Author's Note" Alright friends, here is chapter four. I apologize for posting this so late, I was severely under the weather.

Chapter four is steeped in reverberations of grief—the kind that does not announce itself in wails of anguish, but instead settles like dust in the hollows of a person's soul. Loss does not simply arrive and depart; it lingers, reshaping the architecture of the heart, leaving behind empty spaces where love once resided.

Ivan's recollection that he shares with Loki is more than an elegy. Per usual, Loki is an unwilling audience to this sadness and finds himself standing on the precipice of familiarity.

Time for another discussion about names (yay):

Egil (pronounced EH-gil or EYE-gil): This name is of Old Norse origin, derived from the word "agi," meaning "awe" or "fear," combined with the element "vil," which can mean "will" or "desire." It can be interpreted as "awe-inspiring" or "one who is feared". Why is this so important as it relates to my fanfiction? Well, Egil is a strong, traditional name linked to Viking warriors and implies a someone who is both revered and sightly intimidating. Sounds familiar, right? Well, keep reading.

Sunnvia (pronounced SOON-vee-ah): This name also derives from two Old Norse elements like "sunn" (meaning sun or sunshine) and "via" (meaning way or path). Together, Sunnvia can be interpreted as "path of the sun" or "way of sunshine". This name is very bright and optimistic, perfect for the woman who brings hope and clarity to Egil.

So why is all this so relevant? Wellllllll, while Sunnvia evokes an illuminating presence, this contrasts well with her husband Egil (Who Ivan says Skyggeengel (aka Loki)) reminds him of. The two are young men who struggle with darkness, uncertainty, and internal divergence. Thus, the names Egil and Sunnvia represent opposing archetypes that balance each other.

Alas, the song "Saturn – Sleeping at Last" from the playlist I provided in chapter one is the song I would consider the theme song of chapter four. At its core, this chapter explores the inexorable tether between the living and the lost.

Thank you for allowing these words to reach you. As always, I welcome your thoughts.

Kindly,

LilacRenaissanceWoman

Uncrowned and Forsaken

By: LilacRenaissanceWoman

Chapter Four

Ivan's hand fell heavy on Loki's shoulder as he guided the young man inside the warmth of their home. The faint rasp of his breath was the only sound in the still air, and it broke the silence with an almost reverent quality, as though the very act of being brought back into the fold of this house was a transgression in itself.

Loki's feet shuffled reluctantly across the threshold, as though they could not make up their minds between the welcoming hearth and the door that still stood ajar behind him. He cast one last glance over his shoulder before stepping inside, the rigid air of the elements still clinging to him like a second skin. The door swung shut with a soft thud, closing off the world outside, but even then, the stillness did not lift.

In the dim light, Maja's voice was a murmur of concern as she sat beside Linnea. The child had been upset since Loki's sudden departure, her brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze fixed on the spot where the stranger had vanished from sight.

"Mamma..he..he just left!" the child exclaimed.

"Did he say anything, my heart?" Maja asked

"No! I…I don't know what upset him…we were just reading my book.." Linnea replied solemnly.

Maja's fingers as gentle as they were, were no match for the way the confusion was settling in the girl's heart.

Maja turned her attention to Ivan when she heard the door open, her eyes meeting his with a sharpness that he recognized. A silent understanding passed between them. Maja's lips parted just slightly, her expression softening as she looked at Linnea. "Linnea, please go to your room," she said.

Linnea blinked at her mother, her face puzzled. She hesitated before rising from her seat, casting one last glance toward Loki, whose form still loomed awkwardly in the doorway insecurely.

Her footsteps were light as she left the room without a word, retreating to the safety of her own space, but her gaze lingered on Loki until the last moment. The door to her room closed with a soft click, and the house seemed to exhale in unison.

Maja's eyes met Ivan's once more, pulling him in with an urgency that spoke more than the words she would not yet speak. She turned toward Loki, who stood like a shadow at the threshold, his posture stiff and unreadable.

"Come," she said, her voice not a request, but a subtle plea—one that had the sound of a hundred unspoken invitations woven into the tone. "There is warmth here. You need not stand there."

Loki did not answer immediately. His eyes flickered toward the door as he contemplated escape, but with an almost imperceptible shift he stepped deeper into the room, his gaze flickering from the floor to the hearth, to the windows, and back again, avoiding their eyes at all costs.

Ivan let out a long breath, settling back into his chair, his hands clasped together in front of him. He pointed to the couch and encouraged Loki to do the same before he then spoke.

Maja reached out and placed a chenille throw around Loki affectionately, she held her soft hands against his momentarily before retuning to her seat next to Ivan.

"I had a friend…" Ivan then began, his voice slower now, with each word heavier than the last. "His name was Egil." He paused, looking into the flames, "We grew up together…attended Kongsberg Akademi and everything…an all boy's school. Life…was difficult for him, but there was something in his resilience, that made me feel like I wasn't alone. Like we were both trying to find our place in a world that didn't seem to have one for us. So he became my best friend."

Ivan's eyes darkened as memories of old pain resurfaced. "Egil's family struggled…his father was a man who could never find peace. Anger and alcohol were his only companions…and his mother? Well, she was never around, but when she wash she would project her anger on the children …despite all that, Egil fought. He had a difficult time making friends you see… always feeling like an outsider, but I was always there for him. Always watching his back, even when he couldn't see it."

Ivan swallowed, "We worked together for some time at the Bjørnsen Woodworks company. Maja's father—he was the one who owned the company. It was hard work, but it was honest work, and it was through those long days in the woodshop, that I finally met my beautiful wife." Ivan smiled softly a flicker of light passing through the sorrow as his hazel eyes met Maja's icey blue ones. "Day after day Egil and I worked, but there was one moment where he came to me with a look in his eye, and he told me about a woman he had met. Her name was Sunniva."

Loki's eyes lifted, his focus resettling slightly.

"Egil was in love," Ivan continued and a soft laugh escaping him. "Sunniva was unlike anyone he had ever known. She was from our town—Hønefoss—and he spoke of her as if she was a vision in the sun. She had this…. way about her, in the way she spoke and wrote. She was an author…a dreamer. She was so accepting of him….never cared about his past nor scars. She saw his heart, and that's when he told me, Skyggeengel … that he was going to marry her!"

He leaned forward, as though trying to bring the past back to life, "They had decided to elope, no grand wedding...nothing, Sunniva didn't want that, but I still officiated a union for them quietly. Me, Skyggeengel….I stood there, ordaining my best friend to marry the woman he loved….and I was so proud of him. Proud of what he had fought for, proud of what he had built with her…"

Ivan's gaze then grew distant, and Maja's grip on his hand tightened as though to ground him. "Then came the day I found out she was pregnant. It was joy, pure joy. He came to me, told me with tears in his eyes, 'I'm going to be a father!' and I was absolutely delighted for him, Skyggeengel. I just knew my friend…my companion…and brother was going to give that little one everything he never had."

Ivan's voice faltered, "But life has a way of taking everything from us when we least expect it." His eyes closed for a moment, the memory searing him like the fire before them. "One night, there was an accident—a gas spill in the middle of winter. The gas line at the bookstore Sunnvia worked at was old. They say the pipes cracked and spark had occurred in the furnace…that was all it took and suddenly it was all gone in an instant. She was caught in the explosion, the fire consuming the store."

Loki's chest tautened and his eyes grew glassy. He could feel Ivan's loss as it cut acutely into him. Maja wiped a tear from her cheek, holding onto Ivan's hand as he continued.

"I don't think I'll ever forget the day I got the news…I was in town gathering some paint supplies for Maja on the way home, when a messenger found me. One of Sunnvia's cousins… He didn't even need to speak because I saw it in his eyes…I just knew…and my heart shattered, Skyggeengel."

Ivan's hand clenched into a fist. "Egil didn't know how to cope with the loss of Sunnvia…. he literally did not know how to breathe without her. He was drowning in his own grief, his own guilt that he should have been there to save her. He came to me one last time, in desperation to make sense of it all….but he couldn't…."

Maja leaned forward slightly, her voice abundant with sentiment, "He drank himself into despair… He couldn't live without Sunniva. So, one night, he drove his car off Gjevillvatnet Mountain….and just… let go."

Loki's heart hammered in his chest. The image of Egil's final moments—lost in grief to the darkness—reminded him too much of his own moment of despair, when he had let go of Gungnir and fell into the abyss. The memory of that pain resurfaced, and for a brief moment he felt the same ache of forfeiture.

"I was heartbroken, Skyggeengel," Ivan said with a shaky voice. "I lost my best friend, my brother…and I had to pick up the pieces. I had to find a way to carry on. Then, when I saw their daughter—just a baby, no more than a few months old—I knew what had to be done."

Maja's hand embraced Ivan's tighter, "We couldn't let her grow up the way her father had. We couldn't let her feel that same despair. So…. we took her in and raised her with all the love we could give: all the care and all the knowledge of who she was. We made sure she knew who her birth parents were and she knew they had loved her."

Loki's eyes widened at this, then flickered to a picture frame resting atop the fireplace's hearth. The photograph within it was worn at the edges, capturing two young men in plaid shirts and faded jeans, their arms slung around each other in a bond that time could not sever. Ivan and Egil, he thought. There was a radiance in their smiles and a deep history written in the ease of their embrace.

His eyes darted to another frame beside it, depicting a baby swaddled in the arms of Ivan and Maja. Little Linnea with wavy brown hair sticking up in unruly tufts, nestled safely against them. Maja's fingers curled protectively around the tiny bundle, while Ivan's gaze brimmed with adoration. The love in that frozen moment pressed against Loki's chest.

"She will never know anything different," Ivan said, interrupting Loki's thoughts, his eyes resolute.

Loki looked at them both, his heart a strange mixture of desolation and admiration. "Does she know?" he asked softly, "Does your child know she was adopted?"

Maja nodded gently as a warm smile spread on her lips. "Of course, from the very beginning, we've told her everything. She really is a perfect mix of both of them. She loves the outdoors like her father, Egil did, always running through the forest and climbing trees. Yet, when she's also so much like her mother, Sunniva. She's always with her books, reading every word like it's a treasure."

Ivan chuckled softly, his eyes brightening as he thought of the girl they were raising. "She's as stubborn as her Sunniva too," he added. "When she has her mind set on something, absolutely nothing can stop her….plus, there's this drive to learn, to explore, and to create. We tell her all the time that she's her parents' daughter, and she takes that with pride!"

Loki lowered his head at this, feeling a deep respect for the little girl and for the Dahl's who had raised her. "Your child flourishes, much like the flower that bears her name…a testament to the hands that have nurtured her."

"She is," Maja said with pride. "She's everything they could have hoped for and more."

Loki's eyes lingered on Ivan and Maja, seeing their unwavering devotion to the child they'd brought into their family.

Had Frigga and Odin felt this way about me?

Ivan's locked his eyes with Loki's. There was no trace of pity nor judgment in them.

"The despair that I spoke of before," Ivan began, "the same kind of pain Egil had, Skyggeengel, and I saw in you when we first met….I could see it in your eyes...even now. I know it's hard to carry that darkness like it's part of you, but you don't have to make it who you are."

Loki stiffened for a moment and a disobeying tear slowly trickled down his left cheek, but he couldn't look away. It felt as though Ivan had reached into his chest and laid bare the parts of him he kept hidden so stringently that even he had trouble acknowledging them.

Ivan's continued, "I know you are not ready to speak about it, but when you are, you can speak to us. No matter what it is."

Loki's mind whirled with thoughts too sharp to articulate. Then alas, he cast a glace gently as his eyes glinted and whispered, "Thank you." It wasn't much, but it was all he could give for now.

*Asgard*

The grandeur of the kingdom felt hollow, its splendor diminished in the wake of Loki's absence.

A gathering chamber lay ensconced in the heavy hush of firelight, where the torches upon the walls flickered with weary tongues of gold. The distant repercussions of revelry from the great halls of Asgard bled into the silence, muffled and ghostlike, yet this room held implicit words and sorrows yet to be unraveled.

Here, away from the laughter of feasting warriors, the heart of grief stirred. Thor entered, his countenance was aglow of mirth and pride; instead it was darkened with the stain of regret.

There, gathered in solemn silence around the long oak table sat his companions. Volstagg, the jovial giant sat convex, his usually robust frame weighed down somberly. His hands once quick to grasp a tankard in jest, now covered his face jadedly. Fandral stood by the wall across from him with his arms crossed, his once-unshakable confidence was now replaced with a grave expression. Hogun ever the observer, sat in the corner with disheartened eyes cast elsewhere.

Then there was Sif…she stood near the hearth with a broken posture. The heaviness of her armor seemed to reflect a physical manifestation of the grief that had settled into her heart.

Fandral, always first to fill silence stepped forward, though his usual bravado faltered.

"Thor, how do you fare my friend?"

Thor's gaze flickered to him, then to Sif, Hogun, and Volstagg in turn. They awaited answers, but the words felt leaden, unwilling to part from his lips. When at last he spoke, his voice was ragged.

"I have been a fool." He swallowed hard, "I thought I understood my brother, thought I had seen the full depth of his heart…but in the end I knew nothing…"

A hush fell as his friends exchanged glances.

Fandral frowned, "Loki's treachery is no fault of yours."

"Treachery?" Thor's voice rose, hoarse with disbelief. "Do you still not see? He was not grasping at the throne out of greed! My brother was drowning and none of us saw it." His breath shook. "…and I… I was the one who watched him let go into the abyss…"

Sif's expression glinted with tears, "Thor, he let frost giants into the palace. He…."

"He sought only to prove himself worthy!" Thor's voice cracked and he turned away, pressing a hand against the cool stone wall as if seeking strength from it. "While I was on Midgard, stripped of my power, he was here… alone. While I have learned so much during my exile, I failed to see the suffering that stood beside me my entire life."

Thor's shoulders shook, "Mother made him king," he admitted at last. "Not by his own ambition, but because he was the next in line to ascend to the throne when Father had fallen into the Odinsleep. It made perfect sense… Asgard needed a ruler."

Sif's eyes enlarged at this, "Frigga gave him the throne?" Her voice was wavered with disbelief.

Thor nodded sadly, "….and he tried…oh he tried…but when I returned and our father awoke, it all crumbled. He saw in my return not the return of a brother, but the proof of his worst fear: that he would never be enough in our father's eyes."

Hogun, spoke at last, "Then why did he not tell us?"

"Pride," Thor shrugged. "Shame… I believe my brother wished to be seen as strong and worthy, as the son our father could finally be proud of…" His throat tightened. "My brother learned something about himself that shattered him in the midst of all this…"

Sif's breath hitched, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. "Whatever it was… must have been… unmoored."

Thor closed his eyes, memory searing through him like a blade.

The Bifrost stretched into eternity around them. Loki's face twisted with fury, his voice raw and desperate.

"All I ever wanted was to be your equal!" he had cried.

Thor had raised Mjolnir against him, unaware of the agony beneath the anger.

"I recall him isolated himself when he ascended," Volstagg said at last, "Even more than before…"

Fandral nodded. "We thought it was the burden of the crown. Loki scarcely ate….he restlessly paced the halls... I swear, we simply believed he was merely… adjusting."

Hogun exhaled shakily, "We should have seen it."

Sif's hand came up to her mouth, her expression stricken. "Was it all too much for him?" she whispered. "Now that he's gone… how will you go on?"

Thor's hands trembled at his sides. "That," he admitted, his voice breaking, "is what I fear most of all."

The chamber fell into silence one more, as if the very air mourned the brother they had all failed to save.