[Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Characters: Loki, Thor, Odin, Sif
Author's note: This is a fan-work, meant for enjoyment only, and not for any material profit.]
It is late morning. If All-Father is displeased, at being brought from his council chambers, it does not show on his face. He has always been foolishly over-generous with this, his son and heir.
"See what she has done, Father?" Thor's voice is angry. The petulant tone of a child who has always gotten his way. In contrast, the woman beside him is silent. She does not look like she wants to be here. Thor hustles her forward, he gestures toward her head.
The Lady Sif's head shines golden, hair cut close, like that of a convict's. Knowing Sif, she might be happier like this. Since childhood, she has always been donning boys' clothes, to go adventuring with Thor and his friends. Perhaps she found her womanish blonde hair troublesome.
Thor's voice, still angry: "You know she did it, Father."
"I know nothing of the kind." Odin prevaricates, for, in truth, his son is right. Since her arrival at Hlidskjalf, Loki has unfortunately made her name, with secretive acts of petty mischief. Odin sighs. He looks at Sif. "Is there evidence that it was Loki?"
Thor opens his mouth to interrupt. His father raises a hand to stop him. He continues to look at the maiden. "Well?"
"None," she says.
"Is there ever?" Thor's words burst out. "Loki is devious. But I know her, I see the look, that is always in her eyes when she sees the Lady Sif."
It was jealousy, as it has been since Loki and Thor were married. Loki probably saw the look that comes into Thor's eyes when he sees the Lady Sif, and she was angered. This has happened with other women, too many times before.
Odin takes a breath. "May I remind you, son…" He stops. Thor is of an age to be king now. He should not have to be reminded of anything. But, this is his heir. In a few more years, he must leave the land he has governed, this many years, in his hands, the land he loves more than he loves his own life. "Thor, your wife has certain rights…" Stopping again, he gestures to Sif. "Go speak to my wife. She will help with your problem."
His beloved wife, Frigga: Daughter of the mystical realm of Vanaheim. Her magic is learned, not innate, as is Loki's. It is sufficient, however, to give Sif an illusion, at least, of the golden tresses she once wore, until they have grown back in truth.
Odin waits until the sound of a latch marks Sif's departure. Then, turning back to Thor, he speaks. "You must honor your marriage vows, son."
Thor is sulky now. He mutters into his chest, "This is no marriage."
"Speak up."
Raising his voice, "Laufey gave her to me to cement an alliance that is no alliance." Thor's voice grows louder, as he throws statement after statement at his father. "There are skirmishes every day on the border with Jotunheimr. Are you telling me Laufey knows nothing of them? And if Loki is my proper wife, she should bear me a child. Where is that child, Father? I must have an heir."
Loki is fertile. This, the Aesir know, by an unfortunate means. There was an incident right after she arrived at Hlidskjalf: A giant would have carried off the Lady Freya, to be his wife, had Loki not assumed the form of a mare, and lured his horse away to copulate. That there was issue from that match, proves she can bear children. That she was willing to do it, proves her loyalty to Asgard. Nonetheless, it was undignified; Odin has watched as his son's behavior to his wife changed, after it happened.
"Perhaps if you spent more time with her?" The mildest of reproaches, when Thor's dalliances grow more and more.
It is met, of course, with more anger. "Should I, Father?" Thor demands. "Why? This is a false marriage, cementing a false alliance. I would have done with lies."
It is a marriage that could cement an alliance that is fragile, but growing stronger by the day. Thor should know this. He too has access to the reports that show that Laufey punishes all Jotnar who dare make sorties across the border. After many years of war between the two realms, the King of the Jotnar is understandably suspicious, but his trust grows by the day. With care, this could become a lasting peace, a good gift for future generations, on both sides of the border.
Why can't he get these things across to his son? There is a fear, that is always at the back of Odin's mind: Thor is too young to remember what it was like, when Asgard and Jotunheim were at war. He never had to do battle in that freezing waste. Odin remembers the pain of frozen armor, against his body. Worse than that, he remembers Asgardian foot-soldiers, cut down by the foe, falling into puddles of mud, mixed with blood and ice, to die there. He hears again the screams of wounded horses, and the moans of dying men.
This is why peace is so important: No man should have to look forward to a fate like that. And yet this young hothead of a son speaks of war so casually.
Odin's fingers tighten on the armrest of his throne, knuckles whitening with tension. "You will return to your wife, Thor." His voice is soft.
"And if I won't?"
Cutting his son off, he continues. "Am I not your sovereign Lord? You will. And you will give her your honor, your attention, and your intimacy." Thor's stubborn face frustrates his father more and more. Now he is the one growing angry. "You say she gives you no heir? How can she, when you are constantly off, dallying, with other women? I say you will return to her, and you will treat her as your wife should be treated. Our alliance with Jotunheim may be fragile, but it is important. I worked too hard for it, to allow it to be thrown aside on the whim of a spoiled child."
All-Father's tantrum was but one of many. He has it in his head that Asgard and Jotunheim can be allies, as if man and giant can ever life side-by-side as friends. He has it in his head that Loki, the shapeshifter who is both son and daughter to the King of Jotunheim, can settle down to be the wife of a mere man.
Thor climbs the stairs alone. It is his father's order, and he must obey it. He must reconcile with his estranged wife.
Above the ground floor, the music starts. A complex tune, flawlessly executed: It is Loki, of course, playing the virginal that Thor's mother caused to be purchased for her, one of so many attempts to calm her restlessness. She enjoyed the gift, taking to it as she does to all the diversions that are given her, practicing it, mastering it with ease, and still remaining restless, as before. There is something in a giant's heart that cannot be satisfied, Thor has learned, no matter how much is given.
Reaching his wife's chambers, on the first floor, Thor pauses. He touches the door. He should knock, he knows. It would be polite, since the music has no doubt covered sound of his approach. At the thought, anger fills him, though. A man should not have to beg entrance from his own wife.
Pushing the door open, Thor enters. Just for a moment, he sees Loki as she was before his arrival: In casual dress, her bodice loosened, only her white linen shift underneath, sleeves rolled to the elbow, to allow her hands free motion. Ivory fingers raised high, above keys only slightly paler, her head bent, the gold mesh that constrains her dark hair glinting, in the light from an open window. Then, becoming aware of his presence, Loki jumps up. Her hand goes to her throat in a gesture of nervousness, but is it feigned, or real?
"Husband." For the briefest moment, her voice is breathless. Then her movements still, and she is again the controlled Princess Loki. She gives him a cool smile. "To what do I owe this unexpected honor?"
If he ever knew her true nature… If he ever could know… What is this woman that he has married, is she the lady wife she appears in public, or the turbulent giantess, and creature of disorder, who has caused so much mischief since arriving in Asgard? Is she… Could she be? ...Just once or twice, for a few brief moments, when she had first arrived, Loki appeared to be something else entirely, a comrade, with whom Thor could relax, as he does with friends from childhood, and a lover, whose embraces were tender, and felt sincere.
Sometimes thoughts of that Loki come back to him. They make him brusquer, and more irritable, with the one he sees now. "Do I need a reason to visit my wife?" Regrettably, his words come out clipped.
"Some husbands would." For her own part, Loki has an edge to her voice. "Some would not. So much depends on context, does it not?"
As controlled as if this were a court event, Loki moves from her instrument, to take a seat on the chaise near the window. She gestures toward the place next to her. "For you, if you wish it."
Thor does not. Loki is not above causing pain in small, childish ways, pins, finding the place between vest and breeches to draw blood, and the like. Not wishing to return to All-Father unsuccessful, however, he takes the seat.
Loki's face is inscrutable. "How, pray, does the Lady Sif do, this morning?"
Thinking about the shock, when first he viewed her shorn head, Thor represses a frown. How should he deal with this? What would Father, who is so eager for him to embrace this treacherous wife, have him to do? Choosing dishonesty for his response, "She is well," he says.
"I'm sure she is." Loki's voice is amused. "And Mistress Foster? How fares she?"
Mrs. Jane Foster was a lady of Loki's bedchamber. She was intelligent, a good companion. She was Aesir, despite having spent some years in the colonies, and she thought like an Asgardian, and behaved like one. There was never anything between her and Thor, though, for all Loki thought there was, and the child that swelled her belly, some months after she started serving Loki was that of her eventual husband. Try explaining this to an angry giantess, however. Try explaining anything to one.
"Mistress Foster is quite well, I am sure." Thor stops. Another attempt: "May I speak honestly, Wife?" he says.
Loki's face resumes its blank mask. "Had you not been, until now?"
"I spoke to my father today."
"All-Father." Loki's smile appears almost genuine. "Our beloved King. I pray his good health."
"He had words to say about you, Wife."
The mask slipping, Loki appears to tense. "Yes?" Is this finally truth, or only another pretense?
"I would end this estrangement between us."
Now Loki appears fully honest. "You would end it because All-Father tells you to, Thor. No doubt he threatened your chance at the throne. Be realistic, you will get the throne regardless, there are no other heirs. Go back and play with your mistresses. Plow Jane Foster in her husband's bed, or wherever you two like to do it, or why not go hunting with Sif, as the two of you do so often?"
"Loki!" There are lies in what she says, truth, mixed with lies. As always, Thor feels powerless to distinguish between the two. How to speak of truth to a giantess? How to get close, to someone who holds you away so resolutely?
And his wife looks at him, her smile cynical. "Yes, Husband?"
"I need an heir."
"You will get one in due time," she says.
Thor feels a sudden, brief flood of anger. If she tries to foist some giant's byblow off on him… Pushing his emotions back, he makes his tone gentle. "How will we, Loki, when we spend so little time together?"
The response he gets is brief: "There will be no heir then, I suppose."
Looking around his wife's room, Thor understands some of what lies behind the quick response. He and his wife have very different interests. Books pile the tables in here, and crowd a bookshelf set, recessed, away from the window's light, that would fade leather bindings. Sheafs of music are stacked elsewhere, magical implements crowd into what little space is left. Loki lives as all ladies do, in Frigga's court, a life in which scholarship, and magical mastery are as important as protocol.
It occurs to him, suddenly, that this does not have to be so. Loki has, still, the shape-shifting powers that are part of her giantish heritage. He thinks about the possibility that, perhaps, a Prince Loki might have been his friend.
"We married too quickly after meeting, Wife." Thor speaks slowly, trying to sort out the ideas that are coming to him.
Loki, for her part, merely gives a cynical laugh. "Water under the bridge at this point, surely?"
But, having conceived the idea, Thor must now give voice to it. "No, I believe it is not. I married too quickly, and I expected too much of you. You are not an Asgardian woman, and should not have to live as one. You must live…" No one has ever pretended that Thor was an eloquent man. Now he turns, taking his wife's hands in both his, trying to show the sincerity and the good will that he cannot properly put into words. "I would give you a chance to express your giantish nature," he says, "to be more than a mere woman, living the narrow life at court."
"You would give me the chance to mother more foals?" At least now, the edge in Loki's voice sounds genuine. "To embarrass you in front of your friends?"
"I was wrong to be embarrassed before." This, at least is true. The next of what Thor says is not; he hopes against hope that Loki will believe it, though. "If it happens again, I will give you understanding. For now, though, I was speaking of another shape."
Loki's eyes say that she knows exactly where truth ended and untruth began, in her husbands words. She does not mention it, however, but merely asks, "Another shape?"
"The shape of a man." This was the idea that was in Thor's mind. "Of a friend," he says, "a companion."
"Someone to drink with you and your friends, nights, in the tavern?" Loki's voice is neutral, at first. Gradually, amusement warms it. "To hunt bilgesnapes with you, at dawn?"
Seated next to Thor, suddenly, is his friend Fandral. But in truth, it is his wife, who has assumed his shape. "Is this what you had in mind, Thor?" Loki asks, "or this?" The chaise groans, as Volstagg's weight presses upon it, where Fandral had been a moment before. "I am hungry," says Loki. "By Odin's beard, it has been at least five minutes since I ate! ...Or perhaps you meant this shape." Just for a moment, she is Sif. A malicious Sif, her cropped hair even shorter than in reality, and her behavior all the more mannish.
Keeping his patience through these giantish antics, Thor suggests, "I meant your own shape. How did you appear when you were in Jotunheim?"
The figure that is next to him now is that of a young man. Dark hair, and a pale, composed face, not so very different from that Loki wears as a woman. It is different enough, though. None will take this quiet youth, with his modest, black-and-green clothing, for the Princess. Thor and Loki will have the freedom they haven't had before, to get to know each other properly, and, hopefully, a bond will grow between them.
Thor smiles at his new comrade. "That will do nicely."