.-.
Beneath
Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven – Revels, Part One
Loki clapped perfunctorily. It was going to be a long night. He could refuse to participate in the rapturous praise, and even though his seat was next to Thor's and everyone in the hall would notice, any criticism he received for it would be of little consequence. He had nothing to prove here anymore. Nothing to lose as long as he broke no laws, and nothing to gain, either. Clapping, though, was no more than two hands brought together to make noise, and cost him nothing. While there would be no immediate consequences for abstaining, the future was unknown and there was some potential risk in causing the entire Assembly and War Council to question his loyalty. He was lucky, really, that Thor's story about how Brokk died had somehow held up; if it hadn't, he would have been questioned by Odin about it by now. Better to play along , he decided, and not push his luck further.
And then the kneeling started.
He could not kneel to Thor. He could not kneel to Thor.
It was spreading like a wave through the Feasting Hall. Would he be the only one not kneeling? It would look much worse than not clapping. There would be no question of loyalty – only certainty of disloyalty. Evidence to buoy those who thought him a traitor, whether because they still believed he had some role in orchestrating the war, or because he'd returned the Ice Casket to Jotunheim. Was he prepared to make such a stand, or be thought to be making one? Was he disloyal? What a simple concept loyalty used to be! Could he relinquish all hold on his pride just to avoid an unhelpful public perception? A very unhelpful public perception? His chest began to quiver with silent laughter that verged on madness at the sudden thought that Nadrith would rescind his permission to travel to Alfheim, since hosting an enemy of Asgard's throne wouldn't help his clamoring to be seen as having regained Asgard's favor.
Thor looked his way.
Loki met his gaze and hatred welled up and if a hundred men bore down upon him his knees would stay unbent. "The rightful king of Asgard" echoed through his head.
Thor stretched out a hand the instant his eyes fell on Loki, then shifted it a bit so it would not seem to be so clearly extended in his brother's direction. "Please, everyone, rise," he said as quickly as he could get the words out, while frantically searching for some excuse. He caught his mother's wide eyes and drawn face, and grasped onto the first thing that came to mind. "We're here to relax and enjoy ourselves. Let's not have our ladies dragging their fine gowns on the dusty floor. Rise, please." Almost to his seat now, he caught a horrified look on a servant's face, before the young man quickly cleared his expression and looked to the floor. Thor winced. Now he supposed he'd insulted the work of the cleaners. He'd have to remember to issue some form of apology later. Better that, though, than Loki looking like he might burst into flame just standing there.
/
/
Loki's face was still as though carved from stone, but behind him, Jane… Relieved, he thought, even as Breathtaking overwrote his first reaction. Thor had never known a Princess of Asgard; he had no sisters and neither did his father. He knew in a heartbeat though that this was what one looked like. He had always thought Jane beautiful, but in the details. Each of the little things that made Jane Jane. Her open, unguarded expressions, the warmth of her smile, the luster of her eyes, the particular shave of her lips when she smiled, the curve of her hips when he held her close. She didn't typically dress or adorn herself in ways meant to overtly accentuate her beauty, and he liked that, too. She was comfortable being herself, just Jane, in a way that made him, too, comfortable, when he wasn't sure who "just Thor" was. She had certainly looked lovely this afternoon at the signing, but now she set his heart to hammering.
She belonged not in a temporary living situation in New Mexico or bundled up in a land of never-ending darkness. She belonged in a palace. In a throne room. Beside a king.
He gazed at her until she began to look flustered under the weight of his stare and gave a familiar if subdued laugh. He smiled at her, and when he reached his seat, cast his gaze out over the gathered crowd. No matter how much he would rather be alone with Jane, he wasn't, and he had responsibilities here.
"Members of the Assembly, members of the War Council, friends, family. I have no speeches for you tonight. This is not a night for formalities. The last months have been difficult, and many challenges still lie ahead. Let us set those aside for an evening and celebrate our triumph. Let us enjoy good food and drink. Fine poems, old and new. Music, dancing, laughter. Please, everyone, take your seats. And let the feast begin!"
Loki's skin felt stretched so tight across his face that it might tear and split apart at any second. He was facing the table, and couldn't quite remember turning. Couldn't quite remember what Thor had said. "Rise." He'd told them to rise. Loki had been expecting a fight, and everyone around him was pulling out a chair and sitting. Mechanically, he followed suit.
Servants – a veritable army of them – rushed forward with flagons of mead to fill the empty tankards of those eager for the celebration to truly begin. Loki slowly relaxed. The servant at Jane's side was momentarily baffled by her questions about what they would be eating, in place of an answer about what she would like to drink after she declined the mead. When Thor realized what was going on, he, too, was baffled – a welcome moment of levity after the tightly wound tension of mere minutes earlier. Food and drink pairings, he knew she was wondering about, but he wasn't here to translate Midgardian culture for Thor or anyone else; Jane was perfectly capable of doing that herself, if she felt the need.
What he was here for…he had asked himself many times, was still asking himself even though he'd come to a conclusion: Be sufficiently civil to ensure that Jane enjoyed the evening, and that he did not imperil or otherwise limit his future options. Aiding his intent to remain civil was the notable lack of Thor's friends at the King's Table. But he'd always before thought of this table as having some potential benefit to him, an angle to be worked, someone to influence or tease secrets from. None of that held any interest for him now. He was simply grateful that none of those nearest him – with the exception of Thor himself, entirely unavoidable – provoked him with their mere presence.
Half of the servants who'd served their drinks returned to their places near the walls; the other half rushed toward the kitchens, where yet another army swarmed out bearing covered steaming dishes. Green pea soup with a few flavorful cubes of wild boar, the bowl surrounded by a sunburst of roasted carrots, yellow beets, and purple potatoes. Fresh bread was doled out separately from warming trays. Jane liked it all, but seemed particularly enamored of the fresh vegetables, for which Loki couldn't fault her after the Pole. She sipped at a tankard of ale, as well as an etched crystal glass of water.
"What do you eat on Midgard?" Eir asked. "Is it similar?"
"Not exactly the same I think, but yeah, similar. We have all these things. I don't know, I haven't had a lot of Asgardian food to compare it to. What do you think, Loki?"
"Similar ingredients. Dissimilar preparation. They freeze everything first, then defrost it to eat."
"Only at the South Pole. Okay…not only at the South Pole. But there's more of that at the South Pole, because all the food has to be brought in from elsewhere, and then stored for the whole winter season, eight or nine months. It has to be frozen to last. And you know you liked it by the end."
"I didn't hate it by the end. My standards had fallen by then."
"I liked their food. All of it. Pop-Tarts, and coffee – we must try to grow our own beans here. That diner had good fare, and we didn't do so badly making our own breakfast that time, either."
"No, we didn't," Jane agreed as they shared a smile. It was a good memory, Thor actually cooking with her and Darcy. A good memory from a simpler time. A marginally simpler time.
Loki busied himself with his juice glass, conveniently masking his face. They cooked breakfast together? He hadn't known. It had to have been the morning after he'd found them cozying up on that rooftop.
"Oh! And there's an excellent dish they call shwarma. Meat roasted on a skewer that keeps it tender and juicy, then shaved off into a kind of open sandwich, along with some vegetables for color. Very fla-"
Loki's head snapped up at Thor's abrupt silence. Thor was looking at him, but quickly glanced away. Looking guilty. Thor had eaten only one meal on Midgard that was cause for guilt. The one he'd abandoned Loki in a SHIELD prison cell for, weakened, defenseless, easy prey. The one he'd come back from smelling of unfamiliar spices and full of unmitigated ignorance. He grit his teeth and dug into the soup for a chunk of meat.
"It's kind of like a taco," Jane said, solely for Loki's benefit, since nobody else at the table was going to get the comparison.
Mouth full, Loki's eyes rose this time to Jane's. Like a taco? Thor has already had tacos, then? Has she told him she's going to make tacos for him, too?
"Okay, it's not really like a taco. Just that it's meat and vegetables in a…what did you call it, a container? You eat it like a taco, more or less."
"I see," Loki said, forcing a smile for Jane's sake.
"I've missed meat."
Everyone turned to Edny, Bragi's wife, seated beside Loki.
"Well, I have! We've had very little of it, and most of what we've had is from before the war, dried meats."
"Dried here," Loki said, "frozen at Midgard's South Pole. I've missed fresh meat, too."
Eir's husband Skolmur joined in, then, too, commenting on the hunt that had been arranged for this feast, and Loki was reminded of how much he'd always liked both Edny and Skolmur. Edny was a good woman who had always been kind to him, like a dear aunt, and while he felt little need to converse with her now, when she spoke to him he could find no enmity in his heart against her; she was undeserving of the anger he'd leveled against Asgard. Though Loki didn't know him as well, much the same was true of Skolmur. It was disconcerting, but not in any negative sense. Someone had clearly taken care to ensure that seated nearest Loki were those he found least objectionable. He had the passing thought that he hoped his mother had made the seating decisions and not Thor, before throwing himself into the new turn of conversation.
Thor ate and drank in silence for some time, at first barely aware of what was said. He had recovered from the near-disaster of his entrance – and Loki seemed to have, as well – only to make a stupid thoughtless mistake. He was accustomed to telling stories, but he knew there were now stories he couldn't tell, not the way he once did. More likely, there had always been stories he shouldn't have told as he did, and it simply hadn't occurred to him before. A meal he'd shared with his weary friends while he left his brother behind, oblivious to Loki's fear and his expectation that Thor would stay with him and defend him when Loki was unable to defend himself. There were now even stories about food he had to guard his tongue on. This night, he thought, was proving be more challenging than he'd anticipated.
/
/
"I've got most of the adjustments figured out now, and even this I manage myself when I'm home…but at the King's Table it might be considered impolite, so instead my lovely daughter lends her kind hands."
The conversation at the end of the table had drifted to its end, and Jane and those around her turned their attention to Jolgeir, a little further down the table. Thus far, Jane had only had the opportunity for a brief introduction to Jolgeir's family at the table.
"I wish it hadn't happened so early. I would've liked to have had the chance to fight with you," said a burly man sitting beside Bragi, with biceps to rival Thor's and long dark hair in a cacophony of little knots and braids.
"And I you, Tyr. It would have been an honor."
Jane filed the name away. It was getting hard to keep track at this point, but she recognized that one from mythology, which helped.
"I, too," Thor said, raising his glass in Jolgeir's direction. "Though I fear old habits would have overcome you, and you would have disengaged from your own battles to come protect me in mine."
"You may be right," Jolgeir said with a laugh, "except I imagine you need protecting less than anyone else on Asgard."
"Not true! I nearly lost my arm to an invisible Dark Elf in battle."
"Ah, but you still defeated him in the end," Tyr said.
"No, my friends, I did not. I didn't know it at the time, but Loki was there, too."
Loki watched Thor in a daze, wondering where exactly he was going with this and how bad it might get.
"Loki didn't know exactly what was going on then. He had been cut off, and had only just found a way to reach Asgard. He was investigating, and he saw the battle, saw that Dark Elf's cowardly attack, and he came to my aid. I had been weakened, my right arm was nearly severed, it had no feeling and no function. Loki struck down the invisible elf before he could land another blow against me."
"You were at that battle, Loki?" Tyr asked. "No one saw you."
Bad, Loki thought, answering his own question. He turned back to Thor and fixed him with a mocking expectant look.
Thor hesitated, but only for a few seconds. He hadn't told this story to paint Loki in a bad light, and he didn't want to back himself into a corner where he could tell no stories involving Loki. He didn't have to lie. He just had to paint it in the right light. "Even I didn't see him. He had cloaked himself from sight. Don't forget, my friends, at the time some wrongly suspected Loki of being in league with Svartalfheim. He was misjudged, but he had to act cautiously. Remember also that had our enemies spotted him, they would have thrown all their efforts into capturing him. Loki was wise to keep his presence a secret under the circumstances. And in doing so he may well have saved my life. I wish I could have seen it, though. Harder to tell the story when so much of it was behind a veil my eyes could not penetrate."
"And when you passed out in the middle of it," Loki said, because this was in fact his story, not Thor's. Thor hadn't had a clue what was going on at the time. Loki didn't care to tell it himself, though; he simply hoped to steer the conversation past Thor's effort to salvage what had started out casting him as a coward for lurking about while invisible, just like the Svartalf assassin. Before he could change the subject, though, Jolgeir's daughter Dagny spoke up.
"How did they save your arm, Your Majesty?"
"You know, I'm not sure. As Loki pointed out, I passed out," Thor said, doing his best to hide his embarrassment over the fact. The phrasing, which had certainly been a deliberate choice, smacked of weakness. "Eir, can you tell us? Was a healing stone sufficient?"
"It was not. The damage was severe. You were lucky you had an arm left at all. And Dagny, if you'd like to learn more I'd be happy to tell you. Come see me in my office one day. The dinner table isn't the best place for it."
Dagny nodded, but her attention was still on Thor. "If you were missing your arm, would you get a false one?"
"Dagny," Jolgeir chided even before she'd finished her question, while his wife reached across him to place a hand over their daughter's. "I apologize, Your Majesty. We've been talking about this at home."
"It's all right," Thor said, aware that they were gaining the attention of more and more of those at this table. "I don't know the answer, Dagny. I would have to take some to think about it. Just like your father."
"I'm still thinking about it. At first I didn't know how I would get by. I can admit it now; I was afraid. My legs were fine but I could barely walk, it threw off my balance so badly. I am getting by, though. I've grown accustomed to it, and I am for the most part content, although there are things I'll always miss." He leaned over to kiss the top of Dagny's head. "I always wanted to join the Einherjar, but I've been honored to have opportunities to serve in other ways as well. Important ways, I believe. Replacing my arms as though it never happened…it would be easier in some ways…but it doesn't seem right."
"About that," Loki began. It was in his report, but there was no harm in mentioning it here, too. "What if a compromise was possible? A way to restore functionality without hiding the loss of your arms?"
"What sort of compromise?"
"Do you remember that running leg that Amos had? The one that looked like a curved blade?"
Jolgeir nodded; further down the table, Loki saw Finnulfur nodding, too.
"Could we not design something similar, but in our own way? Something that takes full advantage of magic and mechanics and medicine, that provides nearly natural functionality, but without the look of flesh? Metal, perhaps. Something that could in no way be visually confused with a natural arm, yet can hold a fork as well as one? Or a hand? Even a sword, perhaps? In such a design the sacrifice would still be evident."
When he finished, he realized how quiet it had grown at their table; a glance down the length of it found that the discussion had by now captured everyone's attention.
"It wouldn't be the same," Dagny said.
"No," Jolgeir agreed. "It's not possible for it to be exactly the same. But that's the point of the idea. If you can't make it exactly the same, if you can't simply heal it, but you still want to regain function, then…you make it as different as you can. No hiding what happened, as though you were ashamed of it. It's an interesting approach. What do you think, Tyr?"
Loki, too, turned with interest toward Tyr, seated halfway down the table from him. Everyone here liked and respected Jolgeir, even Loki, if at more of a distance. He was responsible and genial and kind and, though the last time Loki had seen him fight was too long ago to count for personal observation, he would not have reached the position of Chief Palace Einherjar if he wasn't a skilled, fearsome warrior. Everyone at this table would tiptoe around the matter, anxious not to impede upon or insult Jolgeir's opinions with their own. Everyone except Tyr, who said exactly what he thought, no matter who he happened to be talking to, up to and including Odin himself.
Tyr didn't answer immediately, continuing to chew as his eyes drifted with thought. "This isn't a question about you. Not you alone. Hergils would know the exact number, but you aren't the only man who lost a limb in this war, merely the only one who lost two."
"Not just men," Eir put in. "One woman lost an arm, and another her hand, in one of the attacks in the city."
Tyr nodded. "Every Asgardian is meant to be able to defend the realm. As you are, how are you to defend Asgard? If these…prosthetics would give you that ability, then I think you should have them. Those who lost just one arm, too. A man who has two functioning arms can lift two swords to fight again for Asgard. Or a woman," he added with a nod toward Eir.
"I hadn't thought about it in those terms," Jolgeir said as Tyr lifted his tankard and drank.
"A mark of sacrifice has merit," Tyr continued. "We do well to honor it, and it's fitting that everyone who sees Jolgeir is proud of him. But what good does that truly do him? What good does it do Asgard? Monuments and museums are nice…for those interested in that sort of thing," he said with a chuckle, quickly joined by others around the table who knew that Tyr was not among those interested in that sort of thing. "But Asgard isn't served by a living monument to sacrifice."
Loki fell into stunned silence, the same stunned silence he suspected everyone else had, too, with the probable exception of Jane, who would not recognize the subversive sentiment of Tyr's words, or the significance of the fact that they came from Tyr, Asgard's most celebrated warrior, at least among those who did not carry magic-imbued weapons. On second thought, though, perhaps such an opinion should be least surprising coming from Tyr. On Midgard, Jolgeir had spoken about holding his daughter. Others at the table, Loki was certain, noted how his daughter assisted his eating and wondered how he had adapted to other aspects of daily life. Tyr, who had trained both him and Thor for years, had trained Jolgeir, too, thought first about the ability to wield a sword.
He had learned a great deal about prosthetics, and three men who used them, on Midgard. Now Loki thought he'd learned something about Asgard, or perhaps simply about himself. He'd kept himself distant from this debate, in a sense. He'd served as a cultural interpreter for the Midgardians and Asgardians, and Thor's reluctant errand boy and note-taker, uninvested and thus uninterested in the outcome. Now he was. There was nothing sacrosanct about traditional Asgardian views on the matter; Tyr was right. There was no glory in injury itself, certainly not so much that any man at this table wished he was in Jolgeir's place. That would put Asgard right in line with Jotunheim, carving up their own chests just to be able to show off the scars.
"I am swayed by Tyr's argument," Loki said, though he knew that his support of a subversive idea would hold far less weight than Tyr's. "We don't require visible marks to recognize our warriors' bravery and honor. We have storytelling for that. Poems. Tapestries, even." His gaze drifted down the table, toward Odin. "What say you…Father? You lost one eye fighting the barbarian Jotun king. What would have happened had you lost two?"
"I was just considering the same," Odin answered, voice steady, eyes fixed on Loki at first. "An Asgardian king is expected to lead his warriors in battle. Had I lost both eyes to Laufey…I would have had to find some means of restoring my sight…perhaps through magic of some sort, if it's possible. Or else step down from the throne. I was lucky that I didn't have to make such a choice." His eyes returned to Loki's. "That I was still able to see."
Nice try, old man. The implication was perfectly clear. But it was a false one. Odin's ears had led him to an abandoned baby, not his remaining eye. "You looked so forlorn." The memory gave him a shiver, but Jane's voice thankfully redirected his attention.
Jane spoke up then. "Do you have the technology…or the magic…to make prosthetics that good? That someone could fight with it the same as with a biological arm?"
All eyes fell on Eir, who looked first to Jolgeir's young daughter. "I couldn't say for certain. We've never attempted anything like that. I would have to speak with metal sculptors, and certainly with Maeva. We would do it in our own way, but I do think we could improve on what's available on Midgard. I'll look into it. Then if there's a desire to move forward, we won't be starting from zero."
"Thank you, Lady Eir," Jolgeir said. "And everyone, thank you for your thoughts. For your support. I'll consider it. We'll consider it," he amended with a glance to his wife. "Perhaps the idea can be shared with the others who were similarly injured."
Conversation drifted, and Jane was asking Thor about the second course – peppery pheasant cooked with apple cider, bacon, and some kind of onion whose name Jane didn't recognize – when unexpected movement caught her eye, something black swooping down toward her. She gasped and ducked, instinctively wrapping her hands over her head. When she looked up again, two black birds had perched on the back of Thor's chair, one behind each shoulder. One gave out a loud squawk, then the other let out a series of them. The first stretched out his head and slid his beak under a gap in Thor's armor at the top of his shoulder; Thor gave a loud grunt of pain then reached up to shoo the bird away. It made a few higher-pitched sounds as it fluttered its wings, then settled back on its perch, lifting and lowering its feet in a way that Jane thought looked anxious. Hugin and Munin, of course. She couldn't help her smile, even though one of the birds had clearly just bitten Thor.
"No more of that, Munin. I am king now, and I'll thank you to leave my flesh and my hair intact. Behave yourselves, both of you. I'd like you to acknowledge that. You gave yourselves away on Midgard when you interacted with Lady Jane; I know you understand me and are perfectly capable of signaling so."
Hugin hopped down onto the table, followed by Munin. Jane's smile grew nervous as two pairs of beady eyes looked right at her. Before long, both swung around to look at Thor, and bobbed their heads. Jane flinched when Hugin suddenly flew at her, landing on her shoulder. She craned her neck as far away as she could but otherwise held herself still.
"He won't hurt you, Jane," Thor said. "Hugin, her hair stays attached to her head."
Hugin cawed loudly – Jane winced, for it was right at her ear – then started pecking at her earring, sending it swinging back and forth. She looked toward Thor, to find a small smile forming and some of his tension fading.
"They like small shiny objects," he explained.
"Hello, Hugin. Nice to see you again. You too, Munin," Jane said.
Munin bobbed his head once, while Hugin kept pecking at the earring. Munin then hopped over to Thor's arm and climbed atop his bracer, where he gave another squawk.
"The All-Father is at the other end of the table. You'll have to give your message to him."
Munin took off, and Jane jumped at the sudden flutter at her left ear when Hugin followed.
"Don't look at me like that."
Jane looked up to see Loki pursing his lips and turning away, toward the far end of the table.
"You don't understand them, either," Thor continued.
At the other end of the table, Odin held out his arm just in time for Munin and then Hugin to alight there. Everyone watched and waited; Jane saw even a few heads at other tables turning their way. A minute later, he lifted his arm a bit and the birds flew off toward the balcony.
"Hugin and Munin bring word from Vanaheim," Odin announced, just loudly enough for those at the table. "Gilla Vedottir is well. She has not yet attempted to venture from her home, out of concern over the continued political tension, but she does not believe she's in any danger at the moment."
"For Lady Gilla!" Bragi called.
Tankards went up around the table along with a broken chorus repeating Bragi's words; Jane grabbed for her own – full of strong beer, or ale as it was uniformly called here – and hurried to follow suit, taking a good swallow and setting the tankard down again. Servants rushed forward and Jane realized she still hadn't done it correctly, since most of the others had downed their drinks. She glanced at Loki, remembering his advice to be careful with what and how much she drank. Whatever Loki himself was drinking, of course, it wasn't alcohol, and he'd still downed his own glass, judging by how much the servant was refilling it with.
"For peace!" called Bragi's wife Edny, seated next to Loki.
Up the tankards went again; Jane again stuck to a generous swallow, no matter how much she could drink to that. Servants swarmed the table again, and Jane sat back and laughed at the whole thing, probably aided by the ale she'd already drunk. She hoped there wouldn't be many more of these Asgardian toasts.
"You're wise to partake in moderation, Jane," Eir said. "There's no requirement to drain the tankard."
Jane thanked Eir in relief, then turned to Thor and Loki when the toasts stopped there. "Vedottir. So…your cousin?"
Thor nodded. "Gilla. She lives on Vanaheim, and Gullveig had her put under house arrest. We've been worried about her, but there was little we could do."
"And the ravens? They didn't land in any of the food, or touch any of it. And they're in Earth's mythology, from a thousand years ago. Are they even real birds? Or…some kind of magical creation?"
Thor turned to Loki, who gave a long-suffering sigh before answering. "They are both. They are ravens, probably more long-lived than yours, but they were enchanted long ago by…by King Bor, near the end of his reign. Ravens are intelligent birds as it is, but the magic King Bor wove into them made them more so, and yes, they know their manners."
"When they choose to," Thor said drily, bringing a forkful of pheasant to his mouth.
"They have long delighted in tormenting Thor. I can't imagine why. Outrageous behavior, really."
"When you were children the ravens showed interest in you both. No biting, though," Eir said. "Since then I don't believe I've seen them pay any particular attention to anyone other than the All-Father and you, Your Majesty."
"They usually ignore me. I can't say that I mind," Loki said with complete indifference that was completely false. He did mind, and always had. Perhaps no one else around them but Eir had recognized it, but it had never been lost on him that it was only the king and his assumed heir the ravens acknowledged in any way. Loki may as well not have existed. And now this, of course, like everything else, took on new light. Loki was not a true Odinson, not Aesir at all. Hugin and Munin surely knew. They ignored him because he was irrelevant. He'd taken a half-hearted shot at one of them with a stone once; the bird had hastily taken wing to avoid being struck, then picked up the stone in its beak and carried it off somewhere without a glance backward.
"You're better off, Loki. Better to be ignored than for them to decide your hair would make an excellent addition to their nests. Don't think I don't remember your cackling when Munin made off with yet another clump of mine."
"It was entertaining. But I'm certain I've read in a reliable source that blond hair is far superior to black in the building of ravens' nests."
"If they'd asked, I would have been happy to snip out a few strands for them."
Loki busied himself with his pheasant to ensure he kept his thoughts to himself. "If they'd asked." You wouldn't understand them if they asked. Yet they've always preferred you, the king who doesn't carry Gungnir and can't understand the messages they bring. It was a dangerous line of thought. Sitting at this table brought up nothing but dangerous lines of thought. Who deserved the throne, who was worthy of the throne, these questions were no longer germane. Thor had the throne, and even if he lost it again – something Loki didn't consider an entirely unlikely prospect – Loki wouldn't be gaining it. Now outside the line of succession, if he took Asgard's throne he would be usurping it…unless he argued that Odin had usurped it from him after Thor threw him from the bifrost…
He stiffened, cast an angry look at Thor, then faltered. Let go. You let go. He caught Jane's eye, realized she was watching him. She looked concerned. He drew in an unsteady breath and feigned a smile that he thought must look as strained as it felt.
"So, um…why do you think they paid attention to me?" Jane asked, gaze flickering from Loki to Thor.
"Hugin and Munin clearly appreciate rare beauty," Thor answered with a grin.
With Eir chuckling beside her, Jane smiled bashfully. Thor was trying to be funny, but there was an intensity in his eyes as he spoke, even in his voice, that had a primal effect on her.
It was too much, Loki thought, nausea again tugging faintly at his stomach. Eventually servants would stop bringing food, eventually it would become appropriate to rise and leave the table. Until then, he was stuck with this. Thor and Jane, and Thor, plus a few hundred people at an event he didn't want to ruin for Jane, and his own mind that wouldn't shut off and that apparently he couldn't even fully trust without stopping and questioning himself. It was too much. But he would manage, regardless. In the end he always did, no matter how much he was made to bear.
"Beauty aside," Loki said, pulling himself together, "ravens are curious birds, and you're a curiosity. They've been to Midgard, of course…." He faltered for a moment, remembering that mountain Thor had tossed him down on. Yes, tossed, he thought, quickly checking himself. He'd seen the ravens there, had heard them cawing, and he hadn't needed a close view of them to know they weren't random black birds. "But you're probably the first mortal they've ever interacted with directly."
Jane was nodding when two lines of servers appeared from the kitchen, pouring out one after the other, each carrying an enormous silver covered platter piled high. The dishes they'd already had must have been the Asgardian equivalent of appetizers. The platters quickly filled all the free space down the length of the table's center, steaming meats and vegetables, and as soon as they were all down drink pourers stepped in this time offering more warm bread in white and brown varieties. Everyone else started filling their plates, reaching with forks and even bare hands, so Jane stabbed a few things, too, though she was already getting full and knew she wasn't going to be able to keep up with the Asgardians in food any more than in drink.
"Look, oranges!" Edny exclaimed, stretching over toward a platter that had been placed directly in front of Loki. Sizeable chunks of meat were piled high on it, but Edny's fork came back with a thin round slice of orange.
"Has Vanaheim already resumed trade?" Eir asked in clear surprise.
"No," Bragi said, peering around his wife to better see Loki.
"This is Loki's doing," Thor said, skewering a substantial piece of meat and dropping it on his plate. "One of his demands at the negotiating table."
"Most generous of you to share them, my prince," Bragi said.
"For Loki," Eir's husband Skolmur called.
Loki nodded his acknowledgement, quickly scanning the table. Most at the other end hadn't heard Skolmur speak, and some of them, Odin and Frigga included, were looking his way, no doubt curious as servants rushed forward to refill tankards. On this end of the table, everyone had toasted him, including Thor and Jane, with the absurdly small sips she was wise to stick to. It was satisfying, in a way, to be acknowledged like that, guilelessly, though he hadn't done it for anyone's thanks and wouldn't have volunteered that he had provided the oranges. This feast, in his mind, was for Jane, and he'd simply not wanted it to be hindered by the lack of so many foods on Asgard at the moment.
"Delicious," Thor declared with a grin of utter satisfaction. "Orange-glazed boar," he continued with a nod to Jane. "Our chefs have put Loki's oranges to good use. The best I've eaten in months." His smile changed then, his gaze returning to and lingering on Jane. "Except for the cheesecake."
"Cheesecake?" Eir echoed.
Loki observed for a moment, his eyes telling him more than his ears. Jane, explaining what cheesecake was to Eir, was blushing. Thor was watching Jane. Loki hadn't seen that look on his face often, and not for a very long time, but he recognized it nonetheless. Desire.
The idea sprang to mind, nearly fully formed, in the next second. "Bragi," he said, loudly enough to catch the man's attention.
Bragi turned from whatever he'd been saying to Tyr.
"I heard you've had a couple of earthquakes here, despite the fact that Asgard doesn't rest on the fragmented plates that are the typical source of such tremors."
Jane's culinary lesson trailed off, and everyone who'd heard him turned their way. Including, he saw out of the corner of his eye, Thor.
"Yes, an odd series of events," Bragi agreed.
"It was frightful," Edny said. "With everything else going on, suddenly the very ground beneath your feet cannot be relied upon? During the one that we all felt, I was working in one of the temporary childcare centers. Everything was shaking. I was afraid the building would collapse. Some of the children were crying…it was awful."
"Fjolvar told us that our structures weren't built to withstand earthquake forces, since…well, since as you say, earthquakes shouldn't actually be possible here," Bragi explained.
"How very mysterious. And concerning. I gather we still don't know what caused them?"
"There's a theory, that it's somehow connected to heavy use of those Svartalf portals, but that's really no more than a guess. Vafri plans to investigate, though. Asgard's natural environment advisor," he added with a glance toward Jane.
"I'm glad to hear it," Loki said, giving a strong nod. "It's too dangerous to ignore. We can't sit back and simply hope that it doesn't happen again, after all."
/
Hey, thanks as always to all those favoriting, following, commenting, and so forth! I guess I haven't said it for a while, but it's always true!
Guest (Feb. 3): Thanks so much! That's awesome to hear. And, hold tight, where it's heading at the moment will be clear soon. / "Elevenses": Glad you like Loki's mischievous side because here it is coming out again...ha. Yeah, Thor's certainly in the right "head space" to be willing to do whatever it takes to mend things (whether he can follow through if/when push comes to shove who's to say, but the intent is absolutely there), and that leaves that ball largely in Loki's court at the moment. Glad you enjoyed the W3/Sif scene; with them I'm always trying hard to remain within their canon characterizations but really expand on it and make them more three-dimensional. Jane is aided by having been in lots of situations where she was the "outsider" or even the "outcast," whether the only woman or the only one holding to a particular theory (or both!); she's learned to hold her head high and be confident in herself regardless. Me, I'd surely be with you!
The next chapter is really just the continuation of this one (I was forced to break them because the length grew to literally two average-length chapters), and I'll have it out in the next day or two. Previews: The "fun" (depending on whose shoes you're in) continues, and there are all sorts of people present who are worth meeting.
Excerpt (And if you're wondering where that excerpt is that I provided in the previous chapter, well, it actually comes from "Revels, Part Two" - that was before I divided the chapter in two. This bit is actually from the same section as that.):
"She's a traitor. She did indeed make poor decisions – her decisions. Being weak is no excuse for that. But she's also underage. That is a mitigating factor. Asgardian law is applied differently to youths than to adults," Loki said for Jane's benefit.
"I've spoken to her as well," Eir said, "though not as much as I would like, or as much as she needs. She's better served by compassion than pity, I believe, even if the difference is only in connotation. And she should have your compassion."
