Welcome to my first attempt at a Thor FF. Firstly a disclaimer that I am not Scandinavian, and that I'm trying my best to get the basic mythology correct, so please forgive me if I slip up here and there. I have based this story on the recent movie, placing it after the destruction of the Bifrost, but before the Avengers are formed.

Credit for the characters goes to Marvel Comics and the ancient texts. I hope I can do them both a modicum of justice.

Please read, and please send your comments, they can only make the story, and my writing better.

Merick

"He misses her." She let her hands rest on the railing, just warmed by the sun's fading rays.

"He misses more than just that my wife." Her husband stood beside her, he had shed most of his gleaming armor, but still looked every part the king that he was.

"Can Asgard bore him that much now?" She could not hide the sadness in her voice.

"It is perhaps not Asgard so much as its confinement, physically and spiritually."

"Since the destruction of the Bifrost." She sighed. Frigga did not have to state the obvious. Though their realm was vast and offered great distractions and joys, it was also a prison, no matter how beautiful, for the young who craved adventure: a group she counted her son among. These times were even more difficult now, now that he was taking on the mantle of his father, the All-Father. Leadership came at great cost personally and though he was strong in both heart and body; and to a much greater degree recently, wisdom, it was not yet his time to take the yoke that Odin bore. Perhaps it might never be; the specter of Ragnarok ever present in her thoughts.

But there were more pressing concerns that Frigga could see as she stood by her husband on their vast balcony, overlooking the sunset tinged environs, the fragments of the rainbow bridge, and the silhouette of their son walking its lengths again.

Thor's steps were heavy and slow, there was urgency in his heart, but that was as far as it progressed. Each day there was progress to be seen, but it was painfully slow as such things could be. The Bifrost had not been built in a day, neither would it be repaired in one. But each night he would walk the newly completed span and stop at its terminus to speak to Heimdall who watched over all the realms. And each night Heimdall would turn his gaze to Midgard for his friend, and would speak to him about Jane. Every night would begin in the same way. 'She still searches for you.' And Thor's mighty heart would be rent anew. Heimdall would speak of her efforts to find a path to Asgard, and Thor would continue to be heartened by her brilliance. The conversation would end as Heimdall relayed any message that Jane might have spoken to the firmament: for sometimes she did such things. Thor could not understand how she knew that Heimdall would be watching, or how she could even know that the bridge had been shattered and that that was the reason he had not returned. Her patience had to have been borne on the connection that he himself still felt, a connection forged in the same fires as Mjolnir it seemed. It was as much a part of him as the hammer itself and its absence, or rather hers, caused the same uncomfortable ache.

This night however was different. Though Heimdall stood, as he always did, staring out over the starry abyss, sword clasped at the pommel, blade pointed to the earth from which it was forged; his words were different.

"I am glad you have come Thor." The deep monotone did not change with emotion, or surprise. Heimdall was stoic.

"Heimdall?"

"Something is amiss."

Thor felt the muscles in his arms and chest immediately tighten; his feet planted the ground more firmly, his fingers flexed, waiting for the grasp of Mjolnir.

"Tell me." He did not ask after Jane, or Midgard, but asked after the realm because it was his duty.

"I believe I have found Loki."

The words hung in the air.

"My brother?"

Loki had no difficulty concealing himself, even from Heimdall's all seeing gaze and it had been many months since he had eschewed his brother's desperate offer of help back from the brink, physically and metaphorically, and had instead chosen oblivion. Thor had never believed that he could be dead; Loki was far too clever for that. Where Loki had finally come to rest though, had been the source of many nights of speculation; alone with a tankard of ale, looking into the blackness. Thor had hoped that it had not been the devastated Jotunheim; he feared his brother would be completely lost there, drawn into a heritage that was no longer his, or that he would be held to account for what he had tried to do there. Thor always held out hope that he would return to his family.

"Where is he friend Heimdall?" Thor asked, bracing himself for the worst news.

"I believe he is in Midgard, and I believe the casket is there as well."

A multitude of possibilities ran through Thor's mind in the split second that it took for him to draw in breath. His brother was alive, and his brother might be in search of the casket and the power that it could bring him; though his motives were yet murky. His presence in Midgard could threaten those people he had sworn to the SHEILD agent to protect; Jane included.

"We must tell the All-Father."

"Indeed."

There was no question of Heimdall leaving his post, even without the gateway proper to guard, he remained steadfast in his duties. Thor went instead, in search of Odin, a true reason for urgency finally presenting itself to him.

He did not throw the doors to the throne room open in anger, but his purpose-driven motions caused a mighty crash and startled his mother, who was standing at one of the many windows, while his father occupied the throne as he often did, lost in contemplation of many things.

"Thor!" She called out, not in a scolding way, but her voice laced with concern for whatever had caused his actions.

"Forgive me Mother, Father, but I bring news from Heimdall. News of Loki."

"Loki?" The gasp betrayed her emotions. She had felt the absence of her youngest son like a fist around her heart from the day he had fled her presence, shame and grief filling his eyes. She had forgiven him the moment he had looked at her, the pain written in his face, but her entreaty had not been enough to keep him with her. Odin sprang from his chair, gathering his cloak around himself.

"Then we will go and speak with him." He said nothing further to his wife, but breezed past Thor who fell in step behind his father. The action was typical for the All-Father, though his steps seemed almost as driven as his son, as far as Thor could see. It was a small crack in the armor that Odin wore. Thor could see it, so could Frigga, but neither spoke of it, not even with each other. Odin could feel the pain, but they left him to it.

"Bring my son home." Frigga called after them both, wringing her hands together, feeling the first measure of hope she had in months, for both her sons.