The Unquiet Thought, Chapter 13
Oh hey look, Asgard.
Chapter 13
Out of the corner of his eye he sees a splash of red, but when he turns it’s gone. And then all he sees is the ground. There is a roar of mirth somewhere to his left.
“Pay attention, Fandral.”
Head spinning, he rubs off the dirt sticking to his face and rolls over. Sif towers above him, expression a mix of amused and annoyed. Volstagg’s laughter echoes through the training grounds and he doesn’t need to hear Hogun to know the man is enjoying himself at Fandral’s expense.
“I’m not going to pull a hit just because you’re distracted.”
“Right, yes,” he groans. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Stand up,” she knocks him in the ribs with the base of her glaive. “We’re not stopping until you actually fight me.”
There is just enough time for him to stand and straighten his shoulders before he has to duck.
-
He dumps a bucket of water over his head and sits there with his eyes closed, feeling it trail down his back and neck leaving a chill in its wake. It seeps into the fabric of his shirt and clings until he finally shakes the remnants out of his hair and strips down.
When he is clean and dressed he doesn’t search the others out; they will meet again for the evening meal, so until then he walks. His feet take him to the princes’ hall. It is empty, the servants having completed their rounds in the morning (which he knows because the sweet one with lovely brown eyes chats him up every day on his path to or from the fields).
The single sound of his footsteps echoes cleanly off the embellished walls. They are the only sound he hears until he passes the familiar door of his friend’s quarters. A shuffling joins the sound of his steps and when Fandral stops it doesn’t. He stands quietly by the door for a few minutes. There is no change, always walking, walking, walking. He doesn’t knock until he hears the choked breath.
“Thor?”
The noise continues, but there is no response. No one should be here; Thor had sworn to remain with his Midgardians until Loki had been contained. He knocks again.
“Thor, my friend?”
Eventually he takes a step back because he cannot stand there forever. Torn, Fandral listens for a while longer, and then continues down the hall.
-
“Has Thor returned?”
Volstagg looks to him, in the process of ripping the meat off of a leg of boar.
“I haven’t heard anything of it, and if his quest had ended would there not be celebration and feasting?”
Sif snorts, “There is always feasting.” Hogun hums in agreement, shifting slightly out of the way when Volstagg make a dramatic gesture with the half chewed bone.
“More feasting then. But that it not the point, surely we would have known of his return. It is not a thing he would keep hidden from us.”
“Not usually, no.”
“Psh, stop brooding, it does not suit you. Just because Loki is no longer with us does not mean there is a need for another to take up his mantle.”
The others laugh. Fandral drains the rest of his glass. Then the tavern maid brings over another round of ale and he is thoroughly distracted.
-
He wanders the halls the next day, the next several days. Makes a habit of it. He sees Thor once, or at least a glimpse of him, leaving the queen’s receiving room. But he has rounded the corner and disappeared before Fandral is able to reach him.
-
They are again sitting in the fields, Fandral leaning back against the wall, hand cupping his head and laughing at himself. Sif is laughing at him too, except not out loud, next to him. The others stand close by.
“You are off your game this week, my friend.”
“Aye.”
Sif kicks him. “What is distracting you?”
“Thor is back.” They stare at him. “I saw him.”
Companionable silence reigns for a few moments. Volstagg slouches back on the fence of the practice ring.
“Perhaps he is unwell.”
“There must be a reason he has not sought us out,” Sif agrees. “When he is ready he will find us.” The others nod. Fandral picks at the dried mud stuck on his boot.
“Do you think that means Loki is back?”
Volstagg makes a thoughtful noise, but Sif grumbles in irritation until Hogun requests a match and the two move back into the open space of the ring. It appears as though the conversation is forgotten until his mountainous friend turns back to him.
“I hope he is not. It was never good for him here.”
“No,” Fandral sighs. “It really wasn’t.”
-
It is nearly a fortnight before their prince finally shows his face, but he is visibly agitated and getting worse. Acting more aggressive with everyone. Fandral almost asks after his brother, but some instinct tells him not to and so he sits, laughs where he is supposed to, and listens.
-
Fandral hesitates, pacing outside of Loki’s chambers before finally working up the courage and reaching out to the door. It opens in silence, as if the hinges have just been greased. Tension bleeds out of him when he steps inside and nothing happens immediately. Even so he should probably err on the side of caution for a few days.
The receiving room feels empty, nothing like the rooms Loki had as a youth when Fandral used to slip in to talk to the younger prince and listen to him wax poetic over every thought that crossed his mind. Brilliant, rapid thoughts.
He stands in the middle, looking around for only a second before edging to the door that will lead to the inner chambers. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for until he sees it, a carving of ivory lifted during one of their many exploits in the other realms (Vanaheimr, he thinks). He grabs it, tucks it into the pouch on his belt, and then as he’s leaving flips over the pillow on the bed and picks up the book he knew he’d find underneath.
On his way out of the wing Fandral runs into the others and lies when they ask if Thor was in his chambers. Well, it’s not necessarily a lie, he doesn’t actually know, but when Sif looks at him expectantly, Hogun standing just past her shoulder, Fandral lets them assume that was his reason for entering the princes’ hall.
The doors to the wing are beginning to close behind them when a familiar voice calls out from inside. As one, they turn and kneel to their queen.
“As you may have noticed,” Lady Frigga speaks regally, biding them to stand. “My son has been having some difficulty. Loki’s betrayal has been a blow to all of us, but none feels the burden more heavily than your prince. It saddens me to inform you that in addition to his past treason, there has also been a more recent betrayal that cuts even deeper.” Hogun’s gaze sharpens. “You have been loyal companions of my son for years and it is my wish that in this trying time you shall continue to watch over for him and assist him in what needs to be done.”
“Of course, my queen,” Sif agrees, the others nod with her. “This is something that we would do even if you did not ask it of us.”
“Nevertheless, it would ease my heart to hear you swear it. What hurts a child falls twice over on the mother, I weep for him.”
Hogun, Sif, and Volstagg swear their oaths and Lady Frigga rests her hand on her chest in relief. Fandral is quiet for long enough that she looks at him, which is all at once comforting and terrifying.
“And you, Fandral the Dashing?”
He chooses his words carefully, keeping his thoughts clear of Loki’s possessions still hidden on his person.
“I will do,” he speaks very quietly, “as my prince needs.”
She smiles.
Interlude 5
Chapter 13
Out of the corner of his eye he sees a splash of red, but when he turns it’s gone. And then all he sees is the ground. There is a roar of mirth somewhere to his left.
“Pay attention, Fandral.”
Head spinning, he rubs off the dirt sticking to his face and rolls over. Sif towers above him, expression a mix of amused and annoyed. Volstagg’s laughter echoes through the training grounds and he doesn’t need to hear Hogun to know the man is enjoying himself at Fandral’s expense.
“I’m not going to pull a hit just because you’re distracted.”
“Right, yes,” he groans. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Stand up,” she knocks him in the ribs with the base of her glaive. “We’re not stopping until you actually fight me.”
There is just enough time for him to stand and straighten his shoulders before he has to duck.
-
He dumps a bucket of water over his head and sits there with his eyes closed, feeling it trail down his back and neck leaving a chill in its wake. It seeps into the fabric of his shirt and clings until he finally shakes the remnants out of his hair and strips down.
When he is clean and dressed he doesn’t search the others out; they will meet again for the evening meal, so until then he walks. His feet take him to the princes’ hall. It is empty, the servants having completed their rounds in the morning (which he knows because the sweet one with lovely brown eyes chats him up every day on his path to or from the fields).
The single sound of his footsteps echoes cleanly off the embellished walls. They are the only sound he hears until he passes the familiar door of his friend’s quarters. A shuffling joins the sound of his steps and when Fandral stops it doesn’t. He stands quietly by the door for a few minutes. There is no change, always walking, walking, walking. He doesn’t knock until he hears the choked breath.
“Thor?”
The noise continues, but there is no response. No one should be here; Thor had sworn to remain with his Midgardians until Loki had been contained. He knocks again.
“Thor, my friend?”
Eventually he takes a step back because he cannot stand there forever. Torn, Fandral listens for a while longer, and then continues down the hall.
-
“Has Thor returned?”
Volstagg looks to him, in the process of ripping the meat off of a leg of boar.
“I haven’t heard anything of it, and if his quest had ended would there not be celebration and feasting?”
Sif snorts, “There is always feasting.” Hogun hums in agreement, shifting slightly out of the way when Volstagg make a dramatic gesture with the half chewed bone.
“More feasting then. But that it not the point, surely we would have known of his return. It is not a thing he would keep hidden from us.”
“Not usually, no.”
“Psh, stop brooding, it does not suit you. Just because Loki is no longer with us does not mean there is a need for another to take up his mantle.”
The others laugh. Fandral drains the rest of his glass. Then the tavern maid brings over another round of ale and he is thoroughly distracted.
-
He wanders the halls the next day, the next several days. Makes a habit of it. He sees Thor once, or at least a glimpse of him, leaving the queen’s receiving room. But he has rounded the corner and disappeared before Fandral is able to reach him.
-
They are again sitting in the fields, Fandral leaning back against the wall, hand cupping his head and laughing at himself. Sif is laughing at him too, except not out loud, next to him. The others stand close by.
“You are off your game this week, my friend.”
“Aye.”
Sif kicks him. “What is distracting you?”
“Thor is back.” They stare at him. “I saw him.”
Companionable silence reigns for a few moments. Volstagg slouches back on the fence of the practice ring.
“Perhaps he is unwell.”
“There must be a reason he has not sought us out,” Sif agrees. “When he is ready he will find us.” The others nod. Fandral picks at the dried mud stuck on his boot.
“Do you think that means Loki is back?”
Volstagg makes a thoughtful noise, but Sif grumbles in irritation until Hogun requests a match and the two move back into the open space of the ring. It appears as though the conversation is forgotten until his mountainous friend turns back to him.
“I hope he is not. It was never good for him here.”
“No,” Fandral sighs. “It really wasn’t.”
-
It is nearly a fortnight before their prince finally shows his face, but he is visibly agitated and getting worse. Acting more aggressive with everyone. Fandral almost asks after his brother, but some instinct tells him not to and so he sits, laughs where he is supposed to, and listens.
-
Fandral hesitates, pacing outside of Loki’s chambers before finally working up the courage and reaching out to the door. It opens in silence, as if the hinges have just been greased. Tension bleeds out of him when he steps inside and nothing happens immediately. Even so he should probably err on the side of caution for a few days.
The receiving room feels empty, nothing like the rooms Loki had as a youth when Fandral used to slip in to talk to the younger prince and listen to him wax poetic over every thought that crossed his mind. Brilliant, rapid thoughts.
He stands in the middle, looking around for only a second before edging to the door that will lead to the inner chambers. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for until he sees it, a carving of ivory lifted during one of their many exploits in the other realms (Vanaheimr, he thinks). He grabs it, tucks it into the pouch on his belt, and then as he’s leaving flips over the pillow on the bed and picks up the book he knew he’d find underneath.
On his way out of the wing Fandral runs into the others and lies when they ask if Thor was in his chambers. Well, it’s not necessarily a lie, he doesn’t actually know, but when Sif looks at him expectantly, Hogun standing just past her shoulder, Fandral lets them assume that was his reason for entering the princes’ hall.
The doors to the wing are beginning to close behind them when a familiar voice calls out from inside. As one, they turn and kneel to their queen.
“As you may have noticed,” Lady Frigga speaks regally, biding them to stand. “My son has been having some difficulty. Loki’s betrayal has been a blow to all of us, but none feels the burden more heavily than your prince. It saddens me to inform you that in addition to his past treason, there has also been a more recent betrayal that cuts even deeper.” Hogun’s gaze sharpens. “You have been loyal companions of my son for years and it is my wish that in this trying time you shall continue to watch over for him and assist him in what needs to be done.”
“Of course, my queen,” Sif agrees, the others nod with her. “This is something that we would do even if you did not ask it of us.”
“Nevertheless, it would ease my heart to hear you swear it. What hurts a child falls twice over on the mother, I weep for him.”
Hogun, Sif, and Volstagg swear their oaths and Lady Frigga rests her hand on her chest in relief. Fandral is quiet for long enough that she looks at him, which is all at once comforting and terrifying.
“And you, Fandral the Dashing?”
He chooses his words carefully, keeping his thoughts clear of Loki’s possessions still hidden on his person.
“I will do,” he speaks very quietly, “as my prince needs.”
She smiles.
Interlude 5