There was no shortage of excellent places to hone and test one's martial skills on Asgard, but Sif always came to the royal training grounds when she had the choice. She'd probably spent more time there than just about anyone else on Asgard. She had practiced with every weapon, had bested every foe construct again and again, as well as every living opponent. She knew every carved stone, every contour of the natural rock formations they were built around, and she could draw the knotwork etched into the arches from memory.
Located behind the palace, off the waterfalls that flowed out from the gardens, the place was almost paradoxically beautiful and peaceful, but that wasn't what she loved about it. This was where she had proven that even after the Valkyrior were gone, a young girl could still become a warrior. She had conquered this territory and made it her own. Where once she had merely been tolerated, she was now expected and welcomed. It was almost a second home to her.
She particularly liked the training grounds on mornings after great banquets, when she usually had them to herself for an hour or two while everyone else slept late. This was such a morning—at least at first. About halfway through her usual exercises, Loki joined her. She was a little surprised to see him; they didn't normally encounter each other without Thor around, and she wasn't sure it had ever happened here since they were both in training themselves. "Good morning, Loki," she said, not stopping her movements. Perhaps, if he'd forgiven her for walking in on that kiss, he could help her persuade Brunnhilde to come here and spar with her sometime. She was a little wary of making the request herself, but she was itching to find out how well she could hold her own against an actual Valkyrie after all her study of their techniques.
"Hello, Sif." Loki's demeanor was perfectly polite, but centuries at the business end of his pranks had given her an instinct for when something was wrong. Trying not to seem wary, she paused her maneuvers.
"Do you need a sparring partner?" she asked. She couldn't think why he'd be cross with her in particular—unless he hadn't forgiven her for walking in on the kiss, but perhaps if she gave him no additional fodder, he'd find a different outlet.
His eyes narrowed. "You're still doing it," he said.
"Doing...what?" said Sif, a bit confused now. She set the halberd back on the rack and faced him.
"Did you really expect to fool me? I couldn't understand why you were being so friendly all of a sudden, but it makes sense now." He wasn't troubling to hide his anger anymore, she was definitely the target, and it didn't seem to have anything to do with her untimely intrusion two nights prior.
"It does?" It certainly wasn't making sense to her.
"Some tiny part of you must've felt guilty for what you did, so you've been feigning geniality to ease your conscience."
Sif let out a noise of exasperation and crossed her arms. "If you've something to accuse me of, you might get on with it, because I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't pretend!" he spat. "You changed the coordinates to put the Frost Giant on display for the whole realm!"
She bristled. "How dare you! I didn't touch those coordinates!"
"Then how do you explain it? I should've seen it from the beginning on probability alone. A mere malfunction would be infinitely more likely to land us in empty space than a crowded square."
"Well, of course it must have been me if probability says so. However we ended up in that square, I've been friendly to you because I'm your friend, and I felt guilty because it occurred to me I haven't always been a very good one!"
"Oh, and what brought that dazzling revelation about after eight hundred years?" His face was so twisted with rage that she hardly recognized him. Even in Jotun form, he hadn't looked so unlike himself. "We both know perfectly well that the only reason you ever tolerated me at all was so you could be close to my brother!"
"That's not true!" she said, stung. Just because she loved Thor didn't mean she considered any time spent in someone else's company wasted. Loki was part of the group. It simply wouldn't be the same without him. "But I'm glad to know your true opinion of me. I can't believe I was starting to think that you and I were actually similar."
He let out a derisive laugh. "That's good. You'd do better to try it on me sometime when you didn't just learn we aren't even the same species!"
"What does that matter?" she said, flinging her arms up. "We've known each other our whole lives! Aesir or not, you're the only person I know as stubborn as I am. We both would do absolutely anything for Thor, even when he's being an utter fool. Neither of us has ever been what Asgard wanted us to be, but we never let that stop us from fighting for what we wanted for ourselves. Need I continue?"
For once, the Silvertongue had no sharp reply. In fact, he looked rather like he'd been slapped, which saved her the trouble of having to actually slap him. She could hear a rushing noise quite separate from the waterfall, and she wouldn't be surprised if she started seeing red like a berserker soon. She fought to keep her voice under control. It was hard; words had never been her weapon of choice. "I won't pretend I wasn't confused and alarmed when we found you on that ship, but I set the coordinates for Gladsheim just the same, and I never would have done otherwise."
He opened his mouth, but she stepped closer and jabbed a finger into his chest. "I'm not finished! When that wasn't where we landed, I reminded the people in the square that you are their prince. Since then, I've fended off dozens of gossiping idiots who hoped I would confirm some vile notion they have about you for being Jotun, and I even defended you to Fandral and Hogun when they let some of those nonsense rumors get to them, so you're bloody welcome!" With that, she shoved him back from her and stormed away towards the stairs.
X
Bruce hadn't spent a ton of time with the princes since coming to Asgard, but Loki had visited the lab several times to observe the progress on the projects they'd been given and offer some input, and they both usually shared at least one meal in a day with him and the other humans. He liked them. They seemed like good guys, one driven by boundless intellectual curiosity and the other by a heartfelt desire to protect his people (and luckily also the Earth). If someone had betrayed one of them, then Bruce wanted to help. Jane was nervous about getting involved in Asgard's business, but she obviously felt the same way, and Vidar was so insistent on it that he was reluctant to take the time to verify their suspicions before taking action.
They found Agent Romanoff finishing breakfast with a very hungover Erik.
"I was just about to head your way," she said. She smirked. "Agent Barton and I sort of got interrupted the last time we were asking you about your work here."
"That can wait," said Jane. She sat down across from Romanoff. She cast a quick glance around the room, but it was empty except for the five of them. "When you used the transporter to get back to Asgard, did you notice anything unusual?"
"We've run every test we can think of, and malfunction is looking pretty unlikely," Bruce added.
"You're sure there's nothing left to try?" said Erik, voice thick and groggy.
"About as sure as we can be," said Jane.
"So you're thinking sabotage," said Romanoff, going from relaxed to serious in an instant.
"Hopefully not," said Vidar. "But Prince Loki already believes that's what happened."
Romanoff frowned, then shot significant looks at all of them. "I think he's right."
X
Having not found Loki in the palace library or in the royal breakfast room either, Fandral reluctantly headed outside and down to the training grounds. Sif was going to be very superior, but he could stomach a little crow if she could point him in the right direction. He was hoping she'd be able to, given that she'd stayed true to the loyalties they'd both sworn.
He had just gone behind the waterfall and rounded a corner when he was nearly bowled over by none other than Sif, who was stomping up the steps as though determined to crack the ancient stone with every footfall. "Sif, wait!" he said, regaining his footing and going after her. She barely noticed him, even when he drew level with her. He was able to get a slightly better look at her face from this angle and was shocked by what he saw. "Are you—crying?"
"No," she said, with such vehemence that he flinched. She wiped at her eyes with the back of a fist. Were he in better spirits, Fandral would've found that answer ripe territory for some friendly mocking. Instead, he waited for her to explain. It didn't take long. "It's Loki!" she burst out. "Even if he doesn't believe my friendship is sincere, how could he think so little of my honor to even suggest that I would betray my oaths by exposing him?!"
Fandral froze. Oh shit. He'd been too slow. Sif, oblivious to his reaction, carried right on. "He'll learn soon enough that I don't feign geniality for anyone, even a prince." Fandral looked down the long stairs to where they opened onto flat stone, but she chose that moment to round on him with murder in her eyes. "If you even think of lording this over me, Fandral, I'll break your nose, because you're still wrong. His being a complete arse has nothing to do with his species."
"I know…," said Fandral feebly.
She finally seemed to actually see him, and she frowned. "Why is your jaw purple?"
He touched the spot, surprised there was still a mark. Nothing hurt anymore except his stomach, which might take a few more hours to finish healing. "Oh, I had a slight misunderstanding with a few chaps at the banquet who were drunk enough to think putting a certain Jotun in the healing room a fine idea."
"You defended him?"
"I had to," he said.
"Well...good. Now go give him a proper thrashing and tell him he'll get a second one unless he apologizes."
She left him there before he could attempt to ask her anything else. He didn't follow. He was going to have to confess and apologize to her too, but that would have to come second; she might actually kill him if he told her now, and Loki should be the one to get first crack at that.
He couldn't believe what a mess this had become. It was already bad enough the trouble his actions had created (and would continue to create), but it was a wretched thought that Loki had liked or trusted him well enough not to suspect him before Sif, and he hadn't been quick enough to prevent an entirely avoidable breach in their friendship. Whatever was coming to him, he had more than earned it.
X
Loki flung dagger after dagger into a foe construct until it shattered into golden sparks, summoned the daggers back, and waited for the next construct to appear and attack. The simulated match didn't make for a very absorbing distraction, but reading wouldn't have been violent enough and he didn't have the focus for complex spells.
He didn't like being at the training grounds, and he avoided the place when he could. In his childhood and adolescence, this had been where he'd learned what Asgard truly thought of him. The respect his rank demanded meant that people concealed it most of the time, but it was hard to maintain those rules in a setting like this. Many of the boys near his age had taken great pleasure in knocking him into the dirt every chance they got. He always did very well when allowed to use his seidr, but his training required that he be proficient in hand-to-hand combat as well, and it was in those contests that his opponents made him pay for relying on "dishonorable tricks" to defeat them.
His mother had assured him the other boys were simply jealous that he could use his seidr in ways they would never be able to. His father had told him that facing such opposition would make him strong. He was sure they meant well, but it hadn't made it easier to be despised by his peers. It had been the worst whenever Thor had noticed. Every time he fought Loki's tormentors, it only made him weaker in their eyes. So eventually he stopped telling his family and turned to more creative ways to avenge his wounded pride.
"Loki."
His grip on his daggers tightened. "Fandral." This confrontation might as well happen here. Back then, Fandral had been one of the few who hadn't looked at the skinny apprentice seidmadr with scorn. They'd had similar builds growing up, and so the two of them had been paired in matches more often than anyone else. Unlike the others, Fandral had actually enjoyed the challenge of trying to fight against magic, and when Loki defeated him, he lost with grace. In turn, when Fandral defeated Loki, he wasn't cruel or gleeful about it. Perhaps for this reason, he had been the second-favorite target of many of the bullies. They'd both developed significant portions of their signature fighting styles in those matches. It had been the foundation for actual friendship, even if Fandral, like everyone, was still closer to Thor.
And now, just like with the others back then, the training grounds revealed what he really thought of the second prince.
Loki could have dismissed the foe construct straight away, but instead he dispatched it with precise daggers to the throat and chest. Only after it vanished did he turn to face Fandral. The other man was entirely devoid of the conceited charm that normally defined him. He also carried no weapon. Well, no sense in dawdling. "It was you, not Sif."
"Yes," said Fandral, gaze roughly level with Loki's boots.
Loki had worked it out the moment Sif left. He'd been so certain it was her, but he should have known better. Even if she possessed enough spite, she wouldn't have pretended. There was only one in his and Thor's group of friends apart from himself who had ever been halfway decent at lying, and it certainly wasn't Sif. His error had burned up most of his anger and left him with little more than a bitter taste in his mouth and a sick feeling in his stomach. He didn't know what he was going to say to her later, but that wasn't the most pressing problem right now.
"Why?"
"What excuse could I offer? I have none to satisfy myself, let alone you."
Loki rolled one of the throwing daggers around his fingers. "I still want to know."
"When we first found you on that ship, I didn't recognize you. I thought Thor was running to slay the Frost Giant, even after what he'd said about allying with Jotunheim. Then he told us you were adopted. The explanation seemed so impossibly simple that I coul—didn't accept it."
"You think it was easy for me to accept?" said Loki, his lip curling, his grip on the dagger tightening. Without planning to, he suddenly found himself shouting. "You try it! You try going your whole life working hard to gain all the skills and knowledge expected of your position, and no matter how much you excel or how much you accomplish, at best you're only an afterthought beside your brother! Sometimes you catch yourself hating him for it even though you know it isn't his fault he was born first or that he happens to be exactly what everyone wants in a prince."
He stepped closer, voice continuing to rise. Fandral looked horrified, but Loki was far beyond caring what he thought. "You think if you can just be good enough at everything, people will eventually take notice. When they don't, when you keep seeing resentment and suspicion everywhere, you start to get this nagging feeling that something must be wrong with you—and then you learn one day that you were right, because your own flesh and blood were a lie the whole time and you're something your entire realm despises. If it wasn't for my family, I don't know—"
He broke off abruptly. He knew exactly what he would've done if it hadn't been for Thor carefully ensuring that he didn't have to face the truth alone, but this was the first time he'd really understood it for the narrow miss it was. He took a step back as though moving away from a ledge, his breaths coming faster. He thought he might actually be sick. He turned away, fighting to collect himself.
For a long moment, the only sound came from the waterfalls. Fandral was first to speak. "We were standing around the transporter," he said. "Sif had set the destination. There was a pause when no one else was looking. In that moment, I allowed your heritage to outweigh everything else, and I moved one of the rings just enough to put us in the square."
Loki slowly turned back around.
"I spent the next day and a half trying to justify that action to myself." Fandral swallowed, then finally met Loki's eyes. "I failed." There was something in his face that Loki had never seen there before: self-disgust. Without really thinking about it, he dropped the dagger back into his dimensional pocket.
"What changed your mind?"
"There are more people on your side than I think you realize. At first, I convinced myself that they were naive, extending you the degree of trust they would owe to fellow Aesir, not a Jotun who earned himself the title God of Mischief. Particularly after what happened at Thor's coronation. I thought it had to be connected."
The anger that had been creeping back in as he spoke came to a squelching halt. Loki knew why he'd done what he'd done, and so did Thor, but without context, most Aesir would probably call it treason.
"In reality, they were being far wiser than I by trusting you based on their own experience," Fandral went on. "I had a mirror held up to me last night, and I didn't like what I saw at all. I have been unjust and without honor...and a shitty friend." Judging from his bitter little smile, Loki thought there must be some private joke in that.
He waited in case there was more, but Fandral only stood there, shamefaced.
The sounds of marching boots made them both look around. Several Einherjar were coming down the steps. They stopped a few yards in front of them and saluted Loki with fists to hearts. Then the captain spoke. "Fandral Ingvarson, we are here to escort you before the king."
Most of the dialogue in these three big scenes practically wrote itself. It was great. However, I still struggled with the chapter as a whole because it felt like it was missing something really crucial. One of the unique things about fanfiction is that a lot of the groundwork is already laid for you. We know these characters, we know the setting, we know a fair amount about how things are supposed to operate. (I'm actually so used to not having to worry about that stuff that it's the hardest part about writing original fiction.) So when I said "training grounds," I thought I could safely assume everyone knew what to visualize based on that scene in The Dark World where Odin's talking to Thor overlooking Sif and a bunch of soldiers sparring. I wrote the chapter with that assumption, but then I felt stuck. The scenes felt like they weren't tethered to anything, and yet describing the setting would be redundant both for the readers and for these characters who are so familiar with it. But then I realized that if I didn't focus so much on physical features of the setting as its emotional significance for Sif and Loki, the stark contrast in how they view it would make it worth writing about, while also grounding the scenes, and making it all easier to picture. I'm very happy with how it turned out once I incorporated those setting elements.
"Foe constructs" aren't something they ever used on Asgard in canon, but based on everything else we've seen and how much value they place on their warrior culture, there's no way they don't have really cool magical training simulations. I spent like an hour trying to come up with a good term for those things that sounded more magical than science-y, because "training simulations" does not make me think of Asgard. My brother suggested calling them "Faux," and it took me an embarrassingly long time to get the joke, but it might be the funniest thing I've heard all week. Sadly, a French pun isn't much use for naming things on Asgard.
This entire arc for Fandral has been a fairly intimidating challenge, but I feel good about it. I hope everyone's clear that even though I'm not using first person, I'm still using these rotating third person limited perspectives to give subjective interpretations of events. These characters are not always right, and even when they change in positive ways, they might still not be entirely right. Fandral has accepted that he was unfair to Loki and did him a great wrong, but he has a long way to go about the Jotnar in general, and so does Sif. So do the gossiping ladies at the ball. One thing Fandral is right about is that more people are on Loki's side than he thinks.