A.N. ATTENTION! ALL SHALL BE WELL IN ASGARD WILL BE MOVING TO AO3.

i love , I really do, but AO3 has way less restrictions. You can still leave me comments here and I may update once in a while, but AO3 will be my main account for this Story. /works/566222

The tale of two lovers. Belongs to art/The-Sad-Story-Of-Moon-And-Sun-200315812 and I can't find the poem source, but it isn't mine either.

The next week came and went without Thor really seeing them go. Without realizing it, he had grown used to wake up with Loki's sleeping form beside him, his hair unmade and his expression peaceful. Every time, for a fleeting moment, he could almost forget that the boy was a Jotun, a monster from the Snowlands and the ice palace in Jotunheim. They ate together, still silent, but somehow part of the awkwardness had lifted. Thor read the books his tutors made him read, sprawled on a chair in Mother's library, while Loki sat and carefully turned the pages of some large encyclopedia or epic about a long-forgotten war. Sometimes they didn't really see each other, Thor going his way and Loki his own, sometimes they stayed for hours together, in that light, relaxed silence they had grown to share.

Days were flying even faster for Loki as he worked to find his niche in his new home. Since the day Thor had found him crying, the two had shared a more comfortable coexistence. Thor hadn't told anyone of that moment, much to Loki's relief, he had been horrified, embarrassed and ashamed when Thor found him in such an undignified state, so much so that he had rushed to his tutors after canceling his studies and begged them for lessons. But the moment wasn't mentioned again, and things between them were indefinitely easier. They slept in the same bed, sometimes waking up curled against each other, as if plagued by nightmares and in need of comfort, other times they would wake up on opposite sides, facing each other. They didn't really speak when they woke together, but shared a long glance before they each moved to prepare for the day.

He trained with Thor and Sif in the mornings now, though he often left for sparring with Volstagg after a session of archery and softly spoken words and smiles. Loki had become fast friends with the large warrior, and was just as surprised as everyone else when he realized it. Volstagg was friendly, laughed easily, and seemed to appreciate his brand of humor and stories. If Thor was in counsel with his father and ambassadors, Loki could either be found in the library, out on the field, practicing his riding with Snow, or with Volstagg, laughing at one thing or another. The training he was receiving was starting to show in his movements. He was less awkward, more assured in his movements. He had even grown a bit taller and though he was still far shorter than Thor and almost anyone he met, he couldn't help but be proud of the fact.

Thor went to the council's meetings because Father asked to, as always, kept his mouth shut. The voices of the higher houses had grown more and more moderate about their desire to war on Jotunheim. The Allfather had stayed unbreakable and they slowly but surely aligned themselves with the will of their sovereign. The hardest to persuade were the northerners, who had been the one to lead the attack on Jotunheim and knew the best the ways of war. Thor looked at them over the table, thought of Kvasir. The ambassador of Vanaheim always found good excuses not to attend the court, excusing himself in long, elaborate missives he sent Father.

Thor hadn't told anyone about the bargain. Sometimes, without knowing why, he caught himself staring at Loki's neck as he read, the way he frowned in concentration, muttering to himself words Thor didn't understand. Magic. Queen Freyja, the beautiful queen Freyja was also an expert in magic, although she didn't do any blood magic as the Jotuns were known to do, the laws of Vanaheim forbidding such a practice. She was gorgeous, and youthful in appearance, forever, as ethereal beauty was a trait of the Vanir. It made his stomach twist in weird angles to think about it.

They were in the library on that day, the sun filtering through the dark curtains of Mother's library. Thor had never liked philosophy, or the pointless arguments in Elvish exchanged between two old men who had died centuries ago. He sat up, exhausted, gave Loki a glance. The boy was there, as always, reading in a religious silence, a small, black book between his fingers. Thor looked at the cover intently, not finding a title. He shrugged. He didn't want to keep on studying but the tutors would have no mercy, he knew it.

"What are you reading?" he asked. "It doesn't have a title."

Loki was sitting in a comfortable silence beside Thor, reading intently from the book of Elvish poetry, sonnets, and plays that Frigga had given him. The words flowed gracefully, even in the Aesir language, dancing across the page and his lips as he read, until Thor said something. It took him a minute to pull himself from the book but when he did, he simply smiled and flipped to the very first page.

Neither by hand
Nor by mouth
Shall I bruise you

Neither by heart
Nor by soul
Shall I wound you

Yet by hand
And by mouth
I shall honor you

By heart
And by soul
You will be loved

He read softly, the words wafting into the air like a leaf on the wind, but he puts much soul and spirit into the words as he did in his training. "Tis untitled, because it is the original copy. Queen Frigga was gracious enough to allow me to borrow it." He murmured gently, his lips quirking into a smile. "It also holds songs of heroes and grand tales. Not just poetry, though I must admit, the poems are my favorite." To him, poems held just as much of a tale as the stories and songs of old, but with more emotion, more vivid images. He could feel the soft sway of the grass bending in the wind, the warm sun brushing his cheek... He often lost himself in the world of the poet.

Thor had never been one for poetry, yet he closed his eyes as Loki spoke, listening to the soft intonations of his voice. There was something undeniably feminine in the way he spoke, hints of accent sometimes slipping on his tongue without him knowing it, and Thor couldn't decide for himself if he liked it or hated it. It had annoyed it at first, how he seemed to avoid confrontation, how he seemed terrified all the time, but he had learned that it somehow was his natural state. Loki read books and books never shouted, and so he did the same.

The old fools from Alfheim could wait, and so Thor closed his own book with a small, short clapping noise. He straightened himself up from the awkward position he had been stuck in during the last half-hour. He didn't feel like to read this anymore but couldn't really get out of the library until noon. He looked at Loki, reading out loud, his fingers trailing his way through every word of the page. It was weird, how the prince of Jotunheim spoke of stories and poems like some long lost friends. Thor had never felt that way when Mother had forcefully tried to get him to read on his own, preferring to run around the palace's grounds and play war with Volstagg and Fandral.

"You sound like Mother, its funny."

It sounded stupid and Thor only realized this once the words had escaped his lips. He shook his head.

"I mean, not in a bad way, you know... She really loves poetry and books and that kind of things, and I'm sure she'd be glad to know you're enjoying it too. I've never been one to sit around and read for fun, so she must be happy that at least someone now uses her private library for enjoyment and not only me being forced into reading philosophy and history."

He had a nervous laugh, scratched his head. This was awkward. He should have just kept his eyes open as he fell asleep on his Elvish readings.

"It's just nice."

Loki watched as Thor fumbled for words, a gentle, curious smile on his face. He liked the way Thor spoke, especially when he had to back track and fix what he had said, the way he blushed up his nose just the slightest when the red colored his cheeks. "I take no offense; your mother is very kind and caring. I appreciate being viewed in any way like her." He assured gently, hiding a smile, "such words are very much a compliment." He continued, gently, smiling and closing his own book for a moment. "You're lucky to have her, I never knew my mother, she died at my birth." He wished he could have known her, his sister and brothers assured she was one of the most amazing women anyone could have known.

He paused for a moment, sitting up a little straighter, "If you would like, I could read to you. I know you like hearing stories; perhaps if you didn't have to try and concentrate on the translation and all, you'd be more interested. We could go outside so you don't feel confined here." He didn't know why he wanted to read aloud to the warrior. Maybe it was nice to have a presence there with him, listening, or it was an excuse to keep the prince close and awake during what were supposed to be his lessons. "I used to have to read Agmund's Elvish lessons aloud, because to him the written word made no sense, but hearing it did."

Slowly, Loki scooted to the end of the couch he was on and patted the seat next to him, in offering. He began speak before Thor even moved though, telling of an ancient war between the Elves and Vanir, the smooth prose and poems flowing easily from his lips. His green eyes glanced up at Thor in questioning, asking if he should continue. After all, if the prince wasn't enjoying or appreciating the effort, it wouldn't be difficult for him to just go back to the quiet reading he had been doing since he had arrived here.

Thor stayed still for a moment, surprised. He blinked, surprised. The proposal was sudden, especially coming from Loki who usually followed as he was told to most of the time. Yet, Thor missed the days of old when Mother sang the songs of her ancestors and the Vanir. She played the southern lute, her fingers dancing over the instrument as she told him the stories of lovers separated by the realms, the adventures of brave warriors and the endless wheel of life turning and turning until the end of time. He accepted with a nod; letting himself fall next to the Jotun prince. Loki started speaking.

As words danced on the tip of Loki's tongue, his accent barely audible, Thor had a sad smile. Loki had never had a mother and for a moment he wondered if anyone had ever read him anything as a child. Was it even the Jotun way to tell stories to children? He couldn't know, but Loki's voice knew how to tell stories, not stopping too often, making it go higher or lower at the right moments. He guessed he had, and tried to imagine the tales the Jotun told their children at night. Were the Aesir the fearful monsters for the youngest there?

He read him the story of the king of Alfheim, an evil, cruel man, and his only love, the beautiful heiress of Vanaheim. When the princess, whose beauty was only equaled by her goodness and virtue, fell in love with a prince of another realm and married him, the madness overthrew the already fragile mind of the Elf king. He waged war over the Nine Realms, decided to get the beautiful Vanir by force if not by sentiment.

Loki described the beauty of the Vanir princess with great details, his voice soft with a touch of admiration in the way he let the A's and the E's trail in the back of his throat, and Thor could help but to be reminded of the eerie impression queen Freyja had left on him when he was but a child. In her long green dress, blond hair flowing around her, she was beautiful, her brother by her side, forever young, and she could be his if he only decided to speak up a little bit against the words of Father. If only...

This trail of thoughts made Thor wince, and as the idea crossed his mind, Loki stopped speaking, giving him a questioning look. Thor was pretty sure the boy didn't read minds, but the coincidence made him feel weird. It took him a few seconds to finally open his mouth.

"You're not telling me what happened to the sovereign of Alfheim?" he asked, careful to hide his discomfort. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Elf tyrant to be punished for his crimes, after all.

Loki smiled gently and finished the story. The king had of course been punished for his crimes, put to death and the princess had gained rule over the land with her lover. It wasn't his favorite story, but it was nice all the same, besides, it got Thor closer and killed time for both of them. He finished the story easily, the last few paragraphs jumping easily to his lips. He closed the book and smiled gently. "I could read more if you like, but perhaps you've heard enough for the day?" He frowned a little. Thor looked upset, nervous even as he sat there.

He straightened when someone came close, though he smiled when he saw it was only the Allfather and Allmother. He greeted them kindly, earning a smile from both. "Good afternoon." Frigga smiled gently, patting her son's hair. "Did you have a good lesson?" She asked, moving to examine the book in Loki's hand. "We were just reading about Alfheim war." Loki said with a smile.

"Good, good! That is an excellent story." Odin smiled at them. "But now it is time to greet guests and prepare!" Noting the quizzical glances on the boys' faces, Odin laughed, loudly and heartily. "Tis your birthday tomorrow, my son! We have much to prepare for!"

The words made Loki's heart sink in his stomach, realization settling in. With Thor's birthday all but upon them, the wedding wouldn't be too much off. "That's wonderful," He managed, plastering a smile on his face. "Perhaps I should leave you to it?"

"Of course not, I'm sure the guests would love to meet you, Loki." Frigga assured with an understanding smile.

The rather anti-climactic ending of the tale of the cruel prince of Alfheim left a rather grim feeling in Thor's gut. He looked up to Father, trying his best to hide his discomfort. Men killed kings when they deemed them unworthy of ruling. What had the Allfather thought by forcing this unnatural alliance? How was he supposed to gain the respect of the Aesir with a Jotun as his consort? He tried to chase those thoughts of his head, raised from his seat and gave Mother what might have been exactly like a smile if he had been truly happy with all his heart. His eyebrows were all wrong, his mouth a little off. Thor had always been a terrible liar.

"I can't wait to go, then. The guests have already arrived? I thought the celebrations were only to begin tomorrow."

"The dwarves of Svartalfaheim wanted to be early for tomorrow's tournament. They have yet to forge your weapon."

Father made a low chuckle of approval, and Thor smiled a real smile this time. The ceremonies surrounding the coming of age of young Aesir nobles had always been a bit of a competition between the houses of the realm, and as a prince he was assured his feast would be a things generations would remember. The tournament that followed was a rather big deal too, as all the allies of Asgard were invited to take part to the fights in archery, joust and sword fighting that would take place there. Then, Thor would receive his weapon, crafted by the skillful smiths of Svartalfaheim and symbol of power and maturity.

His passing from childhood to maturity might have meant that his marriage with the heir of Jotunheim was close, but the excitement of finally have a proper word in the matters of the state made him shiver with excitement.

"Will there be a feast tonight then?"

Mother nodded. "Dwarves aren't known for their culinary delicacies, but those ambassadors brought enough mead to get the entirety of Asgard's army drunk. I'll never understand the traditions of Svartalfaheim."

Thor gave a hearty laugh to the dramatic sigh she let out, already walking toward the door. The reminder of the tournament and the feast for his coming of age lifted his spirits to no end.

"I guess we need to warn Sif and the Warriors Three then! We'll see each other tonight at the banquet!" He said as he pushed open the library door, impatient to get out, dragging Loki behind him.

Thor more or less ran to the palace's great hall, only stopping by a servant to ask about Sif's whereabouts and to pass the invitation to tonight's feast to Fandral. Sif's family, a small but proud and independent house from the South, didn't live in Valhalla, preferring to own a mansion in the city that surrounded the palace. Sif's place wasn't that far, not enough to take the horses out, and Thor gave Loki a mischievous grin as they passed the palace's doors, stopping before the large golden stairs that led to the noisy, lively neighborhoods of the lower city.

"Sif doesn't live too far. Time for you to see a bit of the real Asgard, right?"

Loki watched the exchanges with a small smile, setting the book aside and pulling his braid over his shoulder, fiddling with it idly as he listened. He knew very little of the more current Aesir coming of age ceremonies, only what books told him. He knew his brothers' coming of ages were full of singing, dancing and laughter. Loki had always loved to sing, the songs of old flying from his lips. He knew a few from Asgard, but not as many as he knew in Elvish and Jotun.

He perked a little when he noticed the Allfather's eye on him, as if trying to read his mind. He offered a smile to the huge king, earning a gentle smile in return, far more gentle than he ever thought possible. He wondered silently, what the king was searching for, but it was apparently found as he earned a pat on his shoulder before Thor was dragging him out of the seat. He squeaked lightly, but followed behind him as quickly as he could.

He smiled when they came to the steps examining the long way to the village. It would be nice to see more of Asgard than just the palace, he thought, beaming up at Thor as the older boy spoke. "Let's go then! I'll race you down the stairs!" He laughed, "Onyourmarkgetsetgo!"

Being small and lithe, that was one thing Loki did have going for him, he was quite speedy. He took the stairs three at a time and was lucky that he didn't fall flat on his face. He made it to the bottom quickly though, grinning at Thor before turning to peer into the town square, watching as children romped through the streets and women sat together, laughing as they knitted or sewed. He was nervous, first of all, he had no idea where he was going, and secondly, he wasn't sure how the town folk would react to his presence. He looked silently up at Thor, questioningly.

"Tired already?" Thor laughed at the boy. "There's still a way to go until we get at Sif's!"

Still running, he grabbed Loki's hand as he passed him, dragging him through a maze of smaller streets and passageways. A proper visit of the city could wait; there were important matters to attend to right now.

Thor had a special knack for passing unremarked in the busy streets of Asgard although he was supposed to be the heir and act accordingly. It part thanks to Father's will to loosen the once restrictive laws and ceremonials surrounding the royal family. The progressive reforms the actual Allfather had put in place had started to implement themselves before Thor grew old enough to remember of the common people fall on their knees when they saw him.

Thor never tired, not by running through the paved streets of the lower city. His day clothes never dragged much attention, keeping it sober when decoration wasn't needed, just as Father did, and at the speed they slalomed between the stalls of fruits of today's market and the carts full of live chickens and barrels of mead to be sold before his birthday, they didn't get recognized. Loki's face was still something a few were knowledgeable of, most of the inhabitants of the realm imagining a fearful ice monster as the future king's consort.

"I am not tired, but I don't know the way!" Loki said with a pout, though he couldn't help but beam as Thor took his hand, a pleased blush appearing on his face. He followed the boy happily, laughing as they skirted through town, passing through the back roads and the town, acting less like a prince and more like a young boy as they ducked and weaved between people and carts. His father would have been furious, it was likely that the Allfather would have been too, but he loved the feeling he got while running and laughing with his intended.

Intended... He forced the word from his mind. Right now, he wanted to pretend he was simply Loki, and Thor was just his friend.

Sif's family mansion wasn't too far from the castle, near the eastern part of town. It wasn't really impressive, unlike the sumptuous apartments of Fandral's family inside the walls of the inner city. It was a simple building of three stories, in off-white bricks, two large iron doors to let the horses in the inner gardens. The windows were the first thing Sif's father had changed when they had arrived to the capital, placing instead of the usual smaller openings most houses in the center had large windows with paintings of the sigil of the southern house, a golden wreath.

Thor didn't knock, the servants already opening the door for him. He didn't visit very often, Sif preferring to come herself to the palace, but his name was known and the servants, all natives from Sif's home country, were old-fashioned, southern people attached to traditions, and it was only at Thor's demand that they had ceased to kneel whenever they saw him.

"Could you tell the lady Sybil that we will need her daughter for the evening?" He asked the steward of the house, a short, portly man with fiery red hair. "She is invited to tonight's feast to celebrate the arrival of the envoys from Svartalfaheim."

As the servant went away, Thor gave Loki a pat on the shoulder, grinning.

"Sif's mother is... Something. She'll probably force her to wear dress, and if we're lucky, she'll get her hair braided, wear a bit perfume and jewelry. Sif might not look like it, but she can be a rather fair maiden if she puts her heart to it, or rather if someone puts their heart into forcing her to fit into feminine clothes."

Loki refused to let Thor out run him, so he made sure to keep pace with the boy, slowing to a stop only when he did. Loki gave a breathless grin, brushing his hair back as the servants ran to alert their mistress.

"Sif is very independent, it isn't something to force out of someone." He smiled again and shrugged. "It's something to be admired, and you can hardly force anyone to change." Loki perked when he saw a small woman appear... But even she was taller than him. He sighed a little at the realization but smiled pleasantly anyway.

Sybil was a short, shapely woman who never seems to walk, always half-running, half-strutting wherever she went. After a few shouts on the second floor, something Thor recognized like the odd, Vanir-like dialect of the South, she more or less ran down the stairs to meet them, dressed in a white tunic, her small feet only covered by thin cotton slippers. She came to meet Thor, sparing but a short glance at Loki, with a large smile on her face, her hair impeccably braided and pinned into an intricate bun. She had always seemed to Thor like a true southern lady, so unlike her daughter, always elegant and feminine, with her large hips and generous breasts. She bowed very low, even though Thor had often told her that all the ceremonial really wasn't necessary, true to her origins. Thor tried not to roll his eyes.

"Prince Thor! What a surprise! You'll forgive my appearance today, I was not aware you were to visit! Oh, I look dreadful!" She talked was fast, her accent heavy in her mouth, making large movements of the hands. "Sif is upstairs. I told her to change. She went out again God-knows-where, came back with her clothes all battered and dirty. She told me she had been training! Training! I tried to tell her to act more lady-like, especially since she decided that the husband her father chose for him wasn't good enough for her, but she won't hear me out!"

She played nervously with the row of pearls that hung around her neck, biting her painted lips. Thor couldn't help but to smile. It always seemed incredible to him that the calm, fiercely warrior Sif lived in the same house as Lady Sybil, always so effusive about her emotions and meticulous about her appearance.

"Sif is a very fair maiden and she will without a doubt find herself someone to share her life with." Thor chuckled. "You need not to worry, Lady Sybil."

Sybil sighed, despair subtly twisting the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, how I wish that matters had been different and that you could have married my dear daughter, Prince Thor! You would have been the perfect husband for her, really! Although I really hope that you're not too unhappy with this Jotun prince she told me about, even though Sif keeps telling me that this Loki of Jotunheim really isn't as monstrous as the legends say. Is it true that they can't eat cooked meat or use utensils?"

Loki enjoyed listening to Thor and the woman banter, listening if only to learn about Thor's friend. Besides, it was rather amusing to watch Thor and the boisterous lady interact, the way she spoke and the small signs that Thor gave off. A restrained roll of eyes, a twitch of his lips, a flex of muscle in his arms... He chuckled lightly, turning to examine the woman. He could see where her daughter got that fire and spunk, her looks as well! Even though Sif obviously didn't put her fire and passion into what her mother deemed necessary for a young lady, but surely the woman was proud of her daughter, no matter what the young lady did.

He couldn't help but listen more closely when the woman began speaking of what nonsense rumors that were spread about his kind. He laughed softly at the idea of his dainty sister trying to eat with her hands or his brothers trying to eat the vegetables and roots that would be in place of wild boars at feasts.

"I assure you, m'lady, the Jotun race is more civilized than most realize." He finally spoke, smiling before he bent in a respectful bow. He took no offense to it; after all he was sure there were false truths for every race.

"Mother, allow me to introduce you to The Prince Loki Laufeyson." Sif said from where she stood on the stairs, a little red from embarrassment, but dressed prettily in a simple white gown. "Loki, I hope you don't mind."

"After Fandral's jokes I'm sure I can stand anything." He assured with a smile, giving a little bow to Sif as well.

"I wasn't going to wear this, but I was told it was for the preparations of your coming of age, I figured I best try to look like a lady for a night or two." She frowned in distaste, though her mother seemed pleased at what she was wearing.

"And for the record, I would not marry Thor if things had played out different. Sorry big fellow, but I'm simply not interested in marriage." She teased with a small smirk; a hand settling on her hip as the other playfully tapped Thor's shoulder.

Sif's mother had made a barely audible squeaking sound as she realized her mistake, staying afterwards uncharacteristically silent. The furtive glances she now gave Loki mixed terror and embarrassment. She probably feared to fall out of grace because of her little slip-up, the unsaid rule of the court being that matters couldn't be addressed directly, always by sideway little looks and subtle changes in manners. It made Thor mad to no end, as he had always been as the actual Allfather, frank to a point that could almost be perceived as rude. He shrugged her little side step off, choosing instead to give Sif one of his blinding smiles.

"Then all the young warriors of Asgard shall despair, knowing that the fair and strong Sif won't marry them!"

He laughed, placing his hands on her shoulders. He turned his head slightly, meeting Loki's gaze, soft as ever, like the water of a pond on a dry summer day. Thor looked at him for a moment, and something suddenly struck him. Marriages. He frowned, remembering the upcoming wedding and Kvasir's sly, measured words. Fast enough, he shook his head, giving to Sif's mother an apologizing look.

"Please excuse us Lady Sybil. Since the maiden is ready, we shall leave. Give our regards to the master of the house, and tell him that Father cordially invites him to participate in tomorrow's tournament."

He gave a small bow to Sybil, who slightly jumped in surprise, as she would never grow used to the new ways of the court of Valhalla. She bade them farewell with large moves of the hands and numerous advices destined to her daughter, reminding her to act like a proper lady this time, no fighting and to hold correctly her fork and her knife. Sif took it all with her everlasting calm expression, only opening her mouth back again when they had passed the front door.

"Yes, Mother, I shall be a perfect little idiot and wait for my prince charming like the maidens of the songs of our ancestors!" she said as they walked, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Gods, like if last time hadn't been terrible enough..."

Thor sighed, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Sif's mother had only had boys, and her only daughter refused to play with her the game of courtship and marriage. Sif's last courter had been young and fair enough to make her maybe change her mind about wedding at first, but his conversation had bored her to tears, and his utter inability to use a sword or a bow correctly, accusing the quality of her father's equipment for his weakness, had cut short any of her mother's dream to see her wed before she grew into an old maid.

"You know, Lady Sybil only wants your happiness. It's just..." Thor was bad with words. "You're just very different and it's hard for her to comprehend what would truly make you happy."

It felt weird, saying that, with Loki by his side, remnant of Father's will and how Thor could only follow the words of the Allfather. They stayed silent for the rest of the walk back to the castle, the streets now emptying themselves as the sun started its course back toward the horizon. Thor kept his head low, and they passed more or less unnoticed up until the large stairs of the castle.

"Well this is a surprise..."

It was; the Vanir had also chosen to come early. Thor blinked, recognizing the large, impressive silhouette of the Vanir royal carriage on the top of the hill. This was going to be problematic.

Loki had simply met that blue gaze with his own soft green eyes, giving a tiny, almost tired smile. The way back to the castle was slower, and he had the chance to examine the town. He smiled at the sight of the stalls at the market, examining the handmade trinkets and produce they had for sale. He had to admit, he lingered a little, letting Thor and Sif walk a head a little before he ran to catch up with them.

The small group split at the top of the stairs, each going his (or her) own separate paths to prepare for the feast. Loki, after grabbing the ornamental clothes he planned on wearing, searched out Frigga, finding her in the grand hall with her hand maidens. "Excuse me, my lady." He murmured shyly, giving a bow.

"There is no need for such formalities, dear, have I not said so before?" Frigga asked, not unkindly, smiling gently as she did so. "You may call me Mother or Frigga, Loki, it is perfectly alright."

A blush stained Loki's pale cheeks and he nodded bashfully, pulling his long braid over his shoulder and toying with it slowly. "I... I was wondering... Perhaps... If you would assist me in... Cutting my hair?" The words hurt almost physically to say. His hair was the last piece of his physical identity that had not been changed and a reminder his life in Jotunheim. It was not something easily said or done.

"It... It is very uncommon to have hair in Jotunheim, so those who have it keep it long... I need someone I can trust to cut it." He explained in an even softer voice than usual, causing Frigga to move closer just to hear him.

"Oh, darling of course I will cut your hair. It is not necessary, you know. If you wish to keep it, no one will tell you otherwise. It really is quite lovely."

"No, I want to do this." He needed to prove that he could change, he could adapt. It seemed as if the Queen understood his need, for she gave him a sort of knowing smile before dismissing her handmaidens. She took his hand and led him to a dressing room, setting up a long mirror in front of a stool and a comfortable chair. "I used to give Thor his haircuts here, how he hated them." She laughed softly, easing Loki into the stool and pulling out a pair of scissors from a drawer.

He knew she was telling a story, he could see himself reacting to and laughing about it, but all he could really remember afterward, was listening to the scraping of metal on metal and watching as his hair was clipped away lock by lock, long strand by strand. It felt as if the last of his heritage really had been stripped away, leaving him an outsider in all realms, leaving him with shoulder length hair that curled slightly at the ends.

After cleaning up, Frigga kissed his forehead and bid him farewell, leaving him to dress and prepare mentally for the feast. He found himself dawdling, stalling for time and running his fingers through his now distressingly short hair. He finally dressed in the formal clothes, a pleasing black and emerald green ensemble with golden trim, something the tailer here had made for was absolutely no way he was going to be late... He just wished he had more time to prepare.

He made his way silently to the dining hall, finding Thor and his parents already there. He quickly took his seat next to Thor, murmuring a soft greeting as a servant announced the arrival of the Queen Freyja.

Sitting next to Father always felt weird. It made Thor feel small and constricted in layers of silk and unnecessary jewelry. Protocol being what they were, he really could escape it, and Fandral had more or less giggled all the time as he picked Thor's most delicate clothing and forced upon him an impressive amount of gold and precious stones. Sif had watched with a small, amused smirk. Of course.

The envoys from Svartalfaheim hadn't yet finished the smiting of Thor's new weapon and would probably be late, keeping the best for desert. Tonight's entertainment, a few musicians the Vanir had brought with them, where already setting up He gave Father a look of concern. Loki hadn't showed up yet and the queen Freyja and her brother were meant to show up in only a few moments. Father sighed, giving her a reassuring half-smile, rising up from his seat at the center of the table to offer words of welcome to tonight's guests. His words were weighted and well-chosen, as always, earning himself the ever approving nods of his most faithful generals.

Without Thor really knowing it, Loki had taken place beside him, whispering a soft salutation. It surprised him to see him come back with his hair shorter and clad in what Thor recognized as a more Vanir-like style, clothes obviously chosen by Mother. It surprised Thor, how well it fitted him, hugging his slim silhouette where his Asgardian shirts and trousers seemed to hang loose. Thor made a face, catching himself staring a tad bit too long. He whispered a small "Hi" to him as the queen of Vanaheim entered the feast hall, followed by her brother and the ambassador of Vanaheim in Asgard.

The woman was gorgeous, slim, with long golden hair and sparkling eyes, a long, shimmering blue dress covering her dainty frame. "Prince Thor." Her voice was smooth, silken and smooth as she came closer, a brilliant smile on that gorgeous face. "I've not seen you in so long. Allow me to personally wish you a joyous coming of age and congratulations."

The legends about Freyja's eternal beauty were true, and Thor couldn't help but to be enraptured by the sight of the queen of the Vanir. He wasn't alone, and he spotted quite a few of the other younger warriors from the higher houses of the realm simply look, mouth agape. Her silken hair seemed to dance as she walked, and her apparent thinness wasn't unattractive as it should have been. She looked elegant, covered in expensive fabric, her full hips undulating as she walked.

Thor didn't fully catch up that he was supposed to answer her.

"I... Um. My father and I are pleased to welcome you to Asgard, Queen Freyja and Prince Freyr," he finally managed to articulate.

He gave an awkward bow to her and her brother. Freyr was surprisingly tall for a Vanir, with large shoulders and a rather impressive built, beautiful as his sister. He could have passed as an Asgardian, hadn't it been for his purple eyes, just like his sister's, and the large bun that kept his long hair from falling over his shoulders, typical of Vanir men. He took a few steps further, now standing next to the queen, his voice full and deep.

"We are the one thanking you for your hospitality. We wish you the best, to you and your future husband."

His eyes darted toward Loki and Thor couldn't help but to read aggression all over the man's body, from the sharp, cutting corner of his smile to the way his muscles rolled smoothly as he bowed a second time. The prince of Asgard gritted his teeth.

"Please do enjoy your stay here," said Father, interrupting Thor's train of thought. "We are honored by such a visit and hope that the mead of Asgard will taste as sweet to your mouths as the mead of Vanaheim."

On these words, the Allfather clapped his hands together three times and servants seemed to crawl out of nowhere bringing to the tables large pieces of roasted meat and impressive plates of foreign fruits decorating a boar head, a pheasant or a duck. The Vanir went to their places, not too far from the royal table, Thor unable to get his eyes off Freyja's silhouette as she walked, almost dancing, next to Kvasir the ambassador.

He blinked, shook his head. He hated this ridiculous game of politics he had found himself entrapped in.

"Thank you for your kind words, Allfather, I'm sure my brother and I will enjoy our stay, I feel very much at home already." The gorgeous woman assured, her lovely eyes lingering on Thor, though she didn't even give Loki a glance. After all, he was unfit for the throne. Everyone knew it. To have a Jotun in a position of power in Asgard was downright degrading to the kingdom. But, perhaps she could point Thor away from the wishes of his father, away from Jotunheim. She smiled rather gorgeously at the young man as the musicians struck up and began playing.

"Would I be out of line, to ask the man of the hour for a dance?" She purred lightly looking at Odin and Thor with her sweetest smile.

Odin gave his consent on the subject, after glancing at Loki for a moment. Though when Thor and Freyja swept off with several of the guests to dance, it left young Loki feeling quite alone and awkward. That was the one thing he never learned. Dancing. He knew a few dances from Jotunheim, but he hadn't really done much studying on any Asgardian dances.

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. "Well, since your intended is off dealing with... Foreign politics, might I have this dance?" Fandral grinned lightly as he bowed to Loki, as if knowing the Frost Giant's weakness.

A flush appeared on the moon pale cheeks. "I'll only step on your toes; I've no skill in dancing."

Fandral laughed easily and pulled the delicate boy to his feet, causing him to stumble into the warrior's chest. "Just let me lead." The warrior smiled, pulling Loki onto the dance floor.

While Fandral attempted to teach the young Jotun, Freyja was happy to prance around with Thor, a quick upbeat song strumming from the band. "What an excellent song," she smiled as they danced, her eyes everywhere but Thor. She was pleased to see that all eyes were on them, that she was right where she deserved to be, in the center of attention. "And what do you think of your little intended?" Her voice all but sang, but she didn't give Thor a chance to answer. "I think that your father is making a mistake, both diplomatically and sensibly. Honestly, look at him."

She nodded over to where Loki was, flustered and trying to match Fandral's quick steps as he was dragged around. Many had begun to observe them, and Volstagg had even cut in, providing a slightly slower partner. The larger man took his time to explain and help Loki with the steps, easing Loki into a careful dance.

"He can't even dance properly, let alone rule at your side. And what of heirs?" She frowned a little. "He's obviously male, how do you expect the rule to continue after you must step down?"

Thor felt... weird. He was a good dancer, of course, as any warrior of Asgard, but he found himself stumbling a bit as he led the queen of Vanaheim through the hall, her palm soft and delicate against his. They moved around following the beat, and Thor found himself unsure of his feet, trying desperately to hold eye contact with the Vanir. She seemed to move like water, unpredictable, and Thor found himself staring at her pale, long neck, how soft and delicate it seemed. It was odd, how she managed to look so stunning even though bones sometimes showed themselves through her fair skin, how seemingly thin she was. Her words shouldn't have surprised him but they did. He stopped, uneasy.

"Listen, I..."

They had stepped aside, hidden behind the large pillars that circled the room, Thor giving a few quick glances around; making sure that no one was listening. He somehow felt ashamed.

His voice was weak and it annoyed him. He thought of Loki, of how utterly out of place he must have felt and yet how he somehow managed to look like it didn't truly bother him. Did he do it because of his own father, of the cruel lord of the Snowlands and the game of politics? He looked at Freyja, how beautiful she was, and bit his lips. This could be his and yet...

"... I am no traitor to the Allfather, Queen Freyja. I won't... I can't accept your brother's offer."

Freyja was happy to follow Thor behind the pillar; after all, the offer they had made was practically irresistible. There were men and warriors from all over, trying to win her hand and convince her to marry, but no, she chose to offer herself to the Prince of Asgard. Thor would be envied by all who heard of the engagement. She smirked softly and listened to Thor, the words taking a minute to sink in.

He was... Rejecting their offer? Rejecting her?!

"You're making a grave mistake." She all but snarled, her normally angelic face twisting angrily. "I know more about ruling and about Asgard and traditions than you and your little bride put together. I have more power in the courts, I know how to work them, and you would forever have Vanaheim's support in any war you pursue. What can that Jotun give you, other than a shaky peace with the nearly destroyed Frost Giants? He has nothing! Those creatures are weak, and even if they did declare war, I can promise you would defeat them without even batting an eye! Are you certain you wish to turn my brother and I away? For that scrawny monster? For the sake of your foolish old father?"

She watched him intently, looking for any sign of weakness or hesitation, her blue eyes hard as diamonds as she searched him. She couldn't even fathom what was going through the Prince's head that made him think this was better for his kingdom.

"You must be just as dense as he. Like father like son."

Anger suited her ill, her pink mouth twisting into the most undesirable shapes, and he looked around, making sure no-one had heard her talk. He didn't want anyone to know he had been receiving offers behind his back, because that wasn't something a royal prince was supposed to do. He wouldn't betray Father, and, even though it felt weird to say, he wouldn't betray Loki. Maybe the alliance was a bad idea, maybe they couldn't count on King Laufey's word about holding the peace, maybe it would be indeed a fruitless union, but it didn't mean he would let his own feelings get in the way. He felt his blood burning as she insulted Father, but he gritted his teeth, taking a step back before he did anything stupid.

"I obey the All-Father, and you should too, Freyja of Vanaheim. Remember to who your allegiance and the protection of your kingdom falls to."

On these words, he left her there, too angry to go back to Loki and pretend nothing had happened. He headed for the gardens, finding Sif along the way, obviously trying to hide herself too. She looked at him, his whole body tensed as she sat alone in the garden, a bottle of the dwarfs' mead next to her. Thor unceremoniously let himself fall next to her, trying and failing to read the hard, stern expression of her face. She did that, sometimes, just fall silent and turn her face to stone, when anger became too strong to even scream out. He didn't say anything, didn't need to, only leaning over her and taking, with his right hand, the bottle she had brought with her. He needed a drink, too.

They took turns sipping from the bottle, not talking, looking up at the stars. Tonight was a nice night, and tomorrow would be a good day to hold a tournament, the air not too humid and the sky all clear. It took Sif a moment to break the silence, her face a little bit red from the alcohol and her lips shaking.

"I swear, if I had a sword right now, I would have cut this little lord's hand for thinking it was appropriate to touch me like this."

Thor shook his head, though he didn't dare putting a hand on her shoulder, her anger radiating through her skin. It had been hard for her lately, because she should have been ready for marriage and yet she wasn't, not now, probably not ever. Sif's actual status as someone more poetic might have called "a blooming flower" attracted the unwanted attentions of pretenders who either want the prestige of her family or the money of her father, and it made her mad.

He took another swing from the bottle, warmth slowly filling him. He hadn't eaten yet, and it felt weird to drink on an empty stomach, but he didn't want to go back just yet, to face Freyr with his impressive muscles and Father with his ever-looking eye. It felt nice, and he let himself feel enraptured by the infinity of space over their heads. The bottle emptied itself slowly but surely, Sif's now heavy head falling on his shoulder as she started rambling about her mother and the duties of a young maiden. Thor listened and laughed as she did, feeling his jaw grown numb and his cheeks grow warm. For a moment, weddings and politics didn't matter, and it felt good.

While all these secret dealings and hiding went on, Loki was forced to mingle with the Vanir and other early guests, plastering on his best fake smile as he accepted faux compliments, flattery, thinly veiled disgust, and insults. It was disorientating, quite like being hit with the broad side of a sword. He did not know what to say or what all the customs were, what the acceptable answers were to some questions, or acceptable reactions to hypothetical terms and problems, and he had very little help. The Allfather and Allmother could not be expected to watch and help him the entire time, both had more pressing matters to attend, Volstagg and Fandral had gotten into a sort of drinking and eating contest, and Sif and Thor had both gone off somewhere! So that left Loki alone in the lion's, den carefully making excuses, trying to muddle through politics, and trying to avoid the sharp teeth of bloodthirsty ambassadors, eager to make him slip up.

He had finally managed to hide himself behind a curtain, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. It was positively frightening out there. He wondered silently if he could just wait here the rest of the night. Surely he had enough power to make himself invisible, or transport him back to the room. But just as he was thinking up a spell, the curtain was pulled back, and he jumped, looking bashfully up into the eye of Odin. It was as if that single grey eye could see his entire mind laid out before him, as if he had no secrets that could hide in that gaze. After a moment though, the look grew soft - sad, sympathetic bordering on pitying - and it had Loki flushing and bowing his head with embarrassment and shame.

"I believe I saw Thor leave to comfort Sif in the garden." Odin's surprisingly soft voice murmured, a hand placed on Loki's shoulder. "The hour is growing late, and he will need to be up early for tomorrow. Why don't you go fetch him, so that he may eat something before he retires for the night?"

The man was offering him a chance, a window of time to escape the crowd and the politics, even if it was only for a few short moments. Loki looked up again and nodded slowly, earning a pat on his shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." He said sincerely before sneaking out of the curtains and out into the cool night air. He took his time going to the gardens, breathing slowly and feeling the cool wind on his cheek. This was precisely what he needed.

"Thor?" He called gently, seeing two forms sitting on a stone bench in front of the orchids. As he moved closer, he could practically smell the strong stench of alcohol on his intended and Sif. He put a careful hand on Thor's shoulder, moving so he could see the boy in the strong moonlight. "Thor, your father would like you to come in before you go to rest. You have a long day tomorrow."

"Oh Loki!" Thor laughed. It sounded funny, "oh loki", "oloki", "oloko", "iliki". He turned in an ample movement, Sif groaning in disapproval, her body straightening itself up lazily. He laughed again, and she gave him an unconvinced blow of her fist on his shoulder. He winced in mock pain.

"You're going to get married and I'm not," she blurted out, a strange kind of triumph in her voice. "Never ever ever married."

Thor gave her a pat on the head, still staring at Loki. The boy was standing there, something like incomprehension in his eyes, and it was weird to see him like this, his hair short and his clothes shining in the soft glow of the palace's illuminated feast hall. He gripped his hand, raising himself up shakily; somehow ending slouched over the boy's smaller frame. It was odd, because his skin was cold while Thor's own is burning up, and he ended up burying his face in the crook of his neck, his cheeks feeling colder as he pushed them against his throat. He didn't really care if it bothered him or not. It just felt nice.

Oh dear, they were drunk, completely and utterly gone. Loki gave a soft "eep" when he found himself with Thor leaning so heavily on him. Well, he had to get Thor to his room at least. He could send for a plate of food and some water for the young prince, but he really couldn't bring him back into the dining hall. Thor would surely make a fool of himself and be ridiculed. He had to admit though, he rather liked the friendly way Thor had said his name. The first time at least, when it wasn't mumbled or jumbled up.

"Sif, why don't you just lie down a moment? I'll send a handmaiden to help you to a room, okay?" Loki's words were muffled by Thor's shoulder, but she seemed to understand, giggling again and laying out on the bench, the empty bottle of alcohol sliding from her fingertips and on to the ground. He gave a little nod before slowly leading Thor to a side hall that would avoid the feast and provide a decent way back to their room. He jumped a little at the feeling of over-warm skin pressed into his cool neck, shuddering from an odd sensation he didn't quite understand.

"Loki, Loki, Loki, tell me a story, you look so pretty when you tell me stories," he sing-sang. "Loki, Loki, where will you bring me?"

He let out another laugh, and somehow he knew in the back of his head that it was ridiculous but it didn't stop him. Loki smelled nice, has always done, but now it didn't feel wrong to truly breathe it. It was an odd, yet somehow interesting mix of pinewood and soap, with a faint touch of honey, and, all of a sudden, Thor wanted to taste it. He did, licking the side of his jaw, grimacing as he ended up with a strand of black hair in his mouth.

"You smell good but you taste weird. Are all Jotuns like that of it's just you? I think it's just you."

"What s-story should I tell you?" He asked, turning his head towards the moon. "I could tell you about two lovers, destined never to be together. I could tell you of an Elvish war and - Aeik!" He jumped back from Thor completely when he was licked, his eyes wide. Honestly, drunk or not, who just went around and licked people?! He shook his head to pull the hair from Thor's mouth, giving a little grimace as he cleaned himself. If he was lucky, Thor wouldn't remember this tomorrow and he could pretend it never happened.

"Come here, you great oaf. No more licking me, okay? I'm not some sweet treat." Loki insisted when he noticed Thor was barely keeping himself up. He led him dutifully into the hall, and luckily passed a maid who could help Sif. She went quickly and quietly and soon Loki and Thor were alone again.

"I'll tell you a story, but you must stay quiet and pay attention." Loki said firmly

"The Sun and the Moon passed each other as they did every day when day turned to night."Good night Sun." the Moon would say as she rose above the world. "Guard our people well Moon." the Sun would say as he left the sky to sleep. Moon would admire Sun's rays and Sun would admire Moon's gentle light. It was in this way that the two fell in love.

Moon thought about the situation all night as she watched her people from the night sky. When she met Sun as they were trading places again the next day, she called out to him. "Oh Sun, you shine so handsomely and I love you so very much." The Sun replied. "I love you Moon. I always have. When can we be together?" Moon thought about this for a long moment and then spoke softly. "People don't like the darkness of night. It scares children and makes people unable to see what is around them. We could stay together and never let the darkness of night fall on our people."

The Sun agreed to this and said "Come shine with me Moon!" The Moon and the Sun shined all day long as they watched their people. When the time for darkness came, Sun did not set. Things did not work as they planned. Many children below cried because they didn't want to sleep while Sun was still shining and the adults couldn't sleep either because the light from Sun and Moon made the Earth too bright for them to sleep.

"Moon," Said Sun, very late into what should have been night time. "The people are weary and cannot sleep due to my light." "Yes, agreed Moon. Let us both set so that we may be together and the people may sleep." Sun and Moon again dipped way, way down far below Asgard. This however left Asgard very, very dark with only tiny stars to make light for the people during night time.

This made things confusing for the people. They didn't know what time it was any more and many people slept well into what should have been day time. This went on for many months, confusing the people. They missed Sun and how he lit their days, helping plants grow and giving life to them and to the animals. They missed Moon and how she gave just enough of a soft glow to make them feel protected at night and how she kept watch over the night sky. Her appearance was what helped them ease into night fall. Pretty soon many people wrote letters and asked Wind to deliver them to Sun and Moon. Most of the letters stated that they missed the two lovers and they needed night and day to remain healthy and strong.

After getting many of these letters, Sun and Moon knew the statements were true. Sun looked sadly at Moon. "I love being with you Moon, I love having your soft and lovely glow all to myself and I love you so much that it aches in side to tell you that we need to leave this place and go back to our people. I miss giving my people day light. They need me." The Moon sighed sadly. "Yes Sun, the people need day light and with day light they need night as well. I miss providing they light in the darkness and protecting them while they sleep. I love you, but, we must return to providing night and day for our people.

Sadly, the two agreed that the only times they could be together was the few moments they saw each other between night and day and day and night. This time however, it was more painful. They both knew the joy of being together and it made only a few quick glimpses of each other even harder to stand. Sun would cry, which caused rain showers and floods. Moon did not feel whole without the sun, so, she only showed up as a sliver in the sky. After a few months of this Asgard spoke to them and explained that things needed to change for the sake of the people they each loved so much. "I will rotate and the people will have no idea they are spinning and Moon you will stay to one side of me while Sun, you will stay to the other. When the people on one side of me are having day light hours, the others will have night. You two will never have to pass each other again. You will not be reminded of what you can never have." Sun and Moon agreed that this would be best so, they followed Asgard's instructions and each remained on one side of Asgard.

The people would say (once they learned about the spinning of Asgard and how the situation had played out) that when the Sun shown his brightest he was thinking of Moon and when the Moon was full, she was thinking of Sun. This is true. So, while still in love, Sun and Moon lead separate lives they remain as though married to each other by their devotion to their people and by cloaking one side of Asgard in light on one side and darkness on the other."

By the time Loki finished, they were in the rooms and Loki was patiently helping Thor out of his good clothes, leaving him in his leggings and easing him into the bed. "And that is your story for the night." The young Jotun said softly, pouring the young man a glass of water.

"Drink this, or your hang over will be unbearable in the morning."

The cushions of his own bed felt nice, nicer than he remembered them to be. They felt cold against his face, colder than Loki's skin, and he buried his head under them, groaning as he did. The annoying tip of the upcoming headache was starting to make itself felt, but he made it fall silent with a slow massage of his temples. The furtive image of Freyja's angry expression passed through his mind. He thought of her pretty bosom, of the fine fabric of her dress. Still. He wouldn't betray Father and he wouldn't betray Loki, not matter how weird it felt to think about it.

He looked at the ice prince, who a glass of water in his right hand, frowning. Thor didn't feel like being a responsible boy tonight. He could deal with hangovers.

"Tell me, why are all your stories so sad? Is it something you Jotuns are fond of, bad endings? Or is it because you are sad yourself? There must be a young, pretty maiden crying in Jotunheim, thinking of you here to marry the heir of Asgard instead of her."

There was a slightly accusatory tone under his otherwise relaxed tone, and Thor sighed. He raised himself up, gripped the other boy's hand for support, water spilling a little bit as he did.

"I'm a selfish prince, you know, like the one from your book. I hope you don't hate me for it, even though you probably do. I sort of fucked up big time with Queen Freyja, but I guess I can't do anything now."

On these words, he let himself fall back on the bed, his palm still around Loki's wrist, dragging him with him. The glass fell on the ground with a low "clank". Svartalfar glass didn't break like normal glass, and Thor wondered for a moment what the dwarves had prepared for him, as he had not had the chance to see them at the banquet. A morning star? A hammer? Thor knew someone of his rank usually chose the sword, but he had found himself not as skilled with such a weapon. He would see in the morning.

"Loki, Loki, Loki..."

Without really knowing why he had found himself nuzzling the boy's neck, his arms flopped around his shoulder, effectively keeping him from standing up. He laughed, his voice slurring

"Loki will you forgive me, I promise I won't be a meanie if you forgive me, please Loki please forgive me."

The smell was the same, and he clumsily gripped his now shorter hair, somehow liking the sensation of newly cut strands under his fingers. He smiled. It was odd to think, but there were some things about Loki that were beautiful in their own special ways. He had pretty eyes, serious when he read, gleaming when he smiled, and shy when he spoke. It was weird, and Thor shouldn't have found it attractive, but it was.

It took him a moment to understand that he was kissing him, and his lips were dry and rough against his own. It was stupid, it was weird, but is felt nice, and Thor couldn't get his mind to work properly tonight. To hell with consequences.

Loki could only shake his head at Thor's antics, holding the cup insistently as Thor buried himself and rolled around a bit in the blankets and the cushions. "Thor, come on now. Don't be foolish. It was just the first story that came to mind." It was a lie, of course. That story was one he had listened to since he was young. He didn't know why he liked it so much. Perhaps he wanted that kind of love, perhaps he wanted to know there was someone waiting for him and missing him back home. "No, the only maiden missing me is likely my sister. There are not as many maidens in Jotunheim as there are here. I've only seen four in the city, including Shamir." He murmured, gasping lightly when Thor clutched his arm, the water dripping down his hand and arm.

"Thor, what are you-" another gasp was torn from him as Thor pulled him into the bed. It was truly the sudden affection that truly threw Loki off; the gentle way Thor was holding him, cradling him in his strong arms while whispering his name over and over. Loki found his arms hesitantly moving to wrap around the man's neck while he snuggled against him.

"I doubt you are selfish, Thor. You are putting up with an enemy for the peace of your land and people." Loki managed to murmur while Thor continued to cuddle and snuggle against him. He couldn't even imagine what was going on in that ever so inebriated head of Thor's as he continued to speak, clutching his hair with surprising gentleness. But finally, Loki said. "I forgive you Thor, its okay."

He barely got those words out before, very suddenly, he felt lips pressed against his own. Thor's lips were wet and sloppy against his own, smelling strongly of the sweet alcohol he had ingested. Loki didn't know what to do! This certainly hadn't been something anyone had talked to him about! He could only sit stiffly as Thor pulled him closer. It was... Nicer than he expected, he supposed, and as he slowly pulled away, he was very sure Thor would have been able to see his blush, even in the darkness.

"You're drunk, you'll regret that in the morning," Loki whispered, but did not move from Thor's arms. Instead, he sighed and brought the blanket up around them. "You need to rest." After a moment of silence, Loki admitted softly, "I like sadder stories, because yes, I am a little sad, and because I've always been able to relate a little more to them. My father never hid the agreement from me, Thor. I've always known that I would come here one day. To me, the sadder stories made me feel a little better about my situation." It sounded horrible, he knew, but it was how he coped, even as a child.

"It has been... Better than I expected." He admitted softly, stroking Thor's cheek a little hesitantly. "Go to sleep Thor."

Thor pouted, looking through half-closed eyes at Loki's face. He leaned against Loki's touch, not unlike a cat. It was becoming hard to think properly now, the artificial fatigue of the mead washing over his body. His limbs felt lighter than a feather, his chest heavier than lead, and he let go of the other boy, rolling onto his back.

Thor mumbled something he himself wasn't sure to understand, something about beautiful queens and cruel lords of foreign lands. His eyes closed by themselves, and he felt himself drifting into sleep.

The night passed in the blink of an eye, dreamless and pitch black. Thor snored, unaware of what schemes were being discussed on the other side of the palace.

Freyr was a practical man. That was what Kvasir had always understood. He wasn't what someone might call wise, never showing the same interest for art and knowledge as his sister, but there was a quality of thought to the propositions he made during the council sessions. His mind was a logical one, and if it wasn't uncommon to see his judgment getting clouded by the storm of his emotions, the prince of Vanaheim knew how to take the right decisions if he put his mind to it. The law dictated that Freyja, the eldest daughter of the previous queen, was to reign, but it had never kept the prince from intervening in political matters.

Even though he had incredible potential as a king, his interest in leading the Vanir was limited. Freyr only cared about his sister's happiness, had always done, obeying to each and every single of her desires. He adored her, and Kvasir, who knew everything and everyone, had always done his best to silence the rumors about the exact nature of the relationship between the sovereign of their realm and her brother.

Needless to say, Freyr did not take it well when someone made his dear sister cry. Kvasir, impassible as ever, opted not to intervene when the prince, coming back from the banquet, started to break pretty much all the vases present in his room. They had cost the ambassador a certain amount of money, but the best of his personal collection stayed in his villa in Vanaheim. He closed his eyes as the taller man shouted and raged, half-drunk with Svartalfar wine.

"You told me that we needed to act fast! I listened to you! And now Sister had her delicate heart broken by this idiotic little lord who prefers a Jotun dwarf to the pearl of the Nine Realms!"

Kvasir tried not to sigh in annoyance. "Delicate" wasn't a word he would ever use to describe the queen's way of manipulating her entourage to do her bidding.

"Please accept my apologies, your Highness. It seems that I had not anticipated this rejection. I am sure, though, that Her Majesty still wishes very dearly a union with Asgard and the possibility of spreading the influence of Vanaheim over the Nine Realms. For this, I could be of help."

The last of Kvasir's vases fell with a clanking sound over the floor, breaking in two very neat pieces, the Elvish poem written on it cut in the middle. He tried not to wince. Then, without answering right away, Freyr took a few steps toward him, his expression unreadable as he stopped less than a meter from the older man. There was tension in the large muscles of his neck, an undeniable sense of menace floating around his whole body. It was beautiful, in a way, to see the otherwise controlled prince radiating anger and aggression. Kvasir, looking up, smiled.

"And why should I trust you with this? You've already failed me once, Half-Breed."

Kvasir did not like to be reminded of the fact that unlike most of the members of the court, he was not a true Vanir, his ability with the bow largely insufficient and his access to some areas of the palace back at the capital restricted. He made a tutting sound, keeping the smile on, as he raised his hand and passed his fingertips on the side of Prince Freyr's face.

"Because I am the best at what I do and you know it, my Prince. Besides, I have already made the necessary arrangements. Why doesn't your Highness go to bed and wait until they find out tomorrow that this coming of age ceremony might have one of its key elements missing?"

Freyr's expression betrayed his surprise for a moment, and Kvasir's grin widened. This was going to be interesting.