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Chapter two: His Day in Court

Mornings, for the young prince of Asgard, were something that bordered on the sacred. No matter how late he slept the night before, he would always be up by eight, dressed and ready for his daily training routine. Thor had always been a very active person, and had been trained since a young age to the art of war. His companion of choice, the hammer, was but one of the many weapons he had learned to use on the field of battle.

Today was no exception and, punctual as a clock, he was out in the palace's court at nine, destroying practice targets with the rage of Berseker. Thor had woken up angry, still bitter from the day before, had changed and washed his face in front of his room's large mirror, giving once in a while anxious looks at the closed door of what should have been his bedroom. He knew that the root of his problems couldn't have disapeared overnight, and the unnevitable nature of his situation was slowly starting to sink in. The truth was that Thor didn't really wish for peace like Father did, not if it meant lowering his honor and the honor of his kingdom to marry a Jotun. He still didn't fully understand why Father had chosen to leave to Laufey his crown and his kingdom in exchange for vows of allegiance and the best of his sons. It was foolish to believe the words of the ice king and cowardly to seek peace with him. However, the words of the All Father were not meant to be contested, and Thor could but bend to the will of the sovereign of Asgard.

His head full of unanswered question and resentment, he had made his way to the training grounds, only clad with a soft, light tunic, and set himself to perfect his archery, aiming at the court's fabric target. He had never been very good at it, but could shoot pretty decently, although he had always prefered close combat to any other form of fighting.

Sif joined him a short while after he had started, gave him a look that mixed amusement and concern. While she was aware of Thor's situation and had heard of the Jotun's arrival the same day, she didn't ask any questions, simply taking her own bow and placing herself in position, her posture as impeccable as always and her eyes focussed as she hit the center of the target. Thor turned to her, somehow happy to have company and someone to talk to. He smiled softly, lowering his own weapon.

"It's too early in the morning to compete with you."

She gave him a knowing look.

"It's too early in the morning to be as bad as you are at archery. Don't you have officials to meet today ?"

Thor shrugged, his expression darkening. He looked at the sun, made an annoyed face. Noon was still an hour away, but he needed to get himself and the Jotun prince ready.

"I should get going. Tell the others I'll meet them after I'm done getting stared at by the whole of Asgard for being bethroted to a Jotun."

Sif didn't answer, her expression as she turned back to the target undecipherable. It showed neither anger or sympathy, but this strange, melancholic compassion, as if she comprehended how it felt to be treated like a trade agreement without being able to relate with his feelings.

He made his way back to his rooms, ignoring the curious looks the inhabitants of the palace. Gossip did indeed travel fast between the walls of Valhalla, and there was but a few things that made him any more annoyed than the anonymous whispers of the court. In a few minutes, he was back in his antechambers, knocking on the door of his bedroom and, recieving no answer, opening the door in a harsh, sudden movement.

When Loki woke up, half asleep, he could almost swear he was home in Jotunhiem, waking for his lessons. In fact, it was still dark out when he woke, just like it was for his lessons. But then, everything just came swimming back to his mind, and he had to bite down on his finger to keep back the strangled sound that threatened to grace his presence.

Mornings for Loki had meant long lessons with the ambassador for Asgard, learning the ways of the people and the courts. For once, the Jotun boy found himself able to go back to sleep. He slept until he heard the door slamming, signaling Thor taking his leave. He stood slowly from where he had curled, smoothing out the bed where he had wrinkled the bed clothes and blankets, the pillows being righted. There was little to no way he could continue any of his morning routines, but damned well would try.

He carefully found a clear area of floor, moving to do his simple stretches, carefully avoiding the prince's things. Next was to wash, which, he found the basin quite easily. The pitcher of water being carefully poured in and a rag found, Loki scrubbed at his face and neck, cleaning himself the best he could, as if he could simply scrub away the pale skin that now covered his body. When he glanced into the polished mirror, however, it was still as pale as the moonlight over snow, if a bit red from his vigorous scrubbing.

It was with a sigh he finally dressed in the red tunic and black trousers he laid out, shoving his things back into his bag.

Who knew how long it would be before Thor returned, or the Allfather came to collect him. He was definitely not prepared to go out and face the realm that hated him so. Instead, he grabbed up his things and retreated to the antechambers, leaving the Prince's room exactly as he had found it.
He finally settled himself into one of the more hidden chairs, a book in his lap, a finger on his delicate pink lower lip, moving idly back and forth as he studied the contents, his green eyes twitching across each word as he mentally translated the elvish into Asgardian, then further into the language of Jotunhiem. It was a truly fascinating book on Elvish history and culture, how they lived, the societies that they built.

He was unaware of how quickly time passed and was soon brought back to the present when Thor stomped into the room. In fear, he froze, listening as Thor pounded on the door to his bedroom, before throwing those doors open. He watched as the Asgardian stared into the empty room for a mere moment before he cleared his throat.

"I touched nothing but the bed and basin. I would be happy to sleep here tonight, so you may have your own bed," He offered gently, his eyes turning back to the book in his hands.

Tho shrugged off the proposition with a large move of the shoulders, not actually answering. He didn't even want to think about how they were going to manage how they'd live together.

Taking a few step forward, Thor gave a suspicious look at the room, the bed strangely unwrinkled and nothing but the Jotun's large spear against it. He wondered for a moment if the boy had slept on the floor or made the bed right after rising. He was too quiet, and it felt weird, how incredibly different he was of the frost giants of his ancestor's tales, a book in his hands, as he had been interrupted in his reading. He could have passed as an Asgardian, looking like this, or maybe more like a Vanir, with his delicate features and obvious taste for knowledge. He knew that the Jotun was a sorcerer, of what talent he knew not, and that the mastery of the art of magic necessitated countless hours of study and practice. He had yet to learn what kind of magic he practiced, as he knew but little of the one practiced by the Jotuns, save their frightful use of the Casket of Ancient Winters.

Thor walked up to him, looked at him for a moment, a questioning look on his face. He was himself a taller than the boy, who looked up to him with green, piercing eyes. It felt weird, somehow, to have to interact with him, to make him look as good as he could in front of the court because that was what Father had wanted and ordered. He tried not to wince at the thought that he would eventually have to be more than civil to him, tried to focus on the present and the task he had to accomplish for today.

"We'll meet the court of Valhalla. Try not to make too bad of an impression, Jotun. And answer the door when I knock."

On these words, he turned went to his drawers, getting himself his ceremonial garnments. They sort of pleased him, although he had always preferred the feeling of the light fabric he wore for training or the heavy, important weight of a battle armor. Mother had had them made for him on his fifteenth year, but he had grown since then, and the seams of the shoulders were getting a bit tight on his body. The caress of the soft fabric on his fingertips made him close his eyes. He undressed, slid into them without a word, facing the wall, and turned to Jotun once he was done.

"Aren't you going to change ?"

Loki listened for a moment while Thor examined the room, turning back to his book and attempting to concentrate on the elvish language. It was difficult, to say the least, his heart thudding at the Asgardian's presence. Perhaps it was because he knew of the Prince's hate for him and his kind, or simply the tension of the arranged marriage. Either way, he found himself rereading the same sentence over and over until Thor came and stood beside him.

He looked up at the young Prince, meeting that confused, questioning look with a similar look of his own. He couldn't read Thor's expression, not yet, but after the time they spend forced together, he should be able to.

"It matters not wether I make a good or bad impression. A good one will do nothing, a bad one will simply assure them I am a monster. Either way, I will be hated." Loki was admittedly hurt by the fact and it came through in his voice. But there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing he could do to help or prevent it.

He placed a woven book mark in the thick tome, setting it down by the window and looking as the prince walked away. "I've been in the antechambers since early morn when you left, I did answer, but you knocked on the wrong door." He had gotten out of the room as quickly as possible. As the prince dressed, Loki moved to fetch his staff, carefully not looking at Thor as he moved to his bag to see what he had. Ignoring the question, idiotic as it was, he pulled out his favorite silk robes, green with gold trim, silver lining the underside of his cape.
He dressed carefully, noting the difference from the skin he had been born with. There was a mole or two, but other than that it was one toned, rather even, except for one scar on his shoulder where he had been speared by an icicle as a child. The tissue and skin there was paler, if possible, and raised slightly.
He pulled on his silk garments and carefully pulled his hair back, braiding it as he had yesterday. The last thing he did was grab his staff and turn towards Thor, giving a little bow of his head. "Lead the way." He murmured, of course, not knowing where anything would be in this blasted place.

There was resignation in the Jotun's voice, in the soft sounds of his footsteps and the corner of his green irises. It made Thor mad, in a way, as, through the company of the ice prince, he felt that same heavy weariness take over his body, extinguishing whatever he had left of a fight in him. They couldn't do anything against it, no matter how much they wished they could, but it didn't mean Thor had any intention of giving up just yet, or at least he had thought so. The Jotun could simply accept his fate, but the prince of Asgard had no intention of stepping over his own honor without at least trying to put an end to this disgraceful union.

Without much of a word, he led them out to the throne room, where they were to be presented to the court and various embassadors from different allied kingdoms. The ceremonials of the court of Asgard had always been impressively complicated, at least to Thor, who respected them whilst he couldn't help but to question their relevance. One of his tutor in etiquette had explained to him that it showed the refinement and power of Asgard, but Thor had loudly disagreed, arguing that the Asgard wasn't Vanaheim and that it had always been through the tips of their swords that the Asgardians had proved their might, and not the womanly delicacy of their ways. He, nonetheless, stopped a few hundred meters before the entered the hall, giving the Jotun a small speech as how to act in the presence of the court, "Follow me and do exactly as I do. Only answer if talked to. There might be foreign dignitaries present who prefer and are allowed to speak in their mother tongue. Even if you do understand their dialect, ask for a translator and answer only in Asgardian. And one last thing; do not accept any gift presented to you today."

One these words, he reluctantly took the Jotun's delicate hand in his own, dragging him to the throne room under the bright light that made Valhalla shine at noon. They passed the large gates under the eyes judging eyes of the courteasans and members of the government that had come early to today's audience session only to discover the face of the prince's soon-to-be consort. Thor wasn't a child anymore, nor was he of age yet to receive an actual seat in Valhalla. Ignoring the badly hushed sounds of palace gossip, he placed himself next to Father's empty seat, trying to look dignified as the world querelled about the King's madness and the unworldly alliance he had crafted for Jotunheim and Asgard.

Thor may be able to try fighting this fate, but what was Loki to do? He was in a kingdom that hated him, far away from his home and too afraid to go out of the chambers alone. Who knew what the Asgardians may do? In the tales and even the stories his tutor told him, the people were vile, viscious, not caring what they hacked apart with their swords as long as it brought them glory. If he stepped out without the presence of Thor or the Allfather he may just be used for sparring and archery practice. How was he to fight it? This had been planned before his birth, he was raised to know this was the only option for him. He had tried fighting, every season of his life he had faught it, but now there was no use. He was in Asgard, and no one could save him from the fate that lies ahead.
He followed Thor with out question, walking silently and following Thor like a living shadow. At least the Allfather would be there. He liked the old king, he wasn't sure why. Perhaps he knew he was safest with Allfather. The man had never gone back on his word to Laufey, and Loki knew he would do all in his power to keep him safe.

He nearly flinched at Thor's harsh tone to him as they stopped, meeting the Prince's eyes firmly, the greens of them flashing irritably. How he wanted to say no, to disregaurd the prince's words and raise holy hell. He did not like being ordered around, and the prince would learn that soon enough. Against his will he nodded and bowed his head meakly, his hand simply resting in Thor's, not grasping or winding, just sitting limply. He was glad his head was bowed down and his eyes were lowered, because as they entered, talk of event silenced and he could feel the weight of the Court's stares. it was suffocating, and if it had not been for Thor, he likely wouldn't have moved from that spot, in fear for his life.
He sat beside the prince without a word, staying silent as several more members joined the seats around them, and then, finally, the Allfather stepped in. All was silent as the man and his wife strode into the court room, though the steps paused right in front of Thor and Loki. Glancing up hesitantly, he saw that Odin's wife and urged her husband to stop and was examining him with the first pair of kind eyes the Jotun had seen since arriving at Asgard.

"What is your name, dearest?" She murmured softly, smiling encouragingly at him. Though she likely knew already, it would have been rude not to answer. He cleared his throat once before whispering just loud enough to be heard. "L-Loki Laufson, my lady."

The woman smiled a little wider and reached out her free hand smoothing over a wrinkle or two in his shoulders. "I hear you are quite the schollar, Loki, and you are welcome in my library any time you wish. Infact, you are quite welcome to explore Valhalla. Anyone who dares remark or harm you, may answer to me." Ignoring the clearing of her husband's throat, showing his light disaproval, Frigga smiled again at Loki.

"Th-thank you," The boy managed before the King and Queen of Asgard took their seats, leaving him a little embarrassed, but far less worried. He had gained the approval of the queen, enough that she had welcomed him, and allowed him to make use of her library. Perhaps this was a good sign?

Thor eyed, for a moment, Father, who sat at the head of the hall, his expression unreadable. Mother took place next to him, as radiant as ever, her dress floating around her. He knew she had always ardently wished for peace between the kingdoms, being herself a foreigner in Asgard. His own complaints had found in her a deaf ear, and she had simply caressed his hair and whispered that, in time, he would understand. Thor tried not to sigh, hiding his shame with a dignified face.

As soon as the Allfather sat, the crowd that had watched them enter the throne room seemed to instantly gather in an ordained manner, presenting their regards to the king and the newfound alliance with Jotunheim, their tongue heavy with flattery and lies. Thor tried not sniff in disgust, as they gave the Jotun and himself looks that mixed thinly-veiled disgust and morbid curiosity. He wasn't particularly found of him, but it hurt his pride to just stand here and let the world gaze at his bethroted with unaldultered hate. He searched, in the crowd, for the familiar faces of Sif, Fandrall, Vollstag and Hogun, but his companions had either recieved his message to Sif or understood in that silent, knowing manner that he didn't wish them to be here.

First spoke the envoys of the biggest noble families of the realm, proudly displaying the sigil of their houses, talking in that elaborate speech proper to native Aesir gentlemen. They offered no presents to the Allfather, only wishing Thor their best wishes for the wedding, not even looking at the boy who stood meekly beside him. Then came the embassadors from the foreign regions of the empire, the small, laughing form of two black elves from Svartalfaheim, bringing with them their impressive metalwork, scratching their beards as they presented it to Thor. He looked at the pair of helmets with an approving smile, politely refused it with dismissiong move of the head. They closed their casket with a scoff, letting the messengers from Vanaheim take their place.

The relationship Asgard had with the Vanir was a complicated one. Unlike the other states federated to the realm, Vanaheim had never truly been conquered by the Asgardians, choosing instead to sign a compromise after the heavy losses they had recieved during the last years of the Aesir-Vanir War. It was said that some still held a grudge for the treaty that had made them reluctant allies to their ancient enemies, but the marriage policies of the Vanir royal line had, for generations, ensured a relative independency for the kingdom and a rich, powerful economy that made the pride of the ancient, erudite race of the West. Numerous Vanir actually lived in Asgard, had brought with them strange customs from the West but were generally respected, as they were known for the remarkable number of scientist belonging to their race.

The Vanir embassador was a thin, wire-like blond man, with his very pale blond hair tied in an elegant bun true to Vanir fashion. The bow he made was a long, elegant one. He spoke perfect Asgardian, although Thor could hear the tip of his accent rolling itself around his Hs and Ss, first adressing his regards to the Allfather and then turning toward Thor and his consort.

"The lady Freyja presents her best wishes for the new royal couple, the mighty Thor Odinson and his companion Loki Laufson. She sends for them this ancient edition of the Prose Edda, directly from Vanaheim's royal library. We hope this is to your liking."

On these words, he turned toward the younger boy with a gracious smile, speaking in a dialect Thor recognised as Jotun. The whole hall fell silent, as if stuck by lightning. All eyes turned toward them and Thor's hands curled into fists. This wasn't happening.

Loki watched the proceedings beneath his eyelashes, head slightly bowed, showing he was nothing more than a reluctant participant. He wanted to assure those that believed him to be a monster that he was no threat, this was no evil plan, no trick of sorcery, nothing. His hands folded prettily in his lap, Loki glanced up slowly as the ambassadors began spewing sugar-coated words and poison-honey lies. He supposed the people only hid their hate for him to avoid Odin's wrath. He was careful to be slow and smooth with any movements he made, not fidgeting, though he did reach for a goblet of water that had been placed by one of the servers. He sipped it idly, watching calmly and quietly as the ambassadors brought gifts and false well-wishes, giving no approval nor otherwise at the gifts and words, instead giving the same small smile he gave everyone, his eyes kind and face serene, hiding the loathing he had for each person who cast him a disgusted look and then smiled and wished him a long happy life or marriage or what ever.

When The Vanir ambassador came with the book, his face remained as it was but his mind was racing, shocked that lady Freyja would gift such a rare, priceless tome. What wonders could that tome hold? What could he learn from such a novel? He could see the horrified look on Thor's face in the corner of his eye, but he payed him no attention, grudgingly remembering what he had been told. Decline and use translators.

Damn, he was really looking forward to that tome.

He beckoned lightly to the translator, simply saying, "Forgive me, could you?"

"It was exactly what was said in Asgardian, Prince Loki, simply in Jotun."

"Thank you," He whispered softly, turning towards the blond ambassador with a lovely smile. "I'm afraid we must respectfully decline. There is no possibility that we could accept such a treasure, but please, send our thanks to Lady Freyja. Her kind words and approval coupled are gift enough." His asgardian flawless, mannerisms impeccable. There, ha. Let's see thor's face now. He had been trained just as well in Politics and courtly and mannerisms in asgard just as long as he had in the language itself. "My Jotun isn't very fluent. I can read it just fine, but I'm afraid pronouncing and proper word and sentence structure is an entirely different matter." He murmured to Thor, just loud enough to be heard by others.

Thor felt his whole body automatically ease, his hands uncurling and resting flat against his knees. The Jotun was good, too good, better than Thor had ever been at these petty court politics, his smile practiced, his tone just as polite and delicate as the tone all the other envoys used to hide their contempt. For a moment, he wondered if he enjoyed it, if the mythical ice palace of king Laufey also had the intrigues and little wars of words and gestures of the hand that poisoned life in Valhalla. He nodded at the Jotun's words, and Father sent back the Vanir embassador with thanks and wishes of well-being to the Vanir queen and her brother.

The Vanir had always been known for their agressive diplomacy and stayed the only ones who tried to talk directly to the new consort that day. When the sun finally hit the line marked on the marble floor at the end of the hall, Father raised from his seat and officially ended today's audience. Thor supressed a growl of pleasure as he hated the pompt and the ceremonial of the king of Asgard's audiences, prefering the serious, direct talk of his private council. He followed Mother in silence as they exited the large hall, checking if the Jotun had been following him all along. They found a quieter place outside and Mother gave him one of her warm, knowing expressions, gesturing toward the Jotun.

"Follow the Queen, she'll show you around and can open the library for you if you wish. I have other matters to attend to so we'll see each other only tonight."
Without really being aware of it, he found himself about to thank him for avoiding the trap Lady Freyja had obviously set for him. The words got stuck in his throat, and he choked, only scoffing as he left Loki to the cares of Mother. Father gave him one last look before following his consellors to the war room and Thor understood imediately the command in his unique, deep blue eye. He tried not to look too displeased, He kneeled slightly, pressed a light kiss on the back of the Jotun's hand, and left to the training grounds, his palms itching for the handle of a sword.

To be honest, the war of words had been far worse in Jotun. Thinly vieled insults flying from lips, fighting back and forth cleverly until one or the other would back down, humbled and possibly humiliated by the words. Compaired to one of their gatherings, this was nothing but a light conversation, more like discussing weather paterns than dancing around politics. He sat back in his chair and tried not to seem too smug as the proceedings continued. It was a good deal of time later when Odin finally stood and sent the people dispersing, and Loki had to wonder. If he got on Freyja's good side, would he be allowed to have the book?

Likely not, but he could dream couldn't he?

He stood and moved with his intended, Following him and the Queen from the throne room, stopping when Thor did. At the instruction, he inclined his head politely, both agreeing and showing he had understood the Asgardian's will, moving to Frigga's side with a sincere smile on his face. He liked the queen, kind and thoughtful as she was, and he was delighted to get to know his future mother-in-law, if only because she knew just as well what he was going through.

"I wish you good day, then. I shall see you when you've finished." His normal, natural tone was quite more pleasent than the forced tone, if one payed attention to it. He was just about to turn to the queen when Thor took his hand and kissed it politely. It was obviously a little forced, but the gesture of kindness eased Loki's thoughts a little, dispite the odd snort the prince gave. He found himself - Oddly - watching Thor until he disappeared from his view.