I'm cleverer than I seem

Raven smiled wryly. Alright, this healer wasn’t too bad. Not stuffy, like some could be, and not unnecessarily inquisitive. Not someone he was too anxious to have around the headquarters for a nest of intelligence operatives. 

Besides, if he’d been sent by the Allfather, he ought to be trustworthy enough. 

Not that he’d be spilling all their secrets to him, anyway.

“Asmund, huh? Shame we had to meet under such complicated circumstances. It wasn’t any trouble to fetch you, though. Fo- Fandral- thought you might appreciate a guide.” He was used to calling Fandral by his code name- that was just what you did in the circles they ran in. He wasn’t entirely sure most of his companions knew his actual name. In fact, he didn’t know all of theirs. He just knew he was supposed to use Fandral’s real name in situations like this, not his code name.

“But you were going in the right direction anyway. If you’d just kept going you would have bumped right into us.” He flashed a quick grin before sobering. “What you’ve been told is about all we know, really. Fandral said he found Loki on the grounds. Don’t know how he got there or why he wound up here of all places. We’re not exactly widely known.” He shrugged a little as they made their way back to the manor. “Who knows. He and Fandral were close back in the day, so I hear. Maybe he did some weird magic and locked onto someone he thought might be able to help.” Fandral had an absolutely uncanny ability to find the people he was looking for. It didn’t strike him as too out of the question that Loki might be able to do the same. Made more sense than whatever it was Fandral did, even.

“What I do know is that Loki had a pretty big hole through him when Fandral found him. He and Osprey gave him some basic patching up, but he’s in pretty crappy shape. We have some healing stones here- I’m pretty sure they used one on him, he was that bad off.”

Fortunately, they didn’t employ quite the staff here that they had back in the day. There was a dedicated cleaning staff, and a few who helped manage the kitchen and other daily tasks, but other than that there were not many mortals currently in the manor to trip over. Raven deftly led Asmund through the manor on a route that would avoid as many of those mortals as possible, heading upstairs to the wing where the wounded prince was being kept. 

Fandral looked up as they entered, peering closely at Asmund. Recognition came into his eyes, and he nodded. “It’s- Asmund, right? I’m glad they sent you.” He waved the healer over to the prince’s bedside, quickly getting out from between him and his patient.

♔—- “Fandral was right, I definitely appreciate the guide,” Asmund murmured and made quite-yet-polite work of finishing off the apple. A bit of magic dealt with the core, so he didn’t leave any mess behind on the ground or had to carry around a piece of rotting fruit. While Asmund didn’t use magic for everyday things nearly as often as some other magic users he could mention, he couldn’t deny that it came in handy, and he often used it passively without thinking because it came so naturally to him.

Sometimes it made his company anxious or uncomfortable but in truth? He’d learned long ago not to pay much mind to what others thought of him or the gifts he possessed. He could spend a lot of time hating himself for the things that made him different, but why bother with that when he could make such a huge difference in people’s lives?

If someone had a problem with his magic, it was their problem, not his, and when they were injured and in need of a healer, he would still be there to care for them despite their personal wariness of his abilities. 

“It’s possible that Prince Loki happened upon this place by accident. He’s been known to open small fissures in space to slip through. If his condition is as bad as you say, he may have simply been aiming for Midgard. He has some mortal friends he may have wished to turn to for help, people who could look after him and protect him without drawing attention to him while in such a vulnerable place. I suspect that finding Fandral was nothing more than a coincidence, though… I do suppose it’s not beyond belief that he might have been able to track Fandral here. They were close some years ago, perhaps Prince Loki still trusts him enough to turn to him for help… Given his poor condition, I doubt he had the energy for such a tracking spell, but you’re right. Who knows?

“Hopefully we’ll be able to stabilize him and get him coherent enough to fill in the gaps soon enough. It was wise of you to apply a healing stone. That very well may have given him enough time to survive until he could get more extensive care.”

As they moved from the grounds to the manor, Asmund fell silent, taking the hint that Raven didn’t wish to alert too many people to their presence. He wondered if it was just curtesy to keep them from disturbing people too late at night or if he was purposefully being kept secret, but that was something to file away for later. 

Once inside the room they were keeping Loki’s clone in, he nodded to Raven. “Thank you for your aid. It was lovely to meet you. I hope we’ll get a chance to chat some more on a lighter note,” he said before giving his attention to Fandral. He was almost surprised that the swordsman actually remembered him, but Loki always said Fandral was smarter and more observant than he let on. Perhaps he did pay attention to Loki’s friends and companions even if they didn’t directly concern him.

And Asmund had been there the day Fandral was rushed back to Gladsheim after nearly losing his life on Jotunheim. He’d been one of the healers to look after the swordsman, so it was nice to see he still recognized him. 

“Fandral,” he said, nodding his head. “I’m glad they sent me too. I was… overjoyed at the news that Loki was still alive. I just hope we’re not too late. Thank you for sending word as diligently as you did.” 

Fandral waved him over and he took no time to find his way to Loki’s bedside. Despite knowing that what he was looking at was a clone, it was still a difficult sight to take in. Loki’s clones were near-perfect replicas of the real thing and seeing Loki in such a state… He could feel his heart rate picking up and his tongue ran dry. Had Loki truly been this bad when Thor left him? Could Thor have done more to try and aid him before running off after Malekith? And how…

Gods, how had the prince survived such a thing?

“The patchwork and healing stone Raven told me about probably saved his life. You ought to know that,” Asmund murmured, more to play the part than anything. He knew that Fandral was in on all of this. Anything he said was more for the benefit of those who may overhear them, to sell a solid story and illusion. “You and your friends have done well. With some time, I think we’ll be able to get our prince home.”

He set his bag down beside the bed and placed one hand on the clone’s forehead, while the other hand carefully hovered over the gaping wound. Bandages undid themselves, revealing the extensive damage. Asmund’s complexion paled a bit. While he’d seen horrors in his time as a healer, it was always different when applied to a loved one, and this, despite not being real, was eerie and unsettling. 

If things really were as they seemed- if the real Odin still sat on the throne and the real Loki had dragged his half-dead carcass here to Locksley Manor- then Fandral would have been obliged to mount a watch over Loki anyway. It would have reflected poorly on him and his agents if they’d left him unguarded. Since they were running a trick, Fandral didn’t want the other agents too close to the clone. Which meant it was left to Fandral himself to keep guard.

“I am glad to hear that in your professional opinion, we were helpful.” He gave Asmund a wry little smile. “It would have been rather embarrassing to have Loki limp his way here only for us to let him bleed out before we could get him a healer.”

Fandral didn’t often get a chance to watch healers actively at work. He didn’t wind up in the Hall of Healing all that often, and those times when one of his friends had been badly injured enough to need a healer immediately, he’d been shooed out of the way so they could do their jobs. Seeing Asmund blanch at the sight of ‘Loki’s’s wound just underscored how bad the ‘injury’ had to be. How had Loki survived its counterpart? This looked worse than what Fandral had gotten on Jotunheim, and that had nearly killed him.

The feel of the Bifrost locking onto a spot just outside the estate while Fandral was linked into the detection spells was like grabbing a wire full of current. It buzzed right through him, making his hair stand on end. Hastily, he disentangled himself from the spells and called for Raven, raking his fingers through his hair to get it back in some kind of order.

“Bifrost,” he said, still a little breathless from the brief contact with the powerful energies of the Rainbow Bridge. “Asgard’s sent someone- it’s probably a healer for Loki. Can you go meet them?”

Raven nodded briskly and eyed him. “You might want a comb before anyone official shows up here.”

Fandral just sighed. “Go get our new guest,” he told him. “The Bifrost touched down just outside the apple orchard.”

Raven smirked, leaving without another word as Fandral went to ensure everything was ready. 

The dark-haired agent paused only long enough to let the others know that Asgard had sent someone before he made his way out through the grounds. The orchard was an old one- it had been established shortly after Fandral, in his guise as Robin of Locksley, had gained formal ownership of the property. The individual trees weren’t that old, of course, but they’d been consistently renewed over the years, occasionally supplemented with grafts from Aesir apple trees, just to bring in some familiarity for the agents established there. Not golden apples. Those who tended the enchanted golden apples would never allow a graft to be taken from one of their trees. Just ordinary Asgardian apples.

The fruit of one of those grafted trees was just ripening, and Raven snagged a couple from the branch as he passed by. It never hurt to bring a bit of sweet along when meeting someone new. 

He spotted the figure dressed in semiformal Aesir style wandering towards the manor house, and hurried over. The newcomer was also dark-haired, and had the look of a healer about him. Good. Loki definitely needed a healer’s attention- and the sooner he got that attention and got shipped back to Asgard, the happier Raven would be. The recent stories of Loki were too erratic and alarming to make Raven comfortable with having him here. 

“Hello,” he said, once he’d gotten close enough to the healer for easy conversation. He gently tossed one of the apples at the newcomer. “I’m called Raven. You the healer, then?”

♔—- Asmund wasn’t horribly surprised to see someone he didn’t recognize come to greet him, though he did wonder just how many people were here with Fandral… and why. Loki hadn’t gone into details about Fandral’s banishment, why he’d chosen Midgard, or why Fandral seemed to have other companions on Midgard that were not actually banished, but in truth, none of that really mattered. While the healer was often curious and sometimes stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, he rarely lost focus of his more important tasks. Right now, that task was getting to Loki’s clone and caring for it as diligently as possible so it could be returned to Asgard and him along with it.

Due to the many years of medical training and the careful hands he needed to possess, Asmund’s reflexes were very well sharp despite never using them for things like battle. When the apple came towards him, he had little difficulty shifting his bag to one shoulder and catching it with a hand that had previously been gripping the bag’s strap. Thankfully, the trip through the Bifrost hadn’t disoriented him too badly. 

“Hello Raven,” Asmund greeted, offering a soft smile. The name was… odd, though. Definitely not a traditional Aesir name. It almost sounded made up, but why would he use a false name? What exactly were Fandral and his people up to down here? “Thank you for the snack. I could use one after the journey.” He’d never understand how so many people were so comfortable going through the Bifrost unscathed, truthfully. Portal hopping seemed much easier… “My name is Asmund. The All-father sent me to assess and care for his son until he’s well enough to be transferred to Asgard. He’s told me the prince is in rather poor condition. I should see him as quickly as possible.”

He did actually take a modest few bites of the apple after gently shining it on his tunic. Sweet and juicy, he had to admit, the only apple he’d ever eaten that tasted more divine was the Golden Apple itself and that was a rare occurrence that wasn’t necessary more than once every few centuries at most.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked. “To the prince, I mean? I was rushed to the Bifrost so quickly, I didn’t get many more details than that he’d been found by an off-realm Aesir who reported him being in immediate need of a proper healer.”

Fortunately, despite rarely leaving Asgard, Asmund never really grew nervous while traveling or meeting new people. He felt rather comfortable in settling himself down beside a complete stranger and perhaps he was a bit too trusting to eat something said stranger had given him without a second thought, but most seemed to be in agreement… Healers were a special breed and often left untouched, even during times of bloody war. What did he have to fear from Aesir who were expecting him.

Besides, if he’d been sent by the Allfather, he ought to be trustworthy enough. 

Not that he’d be spilling all their secrets to him, anyway.

“Asmund, huh? Shame we had to meet under such complicated circumstances. It wasn’t any trouble to fetch you, though. Fo- Fandral- thought you might appreciate a guide.” He was used to calling Fandral by his code name- that was just what you did in the circles they ran in. He wasn’t entirely sure most of his companions knew his actual name. In fact, he didn’t know all of theirs. He just knew he was supposed to use Fandral’s real name in situations like this, not his code name.

“But you were going in the right direction anyway. If you’d just kept going you would have bumped right into us.” He flashed a quick grin before sobering. “What you’ve been told is about all we know, really. Fandral said he found Loki on the grounds. Don’t know how he got there or why he wound up here of all places. We’re not exactly widely known.” He shrugged a little as they made their way back to the manor. “Who knows. He and Fandral were close back in the day, so I hear. Maybe he did some weird magic and locked onto someone he thought might be able to help.” Fandral had an absolutely uncanny ability to find the people he was looking for. It didn’t strike him as too out of the question that Loki might be able to do the same. Made more sense than whatever it was Fandral did, even.

“What I do know is that Loki had a pretty big hole through him when Fandral found him. He and Osprey gave him some basic patching up, but he’s in pretty crappy shape. We have some healing stones here- I’m pretty sure they used one on him, he was that bad off.”

Fortunately, they didn’t employ quite the staff here that they had back in the day. There was a dedicated cleaning staff, and a few who helped manage the kitchen and other daily tasks, but other than that there were not many mortals currently in the manor to trip over. Raven deftly led Asmund through the manor on a route that would avoid as many of those mortals as possible, heading upstairs to the wing where the wounded prince was being kept. 

Message sent, Fandral returned to check on the clone. He and Osprey had gotten it cleaned up and stabilized, but looking at it still set the hairs on the back of his neck to prickling. It made him uneasy, seeing something that had had some degree of intelligence and independent thought that had been, quite literally, made to be in such pain. And later, it would be dismissed, casually and without concern.

There was something just a bit unsettling about that. 

He resolved not to think about it too hard. 

Having satisfied himself that the doppleganger was, at least, still breathing, he joined the other agents who currently lived and worked out of Locksley Manor. There was a small rotating group of them given long-term assignments to this location, who all played roles as members of the Locksley family or one of a couple of key employees. Periodically, the agents would be rotated out and assigned to posts elsewhere in Midgard and others brought in, to help facilitate the illusion that they were a mostly-ordinary Midgardian noble family. Later on, the first batch of agents would be rotated in, playing the roles of the children or grandchildren of their original personas. Fandral himself had been rotating in and out of this post for centuries and had played half a dozen or more members of the Locksley family. 

It made for a lot of juggling- and a rather interesting series of family portraits. 

By now, though, the people who lived on and near the estate simply accepted that the Locksleys were an eccentric lot who tended to breed very true to the family ‘look’. 

“They’re an odd lot,” the sentiment in the village went, “But they’re our odd lot.” 

That was in part due to Fandral’s standing policy that the Locksley ‘family’ would do whatever they could to aid ‘their’ locals. The estate ran several relief funds for what had originally been the village that supplied workers for the manor and its lands, and later on scholarships for promising youngsters to attend university. They’d always been sure to treat their tenants well- much better than most other lords did. Fandral and the other Locksley agents had never imposed taxes and rents so steep as to drive their people into poverty or the poorhouse, and when the breadwinner of a tenant fell ill or was injured, they did their best to ensure that family would not be utterly ruined by their bad fortune. They permitted their tenants to hunt, fish, and forage on the estate when other lords were closing off those traditional avenues of gathering foodstuffs to their own people. And when it came time to make improvements to local infrastructure, it was done with an eye towards ensuring that their people benefited as much as the ‘Locksley family’.

In return, the tenants followed a few strict guidelines- they were not to take their foraging onto the manor grounds proper, and they were to pass gossip and news- especially regarding the numerous travelers who passed through to explore the traditional stomping grounds of Robin Hood- to the family, and they were not to get too nosy about the family itself. It mostly worked out, and the tenants of the Locksley land seemed pretty happy with the arrangement. As a result, Locksley had its own network of protective villagers who did half the work of smoothing out any issues between the family and the outside world for them. That protective network lasted even to this modern day, when the dynamic between lord and tenant was all but gone. Tradition remained, and helped keep the Locksley agents safe from the nosy inquiries of outsiders.

At the moment there were only a few operatives on-site. Most of the rest of the ‘family’ were off in London assisting with the cleanup in the wake of the Dark Elves’ attack, their help welcomed but expected, since the Locksley family had a long-established tradition of helping out in disaster zones. After all, it got them a lot of goodwill- and it gave them opportunities to gather information from other involved parties. Or even, on rare occasions, to insert operatives into agencies they otherwise couldn’t get access to, like how Dagrun had gotten herself invited to join SHIELD. Osprey remained at the manor, since she was currently running the operation. With her were four other agents, all of whom looked expectantly at Fandral as he joined them. 

“So,” Raven said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Fandral with a raised eyebrow. “Osprey here says you’ve found us a situation.”

“I don’t think it will be in our laps for very long,” Fandral said, smiling wryly at the dark-haired agent who played the part of the Locksley secretary. “I think Asgard’s going to take this one over as soon as possible.”

“What exactly happened?” That was Lark, who currently played Elizabeth Locksley, the little sister of Fandral’s persona Daniel. This was only her second appointment to Locksley- her first had been back in the Edwardian era. She’d been vital in helping keep the estate running through the First World War. Fandral was quite fond of her- she reminded him a lot of his own little sister, Dalla. 

He gave her a warmer smile than he’d given Raven before sobering. “We all heard that Prince Loki had been killed on Svartalfheim after Thor-”

“Arranged for you all to commit treason, spring him from prison, and stop the Dark Elves before he up and vanished rather than help clean up?” Raven cut in, scowling. Thor was not exactly Raven’s favorite person at the moment. Fandral was, on this matter at least, in complete agreement with the sardonic agent. 

“Yes,” he said simply. “Thor reported Loki’s death shortly before I was… sent here…”

“Exiled,” Raven muttered. “Ow.”

Lark glared at him, having just kicked his shin under the table. Fandral decided to ignore them and continue. “It appears that reports of Loki’s death were somewhat exaggerated. Somehow he found his way to the estate. He’s pretty well unconscious even after Osprey and I treated his injuries. I’ve contacted Asgard and requested a medic. I’d like to get him back as soon as possible.”

“When will they get here?” Lark asked.

Fandral shrugged. “Not sure,” he replied. “Hopefully soon. Until then, let’s keep things quiet. I’ll keep an eye on Loki. I know most of his tricks.” Raven made a face, but nodded. “I’ll make sure any appointments are postponed until after he’s gone.”

“Thank you. Osprey, Lark, I think you two can go about business as usual until further notice.”

The two women nodded agreement, and shortly after they all dispersed. Fandral returned to the room where the clone was sleeping and dropped into a chair, ostensibly to keep watch. Instead, he half-closed his eyes, calling up the thin threads of his own magic and weaving them into the spells he’d painstakenly laid on the estate itself alongside the magics of the more powerful sorcerers in their group. There was a spell among them that would detect the Bifrost fixing on the estate, and he wanted to know the moment that happened.

♔—- Loki had plenty of preparations to make on his end, including announcing that their second prince had been found alive and that they were doing everything they could to keep him that way. Sadly, it was a lot of hustle and bustle on Asgard, parading around in Odin’s visage as he’d been doing for many, many weeks. There was little more he could do on Midgard until the time came that he could actually move the clone to Asgard. 

Fortunately, he had the perfect excuse to send Asmund down to Midgard to help take care of the injured prince. Asmund had been Loki’s carer and healer since the time Loki was a small child. In many ways, he was often more present and more influential in Loki’s life and upbringing than either of his parents actually were. Loki’s health likely wouldn’t be trusted to anyone before Asmund, so the healer would get to stretch his legs and make his way down to the Locksley Estate to cater to their plans.

“Are you sure you won’t need me here?” Asmund asked as Loki helped him pack a small bag of essentials as well as medical supplies. “I’d hate to leave you in a time of such great stress.”

“You won’t be gone for long, Asmund, and as much as I’d like to keep you here, in order to pull this off, I need you there for a little while. Besides, you won’t be far away from me. I’ll be right next to you.”

“Yes, I suppose… but–”

“It’s truly endearing how much you fret over me, but sometimes you worry a bit too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount, actually,” Asmund scuffed and, to his credit, Loki would probably be an even bigger mess if not for Asmund. The healing and physical care aside, the healer was one of the few people Loki felt absolutely comfortable with and could open up to without fear of ridicule or an infectious need to keep himself reserved. “It’s kept you alive all this time, hasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Loki chuckled and gave Asmund a gentle squeeze. “And if you want to help me keep my sanity now, I need you there. The sooner I can be myself and not Odin, the better off I’ll be and the better off Asgard will be because of it.”

Thankfully, that was enough of an argument to quiet Asmund’s worries and Loki quickly carted him off to the Bifrost where Heimdall stood waiting for them. Loki thought sending him by a smaller portal or backward passage out of Asgard might have been quicker and quieter, but Fandral and his group at Locksley would have a far harder time seeing Asmund coming without the Bifrost.

Soon enough after the initial message was sent and the request for additional support made, the Bifrost opened just outside of Fandral’s Midgardian estate, where it would hopefully go unnoticed by locals. Asmund stood in the center of the mark left behind by the rainbow bridge, feeling slightly disoriented. He didn’t travel off-realm nearly as much as Loki or even Gael, his brother, did, so he was not completely unaffected by the Bifrost’s turbulence, but he managed to keep on his feet and walk forward without stumbling after a moment or two to get his head back on straight. 

Where, exactly, he was going though? That was a little vague, so he followed Heimdall’s advice and made his way towards the rather impressive estate with the hope that someone would come and meet him to guide him the rest of the way. A map would have been helpful… Heimdall often forgot that others could not see things as easily as he could. Not that Asmund really blamed him. Heimdall could see everything always. It was likely difficult for him to really understand how limited the average person truly was.

“Bifrost,” he said, still a little breathless from the brief contact with the powerful energies of the Rainbow Bridge. “Asgard’s sent someone- it’s probably a healer for Loki. Can you go meet them?”

Raven nodded briskly and eyed him. “You might want a comb before anyone official shows up here.”

Fandral just sighed. “Go get our new guest,” he told him. “The Bifrost touched down just outside the apple orchard.”

Raven smirked, leaving without another word as Fandral went to ensure everything was ready. 

The dark-haired agent paused only long enough to let the others know that Asgard had sent someone before he made his way out through the grounds. The orchard was an old one- it had been established shortly after Fandral, in his guise as Robin of Locksley, had gained formal ownership of the property. The individual trees weren’t that old, of course, but they’d been consistently renewed over the years, occasionally supplemented with grafts from Aesir apple trees, just to bring in some familiarity for the agents established there. Not golden apples. Those who tended the enchanted golden apples would never allow a graft to be taken from one of their trees. Just ordinary Asgardian apples.

The fruit of one of those grafted trees was just ripening, and Raven snagged a couple from the branch as he passed by. It never hurt to bring a bit of sweet along when meeting someone new. 

He spotted the figure dressed in semiformal Aesir style wandering towards the manor house, and hurried over. The newcomer was also dark-haired, and had the look of a healer about him. Good. Loki definitely needed a healer’s attention- and the sooner he got that attention and got shipped back to Asgard, the happier Raven would be. The recent stories of Loki were too erratic and alarming to make Raven comfortable with having him here. 

“I will not deny Loki is good at word games,” Fandral said, dropping his tone to a frigid chill. “I will even go so far as to accept the possibility that he said something Thor took as encouragement. Since neither of us were there for that conversation, neither of us can say for certain what words were exchanged between them.” He would cede that point- only just. “But even if Loki did talk Thor into going to Jotunheim, Thor was the one who dragged the rest of us there. It was Thor who marched right into the heart of the Jotun palace and confronted Laufey. It was Thor who was aggravating and insulting to the king of another realm. And it was Thor who lost his temper to a scathing remark, drew his weapon first, and attacked the Jotuns. Thor. Not Loki. Gods above, below, and beyond, Sif, is that the sort of man you think is best fit to rule Asgard?” 

He shook his head sharply, though something occurred to him that left a knot of ice in his stomach. Loki had said something very similar, during that conversation they’d all had in the wake of Thor’s banishment. Loki saw those deficits in Thor’s judgment and self-control. And it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. Loki had other friends he talked to, and Fandral had eyes and ears in the Royal Wing. He remembered a report one of those spies had given him, describing a conversation Loki had had with a friend some months ago. Loki had been venting about something foolish Thor had done, and had expressed frustration with how no one else seemed to see these flaws in his brother’s character, how he wished someone could see that Thor wasn’t ready for the crown, or at least listen when Loki expressed his own doubts.

Gods above, he realized. It was- just within the realm of possibility that Loki had orchestrated all of this. But- he’d seen the dismay on Loki’s face when Thor announced they were going to Jotunheim. He’d seen his panicked expression when he’d been wounded. He’d seen how stricken he’d been when Fandral had been released from the medics and gotten caught up on what had happened while he’d been busy trying not to bleed out. He’d seen that Loki was visibly upset that Thor had been banished. 

If Loki had orchestrated all of this- the Jotuns infiltrating the Vault, the trip to Jotunheim- Fandral was willing to bet anything that he had not done it intending to have Thor banished. He had not done it intending for any of them to actually be hurt. He’d warned them. No one in a position to seriously intervene had taken him seriously. So he’d acted, trusting to Thor’s temper and arrogance to prove to everyone that he was not, in fact, ready to be king.

The thoughts raced through his mind in a flash. He weighed them quickly, then set them aside. They were questions to deal with later, when he wasn’t staring down an increasingly vexed swordswoman who had once thrown him into the harbor.

At least Volstagg was backing him. Volstagg was a dear- a good-hearted man and magnificent warrior- but he was notoriously reluctant to get involved in a conflict. He didn’t like to start trouble, he didn’t like to make people upset. He’d much rather either calm people down or just go with the emotional current of the group rather than make waves by arguing with them. As a result, the more decisive- and argumentative- members of the group tended to run right over the top of him.  It was nice to see that Volstagg was actually thinking fairly clearly, and was willing to try and talk a little sense into the others now that Fandral was leading the charge. 

He read the warning in Sif’s posture and expression. He did not back down. 

He did, however, keep his arms loose, keep his gaze just a hair unfocused so he could better take in movement in his peripheral vision. He didn’t think she would draw a weapon on him, but it was possible, and if she did, he would be ready for her. At this close range, he’d be better going for his parrying dagger first. Her blade was heavier and longer, and would be just that little bit slower to draw and that little bit more awkward to use against such a close target. 

Let her see that I am ready to meet her if she draws her sword. Let her see how thoroughly I disapprove of this course of action, and that I am ready to back up my decision. Maybe, maybe it will make her think about what she’s committing herself to.

“I have, Sif,” he said, not flinching away from her fierce gaze. “I will not betray my king. And if you have any sense, neither will you.”

♔—- Anyone who knew Sif–truly knew her beyond the reputation she’d gained amongst the masses–knew that she was a fair deal more capable than most of the warriors she surrounded herself with. While she did have something of a temper and a streak of stubbornness that rivaled both of the princes, her intelligence and determination spoke wonders. She usually had a relatively level head about herself and even when she lost herself to the heat of battle, she was never foolish about it. 

She did, however, never back down from a challenge and once she set her mind to something, getting her to reconsider was a fool’s errand.

Now, Fandral took the place of the fool, apparently, because he’d challenged her, made his differing stance perfectly clear, and tried desperately to get her to reconsider her course of action. To Fan’s credit, had he squared off against anyone else, he likely would have convinced them by now without having to stare them down with fierce determination not to be moved. If Sif hadn’t been there, he might have even been able to talk Hogun off the ledge, but she was nothing if not incredibly resilient to persuasion. For many reasons–reasons even Loki understood–she needed to be, but it often meant that she couldn’t be talked off the ledge.

“Fine,” she said, and while her expression suggested that she’d hissed the word, she sounded eerily calm. “If you want to stay here and suck up to Loki, be my guest, but I’m not going to leave Thor on Midgard, stranded, with no way of knowing what’s happened to our home.” She forcefully pushed past Fandral and made her way back to her horse. “Come on, Hogun, we need to leave.”

Hogun moved towards his horse as well, seemingly determined to follow Sif’s lead. Always such a hard person to read, the only way anyone could be sure of what he thought or felt was who’s ideas he tended to go along with. Sif and Thor were usually at the top. He followed Sif around like a lost puppy more often than not, doing as she suggests without much question. 

“Hogun,” Volstagg spoke up again. “You can’t be serious?”

“We agreed we were going to rescue our friend. That is all that matters.”

“It’s treason!”

“Aye, but Thor would do the same for us, would he not?”

That was the question, though, wasn’t it? While Thor did dearly love his friends, Thor also dearly loved his brother, and they all saw how quick Thor was to throw Loki down and remind him of his place beneath him. Would Thor really go to another realm to liberate his friends from banishment if his father would come down on him for it? In truth, Volstagg wasn’t actually sure and neither was Loki, but Sif and Hogun seemed damned well sure of it.

“Honestly?” Volstagg grumbled, though he wasn’t angry, he was clearly exasperated from the arguing. There was a reason he usually just let people go off and he would follow without complaint. But he had a wife and many children to think of and Fandral gave him an out for this hopeless quest… He’d feel guilty about it later. “If Thor were here and we were in Thor’s position, I’m not certain I would expect him to come for us. Mostly because his duties to Asgard are more important than his loyalty to us.”

“Enough!” Sif growled as she pulled herself into the saddle, her icy glare cutting through Volstagg for a moment rather than Fandral. “We’ll go without them and we’ll be sure to let Thor know why two of his best friends decided he wasn’t worth saving.”

Loki sighed behind the entrance to the stable and, for a moment, turned away from the scene completely so he could press his shoulders against the building’s exterior. He hadn’t really expected Fandral to succeed in changing Sif’s mind. She was in love with Thor, after all, it was plain as day whenever they were together. She longed for him and he rarely seemed to return her advances, at least not on the scale she preferred. Even still, that didn’t stop her. Mix that with her unending hatred of Thor’s little brother and it was no shock that she couldn’t be persuaded to reconsider.

He just wished it had been more successful so he didn’t have to do what he was about to do. The invisibility spell faded away and Loki popped back into existence, though no one was around to see it aside from those still concealed by the stables. What would he have to do in order to stop them? Would he have to stop them by force?

Letting out a long, slow breath, he finally pushed himself away from the wall and moved into the opened doorway. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that,” he said. “You won’t be going to Midgard… or anywhere, for that matter.”

“Lok–I mean… m-my king!” Volstagg stammered, quickly lowering himself into about as good of a bow as his large stature could allow. Loki’s eye twitched ever so slightly. He still didn’t like that. “What in the Nine are you doing all the way out here? Surely you have more urgent matters to attend?”

Damn it. Damn it all. Why Thor’s friends had to be so damn stubborn...

Alright, in fairness he was stubborn too, but he wasn’t the one actively planning treason!

He wasn’t so certain Volstagg had the right read on the situation, however. If they were the ones who’d been exiled, he would absolutely expect Thor to show up, because Thor had shown a distressing streak of not especially caring to consider the responsibilities that actually came with his position and duties. Thor would absolutely favor his loyalty to his friends over his duties to Asgard. He wouldn’t think twice about going and dragging them back, and damn the consequences.

I think I may have been supporting the wrong brother. 

Thankfully, though, Loki chose about that moment to make his entrance. Right on cue. At least now they could actually deal with the situation in a way that might even make an impression on Sif.

Though in all honestly, he wasn’t certain even this would change her mind.

“Sire,” he said, also giving Loki a polite bow. He’d spotted the twitch under the sorcerer’s eye, and sympathized. Loki had never seemed entirely at ease with the more formal gestures of respect that were due him as first a prince and now as the temporary King of Asgard. Right now, though, he was going to follow all the appropriate forms and social interactions that would reinforce to Sif and Hogun that yes, Loki was the rightful king and had every right to be royally pissed off with their attempts at treason. “I’m sorry.”

Fandral had to privately agree. It had been nice chatting with Loki, especially a Loki who seemed a good deal… saner and more clear-headed than he had been the last few times he’d seen him. 

He murmured a brief farewell to the sorcerer as he disappeared, then turned his attention towards the clone he’d left behind. Interesting that Loki had confirmed he was able to see and hear what it experienced. There was a subtle warning in that confirmation too- I can see and hear what it does. I could be watching you. 

Well, fortunately Fandral had no plans or interest in betraying Loki. He’d just mind his tongue around the clone and say nothing that could be misinterpreted.

“I’d best get you somewhere more comfortable than the ground next to a grave,” he muttered. Silently, he promised himself a longer visit with Marian and Azeem next time, then knelt and gathered up the clone in his arms. The hike back to the manor was a less than pleasant one. He had to watch his feet carefully so as not to trip and spill his burden, and his route was a roundabout one. There were some human staff working here still, and he had to take a path that would keep him away from windows they might see him through. 

He took a side door, then one of the old servants’ stairways to a corridor lined with what had once been sleeping quarters for the household staff. Most of them had been converted, now used by the Aesir agents who worked out of Locksley as offices and the like. Going to one of the doors, he kicked it rather than try and resettle the clone’s weight to free a hand. 

“Hope you’re ready for your performance,” he muttered to the clone before raising his voice. “Osprey! Osprey, get out here!”

Osprey, the head of the full-time agents who operated out of Locksley Manor, stepped out of her office with a frown. “Fox, what-”

Her eyes fell on the bloody clone cradled in Fandral’s arms. She paled, eyes going wide as she recognized the figure. “Is that-”

“It is,” he confirmed. “Help me get him settled and tended. We need to send word to Asgard for a healer if we can’t get him in decent shape here.”

She nodded and quickly took him to one of the spare bedrooms, helping him get the clone onto the bed. “He’s in bad shape…”

“Considering he was officially reported dead? I’m hardly surprised.”

They spoke little for the next half-hour, getting the clone’s wound tended to as best they could. Finally, once a healing stone had been applied and they’d finished bandaging the clone’s chest, Osprey looked over at Fandral. “We can’t leave him unattended,” she said. “He’s a criminal.”

“He helped save all of reality,” Fandral retorted. “He gave his life on Svartalfheim, or nearly, anyway. And he helped save both Thor and that mortal girl he’s so fond of. It’s at least grounds for a reassessment.”

She frowned at that. “We at least need to let the Allfather know he’s alive.”

“Of course.” He gestured dismissively. “I’ll do it as soon as I get cleaned up. Stand guard if you want, or get one of the other agents. But don’t antagonize him when he wakes. Right now he’s practically half-dead, it’s not the time to treat him like a threat.”

He left, hurrying to wash and don something not streaked with blood before calling in to Asgard.

♔—- Unfortunately for Fandral, the clone was very lifelike. Loki had a certain range on his cloning abilities. Sometimes, he simply used illusions of himself to get the job done, while other times, he created fully functioning bodies that actually did have a resemblance of consciousness of their own. They could make decisions for themselves, take care of themselves, and act accordingly for day-to-day life without Loki babysitting them every step of the way, but they were always connected to Loki. In a way, they were sort of just an extension of his own consciousness, almost like he was literally in two places at once. 

It was the closest he ever came to actually accomplishing the being in two places at once trick, anyway. As far as he was concerned, it worked well enough.

Creating a full-fledged clone did drain quite a bit of energy from the God. After perfecting the skill, it wasn’t difficult, but it did take a lot of raw magic to more or less build a copy of himself. Loki got to go home and wait for the news of the prince being found, though. Fandral, on the other hand, had to haul 500+ pounds of dead weight through the grounds of his estate, find a suitable place to lie him down inside, and tend to his wounds to give a proper show of urgency in preserving the prince’s life.

Loki wondered what Fandral’s colleagues would think? What they would say? Probably best not to think too much about it just yet. Fixing his reputation was going to take work and he understood that. After what happened on Midgard… Loki couldn’t exactly blame people for how negatively they reacted to him after. He hadn’t even been himself then, hadn’t been working under his own desires. Sometimes he still feared that the Mind Gem had not completely worked its way out of his head. Gods, it even amplified some magical abilities he possessed that he’d rather not use at all and as much as he feared Thanos, he wondered if he feared the Mind Gem even more? Of losing himself to something else entirely to the point that his own being and his own sanity were completely overshadowed by it.

Experiencing something like that and coming out on the other side? As tired as he was, he was truly thankful for how much work he had to focus on. It kept his mind occupied.

As Loki made his way back to Asgard and locked himself away in his study as per usual, the clone showed little signs of waking. It breathed short, shallow breaths that came in bursts as if the wound made breathing rather difficult. Loki sat at his desk to continue the paperwork he’d left behind, though he did find himself pawing at his chest through the robe he changed into. He could often feel what his clones felt, the one downside to creating one with such a horrible injury. Physically, he was fine, but the phantom pains were there.

The healing stone applied to the clone helped even his breathing, though. While the stone didn’t completely repair the rather extensive damage, it was enough to stabilize the prince’s doppelganger and allowed those looking after him to bandage the wound and get him to a moderately safe condition to rest without fear of him passing suddenly. He would likely need a healer, though, a trained one. If Fandral requested it, Loki would send Asmund. It wouldn’t make sense to send anyone else, as Asmund has been trusted with his care since infancy. Asmund’s fretting would certainly help sell the illusion that Loki wished to present, anyway. No one still living on Asgard cared for Loki quite like Asmund did and him confirming the prince was alive and looked after would be all the proof most anyone would need.

The clone showed little sign of waking, though. It would likely take some time of rest and care before consciousness–full consciousness, anyway–actually greeted the fallen prince. A soft whimper or groan could occasionally be heard, though, reflecting what pain the prince’s poor state brought him.

Loki hadn’t been in his office for more than an hour, maybe two, when someone knocked. He recognized the knock straight away. Sigurd, Odin’s adviser, and one of the few people who actually got away with publicly supporting Loki as their future ruler over Thor knocked one and then twice in a familiar pattern that Loki could identify straight away. He also happened to be one of the few individuals who actually knew of Loki’s true identity. He’d been one of the first Loki confronted after putting Odin to sleep.

“Come in,” Loki called, though the door was already opening. “It’s rather later, Sigurd. What could you possibly be doing up at this hour?”

“As if you aren’t already aware of what’s woken me up,” Sigurd said, acting as if he’d even been asleep at all. “It appears you’ve been quite busy. Word from that swordsman you banished to Midgard’s come through. He’s supposedly ‘found Prince Loki alive but in rather bad shape’. He reported that once he stabilized your condition, he immediately sent word to inform Asgard and, more importantly, the All-father. I knew you wanted to reintroduce yourself to Asgard so you could stop wearing your father’s face, but I never imagined you’d create a wounded clone to sell the image. And involving that swordsman of yours too? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Fandral is hardly mine,” Loki retorted, setting his quill aside so he could stand. He wrapped the robe more tightly around his body, one hand lingering over where the hole in his chest had been. “But he is loyal to Asgard and its future and he believes, right now, I’m the best candidate for a good future. Odin was willing to send off all of his people to die to the Dark Elves and Thor abandoned Asgard when it needed him the most. Convincing Fandral to help wasn’t exactly difficult and I’m sure he’ll remain loyal so long as I don’t give him a reason to doubt my intentions. Seeing as my intentions are honest, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I cannot believe, after all this time, that you are still so soft for that boy,” Sigurd sighed, rubbing his temple lightly. He always had supported Loki over Thor. Loki was intelligent, took his studies seriously, and understood politics in a way Thor never grasped. Loki, despite how much he didn’t really want the job, was a polished diplomat, and he could make great things happen for Asgard and all who fell under Asgard’s protection. And Sigurd believed he could do it for real, not for show as Odin always had. But Loki did have a bad habit of letting his emotions run away from him, even when he didn’t show that. He felt so thoroughly and that would make him an empathetic king, but it would also be a trying challenge to overcome. “I hope you’re sure about him. I don’t want to see all the progress you’ve made for Asgard and for yourself lost because of one bitter warrior exposing you.”

“I am not soft for Fandral,” Loki nearly hissed. Though he kept his tone under control enough not to, he still sounded rather offended. “And Fandral isn’t the type to betray those he’s given his word to. He’ll help without causing any uneasy waters.”

“Has he not already betrayed you once, Loki?” Sigurd asked, though his tone was far more gentle this time around. He’d been there when the split in Loki and Fandral’s relationship first formed and watching how much it hurt the prince had been painful for Sigurd to watch when he knew there was little he could do to ease the prince’s aching heart. “I do not mean to discourage you, only caution you to be careful with him.”

A frown tugged at the king’s lips, but he couldn’t exactly argue, could he? Sigurd wasn’t in affiliation with the spy network that Fandral worked for. Sigurd had a more… private version of it. While most thought of him as just an adviser, Sigurd had spies and connections all across Yggdrasil, but they reported to him and went no further unless Sigurd thought some information was imperative. That network wasn’t designed for use of the king. It was designed to ensure Asgard has the best intelligence and prepared for the worst in spite of whoever sat on the throne. Loki wasn’t sure if Sigurd would have any knowledge of Fandral’s position with the Old Wolf or not, but it wasn’t his place to expose that. 

And even if he did know the whys of Fandral’s decision, Loki wasn’t convinced that would actually change Sigurd’s opinions of Fandral’s actions. And… sadly, even if Loki understood Fandral more, Sigurd wasn’t entirely wrong to point out the truth.

“It’s your job to advise me,” he agreed. “Consider me advised, but please trust me on this. Now, what else did the message say? Have they requested a healer? Any supplies?”

“They’ve made it pretty clear that your clone is in no condition to travel here. He’ll need time to recover before he can be brought to Asgard. Sending a healer would probably be in your best interest. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone who is 100 percent on your side there to keep an eye on things.”

“You are one distrusting bastard, you know that?”

“Where do you think you get it from?”

That cracked a little smile across the young king’s features. “I suppose we ought to reach out to them personally and discuss how to proceed?”

“So long as you are ready to put Odin’s face back on.”

There was something just a bit unsettling about that. 

He resolved not to think about it too hard. 

Having satisfied himself that the doppleganger was, at least, still breathing, he joined the other agents who currently lived and worked out of Locksley Manor. There was a small rotating group of them given long-term assignments to this location, who all played roles as members of the Locksley family or one of a couple of key employees. Periodically, the agents would be rotated out and assigned to posts elsewhere in Midgard and others brought in, to help facilitate the illusion that they were a mostly-ordinary Midgardian noble family. Later on, the first batch of agents would be rotated in, playing the roles of the children or grandchildren of their original personas. Fandral himself had been rotating in and out of this post for centuries and had played half a dozen or more members of the Locksley family. 

It made for a lot of juggling- and a rather interesting series of family portraits. 

By now, though, the people who lived on and near the estate simply accepted that the Locksleys were an eccentric lot who tended to breed very true to the family ‘look’. 

“They’re an odd lot,” the sentiment in the village went, “But they’re our odd lot.” 

That was in part due to Fandral’s standing policy that the Locksley ‘family’ would do whatever they could to aid ‘their’ locals. The estate ran several relief funds for what had originally been the village that supplied workers for the manor and its lands, and later on scholarships for promising youngsters to attend university. They’d always been sure to treat their tenants well- much better than most other lords did. Fandral and the other Locksley agents had never imposed taxes and rents so steep as to drive their people into poverty or the poorhouse, and when the breadwinner of a tenant fell ill or was injured, they did their best to ensure that family would not be utterly ruined by their bad fortune. They permitted their tenants to hunt, fish, and forage on the estate when other lords were closing off those traditional avenues of gathering foodstuffs to their own people. And when it came time to make improvements to local infrastructure, it was done with an eye towards ensuring that their people benefited as much as the ‘Locksley family’.

In return, the tenants followed a few strict guidelines- they were not to take their foraging onto the manor grounds proper, and they were to pass gossip and news- especially regarding the numerous travelers who passed through to explore the traditional stomping grounds of Robin Hood- to the family, and they were not to get too nosy about the family itself. It mostly worked out, and the tenants of the Locksley land seemed pretty happy with the arrangement. As a result, Locksley had its own network of protective villagers who did half the work of smoothing out any issues between the family and the outside world for them. That protective network lasted even to this modern day, when the dynamic between lord and tenant was all but gone. Tradition remained, and helped keep the Locksley agents safe from the nosy inquiries of outsiders.

At the moment there were only a few operatives on-site. Most of the rest of the ‘family’ were off in London assisting with the cleanup in the wake of the Dark Elves’ attack, their help welcomed but expected, since the Locksley family had a long-established tradition of helping out in disaster zones. After all, it got them a lot of goodwill- and it gave them opportunities to gather information from other involved parties. Or even, on rare occasions, to insert operatives into agencies they otherwise couldn’t get access to, like how Dagrun had gotten herself invited to join SHIELD. Osprey remained at the manor, since she was currently running the operation. With her were four other agents, all of whom looked expectantly at Fandral as he joined them. 

“So,” Raven said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Fandral with a raised eyebrow. “Osprey here says you’ve found us a situation.”

“I don’t think it will be in our laps for very long,” Fandral said, smiling wryly at the dark-haired agent who played the part of the Locksley secretary. “I think Asgard’s going to take this one over as soon as possible.”

“What exactly happened?” That was Lark, who currently played Elizabeth Locksley, the little sister of Fandral’s persona Daniel. This was only her second appointment to Locksley- her first had been back in the Edwardian era. She’d been vital in helping keep the estate running through the First World War. Fandral was quite fond of her- she reminded him a lot of his own little sister, Dalla. 

He gave her a warmer smile than he’d given Raven before sobering. “We all heard that Prince Loki had been killed on Svartalfheim after Thor-”

“Arranged for you all to commit treason, spring him from prison, and stop the Dark Elves before he up and vanished rather than help clean up?” Raven cut in, scowling. Thor was not exactly Raven’s favorite person at the moment. Fandral was, on this matter at least, in complete agreement with the sardonic agent. 

“Yes,” he said simply. “Thor reported Loki’s death shortly before I was... sent here...”

“Exiled,” Raven muttered. “Ow.”

Lark glared at him, having just kicked his shin under the table. Fandral decided to ignore them and continue. “It appears that reports of Loki’s death were somewhat exaggerated. Somehow he found his way to the estate. He’s pretty well unconscious even after Osprey and I treated his injuries. I’ve contacted Asgard and requested a medic. I’d like to get him back as soon as possible.”

“When will they get here?” Lark asked.

Fandral shrugged. “Not sure,” he replied. “Hopefully soon. Until then, let’s keep things quiet. I’ll keep an eye on Loki. I know most of his tricks.” Raven made a face, but nodded. “I’ll make sure any appointments are postponed until after he’s gone.”

“Thank you. Osprey, Lark, I think you two can go about business as usual until further notice.”

Gods. Of course Sif would bring that up. And while Loki was listening. He was going to get it from the sorcerer for that later.

“You are right, I did lose my temper some, and while I was frustrated by Volstagg’s insistence on focusing on food now of all times, I never said we ought to go commit treason behind Loki’s back in order to address the situation. Because that is precisely what you’re having us do. And even though I was upset, I took a moment to stop and think about what you’re having us do. It’s wrong, Sif.” 

He set his jaw and met Sif’s gaze. “And where do you get the notion that he isn’t the rightful king? He’s Thor’s brother, and while Thor may have been the heir, Loki was always next in line after him. The Allmother, for whatever reason, chose to pass on her duties as interim Queen while the Allfather sleeps to Loki, which is entirely reasonable since Thor’s own idiotic hot-headedness got himself banished for nearly starting another war with Jotunheim! Loki is the rightful king. He made a choice to uphold his predecessor’s decision, and rather than, say, waiting for things to settle down some, you and Hogun immediately decide that the best way to deal with the situation is to go against royal orders and hare off to Midgard to bring Thor back. Gods, the very first thing you did was to run to Loki and demand that he bring Thor back! Haven’t you stopped to think? Thor nearly got us all killed on Jotunheim. He marched right into the palace, and if it weren’t for Laufey’s cooler head and Loki talking Laufey out of taking us prisoner, he would have been more than happy to reignite the conflict between our two realms.” He took a step closer to Sif, anger glittering in his eyes in what was, for him, a rare display. Fandral rarely got angry with his friends. Frustrated, yes, and exasperated, and even annoyed, but rarely did he show anger. He was angry now, at Sif’s stubborn refusal to see the bigger picture in all this. 

He was actually somewhat surprised at how angry this was making him. Something about Sif’s insistence on this course of action was touching a serious nerve in him. Maybe it was just that he was now directly dealing with her complete lack of regard for the sorcerer, or the way she was bound and determined to follow through with this lunatic decision.

“Thor’s pride and arrogance nearly got me killed on Jotunheim, unless you’ve forgotten already. If it weren’t for Loki, I would have died there. Thor would have insisted on staying and fighting, and we likely would have been overrun by Jotuns who by that point had plenty of valid reason to be pissed off at us. If it weren’t for Loki leaving word about where we were going, we would have been trapped on Jotunheim because Heimdall wouldn’t have been able to open the Bifrost and bring us home! We owe Loki our freedom and our lives, Sif, and you’re choosing to repay him by dismissing his current rightful claim to the throne and go behind his back to commit and bring Thor home? Gods, I’m starting to think you’ve been hit on the head in weapons practice a few too many times!”

♔—- Fandral’s anger was enough to make every single one of them pause, even Loki unseen behind the entrance of the stables. The swordsman rarely showed anything along the lines of rage. Gods, he built a reputation for himself of never taking anything too seriously off the battlefield, of being friendly, cheerful, and the type of person anyone would get along with. Even his annoyance could often be overlooked as fond exasperation rather than true annoyance.

If nothing else, he was very good at hiding what he truly felt, keeping his emotions reigned in and well trained so they didn’t run away from him, but he didn’t even try to keep himself level now. While his argument was rational, he did very little to hide the truth of how he was feeling about Sif and Hogun’s apparent joy at the idea of running off behind Loki’s back despite how horrible of an idea it actually was.

Did they not truly understand what was at stake for them if they followed through on this plan? It wouldn’t even matter if Loki wanted to punish them, as the temporary King of Asgard, he wouldn’t be able to gloss over an open act of treason. Did they truly hold him in such little regard that they did not actually see going against him as treason?

Gods, Loki knew Sif–and for some reason he was far foggier on–Hogun did not like him, but this had nothing to do with like and dislike. Respect and loyalty often had little to do with whether or not you liked someone or not. 

At the very least, Fandral didn’t lose rationality in his points as his temper spiked, and the more he spoke up, the more Volstagg seemed willing to agree with him rather than simply go along with whatever his friends determined was the best course of action. As long as he had another voice going along with what he thought, he wasn’t so easily pushed over.

“You cannot possibly believe that Loki saved all of us,” Sif growled, her own anger spiking. She rarely backed down from a challenger, even if said challenger happened to be one of her dear friends. She hadn’t expected Fandral of all people to be the one she’d have to argue her points with, but if he wanted to get up in her face, she didn’t have a problem shoving back. “If it weren’t for him, Thor wouldn’t have been banished in the first place! He ratted us out to the All-father and who’s to say that he hadn’t convinced Thor the trip to Jotunheim was a good idea on purpose to land him right in the position he’s in now?”

“That’s a stretch and you know it,” Volstagg added, but only once he recovered from the gobsmacked expression Fandral’s outburst caused. “None of us would have thought that the All-father would banish his own son for doing something stupid, especially since Thor’s an expert in stupid.” Hogun fixed him with A Look at that comment. “Oh, come on. We all love and support him, but we all know he’d be dead if it weren’t for us. And Fandral’s not wrong, if Loki hadn’t said anything, he would be dead right now and the rest of us would be, at best, trying to figure a way out of Jotunheim’s dungeons. Assuming we lived that long.”

Sif spun around, glaring hard at Volstagg. “So, what, you’re saying we should just forget about Thor and leave him on Midgard? Do nothing?”

“Maybe there’s nothing to do, Sif.”

As she exhaled, clearly exasperated, Loki could only picture steam seeping out of her nostrils and ears. She was not pleased in her friends apparently chickening out of the ridiculous plan they’d concocted together and it wouldn’t surprise him if she actually hit one of them. Hopefully, she wouldn’t actually hurt Fandral. He’d barely been out of recovery for a life-threatening injury. 

He shook his head sharply, though something occurred to him that left a knot of ice in his stomach. Loki had said something very similar, during that conversation they’d all had in the wake of Thor’s banishment. Loki saw those deficits in Thor’s judgment and self-control. And it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. Loki had other friends he talked to, and Fandral had eyes and ears in the Royal Wing. He remembered a report one of those spies had given him, describing a conversation Loki had had with a friend some months ago. Loki had been venting about something foolish Thor had done, and had expressed frustration with how no one else seemed to see these flaws in his brother’s character, how he wished someone could see that Thor wasn’t ready for the crown, or at least listen when Loki expressed his own doubts.

Gods above, he realized. It was- just within the realm of possibility that Loki had orchestrated all of this. But- he’d seen the dismay on Loki’s face when Thor announced they were going to Jotunheim. He’d seen his panicked expression when he’d been wounded. He’d seen how stricken he’d been when Fandral had been released from the medics and gotten caught up on what had happened while he’d been busy trying not to bleed out. He’d seen that Loki was visibly upset that Thor had been banished. 

If Loki had orchestrated all of this- the Jotuns infiltrating the Vault, the trip to Jotunheim- Fandral was willing to bet anything that he had not done it intending to have Thor banished. He had not done it intending for any of them to actually be hurt. He’d warned them. No one in a position to seriously intervene had taken him seriously. So he’d acted, trusting to Thor’s temper and arrogance to prove to everyone that he was not, in fact, ready to be king.

The thoughts raced through his mind in a flash. He weighed them quickly, then set them aside. They were questions to deal with later, when he wasn’t staring down an increasingly vexed swordswoman who had once thrown him into the harbor.

At least Volstagg was backing him. Volstagg was a dear- a good-hearted man and magnificent warrior- but he was notoriously reluctant to get involved in a conflict. He didn’t like to start trouble, he didn’t like to make people upset. He’d much rather either calm people down or just go with the emotional current of the group rather than make waves by arguing with them. As a result, the more decisive- and argumentative- members of the group tended to run right over the top of him.  It was nice to see that Volstagg was actually thinking fairly clearly, and was willing to try and talk a little sense into the others now that Fandral was leading the charge. 

He read the warning in Sif’s posture and expression. He did not back down. 

He did, however, keep his arms loose, keep his gaze just a hair unfocused so he could better take in movement in his peripheral vision. He didn’t think she would draw a weapon on him, but it was possible, and if she did, he would be ready for her. At this close range, he’d be better going for his parrying dagger first. Her blade was heavier and longer, and would be just that little bit slower to draw and that little bit more awkward to use against such a close target. 

Let her see that I am ready to meet her if she draws her sword. Let her see how thoroughly I disapprove of this course of action, and that I am ready to back up my decision. Maybe, maybe it will make her think about what she’s committing herself to.

He gave that question a moment of fair consideration. That year had been rough- short rations for a mortal were even shorter for an Aesir, and his jailers had been fairly stingy with their food allotment. He’d spent most of that year exhausted, dirty, and almost dizzy with hunger. At least he hadn’t gotten sick, like a lot of the other prisoners.

“It was…. certainly unpleasant,” he said slowly. “And the year or so after that was pretty rough. I didn’t like being in dark, enclosed places very much after that, especially if they were hot.” He shivered a little in spite of the steaming water. Funny, how easy it was to talk to Loki. Loki was a damn good listener, and had a knack for the kind of gentle prompting that would draw out more of a tale. “Robert of Locksley died while I was in that prison,” he finally continued. “He charged me with making sure his betrothed, Marian, was safe. I escaped with the aid of a Moor named Azeem not long after that and returned to England, where I found a damn mess. A half-competent prince on the throne raising taxes to pay for his brother’s ransom and a pack of thugs enforcing those taxes and extorting money out of everyone they could find. One of them, the Sheriff of Nottingham, had Robert’s father accused of witchcraft, so Locksley was in a terrible state. And then to top it all off, Marian’s father confused me for Robert himself.”

♔—- Loki had to imagine that Fandral was underselling what the experiences had been like. Imprisonment and potential torture for a mortal may not have had the same impact on an Aesir, but anyone being forced into a cage unjustly with little hope of actually escaping would have a lasting impression on just about anyone regardless of race, strength, age, or experience. At least, Loki would think so. It was probably easier to assume that anyone in Gladsheim may judge him if he went to the full extent of what sort of impact it had on him, or perhaps he just didn’t wish to linger on the details…

He’d definitely experienced enough in his life that he never wanted to talk about in detail again. Sometimes even talking about something was enough to reopen old wounds, so Loki tread as carefully as he could despite his curiosity. Fandral’s comfortable was far more important than Loki getting answers to things that were not much his business anyway.

Not that most people in Gladsheim would respect those principals like Loki would. To many, trauma was part of life and nothing fuss over because it happened to everyone. One of the downsides of living in a culture so heavily carried on the backs of warriors and the wars that led to their current successes or failures. 

The hunger had almost been the worst, completely inescapable. Azeem had realized that Fandral had been suffering more than most from their scanty meals, and had shared part of his ration with the Aesir without question. That kindness had been part of why Fandral had refused to abandon him when he made his escape attempt. There’d been other reasons- he rarely did anything for one reason only- but that had been the one most important to him. Azeem had been kind, and had more than earned Fandral’s help in return. 

He shook off the memories and gave Loki a wry smile. “You would be right on both counts,” he replied. “I figured I might as well roll with it. I was going to sort things out in Robert’s name anyway, so why not? Well, to make a long story short, I adopted the nickname of Robin and set to work. I rallied locals who’d been hit hard by the prince’s taxes and the Sheriff’s cruelties, taught them a few things about it-and-run raiding and fighting, started raids on tax collectors and corrupt members of the Church to fund our work and help  the poor get by, and sort of accidentally started a movement. Next thing I knew, I had a rag-tag little army ready to follow me against the Sheriff.”

It had been a bit more involved in that- he’d managed to acquire enough fame to become something of a folk hero. He’d already been hearing ballads about Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men by the time King Richard returned.

Something about the way Loki kept referring to his father by name made him a touch uneasy, but he set that aside for now. He could focus on that oddity later. Right now he had a bigger problem to deal with.

Though he certainly could see why Odin prized Sleipnir so much. He thought his gelding Kappi had a sweet pace and excellent seat. Riding Sleipnir, even for this very short trip, was almost more like flying. He made sure to thank the big grey stallion as he dismounted before turning his attention back to business. When the young kind searched his face, he let Loki see his determination. 

“I’m sure about this,” he said firmly to the now seemingly-empty air. “You deserve better than to have people sneak around behind your back like they’re planning, even if you weren’t king. I can’t condone what they’re doing, even by silence.”

In truth, he was frustrated with Sif and the others, and even a little angry. While certainly, they’d butted heads with Loki on numerous occasions, and while Loki did have a bit of a petty streak and wasn’t always above a little creative retribution for slights, nothing he’d ever done warranted this. And that was just on the grounds of treating him as a casual friend and their friend’s little brother. Taking into consideration that he was now king, well, that just made their determination to commit treason even worse. 

Maybe he should have worked harder to speak up on Loki’s behalf in the past. He had always tried to persuade them to not be so hard on the young sorcerer, even after the two of them had grown apart. But apparently that hadn’t been enough.

Well, he was taking firmer measures now. If they were going to insist on being a lot of idiots, that was now their problem.

He nodded at the spot where Loki had been, then turned and headed down to the end of the stables where Sif and the others were saddling their mounts for the ride across the Bifrost. His own Kappi raised his elegant golden head and whickered, plainly eager to be saddled up and go out with the other horses. 

He stroked the gelding’s soft nose and mentally braced himself, looking at Sif and Hogun. Volstagg was less intent on this path- it was the lady warrior and the Vanir he had to persuade. 

“I don’t like this,” he said firmly. “This is treason, Sif. We shouldn’t be sneaking around behind Loki’s back- against direct orders, no less! We should go back to the palace.”

♔—- Loki gave Sleipnir a reassuring pat on the nose. “I’ll be back soon. Wait here,” he murmured before following Fandral off towards the stables where the swordsman and his friends kept their horses. Unseen by anyone who may be lingering nearby–which weren’t many aside from those they came to seek out–all Loki really needed to do was avoid interacting with an item that may move because he bumped into it or otherwise touched it.

For the most part, that proved to be a simple task as long as he stayed on the path that led down to the stables without walking off into the grassier areas. He kept his steps light and mindful, so as not to kick up dirt or rubble and by the time Fandral walked into the stables to confront the trio, Loki stopped at the entrance and stood off to the side as if hiding just out of sight. Really, it was so that he didn’t run the risk of one of them storming out and running directly into him. 

He didn’t want to uncloak and reveal his presence unless he absolutely had to in order to stop them… Gods, this was such a mess.

Everything was in absolute chaos, and not the kind that Loki thrived in either.

As Fandral approached, the others had already saddled up their mounts, small packs at their feet or pulled over the shoulders. They packed lightly but brought essentials just in the event that getting to Thor and bringing him back took longer than any of them anticipated. Hogun’s expression was difficult to read as it often was regardless of what he might be thinking or feeling, but Sif openly looked annoyed. Fandral must have been late to their agreed meeting, as the rest of them were ready to go and he hadn’t even begun preparations. He was also noticeably lacking a packed bag.

That detail actually had Volstagg picking up a little bit. Clearly, he still wasn’t sold on this plan of theirs and if they could get out of it somehow, he’d likely be the first one in line to opt-out. He wasn’t an idiot, he was just easily barreled over by his friends’ much louder opinions, but he knew this wouldn’t end well for any of them…

Fandral’s apparent change of heart didn’t do much to ease Sif’s expression of annoyance. If anything, she scowled for a moment, though she did do her best not to snap at her friend despite the apparent hypocrisy. 

“Fandral,” she half-sighed. “Were you not the one who knocked Volstagg’s plate out of his hand in frustration that he didn’t care that Thor was on trapped on Midgard and Loki sitting on the throne in his and the All-father’s place?” she asked, a brow arching in speculation. “You made just as much of a fuss as the rest of us, a bigger one, in fact, so why the sudden change of heart? Do you not wish to save Thor? Do you no longer want to bring our friend home? We owe it to him.”

A little frown tugged at Loki’s lips. Why had Fandral come to warn him at all if he’d been just as upset as the rest of them about the current turn of events? And why did hearing that feel like a low jab?

“That’s hardly fair, Sif,” Volstagg spoke up. “Of course, we’re all upset about Thor and our emotions were running high, but Fandral’s not wrong. Treason is, perhaps, going a step too far.”

“You too? I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Loki isn’t the rightful king. He shouldn’t be on the throne and he definitely shouldn’t be stranding Thor on Midgard so he can hold onto it–”

“You are right, I did lose my temper some, and while I was frustrated by Volstagg’s insistence on focusing on food now of all times, I never said we ought to go commit treason behind Loki’s back in order to address the situation. Because that is precisely what you’re having us do. And even though I was upset, I took a moment to stop and think about what you’re having us do. It’s wrong, Sif.” 

He set his jaw and met Sif’s gaze. “And where do you get the notion that he isn’t the rightful king? He’s Thor’s brother, and while Thor may have been the heir, Loki was always next in line after him. The Allmother, for whatever reason, chose to pass on her duties as interim Queen while the Allfather sleeps to Loki, which is entirely reasonable since Thor’s own idiotic hot-headedness got himself banished for nearly starting another war with Jotunheim! Loki is the rightful king. He made a choice to uphold his predecessor’s decision, and rather than, say, waiting for things to settle down some, you and Hogun immediately decide that the best way to deal with the situation is to go against royal orders and hare off to Midgard to bring Thor back. Gods, the very first thing you did was to run to Loki and demand that he bring Thor back! Haven’t you stopped to think? Thor nearly got us all killed on Jotunheim. He marched right into the palace, and if it weren’t for Laufey’s cooler head and Loki talking Laufey out of taking us prisoner, he would have been more than happy to reignite the conflict between our two realms.” He took a step closer to Sif, anger glittering in his eyes in what was, for him, a rare display. Fandral rarely got angry with his friends. Frustrated, yes, and exasperated, and even annoyed, but rarely did he show anger. He was angry now, at Sif’s stubborn refusal to see the bigger picture in all this. 

He was actually somewhat surprised at how angry this was making him. Something about Sif’s insistence on this course of action was touching a serious nerve in him. Maybe it was just that he was now directly dealing with her complete lack of regard for the sorcerer, or the way she was bound and determined to follow through with this lunatic decision.

He was at least passingly familiar with the workload Fritjolf had to deal with on a daily basis. The king’s workload was surely much worse, if the pile of papers he’d seen on ‘Odin’s’ desk was anything to go by.

He took a seat, carefully folding his long legs as he settled on the blanket. “I think, to a point, the workload is a matter of adjusting and getting enough experience to determine what you really need to dig into and what just needs a passing glance,” he said. “I know Odin was always pretty busy, but he never seemed to be completely swamped by the work. And yeah, I guess he didn’t have to deal with critical reconstruction work on Asgardian soil all that often, so there’s more work than usual. But you’ll get the hang of it. You’re damned smart, Loki. Once you figure out how to break down the tasks into manageable steps, you won’t feel quite so overwhelmed.”

He wished he could help with that, but honestly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to manage most of the kinds of tasks the King of Asgard was going to need to perform. All he was confident in was his ability to figure out the sort of person who could do the job and persuade them to do it. 

Maybe that would help. Maybe Loki needed to delegate some of this work to others.

Her admission that his visit had distracted her so much did make him smile. Alright, so there was that part of him that was smugly pleased he could so thoroughly distract someone as normally intently focused as Loki. But then his expression turned thoughtful at her question.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’ve kind of been kicking myself for a long time about what happened between us, both because I didn’t let myself be honest with you and because I… well, I didn’t try hard enough to persuade you not to pull away like you did. But I miss what we had. I miss you. You made me so happy, Loki, and I thought I made you happy. I’m glad I talked to you last night. I’m glad I’m talking to you now. Even if we don’t ever pursue a relationship again, I do want to restore our friendship.”

♔—- “I know it will take some time getting used to this position and once Asgard’s reconstruction is at least mostly finished, it will calm down, but this is also… never what I wanted,” she admitted. “No one would believe that if I said it aloud though. Everyone thinks I was jealous of Thor because he was destined for the crown and I wanted it, but in reality, this is the worst position anyone could have. There’s a reason why so many royals end up corrupted after a time, even if they started out with the best of intentions. I never wanted to be chained to something like this, but if Asgard has any hopes of surviving, someone has to do it.”

That someone clearly wasn’t going to be Thor. He willingly gave up his chance because he didn’t want the responsibility. And Odin? Don’t even get her started on that.

“I suppose I’m more so having a difficult time digesting that this is my life now. I thought being a prince was a lot. This is so much more… but I don’t regret the decisions that have put me here,” she confessed. “All of this is about something bigger than me and I cannot be that selfish.” The rest of Odin’s house had already proved to be and she couldn’t follow in their footsteps. Finally, it seemed to be a godsend that she wasn’t more like the rest of them. 

“There’s just a lot going through my mind right now and when I actually take a breather, that’s when I start thinking about it the most.” And contributed to her lack of sleep as well, but… that wasn’t horribly important, right? As long as she didn’t pass out in front of anyone, it’d be fine.

A tiny smile touched her lips, though it did look a tad bit sadder than she really meant to express. “You did make me happy, Fan. Very happy, in fact. For a long time, we were together, and I thought we’d be together forever, but I wasn’t–I wasn’t in a great place to have a relationship with someone who was loved by everyone and I didn’t know how to communicate my worries and feelings in a way that wouldn’t sound like paranoia or me wishing to stifle you. I never wanted you to feel poorly for being yourself and for doing what you needed to do for your work, but that’s on me. I’d hate for you to think I wasn’t happy with you and before we talked, I probably wouldn’t have admitted this, but I have missed you every day since we broke up and drifted apart. I never quite forgave myself for the way things went, and I am sorry. Sorrier still that it took all of this to have us talking properly again.”

“I won’t hold how things went against you,” he said softly. “We made our decisions, for good or ill, and we had our reasons for them that... made some kind of sense at the time. Or at least, we believed they made sense at the time. It’s how things go. Neither of us hurt the other out of malice or spite, just fear and misjudged priorities. I forgive you, Loki, and I’m glad to be back on your side.”

Okay, I promise this is my last personal post spam ( maybe… ), but I found this actor after watching The Nun–he plays Frenchie. His name is Jonas Bloquet and I gotta tell you, if Loki and Fandral ever had a son, 10 out of 10 it would be this boy. That’s all. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk. 

“If you’re in the vicinity when it happens, I will,” he promised, smiling a little.

Honestly, he was just… tired. It had been a tumultuous few years, with one crisis after another, and one hard blow from a member of the royal family after the next. It was a damn mess after a series of messes. Loki was at least offering a chance for stability and rebuilding, and by all the reports that had reached his outpost from Asgard, he was living up to those promises so far. That was a damn sight better than the current alternatives. So if he wasn’t questioning the sorcerer ‘s intentions as much as was perhaps prudent, well, he didn’t feel he could be blamed for it. He’d follow up on things later, and he’d watch Loki’s progress. 

And if Loki proved to be lying, proved to be a problem, well… he’d deal with that if it happened. Besides, if Loki were up to some mischief, it would be utterly foolish to tip his hand and warn the sorcerer that he had his eye on him.

On the flip side, if Loki were being genuine, he would probably be grateful for a willing ally who wasn’t threatening to gut him if he stepped out of line and wasn’t demanding proof of his intentions. 

And if he were… well, it would be good if they could reach a point of rebuilding their past relationship. He missed that, a lot, and would dearly love to be able to call Loki a confidant and friend again. 

Loki’s words were certainly encouraging, and soothing to hear. It could have been a ploy, an application of that infamous silver tongue of his, but Fandral didn’t think so. If Loki really were trying to draw him back in for some nefarious reason, he wouldn’t be keeping him at arm’s length like he was. He’d have pretended to accept the apology and been more blatant about encouraging Fandral’s efforts. No. This felt genuine. Fandral was going to have to work for it, and Loki was at least open to the attempt. And if that was genuine, he saw little reason to disbelieve the rest of what he said.

“I appreciate hearing that,” he said quietly. “Thank you. Now… I think you should head back to Asgard. I’ll bring him along to the manor and get him taken care of. I’ll give you an hour or so to get back and get settled before I start stirring things up here.”

♔—- “Trying to get rid of me already, hmm?” he murmured with a soft chuckle, his best current stab at a lighthearted joke. There was a bit more seriousness to it, though. Running Asgard and actively working to fix things and help improve the Asgardians’ way of life was a trying exercise. The realm was in total ruin. Many things needed to be completely rebuilt. Hurting and hungry families needed to be aided and the influx of orphans… 

Loki didn’t like to linger too much on the negatives of what being king meant, but he had to deal with hurting people every single day. It was those souls that made it so difficult to actually be impartial or unfeeling towards his duties and to the home that never felt much like a home but was all he had. It should have been so easy for him to turn his back on Asgard and never look back. With the way he’d been treated there and some of the trauma he’d faced–even at the hands of his own father–leaving and never going back should have been the easiest thing in the world. What did he care if they suffered or not?

Apparently, he cared a great deal. So much so that his people suffering left a dark stain on his heart and a heavyweight on his shoulders. And what was more disturbing? He seemed to be the only member of the royal family who actually did. Thor left on his own when his people needed him the most and Odin? Gods, he was no longer fit to rule.

The physical and mental drains of his new position didn’t even hold a candle to the emotional fatigue he suffered. Loki always felt things too thoroughly. He always cared too much. He’d learned to close off his heart over the years because so many believed his tenderness to be a weakness, but he never unlearned that behavior. He wasn’t sure if he could…

And having to put on Odin’s face to get anything accomplished just sort of added salt to the wound. It fucked with him more than he first anticipated and more than he wanted to admit just how hard it was to put Odin’s face on day-in and day-out, pretend to be him, give all the credit of his love and nurture and care to someone who didn’t care… It was all too much, but he had little choice until he could reasonably have himself reappear on Asgard.

Truth be told, part of him didn’t want to return to Asgard, at least not so soon, but he’d accomplished all he wanted to accomplish with Fandral and then some. While a cup of coffee would have been nice, he supposed it was probably best to be back on his way home.

He murmured a brief farewell to the sorcerer as he disappeared, then turned his attention towards the clone he’d left behind. Interesting that Loki had confirmed he was able to see and hear what it experienced. There was a subtle warning in that confirmation too- I can see and hear what it does. I could be watching you. 

Well, fortunately Fandral had no plans or interest in betraying Loki. He’d just mind his tongue around the clone and say nothing that could be misinterpreted.

“I’d best get you somewhere more comfortable than the ground next to a grave,” he muttered. Silently, he promised himself a longer visit with Marian and Azeem next time, then knelt and gathered up the clone in his arms. The hike back to the manor was a less than pleasant one. He had to watch his feet carefully so as not to trip and spill his burden, and his route was a roundabout one. There were some human staff working here still, and he had to take a path that would keep him away from windows they might see him through. 

He took a side door, then one of the old servants’ stairways to a corridor lined with what had once been sleeping quarters for the household staff. Most of them had been converted, now used by the Aesir agents who worked out of Locksley as offices and the like. Going to one of the doors, he kicked it rather than try and resettle the clone’s weight to free a hand. 

“Hope you’re ready for your performance,” he muttered to the clone before raising his voice. “Osprey! Osprey, get out here!”

Osprey, the head of the full-time agents who operated out of Locksley Manor, stepped out of her office with a frown. “Fox, what-”

Her eyes fell on the bloody clone cradled in Fandral’s arms. She paled, eyes going wide as she recognized the figure. “Is that-”

“It is,” he confirmed. “Help me get him settled and tended. We need to send word to Asgard for a healer if we can’t get him in decent shape here.”

She nodded and quickly took him to one of the spare bedrooms, helping him get the clone onto the bed. “He’s in bad shape...”

“Considering he was officially reported dead? I’m hardly surprised.”

They spoke little for the next half-hour, getting the clone’s wound tended to as best they could. Finally, once a healing stone had been applied and they’d finished bandaging the clone’s chest, Osprey looked over at Fandral. “We can’t leave him unattended,” she said. “He’s a criminal.”

“He helped save all of reality,” Fandral retorted. “He gave his life on Svartalfheim, or nearly, anyway. And he helped save both Thor and that mortal girl he’s so fond of. It’s at least grounds for a reassessment.”

She frowned at that. “We at least need to let the Allfather know he’s alive.”

“Of course.” He gestured dismissively. “I’ll do it as soon as I get cleaned up. Stand guard if you want, or get one of the other agents. But don’t antagonize him when he wakes. Right now he’s practically half-dead, it’s not the time to treat him like a threat.”

He listened carefully as Loki spoke, taking in the offered advice. It was- nice, really, having someone else who was just as baffled by Thor’s inconsiderate actions as he was. Loki did value loyalty, and he was fairly certain that he did care about his brother. To have Loki be even a little upset and frustrated with Thor for failing his friends so badly was reassuring, and it made the advice he offered more palatable. 

And in fairness, it was good advice, and nothing he wouldn’t have heard if he’d sought the counsel of any of several other people he trusted. 

He nodded. “I’m really trying not to dwell on it,” he said quietly. “Most of the time I don’t. It’s only when I actually think about the matter that I get so angry. But you’re right, I’ll get to settle up with him at some point. And I rather intend to break his nose for him the next time I see him.”

That was a bit aggressively out of character for him, he knew, but damn, it would feel good, and at this point he was angry enough at Thor to admit it.

He made a few mental notes for plans to erode Thor’s support base and watched as Loki conjured the clone. It was eerie, seeing the young king’s double, especially when said double looked more than half dead. The scar on his chest twinged again as he looked at the clone’s wounds. How much autonomy did these clones have? How much sentience, awareness, memory? What did it think about being created half-dead to sell the a story for its creator?

Something to wonder about later.

It surprised him, though, to learn that Loki had already recruited Heimdall. He’d been under the impression that Heimdall and Loki didn’t exactly get along. 

Another something to worry about later. At least the all-seeing Gatekeeper was going to be on their side in this business.

“I stand quite assured,” he said, nodding. He hesitated, then added, “Loki… I admit I’m not certain I ever had the right to hope to work my way back into your good graces. I am sorry for the necessity of the lies I told you, and I’m sorry for how badly the choices I made hurt you. At the time, I thought I had to choose as I did. I- was wrong. I should have chosen a better way. I am glad that you understand where I was coming from, and- I am deeply grateful for the compassion you’ve shown me thus far, even while passing judgement for my acts of treason. I won’t make you regret it, you have my word on that.”

♔—- A small smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps he shouldn’t have allowed such an expression to pass when Fandral insinuated he planned to unleash at least a bit of violence upon the elder prince of Asgard once they finally met face-to-face again. Really, it should have been more alarming than anything. Fandral was deadly, it was true. He didn’t get a reputation for being one of Asgard’s best without having the skills to back that claim up, but Fandral had never been prone to violence. Unless it was absolutely necessary, Fandral didn’t hurt people, never really took pleasure in it either, and certainly didn’t like to make anyone suffer. Even when confronted with the need to kill, Fandral never dragged it out.

But there was just something about the way Fandral so calmly announced he had every intention to break Thor’s nose that was just oh-so-satisfying. It tasted almost as good as getting to say ‘I told you so’ without actually having to say it.

“Just do me a favor and let me be around to witness you punching him. I’d hate to miss that.”/ Sounds like the sight of a few centuries, at the very least.”

Fandral’s willingness to just… accept everything really did confuse him, though. While Loki did believe Fandral likely suspected he was still alive, there were so many things he could have demanded from the young king, so many answers to force from him. Yet, he seemed perfectly happy with the basics for the time being. As long as he felt Loki truly wanted what was best for Asgard, he seemed willing to given the raven-haired king his loyalty without any further prodding and it did strike Loki as… odd. That was it, really. Bizarre. Had their roles been reversed, Loki would have had a thousand questions and wouldn’t have had the willpower not to ask. 

The swordsman must have been extremely displeased with the rest of the surviving House of Odin. Rightfully so, mind, but surprising, nevertheless. Loki rarely got support from anyone without having to bend over backward to prove that he deserved it. Especially as of late.

He was even willing to accept that Heimdall had climbed on board without so much as a suspicious glance. Instead, he flung himself into an admittedly long overdue apology after watching the relatively disturbing creation of a half-dead version of the person standing in front of him. Gods, Fandral did not get enough credit for how well he handled these sorts of things.

“Thank you,” he answered. “I may not quite be prepared to forgive you, but I do appreciate the apology. I know now that you were never trying to hurt me, you were only doing what you felt you had to do. It wasn’t about me and as harsh as it sounds, I am glad you are able to see why those decisions may not have been for the best. They hurt me, yes–” Gods, they may have hurt others as well. “–but they hurt you more than anyone else.” 

He could make a few guesses at why Fandral came to the conclusions and decisions that he did, or what sort of mentalities he lived by to do the work he did, but it wasn’t Loki’s place to guess or impose his thoughts where they didn’t belong or weren’t wanted. Fandral sacrificed a lot for his career, though, so much so that he even seemed to give up the things and desires that he also longed for. Eventually, he’d burn himself out on that. Perhaps he already had?

Honestly, he was just... tired. It had been a tumultuous few years, with one crisis after another, and one hard blow from a member of the royal family after the next. It was a damn mess after a series of messes. Loki was at least offering a chance for stability and rebuilding, and by all the reports that had reached his outpost from Asgard, he was living up to those promises so far. That was a damn sight better than the current alternatives. So if he wasn’t questioning the sorcerer ‘s intentions as much as was perhaps prudent, well, he didn’t feel he could be blamed for it. He’d follow up on things later, and he’d watch Loki’s progress. 

And if Loki proved to be lying, proved to be a problem, well... he’d deal with that if it happened. Besides, if Loki were up to some mischief, it would be utterly foolish to tip his hand and warn the sorcerer that he had his eye on him.

On the flip side, if Loki were being genuine, he would probably be grateful for a willing ally who wasn’t threatening to gut him if he stepped out of line and wasn’t demanding proof of his intentions. 

And if he were... well, it would be good if they could reach a point of rebuilding their past relationship. He missed that, a lot, and would dearly love to be able to call Loki a confidant and friend again. 

Loki’s words were certainly encouraging, and soothing to hear. It could have been a ploy, an application of that infamous silver tongue of his, but Fandral didn’t think so. If Loki really were trying to draw him back in for some nefarious reason, he wouldn’t be keeping him at arm’s length like he was. He’d have pretended to accept the apology and been more blatant about encouraging Fandral’s efforts. No. This felt genuine. Fandral was going to have to work for it, and Loki was at least open to the attempt. And if that was genuine, he saw little reason to disbelieve the rest of what he said.

He nodded, rather pleased by Loki’s response. While he wouldn’t have expected the prince to know all of what was going on- it would have been incredible if he had- at least Loki acknowledged how important it was to be at least vaguely aware of goings-on outside Asgard. 

He hadn’t spent much time with Thor yet, but so far the elder prince had shown absolutely no indication he cared at all what was happening outside Asgard, unless it offered a chance for battle.

If that pattern held true, he could almost- almost- regret that Thor was the one destined for the throne and not Loki. 

Not that he would ever say such a thing, of course…

“I’m sure you know how it is,” he said. “You go to Midgard just to explore and you let yourself get caught up in goings-on. I got drafted into a company that was shipping out to Jerusalem before I quite knew what they were actually intending to do down there. But it seemed fun at the time, a chance to see more of Midgard and get in a battle or three.” He shook his head. “You know, they told the common troops that we were going to reclaim their Holy Land from the Moorish heathens for the ‘glory of God and England’, but about three days after we landed in Constantinople and started heading down towards Jerusalem, I came to suspect that we were actually there to satisfy someone’s political agenda- or political pride. The whole area’s a massive trade nexus, and I know there were people high up in both the secular and religious chains of command who wanted to control that trade. And this was the third of what they called the Crusades. I suspect by that point they were trying to keep hold of what they’d taken from the Moors for the sake of keeping face.”

Fandral’s expression twisted in a grimace. “I understand honestly going to battle over trade rights, but telling your soldiers they’re going to fight and die for a cause of glory and holy righteousness while actually going to war for some other reason is just… It leaves a sour taste in my mouth.”

Most other Aesir warriors, he knew, wouldn’t really think twice about such a situation- though they would probably have qualms about doing battle on behalf of a Church who denied the existence of ‘other gods’, they would have been more than happy to fight anyway.

Idly, he wondered what Loki would make of his admission. 

“Anyway,” he said, flicking his fingers at the surface of the water as if to drive away those uneasy thoughts. “I spent about two years with King Richard’s army- we made our way down the coast until we got to Jaffa, about two days’ march from Jerusalem, where most of my company was captured. Spent the better part of a year in a Moorish prison.”

♔—- “That’s… quite the thing to get caught up in,” Loki agreed, though he supposed he wasn’t entirely surprised. While he probably traveled off-realm on his own far more frequently than he probably should have, it wasn’t exactly an uncommon practice for Asgard to produce warriors and explorers who reached well beyond the familiarity of their homeland. Some never left Asgard, going about their day-to-day business without ever longing to see more. Others were forced to or even wanted to, as so often in Loki’s case.

It wasn’t unheard of for an Aesir warrior to get swept up in a battle that they had no real reason or place in. Just fighting for the sake of a battle was often more than enough for them. Some sought glory, others sought the adrenaline rush, and some simply couldn’t turn their backs on the idea of a fight when the opportunity presented itself. Dishonorable, or some other such nonsense.

Not to say that all Aesir were mindlessly violent or jumped straight to violence. That wasn’t the case at all, but battle was so richly engrained in their culture, it was difficult to get away from. Odd, considering his father painted himself to be a protector and a benevolent king…

Violence had never exactly been Loki’s go-to. Those who did not know him or never witnessed him on the training fields or in proper battle might have made the assumption that he simply wasn’t cut out for it. His build would certainly suggest such, but Loki faired very well in the heat of war. Even without his magic, he was a dangerous opponent, one that most would not wish to go head-to-head with, but Loki never thought of violence as a first, second, or third option. He excelled in words and diplomacy and what some called manipulation, others called negotiating. 

“There’s nothing holy about war,” Loki muttered. “Though I’ve seen such mentalities crop up time and time again, especially amongst mortals who wish to win favor in the eyes of their respected deities. There is, I suppose, a certain amount of honor to be had, but to fight a war under the false pretenses of something divine is… deplorable. Sadly, despite our best efforts, I don’t know that war will ever truly be eradicated, but if you are going to wage one, you ought to be honest with those who follow you. If you fight in one, you should know what you’re fighting for. I can’t blame you for the way it ruffled your feathers, though I find it… interesting that you care so much. Many warriors facing a similar position to you probably would not have cared.”

‘So why did you?’ 

The question basically clung to steam rising from the bathwater between them, but he didn’t actually ask. It wasn’t a point to judge him, though, but merely a point to understand why Fandral seemed to differ so vastly from the typical swordsmen he had the pleasure–or displeasure–of running into.

“No,” he said. “I’m not happy with Thor.” That was… an understatement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry with someone on both a personal and professional level. Thor had betrayed Asgard as well as his friends, and that wasn’t something Fandral took lightly. Particularly when he took into account just how much he’d given up for Thor’s sake. 

Norns, he had been so stupid. 

The idea of Thor coming back to a cold welcome was rather appealing. Perhaps this once he ought to indulge in a little petty vindictiveness. 

But that was for later.

Loki’s explanation and proposed plan sounded reasonable to him. Whether Odin would be reasonable about responsibly passing along his throne, well, that was another matter. But something to worry about later.

“I can encourage a certain amount of dissatisfaction with Thor,” Fandral said. “I have a network of agents, and most of my Gladsheim informants are still alive as far as I can tell. It wouldn’t be too hard to have a few of them publicly grumbling about Thor’s disappearance and how he abandoned his friends to the Allfather’s mercy.” He smiled wryly, already considering which of his operatives would be best for the task. He could pass word to Birgir once Loki was finished with him. 

“I don’t have any solutions for the matter of Odin right at the moment,” he continued. “But I will think on it. The more important question is when you want to start moving. We’ll need you or one of those clones of yours here for me to discover so the story holds up even with the other agents who work out of Locksley. And if I may suggest, you may want to consider recruiting Heimdall. He might be able to poke some holes in this little drama of yours you’d really rather avoid having leveled at you in public.”

♔—- “You have every right to be angry with Thor. What he’s done to you and to Asgard… It’s not forgivable.” It was the sort of thing that most would have expected of Loki long before Thor, and yet, once again, Thor proved to be the more selfish of the two. “I always thought one of Thor’s most redeeming qualities was how much he loved his friends, how much he always seemed willing to do or sacrifice for them, but somewhere along the way, that fell to the wayside. Even if he no longer wished to rule Asgard, I had a hard time imagining he would simply leave without helping his people rebuild or recover. Without speaking on your behalf, or Volstagg’s, or even Sif’s… I didn’t think Thor could surprise me anymore, but his decisions have baffled me.”

They might have made it easy for Loki to step in and take over, but that didn’t mean that Loki actually agreed with what Thor decided to do. “My relationship with him has always been complicated and it seems the older we grew, the more we clashed.” Part of them was deliberate. Odin pit them against one another behind the scenes, pulling strings that neither brother could truly see. Asgard as a whole often reflected that. “And I suppose I’ve given him plenty of reasons to doubt me, but I can’t believe he turned his back on Asgard and… on you. You’re carrying yourself well for someone who’s been hurt so thoroughly by someone you loved, but if I could offer you a little advice?

“Don’t let your anger consume you. You are completely justified in how you feel right now, but if you aren’t careful not to let it take root and fester, it’ll damage you more than you’ll realize. Don’t let Thor do that to you, he’s not worth it. You’ll get the chance to settle things with him eventually, but try not to dwell on it much in the interim. More than you have to, anyway.”

Perhaps he wasn’t the best person to be giving this sort of advice, but at the same time, Loki had suffered so greatly from allowing his anger to grow into something he couldn’t control, something that ran away from him so quickly, it just dragged him along with it. Fandral was, despite their complicated history, too good of a person to go down that road.

“That said, any help you can offer on decreasing the public opinion of my brother is more than welcomed. It’s already begun, but it’s never a bad thing to do a bit more. Asgard has finally been given proof of why Thor shouldn’t be king and they can’t forget about that the second he decided to sashay back up to Asgard.”

As he spoke, his attention turned to the grass around them, though they didn’t stray towards the graves. Instead, he held out both of his hands. Soft green in a similar shade to his eyes illuminated his fingertips and slowly, a body came together in the grass. A clone, actually, one that was a perfectly spitting image of Loki, though he looked far closer to death. It was a strange thing, looking at himself in such a state. A gaping-yet-healing hole in his chest, his flesh paled to a ghastly shade, shallowed and struggled breathing, and the color completely drained from his lips. He’d been in a state of near-death more than once, but he’d never had to look at it before now.

Eerie and unsettling, truly, something that made his skin crawl beneath the warmth of his jacket.

“This clone will stay intact for as long as we need him. He’ll slowly heal, eventually wake up, and interact with you as if I were actually here. You can tell whatever story you think would be convincing in regards to how you found him. Keep him here and care for him. Once I’m home, you can make contact with Asgard to inform us that the prince has been found but he’s in bad shape, that he’ll need to recover before he can be brought home. I’ll begin preparations on Asgard’s side for my inevitably return. I wish I had more time, but it’s already been a month since the Convergence. The longer we let this go, the more difficult it will be to believe that I’m still alive.”

And in fairness, it was good advice, and nothing he wouldn’t have heard if he’d sought the counsel of any of several other people he trusted. 

He nodded. “I’m really trying not to dwell on it,” he said quietly. “Most of the time I don’t. It’s only when I actually think about the matter that I get so angry. But you’re right, I’ll get to settle up with him at some point. And I rather intend to break his nose for him the next time I see him.”

That was a bit aggressively out of character for him, he knew, but damn, it would feel good, and at this point he was angry enough at Thor to admit it.

He made a few mental notes for plans to erode Thor’s support base and watched as Loki conjured the clone. It was eerie, seeing the young king’s double, especially when said double looked more than half dead. The scar on his chest twinged again as he looked at the clone’s wounds. How much autonomy did these clones have? How much sentience, awareness, memory? What did it think about being created half-dead to sell the a story for its creator?

Something to wonder about later.

It surprised him, though, to learn that Loki had already recruited Heimdall. He’d been under the impression that Heimdall and Loki didn’t exactly get along. 

Another something to worry about later. At least the all-seeing Gatekeeper was going to be on their side in this business.

He could see the suspicions playing out in Loki’s mind. He simply waited for them to play themselves out, and nodded at his explanation. “I do understand that,” he said gently. “I simply speak out of noticing that a lot lately has happened very quickly, while feelings have been running high. Holding them and temporarily delaying the question of what to do with them may be no bad thing. But I will abide by your decision in this matter. They will have earned whatever comes of this.”

He was glad that Loki had agreed to give his friends one last opportunity to come to their senses and not commit the treason they’d been so set on. He didn’t truly want his friends to be in trouble, even if he’d stand by the punishment Loki eventually meted out for it. 

The idea of teleporting made him grimace reflexively. Loki hadn’t been exaggerating when he described his reaction the last time. It certainly wouldn’t do for him to be nauseous or throwing up when the others arrived. So he was quite glad when Sleipnir agreed to give them a ride. He accepted Loki’s hand up and made himself comfortable in the saddle behind the young king. 

“This is very kind of you, Sleipnir,” he said. Having been given proof of the stallion’s sentience, it seemed the height of rudeness not to address him directly and politely. “Thank you.”

♔—- “It is sort of my job,” Sleipnir pointed out. “But you are welcome nevertheless. Happy to be of service.” And despite the slightly sarcastic nature of the response, he actually did sound pleased. Perhaps it was just helping his mother calm down enough to think rationally or the joy of finally revealing himself to a new person, but Sleipnir didn’t actually mind the work he’d been assigned all that much. He wished for a kinder master, sure, someone who actually respected him and what he was capable of, but there were worse things.

“There is a reason Odin prizes Sleipnir so much. He’s the best at what he does, though he’s so much more than just a horse,” Loki resentfully muttered. He didn’t really register that he’d been using Odin’s name more than the proper title of ‘father’ as of late, but it made sense, didn’t it? Odin wasn’t… his father. Did Odin even actually care for him? He certainly didn’t care for Sleipnir, only what the stallion could do for him. It felt much the same on his part as well.

A soft sigh fell from the king’s lips. While Sleipnir had long since accepted his role, Loki still despised it wholeheartedly. A gentle hand reached down to pat the side of Sleipnir’s neck, right over a detailed braid that parted his mane. It amazed the stallion, with how distraught his mother was over everything that transpired that Loki could still be so upset over something that had long since been true. Not many saw Loki’s kind heart, but Sleipnir genuinely believed that Loki’s greatest strength and also their biggest weakness was that they cared far too much about… almost everything, even things they had no power to change.

“Now’s not the time to fret over such things. The All-father isn’t even here,” Sleipnir pointed out.

Though, he supposed if Odin never woke up, Loki could change those things. Gods, Loki didn’t see it yet, but if Odin never woke up and the throne remained his, he could undo a lot of Odin’s damage, not just for their family, but for entire worlds.

Something to discuss later, though, once the current crisis was dealt with and Loki could actually sit, relax, and breathe for a bit without the world crashing down around them.

Fortunately, Sleipnir made quick work of getting them near the stables and as promised, he was both quick as he was a smooth ride. He barely jostled his riders at all. They didn’t get close enough to actually be seen by anyone readying their horses, though, and once Fandral dismounted, so did Loki. “Wait here, okay, Sleipnir? I’ll be back soon,” he instructed his son before turning to Fandral. Sharing his gaze for a moment, Loki searched for any sign of hesitancy in those azure eyes before cloaking himself with a simple invisibility spell, vanishing from sight completely.

Though he certainly could see why Odin prized Sleipnir so much. He thought his gelding Kappi had a sweet pace and excellent seat. Riding Sleipnir, even for this very short trip, was almost more like flying. He made sure to thank the big grey stallion as he dismounted before turning his attention back to business. When the young kind searched his face, he let Loki see his determination. 

“I’m sure about this,” he said firmly to the now seemingly-empty air. “You deserve better than to have people sneak around behind your back like they’re planning, even if you weren’t king. I can’t condone what they’re doing, even by silence.”

In truth, he was frustrated with Sif and the others, and even a little angry. While certainly, they’d butted heads with Loki on numerous occasions, and while Loki did have a bit of a petty streak and wasn’t always above a little creative retribution for slights, nothing he’d ever done warranted this. And that was just on the grounds of treating him as a casual friend and their friend’s little brother. Taking into consideration that he was now king, well, that just made their determination to commit treason even worse. 

Maybe he should have worked harder to speak up on Loki’s behalf in the past. He had always tried to persuade them to not be so hard on the young sorcerer, even after the two of them had grown apart. But apparently that hadn’t been enough.

Well, he was taking firmer measures now. If they were going to insist on being a lot of idiots, that was now their problem.

He nodded at the spot where Loki had been, then turned and headed down to the end of the stables where Sif and the others were saddling their mounts for the ride across the Bifrost. His own Kappi raised his elegant golden head and whickered, plainly eager to be saddled up and go out with the other horses. 

He stroked the gelding’s soft nose and mentally braced himself, looking at Sif and Hogun. Volstagg was less intent on this path- it was the lady warrior and the Vanir he had to persuade. 

He smiled, taking a moment to appreciate her. Loki was beautiful in either of her forms, but she always seemed more relaxed when she donned a female face and body. He’d never asked why, though he had a suspicion or two. 

But did the why matter more than the fact that she did have a way she could be a little more relaxed? 

Norns, but her smile could get to him every damn time.

“I just- wanted to see how you were doing,” he said quietly. “And show you I meant what I said last night.”

For someone who made her reputation on her skill with words, it was odd she set so much store by actions. Or- was it? She knew better than anyone how words could be crafted and spun to make them mean something other than what was said, so in that light, was it any wonder that she needed real actions to substantiate the words of others?

Well- he was here now. He’d told her he’d be here, and he was going to show her he meant what he’d said. 

♔—- “I know you meant what you said last night,” Loki assured him. “Though I appreciate your determination to prove it to me.” Fandral had been around long enough to know how Loki operated. She always put so much more value in actions than words because she understood better than most how influential-yet-meaningless words could be. In matters such as these–matters of trust or forgiveness–action showed so much more than words could ever say.

“Please, come and sit with me?” She motioned towards the grass she’d been previously sitting in. Rather than leave the ground bare, though, she conjured a soft blanket that spread itself out nicely across the mostly even surface of the ground. She hadn’t bothered earlier, as she was alone and hadn’t planned on spending too much time lingering, but now that she had a companion? And someone who wished to speak with her about rather important matters? They might linger longer than she anticipated.

Stepping onto the blanket, she settled herself back down and left more than enough room at her side for Fandral to join her. Only once he actually sat did she address the other reason he’d come.

“I’m doing all right, all things considered. Mostly, I’m just tired,” she confessed. “There were so many reasons I never wanted to be king, but the perpetual exhaustion definitely has to be at the top of that list. I haven’t been sleeping well. Never seem to feel like I’ve done enough to justify taking four or five hours to rest, so my body begs for sleep and my brain just keeps going. It’s all about finding balance, I suppose. I’m still getting used to my new position and so much needs to be done. It’s difficult to know what to focus on.”

He took a seat, carefully folding his long legs as he settled on the blanket. “I think, to a point, the workload is a matter of adjusting and getting enough experience to determine what you really need to dig into and what just needs a passing glance,” he said. “I know Odin was always pretty busy, but he never seemed to be completely swamped by the work. And yeah, I guess he didn’t have to deal with critical reconstruction work on Asgardian soil all that often, so there’s more work than usual. But you’ll get the hang of it. You’re damned smart, Loki. Once you figure out how to break down the tasks into manageable steps, you won’t feel quite so overwhelmed.”

He wished he could help with that, but honestly, he knew he wouldn’t be able to manage most of the kinds of tasks the King of Asgard was going to need to perform. All he was confident in was his ability to figure out the sort of person who could do the job and persuade them to do it. 

Maybe that would help. Maybe Loki needed to delegate some of this work to others.

Her admission that his visit had distracted her so much did make him smile. Alright, so there was that part of him that was smugly pleased he could so thoroughly distract someone as normally intently focused as Loki. But then his expression turned thoughtful at her question.