Melting Snow ~ Ch. 4

Thor/Loki
Overall NC17, this part PG-13


Contrary to his recent actions, Thor was not stupid. He might not always think about what he was doing, might sometimes - or often - run head-first into danger without thinking about the consequences, but even Thor was very much aware that he had - to put it nicely - fucked up royally. He also knew that he had to do something to prevent a war from happening. Honestly, he could understand Loki's rage and anger. Maybe he would have acted the same if their situations had been the other way around ...

Without really noticing it, he stalked through the abandoned hallways, turning left and right and wandering aimlessly, deeply in his thoughts, his panic and frightened state of mind.

His father would know what to do. Yes, wise Odin, old Odin. Just a nod of his head, a handful of words from his mouth would be enough to dispel this uneasy situation, to calm Loki - and his father, oh Lord, Loki's father! - and make sure any declarations of war were to be dropped.

To his own surprise, he found himself in front of Fandral's chambers, which was not the worst place to be, especially when he really had to talk - or rather yell - st somebody right now. So he knocked - not exactly softly, but not as hard as to tear down the door, either (though he would have every reason to do so, he thought).

After a few moments that felt like hours, Fandral opened the door with his being extraordinarily disheveled (Thor would have grinned if the situation hadn't been this severe, since Fandral so very vain and careful with his appearance that he took the utmost care of himself; even on the battlefield, there never was a single hair out of place), rubbing his eyes tiredly. "You are aware how late it is?"

"This is too important to wait until dawn," Thor said and hastily invited himself in by shoving Fandral out of the doorway. "Close the door. We need to talk." While Fandral did so with a tired groan, Thor sat down on the nearest chair and folded his arms in front of his chest. "I fear I brought a war upon us."

Fandral blinked in confusion, his eyebrows raised and his head cocked to the left. "How? Why? Did-" He looked at Thor alarmed. "- did somebody attack you, my prince? Just say the word and-"

Thor held up a hand and Fandral fell silent. "I did follow your advice," he said. "I took the Jötun to bed. I ... proved I am a true adult and proved I'm only an egoistical child as well." He explained the situation he was in, explained his and Loki's misunderstanding, told him about the threats of war Loki had spat into his face.

Fandral stayed silent for a long time, brushing his thumb over his bearded chin, solemnly looking at Thor's unhappy frame. Finally, he shook his head and said: "I see no other choice for you. It seems you will have to marry."

"But I don't want to!" he exclaimed and - as soon as he saw Fandrals face turn into a grimace - instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"Sometimes life is not about what we want, my prince, but about what we are responsible to do."

"Well, why don't you marry him? You encouraged me to lie with him!"

"Thor ... I have seen the way you looked at him. I might have pushed you into the right direction-"

"Right?" Thor echoed disbelievingly. "Have you lost your mind?"

"But," Fandral continued, "you would have taken him anyway. Maybe not tonight, but soon enough."

"I ... " No. Yes. Maybe. ... most likely. Damnit. He sagged a little and gave a defeated sigh. "Yes."

"There is nobody to blame, dear prince," Fandral said quietly and stepped closer to put a hand on Thor's shoulder. "Not you. Not me. Not him."

"Father should have told me."

"I'm certain he had his reasons not to."

"Father always has his reasons," Thor said sadly. "He must not have trusted me to ... be responsible." And didn't that thought hurt more than any battle wound?

"He must have not wanted to burden you with it."

"I will have to talk to him, won't I?" he asked and finally looked up to Fandral who nodded slowly and calmly. "I will not like this talk."

-

He found no sleep this very night. He was too deep in his thoughts, was too scared of his father's anger and his mother's disappointed gaze. There would be no war, this he was sure of. The All-Father would prevent it. But at what cost?

Thor bit his lower lip. Would he be punished? Cast out? Would he be given to the giants? To Loki? Would he be left at his mercy? Well, then he could as well leave the palace grounds and jump off the Bifröst right now. That would spare them all a lot of shouting.

With shaking hands he got dressed and made his way to the throne room to face his father and the consequences of his actions.

-

As he opened the doors to the throne room, he could see his parents - his father standing tall and proud and menacing while his mother was still seated and bore a serious expression - and the giants' king who did not look too happy. Thor's heart skipped a beat and he bit his lip again. Had they been arguing? About what? About him? Did Laufey want to rip off his head and feed it to some kind of frost monster for defiling his darling son?

Slowly, carefully he stepped closer - and was now able to overhear their conversation.

"It is still too early to hand over the Casket," his father said in a hushed voice.

Laufey growled, a sound like crackling ice and bursting land. It made Thor flinch, but the All-Father was very pointedly unimpressed and did not even raise his brows. "My people have been waiting for almost twenty years," Laufey hissed. "This is not too early, Odin, this is about time!"

"After twenty years, another day or two will not matter."

Laufey's hand shot out, grabbing Odin by the collar. He bent down a little so that they were eye to eye. "Are you trying to sneak your way out of our bargain?"

"I simply ask for a few more days until my son will have understood -"

"It is none of my concern if you failed to raise your brat correctly!" Laufey all but spat in his face.

This was - in Thor's opinion - the moment to gather all of his courage and speak up. "Erm," he said (not very courageous, admittedly) and just a second later all eyes fell upon him. He gulped audibly and exhaled deeply, straigthened his posture before indicating a small bow. "Father, mother," he bid his greetings and turned to the giant. "King Laufey, I appreciate your concern, unnecessary as it is. I have been raised quite well and ... I am aware of my duties as the prince of Asgard. Thus, I shall marry your son if he wishes to do so as well."

If his father was surprised, he did not show it, and instead shot an approving smile first at Thor, then at Laufey. "You heard it. Should Loki wish to -"

"There is no 'should'," Laufey snapped. "My boy shall marry yours. It is his destiny."

Odin simply nodded and said: "Then let me accompany you to my vault to finish our ... trade." Together, they left the room (and when Odin passed by Thor, he squeezed his shoulder and smiled gently).

As soon as they had left and the doors had closed behind them, his mother got up hastily and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry," she said while ruffling his hair.

"What for?"

"You shouldn't have found out like this. We should have told you earlier."

"Then why didn't you?"

"We had hoped it wouldn't come to this. We had hoped Laufey would father a girl."

... and then everything would have been alright? I would still have had to marry, but you didn't want me engaged to a boy? "You could have told me."

"Yes. I know. You are more mature than we had thought."

If this was supposed to be a compliment, then it wasn't a good one. It really failed to cheer him up.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. "For both of you."

"Yes." He was sorry as well. For himself. For Loki. Mostly for Loki.

"There is one more thing," his mother said and drew back, straightened her clothes. "If ... when you marry, you will automatically pass your test of adulthood, since it is to be expected that you consummate the marriage."

Thor forced himself to smile. "I understand. Thank you, mother." And with a sigh he said: "I think I should search for Loki and talk about our future." But only if he doesn't castrate me before I can even open my mouth.

--

Loki had been unable to find any sleep. He had lain in the darkness of his chambers, stared at the ceiling and spent the time thinking. He had failed. He had brought shame to himself and his people.

All this time he had been raised to submit to the Asgardians' will, to sacrifice himself so that his people could finally live without fear, without poverty, without ... having to hide in the shattered ruins of a once glorious kingdom. All he'd had to do was to lie back and pray for it to be over, to satisfy  the Odinson's greed, which - yes - he had managed, but then ... then his pride, the sole thing his father had told him to shed when he invited the Asgardian to bed, had taken over - and destroyed everything.

Now he had hastily declared a war his people had no chance of winning, a war that might erase even the rest of his kin. All he had wanted to do was to make his father proud ...

What will father say now? he asked himself with a frightened shiver, and simply imagining his father's diappointment brought him to the brink of tears. And as the first streams of sunlight shone gently through the gaps in the drapes hanging in front of the windows, he had cried himself to an uneasy sleep.

-

Sometimes, Loki felt like he was different. Different from his brothers who were both not only taller and stronger, but also more carefree in their attitudes and in their lives. They were still raised as princes, just like him. However, their education had never been as strict as his, had never included having to learn all about foreign customs, strange customs, customs he neither understood nor wanted to understand.

("There will be times you'll have to kneel before another king," his father said once, and when Loki asked why - because kings were equal, weren't they? And Laufey never did kneel before anybody, or did he? -, his father suddenly looked very sad and laid a hand on Loki's head. "We will never be equal to the Asgardians.")

-

Sometimes, Loki remembered something he might have dreamed. He remembered being small - smaller than ever, even though he wasn't very tall to begin with - and helpless, wrapped in a blanket and lying on the ground of a building.

There was a man looming over him, his skin a strange pinkish colour. Loki didn't remember his face anymore, only the golden shine of metal covering one of his eyes. "A boy?" the man asked, his voice close to disappointment and anger. There was another voice, words Loki could not understand, and then the man said: "It will suffice" and picked him up.

A warmth flooded through his infant body, almost too hot, too bright. Until this day he remembered it clearly, eventhough he'd never felt something like this again.

(He asked his father about this dream, too. Once. After the look of terror on Laufey's features, he had never dared to speak of it again.)

-

A knock on the door startled him out of his sleep. His breathing was fast and uneven and when he opened his eyes, he saw that the sun had already risen high and was flooding his chambers with an almost too bright light. How long had he slept? Had he missed an important appointment or something similar? ... no. Nobody had told him anything about appointments for this day.

It knocked again, and with a small sigh, Loki got up (and hissed at the sudden jolt of pain the movement produced - nothing a simple flick of his wrist and an incantated healing spell couldn't have taken care of, but he had decided to not do it, to keep the pain as a reminder of his failure and stupidity) and hurled his night-gown over his head to be at least halfway presentable, then hurried to the door.

His father was standing on the other side of the door and scurried inside as soon as Loki had taken half a step aside. Laufey stood in the room, making it look much smaller than it actually was, and turned around to face Loki. The look on his face was a strange mixture of concern and joy, which made - in turn - Loki's face contort in confusion.

"Is ... something the matter, father?"

"Son ... "

Oh, this isn't good. He already knows what I've done. "Y-yes?"

Laufey paused for a moment and then moved his hands in a couple of complicated gestures until something emerged just in front of Loki: a small, rectangular box that emitted a warm blue light from within. "This," Laufey said proudly, "is the Casket od Ancient Winters."

"It is beautiful," Loki whispered in awe and knelt down to touch it with trembling fingers. He could feel its power, its magic licking at his fingertips, begging to be used, begging to create and turn dead land into living glory.

"Our sacrifice has been worth it."

Sacrifice ... Loki flinched and jerked his hand back. "Father, I -"

"You have brought glory to our kin, my son."

"I ... " So his father didn't know yet. He didn't know. And he had the Casket now. This could be seen as treachery, could be enough reason for the Asgardians to maim and slaughter like they always did. He ... would have to kneel before the Odinson, would have to gravel at his feet and beg and endure every torture he might deem fitting for threatening him, for speaking up, and maybe he would take Loki again and again and it would hurt even more and -

"You have made me proud, Loki."

- he felt like throwing up right now.