When Odin woke, days later, Frigga filled him in on the news.
The guards and warriors had sworn to Thor, but many of the nobles not, either stating that their fealty was to Odin still, or demanding detailed individual treaties laying down all rights and duties. Since the commoners were represented by their respective fiefdom lords, that meant half or so of Asgard's population were not under Thor's rule currently.
A matching part of the army had dissembled as a consequence, drafted men returning to their families' farms or seeking employment elsewhere. An upsurge of robbery was to be expected. That always happened with a lot of young men on the loose.
Worse yet, while negotiating with some of the recalcitrant lords (who claimed they couldn't quite see why they should pay taxes to a king who spent his time hunting dragons on other realms), their eldest had cancelled the reception for the crafting guilds' representatives. A grave insult. Even commoners could be petty about such slights.
„The bakers refuse to deliver to the palace for the time being." said Frigga, feeding her still bedridden husband lukewarm porridge. He made a face and pushed the bowl away. „The weaponsmiths swore and are working on all orders, we are their major customer after all." Frigga continued, offering another spoonfull of the dreadful concoction. „But most of the sorcerers and witches are on strike, most noticeably the keepers of the mead goats and resurrectable animals, the telecommunication illusionists, and the magic dry cleaners."
„Is that so?" ('Keep talking, Odin, anything to stall this breakfast.')
„I'm afraid yes. Apparently, Loki was honorary member with the witches, and the milkmaids too – even I didn't know that; must have been from the time he was so infatuated with Freya he worked for her brother. Well, in any case, he had several godchildren whom he sponsored in the lower ranking guilds. Thor called them a bunch of trolls and Loki their mother when they came complaining. We've been out of meat, bread and mead for days now. No milk or butter either, I am sad to say. That's why Fulla cooked the porridge with plain water. So would you please just eat, dear, without making a fuss, because we don't have that many clean shirts any more? I fear I gave the boys' old bibs to Volstagg some time ago. Thanks."
Drat. The wise god gave in and swallowed.
The former king refused to see his successor before fully recovered. When he finally felt well enough, he entered an empty hall. Or functionally empty, anyway. A lone Dwarf was working on the ruined throne, filing and measuring, superficially guarded by a few Einherjar. The guards stood at attention when seeing their former king approach (in his second-best presentable robe, reasonably clean and only once slept in).
„Lord Ivaldi, well met!" Odin boomed. „How kind of you to help us here. So good to see you. It has been a while, hasn't it? Are your sons well? Please let me welcome you to Asgard's halls anew!"
The old Dwarf rose and dusted off his hands. Standing, he nearly reached Odin's shoulder. Long beard aside, he still strongly resembled his daughter, who had married to Asgard and was one of their most powerful goddesses now – same broad built, chubby cheeks and snub-nose. Golden teeth gleamed when he smiled.
„Thank you, but please don't go out of your way for me. The queen already welcomed me most courtly. If you don't mind, I'll get on with my work. I'd like to be done before dinner. Idun is baking apple pie as we speak." Not waiting for a reply, the crafsman turned back to the throne. Dwarves were like that.
At the thought of apple pie, Odin's mouth watered. He swallowed. „Let me thank you then, in the name of Asgard, that you came to our aid so swiftly. I'm sure my son, king Thor, will host the feast that you deserve as soon as can be done. You must bring all your family and retinue."
„Ah yes," Ivaldi replied over scraping and chiselling, „the king asked me to pass you his regards. He's off to Midgard or somewhere, I think, with half the treasury to purchase wines and delicacies for the feast he'll entertain the Vanir with. We Dvergar of course come later."
By the Norns, what a blunder. Of course Asgard always received the delegates from Vanaheim first, long-standing allies that they were, but telling the magic craftsman who repaired your throne that he did not merit entertainment? Ivaldi would forgive the slight; he loved his work and his daughter and would want the kingdom Idun lived in working well. To which Odin would see these next days.
But first: Heimdall.
„The king is in the town of Oslo, Midgard. The Bifröst touched down near Tønsberg as usual, but to his majesty's dismay, the only shop there selling wine, called Vinmonopolet, was closed for inventory. Thor, with Sif and the Warriors Three, then made his way to Oslo, where they traded gold rings and vibranium ingots in a pawn shop for local currency. They spent the night in an inn called Grand Hotel since the Vinmonopolet stores were already closed for the evening. The local lord, one Harald Olavsson, did not receive them; or rather, his underlings mistook the king of Asgard for a jester and refused to admit him. Thor graciously decided not to call down lightning on those mortals since they are still under our protection. Sif reminded him of that."
Odin blanched during the gatekeeper's monologue. How could that be? Had Thor not conducted many diplomatic missions in the past, talking many a dignitary into favourable treaties? „And what of Loki? How fares he?"
„The liesmith has long learned to evade my gaze."
What? Impossible. Or if that was true, why had Heimdall not reported earlier?
„No major chaos has broken out anywhere, so he might as well have gone lost between the branches." the guardian said, slight glee leaking into his stoic face. „Should I spot him, I will let you know if that's your wish."
Of course it was Odin's wish! What father wouldn't want to know where his son was? He said so. The gatekeeper's answer was unexpected.
„Worry not, your highness. Was this not the perfect opportunity to rid the realm of the Jotun runt, now that he turned out worthless for your plan, since Laufey bore another heir? Too clever for his own good he has always been, a threat to lord Thor's throne. Asgard is a better place without him."
For millennia, Odin Allfather had trusted Heimdall's judgement. That evening, he sent Hugin and Munin out to catch up on developments and look for Loki.
A few days later, the former king returned to the citadel from negotiations with some country nobles. He was patting himself on the shoulders, figuratively, for talking one of them around to swear to Thor, just for the sake of continuitiy. The other would at least send fresh vegetables to the town markets once more, not charging extra for cross-border trade.
When Odin entered the hall (not his hall any longer, he reminded himself), he nearly stumbled over a wine bottle. The old god bent down with some difficulty and picked up the offending item. Château Lafite Rothschild, the label stated in one of Midgard's sets of runes. The thing was uncorked and empty. So Thor had returned, but not sent to let his father know. Odin's mood soured.
He waved one of the servants over who were listlessly trying to clean the floor and tables without the aid of magic, mostly just smearing some grime around. The man was only too happy to drop his mop and instead answer his former king. „My lord! Welcome back to the citadel!" he bowed.
„Guðmund, tell me, what happened in my absence? Who feasted here, and where is everyone?"
„My lord, the guests from Vanaheim arrived, save for the royal couple and the princess."
Of course. King Njörd had not been seen outside his own realm since his second marriage. He held some grudge towards Thor, ever since the young man, while on a monster hunting quest, had accidentally hooked and nearly killed his pet snake.
„King Thor treated them to wine, mylord, but we are still out of food worthy of the high table." the servant carried on. „When the requests for food grew louder, lord Freyr graciously invited his countrymen over to his own house, and the king and company went with them."
Odin resisted the urge to facepalm. Well, Freyr was generous and loyal, so no harm should come of it. Ever since moving to Asgard (running away from an arranged marriage to Alfheim, according to the rumours), the god of farming had been an advocate of peace and stability in the councils. So unlike Hogun the Grim, his cousin, who would probably inherit the Vanir throne. A warrior to keep an eye on, that one was; thankfully Asgard-raised and a good friend to Thor.
„Erm, and lord Freyr sat on Hliðskjálf, sire." the servant mumbled. „The dwarf ..."
„Lord Ivaldi." Odin interrupted him sternly.
The man cringed. „Apologies, sire. Lord Ivaldi repaired it. He returned to Dwarfheim … Nidavellir, and sends his regards. We didn't know where you had gone to, sire, so king Thor tried to use the throne to look for you and send message about the feast, but had some difficulties with the magic vision. He said ..."
„What did he say?"
„He said, sire, that a warrior like him can't be expected to know how magic items work."
But … but … decades of tuition? Hadn't Thor passed all the tests? Vaguely, Odin recalled Frigga telling him some famous and horribly expensive teaching witch (Karnilla?) had quit because of one of Loki's little pranks – when he'd written an exam in Thor's guise. But that had been long ago. Before the old god could ponder more, Hugin and Munin returned, cawing. He dismissed the servant and listened to their report.
They had searched Alfheim, where they knew 'magpie fledgeling' rented a tree-house in Myrddin's academy of magic, but he wasn't there. Nidavellir they had briefly passed, Nornheim and even Midgard, before thoroughly searching caves and crevices all across Jotunheim, to no avail. From there, they had now returned to report they had seen Skirnir, Freyr's right-hand man, at the mountain cottage of one Gymir the Bellower, asking for his ice maiden daughter's hand in marriage on Freyr's behalf.
Oh dear, a Jotun in Asgard. The girl would be friendless and miserable, everyone knowing of her heritage, even if she was a shapeshifter like many of the small-born Jötnar were. (Good thing no-one but Heimdall knew Loki was adopted.) Unless perhaps Freyr was planning to reconcile with his father and move back to Vanaheim, where Frost Giants were held in more regard – particularly since king Njörd had married one, queen Skaði: once an orphan, now goddess of skiing.
On a whim, the former Allfather sat on his former throne. The magic thrummed. Good as new.
He resisted the urge to look into Freyr's mansion where Thor was likely sleeping off last night's mead, along with all the court and company. (Freyr, of course, had his own mead goats, ale sheep, fields and whatnot, so no shortage.) Such was the way of young men, sometimes overdoing it, but never was it a pretty sight.
Instead, the one-eyed god turned his magic gaze to Vanaheim, starting with the palace. Where he found the royal couple and their daughter, princess Sigyn (grown now and an exotic beauty: sky blue skin, dark slanted eyes, black hair swept up into a bun with mother of pearl combs and hairpins). They were sitting in an inner courtyard, artfully planted with blossoming vines and tiny potted trees, talking to thin air.
Just as Odin was watching, the princess poked something invisible, giggling. The air blurred, revealing Loki – cyan blue, red-eyed, Jotun markings on his hands and face, wearing a black scholar's robe. Queen Skaði – in her Jotun form as well – said something apparently encouraging, and Loki looked up from his hands, to smile timidly at the princess.
She beamed at him and filled him a cup of tea, chilling it by magic in her hand until it formed a star motive ice crust. He answered with illusionary butterflies.
The old god turned the magic vision off and rose. He had some urgent good news to tell Frigga.
A/N: End of story. I'll leave you readers with this hopeful outlook rather than try to write tedious centuries-long Odin self-reflection of flawed parenting, and family reconciliation.
Njörd is the god of the sea in myth, so I took the liberty of attributing that giant water snake Thor so loves to fight to him in this fic. Since Marvel!Vanir seem to look Asian like Hogun (who should belong to the nobility, or he wouldn't hang out with Thor), Njörd should too, I thought.
And yes, Loki wrote all or most of Thor's exams on magic or other complicated topics, glamoured as Thor.