Loki

The aftermath of victory was always a complicated affair.

He had absolute faith in Sif to carry out her orders.

He and Frigga stood side by side as The throne room of Asgard hummed with subdued triumph as the warriors returned from Alfheim.

"I hope you have nothing to do with this," Frigga murmured.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Mother, please. I am a reformed man."

"Hmm." She hums. "I'm sure Lady Sif is grateful for the opportunity."

Sif approached with purpose. Her silver armour bore the marks of battle—scorched edges, faint dents—but she carried herself with unshaken pride.

Victorious. Beautiful. The Goddess of War.

Behind her, a Light Elf leader followed, their pale iridescent skin and long silver hair catching the glow of the golden hall. His bow was strapped to his back, reminding him of Hawkeye.

If Barton was here, he would be scheming all sorts of ways to get that bow.

They bowed low as they reached the throne, where Thor sat with Mjolnir resting across his lap. He looked every bit the king that Asgard needed.

Sif kneeled too, putting her sword and shield down.

"My king," Sif began, her voice steady and strong. "The rebel forces on Alfheim have been defeated."

Thor's face remained impassive, though a flicker of relief passed through his eyes. "That is splendid news. What of Drunir?"

Sif's expression hardened. "The coward fled before the final battle. Our scouts tracked him to the borders of Nornheim."

Loki felt his mother stiffen next to him.

He would have to stay up longer tonight. Drunir had been found once, he can be found again.

Thor's knuckles tightened around Mjolnir's handle. "Then this is not over."

"No, my king," Sif said. "But we have secured the loyalty of the Light Elves. They stand ready to aid us in the battles to come." She turned to the elf leader, who stepped forward and knelt before the throne.

"King Thor," the Light Elf began, their voice melodic and calm. "I am Faradei, knight of Queen Aelsa. On behalf of my people, I pledge our allegiance to Asgard. We have seen the strength and honour of your warriors. Our Queen hopes that this new bond marks a new chapter for our realms."

Thor rose from his throne, towering over the elf. For a split moment, Loki thought Thor would do something rash.

Instead, he descended the steps.

The hall erupted in murmurs; courtesans, advisors, and anyone who deigned the privilege to enter the palace voiced their surprise.

His long red cape billowed behind him as Mjonir's spun in his hand.

Loki smirked when Thor caught his eye.

Thor may have been the ideal of what an Asgardian should be but only those closest to him knew that it was surface level.

He was so much more than that. His policies were focused on the prosperity of Asgard and fostering a new era of peace but he was quick to remind his allies that he had a strong backbone and a stronger will.

He stood in front of the Light Elf who was still kneeling. Loki could see him swallow as he waited.

Thor smiled and placed his hand on Faradei's shoulder. He lifted him so that he was no longer kneeling, staring into his eyes.

"Your loyalty honours us, and your courage will not be forgotten." His voice boomed. "On behalf of Asgard, we thank you."

The room echoed with applause as Thor's declaration carried through the hall. The guards banged the end of the spears against the floor, making the whole palace shake.

Loki let out a sharp inhale and clapped politely. "Not bad."

Frigga did the same but stayed silent next to him.

A feast was announced. Nothing too grand. Well...as far as Asgardian feasts go.

Meat and fruit were spread out on the tables as warm candlelight lit the hall. Mead filled every chalice and barrel, freely flowing as the crowd mingled about, exchanging stories of past battles or catching up on mundane life.

Asgard may be in upheaval politically but they had enough food in their stores to hold out for a long-planned siege. Just beyond the mountains that enclosed the city were the farmlands where plentiful crops grew all year round.

Loki had ensured that a portion of the crops was shared to the Realms that needed food as well to the soldiers.

Frigga enjoyed horseback riding. She had taken it up recently, favouring to ride through the fields and smaller villages. She liked to talk to the many farmers.

Her popularity with the common folk had always been known. Sometimes Loki would go with her and enjoy the fresh air.

Behind the city limits, nobody glared at him or spat at his feet.

Loki sat near Thor, poking at his food as Thor regaled his guests on his adventure on Midgard.

Asgard was mercifully quiet—the walls safe and their subjects content.

One of his spies had passed on his report earlier, slipping him a tiny scroll as dinner had been served. There was some trouble brewing but nothing he had to concern himself with.

Yet.

There had been one report of Drunir. Perhaps he would send one of the Warrior Three to verify the information.

He got up, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder. "I think I'll go now, Mother."

She smiled, placing her hand over his. "Work can wait, Loki."

"I'm simply tired. That's all."

It was a lie. Frigga knew it.

She sighed, waving one of her ladies maids away. "Very well. Off you go. Don't stay up too late."

"I think I'll limit myself to one book this evening." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Try not to indulge too much, Mother."

Her only response was to laugh.

He decided to wander the palace alone, his footsteps soft against the polished stone floors. He's traversed these halls for years. Tonight he decided to take a different route to his chambers.

There was a door at the end of the hallway. The further he went the more guards he saw. Each one of them had been hand-selected, their eyes acute as they followed him.

Not a single one came forth to stop him. Even if he meant any harm, they would be on him like a cat trapping a mouse in its jaws. After all, it was him and Frigga who designed this.

He came up on a door where Yggdrasil was carved. Odin had once told him that these doors were older than Asgard itself, made from one of the branches of the old tree itself.

It could be another one of his lies. Who knows?

Loki traced the roots of the tree, tracing up to where Midguard lay in the middle. He pressed his forehead against the wood and whispered, "Eigi fellr tré vid fystra högg."

The doors swung open. He gathered his wits before stepping inside.

Frigga would visit here almost every day, trying all sorts of ways to rouse her husband from his slumber. Thor only came when he was free of his duties, sometimes talking to the old king as if he could still hear him. Loki dreaded coming here, eagerly avoiding this floor of the palace whenever he could.

There was nothing he could say.

The All-Father lay in a deep slumber, his once-commanding presence reduced to a figure still and silent upon the bed. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the weight of his presence.

Loki moved closer, standing at the foot of the bed.

Odin looked so strange laying there. Loki wondered when his father—adopted father—stopped appearing so imposing. He looked frail and weakened, like a brittle tree branch in autumn, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

A golden field encased his bed, humming gently as it kept him safe.

"Odin," he began, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Father."

The word felt heavy in his mouth. The silver in his tongue was replaced with lead.

There was no response. The rise and fall of Odin's chest was the only sign of life.

He wondered if Odin could hear everything that Loki was saying.

It didn't matter. Loki would always be the son he regretted the most.

"The realm grows restless in your absence," he said, a bitter edge to his tone. "Drunir stirs rebellion, alliances are fragile, and Mother misses you. Thor... well, Thor does his best. But even he is not you." He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the All-Father's still form. "You always had the answers. All that wisdom and all that strength for what? You leave us to... guess and flounder."

For a long moment, the room was silent.

Loki exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Of course, no answer. You were never one for heartfelt discussions, were you?"

Turning on his heel, he left the chamber, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. The quiet of the palace felt stifling now, his thoughts too loud in his head. The doors closed loudly behind him.

He wandered some more, his steps loud and purposeful.

He was feeling melancholic tonight.

Rarely he would allow himself to indulge in his moods but the mead was heady and warm, settling in his blood.

Loki found himself at one of the many balconies, staring out into the sky. Night in Asgard was just as beautiful as day. The sea of space glowed with a million stars and the lights of the city looked like fireflies in the dark.

Someone stepped onto the balcony.

Loki was about to turn around and cast their hair on fire when he realized it was one of the delegates from Vanaheim.

Gert? Or what it Geris? Loki couldn't really recall his name. He was clad in the understated elegance of their realm, their expression composed but expectant.

He wore a dark blue tunic with leather pants. A light blue tunic was half draped over his shoulders and pinned with a tree-shaped pin. He was quite handsome with soft brown eyes and bright blonde hair. If Loki were younger or less angsty he'd try to lure him back to his chambers.

What's one more scandal to his name anyway?

"Prince Loki," the delegate said, bowing slightly yet his eyes remained on him. "I hope I'm not interrupting, Your Highness."

You are, Loki thought accusingly.

"Not at all," Loki replied coolly instead, decorating his face with a charming little smile. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to catch your name. You know how busy it is, Sir..."

"Geltir," The delegate hesitated, then said, "I wished to inquire about the proposal. Have any decisions been made?"

Straight to the bone, this one.

Loki's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Your eagerness is noted. Rest assured, the matter is not forgotten. However," he added, "Drunir's rebellion must be quelled before we entertain such... discussions."

Geltir inclined his head. "Of course. We understand the complexities of the situation." He leaned against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. "However, the Vanir hope for a quick resolution. We are a proud people and we do not like to wait long."

"Vanheim has always been loyal to Asgard." Loki pointed out, his eye narrowing. "I hope it will continue to be so."

Mostly for your sake.

"We were loyal to Odin."

The audacity of this man stoked his anger. He grits his teeth, forcing his face to stay placid.

"You speak as if he is dead."

Geltir stared at Loki, looking for something. His brown eyes were a similar shade to Maya's. It was unnerving to watch him try to get past his defences.

"I mean no disrespect," he says. "We only intend on strengthening our alliances through marriage. Asgard has always honoured its promises but we feel as if it is time for something more...permanent."

Loki bit back the bile he wanted to spit out.

"Indeed," Loki said, turning his gaze away. He focused on the glittering sea. "You'll have your answer in time. Until then, I suggest patience."

It was a clear dismissal. Geltir picked up on it and bowed. With a curt nod, the delegate took their leave, disappearing down the corridor.

Loki stood there for a moment, staring after him.

A part of him was tempted to sink the blade of his dagger straight into his back but he was past such temptations.

How dare they make such demands, he thought, their idea of marriage is nothing more than a trap.

Lord Geltir must've thought himself smug to ambush him.

He sighed, straightening his cloak as he resumed his solitary walk. He made his way to his chambers.

It was blissfully silent.

—

A/N : Eigi fellr tré vid fystra högg translates to 'A tree does not fall with the first blow'