Chapter Text
When Fandral arrived at the wide corridor that led to Loki’s rooms, he stopped in the shadows. He did not want to be seen approaching the doors to a prince’s chambers, and he certainly did not wish to be spotted begging to be let in to see said prince as he was surely about to.
Fandral surveyed the corridor ahead, expecting to see the usual comings and goings of maids, porters, and manservants who were hard at work in these inner parts of the palace. To his surprise, the hall was quite empty, as though all the usual staff were avoiding the area. All he could see from his vantage point was a half eaten tray of food outside Loki’s door.
After a few more minutes of careful observation to ensure there truly was no one around, Fandral walked towards Loki’s chambers casually. Fandral bent to examine the half eaten food tray, worry twisting in his belly, when something caught his eye. There were flashes of green light flaring sporadically from the crack under the door, each accompanied by a hiss and a heavy thud. With a few more glances in either direction, and a deep breath to check his anxiety, Fandral knocked.
The sudden silence from within was jarring.
Fandral knocked again and said quietly, “Loki? It is I, Fandral.”
There was rustling from inside but no reply.
“Loki, please, may I come in?” Fandral asked, raising his hand to knock again. Before his knuckles could make contact, there was another whistle and then a loud thunk, the heavy wood shaking on its hinges.
Concerned, Fandral tried the door knob only to find it locked tight. He sighed, resting his hands against the door. “Loki… You do not have to speak to me if you do not wish to. I only want to check on you. I am worried… Thor said…”
His words were interrupted by another loud thunk into the wood. But then a moment later Fandral heard the clicking of the lock and the door swung open.
Fandral entered Loki’s chambers slowly, as though there might be a wild animal inside. For all he knew, Loki was in such a state that he might be acting like a wild creature. As soon as he was inside, the chamber door thudded shut behind him, startling Fandral so much that he jumped. Looking back at the door, he could see what all the banging had been.
Two of Loki’s thin knives were embedded in the back of the door, having flown wide and missed the target that was set up beside the chamber entrance. Unusually, there was little precision in the way the dozen knives were scattered all over the target. There were even some knives that had missed all together, leaving chips in the stone wall and now laying carelessly on the floor.
Fandral turned back towards the room, eyes landing on Loki’s turned back.
“What did the door ever do to deserve such treatment?” Fandral joked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. At Loki’s heavy sigh, Fandral cursed his unconscious habit of falling back on humour and charm when he was uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat and took a few cautious steps further into the disarray of Loki’s chambers. The usually fastidiously neat bed was unmade, with pillows strewn everywhere and some even spewing feathers from large tears. The normally organised work table was cluttered with overturned vials and broken glass. Books were laying all over the floor as though they had been flung from the bookshelves.
Fandral’s eyes then came to rest upon Loki, standing upon the step that led down to his sitting area near the balcony. The prince was dressed only in a rumpled dark green shirt and creased tan trousers, even his feet were bare. His shoulders were hunched, his hair tangled and unkempt.
“You have now seen that I am alright, Fandral. Is that all?” Loki said tightly, back still turned.
Fandral raised his chin, he would not let Loki push him away as it seemed he had done to everyone else in the palace. “I’m sorry, Loki, but I can usually tell when you are lying on your best days. Please do not insult me by trying to tell me that you are fine when you clearly are not.”
Loki turned to him slowly, a flash of green producing another knife which he twirled between his dexterous fingers. Fandral was taken aback as the prince fixed him with a cold, empty stare. His lips tightened and he said, “Do you not trust me, my friend?”
Fandral huffed at the blatant attempt to get a rise out of him. So he did what he always did with Loki - he decided to tell the absolute truth. “I trust you more than anyone, dear one. And I am so very sorry that I wasn’t here for you when you were hurt. But I know what you are trying to do. I only want you to know that I wish to help, and that I am here if you need to talk. Or if you need a warm embrace, or if you need someone to scream and rage at, or even if you simply want someone to sit in silence with you. I am here for whatever you need… and if all you need is more time alone then I will give you that too, even if it pains me to see you this way.”
Loki’s jaw clenched and his gaze dropped to the knife now dangling loosely from his fingers. “Did Thor tell you what happened?”
“Not entirely, he only said that your parents… uh, spoke to you after I left. About your activities recently,” Fandral said haltingly, trying to find the right words.
Loki’s mouth twisted and he spat furiously, “Father gave me a dressing down is more accurate, he scolded me like a pathetic child!” He turned and hurled his knife into one of the pillows discarded on the ground. Loki huffed bitterly and continued, “He insulted me and then played the victim when I called him out on the blatant double standards he holds between me and my perfect brother.”
Fandral shook his head, trying to keep up with Loki’s impassioned but convoluted words. “What do you mean, dearest? Loki, you must forgive me for being slow but I am afraid I don’t follow you…” Fandral took a few tentative steps towards the prince. “Can you tell me what went wrong?”
Loki huffed a bitter laugh. He turned to look at Fandral with despair and said, “All of it is wrong, Fandral.” After heaving a large melancholy sigh, Loki turned and slumped onto his bed. He grabbed a pillow and pinned it to his chest, picking at the loose feathers escaping it. “My mother summoned me, as you may recall, and she informed me that Father wanted to speak to me.” Loki trailed off. He shook his head in frustration and said, “So much has happened, perhaps it is better if I just show you rather than try to explain it.”
Fandral was about to ask what he meant by this but his question died in his throat as Loki extended a hand towards the empty space of the sitting area and green lights began to dance in the air. Loki’s fingers weaved a complicated pattern until the lights started to coalesce into shapes, and then solidify even further until the king and queen of Asgard were sitting before them. Or at least, two very accurate illusions of them. The only thing that gave them away was the green tinge that clung to their edges, and the fact that they were sitting on nothing but air.
Moments later, an illusion of Thor and Loki came striding into the sitting room.
“Good afternoon, my sons,” said the Allfather. “Please, have a seat, both of you. We have much to discuss.”
The projections of Thor and Loki sat down on invisible chairs opposite their parents. There was a moment of silence and Fandral noticed Loki’s eyes narrow. The prince’s projection straightened in his seat from the carefully constructed sprawl to become stiffly perched on the edge of his invisible chair.
“Is something wrong?” Loki’s illusion asked.
“There is nothing wrong, my dear,” Frigga started, looking sideways at her husband. “It is only…”
“We must talk about recent events,” Odin interrupted. “And your conduct throughout them.”
Illusion Loki raised an eyebrow, mouth twisting at the corners. “I see. Do you refer to ‘our’ conduct, as in Thor and I both, or specifically my conduct?”
Frigga looked down at her hands and Thor shifted in his seat. There was a moment of tense silence as Loki met his father’s gaze defiantly.
Odin’s lips pursed. “You are perceptive as always, Loki,” the Allfather replied tightly. “I am concerned about the way you have been acting out recently with escalating acts of rebellion and disruption…”
“Acting out?” Loki cut in, anger lacing the illusion’s words. Fandral could see the flinty look in his eye, but he knew the anger was covering his hurt. “What exactly are you referring to, father? What actions in particular have offended you?”
Odin exhaled through his nose, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. “If you would like a list I can provide it to you…”
“My love, please,” Frigga whispered to the king, concern written on her fair features.
Odin continued bullishly, “But your juvenile pranks are becoming renowned throughout the palace. The power you have been gifted with has become famous, not for healing the sick or for deeds of valour, but rather trivial antics and parlour tricks designed to cause as much chaos as possible to those around you! And their escalating nature leads me to believe that your attention seeking behaviour needs addressing.”
The illusion of Loki clenched his jaw, his hands turning to fists where they rested on his thighs. “‘Attention seeking’... is that what you think I’m doing?” Loki asked, his tone cold.
“I cannot think what else you could possibly be hoping to achieve with such conduct, except perhaps to embarrass me and the rest of your family,” Odin said. “After all, you seemed to desire that while the delegation from Alfheim were here, with your sullen attitude and dismissive treatment of Lady Beyla.”
“Father, if I may,” Thor interjected, casting a sideways look at his brother, who was quickly going from merely angry to absolutely furious. “Loki spent all week with Lady Beyla, and it seemed they were getting on quite well…”
“We did get on quite well. But I did not want to court her, and she did not want that, either! We agreed to part ways amicably,” Loki said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the fury on his face.
“Did you even make an effort to get to know her?” Odin asked, his eyebrow raised. “Did you ever entertain the idea of a romantic attachment to her? From what I could see, you had no intention of doing either of those things!”
“You told me to escort her and be civil” Loki ground out, leaning forwards on an invisible table. “I followed your instructions to the letter. But we both agreed that we did not want to court each other! I do not know what more I could have done!”
Odin also leaned forwards on the table, bracing his hands on the invisible surface. “You could have attempted to get more involved in the festivities, like your brother. He was at least making an effort to show our guests a good time during their stay…”
“By singing bawdy tavern songs from table tops and having belching competitions while completely drunk out of his mind?” Loki interrupted loudly, cheeks flushed with anger. “How is that not humiliating to our family and the entire court?”
“Loki, that’s hardly fair,” Thor said, reaching out to place a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Loki shrugged off Thor’s touch and spat, “You can’t even remember half of the so-called ‘diplomatic’ engagements you went to! And yet I am the one at fault?”
“Enough!” Odin cried. “I shall put up with this childish behaviour no longer…”
“If I am acting like a child, it is only because I am being treated as one!” Loki interrupted. The illusion of the young prince was practically shaking with anger. Anger, Fandral knew, that was his protection to stop himself from breaking down with hurt. “I know that you are the one to send Thor to check up on me. And how you force me away from my studies to go on ridiculous patrols or participate in pointless training exercises…”
Odin pressed his palms into the invisible table, and interrupted through gritted teeth, “I am trying to look out for you Loki, to train you to protect yourself and defend your people.”
“If you stopped interrupting my studies in magic, maybe I would be able to protect our people better,” Loki retaliated, eyes blazing.
“Magic is not all there is, Loki!” Odin roared, slamming his fist into the invisible table. “And if you continue to use your powers to cause chaos in the palace, then I will have no choice but to discontinue your training in sorcery!”
There was an awful silence. The colour of passion drained from Loki’s cheeks, and he swallowed thickly. Even Thor and Frigga looked stunned.
“Odin, surely you do not mean that,” the queen said to her husband quietly.
The Allfather held up a hand and the queen fell silent, sorrow in her eyes.
“You can’t,” Loki whispered, voice shaking and lips trembling.
Odin breathed in a fortifying breath and said in a tone that brooked no argument, “I am your king and your father. I will do what is best for you.”
“What you have decided is best for me,” Loki hissed, eyes shining with moisture
“That is enough!” Odin said firmly, leaning back in his chair. “Your studies will continue, but if I see you using your power for any more trickster nonsense then your magical education will cease. Have I made myself clear?”
The illusion of Loki was breathing heavily, but he said nothing. There was a moment of silence, where nobody moved. Then the prince stood up and stormed out, before the illusion faded in a cascade of green sparks.
Fandral turned back to the real flesh and blood Loki, who was still curled up on his bed clutching a ruined pillow. He gazed at the space where the illusion had been, looking as though he had deflated, and any righteous anger or aloof mask he was holding onto had leaked away, leaving only exhaustion and despair.
Fandral approached the end of the bed and perched gingerly on the soft mattress. “I am so sorry, Loki.”
The prince only sighed and averted his red rimmed eyes. He looked utterly despondent. Fandral felt so lost, he didn’t know if there was anything he could say to make the situation better. He had one idea, he just hoped Loki wouldn’t be angry with him.
“Can I ask you a question?” Fandral began uncertainly. All he received in answer was a minute bob of the prince’s head, so he took a fortifying breath and decided to proceed. He shuffled closer to Loki along the edge of the bed, and asked softly, “Why do you play your tricks on people?”
Loki’s head shot up, and he stared at Fandral wide eyed.
Fandral pushed on, “I know things have been trying recently, and that your antics have been more elaborate than ever… but you have always made mischief, as long as I’ve known you at least. What is the reason?”
“Why does that matter?” Loki ground out, fingers clawing at the mangled pillow in his grasp.
“Because your father merely assumed why you acted as you did,” Fandral replied, glad that he was not being yelled at or dismissed immediately. “I would like to hear your side of the story. I think your motivations matter a great deal to you, but no one has bothered to ask about them.”
Loki regarded him defiantly, mouth pinched into a tight line. Fandral did not avert his gaze, he simply waited patiently, hoping that Loki would open up. He felt like he was holding his breath, the weight of the moment seemed to press in on him. For some reason, Fandral knew in his heart that this question was extremely important, and Loki’s reaction would define how their relationship would proceed.
After a minute of silence, Loki took a shaky breath. “I am taking them all down a notch,” the prince replied softly, his deep voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Everyone in this palace, in this court… They are so caught up in their own petty charades - to be the best or the most beautiful or the strongest - that they cannot see how ridiculous they all are. They put on airs and graces every moment of the day, including my own family… and yet everyone calls me the deceiver, the god of mischief, the prince of lies…”
Fandral swallowed against the lump in his throat. His heart was breaking for the prince. Clearly his troubles had been manifesting for some time, and Fandral could hardly believe he hadn’t addressed them sooner. “I understand that,” Fandral began.
“Do you?” Loki challenged, discarding the wreck of a pillow he had been clutching. Loki sniffed and then exhaled crossly, as though angry at his running nose and the moisture in his eyes. “Because I’m not sure I do. For my father to threaten to take magic out of my life… while Thor and Mother said nothing. I thought she would stand up for me. She knows me better than Father ever could and yet… she lets him make these assumptions about my actions and judge me for my conduct, while Thor gets free reign to get away with whatever he wants with little more than a cuff about the ears.”
Fandral’s own eyes felt as though they were burning, but he tried to blink away the threat of tears. He wanted to be strong for Loki and support him, not add to his pain by getting upset himself. He couldn’t think of anything to say to make Loki feel better. What could he say? The whole ordeal that Loki had endured was horrible, and it all stemmed from needless misunderstandings and miscommunication. Fandral was even more sure now that he would only ever tell Loki the truth and try to listen to him with compassion. It seemed like few others were willing to do the same.
“It is so unfair, dear heart,” Fandral murmured. It was all he could think to say that conveyed his feelings, and it was also the absolute truth.
The prince looked up at Fandral, as if only then realising how close they were now sitting. A single tear rolled down Loki’s cheek and he grasped at Fandral’s hand. “How can you stand it, Fandral?” he whispered. “You have told me yourself many times that you use your reputation as a facade, a mask to fit in. How do you tolerate the assumptions, the double standards, the judgement…”
Loki sniffed again, this time wiping angrily at the wetness on his face. “No matter what I do, Odin has already decided who I am and what I am capable of. Don’t things like that make you angry? All the playacting we are forced to do - and I don’t just mean keeping our relationship a secret, I mean keeping our true selves hidden to become more palatable for the people who think we are too different… Those are the people who hold all the power over us, the ones that set the standards for the ways one should behave. How can you remain so calm?”
Fandral huffed a sad laugh, “If I seem calm then I am clearly a better actor then I thought. I am furious, Loki. I am angry about how the palace sees people like us when others do not even bat an eye outside of Asgard’s city walls. I am angry at the way people treat you, the way they take you for granted and misunderstand you. I am angry because I cannot be who I really am in front of the people I care about.”
He took a deep breath, looking away from Loki’s raw expression. Fandral cleared his throat and continued, “Why do you think I volunteered for that dull assignment to escort the priestesses? I had to get away from the palace. And it worries me so much that you cannot escape… I am so sorry that I was not here for you while you went through all this alone.”
“It is not your fault, Fandral,” Loki said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Fandral’s hand. “I understand why you went, and I do not blame you for it.”
Fandral breathed out a sigh, he was relieved that Loki did not blame him for not being there. But he wasn’t sure he could completely forgive himself yet either. They sat in silence for a few moments, their hands clasped. Fandral took comfort in the firm grip Loki had on his hand and the warmth he could feel from the prince’s leg where their knees touched.
“You are the only person I’ve ever known who understands,” Loki said. “Though I suppose our situations are not quite the same. At least people like you, Fandral. Most people rarely even pretend to like me - but it is worse than that… They fear me. As well as despising me, people are frightened of me. Even my own father.”
“That’s not true, Loki,” Fandral protested, but Loki was already shaking his head.
“It is true,” the prince said, despondent.
Fandral had never seen him so defeated. Loki looked so tired now that his anger was gone. He was pale and drawn, as though all the colour had leached out of him, leaving only a shadow of his true vibrant self behind. Before Fandral could think of something comforting to say, Loki continued speaking.
“Did I ever tell you that my father didn’t want me to learn to use magic?” He said quietly, not meeting Fandral’s eyes. “He put me into warrior training with Thor when I was old enough, but even when my magical abilities presented he kept saying I wasn’t ready to study magic. I suppose he thought I wasn’t strong enough to learn about my powers. After all, I was never as physically strong as the other boys, not as athletic as Thor - I suppose he thought the same would be true with my magic. But I tried so hard because I wanted my father to let me learn about this power that I could feel inside me. It was only after my injury and sickness that my mother convinced him to let me learn from her. He only allowed it because he saw that I was too weak to keep up with the other boys without magic to aid me.”
“Loki, no, I’m sure that’s not the reason,” Fandral said. “In fact, if your father cannot see how strong you truly are, he has a very narrow definition of strength. For some reason he simply doesn’t understand you. Not like I do.”
Loki smiled at Fandral, but there was a brittleness to the smile and a sadness in his eyes. “You’re right, I don’t think anyone understands me like you do.”
Fandral could bear the hurt on Loki’s face no longer, so he asked, “May I hold you Loki?”
The prince hesitated for a moment, but then shuffled over on the bed to make room for Fandral beside him. Fandral turned to sit next to Loki and put his arms around him, bringing the prince’s head to rest against his shoulder. Fandral pressed a kiss to Loki’s hair.
“I’m so very sorry, dear one,” Fandral said softly, smoothing out Loki’s tangled locks. “I’m sorry that people have made you feel so wretched, particularly people close to you.”
“There is more, if you want to hear it,” Loki replied, voice hoarse.
Fandral squeezed his eyes shut, how could there possibly be more? But of course he wanted to hear what Loki had to say. It was a privilege to have the prince opening up to him, no matter how much it broke Fandral’s heart.
“I do, only if you are ready to tell me.”
“I believe there was something else that happened that day,” Loki began slowly. He swallowed and snaked an arm around Fandral’s waist before continuing. “The day of the accident I mean, there was something unusual about how sick I became after the fall. But I don’t remember anything about it, and no one has ever told me what really happened. But I know something changed that day when I was a boy. My father never quite looked at me the same again… Sometimes I think - it seems as though he fears me. And now he pits me against Thor time and again, but no matter what I do I can never measure up…”
“Listen to me, Loki,” Fandral said, squeezing Loki even tighter against him. “What others believe does not matter. It may hurt us to be judged by them, of course it hurts, but what is truly important is what you know is inside yourself. And I know that there is so much love and goodness in you. Why else would you care so much what others think if you did not feel things so deeply? You have so much capacity to care, and people have taken that for granted. It is easy to get hurt when you feel things so intently. But you see the truth of those around you, and I know that can be a difficult burden to bear.”
Loki was silent for a minute, before he raised his head from Fandral’s shoulder to look up at him. There was a ghost of a genuine smile on Loki’s face as he said, “Are you sure we are still talking about me, Fandral? That sounds like a description of you, my friend.”
Fandral chuckled, pleased to see even the smallest smile back on Loki’s face. “Perhaps that is why we work so well together, my sweet,” he said, dropping a kiss to Loki’s forehead.
Loki pressed a gentle kiss to Fandral’s jaw, before laying his head back down on Fandral’s shoulder. He sighed deeply, and said, “How do we do it, then?”
“Do what?” Fandral replied, confused.
“How do we live without letting what others think of us rule our lives?” Loki asked.
Fandral breathed in deeply. What a question that was. “I am afraid I have not yet figured that out, Loki,” Fandral said, rubbing Loki’s shoulder. “But perhaps we can navigate it together.”
“That is not the answer I wanted to hear,” Loki grumbled, turning his face into Fandral’s neck.
Fandral smiled thinly as Loki breathed short puffs of breath into his neck. “I know,” he said. “But I am afraid I cannot lie to you. Would you rather I had?”
Loki sighed deeply and squeezed Fandral’s waist. “No. I think you are the only one who does not lie. Not to me anyway. I may have a reputation for deception, but that doesn’t mean it is all that I am. You know that better than anyone ever has or will.”
“And I am honoured that you have allowed me to,” Fandral murmured into Loki’s raven hair.
He felt Loki’s smile against his neck as he continued to hold the prince tightly. They stayed curled together on Loki’s bed until Fadnral heard Loki’s breathing even out into the steady rhythm of sleep. He shuffled them both down on the bed and tried his best to reach for a blanket to cover them without jostling the prince. Fandral’s arm may have been going numb, and there were feathers up his nose from the destroyed pillows, but he knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.