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Entry tags:
- character: fandral the dashing,
- character: frigga,
- character: hogun the grim,
- character: lady sif,
- character: loki laufeyson,
- character: odin borson,
- character: thor odinson,
- character: volstagg the voluminous,
- fic series: growing pains,
- genre: action,
- genre: angst,
- genre: au,
- genre: bromance! lol,
- genre: chapter-fic,
- genre: drama,
- genre: gen,
- genre: humour,
- label: fanfic,
- label: mythology rocks it srsly,
- label: not yaoi,
- label: odin is da boss,
- pairing: none,
- rating: pg,
- series: thor (marvel movie),
- wordcount: 3500+
"Growing Pains" - Loki + Thor (AU movie!Marvelverse) - {Chapter VIII}
~
Link to this cross-posted in the comments of Round 1 @![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
norsekink.
{ .VIII. } {In Which Odin Is Once Again An A+ Father (Seriously!) and Thor Learns An Important Lesson, Maybe}
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
Loki comes to fairly quickly, pain jolting him awake as Thor peels a section of his shredded leathers away from his injuries. They’re only about halfway down the mountain, but the thick, wet smear of blood slicked down one side of Thor’s armour must’ve convinced him that Loki required immediate attention. Thor doesn’t know anything of magic, and he is no healer, but he can at least bind up wounds if necessary.
Loki’s mouth feels dry, both his head and his eyelids seem far too heavy, and it takes him a minute to remember how to make his mouth move and form the right sounds to speak.
“…Thor…”
His voice comes out a soft rasp, as if he’d been shouting or screaming, and only after considering that for another long minute does he recall what had happened: that as that turbulent rush of magic had shrieked all around them, blisteringly hot energy just inches away trying to sear its way through the shield he’d made of his own magic, fear had fled him entirely, his mouth spreading wide in a manic grin. And as he’d loosed his magic, finally giving into it fully for once, he’d thrown his head back…and laughed, howling with a wild, fierce sort of joy ‘til his throat was raw from the heat and the strain, the sound of it completely lost, swallowed up by the roar of the magic exploding all around them.
Quietly as he’d spoken, Thor hears him. For once, he’s listening.
“Loki.” There’s an endless sea of relief in that single word; it crashes over Loki and nearly seems to choke Thor, judging by the way his mouth hangs open for a silent moment before he finds his voice again. “Brother, I feared that you were…that you would not wake up.”
Loki blinks a little, slowly and blearily, certain that his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because he can’t truly be seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. For the Thor he sees before him looks frightened, pale beneath soot and scratches and splotches of black dragon’s blood, and he sounds even worse, concerned but also honestly and deeply shaken.
And all at the thought of losing Loki for good.
Odin’s words from countless long years ago suddenly echo in his ears:
…But he loves you, Loki. A brotherly bond is not one easily broken…
Loki swallows hard, wavering over the decision, but it’s hard to feel any sort of dread or apprehension right now; he’s numb from adrenaline, from shock and from blood loss, and seeing that unabashedly anxious look still lingering on his brother’s face has stripped him of any remaining hesitance.
… and the strength and depth of his devotion is such that I believe there will come a time…
“…Thor…” He has to swallow again, begin again, because that isn’t how he wants to start. Names are too impersonal, they show no bond and are freely used by all, and he and Thor are so much closer than that.
…when you will be able tell Thor of this without fear of any negative repercussions—
“…Brother.” Thor will be angry, of course, because that’s generally his reaction to unexpected things, but he won’t simply leave Loki behind to die. Not after a battle like that, not after all Loki has done on this quest alone, and how much Thor must know he owes him. “There’s…there’s something I—”
But the moment of opportunity has passed; already Thor is shaking off that fear, slipping back into his usual overconfidence and inconsiderate charisma. “We shall talk later, Brother, I swear it, but I sense that we must not linger here.” He straightens as he finishes tying off the last of the bandages. “We must have your wounds seen to, and despite your negotiations, I fear that the Dark Elves grow near.”
Loki coughs out a soft chuckle. “That is something you need not fear, Brother.” He’s having trouble moving his right arm (broken, he remembers with a grimace as another twinge of pain jolts up the limb), so it proves rather difficult to reach into the pouch on his left hip and fish out the item he’d filched from Malekith’s treasury for just this purpose. “Sometimes a bit of thievery is indispensible.”
Thor blinks at the folded item resting in Loki’s palm, but before he can ask what it is and how in the Nine Realms it’s supposed to help them, Loki explains.
“It’s a magical boat forged by the Dark Elves. A true treasure, one-of-a-kind. It can sail over land or through the air as well as by sea, and though large enough to hold a host of warriors, their horses, and all their equipment, it folds up, like so, small enough to fit in a pocket or pouch. I believe they had named it Skidbladnir.”
It’s fairly difficult to really and truly impress Thor to the point of speechlessness. Loki had seen it the first time he’d used magic in front of Thor (naught but a few simple pranks during a feast, but extraordinary in the eyes of a magic-less child nonetheless), as well as on that day not so long ago when Loki had nearly been killed on the sparring grounds, and also when Odin had first gifted Thor with possession of Mjöllnir. This doesn’t carry the same sort of weight as any of those other things, but considering Loki’s just given him a quick and easy way out of a situation that Thor was beginning to despair of escaping at all, it’s enough to merit significant admiration.
“Will you be Telling Father about this, Brother?” Loki asks with a wan smile. Thor returns the expression, though his smile is wide as ever, and full of mirth and relief. For if Loki can act like this, still thinking at least two steps ahead and speaking with the same snap and eternal dry wit as always, he must be all right.
“Of course.” He gently takes the folded boat from Loki’s hand and looks it over with wonder before turning that radiant smile back on his younger brother. “One must give credit where credit is due, and this theft was both a courageous and clever one.”
Loki instructs Thor on how to unfold Skidbladnir, which does indeed prove exceptionally roomy despite its once-compact size; that done, it doesn’t take much to convince his brother that to leave all that treasure behind for the Dark Elves would be a shame, not to mention a waste of a good quest, and since Volstagg and Hogun aren’t in critical condition, there’s nothing to stop them from taking home a tidy sum for their trouble. Thor agrees, and with the aid of Sif and Fandral, a goodly amount of treasure is soon stowed aboard. Loki leans against the bulkhead, watching as they load up and forcing himself to stay awake for a while longer, because he hasn’t forgotten the details of the deal he’d made with Malekith.
So once Skidbladnir has taken on all the treasure it can comfortably hold and moves off, sailing up through the air towards Asgard, Loki sits up a little straighter. Turning back with a slight wince, he leans over the side of the ship and whispers a spell (normally he doesn’t have to speak aloud, but right now he’s edging on total exhaustion, and saying and hearing the words helps him focus), then watches with satisfaction as a large portion of the remains of Andvari’s vault shudders and cracks. Gold and priceless jewels sparkle like snow in the sunlight as the rock beneath them crumbles and gives way, pouring them into the molten inferno that swallowed their possessor, and stone rains down as what’s left of the cave collapses. Loki leaves perhaps half of what remains of the dragon’s hoard intact, which amounts to about one-fourth of the treasure, total. It’s still a lot--a more than satisfactory weregild for the Dark Elves, he thinks with a satisfied smirk, especially since they have no way of knowing the hoard’s original size, and will most likely assume that any missing gold must have fallen into the volcano when the cave was destroyed.
And now that the final loose end has been tied off, Loki slumps against the bulkhead, letting the oncoming waves of dizzying darkness wash over him and drag him under into a welcome, pain-free oblivion.
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
They receive a hero’s welcome on their return to Asgard. The sight of Asgard’s greatest warrior and his friends returning victorious from a Grand Quest is not so uncommon, but this homecoming, on a magical ship filled with gold, jewels, and all sorts of treasure, is impressive even for Thor. People going about their everyday lives stare upwards openmouthed, then run along behind the ship, following it on foot as it heads straight for the Royal Palace.
There, the three more seriously injured members of the party are snatched up almost at once by members of the Royal Guard, who hastily carry (or in Volstagg’s case, escort and support) them to the Healing Room. Initially Thor shows a bit of reluctance at letting the still-unconscious Loki out of his sight, but the already-swelling crowd is peppering the remaining adventurers with questions, calling to hear the tale, and Thor can’t resist giving into their clamour. Soon his brother is well out of mind; he’s far too preoccupied with helping to unload—and showing off—the treasure, as well as joining in Fandral’s dramatic retelling of their adventure, which somehow ends up downplaying Loki’s role and overemphasizing all of the others. Sif’s sideways glances at the two are less than impressed, perhaps even a little disgusted, but she doesn’t contradict them, and neither Thor nor Fandral notices her silent disapproval, or her equally silent departure.
Odin’s reaction to all of this is perhaps somewhat atypical. When he learns of his sons’ return, and moreover the possibly serious condition of the younger, the King of Asgard abstains from going to meet Thor, immediately heading to the Healing Room instead. For a battle-hardened warrior like the All-father, Loki’s wounds are not truly so bad to look upon—he’s seen worse, ever so much worse, and has personally experienced worse as well. But seeing his son in such dire shape makes it harder somehow, for it is something he had hoped never to see, even if he’d always known that such a hope was one doomed from the start for a number of reasons.
Frigga is there already, tenderly wiping the worst of the dirt from Loki’s face with a damp cloth now that his wounds have been seen to. As Odin enters, she’s murmuring a gently soothing sort of motherly nothing into Loki’s ear, drawing the faintest of smiles from her younger son, the only indication that he’s conscious. Asgard’s queen looks up and over at her lord husband with an anxious sort of strain in her own smile as he crosses the room, her eyes saying it all.
He is badly hurt, but he will live.
Odin breathes a little easier at that, feeling a great deal better about several things, though there’s still a trace of sadness and not-quite-guilt; it is a costly lesson, and yet even so there are no guarantees that Thor will actually learn it. If his behaviour thus far is anything to judge by, he will miss it entirely unless it’s shoved in his face.
“Leave us. I would speak to my son alone.”
Frigga meets his eye, a subtle question on her face, then inclines her head minutely and follows the healers and servants out, drawing the ornate double-doors shut behind them.
The instant those doors swing to, Loki wearily eases his eyes open. It seems to take him a moment to focus them, but when he sees Odin sitting beside him, he’s fully alert in an instant. “Father!” he gasps, struggling to push himself up on his elbows; he doesn’t quite manage it, his face contorting as he gasps again, this time in pain, and he’s forced to lie back and stay still. “I saved him, Father,” he says, a little breathless in his eagerness to share what he sees as a triumph worthy of both pride and praise. “I protected Thor in more ways than he knows, and—Father, did I do well?” Perhaps suddenly fearful of the answer, Loki doesn’t give Odin the chance to give one, words spilling out of his mouth in a feverish rush. “I would have done it, Father. I could have. I could have sacrificed myself for him, died a hero’s death, and proven my loyalty once and for all.”
There’s a sort of desperation in his voice, a fanatic or maybe more frantic fire burning in his eyes as he looks up at Odin searchingly, clearly aching for approval, or failing that, at least a lack of reproof.
But the All-father just shakes his head in response. “No, Loki,” he says gently. Loki’s face twists with anguish before going unnaturally blank and reserved, though his lips are trembling and it’s plainly a mask that’s wavering on the edge of breaking, until Odin continues with what he was saying. “You never had to prove anything, for I have never doubted you. That aside, you are too young yet to speak of dying, be it a hero’s death or any other; and in any case, I for one am exceedingly glad that it didn’t come to that, my son.”
Finding himself named thus so easily, without the barest hint of a pause even for effect, much less due to true hesitance, is nothing new--it’s fairly common, in fact. But after all he’s been through over the past few days, it’s a much-needed reassurance, as is the way Odin is smiling down on him with what is unmistakably deep paternal love and equally-deep fatherly pride…alongside relief at the return of not one but two prodigal sons. And at that last a flood of tears wells up in the prince’s eyes, though only two slip free, sliding from the corners of Loki’s tightly-shut eyes and trickling down across his temples to disappear into his hair, cutting twin icy trails through the traces of soot still darkening his skin.
In reply, Odin’s right hand settles lightly on Loki’s head, gently brushing back his hair; his left grips Loki’s shoulder, all the fear and anxiety he’d felt at the idea of losing his younger son telegraphed clearly through those grasping fingers.
Loki draws and releases a soft, shaky breath, and though his eyes remain closed, his hand finds its way up and over to the All-father’s, closes tightly around it, and squeezes and squeezes until bones nearly creak in protest and the darkness rises to swallow him up again.
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
When Thor enters to the Healing Room nearly an hour later, Odin has moved to one of the long, thin windows at the far end of the chamber. He doesn’t acknowledge his older son’s arrival, doesn’t turn away from the view of the sun setting over the golden city, not until after Thor has come to stand at his sleeping brother’s bedside.
“What right have you to be here?” The All-father’s voice is ominously low and level, each word bitten out with a careful, purposeful ponderousness. There’s a slow-building anger there, looming like storm-clouds on the horizon: distant, but clearly visible and threatening nonetheless, promising of heavy rain.
Thor matches his hostility in tone as well as body language, fists clenching at his sides as he turns to face his father, squaring off just as he would for a fight in the training hall. “As much right as you. He is my brother.”
After a moment’s pause Odin looks ‘round at the warrior-prince, his gaze keen and considering, almost as if to say and if he were not? What then?
But Thor fails completely at catching the true meaning of that look, seeing it only as it is on the surface: a hard stare that leaves him feeling challenged, weighed, and found lacking--not a feeling that he is at all used to.
Aloud Odin says instead, “Yes, he is. And as his elder brother, you should consider his well-being more carefully.”
“I have, and I do,” Thor replies stoutly. He’s feeling rather full of himself now after hearing Fandral telling and retelling the tale of this latest quest, and he’s determined not to be placed on the defensive. “I strove to protect him as best I could on this venture, just as I always have. I did nothing differently, Father, and overall, I would consider the quest a success. We all came back alive, and with a considerable amount of treasure. You cannot fault me for Loki’s physical weakness.”
“You—presumptuous—fool.”
Thor’s ire rises at the insult, but even he is fleetingly daunted by the sight of his father stalking towards him, so he holds his tongue as the King of Asgard closes the distance between them.
“Loki--your brother--loves you dearly, and although his protests and attempts at persuasion would be mighty indeed, in the end he would follow you into Niflheim and beyond if you gave the word. He has always behaved thus.” Odin’s eye darkens dangerously, his words a reproving growl as he comes to stop a mere foot from his son. “And you know this full well.”
Thor bristles, but he doesn’t deny it. He might never plan to take advantage of something like that, but he knew it to be true nonetheless. “This was Svartalfheim, Father, not Niflheim—”
“And yet still your brother went along, and was grievously injured because of you—your pride, your recklessness, your greedy hunger for honour, glory, and adventure!”
Thor starts to speak, and is once again cut off as Odin jabs a finger at him.
“You may have told yourself that you were doing this for Loki, that this quest was for the betterment of your brother—” That accusing finger swings aside to point at the battered, lifeless-looking body of Asgard’s younger prince. “—But how can that be true when he ended up like this?”
The older prince grits his teeth in obvious, helpless fury, but he turns his face away from his brother’s unconscious form, unable to bear looking at him long. Seeing that pale, almost-too-slim form bleeding through his newly-changed bandages strikes an unpleasant chord deep within the god of thunder; it’s hard to claim that he’d been looking out for Loki when his younger brother is so badly wounded. A tendril of uncertainty, of guilt, uncurls inside him, a flicker of recall reminding him of the pang of fear and concern he’d felt on the mountain when he’d first realised just how badly Loki was bleeding, and he takes a moment to wonder. Had he really done all he could to protect Loki? Perhaps…perhaps if he had just…
But Odin isn’t done with Thor yet.
“Still, Fortune smiled on you, giving you so devoted and talented a brother. For there is no doubt in my mind that had Loki not gone, you and your friends would have been slain by the dragon, rather than the reverse. And all because you were fool enough to go looking for trouble—”
“BUT YOU LET ME GO!” Thor bursts out, anger flaring quicker than a flash of lightning.
Odin’s single eye is hard, and though it’s obvious that he is equally, if not more enraged than Thor, he holds his emotions in check and remains outwardly calm. “And what of it? You are no longer a boy! You are a man, and one day you will be king! I am your father, but I cannot make all your decisions for you. And in this instance, even had I refused to let you go, you would have gone anyway, would you not?”
Thor’s jaw clenches, but he can’t say anything to that, because all of it is true.
For a long moment, the only sound Thor can hear is the blood pounding in his ears…and Loki’s ragged breathing. And the latter, coupled with the fact that he hasn’t spoken to Loki, hasn’t seen him fully conscious since that short conversation on the ruined mountain, is what finally forces Thor to see the reality of the situation.
His father is right. What’s more, his father is right about everything. Originally Thor’s goal had truly been to help Loki, but somewhere along the way, his own desire for adventure and a good fight had eclipsed that goal, blocking out the importance of Loki’s advice and protests about the quest. Thor hadn’t really listened, simply assuming that his fighting prowess would be enough to get them out of any difficult situations they happened to find themselves in. Instead, Loki had saved them all not once, but twice—the first time via diplomacy, the second with magic, two things that Thor has little to no skill with—and neither of those problems could have been resolved in a satisfactory manner with even a thousand swings of Thor’s hammer.
He had taken his brother--all his friends, really--for granted, and had unnecessarily endangered their lives for no reason other than the fact that he’d been bored and spoiling for a fight. He hadn’t even cared to consider what sort of effect his actions could have, or what sort of consequences he might incur…consequences that would affect others, not simply himself.
He’d been brash. He’d been arrogant. And he’d been selfish--unbearably so. And it had nearly cost his brother his life…which meant it had nearly cost him his brother.
And Thor knows from the innermost depths of his warrior’s heart that there is no fight, no adventure, no treasure in all of the Nine Realms that is worth that price.
Perhaps sensing the beginnings of a drastic shift in Thor’s mentality, Odin takes pity on his eldest, his tone and expression softening a fraction, just enough for his words to sound like the advice they are meant to be rather than an outright admonishment. “A king’s duty is to do what is best for his people, which means he will avoid war if at all possible. But if war is unavoidable, then he must embrace it, for the good of those who look to him for guidance.” He starts for the doors, but as he passes by, his hand settles on Thor’s shoulder. Though Thor can’t feel the warmth or the pressure through his armour, he catches the movement in his peripheral vision, and he can feel the weight of that hand; brief as it is, the gesture is much appreciated. “Your every action should be prefaced with these thoughts: Who am I truly doing this for? Who stands to gain? Who stands to lose? And what will those gains and loses be?”
Thor remains where he is long after the sound of the doors closing and his father’s footsteps fade away, his broad, muscular frame gone as still as a statue as he gazes intently on the pallid, motionless form of the beloved brother he’d come so very close to losing. And as he stands and stares, Thor does something that would surprise Loki, were he awake to see it:
He puts aside any interest in weapons, combat, his friends, and any sort of adventure, lets his eyes fall half-closed, bows his head consideringly…and thinks. Long, hard, and slowly, but deep—deeper than the farthest-reaching roots of Yggdrasil.
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
{Chapter IX}
Link to this cross-posted in the comments of Round 1 @
norsekink.{ .VIII. } {In Which Odin Is Once Again An A+ Father (Seriously!) and Thor Learns An Important Lesson, Maybe}
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
Loki comes to fairly quickly, pain jolting him awake as Thor peels a section of his shredded leathers away from his injuries. They’re only about halfway down the mountain, but the thick, wet smear of blood slicked down one side of Thor’s armour must’ve convinced him that Loki required immediate attention. Thor doesn’t know anything of magic, and he is no healer, but he can at least bind up wounds if necessary.
Loki’s mouth feels dry, both his head and his eyelids seem far too heavy, and it takes him a minute to remember how to make his mouth move and form the right sounds to speak.
“…Thor…”
His voice comes out a soft rasp, as if he’d been shouting or screaming, and only after considering that for another long minute does he recall what had happened: that as that turbulent rush of magic had shrieked all around them, blisteringly hot energy just inches away trying to sear its way through the shield he’d made of his own magic, fear had fled him entirely, his mouth spreading wide in a manic grin. And as he’d loosed his magic, finally giving into it fully for once, he’d thrown his head back…and laughed, howling with a wild, fierce sort of joy ‘til his throat was raw from the heat and the strain, the sound of it completely lost, swallowed up by the roar of the magic exploding all around them.
Quietly as he’d spoken, Thor hears him. For once, he’s listening.
“Loki.” There’s an endless sea of relief in that single word; it crashes over Loki and nearly seems to choke Thor, judging by the way his mouth hangs open for a silent moment before he finds his voice again. “Brother, I feared that you were…that you would not wake up.”
Loki blinks a little, slowly and blearily, certain that his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because he can’t truly be seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. For the Thor he sees before him looks frightened, pale beneath soot and scratches and splotches of black dragon’s blood, and he sounds even worse, concerned but also honestly and deeply shaken.
And all at the thought of losing Loki for good.
Odin’s words from countless long years ago suddenly echo in his ears:
…But he loves you, Loki. A brotherly bond is not one easily broken…
Loki swallows hard, wavering over the decision, but it’s hard to feel any sort of dread or apprehension right now; he’s numb from adrenaline, from shock and from blood loss, and seeing that unabashedly anxious look still lingering on his brother’s face has stripped him of any remaining hesitance.
… and the strength and depth of his devotion is such that I believe there will come a time…
“…Thor…” He has to swallow again, begin again, because that isn’t how he wants to start. Names are too impersonal, they show no bond and are freely used by all, and he and Thor are so much closer than that.
…when you will be able tell Thor of this without fear of any negative repercussions—
“…Brother.” Thor will be angry, of course, because that’s generally his reaction to unexpected things, but he won’t simply leave Loki behind to die. Not after a battle like that, not after all Loki has done on this quest alone, and how much Thor must know he owes him. “There’s…there’s something I—”
But the moment of opportunity has passed; already Thor is shaking off that fear, slipping back into his usual overconfidence and inconsiderate charisma. “We shall talk later, Brother, I swear it, but I sense that we must not linger here.” He straightens as he finishes tying off the last of the bandages. “We must have your wounds seen to, and despite your negotiations, I fear that the Dark Elves grow near.”
Loki coughs out a soft chuckle. “That is something you need not fear, Brother.” He’s having trouble moving his right arm (broken, he remembers with a grimace as another twinge of pain jolts up the limb), so it proves rather difficult to reach into the pouch on his left hip and fish out the item he’d filched from Malekith’s treasury for just this purpose. “Sometimes a bit of thievery is indispensible.”
Thor blinks at the folded item resting in Loki’s palm, but before he can ask what it is and how in the Nine Realms it’s supposed to help them, Loki explains.
“It’s a magical boat forged by the Dark Elves. A true treasure, one-of-a-kind. It can sail over land or through the air as well as by sea, and though large enough to hold a host of warriors, their horses, and all their equipment, it folds up, like so, small enough to fit in a pocket or pouch. I believe they had named it Skidbladnir.”
It’s fairly difficult to really and truly impress Thor to the point of speechlessness. Loki had seen it the first time he’d used magic in front of Thor (naught but a few simple pranks during a feast, but extraordinary in the eyes of a magic-less child nonetheless), as well as on that day not so long ago when Loki had nearly been killed on the sparring grounds, and also when Odin had first gifted Thor with possession of Mjöllnir. This doesn’t carry the same sort of weight as any of those other things, but considering Loki’s just given him a quick and easy way out of a situation that Thor was beginning to despair of escaping at all, it’s enough to merit significant admiration.
“Will you be Telling Father about this, Brother?” Loki asks with a wan smile. Thor returns the expression, though his smile is wide as ever, and full of mirth and relief. For if Loki can act like this, still thinking at least two steps ahead and speaking with the same snap and eternal dry wit as always, he must be all right.
“Of course.” He gently takes the folded boat from Loki’s hand and looks it over with wonder before turning that radiant smile back on his younger brother. “One must give credit where credit is due, and this theft was both a courageous and clever one.”
Loki instructs Thor on how to unfold Skidbladnir, which does indeed prove exceptionally roomy despite its once-compact size; that done, it doesn’t take much to convince his brother that to leave all that treasure behind for the Dark Elves would be a shame, not to mention a waste of a good quest, and since Volstagg and Hogun aren’t in critical condition, there’s nothing to stop them from taking home a tidy sum for their trouble. Thor agrees, and with the aid of Sif and Fandral, a goodly amount of treasure is soon stowed aboard. Loki leans against the bulkhead, watching as they load up and forcing himself to stay awake for a while longer, because he hasn’t forgotten the details of the deal he’d made with Malekith.
So once Skidbladnir has taken on all the treasure it can comfortably hold and moves off, sailing up through the air towards Asgard, Loki sits up a little straighter. Turning back with a slight wince, he leans over the side of the ship and whispers a spell (normally he doesn’t have to speak aloud, but right now he’s edging on total exhaustion, and saying and hearing the words helps him focus), then watches with satisfaction as a large portion of the remains of Andvari’s vault shudders and cracks. Gold and priceless jewels sparkle like snow in the sunlight as the rock beneath them crumbles and gives way, pouring them into the molten inferno that swallowed their possessor, and stone rains down as what’s left of the cave collapses. Loki leaves perhaps half of what remains of the dragon’s hoard intact, which amounts to about one-fourth of the treasure, total. It’s still a lot--a more than satisfactory weregild for the Dark Elves, he thinks with a satisfied smirk, especially since they have no way of knowing the hoard’s original size, and will most likely assume that any missing gold must have fallen into the volcano when the cave was destroyed.
And now that the final loose end has been tied off, Loki slumps against the bulkhead, letting the oncoming waves of dizzying darkness wash over him and drag him under into a welcome, pain-free oblivion.
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
They receive a hero’s welcome on their return to Asgard. The sight of Asgard’s greatest warrior and his friends returning victorious from a Grand Quest is not so uncommon, but this homecoming, on a magical ship filled with gold, jewels, and all sorts of treasure, is impressive even for Thor. People going about their everyday lives stare upwards openmouthed, then run along behind the ship, following it on foot as it heads straight for the Royal Palace.
There, the three more seriously injured members of the party are snatched up almost at once by members of the Royal Guard, who hastily carry (or in Volstagg’s case, escort and support) them to the Healing Room. Initially Thor shows a bit of reluctance at letting the still-unconscious Loki out of his sight, but the already-swelling crowd is peppering the remaining adventurers with questions, calling to hear the tale, and Thor can’t resist giving into their clamour. Soon his brother is well out of mind; he’s far too preoccupied with helping to unload—and showing off—the treasure, as well as joining in Fandral’s dramatic retelling of their adventure, which somehow ends up downplaying Loki’s role and overemphasizing all of the others. Sif’s sideways glances at the two are less than impressed, perhaps even a little disgusted, but she doesn’t contradict them, and neither Thor nor Fandral notices her silent disapproval, or her equally silent departure.
Odin’s reaction to all of this is perhaps somewhat atypical. When he learns of his sons’ return, and moreover the possibly serious condition of the younger, the King of Asgard abstains from going to meet Thor, immediately heading to the Healing Room instead. For a battle-hardened warrior like the All-father, Loki’s wounds are not truly so bad to look upon—he’s seen worse, ever so much worse, and has personally experienced worse as well. But seeing his son in such dire shape makes it harder somehow, for it is something he had hoped never to see, even if he’d always known that such a hope was one doomed from the start for a number of reasons.
Frigga is there already, tenderly wiping the worst of the dirt from Loki’s face with a damp cloth now that his wounds have been seen to. As Odin enters, she’s murmuring a gently soothing sort of motherly nothing into Loki’s ear, drawing the faintest of smiles from her younger son, the only indication that he’s conscious. Asgard’s queen looks up and over at her lord husband with an anxious sort of strain in her own smile as he crosses the room, her eyes saying it all.
He is badly hurt, but he will live.
Odin breathes a little easier at that, feeling a great deal better about several things, though there’s still a trace of sadness and not-quite-guilt; it is a costly lesson, and yet even so there are no guarantees that Thor will actually learn it. If his behaviour thus far is anything to judge by, he will miss it entirely unless it’s shoved in his face.
“Leave us. I would speak to my son alone.”
Frigga meets his eye, a subtle question on her face, then inclines her head minutely and follows the healers and servants out, drawing the ornate double-doors shut behind them.
The instant those doors swing to, Loki wearily eases his eyes open. It seems to take him a moment to focus them, but when he sees Odin sitting beside him, he’s fully alert in an instant. “Father!” he gasps, struggling to push himself up on his elbows; he doesn’t quite manage it, his face contorting as he gasps again, this time in pain, and he’s forced to lie back and stay still. “I saved him, Father,” he says, a little breathless in his eagerness to share what he sees as a triumph worthy of both pride and praise. “I protected Thor in more ways than he knows, and—Father, did I do well?” Perhaps suddenly fearful of the answer, Loki doesn’t give Odin the chance to give one, words spilling out of his mouth in a feverish rush. “I would have done it, Father. I could have. I could have sacrificed myself for him, died a hero’s death, and proven my loyalty once and for all.”
There’s a sort of desperation in his voice, a fanatic or maybe more frantic fire burning in his eyes as he looks up at Odin searchingly, clearly aching for approval, or failing that, at least a lack of reproof.
But the All-father just shakes his head in response. “No, Loki,” he says gently. Loki’s face twists with anguish before going unnaturally blank and reserved, though his lips are trembling and it’s plainly a mask that’s wavering on the edge of breaking, until Odin continues with what he was saying. “You never had to prove anything, for I have never doubted you. That aside, you are too young yet to speak of dying, be it a hero’s death or any other; and in any case, I for one am exceedingly glad that it didn’t come to that, my son.”
Finding himself named thus so easily, without the barest hint of a pause even for effect, much less due to true hesitance, is nothing new--it’s fairly common, in fact. But after all he’s been through over the past few days, it’s a much-needed reassurance, as is the way Odin is smiling down on him with what is unmistakably deep paternal love and equally-deep fatherly pride…alongside relief at the return of not one but two prodigal sons. And at that last a flood of tears wells up in the prince’s eyes, though only two slip free, sliding from the corners of Loki’s tightly-shut eyes and trickling down across his temples to disappear into his hair, cutting twin icy trails through the traces of soot still darkening his skin.
In reply, Odin’s right hand settles lightly on Loki’s head, gently brushing back his hair; his left grips Loki’s shoulder, all the fear and anxiety he’d felt at the idea of losing his younger son telegraphed clearly through those grasping fingers.
Loki draws and releases a soft, shaky breath, and though his eyes remain closed, his hand finds its way up and over to the All-father’s, closes tightly around it, and squeezes and squeezes until bones nearly creak in protest and the darkness rises to swallow him up again.
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
When Thor enters to the Healing Room nearly an hour later, Odin has moved to one of the long, thin windows at the far end of the chamber. He doesn’t acknowledge his older son’s arrival, doesn’t turn away from the view of the sun setting over the golden city, not until after Thor has come to stand at his sleeping brother’s bedside.
“What right have you to be here?” The All-father’s voice is ominously low and level, each word bitten out with a careful, purposeful ponderousness. There’s a slow-building anger there, looming like storm-clouds on the horizon: distant, but clearly visible and threatening nonetheless, promising of heavy rain.
Thor matches his hostility in tone as well as body language, fists clenching at his sides as he turns to face his father, squaring off just as he would for a fight in the training hall. “As much right as you. He is my brother.”
After a moment’s pause Odin looks ‘round at the warrior-prince, his gaze keen and considering, almost as if to say and if he were not? What then?
But Thor fails completely at catching the true meaning of that look, seeing it only as it is on the surface: a hard stare that leaves him feeling challenged, weighed, and found lacking--not a feeling that he is at all used to.
Aloud Odin says instead, “Yes, he is. And as his elder brother, you should consider his well-being more carefully.”
“I have, and I do,” Thor replies stoutly. He’s feeling rather full of himself now after hearing Fandral telling and retelling the tale of this latest quest, and he’s determined not to be placed on the defensive. “I strove to protect him as best I could on this venture, just as I always have. I did nothing differently, Father, and overall, I would consider the quest a success. We all came back alive, and with a considerable amount of treasure. You cannot fault me for Loki’s physical weakness.”
“You—presumptuous—fool.”
Thor’s ire rises at the insult, but even he is fleetingly daunted by the sight of his father stalking towards him, so he holds his tongue as the King of Asgard closes the distance between them.
“Loki--your brother--loves you dearly, and although his protests and attempts at persuasion would be mighty indeed, in the end he would follow you into Niflheim and beyond if you gave the word. He has always behaved thus.” Odin’s eye darkens dangerously, his words a reproving growl as he comes to stop a mere foot from his son. “And you know this full well.”
Thor bristles, but he doesn’t deny it. He might never plan to take advantage of something like that, but he knew it to be true nonetheless. “This was Svartalfheim, Father, not Niflheim—”
“And yet still your brother went along, and was grievously injured because of you—your pride, your recklessness, your greedy hunger for honour, glory, and adventure!”
Thor starts to speak, and is once again cut off as Odin jabs a finger at him.
“You may have told yourself that you were doing this for Loki, that this quest was for the betterment of your brother—” That accusing finger swings aside to point at the battered, lifeless-looking body of Asgard’s younger prince. “—But how can that be true when he ended up like this?”
The older prince grits his teeth in obvious, helpless fury, but he turns his face away from his brother’s unconscious form, unable to bear looking at him long. Seeing that pale, almost-too-slim form bleeding through his newly-changed bandages strikes an unpleasant chord deep within the god of thunder; it’s hard to claim that he’d been looking out for Loki when his younger brother is so badly wounded. A tendril of uncertainty, of guilt, uncurls inside him, a flicker of recall reminding him of the pang of fear and concern he’d felt on the mountain when he’d first realised just how badly Loki was bleeding, and he takes a moment to wonder. Had he really done all he could to protect Loki? Perhaps…perhaps if he had just…
But Odin isn’t done with Thor yet.
“Still, Fortune smiled on you, giving you so devoted and talented a brother. For there is no doubt in my mind that had Loki not gone, you and your friends would have been slain by the dragon, rather than the reverse. And all because you were fool enough to go looking for trouble—”
“BUT YOU LET ME GO!” Thor bursts out, anger flaring quicker than a flash of lightning.
Odin’s single eye is hard, and though it’s obvious that he is equally, if not more enraged than Thor, he holds his emotions in check and remains outwardly calm. “And what of it? You are no longer a boy! You are a man, and one day you will be king! I am your father, but I cannot make all your decisions for you. And in this instance, even had I refused to let you go, you would have gone anyway, would you not?”
Thor’s jaw clenches, but he can’t say anything to that, because all of it is true.
For a long moment, the only sound Thor can hear is the blood pounding in his ears…and Loki’s ragged breathing. And the latter, coupled with the fact that he hasn’t spoken to Loki, hasn’t seen him fully conscious since that short conversation on the ruined mountain, is what finally forces Thor to see the reality of the situation.
His father is right. What’s more, his father is right about everything. Originally Thor’s goal had truly been to help Loki, but somewhere along the way, his own desire for adventure and a good fight had eclipsed that goal, blocking out the importance of Loki’s advice and protests about the quest. Thor hadn’t really listened, simply assuming that his fighting prowess would be enough to get them out of any difficult situations they happened to find themselves in. Instead, Loki had saved them all not once, but twice—the first time via diplomacy, the second with magic, two things that Thor has little to no skill with—and neither of those problems could have been resolved in a satisfactory manner with even a thousand swings of Thor’s hammer.
He had taken his brother--all his friends, really--for granted, and had unnecessarily endangered their lives for no reason other than the fact that he’d been bored and spoiling for a fight. He hadn’t even cared to consider what sort of effect his actions could have, or what sort of consequences he might incur…consequences that would affect others, not simply himself.
He’d been brash. He’d been arrogant. And he’d been selfish--unbearably so. And it had nearly cost his brother his life…which meant it had nearly cost him his brother.
And Thor knows from the innermost depths of his warrior’s heart that there is no fight, no adventure, no treasure in all of the Nine Realms that is worth that price.
Perhaps sensing the beginnings of a drastic shift in Thor’s mentality, Odin takes pity on his eldest, his tone and expression softening a fraction, just enough for his words to sound like the advice they are meant to be rather than an outright admonishment. “A king’s duty is to do what is best for his people, which means he will avoid war if at all possible. But if war is unavoidable, then he must embrace it, for the good of those who look to him for guidance.” He starts for the doors, but as he passes by, his hand settles on Thor’s shoulder. Though Thor can’t feel the warmth or the pressure through his armour, he catches the movement in his peripheral vision, and he can feel the weight of that hand; brief as it is, the gesture is much appreciated. “Your every action should be prefaced with these thoughts: Who am I truly doing this for? Who stands to gain? Who stands to lose? And what will those gains and loses be?”
Thor remains where he is long after the sound of the doors closing and his father’s footsteps fade away, his broad, muscular frame gone as still as a statue as he gazes intently on the pallid, motionless form of the beloved brother he’d come so very close to losing. And as he stands and stares, Thor does something that would surprise Loki, were he awake to see it:
He puts aside any interest in weapons, combat, his friends, and any sort of adventure, lets his eyes fall half-closed, bows his head consideringly…and thinks. Long, hard, and slowly, but deep—deeper than the farthest-reaching roots of Yggdrasil.
- ♦ ♈ ♦ -
{Chapter IX}
Random interjection is random :D;;;
Out of curiosity, what do you think could/would have started the Jotunheim-Asgard war? And why the frag would the Jotuns have been on Midgard? (and, if you're okay with it, which I totally understand if you're not, could I use those ideas, with permission and acknowledgement, if they work with my plunnie? I ask because you have such wonderful ideas, but again, if you're not okay with this, totally understandable. *goes off to be socially inept in a corner >_>;; *)
sorry for totally taking over your comments, alory_shannon
Ha ha WELL. I actually strongly suspect that Asgard started the war originally, for a couple of reasons: 1) The Asgardians are clearly the dominant people of the Nine Realms, with all the arrogance and unexamined privilege that goes with that. 2) Asgardians seem to have stronger prejudices against the Jotnar than vice versa. Certainly the Jotnar want their Casket back (not surprising, if it is indeed the lifeblood of their world!), and they seem to want revenge against Odin (which, again, is not particularly surprising), but they don't seem to have an ingrained cultural prejudice against Asgardians as such, and they certainly don't seem to have the same dehumanizing rhetoric about Asgardians that the Asgardians have about them. 3) Thor's initial attitude of "I'm Asgardian so I can just waltz in here and do whatever I want, respect for other peoples' sovereignty be damned" seems like it would be a very common one in Asgard. Thor's going off to fight the Frost Giants and it's seen as going on an adventure. Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three are initially leery of the idea, but only because it's risky and dangerous, not because it's, oh, maybe problematic to go barging into another people's country and pick fights with them for the lulz. (Even if you did catch some of their people trying to steal something from your realm. Something that, you know, actually belongs to them anyway, and that seems to be a priceless cultural artifact, and perhaps more. So. Not really the same as starting a deadly battle for kicks, at all.)
Anyway, not to put too fine a point on it, but I basically see Asgard as the dominant realm which has more or less colonized all the others. (You see this with Midgard at the beginning of the film, with the implication that the Norse cultures were actually based on Asgardian culture - i.e., Asgard basically colonized Midgard and installed their own culture.) Jotunheim, I strongly suspect, was the last hold-out realm, and still the realm that tends to be most rebellious. I also think it's much more likely that the battle between Asgard and Jotunheim just spilled over onto Midgard than it is that the Jotnar were attacking Midgard for the lulz. (As a side note, the Jotnar don't seem to have a way of getting to Asgard without Loki's secret routes. Possibly Midgard is the only other realm they could get to?) However, that probably pretty quickly turned into attacking the humans of Midgard because they were allied with Asgard and clearly buying into Asgardian culture.
Also, I am totally okay with you using any of these ideas! I would love to see some fic about some of these things, and I know myself well enough to realize I will probably never get around to writing it. ;) Plus I just would really like to read someone else's take. Send me a link if you do end up writing something?
Re: sorry for totally taking over your comments, alory_shannon
Re: sorry for totally taking over your comments, alory_shannon
All the Jotun know is that someone in the house of Odin(does that even mean only people related to Odin? Or is it more, the court/clan/people of Odin?) Because later Laufey as much as said he didn't know it was Loki at the beginning("So you're the one").
My bet is on either court intrigue, or, er... well. Frigga.[/sidetrack]
That... seems likely. Maybe Midgard is closer, or a strategically located or something *ponders this* Or very much out in the back of beyond, and so a good first incursion. Will think on this further! :D Thank you! (will definitely credit and link ^__^)
Re: sorry for totally taking over your comments, alory_shannon
Frigga as a traitor would be....really interesting. Frigga + Loki in court intrigue against Odin = do want!