Notes: part X of the series By watchfires and thrones of crowned kings. Thorki.
It seems Midgard didn't enrich only Thor's personality *laughs* All right, maybe I overdid it? Thor is never vulgar, but since here he's very angry... poor Frigga :
And I gave Eir - Frigga's handmaid and goddess of healing - a daughter. At least Frigga can be a grandma while Thor and Loki are tarrying. Also, Eir's name means "help". Quite fitting, in this case.

First published on AO3 with the tags: Fights, Swearing, Sarcasm, Pseudo-Incest, Kings & Queens, Post Avengers Asgard, Slash, Hermaphrodites, double shot, Warning: Loki, Translation, Wordcount: 100-1.000.

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Storm

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Of lightning

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Loki is pissed off, what a surprise.

No, Loki is pissy and Thor is pissed – but for real. Because Loki may have changed as much as he wants, but still he's offended by the most idiotic of things and in certain days one cannot even talk to him (without having their heads torn off). He and his damned piques. Together, they should have overcome these chuckholes. It seems they haven't, however; what a fucking bother.

And fuck elegant turns of phrases.

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Thor clocks up iards in his mother's parlor, while Frigga holds Eir's newborn daughter and tries to reason with him. He's asked her not to let him out of the room, even at the price of tying him down: should he step in his own chamber, in the hearing hall or even in a fucking hallway and come across Loki, thunderbolts would start flying. Outside it is hailing, by now.

"What does he think I am, his lapdog?" he bursts out, turning on himself with a snap of cape. Damn ceremonial garb. "Must I beg for his good will, now? Again?"

The baby wrinkles her face and wails. Frigga's glance is heavy with disapproval.

Thor opens his arms wide, exasperated.

"Is it any fault of mine that everyone is so sensitive?" he comments.

"Thor, a bit a patience never does harm with little ones and lovers" his mother chastises him. "Think of when you'll have children. I know that Loki expects a lot from you, but it is normal. And he's going through a difficult time."

"You mean that his cunt holds more sway than his cock, right now" he says, sarcastic.

"THOR!"

The brat's shrieks reach heights undiscovered by sound wave.

"Oh, all right, all right, I get it!" Stormy, he begins his march anew. "I can't talk freely with anyone anymore, in this palace! She is colicky, Loki rides the red tide of war, and you–maybe you too, Mother?"

He knows he's crossed the line as soon as the question comes out of his mouth. Frigga's visage turns pale and sharp.

She's ten times the king he is, because everything she says, while brusquely pointing him to the door with an arm and rocking the newborn with the other, is: "Out".

Thor hesitates, pierced by guilt. "Mother–"

"Out, son. Right now you resemble your father in the least flattering sense. Go take a walk."

"I..."

"And speak with Loki, when you've calmed down. You're both adult people."

Sovereigns' mothers know how to hush sovereigns like no victorious enemy ever will. Awkward, gabbling excuses which are not free of anger yet (tell him that he's an adult, Mother), Thor leaves.

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"Damnation."

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