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Chapter Text

Thor was a dangerous man when angered. And today, he was very, very angry.

Dark clouds were trailing him, ozone was thick in the air. Startled servants jumped from his path, and frightened whispers trailed him into the royal wing. Thor didn’t care, his vision was tunneling. He flung open the oaken double doors to Loki’s rooms.

“Where is he!?” A maid yelped and pointed at one of the doors. Thor stormed into the study, door banging off marble, the knob rattling loose. “Loki!”

Loki was bent over his expansive desk, apron brushing against the chemical-stained wood. An intricate alchemical system, built of thin glass and filled with bubbling liquids, was sitting at his elbow. He cleaned the ink off his quill and turned to Thor with a long-suffering sigh. “What have you done now?”

“What have I—?” Thor was seeing red. “You sabotaged me!”

“I—?” Loki lifted both hands in an appeasing manner. “Thor, start at the beginning. What do you think I have done?”

“You know well enough!” Thor grabbed the front of his alchemist’s apron and slammed him into the wall. Loki’s gaze immediately went to the rattling test tubes. “I don’t find your jests funny!”

“Firstly, all my jests are objectively hilarious—” Loki struggled to dislodge Thor’s hands. Something clattered behind Thor, and Loki threw a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Leave it!” He glanced back at Thor. “I warn you. Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

Thor eased up a bit. “Why would you do this to me? How have I wronged you, brother, that you have to humiliate me in front of the woman I love?”

“The woman you—” Understanding dawned on Loki’s features. He let out a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes. “Did your date with the lady Járnsaxa not go as planned?”

“You know perfectly well how it went!”

“I know nothing, Brother, but that you barge in here and accuse me of evildoing!”

“This has your grimy handprints all over it!” Thor shook him, and Loki clung to his forearm to avoid getting thrown about like a rag doll. “My saddle strap broke! I fell off my horse before we even left the courtyard! The stable hands were howling with laughter!”

“And how is it my fault?”

“When we got to Fensalir, the picnic basket was filled with pickled fish! Fish, Loki! Pickled!”

“An unfortunate mix-up.” But Loki’s mouth was twitching with mirth.

“And when I tried to kiss her, she told me I smelled like dung!”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“I know it was you!” One last time, Thor slammed him into the wall for good measure. “Out with it: what are you taking revenge for?”

“Let me go, or this conversation is over.” Loki’s eyes began glowing. Thor might have been dangerous when angered—but so was Loki. He dropped his brother, though he was of half a mind to wrestle him to the floor.

Loki straightened his tunic. A flash of green magic ironed the wrinkles from his apron and shirt. He looked thoroughly vexed to find his collar torn. “Frankly, these all sound like misfortune to me.”

“Don’t take me for a fool. I know it was you!”

“Thor, think. What could you possibly have done to invoke my ire? I’ve barely seen you since you’ve returned to Asgard.” Loki seemed more exasperated than angry. “And even if you had slighted me, what good would this do? Why would I punish you without telling you what you’ve done wrong?”

It was true that Loki had addressed his misgivings in the past—whether it was snide remarks or screaming fights—and only resorted to cruelty if continually ignored.

“Do you swear you had nothing to do with it?”

“Thor, look around yourself.” Loki was finally losing his patience. His hair was curling and falling into his eyes, his sleeves were stained, his feet bare. There was a crease between his brows and shadows beneath his eyes. One of his desks was piled high with the alchemical setup, the other with research. The rows of runes and data were so small they appeared like fly specks from afar. “I’m applying to the High Council of Mages. Though you do not care, this is the highest rank one can bestow upon a mage. If I make it, I’d be the youngest member to join them. You understand I cannot let the philter out of my sight. I’ve barely seen the outside in weeks! Do you truly think I’d sneak down to the stables to saw through your saddle strap?”

Put like that, it did sound silly. Loki barely left his rooms for meals, and only at Mother’s insistence that he was working too hard. For a moment longer, Thor stood with his fists balled at his sides, now left without a target for his frustrations.

“However, if the outing went that badly, it might have been a sign. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” Loki’s pity was salt in Thor’s wounds.

“I am the son of Odin. I am not cowed so easily.” Thor straightened his shoulders. He’d simply have to apologize.

How hard could it be?

**

Thor wished the floor would swallow him.

This close to Midsummer, Asgard was brimming with visitors; the higher their rank, the closer they were seated to the elevated royal table. Which meant that Járnsaxa Njördsdottir had been within Thor’s sight for weeks and, despite the disastrous outing, had been throwing him coy glances all evening.

Finally, Thor gathered his nerves and approached Járnsaxa to apologize. She stood to curtsy, and he was about to call out a greeting—only to trip over thin air. He stumbled into a servant, and a dozen tankards of ale crashed to the ground with deafening noise.

The shocked silence weighed heavy. Thor stood in a lake of beer, soaked from the shoulders down. His boots squelched as he shifted. The whole hall was staring at him. Some of the visitors farthest away were standing on the benches and stools, gawking.

Thor threw a fist in the air and roared, “Another!”

The hall erupted in laughter. Tension dispersed and conversation returned. Thor apologized to the servant and stepped over the mess.

Járnsaxa had been out of the circle of disaster and was hiding a smile, her black hair falling into her eyes. In Western Vanir fashion, it was unbraided, cut short enough to brush her chin.

“Your people do love you,” she observed, mirth dancing in her green eyes. Norns, she was beautiful. She offered Thor her handkerchief, and he clutched it sheepishly. It was hardly large enough to dry more than his hands, but he was glad for the token; it was a good sign.

“They do forgive me easily—as I was hoping you might.” He smiled.

She shook her head but seemed agreeable enough. “And how could I say no to Asgard’s crown prince?”

He asked her on another outing, which she agreed to, and made it through a few lines of awkward small talk. He was acutely aware of her mother watching them from a few feet away.

“I would invite you to sit with my family, but I fear you have an engagement with your closet.” She nodded at his wet trousers. Though the mockery was mild, the embarrassment didn’t sit well with Thor. Both were tempered by her smile.

“Another time, my lady.” Thor wished her a good night and took his leave—and in doing so caught his brother’s eye across the hall. Though Loki quickly turned back to his food, Thor was positive: Loki had been watching him.

Suspicion was gnawing at Thor’s breast.

Tripping him was, after all, Loki’s easiest trick.

**

“I saw Loki mutter something under his breath. It was definitely him.” Sif’s tankard hit the table with a resounding clang. They were gathered around Thor’s table at Ymir’s Feast Hall, the finest tavern in Asgard’s low town. As evening turned into night, the crowd was growing thicker and the volume was rising. “It’s the exact kind of thing he’d do when angered. He’s too much of a coward to face conflict head-on.”

Thor was leaning back in his chair, close to the roaring fire, distracted by the memory of Járnsaxa’s smile. He carried her kerchief in his breast pocket, beneath his armor. When he pressed his hand over his heart, he imagined he could feel the silk against his skin. “I confronted him, and he denied it. And he has no reason to mock me so.”

“Apart from the pure joy of mockery,” Volstagg said around a mouthful of boar. They had come after dinner, but that never stopped him from eating again.

“It doesn’t add up.” Hogun shook his head. “He was in Asgard when you visited Fensalir. He can’t enjoy something he isn’t there to witness. If this is Loki’s doing, then it is for revenge.”

Fandral sat with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. “Still, why would he be mad at you? You were on Ria; there is no way you could have slighted him!”

Volstagg called for more ale. “You were absent for his name day. He might have taken that to heart.”

“Thor could hardly take a holiday from war,” Fandral said. “Even Loki must see that.”

“And I did congratulate him upon my return,” Thor said. “He gave no sign of feeling slighted at all!”

Thoughtful silence descended over the table. Thor’s fingers were resting lightly over his heart.

“What about Vanaheim?” Volstagg asked. “You brought back that bow for Sif, but nothing for Loki.”

“I paid for that bow!” Sif argued. “It wasn’t a gift at all!”

“But does Loki know that?” Fandral asked slowly. “He might be feeling left out.”

“Enough. Loki is not that unreasonable.” The table fell silent, and Thor’s friends exchanged glances. “I think he isn’t,” Thor amended.

“Well,” Fandral said, “whatever the truth, a gift can only improve things.”

Sif scoffed. “This is Loki. You never know.”

**

Thor had no idea what to gift to his brother. He spent most of the day wandering the markets, discarding one idea after the next. It was with a great deal of nerves that he settled for something, though it ate up more of his allowance than he had planned for. Norns, he spent less on the women he courted!

It was late at night when he knocked on Loki’s chamber doors. He was let in by a nervous footman. Thor found Loki in his study, squinting at a tome by low light. He was muttering in Elvish under his breath. The philter was bubbling at his back, shedding an ominous, lavender glow.

Thor felt like an intruder, and Loki took his time to acknowledge his presence. “What now, Thor? Have you found something else to blame me for?”

Feeling awkward, Thor took a step forward. He fiddled with the box in his pocket. “I’ve come to apologize.”

That did get Loki’s full attention, as well as a flicker of surprise. “Go on.”

“I should not have accused you of evildoing the other day.” Loki nodded for him to continue. “I had no proof and no motives to ascribe.” Loki lifted an eyebrow. “It was uncharitable to think it might have been your fault.”

“It was.” Loki looked in equal parts haughty and suspicious. “And is that all that you’re here for?”

“I saw something at the markets, and I thought you would like it.” He pulled the box from his coat pocket and fumbled it so badly he dropped it. With lightning-quick reflexes, Loki caught it before it hit the floor. He seemed speechless, which was rare indeed. Loki’s eyes flickered from Thor’s face to the flat ash-wood box and back, as though trying to find the lie. “Thor. Are you feeling well?”

“Just open it!” Thor’s face was growing hot.

Loki did so. His eyes flashed with magic, though Thor did not know the spell, and some of the tension bled from his shoulders. Gently, he lifted the gold bracelet from the cushion. Intertwining snakes were etched into the metal, their eyes set with emeralds. “Is there an occasion I’m not aware of?”

“I wasn’t here for your name day.”

“I hadn’t expected you to be.” Loki looked up at him with genuine warmth. Some emotion squirmed through Thor’s belly. Unthinking, he took the bracelet from Loki’s hands and closed it around his wrist with a soft snap. He held Loki’s hand to admire the bracelet against his brother’s fair skin.

Loki looked at their joined hands for a long time, and when he met Thor’s eyes, it was with an odd expression. They stood close enough that they were breathing the same air. He cleared his throat, and Thor hastily took a step back.

“This is lovely. Is it Vanir in origin?”

“Aye, the artisan hails from Nóatún. It suits you well.”

Loki ran a fingertip down the etching. “Well. I accept your apology. Would you stay a moment, for an ale or some wine?”

It was late enough that Thor had nowhere to be. And the hope in Loki’s voice made it hard to decline.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Looking to the top of the shelves, Loki called, “Rúna! Watch the potion for me, please.”

“Watch the potion.” The creaking voice came from high above, and Thor sought its source with alarm. A white bird hopped from one shelf to another, dipping in and out of the shadows of Loki’s study. It fluttered to land on the back of a chair. “Watch the potion.”

“Thank you.” Green light washed over Loki as he changed from the stained work clothes into soft green linens. Notably, he didn’t do away with the new bracelet.

“Since when do you have a pet bird?” Thor followed Loki out of the study and towards the hearth. Loki had always been good with animals, but he tended to not keep any in his rooms.

Loki clucked his tongue. “She’s not a pet. She broke her wing, so I treated it, and she seems to have gotten used to the free food and attention. I’ve tried to release her a couple of times, but the little freeloader keeps worming her way back inside.”

“And you’re fond of her, too.” While Thor sat by the fire, Loki went to retrieve drinks from his cabinet.

“Well. It would be cruel to shut her out. Being an albino makes her a pariah among her kin.” He held up a bottle of wine like a question, and Thor shrugged, so Loki picked up two goblets and set them down on the couch table.

“Remember when you brought that wormy, flea-riddled wolf pup back home?” Thor picked up the goblet and took a sip. He usually wasn’t fond of wine, but Loki always poured him varieties so sweet that they might as well be mead.

“Father was furious when he found out.” Loki laughed quietly. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, tucking his feet beneath his body.

They spent some time reminiscing, and as Loki opened the second bottle of wine, Thor caught him up on the current gossip: the preparations for the Midsummer festival and the new trade deals they were forging with Ria. While listening, Loki absentmindedly played with the bracelet.

“What of Járnsaxa? Has she forgiven your bumbling advances?”

Thor scoffed. “I don’t bumble!”

“You were bathed in beer last time you spoke to her,” Loki said dryly. Thor watched for something that might give away his involvement, but Loki seemed to not care beyond mocking him.

Thor shrugged. “I can’t be doing too badly. She agreed to another date.”

Loki looked unimpressed. “Then you had better not squander the opportunity. It would be your last one.”

That was a disconcerting thought. Thor shifted and refilled his goblet of wine. “I’m sure she would not be so judgmental, even if something went wrong.”

When Loki spoke, it was in the reasonable voice that always raised Thor’s hackles. “You have made a fool of yourself twice now. A third time would be political suicide. If she wants to keep respect in her own circles, then she must deny any further advances.”

Thor made a face. More likely than not, Loki was right. “I was thinking I’d take her back to Fensalir for a do-over.”

“Mother’s gardens? Again?” Loki gave him a flat look. “One might think you’ve never courted anyone before.”

“She said she’d be honored to see them!”

“And she’d mean it if you introduced her to the queen. Which a visit to Fensalir implies. Have you any intention of doing so?”

Thor mulishly glared at his wine.

“I didn’t think so.”

The silence stretched. “Fine. What would you do in my stead, then?”

“Have you even considered taking her to the markets?” It wasn’t a bad thought. This close to Midsummer, the markets were teeming with artisans and performers from all the Nine Realms. “Take a stroll together, let her show you her favorite wares from Vanaheim, buy her a gift …” Loki’s fingers were trailing the bracelet. “At the very least, you can’t fall from your horse if you’re not riding one.”

Thor flushed with embarrassment. “That wasn’t my fault! The strap tore!”

Loki cocked an eyebrow at him. “And still, she will be thinking about it whenever she sees you in the saddle.”

“The way you speak, one might think you’re mocking rather than helping me.”

Loki’s smile lit up like the sun rising over Asgard’s ocean. “Are you only just now picking up on that?”

“You little—” Thor grabbed him, and Loki yelped, his goblet clattering to the floor as he failed to wriggle free. Thor put him in a headlock.

“I yield! I yield!” Loki wheezed while laughing. Thor let him go and slung an arm around his shoulders. He squeezed Loki against his side.

“Brother, I don’t know whether to strangle or kiss you. What would I do without your advice?”

Loki looked oddly at him, drew a breath as though to speak—

There was loud chattering from the other room. Loki vaulted over the coffee table. He caught Thor’s goblet, spilling the wine, and raced to the study.

Thor had jumped up, arm extended to call Mjölnir, ready to face an attacker. He sighed and took in the chaos in Loki’s wake. Slowly, he righted the goblet, then mopped wine up with some runner from a nearby side table. From the study drifted Loki’s quiet curses and the clinking of glassware. He had lost Loki to his damn experiment again.

Thor drained his goblet and wandered through Loki’s hearth room, taking in the trinkets he had amassed over the years. Mounted on the wall were the twin daggers, a gift from Queen Njörun of Alfheim. It had been a big deal when he earned them, but Thor barely remembered the occasion. The bookshelves were filled with odd trinkets and old tomes, none of which Thor recognized.

How differently their day-to-day had turned out, even though they had grown up together and been set on the same path. Thor had never thought much of Loki’s progression through the ranks of mages, but he knew Loki was proud of his achievements.

Truly, how could Thor have assumed that Loki had wronged him? He could barely finish a glass of wine without interruption. And Thor realized he had never even asked what kind of potion Loki was brewing. It hardly seemed like the right time to do so.

Loki returned from the study looking frazzled. “I apologize, but I must cut the evening short. Unless I figure out what went wrong, I risk spoiling a month of work over night.”

Thor wished him a good night, and when they clasped necks, Loki’s hand lingered for a moment past Thor’s. His smile was beatific. “I’m glad you came by.”

Loki usually didn’t display this much affection, and Thor found himself speechless with it. There was a nervous feeling in his stomach. A prickle of electricity radiated from where Loki’s thumb rested behind the shell of his ear.

“So am I.”

He left with the feeling that all would be well.

**

The date with Járnsaxa was a disaster.

Firstly, the servants didn’t wake him on time. Which meant that he overslept by hours. When he stumbled out of bed, hollering for his footman, no one was around to see to his needs. No wash water had been prepared, no soaps had been set out. Thor cursed his whole staff and hastened to get dressed. All his garments, carefully laid out the day before, seemed inexplicably an inch too short, and the fabrics were dull and itchy on his skin. He didn’t have time to change, so he ran to the palace gates, where Járnsaxa was still waiting.

“I thought you might not come.” Her curtsy was stiff, and her smile uncertain. His ill-fitting clothes and messy hair drew the eyes and whispers of her chaperones. Her cousins, Thor thought dimly, his mind scattered and distracted.

“I am here now.” But the smile sat as ill on his face as his clothes on his skin. He felt itchy and unwashed and could not ignore the way everyone was watching him. “Have you been to the markets?”

“Almost every day since arriving on Asgard,” she admitted with a smile. “I haven’t tired of it yet.”

She took his proffered arm, and they strolled towards the city center. Vendors were lining the street, hawking their colorful wares, and the smells of roasting meats, fresh cakes, and spices mingled with the faint whiff of fireworks. They climbed down the broad stairs to the markets and immersed themselves in the chatter of the crowd. Bards were playing their lyres, fireworks bloomed in the blue sky, evoking oohs and aahs from the crowd, and they passed by a play that was put on in the middle of a town square.

“Midsummer has been my favorite festival since I was but a boy.” Thor told her of the many memories he had made visiting the markets since his childhood. Of the wrestling contests, of the time Volstagg rode a bear through the festival, and of Fandral getting pickpocketed right after acquiring a new outfit. She laughed in all the right places and made encouraging noises. But when Thor finally ran out of words, he realized she had not spoken in minutes. “What of you, my lady? Is there anything here that reminds you of your homelands?”

She seemed surprised to be addressed. “Oh. Well, I do enjoy hunting. There is a stall on the other side of town that sells bows from my hometown.”

“I know the vendor. His craftsmanship is unsurpassed,” Thor agreed. “I wasn’t aware you enjoyed hunting.”

“Do not underestimate me.” The tilt of her chin was prideful. “I have brought down stór-dýr before.”

“Not many can say that,” Thor allowed easily. “You might enjoy hunting in Fagrvidhr, then. Asgard’s forests are blessed with marvelous beasts.”

“I would like that.” Their eyes locked, and Thor’s heart gave a heavy thump. She tucked hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. “Also, a famous magician from Nóatún has traveled to Asgard for the festival. He is performing by the water. Would you like to go?”

Thor had never found it in himself to be very impressed with street magicians. Their biggest feats paled next to what Loki did with nary a thought. But he smiled now and agreed to the detour for her sake.

They found him in the southernmost market square, which he had almost completely commandeered for his act. He had gathered a large audience in the wide-open space, the rolling ocean at his back. An illusion of a golden dragon flitted overhead, diving so low it grazed the heads of the crowd. Sparks coated the hands of laughing children as their parents lifted them to touch its belly. Járnsaxa and Thor pushed to the front row just as the magician let the great beast dissolve into a rain of sparks. The crowd erupted into cheers.

“Asgard, you are too kind!” The man strutted, hands held aloft to call for silence. He was young and moved with the flair of a dancer. His long beard was ringing with silver clasps, and his coat was spangled with stars that glittered in the sun. “For my next trick I need a volunteer.” His eyes drifted through the crowd, briefly stuttered over Thor, and kept wandering. Of course, the children stepped forward and begged to be chosen.

“I adore your energy, but fear I need someone a bit taller,” the magician told the kids as he brushed past.

“Ask Prince Thor!” One of the kids called and pointed. Heads turned, and Thor smiled and waved, feeling a bit awkward.

“Sorry, this happens a lot,” he muttered to Járnsaxa.

“The woes of being famous.” She smiled knowingly up at him.

The magician was clearly reading Thor’s reluctance to participate. “Now, let us give the crown prince a bit of privacy in his downtime, shall we?” Thor relaxed as the crowd’s attention moved on.

I had not pegged him for a coward.

The whisper rang oddly clear in Thor’s ears. He turned around, but no one stood out in the motley crowd.

“Is everything alright?” Járnsaxa asked.

“I thought I heard—”

Afraid of a bit of magic. The house of Odin has fallen low.

Thor locked eyes with a hunchbacked old woman that was staring up at him with wide eyes. Had she been the one?

He thinks himself above us all.

No matter how he looked, he couldn’t find the one who was mocking him. Thor had had enough.

“Let me volunteer.” Thor stepped out of the crowd, his best smile plastered on to cover his annoyance.

The magician looked surprised but quickly recovered. “Splendid! Your Royal Highness, it is an honor!”

“Yes, well. What would you have me do?” Thor let himself be maneuvered into the center of the space, where the cobblestones were broken up with a marble plinth. Usually, this place was filled with potted greenery. All of it had been moved to make the plaza a stage.

The magician went through a bit of a spiel, focusing the crowd’s attention, evoking laughter and smiles.

“Your Royal Highness, please inspect this golden apple.” The magician procured it with a flourish from a hidden pocket on his person. “Would you say that it is solid and real?”

Thor tossed the apple into the air and caught it and, to the amusement of the crowd, tried to take a bite out of it. “Solid gold!” he announced. There was laughter and cheering. Thor couldn’t wait to be done with this. If nothing else, the excitement on Járnsaxa’s face as she watched from the crowd did cheer him up.

“Please hold it above your head, if you would, for all to see.” The magician had clearly fallen into his routine. Thor lifted the apple as he might Mjölnir, feeling distinctly silly. The magician went through a number of theatrics, such as throwing wide his hands and conjuring what Thor recognized as illusions—darkness, sparkles, and so forth—before releasing the central piece of a magic. A thin beam—accompanied by more dramatic light—hit the apple in Thor’s hand precisely. It turned lighter, and the texture changed.

“Your Royal Highness, would you agree that the golden apple has turned into a real one?”

Thor turned the apple in his hands and dug a fingernail into the skin. A bit of sticky juice wet his fingers. This was, indeed, a bit more magic than Thor was used to from street magicians. He would have to ask Loki about it later. “It is as the man says!” Thor announced.

“Please hold up the fruit once more. I will now make it vanish.”

Thor did as he was told, and the magician made a spectacle of his work.

Look at him. His clothes don’t even fit.

Thor tried to find the voice in the crowd, but it was a game he could only lose.

He looks like a conceited fool.

Right behind him, in the wide open space.

Two things happened at once: Firstly, Thor whirled on his heels to pin down the little rat that kept mocking him. Secondly, the magician released his spell. As Thor had moved, the spell reflected off Thor’s bracers and shot off into the sky—or so he thought.

A scream rang out from the crowd.

Thor turned to find that Járnsaxa was hugging herself, wide-eyed and speechless.

Her dress and underthings had vanished. From her breasts to her calves, all was laid bare to the world. She was turning a furious shade of red, which seeped from her neck and ears down to her chest. Some wench right next to her laughed shrilly and covered her mouth.

“My lady!” One of the chaperones finally broke from her stupor and flung her coat around the poor lady Járnsaxa. Another couple of women jumped to her aid, and soon, Járnsaxa found herself covered head to toe in scarves. In a hurry, she was escorted back to the palace, trailed by rising whispers and raucous laughter.

“This has never happened before,” the magician whispered in horror. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

“Do you deem this funny?” Thor threw the apple at the man, missing him entirely. It exploded on the pavement into pulp. So Thor grabbed the man by the shirt, shaking him. “Is her misery a jest to you!?”

“I apologize, your royal Highness. I truly don’t know how this could have happened.” The magician cowered from him, his face averted and hands raised.

“I should have you thrown into the dungeons!” Thor was furious and looking for a fight, but the magician wasn’t going to give him one. He released the man with a shove, controlled not to harm him. “Leave! And do not set foot on Asgard again!”

The man whimpered his assent, and Thor turned his back on him in disgust. He stormed after Járnsaxa, the crowd parting before him in fear. He was aware that his growing anger was ruining the fine weather, clouds covering the sun, and tried to calm his breathing. It wasn’t easy, but the walk to Hlidskjálf was long.

By the time he reached the gates, Loki’s words had returned to him, and they rang truer than ever: this had been his last chance to woo Járnsaxa—and it had been ruined, through no fault of his own. He staggered and veered off towards one of the side entrances. Once out of sight of the masses, he collapsed against the castle wall. He stared at his own feet, realizing his too-short pants left a gap of visible skin between the fabric and his boots.

What had he done to anger the Norns so?

He pressed shut his eyes and heaved large breaths until the roiling emotion in his breast had calmed. When he lifted his head and looked out over Asgard, he caught sight of a single, bright white bird circling above the markets.

Thor’s mind went still.

What if the Norns had nothing to do with it at all?

What if this had been Loki’s design all along?

**

“I can’t believe he convinced you it wasn’t him. You’re blind to his lies, Thor!” Sif was swinging a practice sword with great anger, kicking up a cloud of dust on the training grounds and beating back Fandral.

“It did sound like an accident,” Volstagg weighed in from the bench, wincing as he pressed a hand against a bruise on his arm. As usual, Thor’s anger had gotten the better of him. Thor felt terrible for having harmed him in the training session.

“A freak accident, if there ever was one.” Fandral said. “No street magician practices dangerous magic. That should not have happened.”

“Changing clothes is one of Loki’s common spells,” Hogun agreed.

“And he could convincingly convey that Thor’s servants should take the morning off,” Sif said. “It’s not that uncommon a request.”

“I apologized! I brought him a gift! He seemed glad for it!” Thor punched a training dummy hard enough to make it shudder and tilt. “What does he want from me!?”

The warriors exchanged glances.

“Have you asked him?” Fandral asked carefully.

“He says,” whack, “there’s nothing,” thunk, “between us!” Thor punched the head straight off the dummy, shooting it across the grounds. It cracked against the inner wall of the keep, where it lodged firmly in the stone. Thor glared at it. Venting his anger on something that wouldn’t bruise wasn’t proving nearly as satisfying as he had hoped.

“So if gifts don’t work, and he won't talk,” Sif said, leaning on the wooden railing running along the yard, “then turnabout is fair play.”

Thor scowled at her. “Do you, fair lady Sif, suggest that I prank my brother back?”

She shrugged. “Why not? It’s a reasonable solution.”

Fandral barked an incredulous laugh. “You can’t mean to beat Loki at his own game!”

“There are five of us and one of him. How hard can it be to think like a little weasel?” Sif asked.

All things considered, Loki deserved it. He had openly humiliated Thor three times in the past week, and that was enough to put Thor’s doubts to rest.

He called for ale for all of them, and they gathered by the side of the training grounds to out-scheme his lying little brother.

**

Thor was early for breakfast the following morning and nervous enough to knock over his ale twice before—in answer to Frigga’s lifted brow—he put it at a safe distance from his elbow. It was just him and Frigga at the elevated table in the feast hall that morning.

The Warriors, Sif, and Thor had executed their plans the night prior—though his damn bird had followed them from room to room and cussed them out—while Loki sat through dinner. Loki should have been none the wiser as to the bleach in his shampoo, his inks being replaced with vanishing ones, and the itching powder in his bed. Sif had also hidden bags of color in his laundry, though those would not have taken effect just yet.

When Loki appeared, Thor’s head snapped towards him, feeling both guilty and excited.

But Loki was walking while reading, looking perfectly rested and not even a little bit flustered. He didn’t glance up when he climbed the stairs, nor when he wished Thor a good morning. He served himself oats and honey, bread and smoked fish, eating as though he could barely taste any of it.

“Did you sleep well?” Thor asked.

Loki hummed absentmindedly. “Thank you, I did. And you, brother?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Thor had lain awake all night, wondering how Loki was faring. It was disappointing to see him so chipper.

“Did your date with Járnsaxa go well, then?”

Thor bristled. “Don’t pretend you don’t know!”

Loki blinked up at him, a crease between his brows. “How much of the news do you think reaches me in my study?”

Thor jumped to his feet, the bench screeching across the floor, ready to throw fists.

“Thor,” Frigga said sharply and caught his arm. “The lady Járnsaxa would thank us to not speak of the incident.”

Járnsaxa was notably absent from breakfast, likely licking her wounds after the humiliation. Her whole family was there, though, and throwing angry glances in Thor’s direction. He had been ignoring them so far, and he was not going to change that now.

“Was it that disastrous?” Loki asked innocently—worried even. The gall!

“You slimy weasel—!”

“Thor!” Frigga barked. It quelled Thor immediately. So he sat back down, balled his fists on his knees, and ground his teeth.

“You will simply have to tell me later,” Loki whispered. He pressed his mouth into a tense line. For a moment Thor wondered whether he was hiding some discomfort. Loki coughed and averted his eyes, hand pressed to his lips.

Oh. Oh!

That little snake! He was trying not to laugh!

If Thor had any doubt left that this was Loki’s fault, it was eradicated. Thor’s mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to threaten him when Frigga was mere feet away and watching him like a hawk.

Before he came to a conclusion, Loki’s head snapped up, eyes unfocused as though seeing something that wasn’t there. With a murmured excuse, he hastened back to his rooms. His breakfast lay forgotten where he left it.

Thor was halfway to his feet to follow him, but Frigga’s hand on his arm was an iron grip. “Thor! You’re a grown man; behave like one!”

“I apologize,” Thor mumbled, not meaning it. He did, however, sit back down, sullenly staring ahead. He imagined how he’d wrestle Loki to the ground and choke him until he apologized.

Frigga sighed. “I remember taking my own initiation test. It isn’t a small thing. You are aware that the High Council only accepts a new mage into their midst when a seat opens up? This might be his only chance for millennia, and he’s facing strong competition.”

Thor hadn’t known that.

“Back in my day, applicants would go so far as to sabotage each other’s work. I’m sure it’s nothing as uncivilized anymore, but you must understand that he’s singularly focused. There is a lot resting on this trial. While I don’t know what you two are fighting over, I will ask you to be patient with him.”

“Mother! He is the one torturing me!” Thor said plaintively. “He was the one to—”

“I will hear none of this.” Frigga shot him a pointed look. “Do not groundlessly accuse your brother of such cruelty, Thor.”

So Thor let up on arguing with his mother. This wasn’t her fight, and she wasn’t going to accept of the depth of Loki’s betrayal.

But in his heart, Thor knew this meant war.

Chapter Text

The first step to winning was to know your enemy. Thor was fairly aware of Loki’s likes and dislikes, but he had grown unfamiliar with his habits.

So, having excused himself from dinner, Thor hunkered down on Loki’s balcony. At first, he had opted for spying on the bedroom but quickly realized that Loki hadn’t been using it. Rather, he’d been sleeping in the rumpled cot in his study so that he could keep an eye on his philter.

Loki had managed to avoid all of the traps that Thor had previously laid for him, and if he was going to take this seriously, he would have to know how Loki had done it. So he waited, sipping ale from a flagon, stomach rumbling, and legs growing numb from crouching.

Finally, the door clicked open, and Thor scrambled into position to watch without being seen. Loki’s eyes were immediately drawn to his flasks and burners, checking the setup with thoroughness that bordered on paranoia.

“Thank you for keeping an eye.”

For a second, Thor panicked, thinking Loki had spotted him. But Loki only held out an arm, and his bird fluttered down from the shelves to settle on his wrist so that Loki could scratch its neck.

“Loki friend,” the bird said, looking at him with beady, red eyes. There was a soft fondness in the way Loki handled his bird, something that Thor hadn’t seen in him since childhood.

“One more week and we’re done.” The bird nuzzled his cheek and settled on his shoulder. For a while, Loki went over his notes. He recorded the readings of thermometers and barometers and cast a complex spell that Thor had no hopes of understanding. It seemed to take an eternity before he replaced the quill with a satisfied flourish.

With a sigh and a stretch, Loki began to undress for bed, and Thor felt suddenly very odd sitting outside his window and watching him. Down to his breeches, Loki pulled a tunic out of a chest and paused. It was bright red.

Sif’s dye! Thor had forgotten about it!

“Can you believe him?” Loki laughed and held up the shirt.

“Traitor, traitor.” The bird was hopping around the chest’s lid in obvious agitation.

“A bit clumsy, though I appreciate the effort.” He wrung the shirt between his hands, and the color—quite literally—drained from the fabric. Loki caught the viscous liquid in a bowl and set it aside. When he shook out the tunic, it was pristinely white.

Thor scowled. No wonder nothing had fazed him. If he could undo all tricks with a wave of his wrist, there was little reason for Loki to be put out by Thor’s pranks.

Loki pulled the tunic over his head and began working on the laces of his pants. Thor wasn’t aware that he’d made a noise, but he must have—Loki turned his sharp eyes towards where Thor was hiding in the dark. “Show yourself before I call the guards.”

Thor froze and didn’t move. Loki waited for a moment, then snapped his fingers. The window banged open, and its edge hit Thor in the head.

“Ow!” Thor pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Thor!” Loki’s eyes flew wide. With deliberate care, he placed a dagger on his desk. Thor hadn’t even realized he’d drawn it. “What are you doing out there?”

The jig was up. Thor climbed in through the window, embarrassed and angry. “I saw your bird when I took Járnsaxa to the markets!”

Loki scoffed. “I doubt that very much.”

“There was a white bird!”

Loki shook his head with disgust. “You do realize that Asgard is riddled with doves? Are you still suspecting me of ruining your silly courtship?”

To be fair, Thor hadn’t seen more than a flapping of white wings. It was possible that it had been a dove. “I recognize your tricks when I see them!”

Loki glared at him, his arms akimbo. He emulated their mother’s energy so well in that moment that Thor automatically straightened, ready to be chastised. Instead Loki rolled his eyes, and the tension dissipated. “Fine. I was lying this morning. Of course I heard rumors of your mishap at the markets.” His mouth, again, looked like it wanted to twitch into a smile. “But you must admit that it makes for a very funny story.”

“It’s not funny!”

“Thor. Her clothes dissolved. In the middle of a crowd.” Loki finally gave up on controlling his laughter. “If I had meant her harm—which I don’t—I could not have planned it any better!”

“So you admit it!” Thor grabbed Loki, but his hand went through thin air, and Loki’s clone disappeared. “Show yourself!”

“Please, you know this will get you nowhere.” Loki’s voice came from behind him, and Thor whirled around. Loki was leaning against his dresser, and he was in a gaming mood, going by his grin. “But it is a welcome distraction from my studies, and I’m willing to help you. Tell me what happened. From the start.”

Thor was of half a mind to try and wrest Loki into submission—hadn’t he been sure that the shape leaning against the dresser, too, was an illusion. So he haltingly told him of the damn street magician, gaining momentum the more he remembered his anger with the man. Loki listened intently, looking seconds away from taking notes.

“I will admit that it all sounds highly unlikely,” Loki said slowly. “But I know the man you speak of, and he’s talented. Your járnglófar do repel magic, do they not?”

Thor’s bracers had been a gift for his coming-of-age ceremony and held many wondrous qualities. “They do.”

“Then the spell was reflected back into the crowd. An unlikely and unlucky result, but possible. You could, of course, ask the man in question for his account of actions.”

“I banned him from setting foot on Asgard again.” Thor glowered. “And I still believe this to be your doing.”

Loki sighed. “Everything you’ve mentioned so far could have been an accident.” He threw his hands up in sudden exasperation. “And even if it was me, what would I gain from all this but your repeated ire? Shouldn’t you be looking at someone that might take offense at this courtship? A spurned lover, or a disapproving parent?”

Thor hadn’t really considered that someone else was behind these machinations.

“You could be vying for her affections,” Thor suggested slowly.

A complicated string of emotions passed over Loki’s face. “Do you ever think before you speak? In courting the lady Járnsaxa, I’d make myself a laughingstock. It’d look like I was wooing a mirror!”

Thor’s thoughts ground to a halt. It was true that he had first spotted the Lady Járnsaxa while looking for Loki. From behind, it was easy to mistake one for the other.

He noticed, like he had not in centuries, what Loki looked like: the black hair, slicked back carefully, though a few strands had come loose to brush his chin. His white skin showed a hint of a blush, and his bright green eyes were always seeing too much. Loki, had he been a woman, would have been exactly Thor’s type.

“Whatever it was, it seems she has had enough of trying to date me.”

For a second, Thor could have sworn Loki looked pleased. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?”

“Well. Not very sorry. I’ve never gotten to know her, have I? I’m sure someone else will come along.” Loki seemed fairly unconcerned.

Thor felt the fight go out of him. Loki was right in some ways. He had never wanted for the attention of ladies. But Járnsaxa had been special, and giving up on her wasn’t easily done. With a deep sigh, Thor sat down on Loki’s cot, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs. “I really thought it could have worked. She is lovely, you know? Not as delicate as the other ladies.”

“She is well-respected and carries the right kinds of titles. And the trade relations with Vanaheim could always use strengthening. I’m sure Father would have agreed to the match based on political merit as well.” Loki sat by his side, hands clasped between his knees. He looked a bit worried. “But that is the point, Thor. She would have seen this as a true declaration of interest, naturally leading to marriage.”

Of course Thor knew that. “So?”

Loki’s eyes were wide with shock. “You are nary seven hundred years old! Do you really wish to settle down? To give up on adventures, and raucous celebrations, and other women? Are you ready to raise children?” He sighed dramatically. “You’re hasty in your decisions when emotional, brother. All told, this string of misadventures might have saved you from future pain.”

Thor glowered at him. “I’ve been a man for half a century, Loki. These are the kinds of decisions people expect me to make.”

Loki was silent for long seconds. “Did you truly mean it, then? All of your courtships so far have been rather unserious; rarely on the lady’s part, but always on yours.”

Thor sank against the wall, looking up at Loki’s ceilings. A life with Járnsaxa by his side was easy to imagine. She had both charm and wit; she was beautiful and strong. She would make a good advisor and a beloved queen. “Loki, you don’t know her. She is the kind of woman I could have loved for the rest of my life.”

Loki was biting his lip, and Thor found himself mesmerized by the gesture. He spoke hesitantly. “I’m a bit preoccupied at the moment. But if you truly need help in regaining her attention …” Loki let the sentence hang and glanced up at Thor.

“What do you suggest?” Loki’s plans didn’t always work, but they often held insights that Thor hadn’t considered. Besides, he had shown up on her doorstep with flowers before, which exhausted Thor’s usual repertoire of apologies.

“Is there anything that she has a particular love for or interest in? A pastime she greatly enjoys?”

“She loves hunting,” Thor said immediately.

“Does she?” Loki deadpanned. He had hated hunting for as long as Thor could remember.

“Aye. She said she has brought down stór-dýr before!”

“Well then.” Loki was mulling that over, his bright eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other, as though working through invisible scenarios. “I do have an idea, though it is a bit risky …” He was kneading his hands in a nervous manner, and now Thor had to know. He leaned forward.

“It’s at least worth listening to, right?” Thor wheedled. Still, Loki hesitated, and Thor nudged his shoulder companionably. “Come on, I’m not going to make fun of you.”

“I believe that, in declaring your affections for her, you need to be public. Due to your status, she cannot refuse an invitation without slighting the royal family.”

“True.” Thor felt a bit uncomfortable with that, but Loki was right. And he had promised to listen.

“During the harvest festival, dance with her—three times, no more, no less, as is the rule for a beginning courtship. And after the last dance, you introduce her to Mother and ask her to be your companion at the Midsummer hunt the following day. Are you with me so far?”

“Wouldn’t she be nervous around Mother?” Thor thought with dread of talking to Járnsaxa’s parents.

“Are you really that stupid?” Thor bristled, but Loki spoke over his protestations. “It’s a great honor to speak to the Queen! She was likely angling to get such an opportunity by accepting your bumbling approaches in the first place.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“She was fawning like a barmaidwhile you were drenched in beer and a laughingstock! Yes, she is after your status, and likely for that alone!” The outburst was angrier than Thor had expected. Before he could figure out what had gotten into Loki, he continued, “Now listen, this is the important part: in the forest, there lives a great beast born of powerful magic.”

Oh! Now this was a plan that Thor could get behind. “I’ve never heard of such a beast.”

“It is elusive, but it’s been there for centuries.” Loki retrieved a book from his shelves and opened it to the picture of a bright white hart, its antlers spreading like a great network of branches.

“This is Dwarfish.” Thor frowned at the words he couldn’t read. “Are you sure it lives around here?”

“Positive. See, this paragraph describes how to lure it out.” Loki translated the passage with an ease that Thor envied. Thor spoke some broken Vanir because his mother insisted on it, but no Dwarfish at all. “I would provide the magical powder that attracts it, of course.”

One of the brilliant illustrations showed foodstuff piled high atop a rune circle. “Does this spell require an offering?”

Loki glanced at the picture as though he’d only just seen it. He shrugged. “Well, I managed to summon the beast without it. More importantly, Thor, I’ve never seen anything like this beast before. It has no equal in the Nine.”

“And its antlers are magnificent,” Thor said slowly.

“Precisely! And thus, you must let Járnsaxa make the kill so she might take the trophy. This is your gift to her, and she will think of you whenever she lays eyes on it.”

The plan was too complex for Thor’s liking. Too many things could go wrong. He caught sight of Loki’s wrist, the bracelet Thor had given him glinting in the light. “Couldn’t I just give her some jewelry?”

Loki snapped shut the book with sudden dismissal. “Of course you could.”

Thor narrowed his eyes. “You think it wouldn’t work.”

“After what happened at the markets? No, Thor, at worst, a necklace that you procure from Asgard’s vendors will remind her of her embarrassment. And there is no greater flattery than honoring her skills.” Loki set the book aside with care, fingers tracing the Dwarfish title, which Thor couldn’t decipher. “And you want her to forgive you, don’t you? Do you think a necklace enough?”

Loki’s words rang true. Not that Thor was happy about it. “Fine then.”

Loki set a reassuring hand on Thor’s thigh, clearly pleased with his own cleverness. “Don’t fret, Brother. I’ll find a way to be at the dance. I will make sure that all goes well.”

They parted amicably, and Thor was surprised, once again, at how readily Loki had offered his help. He had expected anger when Loki had spotted him, but Loki had seemed nothing short of pleased to find Thor crouching outside of his window.

Then again, Thor, too, would have been bored out of his mind if locked up in his room for over a month. There was no point in worrying about Loki’s mercurial moods, so Thor concentrated on the task ahead.

**

Things went exactly as planned at the harvest festival. Thor asked Járnsaxa to dance three times, and she agreed each time, though with little enthusiasm. She could hardly decline Thor’s attentions without committing an obvious faux pas.

Loki occupied Mother by the edge of the dance floor, engaging her in a discussion that took all her attention. Thor wondered how he was doing it, since the queen was expected to make her rounds during the festival. But Frigga seemed glad to be so trapped in conversation with her youngest son, possibly owing to his prolonged isolation.

As the third dance came to an end, Thor did not release Járnsaxa’s hand. “My lady, let me introduce you to my mother.” Thor felt a bit sheepish about the whole thing, especially since Járnsaxa uncomfortably glanced at her own parents.

“Of course, your Highness.”

She was less enthusiastic than Loki had predicted. Still, Thor approached Frigga with Járnsaxa on his arm, and Frigga immediately turned to them with great interest and a pleasant smile as he made introductions.

“Járnsaxa, my dear, we have not spoken since you were a child. How fare your parents?”

Járnsaxa curtsied and averted her eyes as decorum dictated. “The harvest was bountiful, and we are honored by your gracious invitation. Asgard is just as grand as I remember.”

There was some pleasant back and forth, though Járnsaxa seemed nervous under Frigga’s sharp attention. Thor could hardly blame her. People were still whispering behind her back, and Thor had caught more than one person pointing and snickering. It took all his control to not shake some sense into those jesters.

“And how do you enjoy the Midsummer celebrations so far?” Loki asked. Járnsaxa was nervous enough that even casual questions put her on edge.

“It is an overwhelming experience.” She was fidgeting and throwing looks to her mother.

“How do you enjoy the markets—”

Thor threw Loki a glare, and he shut his mouth. But with that, Thor doubted she’d stay much longer.

“Lady Járnsaxa, would you join me for the hunt on the morrow?” Thor asked and refused to be embarrassed by the off-key timing.

“It would be my pleasure,” Járnsaxa stuttered.

“Wonderful,” Frigga said with a smile that was a bit too bright. “Járnsaxa, dear, would you excuse us for a moment? I must speak with my son.”

Frigga laid her hand on Thor’s arm—what looked like a gentle touch was a vise-like grip—and led him away. The apologetic look Thor threw Járnsaxa was ignored. The lady was busy scowling at Loki, who was just then asking her opinion on Vanir dressmaking.

“You have been paying the lady Járnsaxa much attention tonight—she must be thrilled,” Frigga said quietly, shaking her head at her ladies as they made to follow them. She led Thor out onto the balcony and out of earshot of the party. “You are aware what your actions imply?”

“Aye. And I do wish to marry her.”

Frigga hummed thoughtfully as they walked down the marble stairs into the illuminated gardens. “My boy, you have come of age. Such declarations will be taken seriously. If you wish to wed, then the Lady Járnsaxa would not be a bad match. But I fear you barely have put thought into getting to know her, have you?”

“And is that not what a courtship is for?”

“It is,” Frigga agreed, but it sounded careful. “I would ask this of you: before making any grand gestures, give it ten years. If you still enjoy her company then, we may speak about a more serious arrangement.”

Thor balked. “Ten years? That’s an eternity!”

“And you will spend thousands more with the woman you marry.” Frigga took his hands and looked up at him with a sad smile. “How I miss the time when you were a little boy and you would listen to your mother.”

Thor smiled sheepishly. “I don’t remember such a time.”

She grinned then, as she would not in public. “Perhaps not. Though the consequences weighed less.” She laid a hand to his face, and Thor turned into her soothing palm. “My dear, be careful. Avoid any accident that would tie her to you before you’re ready for that commitment.”

Thor needed a moment to understand that his mother was asking him to not get Járnsaxa pregnant. He spluttered with indignation. “Of course I will— I know that!”

“And speak with your father before you promise her anything at all.”

“I was going to.” Thor was squirming with embarrassment. He was being chided for something he hadn’t even done yet. “Mother, I promise I have thought it through.”

“Good. Then walk with me and tell me what you like about her.”

**

Járnsaxa was beautiful, even out of makeup and with no ornaments whatsoever. In riding breeches and a simple vest, she took Thor’s breath away in ways she had not when wearing a gown. She sat her horse with the elegance of a natural athlete, and Thor couldn’t take his eye from her. Her focus was sharp as she scanned the treeline. And her eyes—

“We should concentrate on the path, my Prince.”

Having been caught staring, Thor flushed and turned back to the trail. On horseback, Thor, Járnsaxa, and a couple of her lady’s maids had been advancing into the heart of Fagrvidhr.

The game was a common one: a number of hunting parties had set out, each of them aiming to bring the most impressive kill back to the site of the festival. All parties were distracted by the weather; the day was oppressively hot, not a cloud in the steel blue sky, driving the air from Thor’s lungs. Sweat had broken out across his skin, and his shirt was sticking to him as though plastered on. Thor slapped a hand to his neck, killing one of the hundreds of mosquitoes and gnats that were swarming them.

What put him at ease was that Járnsaxa, true to her word, seemed to be enjoying the hunt. For the first time since the disaster at the markets, she appeared relaxed.

Once they were deep in the forest—east of the lake and past the rock formation dubbed the Wise Men—Thor dismounted and bid Járnsaxa do the same. The chaperones stood off to the side, far enough away to give them at least some privacy.

“So you have me alone, my Prince. That was the goal of the exercise, wasn’t it?”

“I wish to provide a distraction. And to gift you something special,” Thor said quietly. He gestured for her to take cover behind a fallen tree, its network of roots providing natural cover.

Thor knelt and spread Loki’s white powder with a pounding heart, worrying he’d look silly doing so. He pulled out the piece of parchment and copied the runes, scratching them into the chalk-dusted dirt.

“I admit I could do with a distraction.” The words were dry and newly informal. The absence of his title was audible. It gave Thor hope.

“I truly feel terrible about what happened.”

“So do I. Let’s not speak of it.” She crouched beside him with a sigh, looking slightly mollified. She had strung her bow earlier and rested it atop her knees. “What are we hunting, my Prince?”

Thor turned to her more fully, finally getting excited. “There is a fantastical beast in these woods, a bright white stag with nestled horns,” Thor said quietly. He described in detail what he had seen in Loki’s books, and watched her eyes light up with interest. “I wish for you to bring it down.”

Though Járnsaxa’s smile was hesitant, even she was not immune to the prospect of such a beast. “And your magic will summon it from the wood?”

“So I hope,” Thor agreed.

“I will admit that you have my attention.”

Thor smiled back at her and indicated they should be quiet to not startle the beast. So they waited, hunkering close to the ground and watching the trap that Thor had laid. The minutes ticked by without a noise or movement beyond small game and the buzzing of insects. And as the silence stretched, Thor’s doubts grew.

What if nothing were to happen? What if Loki had tricked him into embarrassing himself, after all? Thor did not understand why, the moment he was alone with his Loki, all his doubts vanished. Loki’s smiles and his words made it easy to believe he wished for nothing but Thor’s happiness. It was a distracting thought; Thor might have a massive blind spot when it came to his brother.

Before he could continue that line of thought, something changed: the air pressure dropped, the wind picked up, and Thor felt the promise of rain on his face.

Járnsaxa drew a breath and held it, eyes wide with wonder.

From the thicket stepped a white hart, like a phantom from a fairy tale. It was taller than any that Thor had ever seen; to reach the top of its back, he would have to stretch on his toes. It moved with a silence that should have been impossible, as though the forest itself parted around it. With gravitas, dictated by the heavy crown of his horns, the hart stepped into the clearing. Gently, it lowered its nose to the ground, inspecting Thor’s rune circle.

Járnsaxa exchanged an excited glance with Thor. Whisper-quiet, she lifted herself to her knees, nocked an arrow, and aimed. The hart turned its flank, baring its side. Sunlight hit its fur, making it appear pearlescent. Motes of dust danced in the beam.

Járnsaxa exhaled—and released.

Her arrow hit true.

The beast screamed. Blood coated its fur. It startled into a run, and Thor and Járnsaxa vaulted over the tree and pursued. They struggled in matching its run. Thorny underbrush tore at their clothes and skin, and Thor stumbled more than once. It felt as though the forest itself was fighting them.

It didn’t matter.

Only a few paces away, the hart stumbled and fell.

The arrow had torn right through its heart.

With a pained grunt, it exhaled, its massive ribcage shuddering. It stilled, dead.

Though it had fallen in the shadow of the trees, its yellow eyes caught the light so eerily that they seemed to glow from within. Goosebumps raced up Thor’s skin, and he shook himself to dispel the odd feeling—not quite fear, but something adjacent.

Járnsaxa whooped and took Thor’s hand in the heat of the moment. “This is incredible! What manner of deer is this?”

“One that’s ancient and long forgotten.” And Thor wondered, suddenly, that Loki had never given him a name for the beast. In hindsight, it was odd that it hadn’t even come up in conversation.

But Járnsaxa radiated joy, and Thor’s heart soared in response.

**

Thor carried the beast that the lady had slain, dragging it by the hind legs while she protected the antlers from catching in the brush and breaking. It was a cumbersome journey, and despite Thor being in excellent shape, they rested multiple times along the way. Thor couldn’t explain it, but touching the hart seemed to dampen his joy. He had long since stopped being queasy around animal death, but this one had shaken him in ways that he could not name.

When they finally broke through the treeline and rejoined the party, the chaperones leading their horses ahead of them, shouts of awe rose from the celebratory grounds. The nobles that had gathered for the hunt emerged from the white tents that had been pitched, bringing their ale to form a circle around the magnificent beast. Out in the open, Thor again realized the dimensions of the animal. The hart’s antlers were as wide as three men and heavy enough that Thor wondered how the animal had kept its head aloft at all.

Presenting the animal to the judges, Járnsaxa was the center of attention. Though the hunt itself had been a short one, it gained dramatic elements while she retold it. She kept shooting Thor giddy smiles.

Thor dared to relax: Loki had been right. He was solidly back in Járnsaxa’s favor.

“No matter what another brings out of that forest, my dear, I believe you have won the game,” the judge laughed and clasped Járnsaxa’s forearm. Her smile shone like the rising sun.

Thor caught Frigga’s eye among the banquet tables and called out to her. With a smile, his mother excused herself from her current conversation and approached the miracle kill that Járnsaxa had brought down. The hunters parted before her, and she laid eyes on the hart—and she turned as pale as a ghost.

“Oh! What have you done?” She pressed a hand to her mouth, and her eyes were wide with horror as she turned to Járnsaxa. In turn, Járnsaxa’s smile vanished. She looked at Thor with confused betrayal.

“Mother, what do you mean?” Thor laughed.

“You’ve slain the Glýjudýr!”

“What—? That can’t be right,” Thor stuttered. “The Glýjudýr is a child’s tale!”

“Thor, how did you manage this? Did you lure him out under pretense of an offering?” Frigga’s voice held a breathless horror that Thor had never heard before. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the hart. Its fur caught the light with a shimmer that was not of this world. Even in death, even as the carcass lay in shadow, its eyes maintained that strange, magical glow.

“Prince Thor found it, though I slew it,” Járnsaxa said, though her voice was quivering. “I believed it to be no more than an animal.”

Thor felt his mother’s eyes on him for a moment longer before she turned to take Járnsaxa’s arm. “This is no time for appointing blame. You must leave before it wakes. You will bathe in the Norn’s pools until you are as white as Yggdrasil’s roots. Hide there for three days, and never let the coating break. If it cannot find you, the curse won’t set in. Quick, my dear.”

“The curse?” Járnsaxa sounded truly frightened now. “Before it wakes?”

Frigga’s voice was gentle. “The old gods cannot die.”

Thor had seen Járnsaxa humiliated, annoyed, and upset before, but never terrified. She was doe-eyed and close to tears. As Frigga hurried her away from the forest, Thor stared after them, stunned.

The spooked hunting party shrunk back from the carcass of the ancient god—shrunk back from Thor as though this had been his design. Any mood of celebration had turned dark. The contest was forgotten. People began leaving in a haste, whispering among themselves.

Thor stared at the hart.

He had thought the tales of the Glýjudýr were but fairytales. If legend was true, then the death of the hart meant that hunting would become dangerous for years to come. That there would not be wild deer or boar on Asgard’s banquet tables for decades, that the forest would, once more, swallow children to appease its anger.

Thor hadn’t known.

Loki, though …

Loki had set Thor on this path. He had engineered this to curse Járnsaxa, not caring how his hatred harmed Asgard. Loki had lied and betrayed him, ignoring the consequences. And Loki had finally won: he had annihilated Thor’s chance of getting married to Járnsaxa.

And Thor had trusted him blindly.

Thor’s feet moved of their own accord. Rage clouded his vision as he mounted Gullfaxi, barked at the servants to clean up the festival grounds. He turned to Asgard, driving his horse at a breakneck pace, and his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

Loki would pay.

**

Still, Thor paid first.

Before he could reach Loki, his father summoned him to his study. Spitting fire and brimstone, he was laying out the humiliation that Thor had caused the line of Buri and the ruin he had brought to Asgard’s relationship with Vanaheim.

Whenever Thor tried to interrupt, to mention Loki’s role in it all, his father shut him down with a roar.

They were both hoarse and red-faced by the time Frigga let herself in. She was the one in charge of hunting, the one who dealt with Asgard’s ancient bond to the land, and it was she that dealt out his punishment: to repair relations with the hart, Thor was to make nightly offerings for the month to come.

As punishments went, it was mild. And still, Thor wanted to tear Loki apart over getting out of this unscathed.

“I will speak with your brother tomorrow,” Frigga said quietly as they left Odin’s study, side by side. Her eyes were hard as stone. “You will leave this to me, Thor. You have done enough harm.”

“Of course, Mother.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

**

For this final prank, Thor didn’t consult the Warriors or Sif. He felt neither shame nor hesitation as he climbed onto Loki’s balcony that night. Not even the promise to his mother could detract from his righteous anger, cold and heady, driving him forward without a second thought.

He slipped through the window that Loki left open for his bird. The magpie eyed him suspiciously from its perch by the desk.

Loki was in the baths—Thor knew because he had been keeping track of Loki’s habits. Like clockwork, every night around this time, he called the bird inside to watch his philter.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he stared at Loki’s work. The potion was a light violet and formed delicate bubbles. Within the closed system of the glass, it was circulating, over and over, passing curled tubes and dripping back into itself. Before it lay meticulous notes and tables of numbers, a careful graph Loki had plotted out, and a novel’s worth of writing in Vanir script.

“Traitor,” the bird croaked from its perch, quietly, as though it were a question. It set Thor into motion.

There was a half-drunk cup of tea by Loki’s cot. Thor picked it up, and with shaking hands, he found the lid on top of the alchemical contraption. A great shriek tore through the silence. White feathers blocked his vision; claws tore at his cheek.

“Traitor! Traitor!”

“Get off! You—” Thor tore up his arms like a shield. He swatted the magpie from the air, and it fluttered into the desk. It wasn’t stunned for more than a second—not enough for Thor to open the tightly sealed lid—before it rose with renewed fury.

“Traitor!” It was clawing at his hair and pecking at Thor’s eyes. He ducked under his cape, cursing. Finally, he wrested open the lid and picked up the stale tea. The bird screeched in rage and attacked his hand mercilessly. A claw tore through the flesh of his thumb, and blood splattered across Loki’s notes. Thor roared in anger. The teacup shattered to pieces on the floor.

“Enough!” Thor lashed out blindly.

The bird hit the floor with a dull thunk. Thor was heaving his breaths, waiting for it to rise and attack him again.

It shivered and twitched.

Thor waited with bated breath. But the bird did not move.

Oh.

Oh!

“No, no, no!” Thor went to his knees by the tiny, broken body. He didn’t dare touch it, hovering uselessly. “Hold on. I’ll get him; he has fixed you before.”

Thor sprinted to the door. It burst open as he reached it. Loki stood ready to battle, naked but for his untied robe, hair and skin dripping and color high on his cheeks. He spared Thor one glance—furious—and the next went to his potion. “What have you done!?”

“Your bird—” Thor pointed to the heap of feathers on the floor.

The anger drained from Loki’s face. He skidded along the floorboards on his knees, skinning his damp skin. Desperate spells spilled over his lips as he touched two fingers to its small chest. Bones crackled and snapped. Thor winced as the bird’s body knitted itself back together.

Loki lifted the bird with shaking hands, gently pressing it to his chest. There were tears in his eyes, and the words of the spell continued, softly, only halted so he could swallow panicked sobs. His robe had flared out like a puddle around his crouched form, a bright half-circle of gold at the center of the room.

Thor dared neither move nor breathe.

He hadn’t meant it. He had meant to hurt Loki, but not like this.

It took a long time before Loki fell quiet, breathing as though he had run a marathon, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, splotches of color high on his cheeks.

Feathers rustled.

Thor grew weak with relief. He leaned against the door.

The bird kicked its leg and began climbing up Loki’s robe, aided by his shaking hands. She perched on his shoulder, feathers fluffed and body hunched. Her small head pressed against Loki’s cheek, soothing him, her eyes closed. Loki collapsed in on himself, wiping tears from his eyes and leaning into the fragile touch of his bird. He stayed like that for long seconds.

“Out.” The word was spoken so quietly that Thor thought he’d imagined it.

Loki’s spine straightened. Fury radiated from his tense form.

“Out! I wish not speak to you, nor see you, nor think of you ever again!” He rose to his feet, wet and half-naked and looking deranged. There was a magical darkness gathering around him like a storm cloud. ”Out, Thor! You are no longer welcome. You are worse than a Bilgesnipe, for a beast does not know the pain it brings! But you? Oh. You are a cruel and vain child in the form of a man!”

Loki advanced on him, and Thor took a step back.

“You are not worthy of my attentions, not worthy of my love, you are less than the dirt beneath my boots!”

Loki’s hands were glowing with bright, sickly magic, and Thor’s back hit the wall as he could no longer evade.

“Out, Thor! And do not return!”

Thor turned on his heel and fled Loki’s chambers. The cloud of darkness chased him into the hallway, dissipating when the doors slammed behind him.

The reverberating boom shook something loose in Thor’s chest. And for the first time in a long time, Thor was afraid that he had done something he could not fix.

Chapter Text

Thor slunk to breakfast like a beaten dog. He hadn’t slept, and it took time—and hunger—to convince himself to leave his rooms. The feast hall was largely empty, and at the late hour, only Frigga remained at the family table.

“Good morning, Thor,” Frigga said coolly. Considering the disaster with Járnsaxa, Thor hadn’t been surprised had she ignored him.

“Is Loki …?” Loki’s seat was empty, neither plate nor crumbs indicating that he’d been here at all.

“He sends word that he’s sick,” Frigga said and gently put down the letter she’d been reading. She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Thor, her face carefully blank. “Do you know what might have befallen him?”

“No,” Thor mumbled as he sat, shoulders bowed and stomach tied into knots.

“It’s a shame he had to cancel his evaluation.” She sighed. “There might not be another chance for centuries. He will be devastated.”

Staring at the food, Thor realized he couldn’t eat. Guilt was gnawing at him like a furious beast, and he wished for nothing more than to undo his actions. To turn back the clock and make none of it happen.

“What of Járnsaxa?” Thor needed to know, though he feared to hear the answer.

“She’ll spend another two nights submerged in the pools, then she’ll return to Vanaheim. Your father is dealing with the backlash as we speak.” Frigga’s voice was soft, but not kind. “Thor … your father and I have spoken of your future.” She reached out and put her hand on his, cool and smooth. “We would like it if you kept out of the political light for a few months, my dear. For your own sake and the sake of Asgard.”

Thor nodded, thoroughly chastised. When he finally ate a few spoonfuls of porridge, it settled in his guts like a stone.

**

Thor called on Loki every day thereafter, each time being rejected. He didn’t sleep much, he barely ate, and the only thing that soothed him was drinking. He succumbed to it a couple of times, missing obligations and appointments—though never the nightly offerings to the hart.

It wasn’t difficult to find his way back to the center of the forest. The path which Járnsaxa and Thor had taken to drag that God’s carcass had split the forest like an open wound. Where the corpse had touched the ground, the moss had rotted, trees withered, and the ground absorbed no water. Animals avoided it, birds did not fly over.

Every night, Thor walked parallel to the scorched earth, a glowing runestone held ahead of himself. He dared not look too closely at the shadows, which were alive with entities that weren’t of this world. At the end of the path, he knelt in the soft, wet earth and laid out his offerings: fruit and bread, honey and bones, milk and blood. Frigga never offered an explanation when she handed him the basket, and Thor suspected Loki might understand the what they meant better than he did.

By the end of the second week, he realized he could draw the circle from memory. Still, he did not feel safe while he scratched out the runes. As always, he spread the offerings and watched them til moonrise. As always, there was a distinct shift in the air pressure as the hart drew near. A flicker of white skittered through the underbrush and—his heart racing, hair standing on the back of his neck—Thor turned around and left.

Frigga had warned against facing the hart so shortly after its resurrection. Thor had not yet found a desire to disobey.

Later that night he was lost in melancholy, staring at the canopy above his bed, head pounding with drink and stomach writhing with guilt. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He rose in full darkness, dressed hastily, and vaulted from his own to his brother’s balcony.

There was light in Loki’s rooms, a gentle flicker of candles and low-burning fireplaces. With tentative hope, Thor rapped his knuckles on the glass and waited.

And waited.

Eventually, the bird appeared behind the curtains and peeked at him, then disappeared back inside. Loki’s voice reached him through the glass as an annoyed murmur.

Thor knocked again, more insistently. And when that didn’t evoke a reaction, he kept up a constant gentle tapping, leaning against the wall as he waited.

The door was flung open so suddenly that it hit Thor in the knuckles.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Loki was scowling, and the magpie on his shoulder was glaring at Thor with its eerie, red eyes.

“Loki, I’m wretched,” Thor burst out. He had thought endlessly about what to say, but the careful words had fled his mind. “I didn’t mean to … I hadn’t … I was so angry, and I didn’t think.”

“You always are, and you never do,” Loki hissed. “And I wish that you left me alone.”

“Tell me how I can make it right. Anything!”

Loki pressed his lips into a thin line. “Have you given up on the Lady Járnsaxa?”

The question took Thor aback. “Does it matter?”

“Just tell me.” Loki couldn’t meet Thor’s eyes.

Thor was desperately confused by Loki’s obsession with her. “Loki, I don’t care about her. In truth, I haven’t thought of her since she went to Yggdrasil’s roots.”

Loki winced at that. So he did feel guilty for harming her. The bird hopped from one shoulder to the other, and Loki didn’t seem to be noticing. He stood a moment longer, biting his lip and thinking, then he opened the doors wide enough for Thor to come in.

Thor was nauseous with relief. He followed Loki inside, feeling as though the floors were tilted oddly, always leading towards his brother.

Loki had been reading by the fire, if the heaps of books and loose notes were any indication. He sank down in one of the opulent armchairs, stretching his feet out on the gold-threaded carpet. The bird fluttered up to take its place on the mantelpiece. Usually, it held an assortment of magical trinkets, but it was now clean and empty, serving solely as a perch for the bird.

“Traitor,” it muttered as it hopped along the ledge, following Thor’s movements closely.

“Is your magpie doing better?” Thor asked, because he had to. In his nightmares, he had killed the bird a hundred times over.

“She’ll never fly long distances again. She cannot return to the wild.” Loki’s voice was flat and angry, and Thor winced at the truth. He hadn’t wanted to know, but he couldn’t live without knowing, either.

“Is she … is she still in pain?”

Loki glanced at him sharply, but whatever he saw in Thor’s face softened his words. “No, Thor, she’s not. She will live a long life under my care, likely a better one than she’d have on her own. Nature isn’t kind to deviants.”

“I’m sorry, Rúna,” Thor told the bird and felt a bit silly. But her eyes were fiercely intelligent, and he suspected she understood every word they spoke. “I lashed out in anger. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Hurt,” the magpie croaked. “Loki hurt.”

Loki watched his bird with a flat expression and didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t present your potion,” Thor said. “Why? Rúna protected it from …” He let the sentence dangle.

“You opened the closed system. The air was more than enough.” Loki pointed at a flat-bottomed flask that sat on his desk. It was filled with a burnt-looking, brown sludge. “It had turned into that by morning.”

Thor stared. He had known that the experiment was delicate, but he hadn’t expected it to need so little handling to turn disastrous.

“On the upside, I get to sleep again,” Loki said with dry humor. It clearly wasn’t true, seeing that he was awake right now. “Stop looming, Thor, sit down.”

“What was the potion for, anyway?” Thor asked. He sat on the edge of the armchair’s seat, hands folded between his knees.

Loki sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There are ways to link two minds magically, but the working takes an effort to uphold. It’s flawed, and strenuous at best. For a long time, Vanaheim’s alchemists have tried to find a potion that would accomplish the same thing, but it usually turns solid the moment it’s exposed to air. I thought to find a way to stabilize it.”

“Oh,” Thor said quietly. “And that … it’s difficult?”

Loki waved it off with a nonchalance that looked fake to Thor. “It was a partial failure. If I had succeeded, your tampering shouldn’t have done any harm.”

“Is that how you see through Rúna’s eyes?”

Loki briefly looked pleased before remembering to scowl. “That’s not exactly how it works.”

“And you can cast spells through her.” Thor was watching the bird. “That’s how you played the trick at the markets.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loki said lightly. “But, yes, the potion did stay liquid for a few hours so that I could share it with her. And now, I must return to the start and try to find ways to improve my work.”

He lapsed into rambling descriptions of the ingredients and their uses and what he was planning to alter in the next batch. And as he talked and talked, explaining how difficult it was to procure what he needed, Thor listened and wondered whether Loki hadn’t been lonely throughout the past weeks.

Maybe that was why he had latched onto Thor’s courting; Thor was the only one besides their mother to stop by Loki’s rooms for the sake of conversation.

Halfway through his explanation, Loki had gotten up to pace and only came to a stop as the words ran out. He sighed softly, staring through the last glimmer of the coals with unfocused eyes. “It will take weeks to prepare it all, three at least to gain entrance to Eitri’s mines. If Father allows me to travel at all after … Well. We’ll see.” Loki looked so unhappy that it hurt. And the last resentment Thor had felt for his brother slowly dissipated.

When the sun came up, Thor stood and pulled Loki into a hug. At first, Loki was stiff in his arms, then he melted against him, resting his forehead against Thor’s shoulder.

“I am truly sorry for what I’ve done.”

“So you keep saying,” Loki said wryly. “Don’t think you are forgiven this easily.” Still, he returned Thor’s hug.

It was a start.

**

The next morning, Thor woke up to find the bird on his nightstand.

“What—”

“Traitor,” the bird greeted him, but it didn’t seem malicious. Possibly, within the limited vocabulary the bird possessed, that was simply the word it had picked for Thor.

Thor watched her with bemusement, but she was preening and ignoring him. So he washed and dressed and went down to breakfast, ignoring the bird as it rode on his shoulder.

While at first surprised, Frigga seemed seemed pleased by his arrival in the company of Rúna. Loki himself was nowhere to be seen. “Have you made up with your brother, my dear?”

“Not yet,” Thor admitted. “Though I hope we are on a good path.”

Odin grunted his approval. “Leave them be, Frigga. Brothers always fight, and they always make up.”

Finding that his appetite had returned, Thor loaded his plate with eggs, meats, and bread. The bird hopped onto the table began pecking through it all. Thor was too confused to stop her and admittedly relieved that she was comfortable in his company. However, when she stepped into his porridge to get to the salmon, he procured a second plate. Everything she had pecked at, he shoveled onto that. Her portion was larger than his.

“Has Loki sent you?” Thor asked as the bird, ignoring Mother’s half-smile as she was watching them.

“Rúna send Rúna,” the bird said and looked up at Thor with eyes that were far too intelligent.

“To do what?” Thor asked around bites of egg.

“Potion,” Rúna said as though it was obvious. She then drank from Thor’s cup and immediately tipped it over. Water spilled onto his plate. There was a scuffle as he tried to catch her while she was hopping around the table in agitation.

“Maybe you should break fast in your rooms while you have a guest,” Frigga suggested, trying not to laugh.

**

Over the course of the next days, the bird followed Thor everywhere, riding on his shoulder or atop his head, repeatedly nagging him about “Potion” and “Loki.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” The magpie had woken him in the middle of the night, sitting on his chest and staring at him with bright, red eyes. Didn’t birds sleep at night? “I’ll get the stuff from the Dwarves. That’s what you want, right?”

“Dwarves,” the bird agreed. And then it added, “Giants. Elves.”

Thor grumbled and got up, cupping the small, feathered body against his chest and setting it on his shoulder. He sneaked across the balconies and through the open study window into Loki’s rooms. It took Thor longer than he’d expected to find the list of ingredients that Loki had shown him a few weeks prior. When he did, it was useless—half of it was recorded in languages he didn’t speak, and the other half he had no idea where to get from. So he tore it from Loki’s notes to inspect by daylight.

In the morning, he took it to the library for translation. And he asked permission of his father to travel to the Dwarfish mining operations on Svartalfheim. Thor had expected to get into a fight then, but Odin was surprisingly accommodating.

“Have you carried out your mother’s punishment?”

“I have.” The month had passed quickly, and Frigga had assured him that his part of the ritual was done.

“Then I see no reason to keep you.” Odin shot him a knowing look. “You have been distracted. I expect this adventure to clear your head.” And just like that, Thor was dismissed.

Shouldering his travel bag, he was only mildly surprised that the bird fluttered to ride on his head.

“Traitor."

“I know. I’m fixing it.” Thor scratched her neck, the way he’d seen Loki do. On his way out, he slipped a letter under Loki’s door. It said nothing more than that he’d be back in a fortnight and that Rúna was with him.

And so, Thor set out to the wastelands of Svartalfheim.

**

Never having bothered to learn Dwarfish was a slight disadvantage, Thor thought as he listened to his three local guides argue about the safety of his mission.

The red-headed one turned to him and said in thickly accented Asgardian, “I take you halfway.”

“That is enough,” Thor agreed.

“Beyond that, you get stuck.” The Dwarf gestured to indicate Thor’s height and width. “I not responsible.”

“Rúna,” the bird said, clinging to the back of Thor’s travel cloak and pulling it askew. “Rúna help.”

“We’ll see,” Thor said.

**

The mines were as narrow as they were dark, making claustrophobia a constant companion. Thor moved through tight spots with care, stepping over puddles and breathing stale air, holding the glowing runestone before him. He was getting continuously more worried that the Dwarf had been right: Thor was too large. He shouldn’t be down here.

At least Loki knew how to shapeshift—surely this would have been easier for him.

They arrived at a gap in the stone, so tight that Thor could not fit in his arm past the elbow. At the end of it lay the promising blue glow of the moss that he sought.

“Rúna help,” the bird said and hopped down Thor’s outstretched arm. Awkwardly, she shuffled through the crack. Using her beak and claws, she peeled sheets of glowing moss off the walls and tossed them to Thor.

“Good bird,” Thor praised her and shoveled the moss into his travel pouch.

Rúna made a noise that sounded suspiciously like Loki scoffing.

**

The second ingredient required a trip to Jötunheim.

“I know you haven’t asked the king’s permission,” Heimdall said, eyes blazing like the stars he was watching.

“It’s for a good cause, Heimdall. I won’t bring trouble to Asgard. And my father doesn’t expect me back for a fortnight!”

“You are asking me to commit treason. My Prince.”

“I have wronged my brother and I know not how else to make it right.” Thor did not often resort to begging, but this seemed like the time. “Heimdall, my friend, please. Do not treat me as the boy you have known, but the man you know I will become.”

Heimdall gave him a hard stare. “Very well. I will grant you this chance. Do not make me regret it.”

Thor grinned and agreed.

**

He was lucky to not spot a single Frost Giant on his trip—but he suspected that the location in which Heimdall had dropped him had much to do with it.

By the shore of a hot spring, Thor knelt to pick butter-yellow flowers. Delicately, he pressed them between sheets of vellum and ice, as Loki’s instructions had detailed. It took him a few times to not destroy what he was trying to preserve.

Rúna was riding in Thor’s jacket, hiding inside the thick furs. Her beak was peeking out of his collar at times, supervising his harvest. Commenting snidely, as well, though Thor likely deserved it. This kind of work made him feel clumsy and slow.

“Another one down,” Thor muttered when he finally turned around, fingers stiff with cold, and his breath freezing his beard.

Rúna squawked with delight.

**

On Alfheim, Thor climbed mountains until his head was light and his heart pumping fast. Rúna hopped from boulder to boulder ahead of him, urging him on.

Tracing the Eldarnar had taken him days, and he had been watching the nest all morning. Finally, the eagle had taken flight to hunt, its wingspan so large that it blotted out the sun.

Thor pulled himself up into the nest, filled with naked and screeching hatchlings, each one of them as tall as Thor.

“Shush, I mean you no harm,” Thor said urgently, but the birds wouldn’t quiet. “Rúna, can you talk to them?”

“Child-child. Only scream.” In that, all infants were probably similar.

But Rúna had already found what they were looking for, hopping up and down on the other side of the nest and chattering with excitement. Thor scrambled to escape the curious beak of a blind chick. The piece of blue eggshell was as large as his head. It would do.

The sky darkened. The Eldarnar’s angry screech shook him to the bone. Thor grabbed both the shell and Rúna and ran. He dove over the nest’s rim, sheltering the bird against his body, just as talons as large as his forearm tore through the nest’s walls.

It was a wild chase that followed, and Thor, more than once, thought he was done for. In the end, they found a crevice to hide in, too small for the eagle’s beak to reach them. Thor pressed his back against a rock as the furious bird scratched and snapped inches from his face. They waited out its rage until nightfall.

**

Another dozen ingredients later, Thor and Rúna were on their way home.

**

“Loki, Loki!” the bird chattered with excitement. Loki beamed while welcoming her home, showering her with pets and soft praise. Loki gently inspected her wings, then her feet, assuring himself she was whole. She was holding still, clearly humoring him. Thor, in the meantime, was kept waiting at the threshold to Loki’s chambers. His heart gave a heavy thump as Loki’s sleeve slipped and revealed the bracelet that Thor had gifted him.

“So you have returned, though I know not whence.” The flatness of his voice indicated he was addressing Thor rather than Rúna.

“Indeed.” Thor picked up the chest he had set by the doorstep and presented it to Loki. “And I have brought you gifts.”

Loki stopped his inspection of his pet bird and frowned. “That is a curious design. Where have you been, Brother?”

Thor stared at the box. When his travel bag had torn, he’d been passing through some remote village on Alfheim. The chest had been crafted and painted by a woman as old as time, her eyes mere pinpoints amidst wrinkles.

“Come on, take it.” Thor proffered the box more insistently.

Loki took a step back and let him inside. Thor went straight to his study, where he set it down on his desk.

Loki opened the box with one last suspicious glance at Thor—and paused. One after another, he lifted out the pouches and flasks, picked up the piece of shell that Thor hadn’t dared powder in advance, let his fingers slide over labels lettered in Thor’s wobbly handwriting.

Rúna hopped off Loki’s shoulder. He steadied her with what looked like an unconscious gesture, just as Thor reached out to do the same. She perched on the lid of the box and watched Loki curiously. “Rúna help.”

“So it seems,” Loki said, still focused on the chest’s contents. “I had wondered where my list went.”

“Right.” Thor had almost forgotten about that. He dug it out from his pocket. The parchment was annotated and translated in Thor’s hand, tearing where he had kept folding it. It was stained from deserts and rain forests, and the ink had bled where Thor had dropped it in the still pools of Niflheim.

Loki gently accepted it and smoothed it out on the polished surface of his desk, comparing item by item what Thor had procured.

“All of it,” Loki said softly. He looked up at Thor. His eyes were wide and confused, vulnerable enough to steal Thor’s breath. “Why?”

“Because I ruined it.”

“As I ruined your courtship. We were even.”

“I … I almost killed …”

Loki looked pained when he admitted, “It was an accident, Thor. Since Rúna has forgiven you, it would be in poor taste for me to not do the same.”

Thor couldn’t explain why it hadn’t felt like the scales were in the balance. Of course, harming Rúna had made Thor lie awake at night, worrying. But Loki had hated Járnsaxa enough to kill an ancient God. It had been thoughtlessly destructive, but the way Loki had arranged it—exposing himself as the culprit—bordered on desperate. Something was off, and Thor needed to fix it.

“You had a reason for what you did, though I don’t understand it. When I destroyed your work, I only meant to hurt you.”

Loki closed the lid of the chest. Softly he agreed, “I did have my reasons.”

“Would you not tell me?”

Loki paused, lost in thought. He threw Thor a glance that carried much emotion, all in a great jumble. Then he shook his head as though to clear it. He picked up the chest to store it on his shelves. “No, Thor. Not tonight.”

Thor felt at a loss. How could he avoid angering Loki if Loki wasn’t going to tell him what he’d done wrong?

“Thor friend,” Rúna croaked, breaking the tension.

“So you do know my name!” Thor gaped at her. “She kept calling me a traitor!”

Loki laughed with surprise, bright and joyful. “You were pranking me, dear Brother. She wasn’t fond of it.”

“You started it!”

Loki smiled slyly. “Did I? I have no memory of that at all.”

Before Thor could argue, Loki pulled him into a hug. A proper one, not the half-hugs they awkwardly exchanged from time to time. Loki’s arms were warm and heavy on Thor’s back, and he set his chin on Thor’s shoulder, pressing their cheeks together, with no air left between their bodies.

“You are forgiven,” Loki said against the shell of his ear, and Thor shivered with relief. Thor gathered him up and swung him around, ignoring his squawk of protest. The painful unhappiness that had been sitting in his chest finally gave way, rising up in his throat and turning to tears. He turned his nose into Loki’s floral-scented hair and breathed him in.

“I’m glad,” Thor managed. He pulled back far enough to kiss Loki’s forehead, just below the hairline. Loki looked at him, wide-eyed and stunned. He hesitated for a moment before he once more leaned into the hug, face buried against Thor’s neck.

Truly, Thor was relieved enough that he wanted for nothing else. His courtship of the lady paled in comparison to what his brother meant to him. He swore to himself, then and there, that he’d wait with courting until he’d found a maiden that Loki approved of.

“I love you, Loki.”

Loki became very still in his arms. Then he let out a great puff of air, half a laugh. “Let’s skip dinner. I will order food to my rooms, and you can tell me about your adventures.”

“You hate it when I tell stories.”

“To be fair, most of your quests are idiotic, and so are you retells—”

“Hey!”

“—however, since you completed this one for me, I would be well pleased to hear it all.” Loki smiled in a way that made Thor’s stomach feel tight. “I’d like to hear of your hardship so that I feel validated for forgiving you so easily.”

“Easily?” Thor gaped at him in disbelief, then gestured to the chest on Loki’s shelf. “It took a fortnight! I procured these at great cost to myself!”

“And I should like to hear all about it.” Loki squeezed his shoulder and slid out of his embrace to ring for a servant.

**

Loki shook him, and Thor startled awake. The fire was low and cast Loki’s skin in warm hues, a wrinkle of concern on his brow. It seemed Thor had fallen asleep in Loki’s armchair.

“It is late. You should go to bed.” Loki’s voice was dark and soft.

Thor grasped Loki’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. He was tipsy and comfortable, and though his room was just down the hall, he felt reluctant to leave. He couldn’t, not so soon after he had won Loki back. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

There was something complex happening on Loki’s face. Thor was too tired to guess at it. “The bed is large enough for two.”

“The bed, then.”

Beneath dark green silk sheets, with an arm thrown across Loki’s stomach, Thor was reminded of how they used to crawl into each other’s beds and sleep entangled as children. And when Loki leaned to place a kiss on his lips, Thor felt warm and at home.

“You haven’t done that since we were boys,” Thor murmured.

Loki remained silent for a while, watching him. There was an odd heaviness in the air. The shadows were deep and reality fuzzy. It all felt like they hovered at the edge of a dream.

“Go back to sleep, Thor,” Loki said and began to get up. “I have work to do.”

“Don’t,” Thor caught his wrist. “Stay with me.”

Loki still hesitated.

“I’ve missed you, brother.”

When Loki exhaled, it sounded like defeat. He lay down by Thor’s side, his back turned. Thor drew Loki close, pressed his nose against his nape, and let Loki’s breathing lull him to sleep.

**

Thor woke late the next morning. He blinked at the golden sunlight and took a moment to get his bearings.

Loki was curled up against his chest, head tucked under his chin. He had folded himself up as small as a child. Thor pressed his lips to the crown of Loki’s head and breathed in the perfume of his hair. Loki woke briefly and blinked up at him. Thor kissed his cheek. A great wave of peace washed through him.

He drifted back into half-formed dreams.

**

The second time he woke, it was nearly noon. He found himself half dangling off the bed, knuckles grazing the floor. There was a crick in his neck, and he needed to piss. He rose with a groan. Another body was sprawled on the far end of the bed, black hair spilling over his neck and pillows. The sheet had slipped to reveal his naked back.

Thor blinked. Whom had he followed to bed? He didn’t—

The croak of a magpie snapped reality back into place. Loki, not a lover. Just Loki.

“Good morning, Rúna,” Thor roughly greeted the magpie as she hopped onto Thor’s knees. He petted her dutifully. “Go wake Loki.”

Rúna cocked her head and didn’t move.

“Coward.” Thor went to the baths to relieve himself and rinse his mouth, getting rid of the taste of sour ale. When he returned, Loki had rolled onto his back.

The sunlight flowed over his skin like a golden river, splashing into the shadows beneath his chin, caressing his collarbones, dipping at his navel. His hair was a wild crown around his head. His lips were soft with sleep, one side of his face red and pillow-creased.

Thor dragged a tired hand over his face. It was late enough that they’d missed breakfast. He sighed and crawled across the bed to shake Loki awake.

Loki startled and flailed, and Thor barely caught his elbow before it cracked him in the nose.

“Thor?” Loki croaked, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Oh. Right.”

Thor hesitated a moment, then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Loki’s. “Good morning.”

Loki stared at him, speechless.

Thor leaned off the side of the bed, pulling on his tunic. “We overslept. Would you meet me for lunch?” He squinted at the position of the sun. “Though we might even be late to that.”

“Of course.” The answer came slowly.

Thor briefly considered braving the hallways, then decided that the balconies were a better choice while he was rumpled and unwashed.

“Thor—”

Thor turned back around, one foot on the windowsill.

Loki seemed to be struggling to find words. He looked everywhere in the room but at Thor’s face. “We’re not children. You cannot kiss me.”

“Oh,” Thor’s stomach dropped. He sat down on the windowsill, trying to understand why that felt wrong. “We’re not in public.”

“We’re not.” There was a haunted look in Loki’s eyes. “Why would you kiss me at all? You keep doing it. You have …” He trailed off and pressed his fingertips to his lids. “Norns, I’m not yet awake. Just go, Thor.”

“You’re my brother. I love you. Can I not do something nice in the spur of the moment? Must you question everything I do?” His heart was beating fast and hard. “Also, you kissed me first!”

“What do you—”

“You kissed me! Last night, you kissed me, and then you tried to leave.” Thor wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but it had felt wrong at the time, and it annoyed him now.

Loki visibly gathered himself. “Then I, too, would ask you to graciously forgive what I did in the spur of the moment.”

None of it sat right with Thor. “If that’s what you want.”

“Excellent.” Loki glared at him. “Will you stop scowling?”

“Why is this a point of contention? Why must you turn everything into a fight!?”

“I’m not doing anything! You are!” Loki was exasperated enough to stand and pace. He wore nothing but his breeches. When he lifted his hands to run through his hair, the muscles of his back shifted in the warm light of noon. “You must know what this looks like, what it—” he bit off the sentence.

“What does it look like?” Thor growled, anger simmering low in his belly. “Like I care for my brother? Like I love you? And to whom does this look like anything? We’re alone!”

“Thor, you can’t—” Something in Thor snapped.

“Why do you always put these, these walls between us? Why can I never do anything right? You punish me, and mock me, and you hold me at arm’s length! Some days I think you don’t—” The lump in his throat was strangling his words.

Loki closed his eyes and pressed a hand over his eyes. His back was turned, his shoulders tense. “Please, just leave.”

“No!”

“Thor!” When he turned around, his eyes were swimming with unshed tears. “Just leave me!”

“No,” Thor said more softly and held out both hands. Time stood still as Loki watched him, fighting an inner battle.

“I won’t leave,” Thor said. “I only just got you back.”

With an exasperated eye roll, Loki offered his hand in turn. Thor stood and pulled him close. Loki swallowed. He wouldn’t meet Thor’s eyes.

“Why do you kiss me, Thor?” he asked, voicelessly.

“I’ve told you. I love you.”

And when he tilted back his head, eyes liquid with desperate sadness, Thor kissed him. Not the way one should kiss a brother, but the way Thor had wanted to kiss Loki for a long time now.

He just hadn’t known.

Loki drew a sharp breath—and then he melted against Thor and opened his mouth. Thor could feel his tears on his face and taste them on his lips, and he brushed a thumb over Loki’s cheeks to dry them. Never separating their mouths for longer than a second. He walked him backwards to the bed, and when Loki’s calves hit the mattress, Loki let himself fall on his back. He lifted his chin as Thor’s lips explored his neck and collarbone, his breath stuttering as Thor lifted his hips and pushed him further up the bed.

“Thor—” he muttered. His lids fluttered shut as Thor trailed a hand down his sides and dipped into his waistband. And as Thor kept kissing him, he realized that he’d never truly kissed anyone before.

Never like this.

Never had he been this lightheaded, never had he lost track of his thoughts, never had his pulse been this loud in his ears. He felt like he was floating, and his skin was alive with Loki’s touch. Thor cupped Loki through his pants, and Loki arched off the bed. His eyes grew dark, and his nails dug into Thor’s back.

“I love you.” Thor heard the surprise in his own voice. He finally realized the breadth and depth of all that that meant. “Loki, I love you.”

“I didn’t know,” Loki said with wonder.

Thor tore off his tunic and tossed it aside. There was a frantic quality to Loki’s touches, the noises that he made; moans that caught in his throat as he forgot to breathe, whimpers when Thor brushed his nipples. Thor helped him out of his breeches, and found him hard and wanting.

“I—” Thor choked on the words as Loki pulled him on top of himself. “I’ve never— Not with a man.”

“I promise, you will do just fine.”

He rolled Thor on his back, and with a whisper of magic, he vanished his pants and underthings. Loki straddled him, all graceful, sleek muscle and smooth planes of skin. His cock jutted upwards, fully erect, tip flushed. Thor held his hips, as he would with a woman, and Loki steadied himself against Thor’s shoulders. He reached behind himself and between his cheeks, lips falling open, a crease of concentration between his brows.

“Brother,” Thor whispered and cupped his face. Loki shivered and pressed into his hand, kissing his palm. He made eye contact as he sucked two of Thor’s fingers into his mouth. Thor marveled at the sensation. The soft wetness of Loki’s mouth and tongue went straight to his cock.

“It needs a bit of patience. Just push in and out. And, Thor—for once in your life, be gentle. Slowly.”

Loki took his hand and guided it beneath his body. Thor found his hole puffy and open, and slipped inside him with unexpected ease. Hot, slick skin closed around his fingers. Loki’s eyes fluttered shut, and his hips snapped forward. Thor worked his fingers in and out of him, massaging his entrance and soft insides until Loki’s silent breaths turned into moans. His balls were resting against Thor’s palm, his wrist.

This was all Thor needed. He drank in the way Loki came undone: with his kiss-bitten lips and his glassy eyes, his breathing shallow and desperate, and his hips strained against Thor’s steady hands.

“Enough. I’m ready.” Loki’s thighs were shaking, his cock leaking.

Thor removed his hand, heart beating so fast he was lightheaded. Loki positioned himself, grabbed Thor’s cock with sure hands, and Thor pressed his hips into the mattress so he wouldn’t move. For a moment, time stood still, and Thor was sure this was a dream, that none of this could be happening—

Then Loki sank down on him. The tight heat of his body stole Thor’s thoughts, and he did not miss them. Loki’s eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth fell open. Thor grabbed his hips and held him right where he wanted him.

“You’re allowed to move, you know,” Loki muttered.

Thor rammed up into Loki, and Loki yelped, hips straining to move under Thor’s hands.

“Brute.” The way he laughed, it wasn’t much of an admonishment. There was a bit of negotiation as Loki found an angle that he liked. And then, Thor fucked him, steady and slow, glorious and perfect. Fucked him until Loki was reduced to a mess, squirming and whimpering, barely holding himself upright, and only with Thor’s help. Thor ran his fingers up his torso, feeling his appreciative hum against his hands. And when he looked down at Thor, his eyes filled with unabashed love, Thor forgot to breathe. Thor had not known that he needed this, had not dare think it. He’d been hungry for so long that he’d forgotten he was starving. Norns, he was—

“Thor. I’m close.”

Thor rolled them over and put Loki on his back. Loki all but folded in half, his knees wrapping around Thor’s hips, clinging to his shoulders. Thor kissed him and fucked into him, hard enough that it must have hurt. Loki didn’t seem to care.

“Touch me,” Loki begged, sharing his breath. Thor wrapped a hand around Loki’s cock and pumped, a bit awkwardly before he found a rhythm. It didn’t take long before Loki went taut as a wire under him. He threw his head back and released a breathless scream, spilling silver on his stomach. His cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving. Thor kept fucking him, and Loki breathed sharply with every thrust, kissing him and urging Thor on with quiet words. Too soon, Thor’s vision turned white, and he tipped over the edge. Release washed through him like a wave, and he came buried deep inside of his brother.

After catching his breath, he slipped out of Loki and fell by his side. Loki groaned, and melted into the covers. The silence between them was lazy. Sunshine, bird noise, their breaths slowly evening out.

The thought came to Thor unbidden. “This is why you hated Járnsaxa.”

A pillow hit him in the face, hard enough to explode into feathers. Thor spluttered and tossed it aside.

“What kind of idiotic observation is that? Yes, you big oaf, I didn’t want you to marry some floozy that looked like me!”

“I … I tried not to think about that.”

Loki crawled onto his chest and glared down at him. “I cannot believe you.” He kissed him, hard enough that Thor tasted copper. Possessive and jealous.

Jealous.

Loki had been jealous this whole time. Buri’s balls, Thor had been blind. This was why it always felt like Loki was speaking in riddles and half-truths. Why every moment spent with him felt like it wasn’t enough.

“I won’t marry. Not Járnsaxa, nor anyone else,” he promised Loki, knowing it was true. “Not as long as you’ll have me.”

Loki looked annoyed and rolled off of him and into a sitting position. He ran fingers through his hair. A flash of magic cleaned the mess from his chest and belly, the sweat from his skin, tidied his hair. “Don’t be childish. Both of us will marry, not for our own sake but for that of Asgard.”

And with that, Thor was completely confused. “Then why—”

“Because you would have loved her.” Loki looked at his hands, folded between his knees. He exhaled slowly and covered his mouth. “I couldn’t bear seeing you happy. Not with her. I didn’t enjoy what I did—not that last bit, not the killing—but it never felt like I had a choice. I couldn’t live … I thought I could live with your hatred …” He trailed off, helpless.

Thor sat up, cross-legged. “In a million years, I could not hate you.”

Loki shook his head. For once, his words did not cover his feelings, and his pain was visible in the tension of his bent back, in every bump of his spine. Thor wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him close.

“Loki. You’re my one and only brother. No one could replace you.” He kissed Loki’s neck. “Never doubt that I love you, more than anyone.”

Loki twisted around and met his eyes with a longing that was deep and old. He nodded. And Thor had not known how much he’d missed this: Loki trusting him.

“You sentimental oaf,” Loki said softly. “I love you, too.”