif and Fandral and Hogun, looking uneasy. By the wall: Loki, a pale shadow peering out the window. At the table: Volstagg, pouring himself a tankard of mead.
Fandral cleared his throat. “Loki?”
“The lady Frigga is displeased,” said Loki, “because I am bearing rather more than Odin’s cups these days.”
“What?” said Thor.
Fandral groaned and slumped back.
“Loki. Odin. Together,” said Volstagg. And, bluntly: “In bed, Thor, or are you too thickheaded to see it? The king has taken Loki as his concubine.”
There was silence.
“As ever, thank you for your tact and subtlety, Volstagg,” Loki said at last. Thor swung around to stare at him.
“Tell me this is a joke,” he demanded, heart pounding. He had heard the words. He couldn’t believe them. He couldn’t-
Loki tilted his head. “It’s a joke,” he offered.
Mjolnir cracked into the window just inches from his head. Glass shattered and fell; the curtains billowed out in the sudden gust of wind. “Don’t lie to me!”
“If it’s any consolation,” said Loki, his eyes hooded, “the arrangement is not one that I would have chosen, myself.”
“You’re really-but Odin wouldn’t-Father would never-” Words failed him.
No. It was unthinkable.
His mother, tight-lipped and furious. His father, reticent.
The nobles, treating Loki with that strange mix of reverence and disdain.
Loki being moved to the upper palace. Loki on the stairs at odd hours, when there was no one on the upper floors but the royal family; Loki, his father’s favored companion-
Thor turned away, gripping his hammer, his thoughts in chaos. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.
The others were watching him, wary. “Why didn’t any of you tell me earlier?” he demanded.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Sif, and buried her face in her hands.