A/N: Thor continues to be conflicted and Loki continues to have delusions of grandeur. Nothing new to report of in the royal family!
Thor cast his glance around, his hands curling into fists. Heimdall was not in the observatory: one more thing to add to his list of frustrations. Granted, this one didn't make top ten with the ones that began with an L and ended with a fist through a wall, but it was enough of an irritation to dent the intricate celestial pattern of the gatekeeper's dome.
Thor sighed, rubbing his knuckles, regretful. Heimdall probably saw that. A childish display of why Thor was not fit to be King, another impulsive action that did nothing but cause destruction. Would he ever learn? Could this temper ever be contained? Were these fists the very reason he has lost his brother to madness, which in turn cost the lives of so many on Midgard? Had there been one punch to many that punished Loki for his boyhood tricks?
No. Thor would not blame himself for his brother's actions. That is exactly what Loki wanted him to do, to feel guilty. Always with the guilt trips, as if he couldn't be bothered to take responsibility for his own selfish ambition. Thor would not feel guilty, not even for what happened on Svartalfheim. If he had it to do all over again, he'd have done the same thing. What, was he supposed to carry Loki's body around in their pursuit of Malekith, in hopes that he might still be alive?
He probably could have at least carried him into a cave, out the elements, then asked Heimdall to send someone for him. Even dead, Father would have wanted Loki returned to Asgard for a proper funeral. A martyr's funeral, like Mother's...
Thor winced at the image, not of Mother's funeral this time, but of Loki's, conducted in the same fashion, a hero honored for selfless acts of bravery. The idea made him ill. It was difficult enough to stomach Asgard's reaction to Loki's death, where Thor had stood at the royal balcony pronouncing his brother as the martyr he believed him to be at the time. He hadn't expected the people to mourn as they did, to actually shed tears for the same prince that tried, multiple times, to murder their Prince of Thunder then proceed to terrorize Midgard.
But what do Asgardians care about humans? They are merely ants to some, weaker beings who depend on technology to show any real strength.
Most Asgardians see not the strength of heart in humans the way Thor does. Even Heimdall, who has watched them over the millennia, does not see them in a proper light. One can only see so much from a distance. Thor could only hope that Jane's short visit to Asgard, a human up close and personal, was enough to plant seeds of altered perspective in his people. Eir had certainly been impressed. As was Mother. But Father, the Warriors, and Sif, they were not. Too proud and too stubborn, which is unfortunate given the power they have over popular opinion.
Sif especially did not seem to grasp the magnitude of Loki's actions on Earth.
Thor's thoughts were about to veer down this particular frustration, but he was interrupted when a hot circle of light swallowed him up, and his feet then sank down into what felt like lush grass. He equipped his hammer. This was not Heimdall's magic.
When the light dissipated, Thor found himself in Idunn's orchard and before him stood Heimdall and Eir. It was Eir's transporting spell that brought him here.
That was a relief. He was in no mood to deal with whatever snakes could be lurking among the apple trees.
"Heimdall. Madam Healer," Thor greeted with a nod, tucking Mjolnir back under his belt.
"My King," replied Heimdall, his helmet tucked under his arm. "You wish to speak with me?"
"I do," Thor said, shifting his glance to Eir. She looked relaxed for a change, the color of her dress one of spring instead of a drab grey, her red hair still pinned up tightly yet shining radiantly under the sun's rays. The lighting in the healing chamber never did it justice. Thor also noticed a few less wrinkles on her face than last time he saw her. She must have been eating the youth-granting apples, something she did seldomly so as not to mislead her students or her patients to just how many millennia of experience she carried with her. That was the reason Father limited his intake as well.
Heimdall, on the other hand, did not care how his youthful appearance contrasted with his true age. No one ever questioned The Watcher's wisdom. It could exceed that of Father's in some areas, which was the very reason why Thor was seeking him out now.
"Do you wish to be transported back to the observatory?" Eir asked Heimdall.
"If it pleases our king, I would prefer to walk back," said Heimdall, glancing at Thor.
"It is fine. I apologize for interrupting your leisure time." Thor knew these moments were rare for the committed guardian and the chief physician, and he felt a little guilty, but his matter was too urgent to keep putting off.
"It is of no concern for a king," Heimdall replied coolly. He then turned to Eir and gave her a more intimate bow then one would with a mere acquaintance. Eir smiled and touched her fingers to his cheek before vanishing behind a wave of light. Rarely did anyone get to witness an exchange like this between these two. Thor felt rather privileged.
Heimdall met Thor's eyes with slightly harder features than he had with Eir. "Walk with me?" He took a step toward the trail before them.
"Certainly." Thor fell in step alongside him, taking in the whole of the orchard as they walked. They passed by a couple of Idunn's handmaidens, lovely young nymphs with massive baskets balanced on their heads. They blushed when Thor smiled at them, so he shot them a wink. That probably wasn't appropriate behavior for a king, but he couldn't help himself.
This was nice. In fact it was ideal. His temper couldn't compete with an easy stroll through the sun-sweetened orchard. He needed this.
"What vexes you, my friend?" asked Heimdall.
Friend. Not King. That was better. More familiar.
"I need you to tell me everything I, as King, need to know." He tried not to make it sound like an order.
"That may take a while," Heimdall said before Thor could elaborate.
"I mean," Thor almost heard himself laugh. "Everything about Loki. What is he scheming?"
"I cannot see beyond his actions," Heimdall said." I can only speculate."
"Tell me."
"He wishes to restore his reputation. That much is obvious. Whether for his son, for Sif, or to earn the throne, I do not know."
Thor kicked a rotting apple that lay in his path. It exploded into a multitude of pieces, splattering droplets of juice, some of which the wind blew back into he and Heimdall. That was not his intention.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner of his deception?" Thor wiped the juice from his cheek.
Heimdall flicked a fragment of fruit from his bracer, pausing before he spoke. "Because you had relieved yourself of duty at that point. Midgard had become your priority."
"Loki had claimed the throne," Thor defended. "He put on my father's face and tricked me in the worst of ways."
"And had he disturbed the peace, you would have been the first to know."
"He has disturbed my peace." Thor hardened his tone. He then had to take a deep breath. "No more secrets, Heimdall. As King, I am to know everything my brother is doing."
"As you wish," was all Heimdall said in return.
"What happened between my departure and Loki's alleged resurrection?"
"He revealed his deception to the The Lady Sif, as well as his knowledge of their son." Heimdall answered dutifully. "He then convinced her to accompany him on a journey to Lygnvi, island of the wolf. They visited Fenrir and attempted to free him."
"Fenrir," Thor echoed, contemplatively. "That is why Sif inquired about him."
"Loki then traveled, via the belly of his serpentine offspring, to Helheim, where I assume he recruited his daughter's aid in staging his resurrection."
Thor blinked, his mind tripping on the image of Loki in Jormungand's belly. Let no one ever claim his brother was predictable.
"You assume?"
"I could not see or hear him when he was in the presence of Hel. That is part of her magic, a shroud to grant privacy to the damned. She uses it when she speaks with anyone outside of her realm as well." Heimdall paused, his voice finding an edge. "Loki has a similar spell. He has used it quite liberally in the past."
Thor scratched his chin, fingers raking noisily through the course hair. Loki was clearly on a path to reconnect with his offspring, but why? "Could he be plotting something with his daughter?"
"It is hard to judge. When he entered Helheim, his body was untouched. When he left, he was critically wounded."
Thor knew little Hela favored the company of her mother over her father. That much Loki had confided in earlier times, when they could still speak to each other as brothers. Perhaps things hadn't gone as planned on Loki's visit to Hel. Perhaps his daughter upheld her duty to punish the wicked, no matter the familial relations or the fact that Loki entered her realm by his own will. Had Loki expected nepotism from her? Had things finally not gone according to his schemes? Part of him hoped so.
He fought back a smirk that was shoving at his cheek, bothered by the satisfaction he was finding in Loki's possible misfortune. He couldn't entertain these petty thoughts. Mother would be ashamed of him. Asgardian royalty does not wallow in vengeful fantasies. The Avengers could, some especially more than others, and they would have just cause, but Thor refused to. He had no choice now that he was King.
"I do not know what to do with him, Heimdall." Thor scrubbed his hand over his face. "I will never again trust him."
"It is a difficult position to be in." Heimdall's tone was soothing, empathetic. "The dungeon is the same as torture to him. Exile is too generous. And execution—"
"Is out of the question," Thor interrupted. "I could never forgive myself. Sif would never forgive me. She wishes to unite her boy with his father, and I cannot in good conscience interfere with that."
Heimdall nodded. "The Lady Sif is making arrangements with Queen Brunhild. They wish to bring Loki to Glasir." His eyes then refocused to a place beyond the path ahead of them. "Actually, it appears Ollerus is making such arrangements. He seems to have inherited the gift of manipulation."
Thor sighed. "Do you understand my frustration at all of this? Even if I wanted to punish Loki, or at least put him on trial and let the people decide what to do about him, I can't. Not now that there is an innocent child in the picture. I will not be the one that keeps Ollerus from meeting his father. However, I worry for the boy."
"No one should keep him from meeting his father," Heimdall stated. "If Ollerus can convince the Valkyrie Queen into allowing the Prince of Mischief into her lands, just imagine the influence he could have on his own flesh and blood."
"But what about the influence Loki would have on him?" That was Thor's biggest worry for the reunion.
"If Sif is not worried, then we shouldn't be either." Heimdall clearly wasn't worried. "She is closer to Loki right now than any of us. Her judgement is what we must trust."
"Sif's judgment," Thor heard his voice ratchet up, "is unreliable right now. She has been deceiving me since my return. She has taken Loki as her lover again. He has her under...some sort of enchantment."
"Sif has not been compromised by anything outside of her own will. If she were under a spell, Eir would know and she would inform us."
Thor opened his mouth but he had not a response. As much as he wanted to he couldn't argue with Eir's judgement. No one was closer to Sif, or kept a closer watch on her the way the Elder did. She was essentially Sif's mother and she loved her like a mother loves a daughter, which made her like a grandmother to Ollerus. She too would want what was best for both of them.
Thor sighed again. "Does Eir not worry for this boy?"
"Of course she worries," Heimdall answered. "In the same way your mother worried when Odin insist she keep the truth of Loki's heritage from him. She fears the ramifications of a prolonged deception on a developing mind."
"What about you, Heimdall?" Thor understood why the guardian was defending Eir, and he wasn't entirely doubting Eir's judgement, but he wanted to hear what Heimdall specifically felt about this situation. Not what was best for Sif, or Ollerus, or Loki. "How does this infectious forgiveness for my brother make you feel? He attacked you when he was King. He forced me to destroy the Bifrost. He eludes your watch any chance he—"
"I am aware of his transgressions against me," Heimdall cut in, his eye twitching slightly. "And to tell you it does not sting my pride to see him move freely about Asgard would be a lie. However, it is my duty to act in accordance with what is best for the nine realms, even if it conflicts with my feelings, and I have yet to see Loki's integration back into Asgardian society as a threat to anything but his own dark designs. That is the enemy I wish to see conquered. Not the son of Odin and Frigga. Not the brother of The Mighty Thor. Not the father of several lost yet hopeful children. But the shadow that was cast upon a soul who was denied a proper identity."
Thor felt a sinking in his chest, deepened by each of Heimdall's words. Just when he thought he could feel no more pain for the memory of his brother, when he believed he had mourned himself dry of that particular emotion, someone always managed to prove him wrong.
"You are clinging to a hope that I've found best to simply abandon."
"Best?" Heimdall countered. "Or easiest?"
Thor stepped into Heimdall's path, halting their stroll, insulted. "There is nothing easy about what I have suffered at the hands of Loki."
"I know." Heimdall remained at ease. "That is why I never faulted you for giving up hope. Even you cannot be expected to win every battle."
"What are you saying?" Thor was trying not to get angry but Heimdall was making that very difficult. "That by abandoning hope I concede defeat?"
"Not defeat." Heimdall's voice remained calm, despite Thor's threatening tone. "Self preservation. You carried the burden of hope for Loki when few of us could. I wanted only revenge while the Bifrost was being rebuilt. Your father hardened himself to keep from returning to the Odinsleep. Lady Sif was not ready to risk the heartache again. Frigga had sent you to retrieve him because there was none other fit for the duty. It was your hope that brought him home alive, and now it is time for those of us to step up where we couldn't before and relieve you of the burden."
Thor stared hard into the seer's eyes, each of his words striking a chord, beckoning him to back down. As always, Heimdall knew his heart, knew exactly what to say to contain the wildfires. His wisdom was as infinite as the heavens reflected in his eyes. Heimdall had watched everything that happened to Thor on Earth, the exchanges with Loki, the alliances formed with the humans, the lessons learned, one very important one in particular. The power of teamwork. If being an Avenger has taught Thor anything, it is the importance of delegation, and of admitting that he alone could not win every battle awaiting him.
Thor placed his hand on Heimdall's shoulder, an act of gratitude where words could not suffice. Heimdall accepted it with a nod.
"Have you made a decision regarding Loki's banquet?" Heimdall asked, easing them gracefully out if the moment.
Thor nodded once, not an answer but a sign of yet another problem that weighed on him. He turned and began pacing, wringing his hands together.
"The people still believe Loki a hero," Thor began. "All they can talk about is his feast, how Asgard is overdue for a proper celebration." The people seemed to abandon all common sense for the promise of free food and drink.
"You will deny them this?"
"I will not perpetuate a lie."
Heimdall nodded, slowly, thoughtfully. He then motioned for them to continue walking. They were nearly at the end of the orchard's path. Thor could see up ahead where it became paved and led into the city. It was nearing dusk and a wash of orange light blanketed the distant spires, casting sharp shadows over neighboring structures.
"Let me ask you something," Heimdall offered as they assumed an easy stroll. "What if the people kept on believing Loki to be a hero?"
Thor shook his head. "It would be a lie."
"On Svartalfheim, did he not save your life and Jane's?"
"It was all for his own gain."
"Which is?" Heimdall asked.
"To trick me into believing he cares about anyone but himself."
"For what purpose?"
Thor felt his frustration returning. "Heimdall, please. I am in no mood for interrogation. Make your point."
"What is the harm in allowing Loki to be praised as a hero? Why not give the people what they apparently want?"
"We would be subjecting the entire kingdom to not only a lie, but an inevitable disappointment."
"Possibly," Heimdall mused. "But I have to wonder about something. Much of Loki's behavior, dating back to his boyhood, is reflective of what is expected of him. What if those expectations shifted him into an heroic light?"
Thor slowed to a stop, casting a contemplative gaze upon Heimdall. The seer stopped a couple steps ahead and turned to meet Thor's gaze, his stance unwavering. The fleeting sun's rays were catching his armor, creating magnificent reflections and highlighting the bold orange of his eyes, putting the hope Thor had abandoned on clear display, making it almost tangible again.
He felt his heart flutter. It frightened him, yet, in an acceptable way, bringing clarity. Not only could he delegate hope to his closest friends, he could trust it in the hands of the entire kingdom.
"I suppose," he couldn't believe he was saying this, "we'll just have to wait and see."
Fools.
That was what they were. The whole lot of them. With the possible exclusion of Sif. She had a valid reason. A very awesome reason that was learning the truth of his parentage this very moment. But the rest of them were idealistic morons that abandoned common sense at even the faintest whiff of hope.
And that was exactly what Loki had himself hoped they would do.
Really, what kind of bleeding-heart buffoonery allowed a repeated-offense criminal, a warmonger, a frost giant, to roam freely through the streets of Asgard? To smile at the townsfolk he passed, wave at their children, partake of their food and wine? Who would allow such insult to the structures of law and order? A realm ruled by Thor, that was who.
Loki couldn't believe it when the raven delivered the message about his banquet. How it wasn't cancelled! He had already been devising new strategies for winning the hearts of people, but now, thanks to his soft-skulled brother, he wouldn't have to. Oh, things were back on track. Better than before in fact now that Sif wasn't burdened with harboring his lies. Her nagging on the issue had become tiresome, even more tiresome than the strength it took his healing body to satisfy her physical demands. By the Great Tree she was an animal.
And he adored it. He craved it. She had only been gone a day and half but he already ached for her.
He was now counting down the days until his banquet where she would be on his arm, adorned like a true lady, capturing the desiring eyes of all those unworthy of her. He would then claim her on that dance floor for all of Asgard's best to witness, summon her untamed affection for him and then confirm publicly with a wordless act from his lips all of the rumors that had been circulating since their recent display in the library. Gaining the reputable Lady Sif as his known lover would put him one more step up the ladder to rightfully gaining the throne.
But first, there was the matter of Hel and Angrboda. He very well couldn't have them claiming Sif for themselves. That was no way to start a relationship with Ollerus, having to explain how his mother was kidnapped and damned to live among the damned. At least that's what he thought Hel's plan was. He couldn't quite remember how she said she was going to come at Sif. Parts of that entire meeting with his daughter had become a blur.
But it was no matter. They would never get past Sif's sword, or his detection spells. He had them planted all over Asgard now, everywhere Sif frequented and beyond, designed specifically to alert him when a hostile being drew close. It was a brilliant work of sorcery: cloaked energy fields designed to read mood and intent of those who passed through them, undetectable by all but him and engineered to alert him the moment a being with criminal intent came within striking distance of Sif. It wasn't perfectly fine tuned to his specific enemies, but if he happened to catch a few petty criminals around the city, it would only prove to bolster his reputation.
Asgard couldn't even fathom the extent to which it needed Loki, not yet at least. Criminal detection was only a tease of what he was capable of in protecting her. Thor, Odin, the Warriors, all of the top generals, none of them understood what it took to be the realm's true king. Loki hadn't even understood it during the short time he had sat upon the throne, but that all changed after he harnessed the enlightening power of the Tesseract. The Chitauri were yet another band of fools that allowed him to roam freely through his ambitions. Not only had they furnished his escape, but they had equipped him with the very knowledge it took to defeat them.
Pity that Earth's Mightiest Heroes hadn't wiped them out completely. It was only a matter of time before the Other amassed a new army and invaded Asgard in pursuit of the Tesseract. This time they would hit hard. Harder than they had in New York. Harder than Malekith had hit Asgard. They would strike with the force of Ragnarok, ally with Surtr if the opportunity arose, fulfill every dark prophecy that no one, not even Odin, understood fully.
Loki was the only being who had the extended wisdom to defend against what was coming. He knew the preparations to make, the alliances to forge, the weapons to build. And he would do it all from Asgard's throne, supported by his people, praised for his brilliance of ruling, and then ultimately loved for the legacy he would leave behind when death finally claimed him. Loki of Asgard would be the king who started a new era across the nine realms, and no one was going to stop him.
Of course, there were always those who would try to hinder him. Try to slow him down the way they always had. He was staring at a pair of them now, dreading whatever asinine reason they had for summoning him to the Undercity's most seedy pub.
"Look who's finally gracing us with his presence," Fandral drawled, swirling the dulling liquid in a chalice too elegant for its contents. There was no way this dive served anything but classless piss. Appropriate that the prattling playboy should suck it down so eagerly. "I suppose a thank you is in order for showing up only fashionably late?" If he was any less sincere, he may just attain levels that would leave Loki mildly impressed.
Loki crossed his arms and shifted his gaze to Volstagg, who was dabbing his greasy beard with a napkin that had clearly mopped up a banquet's worth of food. Disgusting. Although he should at least give the ogre credit for even using a napkin.
"We have some pressing matters we wish to discuss with you," Volstagg said, clearing his throat of whatever slop still clung to it. He then shoved a chair out with his foot, the signal that Loki was to, indeed, join them in this foul pit of revelry.
"Wonderful," Loki responded, claiming the chair without resistance. He figured if he complied, he could get this over with more quickly. "Let me guess," he began. "You are concerned about The Lady Sif and the well being of our son."
Fandral leaned an elbow onto the table, trying to be what? Intimidating? "She is not herself as of late."
"What would you know about it?" Loki snapped to call over a barmaid. He was already bored by this meeting. "How well do you even know her to assume she needs the two of you looking out for her?"
Volstagg huffed, which was actually more of a grunt coming from his gut. "This may be a difficult concept for you to digest, mischievous one, but friends and family look out for each other."
A shapely barmaid appeared at Loki's side, her head an explosion of tight blond curls, her breasts two shimmies away from splitting her blouse wide open. She tilted her head and raised a brow. That was apparently how one said "what'll it be?" in an establishment run by the socially graceless.
"A glass of whatever aged mead requires you to climb on a stool to fetch" Loki said. "In fact, why don't you just bring the bottle." He had a feeling he might need it.
The barmaid slid her glance to the Two, gesturing at their glasses. "'Nother round?" So she could actually speak. Barely.
"Yes, please," replied Fandral with what was supposed to be a charming wink. Gross.
The woman gave Fandral the elevator eye before drifting off. Loki waited until she was gone before resuming the conversation where Volstagg had so pompously left it.
"You speak of family, Volstagg?"
"Aye," replied the bearded beast.
"Of course. You think you're the expert among us on such a matter." Loki shook his head with a scoff. "You have no right to lecture me about family. Not until everything you hold dear has been torn from you shall you even approach a place where you can judge me about family."
Fandral rolled his eyes. "Forgive us if we are fresh out of sympathy for your familial misfortunes. Betrayal can never be justified in my book."
"Your book?" Loki lightened his tone. "I wasn't aware you knew what those were."
"Enough!" Volstagg thumped his fist on the table. "Let us cease the banter and get to point."
Loki threw his arms out in an accepting gesture. "By all means."
The barmaid then returned with their drinks and dealt them accordingly. She brought the bottle of mead, as Loki requested, yet the idiot woman didn't bring a means for him to open it, or even a glass! Typical.
"We know Sif is in the process of uniting you with your son," Fandral said, eyes cast down to his full glass.
Loki dug a dagger out from beneath his tunic and stabbed it into the bottle's cork. "What business is it of yours?" He began twisting the cork out.
Fandral ignored Loki's question but wasn't ignoring his handling of the bottle. He too noticed that there wasn't a glass brought with it so he offered Loki his first glass, the one that should, by all proper table manners, be shattered on the ground.
Loki accepted it, but gave no trace of gratitude. Big deal, a dirty chalice. He shook out the remaining drops of whatever bile Fandral called wine then wiped the brim clean where it had touched whoring lips. The Ancients only knew what communicable diseases dwelled in that body.
"Thor has just informed us of some rather interesting news," Volstagg said, flinching when Loki popped the cork from the bottle. His suspicious eyes never left the dagger. "It seems the Valkyrie Queen is going to grant you passage into Glasir Valley so you can meet your boy."
Loki was about to pull the cork from the dagger when his hands froze. His whole body froze for that matter, save for his eyes, which fluttered in disbelief then lifted to meet Volstagg's glare.
"You heard me right," Volstagg grumbled, breaking their gaze and retreating to his mug.
Loki shifted his gaze to Fandral for verification, which he received the moment the blond goatee stretched with a forced smile then disappeared behind his own glass.
Loki smiled and he felt a leap in his chest. It was unheard of for any man besides Odin to be allowed into Glasir Valley. Well done, Lady Sif. She wielded not magic or the art of manipulation yet she somehow accomplished the impossible. Loki was impressed.
And, oh, how this must be infuriating these two, especially Fandral. To be granted access to Valkyrie lands. All those single women...
Loki filled his glass, smile holding, then offered to fill the Warriors' glasses since they drained theirs so quickly. Funny how charitable he could become when things were going his way. The Two reluctantly accepted, pushing their glasses forward but averting their eyes of Loki's smile, which had spread to a grin at this point.
With a proud chuckle, Loki raised his glass. "Such pleasant news is deserving of a toast don't you think?"
Fandral and Volstagg halfheartedly clinked their glasses to Loki's, still avoiding eye contact. "Cheers," they murmured in unison.
"Cheers indeed." Loki laughed again then took a hefty pull from his glass. It tasted okay, drinkable at least, probably due to his lifted mood, which only heightened when a pair of sighs came at him in stereo. He had to draw this moment out. "You have heard the news that my banquet is still on, correct? Reason enough for a second toast?" He raised his glass again.
Neither of the Two lifted their glass.
"Let us know when you've finished gloating," Fandral griped, "so we can move on to the next topic."
"There's more?" Loki's eyes lit up.
"Yes!" Volstagg blurted. "We're putting you on trial."
Loki lowered his glass, as well as his smile. "Come again?"
"You heard him correctly," Fandral added, reclaiming a little smugness.
Loki watched in both confusion and in budding anger as his elevated mood slide away like the mead sliding down the Two's throats.
"A trial." Loki spoke the word as if it were a childish thing. "You're to put me before judge and jury. By whose authority?"
"By our own, of course." Fandral was really enjoying this, as was he enjoying the mead. Loki now regretted sharing it with him.
"Stop wasting my time and explain yourselves," Loki ordered. He would not let them draw this out like a game.
"You are to be tested," Volstagg explained, "by all three of us. We cannot, in good conscience, allow our King, our comrade, and our nephew to be compromised by you without our consent."
Nephew. How dare they lay claim on his family. His blood! "They do not need your consent."
"Oh, but Thor and Lady Sif have always respected our counsel," Fandral added before finishing his mead and grabbing for the bottle. "You don't mind do you?" He refilled his glass before Loki could answer.
The mead was the least of his concern. The only use for the bottle now was to smash it over Fandral's pretty head. Oh, how tempting that was, but that would be a foolish tactic. Unfortunately, this drunkard was right. Thor and Sif did respect their counsel, which meant Loki had no choice but to play their games if he hoped to step foot into Glasir. Sif could still change her mind.
"What manner of tests have you in mind?" Loki asked, attempting to lessen the edge in his voice.
"Pop quizzes. Multiple choice," Fandral teased. "And a few word probl—"
"And if I refuse?" Loki interrupted, refusing to be mocked.
"Then we will assume you're hiding a darker purpose," said Volstagg, "and we will advise our King accordingly."
"Why not simply ask me, here and now, what you wish to know?" said Loki.
The Two burst out in a duet of laughter. Loki sighed.
"You must take us for utter fools, Silvertongue," Fandral sang through his laughter. "Do you truly believe we will take you at your word alone?"
"Actions always speak louder than words," Volstagg added.
"Precisely," said Fandral. "And until we see you in action, we reserve every right to distrust your intentions."
"Tell me what games I must play to satisfy your simple minds," Loki murmured into his glass. There was no avoiding this.
"That will be revealed at each encounter," said Fandral. "You will first meet with Volstagg who will escort you to his place of residence."
Wonderful. They already had it planned out. "When exactly will this all take place?" Loki asked.
"Meet me at the stables at dawn's first light," said Volstagg. "You will be mine until dusk, where you will then meet with Fandral, here in the Medina."
"Dawn?" Loki griped. "As in tomorrow?" What, they just assume he has nothing planned? He didn't, but he could have!
"You got it, my friend," Fandral chirped. " And then the following morning, you will travel by your choosing to Vanaheim, where Hogun will conduct your final test."
Hogun. Loki didn't like the idea of that at all. Hogun was his least favorite of the three, which often felt strange given he was the quietest, but that was the exact reason why Loki didn't like him. The Grim One was the hardest to read, the only one he hadn't figured out yet. The exotic warrior's stoicism was indeed his most disarming tactic, something he nearly found admirable. Loki felt a chill course down his spine, and not the pleasant kind of chill. This third test was going to be, by far, the most difficult. He wished he could just skip to it. The first two would undoubtedly be a joke to his talents, a mere charade with a side of exercising his patience. These two were no match to his wits, but Hogun...
"Very well," Loki said. "I will play your petty games." He then rose, tilting the remaining mead down his throat and smashing the glass on the floor. "Another bottle for these two gentlemen, please!"
The Two exchanged glances, sharing both their surprise and suspicion.
"We are," Fandral began slowly, "happy to have your compliance."
"We thought we may have to drag you kicking and screaming." Volstagg laughed. "I suppose those days are in the past."
Loki was not amused. How could this swine make light of the incessant bullying he had suffered at his meaty hands.
"Whatever it takes to keep your vile tongues from spewing poison at my son, all because you feel an entirely misplaced and undeserved sense of loyalty to him." Loki kicked his chair in with unnecessary force. "You are no more his family than you are mine."
He didn't wait for a response, just turned and made for the exit. Unfortunately, Fandral's voice followed him.
"Yeah, you may want to talk that one over with Sif."
Bastard had to have the last word, as always. And oh, for the love of...he was still going!
"Stables at dawn," Fandral called out. "Do not be late."
Loki shoved through the stumbling crowd and tore open the exit door, desperate to escape the pair's laughter, an unsettling echo from the past. Nothing ever changed with them. They were the same barbarians that mocked him in his childhood, always getting a laugh at his expense. Their laughter was always present in his mind, even with the distance put between his past and the pub.
Fools. That's all they were.
And Loki knew exactly who was going to have the last laugh.