Chapter Text
Over the following days, Fandral sought out Loki in all their usual places. First it was the library where Loki cast a glamour over them so they could kiss amongst the shadows of the library stacks. Then in the healers’ stores where Loki often pilfers his magic supplies, and then a late night sojourn to the queen’s gardens. Days of clandestine meetings and stolen kisses quickly turned into weeks, and before Fandral knew it an entire month had passed during which he and Loki had been seeing each other as often as they could.
Unfortunately, throughout this time Fandral had been pestered and teased by his friends about his ‘mysterious raven-haired maiden’. Every time he made an excuse to leave, usually either to see Loki or simply to have some time alone, his friends grinned and playfully taunted him about his lady love. He knew they meant well and there was no malicious intent behind their teasing but after weeks of enduring their torment, Fandral’s patience was running thin.
It was not so much their teasing that irked him, but rather that they were so wrong about who he was courting. Every mention of ‘the maiden’ or the ‘mysterious lady’ made Fandral itch to scream the truth at them - that there was no ‘lady’, but rather a beautiful prince. He hated how it felt like he was hiding Loki away when all he wanted to do was proclaim to the world that he was lucky enough to be courting the reclusive prince.
It was worse when Loki was present, as Fandral could clearly see how much their suggestive comments and inquiries for salacious details upset him. Fandral wasn’t sure whether Loki disliked the way the warriors were talking about him, even though they weren’t really talking about him, or whether it was some strange sense of guilt about not providing any salacious details for Fandral to recount - as they had not moved beyond chaste kisses and innocent touches. Perhaps it was both?
Whatever the case, Fandral was unable to glean a clear answer from Loki whenever he brought it up. He frequently apologised for the way his friends were acting but Loki often just shrugged it off and changed the subject. If Fandral tried to ask Loki exactly what was bothering him, whether he did so subtly or blatantly, Loki dodged the question with a distracting kiss or a sarcastic remark.
On top of this, the consequences of Loki’s increased irritation with the warriors began to present through escalating acts of mischief and trickery. It started rather small with Loki’s surreptitious eyerolls becoming so large and blatant that Fandral thought he was going to strain something, which was rather harmless in the scheme of things. Then people’s belongings began scaring them with loud noises whenever they were touched or moving from place to place at random. This, too, was relatively harmless.
But after two weeks of increasingly elaborate tricks, Loki acted out so spectacularly that Sif ended up with half a shaved head. If Fandral hadn’t intervened between the two, he was sure Sif would have separated Loki from his manhood out of vengeance. In the end, Sif’s hair had been regrown and Loki’s manhood was only bruised rather than severed (for which Fandral was extremely grateful), but the tension between Loki, Fandral, and his warrior friends was a lingering presence.
It was therefore somewhat of a blessing when the opportunity arose for Fandral to take on a relatively solitary assignment to escape the tension of the palace. It was a simple escort mission to assist a group of young priestesses on their way to Nornheim to study with the great sorceresses of the realm. When the Aesir captain asked for volunteers for the mission, Fandral leapt at the opportunity.
There were no other volunteers, likely because the assignment promised to be relatively dull compared to the patrols and hunting parties that were more enticing to the eager warriors. Instead, Hogun was chosen to aid Fandral in leading the mission and to command the half a dozen young guards who were also assigned to the escort. Fandral didn’t mind sharing the assignment with Hogun, as he was the least likely of his friends to probe him further about his mysterious lover.
As he was preparing his saddlebags to leave the next day, Fandral heard someone enter the stables behind him. He turned to address whoever had entered only to find himself at a complete loss for words.
A beautiful woman was draped seductively against the door frame, looking at him with dark blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. She had long black hair, pale skin, and lips painted with gold that curled into an alluring smirk. The lady was dressed in a green skirt that had a high slit up the left side and a gold corset cinching her waist. She regarded her gold painted nails and crossed her ankles, which were clad in tall high heeled boots.
“Do you think this is what the others picture when you describe your raven-haired maiden?” she said in a low velvety voice.
Fandral tried to drag some air back into his lungs at the sight of Loki clad in such a way, for he knew at once even before she had spoken that the woman in front of him was indeed Loki. Only Loki’s eyes could contain such mischief, and only Loki could smile at him so seductively and yet so warmly. Fandral knew Loki’s form could change often, but it was usually to imitate a particular person or creature. This form seemed like all the feminine parts of Loki’s character manifested into a physical body. She was quintessentially Loki, and Fandral was captivated.
“Indeed, something like that perhaps,” Fandral breathed in response to Loki’s coy question. “You are beautiful in any form, my darling.”
Loki smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she chuckled, “Flattery will always get you far with one such as I.” Loki pushed away from the door frame and swayed her hips as she stalked towards Fandral.
She was taller than Fandral with the high boots on; he felt a thrill when Loki moved into his space and he had to lean his head back to look at her. Loki placed her fingertips under Fandral’s chin and gently tilted his head so that their lips could touch softly.
Fandral brushed the back of his knuckles against Loki’s soft cheek, allowing his other hand to snake around her corseted waist. After touching his lips to Loki’s once more he pulled back to look fondly into those familiar blue eyes, which were now dusted with gold shimmering makeup.
“Flattery only applies when the words are empty and insincere, dearest.” Fandral said, tucking a lock of hair behind Loki’s ear. “My words, on the other hand, are only the plainest truth.”
Loki’s seductive and mischievous smile morphed into something smaller and more genuine. She leaned back in to kiss Fandral tenderly. He enjoyed the feel of Loki’s soft feminine lips on his, until suddenly there was a hum of magic in the air. Loki’s jaw sharpened under his fingers and the lips moving against Fandral’s became larger and more masculine, though they didn’t lose their softness nor their sweet taste.
When Fandral pulled back and opened his eyes, Loki was once again in his preferred male shape. He smiled and said, “Good answer…”
Fandral was still loosely bracketed in Loki’s arms, pressed between the prince and the bench at his back. Loki was still slightly taller than Fandral as he had chosen to remain wearing his high heeled boots with a new ensemble of black trousers, long green tunic, and cinched leather jerkin trimmed with gold. He was just as captivating in Fandral’s eyes.
He circled his arms loosely around Loki’s waist and asked softly, “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing back here? Are you getting ready to go for a ride? Because I would argue against riding or walking very far in those shoes…”
Loki smirked, turning to lean a hip against the bench with an arm resting gently behind Fandral’s back, “You’re just saying that because you don’t know how to wear them properly.”
“Quite right, I alway thought shoes like that were more torture devices than footwear,” Fandral replied, eyeing the tall shoes with suspicion. “Why would you want to walk in them?”
“Because they make the wearer look and feel powerful,” Loki said with a deliberately nonchalant shrug. “Do I not deserve things that make me look and feel good?” Before Fandral could answer Loki continued, “Besides, it’s not as if my father would let me stray far on my own lately. It seems that the more I sneak away the more determined my father is to stop me, or at least burden me with Thor as a chaperone…”
“Well you did nearly get yourself permanently maimed last week by Lady Sif, so I feel like their concern may be stemming from a place of pre-emptive action,” Fandral joked, attempting to lighten the mood - the conversation could easily turn gloomy whenever Loki mentioned his overbearing father and brother.
Loki’s mouth twisted, his expression turning sour, “Is that why you are escaping the palace on this escort mission? Preemptive action to get away from it all?”
“News travels remarkably fast it seems,” Fandral said. Loki only responded with a noncommittal hum so Fandral continued, “I was going to tell you after I had packed my supplies here. It is only for one night, and to be honest I felt the need to get away from the talk of my fellow warriors.”
Loki rubbed the small of Fandral’s back sympathetically, although the expression on his face was distant. “At least you are able to get away,” he said quietly.
“If I could take you with me on this mission, I would,” Fandral said, resting a hand on Loki’s chest tenderly. “Perhaps you could ask your father…?”
The prince scoffed, his arm tightening around Fnadral’s waist unconsciously. He regarded his boots and said bitterly, “He would only deny me, and I won’t grant him the satisfaction of doing so. Besides, he would think your mission was either beneath the station of a prince or that I would only find a way to disobey him again and ruin all his plans…”
When Loki trailed off, he dropped his head onto Fandral’s shoulder and sighed heavily. Fandral tilted his head to rest against Loki’s.
“Is that what has been bothering you lately?” Fandral asked tentatively. “Is your father giving you a hard time after everything that happened with Beyla?”
“One of many things that irks me recently,” Loki replied, his words muffled against Fandral’s shirt.
Fandral glanced towards the door to make sure there was no one around to observe them, before dropping a brief kiss to Loki’s hair. “If you told me about your troubles, maybe I could help?” he said, voice hushed as though trying not to spook a wild animal.
“I don’t want to talk about things like that when I see you,” Loki sighed, raising his head to look Fandral in the eye. “I want to allow myself to forget my problems when I’m with you.”
Fandral caught Loki’s free hand and brought it to his lips, “I am all for helping you forget, but I want you to know that you can confide in me, dearest. I will be here for you, whatever you need.”
Loki smiled and tightened his grip around Fandral’s waist so that they were wrapped in a tight, one armed embrace. Loki nodded to acknowledge Fandral’s words but didn’t say anything more.
“I will only be gone for one night,” Fandral said, squeezing Loki’s hand. “Please try not to get yourself maimed by our friends while I’m away.”
“Well they should stop being so insufferable and then I wouldn’t be forced into drastic action,” Loki shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Fandral chuckled, “I won’t be here to protect your manhood if you provoke Sif any further.”
“And I suppose you have a vested interest in my manhood, hmm?” Loki crooned with a raised eyebrow.
Fandral swallowed, trying to keep his mind only occupied with Loki’s face and not any other part of him. He shook himself slightly and said sincerely, “Only if you wish it, my dearest.”
“Hmm,” Loki considered Fandral, head tilted to one side, before his mouth lifted into an honest smile. “Another good answer.”
Fandral was sure he was looking at Loki with a thoroughly besotted expression until he was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of boots on the flagstones outside. After exchanging a look, Loki gave Fandral’s waist one last squeeze before stepping back to a more appropriate distance with a rueful smile. Fandral pressed a commiserating kiss to the back of Loki’s hand before letting the prince go.
He turned back to his saddle bags just as the footfalls approached the door.
“Loki!” Thor exclaimed, peering through the entrance to the small tack room. “And Fandral! I hope you are not planning to mess with our friend’s expedition preparations, brother.”
Loki raised his eyes to the ceiling, as though praying to some entity for patience, before turning to his brother and smiling tightly, “And why would I do such a thing? Fandral is always courteous to me and is therefore undeserving of any mischief.”
“And I certainly hope it will stay that way!” Fandral replied, winking to Loki before turning to fully face Thor. “What brings you down here my friend?”
“I was searching for Loki,” Thor declared, missing the pointed look Loki exchanged with Fandral. “I have been looking all over, one might even suggest you were avoiding me!”
Loki hummed and said dryly, “Perish the thought…”
Fandral coughed and scratched at his beard to hide his smile. Loki smirked at the shared joke and crossed his ankles, once again regarding his painted nails as Thor continued speaking.
“I have come to tell you that our mother is looking for you,” Thor said, only to trail off upon noticing Loki’s boots. His brow furrowed in confusion, “What are you wearing?”
Fandral saw Loki’s shoulders tense, almost like a hound raising their hackles in preparation for a fight. “My new boots,” Loki answered defiantly. He lifted a leg to show off the tall heels and continued, “What say you?”
The corners of Thor’s mouth turned downwards in a confused frown as he evaluated Loki’s shoes, “I say they look very uncomfortable…”
“I have been reliably informed that comfort is not their purpose, my friend,” Fandral offered jovially, trying to head off any disagreement between the brothers before it could start. “As I understand it they are designed for style before anything else.”
Thor considered this for a moment, brow furrowed, before he shrugged, “I cannot say I understand why you would subject your feet to such discomfort, but you wear them very well Loki!”
Loki blinked in surprise, taken aback by Thor’s easy acceptance of his unusual footwear. The younger prince seemed to deflate slightly as the fight he had been expecting did not seem forthcoming. “Thank you,” Loki said, clearing his throat. “I suppose I should go and see what mother thinks of them.”
He stalked towards the door as Thor waved to Fandral, “I wish you well on your mission tomorrow, Fandral! I may not have a chance to see you before you depart so I hope all goes smoothly for you and Hogun.”
“Thank you, Thor! Farewell,” said Fandral as Thor disappeared into the stables.
Loki paused at the doorway and turned back to Fandral with a smile, “Until next time, Fandral.”
Fandral bowed and blew a tiny kiss, “Good day, my prince.”
He enjoyed watching Loki’s skin flush as the prince departed, before turning back to his saddle bags with a grin on his face. Fandral replayed the sight of Loki in that tight corset over in his mind as he finished packing, humming to himself jauntily as he worked.