A Study in Joint Kingship
Or, Why Thor and Loki Should Share the Throne of Asgard (Marriage Optional, but Highly Recommended)
A/N: Or, my pathetic excuse for a new post, because I use short little writing exercises and character studies as a substitute for actual narratives when I'm stressed, depressed, messed up on sleep, and overall unsatisfied with life.
Nevertheless, I do think this is a valid answer to the central conflict in the first Thor film. (Provided they work out their differences first, or else this could all end very very badly.) Review if you like; I do sincerely appreciate it, no matter how otherwise-bitchy a mood I'm in with the rest of my life situation. Thanks for reading :)
Hlidskjalf had once been a single chair, golden with wide-set arms, set high on a dais at the head of the throne room. It had been the sole consolidation of power in Asgard, the greatest seat in the nine realms.
It still was the highest seat in the realms, but no longer was it the sole power.
Now, Hlidskjalf was two thrones.
Side by side they sat in the hallowed hall, equal in every measure. And though their masters were dissimilar in every way, their complementing strengths gave them a combined power unparalleled by any who came before them.
Broad, shining, and steadfast sat the King Thunderer, scarlet cloak and silver battle armor burning as bright as his blue eyes and golden hair. Loud was his voice, proud was his heart, and true was his word. His grace bestowed blessings and justice when he was merry, but if one provoked his ire, nothing could smother the fires of his wrath. Always at his side lay his warhammer, the mighty Mjolnir, which vanquished all foes, summoned the storms at will, and answered only to the hand of its master.
Pale, shifting, and calculating sat the King Silvertongue, slender limbs clad in golden armor, leather black as his raven hair, and a cloak green as his emerald eyes. Soft and sly were his words, spoken with an ease that concealed the care with which they were chosen. Never were his favors given without a glint of malice in his eyes, but neither were his threats uttered without the surest calculations behind them. All was measured to his liking in the sorcerer king's court, whether for the gain of the kingdom or for his own amusement. And ever beside his throne leaned Sinnendring, his golden staff set with a single Norn Stone at its bladed head, a weapon whose power all knew to fear.
There upon Hlidskjalf sat the Thunderer, tall and firm, and the Silvertongue, languid and coiled. Guest after guest they allowed into their court, hearing entreaties and requests for power, bargains, and favors. Sometimes they took turns, the Thunderer giving his word while the Silvertongue sat idle, appearing almost bored as he trailed his fingers across Sinnendring's glimmering jewel; or the Silvertongue would question and needle, while the Thunderer sat in resolute silence, a pillar of strength held back in reserve. Other times they would both speak, issuing forth both truth and guile, promise and threat, sending away the supplicants with both their wish granted and their spirits cowed to complete loyalty to the sovereigns.
The Thunderer was fair and quick to forgive, for which both subjects and diplomats gave the throne their trust. The Silvertongue was cunning and slow to forget, which commanded the respect and obedience from all who dared to approach the throne. Both kept Asgard's allies happy, while the Silvertongue's machinations and the Thunderer's warhammer kept her enemies in line.
As such, the Thunderer's wisdom and the Silvertongue's wit brought Asgard to flourish and prosper like never before. With the rule of just one, the realm surely would have crumbled under false friendships or unexpected enemies. But with the pair of brother-kings upon the two thrones of Hlidskjalf, they were an unbeatable team, and a force to be reckoned with.