Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Chapter 26: Sons Of Privilege
By the time Thor entered, dressed in his best with armor gleaming and teeth bright, the great hall was crowded with guests, many of whom had been brought from the many cities in Asgard by his father for the celebration. Though there were a great number of people present, the room had never looked larger, and the thunderer had never seen so much food in all his days. Three long tables, all laden with goblets and baskets and plates, surrounded in their entirety by the guests, all laughing and smiling and joking with one another. But all that quieted down as the Allfather called their attention to Thor, who blushed a bit out of embarrassment.
The king announced that his son had proven himself innumerable times in battle, that it had been shown that not a man in Asgard, nor in the worlds beyond, could match his strength in the heat of conflict. With the hammer held tightly in his fist, Thor raised it above his head, prompting the room's occupants to cheer and applaud for a time before returning to their own affairs.
"I am proud of you, my son," Odin said to him, hands set about his shoulders, and Thor nodded. "Now, take great care of your responsibilities, and continue to prove yourself."
With those words, the king was swept away by Frigga, a genuine smile upon her face as she looked to Thor, and the two of them disappeared off into the crowd as upbeat dance music began to play. With Mjolnir strapped to his hip, Thor too set off to weave between the groups, smiling and thanking those who congratulated him on sight. Though this was all greatly appreciated, he would have been perfectly content in spending the evening with his friends and brother.
As the thought passed through his mind, Thor felt himself being lifted from the floor, Volstagg's great arms wrapped about his waist as he bellowed with laughter. Had they been alone, Thor would have found means with which to topple the man over, start a scuffle and come out the victor of the wrestling match. But he only smiled, clapped the bearded warrior on the arm as he was set back down again, embraced by the small group with whom he was proud to share his life.
"A great accomplishment," Hogun said with a straight face, and Thor laughed again. "You ought be proud."
The others voiced their agreement and he thanked them, turning right around expecting to see Fandral standing there with a beautiful maiden. But the man was absent and Thor turned his head every which way, standing on his toes in an attempt to find his friend through the bustling crowds and dancing couples at the center of the room. As he dropped back onto the flats of his feet again, Thor felt a hand playfully slap the back of his head.
"Well done, old boy," Fandral told him, and gave him a pearly smile. "You are like to be the most popular bachelor in all of Asgard!"
The others snickered, but Thor's face remained still, peering back over each of their shoulders and wondering just where in the world his brother was. He hadn't said anything that morning, nor in the afternoon, but he had hoped that, though he had said otherwise the night prior, Loki would keep true to his word and show.
A sigh escaped him as a surprised Hogun was quickly tugged towards the dance floor by a young girl, her dark eyes gleaming. The stoic warrior turned his head slowly, mouth still pressed into a thin line as he stared at them, perhaps silently asking what he was meant to do. Volstagg grinned, held fast to Thor as though he were a young woman himself, and the two of them mimed a fabulous dance, stopping only to laugh as the man was pulled hurriedly away from them.
"I wonder how he'll fare," Volstagg said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. "Poor Hogun won't smile for a damn thing these days. Honestly, I believe that that poor girl is better off dancing with the likes of Loki." Thor felt a pang in his chest. "At the very least, he'd charm her far more than the Grim ever could. Make her feel wanted."
Thor didn't laugh, but swallowed that taste that had entered his mouth again, wished it would go away for once.
"He's madness himself, really," Fandral said, elbowing him in the side. The man's eyes darted towards one end of the room. "Your brother."
The thunderer frowned slightly, pushing golden hair away from his forehead. "What do you mean?"
The blond warrior shrugged, the metal of his armor clacking together slightly. "Why, didn't you know? He's here, slinking about in the shadows and trying to go about unseen." He pointed, and Thor's gaze followed the invisible trajectory of his hand. "Last I saw him, he was skulking about behind the curtains."
Not a word was spoken as Thor moved away from his friends, pardoned himself as he bumped against the guests. The thick red curtains parted as the prince slipped between them, wondering how he hadn't thought to look for his brother. It was probably meant to be a game, to see just how much Thor paid attention. As he moved further along behind the great length of fabric, Thor caught sight of a shadow on the wall, heard the heavy sound of metal striking the floor, and rolled his eyes with a smile.
Loki never learned.
Turning the corner, there they were, Loki on his back atop the green cape and Sigyn struggling to rid him of the rest of the armor, the helmet already discarded. Thor leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, making a humored face as his brother's head struck the floor hard and he cursed, the woman's hips shifting violently downward.
"At least you came," Thor said, and Sigyn scrambled to her feet, a dark blush upon her fair cheeks.
The thunderer put on his most serious face, took a few steps forward and leaned over, tugging Loki upright. He looked dazed, and teetered a bit before steadying himself against the wall. The trickster cocked his head to the side, gave Thor a mildly sheepish look. As much as he wanted to, Thor did not smile. It would be much more fun if he held out.
His brother swallowed as Thor's fingers curled around the hand grip of the hammer, tugged it from his hip and firmly laid the head of the weapon against his open palm. Loki's eyes went wide as he backpedaled, a nervous laugh upon his lips.
"You don't understand, Brother," he said, raising his hands and stepping away. "It wasn't my... I... She jumped m–"
Thor growled, surged forward and grabbed Loki by the shoulder, knotted his fingers into the green fabric and pulled. He snarled, struggling not to laugh before leaning in, their foreheads meeting for a split second before Thor broke into a grin, shoved Loki back and watched him stumble. The perplexed look that his brother wore was well worth a bit of extra patience. Even Sigyn didn't seem to understand just what had happened.
Mjolnir was returned to its position at his hip, and Thor bellowed with laughter, bending down to catch his brother's helmet by one of the horns. He tossed the thing to Loki.
"Why in the Nine Realms would I be angry with you?" Thor asked, and Loki's expression changed as he pieced it all together with lightning speed. "This is a party, Brother! You are expected to have fun!" Thor raised a hand, waved a finger at the two of them. "But not that much fun."
Loki smiled, ran a hand through his hair. "You're an ass," he said, "scaring us like that."
"And you," Thor retorted, "are missing out on all the fun." He spread his arms wide. "Go, dance, socialize, enjoy yourselves!"
"I don't dance," Loki told him curtly. But the look on Sigyn's face insisted otherwise.
"Oh, you don't?" she said, and his brother turned to stare at her. The woman reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear and made a face. "Well, in that case, I suppose I had best go find someone who will."
Loki's jaw dropped and, before he had chance to say a word, Sigyn hurried off and out of sight.
"I hate you," he huffed, and Thor laughed.
"Fear not, Brother," the prince said, and pulled Loki along behind him as they emerged from the hiding place beyond the curtains. "There are plenty of beautiful women who would be more than pleased to have their hearts stolen by a charmer such as yourself."
The trickster's lip curled as he arched a brow. "Charmer? Please, tell me that you are not comparing me to the likes of Fandral."
"Thor!" His head turned then, eyes darting among the many faces in the crowds until he spotted his mother as she waved him over.
"Get going," he told Loki, and jabbed him with an elbow. "Have fun. And don't let me find you hiding back there again."
# - # - # - #
Honestly, the most satisfying bit of the entire celebration was up on the high ceilings as Loki leaned back in the chair, waving a hand about as the colored animals burst from the tips of the flickering candles, soared about leaving faint trails and sparks behind them as they moved. He smiled to himself as the lion roared, startled an elderly woman into dropping her wine to the floor. After messing around with Sigyn, who now seemed content to ignore him because he refused to dance, Loki supposed that this was the next best thing.
The buzz of the people around him meant nothing, even as they moved behind the back of his seat, occasionally bumping into it as they went, offering hurried apologies. Eventually, Loki grew weary of entertaining himself with the illusions, hopped briskly out of the chair and moved to the window. It still snowed outside, making the celebration appear all the more bright. He rolled his eyes and walked along the edge of the balcony, eventually sitting down so as to slip out of the room and into the white gardens. Better to spend time with dead plants than a multitude of people he cared nothing about.
As he dropped, began to lower himself out the window, someone stopped him, tugged hard on his arm until Loki climbed back up again. He was irritated to find that it was Sif.
"What is it you want?" he demanded, settling for leaning against the column of the archway. "Come to lecture me on my propriety yet again?"
Sif crossed her arms, did not bother to give him an answer as she sat beside him.
"Why is Sigyn dancing with that man?" she said, and Loki groaned.
He peered across the room towards the dance floor, made a face as the woman laughed, seemingly enjoying herself in the arms of a complete and utter stranger. From the look of him, his attire, he was certainly not of the royal city, probably having come with one of the companies from the far side of Asgard. Loki snorted. What with that ridiculous smile on his face, the man looked to be one with a character similar to that of the foolish Fandral. If the bastard made one wrong move, he thought, the prince of lies wouldn't hesitate to rid the palace of the man's presence.
Beside him, the warrior woman smiled wide, raised a hand to her lips as she chuckled.
"And what is this I see?" she said, drawing Loki's eyes to her. "Do I detect a bit of envy in your gaze?"
"Shut up," the prince growled, and wove his fingers together as he hunched over.
But Sif, clearly enjoying his discomfort, would not be silenced. "You think yourself better than him," she pressed on, and Loki tensed as Sigyn laughed, rested her head on the bastard's shoulder. "You despise the idea that your chosen partner is enjoying herself without you. Quite honestly..." She leaned closer, until her breath in his ear sent shudders down his spine. "You can't stand it."
That was enough.
Grinding his teeth, Loki scowled, swept across the room and through the tightly packed groups of people until his hand closed around Sigyn's wrist, pulled her, right in the middle of the dance, away from the man.
"And just what do you think you're doing?!" the stranger demanded, jaw slack and eyes aflame. "Who in the name of Valhalla do you think you are?!"
Loki hated being made spectacle, couldn't stand being caught up in the middle of the ostentatious tradition of wild parties and celebration. He hated all the fuss, would much rather be left to his own devices, left out of the loop, than forced to play his part in the charade that was expected of him by his father and mother. But this, as he had so hurriedly decided, was a completely different matter.
"Hold your tongue," he snapped, and laid a hand against the man's chest as he advanced, shoved him as though he weighed nothing. "And keep your hands off her."
It didn't matter that a great number of the guests were staring, that the music had all but stopped and that the dancers had moved quietly off to the side. Loki didn't care that he looked the part of a spoiled prince. More than once, this woman had sworn herself to him, in more ways than words alone. And, under no circumstance, would he permit any other man to lay hand upon her.
He turned, Sigyn's eyes wide and hovering somewhere between admiration and complete disgust.
"What are you doing?"
Keeping his hand on her, Loki sighed, moved to touch her cheek. "You are mine," he told her, and there was a telltale sign of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You'd do well to remember that."
The trickster stumbled forward, bristled as the stranger advanced, shoved him from behind.
"A better question," Loki spat, turning to deftly catch the back of the man's knee with a boot, "would be if you know who I am?"
"Enough!" Sif shouted, and came to stand between the two, to give the now shaken man a chance to compose himself. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she caught Loki by the chin the way his mother might have. "Stop this. You are making a scene!"
Sure enough, nearly every eye in the room was upon him. But Loki snarled, pulled back and slapped her hand away.
"And what good are you doing the situation?! None, so far as I can see!" He pushed her back several steps, until she nearly tripped over the man who still sat wide-eyed upon the floor. "What right do you have to lecture me on propriety, when this is your doing to begin with?! We wouldn't be having this damned conversation if you'd just kept your mouth shut!"
There was a stunned silence, the faint echo of a distinct sound as Sif's head turned sharply to one side, her eyes wide.
Loki's jaw dropped, breath caught in his throat,. He cursed inwardly in complete disbelief of what he'd just done. She was sure to have seen that, his mother, and there would no doubt be a tongue lashing waiting for him once the festivities had ended, for he had dared to do the unthinkable, raised his hand to strike a woman. The pounding of heavy footsteps drew near and Loki shut his eyes, face contorted into a heavy frown as Thor, without even a word, threw an arm about his neck and pulled, dragging him all too easily out of the room.