Beneath
Chapter Eighty-Two – Kings
Thor withdrew from the battle reluctantly, taking out two more Vanir before disengaging to let his fellow warriors deal with the rest. Two of the Aesir fighting on without him still had bandages covering wounds that had not yet been properly treated. Thor himself was still hefting Mjolnir with his left hand. He should not be leaving these men.
He'd only returned to the fight some six hours earlier, following a strongly-suggested visit to Eir, a strongly-suggested period of rest, and a strongly-suggested meeting on tactics and strategy with several of his father's advisors. Each was important, he knew. But each was also a source of frustration, something that kept him from where he knew he was needed. And now, to turn his back on his men so quickly…
He arrived, per the summons on the ram's horn, in the expansive Assembly Chamber of the palace, making little effort to hide his foul mood. He was halfway to the long table in the center of the room when he stopped short, realizing to his surprise that the table he'd expected to see no more than a handful of people at was actually full. Only his father's seat, his seat, and one other were empty; Chief Palace Einherjar Hergils was the only advisor missing, and the likely occupant of the other empty chair, according to his quick inventory. Even Heimdall was there, helmet still on, sitting stiffly and looking ill at ease, no doubt anxious about leaving the Tesseract under another's watch.
The sound of boots stepping in unison rose behind him, and he turned, curious enough that he forgot his displeasure at being called away.
Thor barely noticed the eight Einherjar who came to a halt and fanned out to stand side by side and sank to a knee. He barely noticed Hergils, in formal ceremonial armor and a heavy robe instead of battle armor, standing directly in front of them. His eyes were instead drawn inescapably to Gungnir, resting in Hergils's loose fists. Hergils went to a knee as well and held his head and shoulders perfectly level, then stretched his hands out and uncurled his fingers, leaving the staff resting atop his palms. Thor stared at Gungnir and felt his stomach drop to the floor.
His mother was suddenly beside him, and nudging at his side. He tore his gaze away from his father's staff and allowed his mother to lead him away to a spot along the wall near neither Hergils nor the rest of the Assembly. He felt numb.
"I'm sorry, Thor, I thought I could get here before you. It's only the Sleep. He's well," she said, one hand firmly squeezing his shoulder.
Air rushed out of his lungs and he staggered back a step, Frigga moving with him, her hand still on his shoulder. He quickly steadied himself as the world was righted again, the ground beneath his feet again. When he nodded, Frigga's hand went back to her side. They were not alone, and this was not the time for emotional displays. Once the gratefulness that his father still lived had settled, though, he processed the rest of what his mother had said. The rest of what he'd seen. He glanced back over at Hergils, who had not moved an inch.
"The Odinsleep…," he began. "It's barely been three months since the last time he came out of it. Are you sure he's well?"
"Eir's seen to him," Frigga said. "It's very early, but he's not young anymore. And he's been expending an inordinate amount of energy in this war. He was trying to hold it off, but he knew it was coming. He was at least able to get free of the melee before it overcame him."
Thor nodded, apprehension growing again. "And this?" he asked, nothing but his eyes moving in the direction of Hergils.
"We're at war. Asgard needs a king. Not a representative. Not a spokesman. A king."
"Do you swear…" Thor remembered it like it was yesterday, and really, it hadn't been very long ago at all. Hundreds, thousands of people cheering him on while he gave them a show. He'd drunk it all in like the sweetest and headiest of meads. After over a thousand years, finally he was to fulfill his destiny, take Gungnir, and reign triumphantly from the throne of the Realm Eternal. Just like his father. Just like his father's father.
It felt as distant as his youth. Actual age aside, in many ways it was his youth.
"Thor? They're waiting."
He looked over at Hergils and the Einherjar, posture perfect, heads straight forward, then over his shoulder to the table, where a number of heads quickly turned in other directions. They would have expectations of him, each of them. Expectations he would not know how to fulfill. "Do you remember the day I was to become king, when you asked if I was nervous?"
"I do," Frigga said.
"And I said I wasn't."
"Yes."
"I was lying."
"I know."
"Loki asked me the same."
"And did you lie to him, too?"
"I did. I don't think he believed me either. I wanted it, Mother. I wanted it badly. But I was also…"
"I know."
Thor smiled at her, for not making him say it, though he wasn't sure if she really knew or not. Yes, he'd been nervous. In some ways, about some things, he'd been more than nervous. But he was the mighty Thor Odinson, and he did not admit to nerves, and he certainly did not admit to fears. "I wanted that moment," he told her, trying to understand it himself as he tried to explain it to her. "The moment of triumph. I wanted the cheering and the accolades and the recognition. It wasn't…it wasn't about what followed. What would have followed. I knew it would change my life, and I didn't really want my life to change. The night before, Loki told me he thought I wasn't taking it seriously."
"You did give that impression," Frigga said with a hint of a teasing smile.
"I wasn't ready for it."
"No one is ever ready for it, not really. I wasn't, during the Ice War. But I figured it out. And you would have, too. You will."
Thor nodded his acknowledgement of her subtle prodding. The others were still waiting. Gungnir was still waiting. "He asked me, that night, if I could name the Principle Treaties between Asgard and Vanaheim."
"I certainly hope you could. I quizzed you on them again and again when you were nine, before your evaluations."
He laughed softly and felt a twinge from his right arm as he straightened his back and squared off his shoulders. "It hardly matters now, does it? Vanaheim has broken all five."
Frigga angled and dipped her head in bemused agreement.
Thor looked around the room one last time, now with growing confidence. With acceptance of what was to come. "How will I do this, Mother? I'm needed as a warrior."
"You'll do it just as your father has. You'll…" She paused, furrowed her brow for a moment, then continued. "If you so choose, we'll continue as before. You will fight, but every evening you'll come back to the palace, to the Feasting Hall, where you'll have a good meal and an update from me and from your advisors, then undertake whatever tasks are required of you and either return to battle or retire for necessary rest. I will handle the day-to-day decision-making about everything other than battle plans, which you may handle yourself, or delegate to Tyr."
"I would be grateful if you would act in my stead, Mother."
"As you wish…my king," she said with a shallow bow of her head.
Thor took a deep, steadying breath. How he'd wanted to hear those words just a year and a half ago. How naïve he'd been. "This isn't quite the ceremony I had in mind."
"It probably won't be permanent. You can have a ceremony grander than the last when all this is over and when next Gungnir is placed in your hands."
He gave a bracing smile and strode confidently back over to Hergils. The only ceremony he was actually interested in now was a victory ceremony, and that seemed far out of reach at the moment. But if he was to be king, even temporarily, there was a demeanor he needed to project. A show he needed to give. I can do that, he told himself. I have to.
/
/
"Bragi, do you have an update on the efforts of our citizens on… Meava, can we speak openly here?" Thor asked from Odin's chair – his chair now – once he was settled, with Frigga in his former place, and Hergils taking the empty chair after the formal transfer of power symbolized by the formal transfer of Gungnir.
"We can, Your Majesty. The Einherjar have cleared all surrounding chambers and are guarding every entrance, and I have sealed this chamber for sound. And we regularly inspect it for evidence of any foreign objects or magic."
"Good. Bragi, our citizens on other realms, then? Have their efforts yielded more fruit?" Thor had not paid much attention to these plans, especially once the war transitioned from opening salvos to near-continual battle. He would need to be better informed of such things now, even with his mother empowered to handle them in his absence.
"Some, yes," Bragi said with a curt nod. "More protests have broken out on Vanaheim, and it's not just the farmers anymore. As we speak, one is taking place in Tolheim" – Vanaheim's third-largest city – "which may reach 10,000 people, we're told. The death of the servant and the risk to the queen in the throne room explosion had some resonance, but men who swore an oath not to fight being forced to break that oath…for those who believe the story we've spread, and it seems many do, because these men come from different places of Vanaheim so many have seen it with their own eyes, those who believe it are incensed."
Thor shook his head slowly in something close to disbelief. A rally of 10,000 people…all because of something he'd learned in a brief moment of battle, and, left to his own devices, would never have brought to anyone's attention. He would have to do better at thinking beyond the fighting itself. "Could they rise up against Gullveig? Could their warriors refuse to fight?" Could a bit of trickery really have this much impact?
"Not yet. It will take much more. Where thousands protest, millions love their king, or see profit or personal advancement in this, or resent Asgard's position within the Nine. Many millions more are simply happy that the cost of staple food items has dropped because of the glut on the market."
"Though that will change," Trade Advisor Krusa put in. "We've had word that some of the farmers are threatening to destroy their goods."
"At the least," Bragi continued, "we believe it will weaken the resolve of their warriors. I am cautiously hopeful it will do more, but we've also heard that Gullveig is cracking down on anyone with any degree of influence who speaks out against the war. I don't believe you've been told…but Gilla Vedottir is among them. She and her husband have been placed under house arrest, and their visitors are carefully scrutinized."
Thor glanced at his mother; Gilla was his cousin, the daughter of his father's brother. He'd last seen her about a decade ago, a few years after her wedding. A Vanir citizen descended from Asgard's King Bor, she had always kept a low profile on anything remotely political. Apparently that had changed. "Is she in danger?"
"We don't believe so," Bragi answered. "If anything happened to her, it would be an outrage, entirely beyond the bounds for both realms. She's well-liked on Vanaheim, admired, even. It's in Gullveig's best interest to see that she's safe."
"Gullveig doesn't seem to know what's in his best interests. The Vanir protest at the drop of a helmet, and they prize their ability to do so," Thor said, something from some long-forgotten studies filtering up to the surface of his mind. "They won't appreciate voices being stifled. Are our people there conveying that?"
"They've no need to. Those stories are circulating well on their own, and in some quarters, the stories are worse than the reality."
Thor nodded; Bragi continued.
"On Alfheim, our main problem is that King Nadrith is adored. He's young, strong, sensible, and he makes compelling arguments to his people about why joining this alliance against Asgard is the right thing to do. Our people are getting little traction, because their arguments are primarily against King Gullveig. The Light Elves aren't following Gullveig, they're following Nadrith. And Nadrith assures them that others may have shown faults, but the Light Elves have conducted themselves with the utmost courage and honor. And, almost universally, it seems, they believe him."
"When he came here before the war began, I told him I would kill him if he came to Asgard as an enemy," Thor said, his voice a low rumble. With Nadrith it felt more personal. They'd once been friends, of a sort. Not best friends, not tell-all-your-secrets friends, for both men knew they would one day be kings of their respective realms, but friends who understood each other in a way few others could. The sense of betrayal bit deeper.
"You might yet get your chance, Your Majesty," Bragi said. "One of our people said he'd heard that Nadrith sometimes leads his men on Asgard. I didn't believe it, because he'd never been seen, but I asked Heimdall to watch for him."
"It is true, my king. He led a group of warriors, but wore no finery to suggest his status."
"Why wasn't I informed?" Thor asked immediately.
"I found him only after you'd returned to the battle, and he left not long after that. I assumed you would not wish to be interrupted," Heimdall said, his voice as calm and smooth as ever. He added a smile with a bit of a quirk to it at the end, which made Thor marginally relax again, for he'd known Heimdall all his life and knew what that smile meant: Look how well that turned out.
"Keep watch for him, then, Heimdall. Inform me if you've found him here again. I won't complain about the interruption."
Heimdall nodded but Bragi spoke. "I would ask that you not kill him, though, Your Majesty. That would be most unhelpful to us. If he were captured, alive…that could prove useful."
A jest came to mind, about how he would not wish to be made a liar, but Thor held his tongue. He understood, of course, that a captured king was of more use than a dead king, at least when that king was so beloved by his people, and kings – his father, at least – did not make jests at the table in the Assembly Chamber. He motioned for Bragi to go on.
"The situation is far worse on Svartalfheim. We've had to pull back from there entirely. You may recall that one of ours who was there as a Vanir, Dantral Ferison, saw Prince Loki when he was there, and told us about word that an Aesir had killed a Svartalf warrior. We aren't the only ones trying to influence the other realms, we've learned. We were making headway there – they were disgusted that they'd joined lots with a king who would wantonly harm innocents in his attacks – but whatever Loki actually did there, after a couple of small protests took place against the war that story began to spread, and became one of Aesir warriors invading Svartalfheim under stealth and assassinating random unsuspecting Dark Elves. Their population has now turned against us, and they are paranoid about anyone who doesn't appear to be of their realm. I'm sorry to inform you, Your Majesty, but we were too late in retrieving one woman, Jormik Sutadottir. Her mother was Svartalf and her father Aesir. She thought she could pass as fully Svartalf and wanted to stay…and I agreed," Bragi said, finishing over a heavy sigh. "Heimdall?"
"They arrested her four days ago. She will appear before a court in another four days."
"Why haven't we brought her back?" Thor asked, glancing between Heimdall and Bragi. Svartalf justice was swift and severe, and this Jormik would not face hospitable magistrates.
It was Bragi who answered. "Anything we do for her would be an admission of her guilt. And it would further endanger the lives of each of the others we have on Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Muspelheim. It's unpleasant to contemplate, but she knew the risks. All we can do now is have no further contact with her, and hope that she can present a good accounting. She's used no weapon but words."
"We should sit back and do nothing? I can't accept that. I want you to consider it further. Surely you can come up with something. We can't abandon her."
"We have already- Yes, Your Majesty. We will consider it further," Bragi answered.
Thor frowned. Are my father's advisors…my advisors so quick to accept defeat?
"See that you do," he said in a voice that he barely recognized, for he hadn't used it in a long time. A few times perhaps with servants when he was in a stormy mood. With Loki…yes, sometimes with Loki, he realized as more advisors than just Bragi nodded. He hadn't quite realized this before. Was it appropriate here? He shook off the thought, for now was not the time to be trying to recall what tone of voice Odin used in these meetings. "Bragi…," he began slowly, thinking back over everything the old diplomatic advisor, poet, and one-time warrior had told him, "the Vanir are angry that Gullveig forced some of his warriors to break an oath. Could we… Finnulfur," he said, turning to the law advisor, "can you name the five Principle Treaties?"
"Ahhh…my liege?"
"Never mind. Can you confirm that Gullveig has in fact broken all five?"
"All except…no, all of them. Bragi tells me that his guards have arrested Aesir citizens of Vanaheim for no reason other than their race, and that violates the Protection treaty. Yes, Your Majesty, all five."
"And our actions broke none of them, correct?"
"Correct. Odin took great care in this. Gullveig's actions broke them."
"Could we not then bolster this image of Gullveig as an underhanded, unreliable, unworthy…as a dishonorable king who places no value on oaths?"
Bragi seemed to mull it over, and began to nod thoughtfully.
Oblaudur, the public welfare advisor whose responsibilities included education, spoke up. "Their children memorize the names and purposes of the Principle Treaties the same as ours do. The Status treaty takes great pains to make clear that both kings are sovereign over their own realms, and Asgard has never overstepped its bounds in this regard."
"This is true," Finnulfur said. "Yes, it's…not my area of expertise, but I could assist Bragi in preparing a list of arguments for our people to whisper in Vanir ears, laying out all the ways their king has broken his oaths to Asgard."
"And I will make sure his extensive and no doubt footnoted lists make plain sense to those who are not law clerks. It's a good idea, Your Majesty," Bragi said.
Thor sat back and nodded his acknowledgement, while some strange part of him wished to laugh. He, Thor, whose intelligence Loki had always maligned and ridiculed in jests that sometimes grew obnoxious and stale, had provided a good idea to the Assembly. Vafri began to speak, and he thought perhaps he should quit while he was ahead and get back to the fight.
He did not, of course, and instead listened to updates on the slow progress returning the three previously blocked rivers to health, the food supply on Asgard, the trade with Midgard, tactics used in recent skirmishes and their effectiveness, numbers of casualties, the strains on the healers, and the use of Vigdis, who'd been unable to make her last meeting with Brokk because a battle was taking place in the area where they met.
He was taking a report from Fjolvar on the total loss of a small village to Fire Giants' flames – and holding back his anger at not being called in to prevent it, holding it back only because at the time he'd been dealing with an onslaught of Ljosalf archers that were decimating a unit of Einherjar trying to hold off a fresh assault of Svartalf warriors, and angry though it might make him he knew he could not be in two places at once – when one of the Einherjar who'd taken up a post at the main entrance hurried over to Geirmund. The guard whispered something, Geirmund nodded, the guard left.
Oblaudur said that 23 villagers had perished, while the rest escaped; many had already left for the relative safety of the city, as they'd been encouraged to do earlier. Some, though, now had nowhere to go.
Thor massaged his forehead. They all look at me as though I should know what to do about it. His gaze fell on Geirmund, the only person at the table not looking at him. His eyes were distant, directed vaguely downward but appearing unfocused, his chin rested on his right hand, and with his thumb and forefinger slowly stroked the area where copper mustache became beard.
"Perhaps you could appoint someone to handle the needs of the refugees," Frigga said, the only words she'd spoken thus far. "Their numbers are increasing, and these won't be the last. Oblaudur is doing what he can, but we need someone who can give this issue full attention whenever it arises."
Thor nodded gratefully, but quickly realized he still had no answers. Who shall I appoint? Everyone is overworked and short of sleep. He looked around the room again – Geirmund was paying attention now – and this time his gaze fell on Jolgeir. His wince, he hoped, was small enough to be imperceptible. It seemed he turned to Jolgeir for everything now. But Jolgeir was a Palace Einherjar who could no longer defend the palace or otherwise join the fight; he was available. He was also competent, intelligent, compassionate, and Thor trusted him. Jolgeir gave a small nod, then, and Thor considered it settled. "Jolgeir, work with whomever you need to to see to the needs of the refugees and keep the queen informed. Please continue to assist in the Healing Room as time allows. You've been a great encouragement for the warriors you've spoken to there."
Jolgeir accepted the assignment and thanked him, but Thor's notice was already shifting back to Geirmund, whose attention had clearly drifted again.
"Geirmund, is everything all right?" he asked.
The man's head jerked up, startled, and the color of his cheeks seemed to approach the red tinge of his hair. "I, ah, yes, Your Majesty. My apologies."
As Geirmund stammered his response, Thor suddenly had an idea of what the Einherjar might have told him earlier. "Are you sure? Is your wife well?" he asked.
He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder, where the Einherjar had come from. "She's fine, yes, thank you. Ah…apparently she's gone into labor."
Rumblings of surprise and congratulations rose up from around the table, and Bosi, sitting next to Geirmund, leaned over and clapped a hand so heavily on his shoulder that he pitched forward for a moment.
"And why are you still here?" Thor asked once the others' voices died down.
"Your Majesty, my first duty is to you, and to Asgard. I'll go to Dagrun once the Assembly is complete. It's fine, really. It's a first child, so the labor should be long."
Thor shook his head. "Geirmund, there will be many meetings. Far more than any of us would like. Far more than I would like, at least," he said with a chuckle, earning him laughter around the table in the lightened mood. "But your wife will give birth to your first child just this once. Go."
"But…I-"
"Must I make it an official decree? I can do that now, you know. Go, Geirmund. We're almost done here anyway."
With just a bit more stammering, and some prodding from those around him, Geirmund rose and walked not toward the door, but to the head of the table. He sank to a knee and pressed a fist over his chest. "Thank you, Your Majesty. You know where to find me if I'm needed."
Thor nodded but simply swallowed heavily, unable to speak, gripping Gungnir tightly in his left hand. Other than in jest, and in the ceremony where such posturing was required, no one had ever given him this full bow and pledge of fealty before. He watched Geirmund go, cleared his throat, and turned back to face those gathered around the table. "Where were we?"
No one spoke for a long minute, and Thor thought perhaps he could actually conclude the Assembly now. Until Heimdall spoke.
"My king," Heimdall began in preference, and from him, who'd already stood watch over Asgard when Thor's short chubby legs could barely support him, it was a sobering, almost ominous phrase. "Though the World Tree is not accessible to us as it once was with the bifrost, it still connects us."
"Go on," Thor said, though it seemed a strange time for a lesson on mystical beliefs about cosmology. Heimdall was hardly ignorant of what was currently at stake, and he wouldn't take the time to bring this up without reason.
"Earlier today, I heard – saw, really, but it is easier to explain as a sound – I heard Yggdrasil groaning. This wasn't the first time I've heard it in recent days, but it was the first time I was certain that it was Yggdrasil."
Thor nodded, but in truth he didn't understand in the slightest what Heimdall spoke of. The gatekeeper sometimes waxed poetic about the things he saw with his special vision, and Thor had seldom pondered them deeply, but simply tried to appreciate the beauty of them. Yggdrasil "groaning" and sights perceived as sounds was rather beyond him. "What does it mean, Heimdall?"
"I am not certain. It could be a sign of disease in the tree."
He couldn't even pretend to look like he understood that. Thor had seen diseased trees…but Yggdrasil wasn't a tree, not really.
"Or?" Frigga prompted, and Thor craned his head to look at her. She didn't share the baffled look he wore, and that many of the advisors did as well, he realized when he glanced around the table.
Heimdall dipped his head briefly. "Or an indication of imbalance between the realms, perhaps due to Jotunheim's continued instability. It could be one of the other realms attempting to use Yggdrasil for some unnatural purpose, or through some unnatural means. It could simply be from lack of use, for we have never gone so long without using the bifrost. It could be anything. But it can be nothing good. I am sorry, Your Majesty, but there is nothing more I can tell you. It is merely an oddity, but one which concerns me. I will continue to watch and listen."
Thor absorbed as much as he could – little more than agreement that it could be nothing good. Diseases, imbalance, instability, unnatural things…none of this was good. Unfortunately there was nothing – he presumed – that could be done about it while Asgard was at war, lacked a functioning bifrost, and able to bring the Tesseract out only with great risk. "If there's anything or anyone you require, you'll have it. In the meantime, please let my mother know if you hear anything else that concerns you. She'll be acting in my stead, as she has for my father." And perhaps she understands it better than I.
Heimdall agreed, and when Thor asked again no one had further business to bring. He stood, and everyone else scrambled to follow. He tapped Gungnir lightly on the floor; the sound echoed loudly through the chamber. "The Assembly is adjourned." Fists went to chests. Thor looked down at Gungnir, held in his left hand all this time. He needed to get back into the fight, and he already had a weapon. It would be poor timing to try to master a new one…not to mention that proper control of Gungnir required two hands. He turned to Frigga.
"I'll see that it's held in safekeeping," she said, holding out her hands.
He nodded in relief, let her take the staff, kissed her cheek, and went to speak to Heimdall. "Tell me where I should go," he said, Mjolnir now back in hand. His left hand was not Mjolnir's true home, but it was far more comfortable there than Gungnir had been.
/
/
It was May 18, a Tuesday – Jane's day, in the way Loki thought of their schedule. For Loki, it was a welcome though slightly awkward reprieve.
Welcome, because there were no damaged buildings and damaged lives, no gardens he'd once played or relaxed in and thought himself happy, no chambers of a once-brother brimming with memories good and bad but leading ultimately to a defiant journey to Jotunheim that had changed his life forever. Ruined it, he thought. Unmasked the lies, he corrected.
Awkward, because Jane wanted to work from the DSL and the last time he'd been out here with her was when she'd discovered the video Tony Stark had sent and she'd wound up rushing outside without her gear, vomiting, and freezing her hands to a metal rail.
It put a bit of a damper on the atmosphere, and Loki wondered why she'd wanted to come back out here. She hadn't checked on any of her equipment on the roof, and each of the various data streams reached back to the Science Lab in the station via cable. It was Jane's call, though; he was just the assistant. He assisted.
Jane was excited because of some new results she'd gathered that she was convinced would give her a better understanding of the nature of dark matter. Loki was mildly interested, and might have been more interested had he not been occupied with other, more important thoughts.
He'd made a mistake in his "plan" for going to Asgard, in that what he'd done was not deserving of the word "plan." How many times did I berate Thor for getting a stupid idea in his empty head and acting on it without even a second's thought? Too many to count, he answered himself. Thor was utterly predictable in that way, and Loki had taken ruthless advantage of it to prove to Odin that his heir was unfit for the throne. Thor played his part even better than expected, and that plan had gone exceedingly well – better, in fact, than Loki had even wanted, at least at the time. Further than he'd wanted. Much, much further. Months of planning had gone into that one. Years, even, if he traced it back to its very beginning, to his first moment of shock when Odin had announced his decision to step aside and Loki briefly wondered if he'd gone mad to be so unable to see Thor for who he was. He'd watched in outrage and disgust as Thor reacted with endless sparring matches during the day and drunken celebrations at night – the complete opposite of the sobriety and maturity with which one should approach an impending kingship. Thor brushed off every expression of concern and squirmed out of well over half the lessons Odin had set up to refresh his studies and prepare him for the throne, and Loki simply withdrew. It wasn't difficult; the distance between him and Thor had been growing for a very long time, and Thor didn't seem to even notice that he wasn't around anymore at all, except at the lessons, when Thor bothered to show up. They were wasted on Loki, those lessons – they were mostly review, which Loki didn't need, and they were meant as preparation for becoming king, which Loki would never do. So he'd thought. He listened with half his attention, nodding or speaking when necessary, and with the other half he planned.
His decision to go to Asgard and try to draw an unorthodox idea to Thor's attention had been made at something approximating Thor's decision-making speed. And the cost to his control of magic…it was worrisome. The "enchantment" marked on his foot left no doubt – in case Odin's reaction to the book from Nidavellir had – that time travel, in the form of the things he did to avoid detection while undertaking such travel, was considered mischief with bad intent. He could feel the resistance of the energy he tugged at, like trying to lift a heavy but familiar and manageable weight and finding his muscles had somehow weakened. That could not continue indefinitely.
But first, he needed to go back to Asgard. In moments of idleness, waiting for the computer to perform some function before he could continue the work Jane directed him to do, he considered it from every angle he could think of. He had no idea where Vigdis lived; it was possible she was being held in the dungeon, especially if Thor had never noticed the book, but she could still be wherever it was that she lived, or she could have been moved to the palace. If they were using Vigdis, it would be a closely guarded secret, not something he could learn by loitering about the Healing Room or a tavern. He could ask one of those who would know the secret…but in what body, that the person asked would answer without suspicion? He lacked sufficient information to act. He was no longer certain who Odin's advisors even were, he realized, as he recalled a Geirmund having accompanied Jolgeir and most likely Krusa to visit Tony Stark, and Huskol having replaced Jolgeir. Ignorance, he told himself. The term for this is 'ignorance.' He'd been out of touch with Asgard's inner circles for well over a year now.
At one point he thought he'd figured it out, pulling his head up straight so suddenly that Jane glanced his way for a moment before going back to work. He would disguise himself as an Einherjar and go to the dungeons and ask to be directed to Vigdis. If the guards directed him to her or otherwise gave any signal she was there, then he could safely assume Vigdis was not being used against Brokk. Then he realized that if she were serving Asgard, then asking about her in the dungeon risked leading to her exposure, for no one outside Odin's advisors would know she'd ever done anything wrong enough to warrant prison. He detested sniveling little Vigdis, allowing herself to be so easily manipulated by someone like Brokk, but he would not aid Brokk by letting rumors that Vigdis had been imprisoned reach his ears.
Short of walking right up to Thor and asking if he'd noticed a book out of place, Loki could see no way to determine the results of this visit to the past. As soon as he gave up on the idea, though, another idea came to him. Does it matter? He already knew he could change the past. The previous test, the one in New York, had proven that without a doubt, once Jane confirmed that Stark Tower had indeed been hit by an unexplained disaster. He remembered then the van pulling up outside the building, the man with the camera getting out. Midgard's news services had reported on the incident. He would have to look it up on the internet and see for himself. In the meantime, though, he decided that it did not in fact matter what had happened on Asgard. His biggest questions were whether Thor had noticed the book, and whether he'd acted on its contents. That was irrelevant to mastering time, which meant he should not waste effort on pursuing it further.
Even as he dismissed it, though, another idea occurred to him. If he looked like he belonged in the corridors of Asgard's prison cells, he wouldn't need to ask about Vigdis; he could simply look for her himself. Women prisoners were kept separate from men, which would simplify and speed up the search. And he was familiar with the dungeons, having spent some time in a few of its cells himself. It would be a pointless trip, really, and perhaps he would yet change his mind. But he'd seen nothing of the battles. He had no idea how Asgard fared, whether the Realm Eternal faced its end, or whether it had found means of improving its chances despite the odds, means such as a "double agent." He would observe the fighting, he would listen to what he could, and if he learned nothing more than where Asgard stood at some recent point in the past, then so be it. That was important information as well. Decisions loomed large ahead of him, and the more information he had, the better.
With that one small decision made, Loki began to pay more attention to his work, and noticed the time. "The mortals need to eat, do they not?" he asked. It was 1:57, and the galley was no longer serving lunch.
"Hm? Oh… Yeah. So do the Aesir. How about a nice crinkly silver package?" Jane asked, adopting Loki's name for her granola bars and other snacks.
"I'm overwhelmed by your generosity," Loki said with a wry smile, then held out a hand.
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a honey-and-oats one and a chocolate-and-oats one. "Take your pick."
Loki eyed them with distaste, then took the honey-and-oats one.
"Thank God. I was hoping you'd leave me the chocolate one."
"You could have simply said so. It makes little difference to me. They're both wretched excuses for a meal."
"You know you love it. You're just too proud to say so," Jane said with a smirk before ripping into the wrapper.
Loki shot her a withering look and carefully pulled open the wrapper from the end. While "love" would be a strong word for it, she wasn't so far from the truth. These honeyed oat snacks were not entirely different from snacks he'd eaten as a boy, and later on as well, for they were convenient to pack when traveling.
"You must really miss those full-course meals, huh?" Jane said before biting into the granola bar. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, and the chocolate pieces melted in miniature bursts of ecstasy in her mouth. She was so glad Loki had taken the other one.
He pictured the long table, the servants bringing out cold dishes and hot dishes and fresh bread, filling his bowl and plate and glass with whatever he asked for, and the sarcastic retort he'd been about to make died away. "I do," he said. It was just food and drink, after all. There was no harm in missing it.
"What's it like being a prince?" Jane asked a moment later, three-fourths of the granola bar gone already. The rest she told herself she would only nibble at, to make it last longer.
Loki wrinkled his brow as he considered the question. "I might as well ask you what it's like not being a prince. I don't know how to say what it's 'like.' I've only ever been a prince. That is until I became king. I could tell you what it's like being a king, I suppose." He took his first bite of the oat snack, wishing it were fresh, and slightly warmed as it would be on Asgard.
Jane's eyebrows went up and the granola bar went down. "Okay. What's it like?"
"That was a rhetorical statement," Loki said with a brief shake of his head.
"My question wasn't a rhetorical question. What's it like?"
Loki sighed, then considered his response for a long moment. "Disappointing," he finally said.
"That's…surprising. How so?" she asked.
"How so?" Of course "how so." "If you were king," he said after another short moment of silence, "would you not expect obedience from your subjects? Would you not expect their…respect? Their loyalty?"
Jane nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Yes. I would. But I think…I think I'd also have to earn some of that. You know, prove myself to be a good king. Or queen."
"I wasn't king long enough to prove anything," Loki answered sharply. "I would have. I almost did. But it wasn't enough. It would never have been enough. You didn't know I was Asgard's king before I mentioned it, did you, Jane? Thor never mentioned it, hm? A minor, irrelevant detail they prefer to forget?"
"Um, no, he didn't tell me, but to be f-"
"No, he didn't. You don't know how I became king then, do you? Allow me to explain. Odin had fallen into the Odinsleep – it's a very deep sleep, not like normal sleep, and it usually lasts around a week. But this time, ohhh, this time was different, in so many ways. He'd been putting it off, you see, because the ceremony had been scheduled in which he would make Thor king. Quick-tempered, vain, arrogant, rude Thor. But Thor decided he'd rather start a war with Jotunheim than become king, and Odin banished him to Earth for it. When he could hold it off no longer, he lapsed into the Sleep, and what was Asgard to do, then? It was formally at war for the first time in over a thousand years, and its favored son wandered around Midgard, mortal, getting himself captured by SHIELD. Mother…Frigga gave me Gungnir, Odin's staff, and made me king. 'Asgard is yours,' she said. I never expected it. I never wanted it. I never asked for it. But I accepted it. And they questioned me and undermined me from the very beginning. 'Bring Thor back,' they said. But it was not I who sent Thor away. They looked at me with hatred and distrust and they…they thought I orchestrated the entire thing." Loki paused, watched Jane watching him with rapt attention. "I love orchestrating things, Jane. I'm good at it. But I did not orchestrate that. And in the end they utterly betrayed me." He stopped then, waiting to hear how she would respond, which questions she would ask, which ones he would be willing to answer.
/
Thank you, everyone, for reading, reviewing, faving, following. One more chapter down - let's do it again soon!
Teasers for Ch. 83: That conversation ^ continues, and Jane works on putting some more two-and-two's together as things go in a couple of somewhat unexpected directions; Loki follows up on a plan, and, well, his plans never go 100% according to plan. Maybe no one else's do though, either, I suppose!
And excerpt - hard to find one this time that's not either boring or meaningless out of context, or spoilery...:
"Shall I tell you something…gentler about Asgard?" he asked, taking another bite.
Jane sat back in surprise, then swallowed as quickly as she could. "Please do. I'd like that."
