Archive of Our Own

The whole kingdom breathed a sigh of relief when first one week of mild weather passed, then two. Summer was a taste on the wind and winter ready to be forgotten as farmers plowed their fields to make ready for new crops.

One early morning when the training fields had thawed to mud and the sun was only just pushing into a grey sky, the king and the crown prince rode to inspect the troops. It was an event which was cause for some fanfare, trades-workers, children, and the elderly gathering at the border between the sprawling meadow and the edge of town to set up cooking fires and gossip about how winter had handled the warriors.

Their laughter was a distant cloud as Thor rode down the lines, a head behind his father. His scaled armor had been polished into brilliancy and on his shoulders lay a new cloak, commissioned since his previous one had yet to be reclaimed. His winged helm was new too, a gift from his father for his eighteenth birthday, and he showed it off with his head held high.

Loki rolled his eyes from where he stood on the steps of the palace, dressed in black and green because Frigga said it suited him. His new emerald cloak a gift from her to encourage his agreement and at the very least he could admit it was warm. A wind splashed against the the walls of the castle, sent the banners snapping and Loki reached up to shove a loose strand of hair behind his ear again.

Thor cast what he believed to be a subtle glance over his shoulder at the group in front of the palace, high ranking officials and distinguished guests the lot of them. Even from from several hundred feet away he could tell Loki raised an eyebrow at him and he snapped back to attention. He refused to blush.

There were five thousand warriors gathered for the year’s first review, though Asgard could assemble a hundred times that amount in a matter of days if the need were to arise. These were the capitol guard. The best trained, most honourable of men and women. They would serve directly under the king should war be declared, and Thor knew that he was expected to lead them, and lead them well. Though he had directed troops before, today would be the first time he was to lead so large a contingent, as well as the first time he would manage war exercises as a grown man.

His hands clenched and unclenched on the reins, a knot of excitement tight in his belly. Odin called a halt at the end of the line nearest to the civilian onlookers and Thor drew up alongside him, keeping his mount’s head high.

For a moment Odin looked as if he would reassure Thor, but he remained stubbornly tight lipped and gestured him on with only a nod of his head.

Every man must prove himself.

Bowing in the saddle, Thor kicked his horse into a walk and circled around the king, coming about to face the sea of soldiers and, more reassuringly, the nearby mounted figures of his officers who held among them his most trusted friends. They all bowed to him as he moved forward and then fell into step behind.

The soldiers would be tested on everything today. From marching commands to mock battle and, when the large scale drills were done, hand to hand combat. He would be expected to challenge any warrior expecting a promotion of rank to honourable combat, their success on the field affording them either the respect or derision of the people.

Imagining the fights increased the bubble of excitement in Thor and he set his teeth firm together so he would not grimace. It was going to be a long day.

He breathed deep, filling his lungs with air that tasted like mud and frost and fog and reminded himself that Loki was watching. With one hand letting go of the reins to touch the head of his hammer, he let himself smile.

“Officers, to your regiments.” His voice boomed like thunder over a quiet which had snuck onto the field. Electricity was coiled under his skin, in his joints, urging him to move, to run, to begin. “Prepare for combat and await my orders.”

An hour later it started to rain.

Mud geysered under his horse’s hooves as Thor galloped down the line, watching half of Sif’s soldiers wheel right and crash with the others. Rain soaked through the collar of his cloak and seeped beneath his armor as he rode with Fandral’s calvary. He couldn’t help laughing as Hogun’s archers lined up to fire on their targets as a downpour opened up so thick that Volstagg’s spearmen had to fight to keep their points aloft.

The soldiers liked to hear him laugh, grinning themselves as they let their arrows fly and not allowing the weather lessen their critical eye. Mist sprayed from the targets of canvas and straw as the arrows found their beds, the noise of their impact lost to the weather.

It was early afternoon by the time they’d drudged through the larger drills. The rain had been pouring steadily for five hours, and the situation had turned from uncomfortable to laughable. As the warriors seeking promotion began to come forward to fight, what was usually a tense formal affair became little more than a series of wrestling matches. Rain and mud made it almost impossible to keep a grip on one’s weapons or a foothold on the field, and proud men found themselves repeatedly on their backs.

Thor was delighted. It reminded him of his childhood and thunderstorms and everything he’d ever loved about fighting. He fought wildly, offered praise freely, and did not turn sour whenever a warrior managed to knock his feet out from under him.

His red cloak turned brown, mud filled every seam and crevice in his armor, and it would take some special care tonight if he ever wanted his leathers to fit properly again.

He laughed, a sound like thunder itself, shoving his hip into the gut of a prospective officer called Gisli and flipping him forward over his leg. The man landed on his back with a squelch and an oomph, winded and coughing on his own laughter.

The men roared with the rain.

Thor extended his hand, hauling the warrior to his feet and clapping him on the shoulder. “Excellent!” He shouted, Gisli, leaning close to hear. “Your promotion will serve the guard well.”

Gisli, a red-haired man of thirty thumped his fist over his heart and bowed shortly, raindrops and bits of muck scattering from his beard when his head came up again. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Thor beamed. First to Gisli, then to the men circled around, watching the matches. For a moment he remained tensed, ready for another opponent, but soon it grew apparent no more men would come forward. With a yell he yanked Mjolner from his belt and raised it over his head in triumph, exalted.

“Brothers!” The men roared. “Sisters!” The women gave their shout. “Warriors of Asgard! Proud members of the most honourable Capitol Guard!” For a long minute Thor could not speak for the volume of their cheers.

“This day you have proven yourselves well worthy of your ranks.” He continued at length, voice booming from his point atop a rise in the field. “It has been the most memorable review of recent years, and not solely thanks to this weather!” Laughter soaked the troops and Thor’s grin turned warm.

“It is an honour to command you, to lead you, to see you perform so admirably on this day of days. I thank you.” The rain hit loudly on shields and helmets and pauldrons in the quiet that descended at his words. He waited, let his spech sink in, meaning every syllable despite its simplicity. He did not stop smiling.

One of the mares behind him whinnied unhappily, and Thor silently agreed as the rain again increased. He shook his head like a dog, and his smile became knowing. “Now,” he cried, “we feast!”

The troops’ roar of approval shook the field, Thor’s and the other officers’ horses tossing their heads and snorting at the wave of sound, the thunderous vibrations of five thousand bodies shifting, ten thousand feet beginning the trek home. Sif pushed her way through a line of men, towing her’s and Thor’s mounts behind her. Seeing her smiling as well only fueled Thor’s further delight.

“It has been a momentous day!” His elation deafened. Sif shuttered her own pleasure and rolled her eyes.

“Get on your horse, Thor. It’s going to take an eternity to make you presentable.”

“I believe that is a normal state of affairs!” Fandral shouted, hauling his own sodden figure into the saddle, and running fingers through his hair thought it had long become a lost cause.

“We cannot all achieve such coifed perfection, friend.” Volstagg hollered from his stallion, and Hogun laughed as he adjusted his quiver on his back.

Thor put his foot in the stirrup and pushed himself up onto his steed, deep depressions left scraped in the mud when his feet left the ground.

“Friends!” He called, pulling the reins to turn his mount towards them. “The battles are over, do not squabble!”

“Here here.” Sif agreed. “To the stables we go, the mead-hall awaits.”

The five friends began to walk their horses against the general flow of traffic, heading to the royal stables as the lower guard made their way back to town and family and warmth. Many who passed close enough to be noticed raised their hand in hail to Thor, and to each man and woman he nodded in return, shaking hands with several who reached up for it. His hands were numb, but he could still feel the strength in their grips and it pleased him. There was an adulation in their gazes which fed Thor, a love which he thrived on.

‘This is what it means to be king.’ He thought, heart thrumming with pride. ‘To have their hearts, to hear their cheers and their laughter...’ He could not stop his smiling, did not know how his face glowed like the sun still hidden behind the clouds. In that moment he felt surely that nothing could lessen his delight in the day.

Soon enough the crowds of soldiers thinned and Thor and his friends picked up their pace. As they passed the castle steps Thor glanced up on impulse. Red eyes met his, gazing down from the top of the steps and flares of pleasure and concern rose up in quick succession. Gudrun was still in Loki’s arms; had she not become soaked through?

As if sensing Thor’s worry Loki rolled his eyes, an expression visible even at Thor’s distance and plucked at the cloak which covered both him and his child, drawing the prince’s eyes to the dryness of the green fabric.

Some spell then, Thor thought, pleased. Still, he hoped Loki had not remained standing the entire day. It had been a long training indeed.

He began to raise his hand in a wave, but a new sound rose up over the steady thrum of the rain and he turned his head to see his father riding swiftly towards his group. Thor’s tamped down his smile, his chest puffing out a little and his back going straighter.

“Ride on friends,” he commanded. “I will join you shortly.” The four nodded and continued easily on through the mud, untroubled. Thor drew his horse about and stilled, waiting for Odin’s approach.

“An excellent day, father!” He had to shout to be heard over the squelch and thud of horse hooves. For the first time Thor realized how muddy he must have become during the day and he wondered if the rain had done anything to clean him.

It wasn’t until Odin was nearly upon him that he caught the storm on Odin’s brow and the steel in his gaze.

Thor’s heart plummeted.

“Certainly.” Odin grunted, voice like acid. “If you call rolling around in the mud like a pig excellent, then yes, it was most excellent indeed.”

Thor contained a flinch. The warmth which had suffused him broke sharply. “Come now father,” He reasoned, hands tight around the reins. “None can control the weather, and the troops have done well despite unseasonably poor circumstances.”

Odin didn’t speak. Thor didn’t need him to. Disappointment was clear on his father’s features, deeper and more pointed than in his worst nightmares.

When finally Odin did speak it was in a voice so quiet that it rang like a shout in Thor’s ears. “You are not a boy Thor.” He growled. “I have time and again hoped that you would realize this, but at every opportunity you show me you possess only the head of a child.”

“Father-”

“Be silent. Do you think that this is a game? Do you think that this guard exists for your entertainment? A toy to play with? A decoration to Asgard’s streets, to the palace’s halls? Foolish boy. This is an army. They are the very heart of Asgard’s honour, her preparedness, her strength. Their pride is our pride, their victory is our victory. We do not play games with honour, Thor! We do not sully it with wrestling and jest and childishness.”

It was hard for Thor to swallow, to wet his tongue and speak.

“I sought only to make the day more bearable for them.”

“What is there to bear?” Odin laughed without humor. “One day of rain, of mud, of formality then they may return to their warm dry homes. Hardship indeed. We do not march on to war, we only drill in the damned training fields!”

“I did not mean to be soft, father.” Thor rasped, the air feeling even colder in his throat as he sucked in a breath, the rain thinning to a bare drizzle.

“Yes indeed.” Odin spat, looking old. Then he sighed. “Make yourself presentable, we will feast soon and your mother will not have you appear in the hall looking so like a beggar.”

“Yes sire.”

Then Odin was gone, trotting towards the stable boy waiting to take his mount. It was several minutes before Thor had gathered himself and made his own way towards the stables.

He would set his mind to the feast. He would let it roll off like rain.

He swallowed sharply and ignored the ache in his chest, the clammy feel to his skin, flush to his cheeks.

He did not feel Loki’s gaze following him long after he’d disappeared from sight.

It was Asgard’s first official celebration since midwinter. Outside the palace communal fires were set in every square, cloaked figures roasting meat on common spits and sharing misty-breathed laughter over flagons of ale and mead. As the sun had disappeared beneath the rim of the earth the clouds too had diminished, leaving slashes of stars visible in the sky. Fiddlers and pipers played, men and women sang, bards recited bawdy ballads and epic poetry to the applause and cheers of their audiences. Children dashed in packs of wild things down smokey streets and up muddy alleys, stealing beer and boar where they could before returning bright-eyed for a meal from mother.

Inside every house armor scrubbed and scoured lay spread in front of the hearth to dry, the animal smells of wet wool and leather drifting from every open door.

Thor’s own armor had been gathered by squires almost as soon as he had removed it, the boys keen on having it cleaned and drying as fast as possible. He did not begrudge them their excitement, indeed he blessed their haste with a wave of his hand which had them scampering from his chambers.

He chaffed a hand over his face, weary.

A bath waited for him in his wash room and he let himself smile as he walked towards it, though he did not have long to enjoy the luxury. Undressing quickly and letting his sodden tunic and trousers puddle on the floor, he stepped into the basin.

The heat felt good on his chilled and aching muscles. It encouraged the caked mud from his skin and hair until the water was brown and he was as clean as he needed to be. He rubbed oil into his hair, still coarse from the winter dry, and into his face and hands which were chapped from the day’s exertions. In half an hour he was dried and dressed in clothes suitable for a feast.

He chose garments more formal than he usually would have, fussing with the sleeves as he gauged his reflection in his mirror. Dropping his hands to his sides he put his shoulders back and tucked in his chin, furrowing his brow and making his face as severe as he could manage. Did he look like an Odinson?

Closing one eye and glaring through the other, he felt uneasy. Absorbed in his troubled thoughts he didn’t notice someone was outside his door until it opened to admit a damp-haired Sif. If she found his scrutiny of his reflection odd she didn’t show it. Walking more aggressively than a formal gown should have allowed, she seized Thor’s arm and began to haul him bodily from his rooms.

“People are hungry. Or did you forget that none could eat until you joined us in the dining hall?”

“Of course I had not forgotten.” Thor tugged his arm back and fiddled with his sleeves again.

Sif shrugged and took the lead. “Alright. Volstagg will soon become unmanageable if you do not hurry.”

“It is a feast in my honor is it not? I will move as fast as I deem necessary.”

“Of course, Princeling.”

Thor wrinkled his nose, letting Sif hustle him down the halls. “Do not call me that.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

Guards bowed from their hall sconces, formal armor bright with gilt, and Thor nodded as he passed each pair.

It only took a couple minutes to reach the mead hall and Thor wished it had been longer. He exhaled heavily as he drew to a halt outside the closed doors used by those who would sit at the high table. For a moment Sif looked as if she would breeze on through without pause, but then she hesitated, her hand resting on the carved cherry wood. Her brow was furrowed when she cast a glance over her shoulder.

“Are you quite alright?”

Thor rolled his shoulders until he felt a disc pop, then settled himself. “Yes.”

“Good.” That was that, and she pushed through the doors, holding them open for her prince. Her carriage was proud and Thor nodded his thanks as he entered the crowded hall.

Immediately he was assaulted by myriad sensations. The smell of cooked meat and mead, of bread and smoke and sweat and wet wool. The air felt heavy, damp, warm in a way which was pleasant after the day in the rain. Roaring fires and torches along the walls kept the room lit well enough, only the very tops of the rafters lost to shadow.

Space resonated with booming laughter and eager talk, near four hundred guests enjoying the All Father’s hospitality. When Thor walked in, all four hundred seemed to turn at once, raising their drinks in his direction and standing with a cheer.

Thor blamed his flush on the sudden warmth of the chamber and raised his hand in greeting. Volstagg hollered and banged his tankard on the table, earning him an eye roll from Hogun and Fandral both.

Sif smacked her prince’s shoulder companionably as she passed, giving him a small smile on her way to join their friends. For a moment Thor looked longingly at the familiar comfort of their table, then turned and walked to his seat on the dais, one empty space remaining to the right of his father.

When he was standing behind his chair, Odin raised his hand and all in the hall fell silent.

The speech was formal, and though Thor had not heard it before he’d long known the gist of it. He kept his head slightly bowed, angled towards his father, but his eyes sought another form. Loki sat two to the left of his mother, his creature eyes solemnly fixed on the All Father as he said his words.

“... that not only in times of tragedy, but in times of bounty Asgard needs a strong leader. A leader capable of holding council with our allies and our enemies alike, a leader who knows the honor of this land, and can wear it about himself like a cloak. A leader who brings all who see him to their knees, his glory evident. A king’s honor is Asgard’s honor, his glories are her glories, and his failures are her failures.”

Loki’s brow furrowed and Thor dropped his gaze to stare pointedly at his goblet.

“Let Asgard’s king never fail her. Let her honor never be tainted, let her glory never be doubted. Let her leader’s lead her forever to victory.

“To the Odinson!”

“To Thor!” The hall cried, drinks thrust to the air.

“To Asgard!”

“To Asgard!” Even Frigga held her goblet before her, proud. Thor took up his own with slower fingers.

“To the glory and honour of this land.”

“Glory and honour!” and all drank.

Thor drank deepest of all and when he sat he did so heavily, his posture poor.

He did not speak through the meal, though Balder to his left attempted to engage him in conversation several times. Though much food passed his lips he could not say he tasted any of it. He ate mechanically, waiting for the tight ache and nervous tension in his chest to fade.

It didn’t.

About half way through the evening he realized that for perhaps the first time in his life he couldn’t wait for a feast to end, and the revelation startled him, sent his gaze to his left and he stared at his father.

His frown was carved deep over his face and Odin did not ignore it, setting his tankard down after a long draught and meeting Thor’s gaze steadily.

“Have you something to say?”

Thor did, but the words were difficult. He continued to stare a long minute as he struggled to pull them together. “Are you...” He hesitated, then started again. “Did you mean what you said?”

The one eye Odin had left was unforgiving. “I never speak without thinking Thor, another skill you should work on.”

For a moment Thor’s skin felt cold. Then ire boiled in his blood and his fingers tightened on his drink, knuckles white and surely the metal would warp. He turned his gaze from his father and stared at his hand, trembling in its fury.

He had not had much to drink. He did not have the liquid courage to continue this conversation in a place so public. To fight with any other man, particularly on this day of all days, would have given him pleasure.

But this was his father.

He was steady, if stiff, when he shoved back from the table and bowed shortly to the king. The unhappy eyes of his mother peered over the bulk of her husband’s shoulder and he bowed to her too.

“Forgive me.” He managed to bite out. “I find the day has not treated me well. I think it best that I remove myself from your gaiety so as not to spoil the occasion.”

The words were good, but they didn’t sound like him, sending a hint of alarm into Balder’s voice as he called out to his retreating back. Father remained obviously silent and his mother too kept her words to herself.

Thor nodded to Loki as he passed, hoping his friend would not follow him. He did not see the way Loki turned the burn of his eyes on the All Father. He did not look back once, especially not as the hall grew subdued and the laughter began to fade.

It was all silence when he reached the corridor and the doors swung shut in his wake. Though the quiet was usually not his ally, it was a blessed thing now and he shook his head to rid himself of the red in his sight before he stomped down the hall to his rooms.

The bath had been cleared, the mess he’d made in readying himself tidied. In the grate a fire was roaring and his eyes fell upon it with gratitude. He let his feet carry himself to one of the two couches that lay in the circle of the fire’s warmth and sank carefully onto the wine coloured upholstery. Thoughts battered around his skull, and he felt tired. Not in the pleasant way he often felt after a battle or a long hunt, but tired like his body was seeking escape. It unnerved him to feel as such, and he smoothed his palms over the knees of his trousers.

He felt incredibly unlike himself.

Time passed without reckoning and Thor was further disturbed to realize he was brooding, sulking even, and perhaps he’d had more drink than he’d thought because he wanted for a moment to spring up and return to the mead hall, to call his father out, to try and defend himself.

Until Odin spoke he had felt so confident about a good job done, about the service his soldiers had given him.

He folded his hands and watched the tongues of fire twist and spark, wondering how he could have been so wrong.

Eventually the door opened without anyone’s knocking.

Although Thor wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to Loki, he did not turn to tell him off. His friend probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. There was a confidence in his tread as he walked to the corner of the room where Thor kept a bassinet and settled a sleeping Gudrun there before moving to the couch across from Thor. All long lines and grace he settled himself in a casual sprawl.

He was quiet a long time before beginning.

“You did well Thor.”

The fire spit at them from the grate. Thor did not look away from the flames.

“You know I am not one for flattery.” Loki added after a minute’s silence. He was lounging sideways on Thor’s couch, idly fingering a flaw in the upholstery as he spoke. “And it physically pains me to offer you praise, so you can know I am sincere.”

At that Thor couldn’t help a small laugh, shutting his eyes and putting his head in his hands. “Thank you.” He muttered, voice muffled by his palms.

The hour had moved beyond late into early, only the lingering dark of spring keeping the sun well shuttered beneath the horizon.

“Your father vexes me.”

Thor’s head snapped up, startled. "Loki-” He choked out, but his friend waved away his interruption.

“After the accomplishments you have logged today all he can spare you is a frown and a critique of your character? How sweet. Your mother at least would have shaken your hand.”

“You judge him too severely. Your father-”

“We are not discussing my father.” Loki said cooly. “Do not change the subject.”

“I do not wish to have this conversation!” There was a wildness in Thor’s eyes that, for a moment, gave Loki pause.

“Does it offend you that Odin criticized me for childishness?” Thor trundled on. “Well, I am not angry with him for that. He is right, I am a man now and yet I treated today’s training like a boy’s game. How can I be expected to keep the respect of my warriors if I act like a fool?”

“Believe me” Loki leaned forward with a hiss. “When I say you will have a far more difficult time keeping their love if you make them bear physical hardship and a cruel demeanor together.

“They love you for your sunlight, Thor, and that is not a foolish thing. If you did not smile at them, I imagine they would go quite mad from the loss.”

With a huff Loki crossed his ankles and slumped back against the couch, arms folded over his chest. The glare he fixed Thor with was merciless.

Thor didn’t know what to say. Unable to hold Loki’s eyes he let his gaze fall to his hands, fingers curling and uncurling slowly.

He wanted to believe Loki. It was what he believed himself, but his father was so sure in his failings...

And Thor had failings, of that he had no misconceptions, but he had not thought that this was one of them.

“You are lucky indeed that you did not inherit your father’s personality.” Loki muttered after a time, breaking the silence.

"It's just that I had not-" Thor swallowed before continuing. "I had not thought us so different."

"Be glad of those differences. It is those differences which will make you stronger than him! It is those differences which make you the greatest king Asgard has ever known. They will make you a better ruler, a better man, a better father than Odin could ever be."

Thor’s spiral of self-doubt slowed, his brow furrowing as he processed Loki’s words. His head came up from staring at the rug. Loki had turned his own gaze to the fire.

For some reason the prince’s mouth was dry. He swallowed noisily before he attempted to speak. “Are you saying you think I’d make a good father?”

Loki didn’t move. “I let you near my daughter, don’t I?”

Thor‘s hands stilled, folded tightly against each other as he studied Loki’s profile, loosing himself for a moment in terrifying hope. “Loki...” He started at length, trailing off before daring to proceed. “Was that an answer my advances?”

There had been a tension along Loki’s shoulders and it broke at Thor’s words. He snorted a disbelieving laugh and put his head in his hand. “You are graceless.”

A log popped in the hearth.

Was he wrong? Thor’s heart was pounding too loud and almost painful in his chest. He bit his tongue and tried to calm himself.

“Answer me, I beg of you.”

He was uncomfortable to hear something nearly vulnerable in his tone, but it turned Loki’s face to him, a softness the prince was not accustomed to seeing dabbed over his appraising features.

“I have heard that it is an Asgardian custom, Thor,” the mercreature murmured. “To reward acts of valor on the battlefield.” He still said Thor’s name like the very word struck him as ridiculous, but he appeared warm and Thor couldn’t breathe.

For a moment, wide eyed and disbelieving, he looked like he would seek more clarification. Loki did not let him. He stood and crossed to Thor’s couch, sinking down to sit on his right, seizing his face between his hands and pressing their foreheads together. His eyes fell closed.

“If what you want tonight is an answer, then I say yes, you idiot.”

Thor didn’t move. All the food he had not tasted at dinner threatened to reintroduce itself. He felt as if he were nine years old again and drowning. It was ridiculous, he had led an army today, no matter how poorly, and a few sentences from his friend paralyzed him. He tried to make his tongue move, tried to pick up his hands and put them on Loki, but there were too many options, to many places to touch, to many words to say and he stared at Loki’s closed eyes until they drifted open, amused.

“Gudrun will probably wake in a couple hours so if you mean to take advantage of your reward-”

Thor did not hesitate any longer. Fire in his blood he wrapped a hand around the back of Loki’s skull and took his mouth in a kiss full of fury and the accumulated want of many months, remembering the kiss of two weeks past, of a month past, of the first kiss which had triggered this chain of events and he bore Loki down against the arm of the couch, keeping his weight heavy and restraining upon him.

He had Loki here. He had him, finally. He pushed his hips forward into Loki, his arousal flaring so fast it near scalded him. It was ecstasy to prove to himself the pleasure in the slimness of Loki’s hips, the way the mercreature fit against him, under him. He tried to lick deeper into Loki’s mouth, wanting to taste more of him, groaning and trying to encourage Loki’s tongue into action. He tried to get Loki to kiss back.

His hips stilled, and his kiss gentled. After a moment he drew his upper body away completely, looking down on Loki with a frown.

“Loki?”

Silence.

Thor’s arousal dimmed as he took note of the mercreature’s tightly shut eyes, chest barely moving as he breathed shallowly, carefully, fingers like claws digging against the cushions.

“Loki?” He asked softer and his arousal died completely because suddenly he got it. It dropped the bottom out of his stomach and he flushed with embarrassment, cursing himself.

“Loki, we do not have to...” He began, stammering, still trying to catch his breath. “Forgive me, I am sorry, I have been completely blind. I should not have... I did not even think... I’m so sorry, I did not mean to frighten you-”

“Shut up Thor.” Loki kept his eyes closed. His voice was tiny and furious. “You could not frighten me if you tried.”

When Thor made a noise as if he would comfort Loki, the mercreature snapped his eyes open and slapped a hand over the prince’s mouth. His fingers were shaking

“Shut. Up.” He hissed, concentrating on breathing. “Just...” He trailed off. The look on Thor’s face...

Loki shuddered.

He let up on the force he’d pressed to Thor’s mouth, let his hand relax and slip until just his finger tips touched Thor’s lips and he stared at the point where the pale of his fingers met chapped pink.

It felt like a long time before he spoke again. “Take me to your bed, Thor.”

He felt Thor’s lips twitch like he would speak so he pressed against them again. “And do not ask me if I am certain.” He rasped. “I am certain, or else I would not be here.”

So Thor stayed quiet as he pulled away and stepped off the couch. He didn’t speak as he helped Loki up, but he could not stay so silent when it tore at him to know that Loki was not as healed as he pretended to be. He could not help himself when before they turned to head towards his bedchamber he seized Loki about the shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.

His arms were big enough to fold around his friend’s thin shoulders and he was strong enough to hold him there, even as Loki tensed and put his hands on Thor’s front like he meant to push him away.

Thor had to speak. He had to, because no matter Loki’s decision, no matter if this happened tonight or five years in the future or never, Thor knew he would not be able to live with himself if he did not say it one more time, did not give Loki an honest moment to say whatever he would without judgement or disappointment.

He whispered “We really do not have to, you know.” Against the fine black of Loki’s hair and expected the nails that dug into his skin in retaliation.

“Thor-” the mercreature hissed but Thor pressed a kiss to his hairline even as he loosened his hold on the other man’s shoulders, silencing him.

“I am not asking,” He reassured. “I am telling. You do not have to say anything in reply, it is your choice when to speak.”

When Loki’s face turned up it was angry, pale skin orange and purple in firelight and shadow. Then it gentled, all except the eyes.

“Take me to bed, Thor.” Loki said again, this time murmuring, eyes partially hooded and Thor sighed, taking Loki’s fingers in his hands and bringing them to his lips so he could kiss them.

He felt uncomfortable, but his love for Loki was strong, his desire for him still simmering at the base of his spine in a way that never really vanished, and he hoped that this would be what Loki needed. He tried on a smile and found it was not so hard a face to make. He leaned in to kiss Loki once on the lips, almost chaste before drawing back and beginning to move towards his chamber. He did not let go of Loki’s hands.

Loki was alright with that, glad to follow, wishing Thor could understand that his inconvenient discomfort did not mean he did not want this.

If anything it made him want it more.

Thor had filled up spaces in Loki’s life that he had never expected to be full again. The mercreature didn’t trust, learned that it was dangerous to do so in his years in his father’s court, but he wanted to trust Thor.

He wasn’t certain he knew how to properly feel love, having only just relearned it’s burn in the weight of Gudrun in his arms, but he had felt the warmth of Thor’s gaze and now he wanted it like he wanted water.

“Touch me.” He ordered when they were in Thor’s room, on Thor’s bed, because Thor held himself still over Loki, just looking, and Loki wanted him to get on with it. He wanted to want this the same way Thor did.

Still Thor hesitated and Loki made a face, knocking his hands away and pulling up the hem of his own tunic, wriggling out of it and tossing it aside. He lay back down on the dark furs of the prince’s bed with a gust of a sigh and spread his arms out at his sides, daring Thor to touch.

Thor’s eyes affixed to the transient swell of Loki’s fading breasts and the mercreature’s eyes were fond even as he raised a mocking brow, his heart calming. It was predictable.

“They will not last much longer.” He goaded. “Even now Gudrun is ready to be weened.”

A pained noise escaped Thor’s throat and he shifted his weight to one arm so he could reach up with a warm, battle-rough hand and gently palm Loki’s chest. The mercreature held his breath.

Under Thor’s hand it felt not so very different from a man’s chest, nothing like the soft fullness of a woman’s and Thor groaned, thinking of the past weeks and the opportunity missed.

Loki laughed.

A flush on his cheeks Thor rubbed the nipple under his palm while leaning forward to kiss the other, his tongue coming out to swipe at it, his lips latching over it and sucking once but not too hard, not wanting to take from Gudrun. Clean skin, salt, and sour milk.

Loki exhaled shakily and threaded his hands in Thor’s hair. His fingers scratched patterns into Thor’s scalp as the prince swapped his mouth and his hand, bringing both nipples to attention, glistening with saliva, pink and swollen. With a shudder Thor drew himself back and moved up to put his nose to Loki’s collar bone and kiss the thin skin there.

Loki shivered, wanting Thor’s lips back.

“I am not a woman.” He said aloud, eyes slightly dazed.

Thor stiffened. “I know this.” He rasped, pushing himself up so he could look Loki in the eye. His cheeks were flushed. “I could not help myself, they are-”

With a huff Loki put a finger to Thor’s lips and silenced him. “Just a reminder, princeling.”

Thor looked embarrassed, but he hid it with another kiss, lips pressing soft against Loki’s, then firmer when the mercreature pressed back, let his mouth open enough for Thor’s tongue to lick inside. One of Thor’s hands drifted back up to Loki’s breast and Loki didn’t knock it away, instead he pressed up against the warm pleasure of it

It was a push and pull, one moving too fast then the other too slow, unable to find a steady progress. They undressed too slowly for Loki’s tastes, but when they were pressed skin to skin he squeezed Thor’s wrists to make him stop for a moment, cheeks burning red with shame.

“Don’t say a word.” He warned as he forced himself to relax under Thor’s weight. To his credit the prince said nothing, nosing encouragingly at Loki’s throat until the smaller man tilted his chin back and let Thor pull up a bruise on the pale expanse.

He parted his legs for Thor, let the prince shift between them, let him arrange his thighs so his hips were cradled in Thor’s lap, their cocks rubbing together when they rocked against each other. There was pleasure in it, and Loki shivered, letting loose a shaky breath.

Then when he was ready to go further Thor continued to tread softly, a growl rising in Loki’s throat as he thrust up harder, attempting to goad his partner on.

Thor laughed warmly, then cut himself off, worried that Loki would take offense. One look in his friend’s eyes reassured him and he smiled, drawing away from the love mark he’d left on Loki’s throat to kiss his lips.

“Touch me.” Loki ordered when the kiss broke, the sharp cant of his hips indicating where he wanted it and Thor obliged, albeit slowly.

Slipping his hand down between Loki’s legs he cupped his balls and squeezed once before moving back to pet over the man’s entrance, tracing his finger around the hole once before drawing away and turning towards the carved bedside table to take up the vial of oil he had sitting there.

“Confident, were you?” Loki teased, eyes fixed to the vial. Thor grinned, sheepish.

“Only well prepared.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed unintentionally as Thor pulled out the stopper. “How rare.”

The prince upended most of the bottle in his palm and on loki’s thighs, massaging the slick over the skin around his lover’s entrance, moving slowly back. By the time he was circling Loki’s hole and cautiously moving the tip of one finger in and out Loki had gathered his courage and rolled his eyes.

“Enough Thor. Do this properly. I am not fragile.”

Thor looked up from where he’d been staring intently at the space between Loki’s legs and frowned. “Not fragile, but definitely precious. There’s not need to rush.”

“If you ever call me precious again I will turn your tongue into a fish.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course.” Loki lied, pleased when Thor looked impressed. “Now get on with it.” He grumbled, attempting to spread his legs wider, groaning when Thor took a firmer hold of his hip with one hand, and with the other pressed his middle finger into Loki steadily until he was up to the knuckle.

After stroking him with the one finger, dragging it steadily in and out of the loosening passage, Thor was quick to move on to two then three, each new introduction earning a tight hiss from Loki and an insistence that he was fine. It took some time but soon even having three fingers scissoring inside and stretching him, did not pain Loki.

He rolled his hips with a thrust, and moaned sharply when Thor crooked his fingers and found the right angle to press against Loki’s prostate.

“Is it good?” Thor rasped, voice gone rough with want. “Tell me its good.”

“Aye Thor.” Loki grunted. “Don’t stop.”

The room was dark save for the fire light which still came in through the open door, Thor having refrained from lighting any of his lamps. He regretted it now, looking down on the shadows falling thick over Loki’s body. Drawing his fingers out on one last stretching pull, he covered his cock with the remaining oil and preparing to enter him fully. Even in the dark Loki’s eyes glittered with a war red sheen and Thor held his gaze.

“If it hurts, please tell me.”

Loki’s head shook once in exasperation. “Just move, Thor.”

The warmth at the head of Thor’s cock was too promising to ignore, so he resolved to move slow as he began to press himself forward into Loki’s body.

Though Thor had spent his time preparing Loki, the slide was still slow, the clench tight. The legs Loki had hooked around his waist were tense, near vibrating from the stress of balancing between wanting more and pushing away. Still Loki kept his lips closed tight around any sound, eyes thin slit and glittering.

“Loki-” Thor hissed, the pleasure of filling his friend near overwhelming him. The sound of his name broke something in Loki and he shuddered fiercely, his body relaxing like it was shocked and letting Thor drive the last inch home.

Still Loki remained silent, and now with Thor all the way inside he he did not move, barely even twitched except to breathe. Thor could swear his love was hurting and he couldn’t stand it, the silence deafening him over the steady thrum of his own pleasure. So he leaned down and pried open Loki’s mouth with his own, whispering ‘speak’ into the depths until Loki choked on a howl.

“Move.” the mercreature growled and Thor was only human, could only comply as he set a swiftly building pace, thrusting deep and sure before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting more shallowly, knowing from idle talk where to strike a man’s pleasure point.

Loki’s breath hitched on those strokes, turning into breathy whines, his cock which had waned some on entry filling again and brushing against Thor’s stomach every few thrusts.

He cried out on a particularly strong thrust and began to ride with Thor’s motions, rolling his hips in time, seeking greater pleasure in tandem movement. He arched his neck and touched his open mouth to Thor’s but couldn’t even manage to kiss him as he gasped for breath, tight with want and shaking.

“Thor!” His thighs tightened around Thor’s waist and the prince groaned low in his throat, hips working faster, arms around Loki and squeezing them close enough that Loki’s cock pushed firm against his stomach and Loki bucked into the contact, panting and whining against Thor’s cheek.

“More, ah, ah, more-” And all Thor could do was oblige, a sound like a yell building at the back of his throat as climax came on all too quickly.

Loki’s eyes snapped open. Those eyes looked like they were bleeding, like they were on fire, and they were so strange and so unbearably beautiful Thor had to close his own and grit his teeth like it hurt, so close and wanting to take Loki over with him.

He thrust deep into the clench of Loki’s body, his passage tightening and releasing around Thor in a hot grip, so smooth a slide.

“Loki.” He hissed, out of breath, shaking from his core, a tingling at his spine and he fought to stave it off, waiting, pushing, reading the clench of Loki’s hands on his shoulders, the squeeze of his thighs, the throaty rasp of his breath. “Be close, come on Loki.”

A whine escaped Loki’s throat and Thor opened his eyes again because he wanted to watch him break open, wanted to see what he looked like, could barely believe how lucky he was to be able to see this.

Their rhythm jerked then faltered, Loki tensing, arching like the drawn string of a bow, hitching breath, hips stuttering, come splattering in the the sweat damp space between Thor’s chest and his. A throaty whine broke from his throat, his fingers digging into Thor’s arms like he meant to claw the flesh right from his bones.

Thor roared, held Loki tighter, rutted harder, as deep as he could, burying himself in Loki as the burn of pleasure shook up his spine, spiraling out into his limbs. It left him frozen, muscles trembling, spilling inside of a Loki who continued to ride him with little abortive rolls of his hips, moving with Thor through the aftershocks.

He sighed when Thor exhaled and lowered himself, trembling, to lay atop him, forearms only taking enough weight off Loki so as to not make it difficult for him to breathe. Thor himself remained silent, still trying to keep his world from shaking apart.

Silence was heavy but not uncomfortable as it settled over them. For many minutes the only sounds were those of their breathing, of the little hiss Loki gave as Thor withdrew from him and settled again, of the snap of Loki’s fingers as he banished the mess still on his stomach but not that which cooled between his thighs.

Birds began to sing of near dawn before Loki turned to Thor, the prince near sleep but still staring up at Loki with so much feeling it made a part of the mercreature want to run. He didn’t let it show on his own face though, keeping calm as he settled in against the pillows and reached out to push a strand of Thor’s hair behind his ear.

“Did you enjoy your reward?” He asked finally, voice a bit scratchy and it took Thor a few minutes to gather his wits together enough to smile.

“Oh yes.”

“You deserved it.” Thor’s arm had long hung heavy over his waist but at that it tightened. “Believe me, Thor. Believe me before any others. Hear my voice.”

Thor looked reluctant to talk about these things but he blundered on anyway, leaning forward to touch his forehead to Loki’s as he spoke. “How could I have been so wrong?”

“You were not wrong.” Loki hissed, flattening the hand he had on Thor’s head against his skull so he held him in place against the pillow. “It is love which will earn you glory, golden prince. Where your father has ruled them with their fear, you will rule them with their love.”

“My father is no fool.”

“And neither are you, my friend, though you are capable of quite an accurate impression of one.”

Thor laughed and Loki smiled with his lips.

“If he has so shaken your confidence, take some of mine.” The mercreature whispered after a moment, petting Thor with a faint glow to his hand, watching the prince fall into slumber even as he could hear Gudrun begin to stir for a feeding. “I have faith in your destiny.”

“Loki-”

“Hush.” He whispered “Sleep will do you well.”

When Thor breathing had evened to the deep slow pulls of recline Loki slid out from his clinging, gathering up his cloak and casting it about him as he walked out to take up Gudrun for her feed.

Even after she had finished and fallen asleep in his arms, he remained sitting on the couch before the grate, staring at the embers of the fire. He had much on his mind.