Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fandral had a reputation. It wasn’t one of his own creation (mostly) but folk assumed that all his flirting with the maidens of the realm meant that he had vast pool of experience with the fairer sex. And, to be fair, this was true to some extent but nowhere near to the degree that his reputation proposed. He didn’t bother to correct this though. In fact, Fandral rather liked the tales of his exploits and started adding to them himself until he was infamous.

Fandral the Dashing, a master swordsman and brother in arms to prince Thor, with a woman on each arm (and sometimes more than one on each arm). But Fandral had a secret… something he could never reveal to the other warriors, and especially not to Thor.

Perhaps his secret was the real reason that he had crafted his reputation so carefully – to keep others from suspecting the truth. And the truth was that Fandral was no longer chasing young maidens, for he had found someone so captivating that his gaze never lingered on a fair lady any longer. There was only one whom he had eyes for, but he could never allow the truth to come out, lest it bring ruin upon them both…

When Fandral was a young man and relatively new to the court of Asgard, he had been a squire to one of Odin’s warriors. It was customary for families to allow sons, and sometimes daughters, who wished to become warriors to apprentice under an experienced member of the Aesir army. This also provided the added benefits of being close to the palace and the influential people living there, as well as the prospect of joining Odin’s Aesir warriors. Those families who sent their sons to the palace lived with the hope that their child might catch the eye of an influential court figure or a great warrior to elevate the status of the child, and by extension the family. Fandral’s family had been overjoyed when he impressed the young prince Thor with his duelling skills one day on the training fields. Having been singled out by the crown prince, Fandral was invited to spend his time off with Thor and his close friends, which was how he met Sif, Volstagg, and Hogun.

Even as a young squire and a warrior in training, Fandral had been one of the most handsome young men in Asgard’s court and many young maidens were already trying to catch his eye. Fandral enjoyed the attention even then, though he very rarely acted on these flirtations. He preferred instead to devote his time to his training and studies, despite his flirtatious attitude with the young ladies. It seemed to him that none of them were particularly interesting. In the end they were all the same; they laughed at the right jokes, sighed and fanned themselves when he said something witty, and more often than not they agreed with his every word.

But none of them had anything interesting to say. They spoke about gossip, and who won the latest tournament, or what some courtier or other had been wearing at the feast the night before. Or they wanted to hear about daring escapades, swordfights, and chivalry. Despite Fandral’s love of swordplay, Fandral also loved other things like art, music, poetry, and even the natural sciences. While many of the young ladies were impressed by his knowledge of romantic poetry, they could hardly comment on it in any meaningful way aside from the aforementioned sighing, fanning, and laughing, and he lost interest in their company very quickly. Added to this, Thor and his friends considered the arts and his love of them boring, and Fandral learned early on to keep his interest in such things to himself lest he be mocked mercilessly.

Fandral's time with Thor and his friends largely consisted of mock sword fights, careening around the hunting grounds on their horses chasing game, competing in tourneys, and every other kind of rambunctious activity that was available to them. Thor and the others enjoyed these daring displays of strength, courage, and fortitude more than their compulsory studies and training (or at least Thor preferred such things and his friends had to go along with what the crown prince said).

Hogun was slightly more devoted to his studies than the others, but Fandral had discovered that any attempt at conversation about such things would soon be halted by Thor’s heavy-handed enthusiasm for showing off his strength and athletic prowess. Fandral didn’t mind so much, his cheerful disposition and competitive nature meant that he was always included in Thor’s adventures. It was during one of these adventures, however, that Fandral first encountered the most intriguing person he had ever met.

Thor had decided to set a challenge for group; whoever could pick an apple from the highest branch of one of the palace orchard trees would have to be the one to take the fall for the group the next time they got in trouble for one of their disruptive deeds. The group had eagerly taken up the bet and hurried to the orchard. As they were searching for the highest tree they could find, Fandral spotted a figure sitting in the shade of one of the ancient apple trees.

The figure’s face was covered by silky raven-black hair where they were hunched over a large tome, and Fandral was captivated in an instant. Not only was the person interesting due to the volume they were devouring, but also their lithe willowy frame and the way their delicate fingers danced gracefully across the book’s pages was enchanting. Fandral stopped his search for a suitable tree to climb and started to move towards the figure. He wanted to say something to alert the other of his presence, but Fandral didn’t want to disturb their reading. He was unsure how to proceed but was interrupted from his contemplation when Thor clapped a hand to his shoulder roughly.

“Ah! What have we here, Fandral?”

At Thor’s loud words, the figure looked up from their book and pushed the hair that had fallen over their face behind an ear. It was then that Fandral realised that the figure, who at first he had thought might be a young girl, was actually a young boy with delicate features and inquisitive blue eyes.

“It seems you have found my little brother, Loki!” Thor continued jauntily. “What are you doing hiding over there, brother? Surely there can’t be anything in that book as exciting as what we’re about to do!”

The young boy’s eyes narrowed slightly at these words, but his lips drew into a thin smile. The boy, who Fandral now realised was the elusive second prince of Asgard, closed his book deliberately and spoke in a soft yet articulate drawl.

“And what, exactly, are you up to? Surely you’re not trying to steal father’s eight-legged steed again? I remember how well that hair-brained scheme went…”

Thor laughed heartily as Hogun, Sif, and Volstagg joined them, “Not today, brother! We have a little bet going. Whosoever can retrieve an apple from the highest branch wins!”

The young dark-haired prince raised a delicate eyebrow, “Indeed? And what happens to the losers?”

“Whoever loses must take responsibility for the next act that lands us in trouble at the palace!” Volstagg chimed in heartily.

Loki hummed thoughtfully, “How thrilling.”

With that wry comment, he turned his attention back to his book. Fandral felt his mouth drop open slightly. No one ever spoke to Thor like that. Ever. And if they did, they got a hiding for their trouble. Fandral expected Thor to be angry but instead he just laughed again.

“Come, Loki! Join us in this challenge! Or do you fear that you have no chance at winning?”

Loki looked up from his book again, and this time Fandral definitely saw a glint of… something in the boy’s eyes. Then that thin smile crept back onto his face as he closed his book once more and got to his feet gracefully.

“Well then, lead the way brother,” Loki said, tucking his book under his arm.

Thor and Volstagg cheered loudly and ran off to find the perfect tree, dragging Sif and Hogun behind them. Fandral waited for Loki to draw nearer and then bowed, his fist clasped to his heart in a royal salute.

“Uh, well met my prince,” Fandral said, finding himself far more tongue tied than he ever did around even the most beautiful young maiden. “We have not officially been introduced; I am Fandral.”

Loki’s calculating blue eyes swept over Fandral. Later, Fandral realised that the young Loki was looking for signs that Fandral was mocking him as had happened with others. But at the time, Fandral was unsure what to make of the prince’s cool stare. Fandral smiled, giving what he hoped was his friendliest expression.
Eventually, Loki tilted his head to the side as if coming to a decision and nodded to Fandral, “I have heard of you, my brother has been singing your praises for the last month. I also hear that you already have a nickname amongst Thor’s friends; Fandral the Dashing.”

Fandral chuckled awkwardly, “Well, such titles are more often adopted in jest. They call Hogun ‘the Grim’ because it makes him scowl more, thus earning him that amusing moniker!”

Loki hummed but made no further comment as they kept walking slowly after the others. Fandral cleared his throat and thought of what he could say to entice the young prince into conversation.

“I’m sorry if we disturbed you from your studies. Thor is hard to argue with when he gets an idea in his head, though I’m sure you’re aware of that” Fandral said. When he got no reply from Loki apart from another non-committal hum, he continued, “Um… What book were you reading?”

Loki stopped walking and looked Fandral over, once again raising an impertinent eyebrow, “Are you truly interested in my studies or are you simply seeking material with which to mock me?”

Fandral spluttered for a moment, taken aback by the harsh words, “My prince, I would never dream of such a thing. I know Thor… um, well he has no patience for knowledge and study… but I would not have asked if I did not truly wish to know.”

“Well, since I do not know you from any number of Thor’s other fleeting acquaintances, I am not inclined to indulge your curiosity,” Loki drawled, before waving a hand over his book.

Fandral couldn’t help his gasp when the tome disappeared. When he looked back to Loki’s face, he found the prince’s eyes narrowed as though assessing Fandral’s reaction. He quickly closed his mouth so as not to appear like a simpleton unfamiliar with magic. Fandral was not afraid of magic, but he was certainly surprised to see the prince using it. Many people characterised magic as a womanly practice as it was often used for healing and crafting, as well as the less flattering associations with deceit and cowardice.

Fandral liked to believe that he was above such simplistic views but clearly his instinctive reaction had already spoken volumes to Loki, whose eyes hardened at Fandral’s gasp.
Fandral shifted his weight slightly, embarrassed by his reaction, “My apologies. I hope I have not offended you. I was only surprised, not… anything else.”

Loki hummed again, this time it had a clear tone of disbelief within it.

Fandral squared his shoulders, resolved to take a different approach to the conversation. He wasn’t going to give up on one of the most interesting people he had met since arriving at court.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I saw the title of the book you were reading,” Fandral said, pushing on despite the furrowing of the younger man’s brow. “I did not mean to intrude but I noticed that it was a copy of that classic tale told by the Midgardians, the Odyssey. They may be a primitive realm, but their arts can have merit.”

Fandral had hoped that talking about the poetry Loki had been reading would encourage him to talk, but the wariness in the prince’s eyes was stronger than before.

“And what would you know about it?” Loki asked coldly.

“If I may say so, my prince, I preferred the Iliad to the Odyssey,” Fandral continued, a small blossom of hope in his chest that he had found someone with a shared interest. “Odysseus takes far too long to return home after the war, especially as he knew his wife was waiting for him. While he was out dallying with nymphs and storytellers his wife was suffering and his household had gone to ruin!”

Loki stopped walking, the coldness in his eyes now replaced with the fire of passion, “At least Odysseus is not a petulant spoiled child like Achilles or Paris. Their insolence and foolishness got many people killed. Odysseus uses his wits to outmatch his opponents and actually thinks with his head rather than his muscles or... other areas.”

Fandral chuckled, pleasantly surprised by Loki’s fiery response, “I will admit, the characters can be frustrating. But I believe that is what makes them seem real. We all have our faults, even gods and mythical heroes.”

Loki looked astonished, first at Fandral’s laughter and then even more so at his commentary on the characters. Loki chucked wryly, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“I had no idea that any of Thor’s friends knew how to read poetry, let alone have an original thought about it,” said Loki haughtily.

Fandral laughed again. Oh yes, he could tell that conversing with Loki would never be dull and was delighted that he had finally made the young prince’s acquaintance.

“Well, I am glad I have exceeded your expectations, no matter how low they may have been,” Fandral replied with a small bow.

Loki gave him another small half smile. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted, however, as Sif called back to them.

“Come along, both of you! Thor has found a suitable tree for the challenge.”

Fandral swept an arm towards the direction of the tree gallantly, “After you, my prince.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Loki nodded his head in acknowledgement and moved towards the others. He took a few paces before stopping and looking at Fandral over his shoulder.

“You can call me Loki,” he said with an almost imperceptible smile.

Fandral was sure he would have missed it had he not been studying the younger man’s face intently. The soft look was soon replaced by the cool haughty expression from before, but Fandral considered his first conversation with the most interesting person in the palace a success.

Chapter Text

Fandral was surprised to realise how disappointed he was that Sif had interrupted his conversation with Loki, and he vowed that he would find other opportunities to continue talking with Loki without the others around to interrupt. The two of them soon caught up with Thor and the others beside the largest tree in the apple grove. As the orchard was thousands of years old (and the trees had been cultivated with magic) the tallest branches were at least two storeys high.

Volstagg, who was well on his way to being rotund despite his youth, went first and only managed to get a few feet off the ground before plucking a handful of apples and sliding back down the tree, perfectly content to munch on his spoils even if he lost the challenge. Hogun went next and got about halfway up the tree before losing his grip and deciding enough was enough. It was then Fandral’s turn but he only got slightly further than Hogun before making the mistake of looking down. He felt slightly nauseous at the height and decided to quickly shimmy back down to the safety of the ground.

Sif beat his distance only by a few branches before running out of puff also. Thor of course reached almost to the top of the tree before picking his apple and leaping nimbly back down. After a triumphant speech, in which Thor loudly asserted that none would best him, Loki merely smiled mischievously at his brother before directing their attention to the highest apple right at the top of the tree. Thor scoffed at his brother, and Fandral noticed a cold glare come over Loki’s face.

Fandral could not conceal his astonishment as Loki transformed himself into a large dragonfly and soared up to the highest apple. He was so high up that the group lost sight of him, and all they could see was the apple shaking as he loosened it from its branch. Suddenly, the apple fell from the tree and Loki reappeared beside Fandral to calmly catch the apple that had dropped. Fandral laughed heartily and applauded Loki’s ingenuity, but the twist of Thor’s lip at being shown up in front of his friends was impossible to miss.

Loki pointedly took a bite from his apple and turned to walk away. Fandral tried to call out his congratulations to the young prince to prevent him from leaving so soon. Loki paused momentarily but did not turn around as he continued to walk back to the palace. At the disruption of his genius challenge, Thor stated that the use of magic was against the rules and declared that he had won anyway. Fandral wanted to go after Loki but was not about to argue with Thor when he called for his friends to follow him into another escapade.

**
The assumption that Loki had made in the orchard about Fandral simply being another fleeting acquaintance of Thor’s was proven incorrect as time passed. Fandral learned that many people fell out of favour with the eldest prince very quickly, but Fandral’s charm and wit seemed to earn him a permanent place amongst Thor’s inner circle of closest friends.

A royal hunt was called a few weeks after the events in the apple orchard, and Fandral leapt at the opportunity to see Loki again, as he hadn’t set eyes on the elusive prince since that day. Loki was obligated to attend the hunt, even though Fandral was quite certain he had little interest in the raucous charge of horses through the game forests. As the hunting party was getting ready in the courtyard, Fandral sought out Loki amongst the hubbub of hounds, horses, pages, and warriors. After manoeuvring his horse through the chaos, Fandral found him sitting petulantly on a handsome chestnut mare at the back of the hunting party and watching the enthusiastic preparations with barely concealed disdain.

Fandral could not resist teasing Loki about his sour expression and noticed the surprise on the prince’s face at being sought out. Fandral asked to ride beside Loki for the duration of the hunt and assumed that Loki’s dour silence was as much of an invitation as he could expect. As the hunt set off, the two of them hung back at the rear of the hunting party and followed along on their horses slowly. After some gentle needling from Fandral, they continued their conversation about Midgardian poetry and Fandral savoured every small lopsided smile that graced Loki’s face and revelled in the passion in Loki’s voice as they enthusiastically discussed literature, art, and the young prince’s magic studies.

From that point on, during Fandral’s spare time he would excuse himself from Thor and the other warriors to try and find Loki in one of the places Fandral discovered that the prince could usually be found; the large palace library, the grounds, or one of the more secluded palace balconies. At first, Loki’s expression would always betray his surprise at being sought out when Fandral would find him in a quiet corner and gallantly bow in greeting. But, as time passed, Loki’s face stopped showing surprise at Fandral’s presence and he began to smile more when the older warrior appeared. Eventually, Fandral noticed that some of the cold mistrust that he first saw in Loki’s eyes was fading to be slowly replaced by warmth.

Of course, Thor and the warriors noticed that Fandral would occasionally excuse himself when they had free time and were planning to spend it together. Due to his penchant for flirtation and the dalliances Fandral had with members of both sexes, the group would assume that he was excusing himself to rendezvous with his latest paramour. Fandral realised that this was the perfect cover to sneak away and not be disturbed. On some occasions he was indeed slipping away to meet up with his latest beau, but more often than not Fandral would cheekily smile and wink at the assumptions and seek out Loki instead.

When he did meet up with Loki, they would talk about all kinds of topics or sometimes they wouldn’t talk at all, instead content to sit and read together in companionable silence.

On one such occasion, many months after their first meeting, Fandral found Loki beside one of the small fountains in the palace grounds taking notes from a large tome.

“Greetings, my prince,” Fandral said with a bow, as was his custom when hailing Loki. He liked the way it made Loki smile.

Sure enough, Loki looked up from his notes and granted Fandral a small smile. If it had been anyone other than himself, Fandral was sure nothing more than a cold glare and a haughty sniff would greet the interloper.

“Hello, Fandral,” Loki replied, eyes returning almost immediately to his notes.

Fandral figured this was as much of an invitation as he was likely to get so he sat down beside Loki silently. At first, Fandral was happy to sit quietly and enjoy the sound of the water from the fountain, but eventually he grew curious and peered over Loki’s shoulder to see what he was reading. It was some kind of treatise on spellcasting and featured many complicated diagrams that Fandral could make neither head nor tails of.

Fandral wondered how Loki had discovered his interest in magic, but he was hesitant to ask. After these many moons of spending time together, not once had Loki volunteered any information about himself beyond his general interests and his studies. Fandral had tried offering information about himself in the hopes that Loki would reciprocate, but so far he hadn’t had much luck. Perhaps a more direct approach was in order.

“So, when did you first find your interest in magic?” Fandral asked. When Loki looked up from his tome with a guarded look in his eyes, Fandral continued, “Forgive my curiosity, Loki. If you do not mind me saying, I admire your devotion to the mystical arts and would like to know more.”

Loki dropped his eyes back to his notes, “I began learning when I was a child.”

Fandral waited for Loki to elaborate further but could barely conceal his sigh of disappointment when it became clear that the prince was not going to elaborate any further. After a few moments of silence, Loki cleared his throat.

“My mother taught me,” he said quietly, still not lifting his eyes.

Fandral couldn’t help the grin that came over his face at this tiny morsel of information, “Indeed? Well, that makes sense. I hear the queen’s powers are very great.”

This time Loki looked up from his book, but still refused to meet Fandral’s eye as he nodded, “Hmm. She used to do spells for me when I was small. Just little things to entertain me… but I knew that I wanted to learn, and weave magic the way she does.”

“I’m sure she was pleased to have an attentive student such as yourself,” Fandral replied, trying not to say the wrong thing in case Loki closed himself off again.

Loki smiled and hummed again. They fell back into silence again for a moment, and Fandral noted that Loki seemed to be debating with himself about something. Eventually, Loki turned to face Fandral.

“This was the first spell she taught me,” he said softly. Loki held up his hand and Fandral gasped as tiny colourful fireworks erupted from the prince’s palm.

Fandral laughed with joy as he watched the fireworks explode, their colourful lights reflecting dazzlingly on the surface of the water. At first Loki looked surprised by Fandral’s reaction, but then he started chuckling quietly too and Fandral was determined to hear that sound more often from the prince.

“They’re beautiful Loki!” Fandral exclaimed. “Truly wonderful!”

Loki let his hand drop and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “It’s quite simple, but effective.”

Fandral clapped a hand to Loki’s shoulder, “I’m sure your mother is very proud of your sorcery!”

Loki nodded, dropping his eyes back to his book, “I hope so.”

He said these words so softly that Fandral almost missed them. There was such vulnerability in those three words that Fandral was not sure what to say in response. Instead, he simply squeezed Loki’s shoulder reassuringly. He was glad that Loki had finally opened up to him about something, even if it seemed like only a small thing. Fandral was sure that Loki had told very few people about his mother’s fireworks, and he was determined to continue to earn the elusive prince’s trust.

Chapter Text

Fandral and Loki continued to spend plenty of time together when they could. It was difficult for Fandral to get time away from his training, and of course the studies that he undertook were very different from Loki’s so they rarely ran into each other. Eventually, however, after nearly a year of secret friendship, Fandral began to notice that Loki would occasionally end up in the path of Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three and be dragged along by his older brother. At first, Fandral was sure these occasions were merely coincidence like that fist day in the orchard, but before long Loki was regularly being invited to spend time them.

Fandral liked to think that perhaps he was the reason Loki had deigned to spend more time with them, but he couldn’t be sure what the young prince’s motives were. Fandral thought it might be too impertinent a question to ask, for if he was wrong the assumption sounded self-centred even in Fandral’s head. When he did join them, Loki reverted to his aloof exterior and often played tricks on the others. The fact that Fandral managed to avoid his mischief, such as getting one’s hair cut off while they slept (as had happened to Sif) or been scared by unexpected shapeshifting (like Thor), made him believe that there must be some reason he avoided being the victim of Loki’s schemes.

He longed to ask Loki why he started spending more time with Thor and the others when clearly there was no love lost between the trickster and those who ran afoul of his mischief. Thor would always forgive his younger brother and laugh off any hijinks that Loki engineered, but the others were rarely so forgiving. Due to Thor’s overprotective nature, however, there was little they could do about it, although Fandral often noticed the suspicious and sometimes hostile looks that the warriors would shoot at Loki. Fandral was sure Loki noticed them too, but somehow these reactions only seemed to make the trickster relish his mischief even more. Fandral hoped that one day an appropriate time would arise where he could question the young prince about his motives without causing any offence.

It was on a sunny afternoon that Fandral was presented with just such an opportunity. He had the afternoon off and excused himself from the others to go and find Loki. He had searched high and low in all of Loki’s regular hiding places around the palace, but Fandral could not find the young prince anywhere. He though he would take one more look around the palace grounds to make sure, but Fandral resigned himself to the fact that it didn’t seem like he was going to be able to find Loki.

As Fandral was heading back to the palace, he passed a trellis that he never really paid much attention to. It was covered in beautiful yellow roses, but his eyes slid over the trellis just like they always did. He was about to move on and forget all about the rose-covered trellis when he heard something that caught his attention. Fandral stopped and turned around, straining his ears to make sense of the sound.

It was singing.

Fandral realised that it was coming from somewhere nearby, but when he looked around the deserted corner of the grounds there was no one in sight. The voice was too low to be a maiden, but the timbre was rich and velvety… almost familiar to Fandral.

He looked around again more carefully to try and pinpoint the direction of the voice when his eyes once again found the trellis with yellow roses. Fandral scratched his beard thoughtfully as he contemplated the trellis more closely. He was sure he had seen it before, but the more he looked at it the more he wanted to look away and forget about it. It was only the sound of the singing that kept his focus, as it sounded like it was coming from behind the trellis.

As Fandral moved closer to investigate, the roses began to shimmer as though he was looking at them through the haze of a hot summer day. Fandral squinted and reached out a hand to inspect the hazy mirage. He was astonished when his hand went straight through the flowers, and he could feel the smoothness of a gate behind the illusion. Fandral pushed the gate and leaned his head through the concealed opening. The sight that greeted him made his jaw drop in awe.

Behind the hidden gate was a walled garden. The walls themselves were covered with wisteria, jasmine, ivy, and the yellow climbing roses that concealed the entrance. On one wall was a carved stone dragon’s head with an open mouth, out of which clear spring water was bubbling. The water dropped into a carved basin and cascaded down through a series of water beds which snaked their way through the garden’s soft green lawn. A large willow tree reached its weeping limbs over the stream and swayed softly in the breeze. On the other side of the stream was a maple tree under which sat a carved oak bench.

It was then that Fandral found the source of the singing. Loki was sitting on the bench under the maple with a sketchbook and charcoal in his lap. His voice was soft and untrained, but Fandral thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

As he sang, Loki’s eyes were glued to his sketch.

“I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene
Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem
I eplehagen står møyen den vene
Og synger "når kommer du hjem?”

Fandral was enraptured by the soft melody but realised he should probably announce himself lest he startle the prince. He stepped further into the garden and shut the gate behind him, intending to clear his throat or attract Loki’s attention somehow.

In that moment, Loki looked up from his sketch to reference whatever he was drawing and spotted Fandral in the entrance. The young prince gasped in surprise and stood up abruptly, spilling his drawing equipment over the grass.

“Fandral!” Loki cried harshly, “How did you get in here?”

Out of instinct Fandral dropped to one knee and clasped his fist over his chest as he bowed his head, averting his gaze respectfully, “A thousand apologies, my prince! I didn’t mean to sneak up on you or startle you… I beg your forgiveness for trespassing, your highness. I should not have entered unannounced; I don’t know what I was thinking…”

“Calm yourself, Fandral,” Loki interrupted, his tone slightly gentler than before. Fandral looked up to gaze at the prince, who looked torn between wanting to flee and something else that Fandral couldn’t quite discern.

After a moment of hesitation, Loki brushed some charcoal from his hands and crossed the grass. When he reached Fandral he paused again before offering his hand to help Fandral to his feet. Fandral sighed in relief as he took Loki’s hand and stood up. He had thought Loki would banish him from the garden or rage at him for interrupting such a private moment.

Fandral stepped back and gave Loki a charming smile, “I can’t recall ever hearing that song performed in such a manner. It was "Jeg Saler Min Ganger", was it not? I thought that was a drinking song to be sung loudly and raucously in a tavern! But you sang it so softly… and sadly. I hope it is not too forward of me to say… it was beautiful.”

Loki shifted his weight and cleared his throat awkwardly. As he ran a hand through his dark hair, Fandral noticed a slight tinge of pink creeping up the prince’s pale neck.

Fandral’s dazzling smile softened somewhat without him even realising, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or embarrass you, but I had to investigate such sweet singing.”

Loki smiled shyly as he rubbed at the charcoal on his hands, “My mother sings it that way. I’ve always liked it better like that.”

“Well, now so do I,” Fandral replied.

There was a moment of silence as Fandral waited for Loki to say something else, perhaps chastise him for barging in but when it became clear Loki wasn’t going to say anything more Fandral turned his attention to the garden.

“This place is incredible, Loki! I had no idea it was here! It was as though my eyes kept wanting to slide off to the side and not notice it.”

“That’s part of the glamour on the door,” Loki explained, seemingly glad that they had started talking about something he was more familiar with. “It’s enchanted to not attract attention so that the entrance can stay concealed.”

Fandral turned in a slow circle to take in the garden once more, “Amazing! It’s so beautiful.”

Loki nodded and began to make his way back to the bench, “Yes, it’s quite something. This is actually the queen’s private garden.”

At Loki’s words, Fandral realised what a grave error he had made, “The queen’s garden?! I did not mean to intrude in her space, how disrespectful of me… I shall leave immediately.”

Fandral turned back to the gate hurriedly but stopped at Loki’s voice.

“No!” he cried, prompting Fandral turn back and regard the prince curiously. Loki cleared his throat and continued more quietly, “I mean, um, it’s alright. She allows me to make use of it. As long as you tell no one of its existence I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Fandral hesitated for a moment but then Loki smiled at him softly. It was one of the smiles that Fandral had never seen him bestow on anyone else, and it made Fandral smile in response.

“Very well, if you’re sure she won’t mind and so long as you are agreeable, may I stay?”

Loki nodded and resumed his walk back to the bench whereupon he crouched down to retrieve the scattered drawing implements. Fandral hurried over to help him.

“I hope nothing is ruined after taking such a tumble,” Fandral said as he picked up the sketchbook and carefully brushed a few stray leaves off it. As Loki retrieved his charcoal and turned to deposit them on the bench, Fandral turned the book the right way up and looked at the drawing.

The sketch depicted a delicate black and white image of the willow tree across the stream. It was rendered with such detail and care that Fandral was almost speechless, and he was very rarely speechless.

Loki turned back around and took the sketchbook from him, scrutinising the image carefully, “It looks fine to me. I don’t think anything was smudged…”

“It looks more than fine! Loki, this is very impressive work!”

Loki’s pleased smile made Fandral’s heart skip a beat and he noticed that pink flush creeping up the prince’s neck again. Oh dear, Fandral thought to himself, if I’m not careful this boy will capture my heart in a way no one else has. That can’t happen, by the gods, he’s a prince!

“Thank you, Fandral. I value your opinion very much… more than most,” Loki said, his voiced hushed and slightly shy.

Oh, I’m in trouble already, Fandral thought as his heart clenched with delight at the thought that Loki valued his input so highly. He had realised from the moment he had first laid eyes on Loki that he was attracted to him, both for the prince’s alluring fey looks and his intelligence, but Fandral was not one to stay infatuated for long. He bestowed his affection strongly but often fleetingly, rarely finding a deep attachment that went beyond a whirlwind dalliance. His romances burned brightly for a short time before sputtering out eventually. Fandral had thought his fascination with Loki would be no different but, after all this time of seeking the prince out and never loosing interest in their conversations, Fandral was starting to realise that it may already be too late. His attachment to Loki had burrowed deep into his heart without him even realising and it seemed like his affections were only strengthening.

Fandral cleared his throat and shook himself out of his thoughts, “I am honoured that you think of my opinions so highly! I certainly appreciate fine art, though I’m no good at drawing myself. I can play the lute and sing a little, but my skills with charcoal or paint are certainly limited!”

“A careful eye and astute appreciation make up for lack of ability when it comes to art. But my tutor says that anyone can learn to draw, if only they have the will to practice and an eye for beauty,” Loki replied, settling himself back down on the bench with his sketch in his lap. “And anyway, perhaps you could use what talents you do have in other ways. You could… well, if you wanted… you could model for me, and I could sketch you.”

Fandral felt heat in his own cheeks this time, which was ridiculous! Fandral the Dashing did not blush! It seemed, however, that Loki was able to bring out a side of himself that he had never known.

Fandral smiled charmingly, hoping to make up for his absurd blush, “I like the sound of that very much! Just tell me when and I shall be there. And I shall have to get my lute out so that you can accompany my playing!”

Loki smiled in his typical lopsided fashion and regarded Fandral with an appraising eye, “Perhaps.”

Fandral chuckled at this coy answer but decided to change the topic, as it seemed they were dangerously close to flirtation. This was a perfect opportunity to ask Loki what he had been wondering about his appearances with his brother and the warriors. Perhaps if he made light of it, he would get an answer.

“I have noticed something strange, Loki,” Fandral said with a light, teasing tone. “When I first made your acquaintance, I hardly ever saw you while I was in the company of Thor and Sif and the others. Now, however, I have observed that you seem to appear where and when I least expect to find you! I should like an explanation as to why you keep getting dragged along on Thor’s outlandish adventures! Perhaps there is someone you wish to spend more time with? Someone whose company is worth you condescending to put up with your brother?”

Loki’s smile faded and he averted his gaze back out to the garden. Fandral noticed that his lips were pursed and the prince’s jaw was clenching. He berated himself for such a clumsy attempt a levity. It seemed that all of Fandral’s regular charm simply vanished when around Loki and he always reacted the exact opposite to what he was expecting. If he was being honest, that was why Fandral liked him so much.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Fandral backtracked gently. “I did not mean to imply… What I mean is… I was only trying to tease you, Loki. It seems I went about it the wrong way.”

The word ‘friend’ seemed to snap Loki’s attention back to Fandral. The wide-eyed shock on his face made Fandral think that he had committed an even graver misstep, “Are you alright, Loki? I hope I haven’t offended you…”

Loki blinked owlishly a few times before shaking his head slightly, a hint of a smile finding its way back to his lips, “No, not at all. I suppose I am unused to such… friendly teasing. When I am teased by my brother and his friends it is usually more than simply a light-hearted jest. I often detect judgement or bitterness behind their quips.”

Fandral was unsurprised to hear that Loki noticed the occasional disdainful looks thrown his way by many of Thor’s companions but he was determined to make the prince aware that he didn’t agree with those who looked at Loki with suspicion or contempt.

“Well, you shall never detect such things from me,” Fandral asserted. “I respect you far too much for that. And besides, we are friends, are we not! If I had a concern, I would say so to your face and not hide behind scornful barbs.”

Loki’s smile grew slightly at this, though there was still a guarded expression to his countenance, “I appreciate that. In truth… there have never been many people in my life whom I could call friends. Mostly the people I spent time with as a child were always Thor’s friends and I was simply dragged along with him. I’m sure I was only included out of some sense of brotherly duty, nothing more. As I got older, I realised that I was always treated as secondary to Thor’s greatness, and I grew tired of it… Eventually I discovered that my time was better spent dedicating myself to my magic.”

Fandral was unsure how to respond, but he decided that fewer quips and more honesty was in order, “It saddens me greatly to think that you have never had a true friend. Even I met you through an acquaintance with your brother… but I would have you know that I do not see you as such. You are not second to Thor in my eyes, and I am not ashamed to call you a friend.”

Loki looked away again, but this time he was still smiling. He nodded as though in thanks at Fandral’s declaration of friendship but did not move to say anything further.
Fandral decided to fill the silence, “If you feel this way about being swept up by Thor and included with his friends, why do you seem to be allowing it to happen again?”

Loki shook his hair out of his face, “I would call you a friend also, not simply one of Thor’s who tolerates me.” He then sniffed haughtily and looked down his nose at Fandral with a lopsided smile, “Besides, I have discovered that you are not terrible company, and you make Thor and his ridiculous friends more bearable.”

Fandral laughed heartily at Loki’s wit, largely to cover up the fact that his traitorous heart skipped another beat at being called a friend in return, “Haha! Come now, Loki, they are not all that way! Hogun and Volstagg are not as bad as some, and Sif is certainly too serious to be considered ridiculous!”

Loki chuckled along with Fandral as they began to compare who among Thor’s large group of acquaintances was the most ridiculous, his sketchbook forgotten beside him on the bench. As their criticisms became more outlandish, Loki’s smile grew wider until he was grinning and laughing almost as heartily as Fandral. It was a fine look on him, Fandral thought, and he was determined to make Loki grin like that more often.

As they laughed over one of Thor’s friends who Loki pointed out had a head that was too small for his overly muscled body, making him look like some kind of overstuffed tortoise, there was a sound from the entrance to the garden. They both looked towards the gate to find it being pushed open. Through the haze of the glamour appeared a tall, elegant woman in a rich silver and blue gown. Half of her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders in luscious waves while the other half was piled on top of her head in a series of complicated braids.

Loki got to his feet quickly, eyes wide, “Mother!”

Fandral’s felt his eyes widening also at the shock of the queen’s appearance. He was frozen for a moment until he realised how rude he was being. He quickly dropped to one knee just as he had when he first entered the garden, with his head bowed and fist clasped over his heart.

“Your majesty!” Fandral gasped in surprise.

Queen Frigga chuckled richly, “I did not mean to disturb your merriment, my son! I heard laughter from behind the gate and thought I should check to see who was in my garden. Who is this, Loki?”

Loki clasped his hands behind his back and straightened slightly in the presence of his mother, “Uh, mother this is Fandral. He is one of the young warriors in training, an acquaintance of Thor. And… he is my friend.”

When Loki informed his mother that they were friends, Fandral looked up at the queen to gauge her reaction. From what Loki had said, it seemed unlikely that the younger prince had introduced many friends to his mother. Fandral’s assumption was proven correct as Frigga raised her eyebrows slightly.

“Indeed?” Frigga replied, surprise evident in her voice.

“Forgive my intrusion into your garden, my queen!” Fandral said earnestly. “Loki said that you would not mind if he shared it with me… I promise to not breath a word of its existence to anyone.”

Frigga smiled enigmatically and gestured for Fandral to rise, “Fear not, Fandral. If Loki has deemed you trustworthy to share in this garden then I trust his judgement. It is nice to meet you.”

Fandral rose to his feet, “It is an honour to meet you, your majesty! I hope I did not startle you with my presence.”

“I admit I was surprised to hear two voices coming from behind the gate,” Frigga said, her knowing smile making Loki blush under her gaze. “But it was a pleasant surprise to be sure. I shall not keep you any longer and let you get back to your fun.”

Frigga gave her son a look which, to Fandral at least, seemed to imply that they would be having a conversation later about Loki’s surprise friend. Fandral bowed again as she left before turning to look at Loki, who had a slight grimace on his face as though he had interpreted Frigga’s meaningful glance the same way.

Suddenly, Fandral thought the whole situation was quite absurd and before he knew it, he was chuckling at the bizarre encounter he had just had with the queen of Asgard. Loki looked at him as though he had lost his mind, which only served to make Fandral laugh harder.

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Fandral gasped in between laughing. He clutched at his side, trying to calm down.

When he looked back at Loki, he could see mirth creeping back onto the prince’s face and soon enough Loki was chuckling along with him.

Chapter Text

The next time Fandral saw Loki after they had been discovered in Frigga’s garden, neither of them mentioned the incident. Loki’s slight blush was the only indication that perhaps he had spoken to his mother about the whole thing, which made Fandral very pleased for some unknown reason.

Although in truth, the reason Fandral enjoyed Loki’s blushes was not so unknown to him, but he knew it was dangerous to think about the prince in such a way. For one, if Thor ever found out that Fandral had eyes for his little brother, Fandral was certain that he would be dragged from the castle and tossed out on his ear in a flash. And the idea of never seeing Loki again was so unbearable that it served as a reminder to Fandral to never let his gaze linger too long.

Even with his efforts to keep his eyes from straying towards Loki, Fandral noticed as they got older and the years slipped by that Loki was starting to fill out more. He would never be as muscular as Thor, but Fandral noticed that Loki had grown in the years that they had been friends. He had lost some of the youthful roundness to his face and he had matured into his tall, thin body. Where his figure had been slight, Loki was beginning to appear stronger and broader his shoulders while still maintaining his lithe and lean frame.

Being nearly 200 years older than the young prince, Fandral had not physically changed so much in the years of their friendship, but he noticed that his feelings towards Loki certainly had. The very fact that he noticed these subtle changes in the prince told Fandral just how much Loki truly meant to him regardless of the dangers associated with being attracted to a prince.

Despite their growing friendship, or perhaps in spite of it, Fandral continued to flirt with the ladies of the court as the years passed, and sometimes a few of the squires as well. Occasionally he would even make a show of his flirtations in front of the other warriors to reinforce his reputation as a dashing charmer, though Fandral was unsure whether it was the others or himself that he was trying to convince. And if Fandral noticed the clenching of Loki’s jaw when he paraded around with his latest beau, well, he was sure it was nothing more than Loki’s regular condescension for the antics of the warriors. Or at least he tried to persuade himself that this was the case.

Regardless of the cool exterior that Loki showed when around the other warriors, the prince and Fandral continued to meet up whenever they could. They passed the time in a myriad of different ways. Sometimes Loki would show Fandral whatever new spells he was learning, or Fandral would bring his lute so that he could play while Loki drew or made notes from his books. Occasionally Fandral would even cajole Loki into sparring with him, although their fights would usually devolve into playful wrestling matches or even tickling after Loki found out that Fandral was extremely ticklish.

More often than not, however, they would simply sit and talk for hours. It became somewhat of a tradition for them to compare who amongst Thor’s warrior friends was acting the most ridiculous that week which often resulted in bouts of raucous laughter, each trying to outdo the other with their outlandish impersonations or insults. Sometimes Loki would even boast about his most successful pranks that he had pulled, and although Fandral tried to denounce Loki’s actions he usually ended up giggling along with the prince as he described his antics proudly.

There was also an unspoken agreement between them that there would be no discussion of Fandral’s latest conquest when they met up by themselves. It was almost as if their time together was some kind of private bubble reserved for just the two of them, and while they acted differently with Thor and the other warriors, they could simply be themselves for a while.

As the seasons turned and the years passed, Fandral and the other warriors continued their training with the Aesir army until eventually they began to be sent out on patrols with the older soldiers. Loki hardly ever trained with Thor and the young warriors, but Fandral knew that the prince must be getting trained by someone, as Loki was very skilled when they sparred together in secret. Fandral even suspected that Frigga was the one in charge of his fight training, as Loki fought with the deadly grace of a dancer when he wielded both his magic and blades with concentrated precision.

It was unusual, therefore, to find Loki assigned to one of their routine training patrol missions to Vanaheim. As Fandral was leading his horse from the stables, he spotted the younger prince adjusting the saddle of his horse while pointedly ignoring the curious and dismissive stares of the other warriors. Fandral smiled and led his horse over to Loki.

“Greetings, my prince!” Fandral said cheerfully.

Loki looked over his shoulder at Fandral and gave him what most people would call a derisive sneer, but Fandral could see the happy glint in Loki’s eyes and the cheeky edge to his smile that Fandral was sure only he could detect. He was also fairly sure that he was the only person who received such secret signals from the prince, which only made Fandral smile wider as Loki laconically replied.

“Greetings, Fandral.”

“I did not expect to see you here, Loki,” Fandral continued as he strapped his rapier to his saddle. “Has your father finally kicked you out of his library?”

To outside ears, this kind of taunt might seem sarcastic and even mocking, but Loki knew that Fandral’s teasing was never cruel, and he could detect the mirth in Fandral’s voice. Despite the laughter in Loki’s eyes, the prince hummed grouchily at the mention of his father.

“He thinks it’s time that I join Thor on these patrols,” Loki grumbled as he swung himself gracefully up into the saddle.

Fandral moved to Loki’s side to double check that the prince’s saddle was secure, and he spoke quietly, “Well, I am glad of your company, my friend.”

Loki hummed again, “I’m sure you are.”

Fandral smiled at Loki’s teasing, but his fingers suddenly couldn’t find the buckle hole where he was tightening the girth. Fandral looked away from Loki’s playful eyes and focused on the task at hand with a chuckle, laughing off the banter which had come dangerously close to flirting. After securing the prince’s saddle, Fandral moved back to his own horse and mounted up as the rest of the patrol was preparing to leave.

They rode down the rainbow bridge and through the Bifrost portal that transported them to Vanaheim. The patrol was small and included Thor, the Warriors Three, Loki, and Lady Sif, as well as four older warriors who were supervising them. Once landing on Vanaheim in a green meadow, the patrol moved into formation and onto their usual route through the nearby forest. The Aesir occasionally patrolled areas of the Nine Realms to ensure that the long reigning peace between the worlds was kept, focusing their attention on vulnerable places such as important trade routes, borders, and outlying settlements.

That day the patrol was following one of the trade routes that went from a group of outlying farms into one of Vanaheim’s main cities. It was late in the trade season, which often meant that the roads were not as busy as they were in the height of spring and summer. With fewer travellers on the road, it was easier for brigands to hijack caravans of important supplies which were gathered in preparation for winter. If the last-minute stocks of food were lost, the winter would be that much harder for Vanaheim’s citizens.

The patrol was fairly routine, and they only came across a few wagons of goods, but the workers accompanying them seemed bolstered by the presence of the Aesir. Eventually, they took a turn around a sweeping bend to find a wagon stopped in the middle of the road. The leader of the patrol, a grizzled warrior named Vali, held up his fist to halt the party.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before them before turning slightly to Thor, who rode at his side, “What say you, Prince Thor? Does this situation before us require a particular strategy?”

Thor scratched his beard as he leant forward in the saddle to get a better view, “Those people have been halted by a felled tree. We should go to their aid! I’m sure that tree would be easy for us to shift…”

“Wait!” Loki hissed, having ridden up to flank Vali. “Stop and think for a moment, brother! Look beyond the wagon. This stretch of road is nestled between two blind corners, and the forest here is thick with low vegetation. In other words, a perfect place for an ambush.”

Vali nodded impassively at both brothers, “Very astute, Prince Loki. Well then young princes? How should we proceed?”

“We should…” Loki began, only to be interrupted by Thor.

“We should fan out and scan the surrounding forest on either side of the road,” Thor said as his eyes scanned the trees, appearing to not have heard Loki speaking. “Then if there are any brigands in the trees, we can surprise them. The hunters will become the hunted!”

“Thor!” Loki hissed, getting his brother’s attention.

“What?!” Thor whispered back impatiently.

“We should send someone over to those people to make sure they are safe if fighting breaks out,” Loki ground out, his jaw clenching in frustration.

Vali nodded at Loki’s suggestion, “Good idea, Prince Loki.”

Thor’s face looked pinched for moment until he grinned, “Excellent idea, brother! Bold of you to volunteer, but I have faith in your abilities.”

At Thor’s words, Vali looked slightly uncomfortable, “Ahem, Prince Thor, is it wise to send…”

“Fear not, Vali,” Loki said, having narrowed his eyes at Thor slightly. “I’m sure with Thor’s expert leadership I shall be in no danger.”

Fandral watched this exchange with increasing worry. He knew that Thor could goad Loki into almost anything, but rarely anything so dangerous as this. Fandral was about to agree with Vali and voice his concern over this plan, but before he could speak up Loki had spurred his horse away from the patrol.

As Fandral watched Loki approached the wagon, the prince cast a glamour over himself to change into an unassuming traveller. When the workers surrounding the wagon spotted him, they waved at the disguised prince for help. Loki promptly dismounted from his horse and bent down to speak to the traders.

Fandral was unable to see anything more as Thor and Vali split the warriors up, giving orders for them to dismount and fan out through the trees. As Fandral crouched in between Sif and Vali in the trees, he could hear his blood rushing in his ears, making it difficult for him to listen for any interlopers who may be around them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart at the thought that Loki was out there in the middle of the road with no cover.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fandral saw something move. He gestured towards where he saw the movement to direct his companions’ attention to towards the brush. Just as Vali was about to signal for them to push forwards toward the tree line, someone shouted and then a dozen brigands seemed to materialise out of the trees. More voices began to shout and then all Hel broke loose…

Chapter Text

Next to Fandral, Vali stood up out of the undergrowth and shouted an order to attack. In the blink of an eye, the forest went from peaceful and quiet to total chaos. There were shouts all around which were soon followed by the clang of steel and grunts of exertion from the fighters.

Fandral charged into the fray with Sif at his side. Once he emerged from the bushes in which he had been concealed, Fandral could see five brigands armed with short swords and quarter staves who had started moving towards the tree line. They quickly turned when Fandral, Sif, Vali, and one of the other Aesir warriors appeared behind them.

Fandral drew his rapier and moved towards one of the brigands armed with a short sword, knowing full well that his speciality was finesse and footwork rather than brute strength. Vali made a similar assessment of their situation and drew the attention of the two larger bandits carrying the quarter staves, charging at them with the other Aesir warrior at his side. Sif fell upon one of the others with a savage battle cry, which was enough to startle her enemy.

Fandral spared a moment to smile at the brigand who underestimated Sif, it would surely be the last mistake he would ever make. Fandral was also accustomed to enemies who underestimated him, as he did not have the imposing physique of Thor or the intimidating weapons of Hogun and Volstagg. What he did have, however, was speed and precision.

The two remaining enemies charged at Fandral, and he let them get up speed as he surreptitiously surveyed the terrain around him. Just as they reached him, Fandral took two swift steps backwards, nimbly avoiding the dense shrubs underfoot. One of the brigands stumbled as he used all his momentum to slash at the air where Fandral had been mere moments before and went crashing into the brush.

The other teetered off balance as he tried to pull up and avoid the fate of his comrade. Fandral took this opportunity to lunge at the bandit, batting the short sword away with his long and light rapier. Fandral took two quick steps towards the bandit, slashing efficiently and cleanly at his opponent’s torso. The bandit managed to clumsily twist out of the way of Fandral’s first strike, but he didn’t even see the second one coming as Fandral flicked his wrist smoothly. The razor-sharp tang of the rapier cut through the brigand’s sleeve like butter and left a streak of red blood behind.

Fandral tried to push his advantage by continuing his advance, but the bandit growled at his injury and managed to bring his sword up to counter the next attack. Fandral felt the shockwave of the brigand’s defensive parry reverberate up his arm, but he continued to rain quick, sharp thrusts and slashes at the bandit. As Fandral continued his swift assault, he managed to drive his opponent towards the tree line where the road met the forest. Although he hadn’t managed to land another blow, Fandral was acutely aware of the shrubs and slippery leaves underfoot, placing each foot deliberately as he advanced.

Before the bandit even realised he was in danger, he stepped back carelessly and tripped over a fallen log, sending him crashing to the ground. As the wind was knocked out of the fallen bandit, Fandral took the chance to slash deeply at the man’s thigh, making the bandit howl in pain and rage. He then proceeded to pierce the brigand’s dominant shoulder and deliver a swift kick to the man’s head, knocking the bandit unconscious.

Fandral removed his sword from the brigand and looked up to survey the battle. Vali and the other warrior had taken out one of their two foes and Sif had her adversary pinned against a tree with her shield, ready to make a killing blow. He could faintly see the skirmish taking place on the other side of the road in the trees where Thor, Hogun, Volstagg, and the two other warriors from their patrol were battling more brigands. With a rising sense of panic, Fandral realised that he couldn’t see Loki amidst the chaos as he surveyed the road. He was about to take a step out towards the wagon to find Loki when Fandral heard movement behind him.

He turned just in time to see the second brigand who had charged at him coming towards him once more. Just in time, Fandral managed to lift his rapier to deflect the oncoming blow from the bandit, but he was unable to react as the man continued to barrel straight into him. The brigand’s shoulder connected heavily with Fandral’s chest, knocking him back and onto the road.

Fandral was sent careening into the side of the wagon, and he felt the breath get knocked from his chest as he connected with the hard wood. Out of instinct, Fandral ducked to the side and twisted away from the oncoming bandit, whose sword struck the wood where Fandral’s head had previously been.

He skirted around the side of the wagon, backing away from the approaching bandit in an attempt to catch his breath. Fandral raised his rapier as the brigand approached, but he knew that he had lost the terrain advantage and was completely exposed on the open road. Fandral lifted his rapier to parry the next blow from his enemy as the bandit rounded the side of the wagon.

Before Fandral could consider his options, the bandit staggered as something flashed through the air. The bandit looked just as surprised as Fandral to find a dagger protruding from his thigh before he fell to one knee with a groan of pain. Fandral looked to his right to seek the source of the flying dagger and saw a flash of green as Loki stood up from behind the wagon, shedding his glamour.

Loki spun gracefully, his arm moving as fast as lightning, and another dagger embedded itself in the brigand, this time in the shoulder. The man was knocked to the ground, and it seemed unlikely that he was going to get up again any time soon.

Fandral turned and directed a shallow bow of thanks towards Loki, who sent him a small, pleased smile in return. Fandral started to move towards Loki, intending to back up the prince where he was protecting the civilians huddled under the wagon. Before he could take a step, he noticed movement from the tree line.

A hulking figure armed with a steel-studded club was charging at Loki, who had revealed himself as threat when he dropped his glamour.

“Loki! Watch out!” Fandral cried in horror, watching helplessly as the huge brute careened towards the prince.

Loki turned, eyes widening at the oncoming assault. He quickly threw up a shield of green light to protect him from the wild swing of the massive bandit’s club, but the force of the blow sent him flying backwards into the wagon.

The brute smiled cruelly and continued to advance on Loki, who was lying prone in the dirt. Suddenly, a piercing cry of rage split came from the trees and the air began to crackle with electricity. It seemed that Thor’s attention, which had previously been occupied with swinging Mjolnir at his enemies enthusiastically, had been attracted by Fandral’s cry and he had spotted his brother lying at the mercy of the hulking brigand.

With another cry of outrage, Thor began to swing his hammer until it crackled with lightning before he plunged it into the ground. Currents of lightning exploded around Thor, sending bark flying off nearby trees and knocking the remaining bandits off their feet. The huge brigand who had been advancing on Loki was sent flying into the supply wagon, where he became entangled with the goods on the cart. The bandit hung limply from the side of the wagon, twitching slightly as electricity coursed through him.

Fandral sprinted over to Loki and dropped his rapier as he crouched to help the prince, “Loki, my friend, please tell me you are alright.”

Loki grunted and Fandral thought he saw a flash of green light as he heard the others running to their aid.

“Loki!” Thor exclaimed, coming to an awkward halt a few paces away as Fandral helped Loki to his feet.

Fandral looked Loki over briefly, but he couldn’t see any obvious signs of injury, though he was not sure how that was possible. He had seen the huge blow that Loki had sustained, and he couldn’t believe that Loki would be completely unharmed. But Loki straightened up and stepped away from Fandral’s supporting arm.

Loki looked at his brother imperiously, “Surely you could have done that earlier and saved us all that trouble.”

Thor’s worried expression melted into one of relief at his brother’s sarcasm. “Ha ha!” Thor boomed, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “But where would be the fun in that? Ahem… anyway, I’m glad you’re alright, brother.”

At Thor’s heavy-handed slap, Fandral thought he saw Loki sway and turn a slightly worrying shade of green, but when he blinked Loki appeared to be completely fine again. Fandral narrowed his eyes in suspicion but didn’t say anything as Vali and the other warriors came over to check on everyone.

As Vali gave orders to contain the brigands who were still alive and co-ordinate the shifting of the tree blocking the path, Fandral kept a close eye on Loki. He seemed fine, but every so often he would stagger or shake his head as though coming out of a daze. He tried to catch Loki’s eye, but the prince refused to meet his gaze.

By the time they had rounded up the prisoners and sent the merchants on their way, Fandral was sure something was wrong as he saw Loki struggling to haul himself onto his horse. He was about to go over and say something but just at that moment, Vali called upon Heimdall to take them back to Asgard. Before he could speak, the group was enveloped in the rainbow light of the Bifrost.

Chapter Text

After delivering the captured brigands into the hands of the Aesir guards back on Asgard, the members of the patrol headed back to the palace courtyard. As they reined their horses to a halt, Fandral made sure to pull up close to Loki. Fandral jumped down from his horse quickly and grabbed his rapier from the saddle, before handing his gelding off to a stable hand.

Fandral moved to Loki’s side as he watched the prince gingerly slide down out of the saddle. When Loki staggered as soon as his feet touched the ground, Fandral was beside him to catch his arm and steady him. Loki looked at Fandral with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“Loki,” Fandral entreated softly. “What’s wrong? Tell me, please. I know you are injured, let me take you to the infirmary…”

“No,” Loki interrupted faintly, pushing Fandral away to stand on his own. “You mustn’t say a word to the others.”

Fandral tilted his head to the side to regard Loki with incredulity and confusion, “But, why? There is no shame in it. Many warriors brag endlessly when they get a new wound or scar…”

“No, Fandral,” Loki interrupted again, this time more firmly. “Say nothing… please.”

Fandral was so surprised that he took a small step back. Loki never said ‘please’, unless the word was laced with sarcasm, or he was being forced to be polite by his mother.

Fandral nodded in acknowledgement, “Very well, my friend. If that is what you wish. But promise me you will get yourself tended to.”

Loki bestowed Fandral with a tight-lipped smile and a small nod of agreement to the terms, before he started to walk slowly out of the courtyard. He was placing each foot carefully as though he was trying not to jostle any part of his body.

“Loki!” Thor boomed as he caught sight of the younger prince trying to make his escape. “Where are you going, brother? We have vanquished our foes and the realms are safe! There must be revels! Join us!”

Loki turned stiffly towards his brother and fixed him with a fake smile, “Enjoy your revels, Thor. I am going to report our little adventure to the All Father. But do not despair, brother, I’m sure you will be able to find someone else to hold your hair back from your face when all the celebrating catches up with you.”

“Ha ha!” Thor exclaimed, grinning at his brother, and not noticing anything amiss. “Fear not! I can always count Fandral, my trusted friend, for revels!”

Fandral looked past Thor to watch Loki turn and walk away gingerly up the steps to the palace. He was about to excuse himself from the celebrations, but he was swept away with the others under Volstagg’s meaty arm before he could say a word.

“Ha! Everyone knows that you can only count on Fandral until he lays eyes on a beautiful maiden! Then he is as good as lost for the rest of the evening!” Volstagg hollered as the group of young warriors headed towards the palace gates.

Fandral woefully turned away from Loki and let himself be swept up by his comrades, plastering a smile on his face, “Nor can we count on you, Volstagg, once you have set your eyes upon the buffet table!”

The warriors around them roared with laughter, including Volstagg himself. Fandral was drawn into the celebration, but his mind was occupied elsewhere.

**

After an hour or two of celebrating with the warriors, Fandral could take it no more. His thoughts kept wandering back to Loki, who was injured and probably alone up at the palace. Fandral only had one or two ales before he started looking for a way to excuse himself. In the end, he made up a story about some maiden who had invited him outside for some privacy, which allowed him to slip away from the revelling warriors and hurry back up to the palace.

It was dusk by the time he was able to escape from the tavern and the fading light made the golden spires of Asgard glitter and shine. Fandral would normally slow his pace to enjoy the glorious sight, but he could not take in the view as his thoughts were only of Loki.

When Fandral reached the palace he headed straight for the infirmary, as he hoped the stubborn prince had done what he asked and gone to get himself checked over. The infirmary wing of the palace was a large hall located behind one of Asgard’s many glittering sets of golden double doors. The high ceiling was vaulted and gilded in gold and silver, with coloured glass windows mounted high up on the carved walls. The main hall contained a number of rudimentary beds with screens of pale blue fabric, embroidered with swirling silver designs, to add a modicum of privacy.

Along the walls of the infirmary were numerous doors which lead off into smaller rooms. Some of them housed medical equipment and machines, while others were private rooms that featured larger beds and some of the comforts required for a longer stay.

Upon entering the large infirmary hall, Fandral swept his gaze around the large room to try and find Loki. Although, having seen the way Loki reacted amongst the other warriors, Fandral thought it unlikely that the prince would allow himself to be treated out in the open hall. He started to move through the infirmary, glancing at all the doorways leading off the main room for any indication that the prince might be within.

His eye was drawn to one of the doorways on the far side of the room, where a woman in a long peach gown was exiting and everyone in the vicinity immediately bowed or curtseyed. As the woman turned around, Fandral recognised Queen Frigga as she began to head towards the main doors.

Fandral moved slightly in front of the queen to halt her progress and bowed low, “Good evening, Your Majesty.”

Frigga smiled mildly and inclined her head, “Good evening, Fandral. I did not expect to find you here, surely you should be celebrating with the returning patrol after successfully apprehending the brigands from Vanaheim.”

“I was doing just that, Your Majesty,” Fandral replied earnestly. He dropped his voice slightly as he continued, “But I confess that I noticed something was wrong with Prince Loki after the ambush. I could not continue the revelry without checking on him.”

Frigga levelled him with a look of consideration and replied quietly after a slight pause, “I must say, I approve very much of your devotion to your friends, and indeed your keen observation skills.” She paused again for a moment, and Fandral bowed slightly in acknowledgement of her praise but waited for her to continue. “Loki does not let many people see when he is in pain, the fact that you were able to see through his illusion speaks highly of your regard for my son.”

Fandral felt a swell of panic rise inside him at the thought that the queen could see the depth of his attachment to Loki, but he dismissed this thought quickly. There is nothing for her to notice, he told himself harshly.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Might I ask… would I be able to see him?”

There was another loaded pause as the queen regarded Fandral carefully, until finally she stepped to one side and gestured towards the door she had exited, “You may see him, though whether he will allow himself to be seen is another matter entirely. Good luck, Fandral, and good night.”

“Good night, my queen,” Fandral replied, bowing low as Frigga passed him and departed from the infirmary.

Taking a deep breath to bolster his courage, Fandral made his way towards the closed-door Frigga had exited from. He hoped Loki would not be angry with him for checking to see if he was alright, but Fandral had to make sure that the prince wasn’t suffering. And perhaps it was important for him to show Loki that he didn’t need to suffer alone, at least not anymore.

He took another breath when reached the door, before raising his hand to knock gently.

Chapter Text

“Loki?” Fandral called softly through the door, trying not to draw any attention from the nurses around him. “My friend, it is I, Fandral. May I come in?”

There was no reply. Fandral waited a moment, deliberating with himself as to what he should do, before resolutely clasping the handle and pushing the door open. The room Fandral found himself in was relatively sparse with a large four-poster bed in the middle, a few side tables, and a nondescript cupboard. There was also a door in the corner of the room that was ajar, and Fandral could see the tiles of a washroom and hear splashing water echoing from the small chamber.

Fandral’s heart jumped into his throat when he realised what all this meant… Loki was in the washroom. And Fandral hadn’t been invited in. Before Fandral could hastily back out of sickroom, he heard a tired voice emanate from the washroom.

“Mother, if that’s you again I already told you, I don’t need any more…” Loki trailed off as he emerged from the washroom, his eyes widening in shock. “…help,” he finished breathlessly, as though his surprise had knocked the air from his lungs.

Loki wasn’t the only one who suddenly felt breathless. As Fandral observed Loki, who was shirtless and damp from a bath with one towel wrapped around his waist and another grasped limply in his hands, he felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. Fandral simultaneously could hear the blood rushing in his ears as desire swept over him, while also feeling certain that his heart had stopped beating completely in horror at the awkwardness of the circumstances.

No matter how much he tried to resist, Fandral’s eyes roamed over Loki’s pale skin and the rivulets of water that sill clung to his toned chest. Loki was not heavily muscled like his older brother, but his lithe body was clearly sculpted with understated strength. As he observed the prince closer, Fandral’s attraction fizzled out and was replaced with dismay.

Almost the entire left side of his upper body was mottled with black and blue bruises. Some were already less angry than others, having turned a sickly yellowish green after the healing magic Fandral assumed Loki had received, but the area around his shoulder still looked extremely angry and painful. After these few moments of silence, where both men had seemed momentarily frozen, Fandral suddenly felt as though cold water had been poured over him upon seeing Loki’s injuries.

“By the gods, Loki,” Fandral gasped.

At Fandral’s words Loki looked down at himself self-consciously, his mouth twisted slightly into a grimace of pain, “It’s not as bad as it looks…”

“I certainly hope not, because it looks ghastly,” Fandral replied, having recovered himself enough for an attempt at humour. His efforts were rewarded with a wry smile as Loki shuffled over the bed and sank down to perch on the end.

“Fear not, Fandral. I got myself checked over just like you asked, and I was healed by the best Asgard has to offer.”

Emboldened by not being kicked out of the sickroom immediately, Fandral took a few steps further into the room, “I assume that’s what Queen Frigga was doing here?”

Loki nodded as he used the towel in his hand to pat gently at his chest and dry himself off, “Among her many magical talents, she is quite adept at healing, though she protests that her healing magic is not as refined as her illusions.”

As Loki moved to begin drying his hair one-handed, Fandral continued to move closer until he could lean against one of the bed posts, “What happened? I saw you get hit by that hulking brute...”

Loki sighed, dropping the towel into his lap, “I managed to cast a shield just as he hit me, but I didn’t have time to create one strong enough to fully absorb the blow. So, although most of the force was absorbed by the shield, it still felt as though I had been hit by a charging bilgesnipe.”

Fandral winced in sympathy, “How bad was it?”

“Mother said that I had dislocated my left shoulder and broken the associated collarbone. I think there was a bruised rib or two, but all of that has been set and healed. Only the surface bruising remains, it will heal on its own.”

“Goodness, no wonder you looked to be in so much pain,” Fandral said, feeling slightly sick at the agony his friend must have been in. “But why did you conceal it from the others? I saw a flash of green light when you got up after the attack… did you cast an illusion on yourself to hide it?”

Loki looked up and met his eyes for the first time since Fandral had entered the sickroom, but his gaze was slightly guarded, “I’m surprised you noticed. It is rare for anyone to see through my illusions.”

“I cannot see through your illusions, Loki,” Fandral replied gently. At the confusion on Loki’s face, he continued, “I just know you better than you think. I could tell by the way you held yourself and your pained expression. Others may pay you little attention but an illusion to conceal an injury is not enough to fool me of your wellbeing.”

Loki levelled Fandral with that considering gaze that he had become very familiar with. Thinking back to his recent encounter with the queen, Fandral realised with a start that he could see where Loki had learned his piercing, evaluating stare. The resemblance in that moment was uncanny.

“It seems I have underestimated you yet again, Fandral,” Loki said finally, a small smile on his face. “It’s becoming something of a habit.”

“I hope it’s not a habit you intend to break, I would hate to become predictable!” Fandral replied, the smile on the prince’s face warming him to his core.

“Perish the thought,” Loki teased back, taking up his towel once more. He tried to reach around with one arm to pat his back dry, but quickly dropped his hand back to his lap with a grunt of pain.

“Would you like some assistance?” Fandral asked, before feeling as though his stomach had dropped into his boots. Oh gods, he thought with dismay. Did he really just offer to help Loki dry himself?! What was he thinking? Or was he even thinking at all? The impropriety of the whole situation…

Fandral’s inner panic was interrupted by Loki’s quiet affirmation, “Alright. Thank you…”

Fandral blinked in shock as he processed the prince’s words. He watched as Loki held out the towel for him to take as though it was happening in slow motion. Surely Loki didn’t mean what he said… but then Fandral looked into Loki’s eyes and saw the vulnerability in them. There was a kind of quiet hope in their blue depths that spurred Fandral into action. He would not scorn Loki’s trust in him, no matter how conflicted he was feeling.

He took the towel and waited as Loki shifted around slightly. Fandral took a deep breath, trying to keep all his buried feelings from bubbling to the surface through sheer force of will, and seated himself on the end of the bed beside Loki. As soon as he was presented with the pale expanse of Loki’s back, Fandral’s mouth went dry.

All his attempts to keep his gaze from lingering on the prince would now be forever ruined, as Fandral now knew exactly what was hidden beneath Loki’s silver and green clothes. His skin was smooth and pale, though his shoulders were lightly dusted with freckles that Fandral itched to reach out and…

Fandral shook himself and cleared his throat, mentally berating himself for getting caught up in his own desires while Loki was in a vulnerable position. He began to gently pat the dampness from Loki’s back as he scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t completely expose or embarrass himself.

“I cannot help but notice that you didn’t answer my previous question,” Fandral said.

“Hmm, so I didn’t,” Loki replied, avoiding the question yet again.

“I understand if you do not want to tell me, but I hope you know that I would never judge you, Loki. And I would never betray anything you tell me in confidence.”

There was a pause as Loki took a deep breath, making the skin shift under Fandral’s hands as he smoothed the towel across the prince’s shoulders. Then Loki began to speak quietly.

“I’m sure you remember when I told you that I used to spend my time with Thor and his friends, and how eventually I got sick of being second best to Thor…”

Fandral nodded, but then realised that Loki couldn’t actually see him, so he said, “I remember. You said that you decided to spend more time on your own.”

Loki nodded, “I did, but there was a catalyst that prompted that decision. One day, I was playing with Thor and his friends, we found a fallen tree which spanned a fast-flowing river. Thor decided that we should race across the log and see who could get to the other side the fastest. Despite being younger and smaller that the others, I of course agreed to the game as I didn’t want to be left out. So, I ran across the log… but I slipped. I believe that one of Thor’s friends stamped on the end of the tree to make me lose my balance, but of course no one was ever accused of such a thing. Either way, I fell into the river. I don’t remember what happened exactly, but I know that I was gravely injured and was bedridden for weeks afterwards with pneumonia.
“Thor was thoroughly reprimanded for putting me in danger like that, and he was apparently extremely upset about what had happened. So much so that he then treated me like glass for a long time, and even now he is very… protective of me. But when I finally recovered enough to play with the others again, they would brush past me and knock me in the ribs to make me cough and get me excluded from their games. As soon as I started to cough, Thor would then insist that I sit out and rest. Eventually I stopped playing with them all together, and I resolved to never show weakness or be vulnerable in front of others because it makes you an easy target. And I won’t be an easy target… not again.”

Loki was breathing heavily after he finished speaking, as though the effort of telling his story had taken a physical toll. Fandral was clutching the towel in his lap, twisting the fabric in anger and sorrow at Loki’s experience. He didn’t know what to say. He felt like raging against those cruel boys who hurt Loki as a child, but that didn’t feel appropriate.

“I’m so sorry, my friend,” Fandral said quietly. The words felt inadequate, but he hoped the sincerity behind them would be felt.

At Fandral’s quiet words, Loki shifted around to face him, “Don’t be sorry, Fandral. Just… be different… Be different than them.”

The fierceness in Loki’s expression knocked the breath from Fandral’s lungs, but he swallowed and nodded, “I promise that I will always try to be.”

Loki smiled at him then, eyes softening, “And by making that promise, you already are.”

Fandral smiled in return, letting his eyes roam over Loki’s face. The wall that usually hid the emotions behind his eyes seemed to have almost completely vanished, and Fandral found himself getting lost in the tenderness he could detect in Loki’s blue eyes. He loved it when Loki smiled at him like this, the way his whole face relaxed. His usually pursed lips loosened into a lopsided smirk and the furrowed brow that he so often had around other people smoothed out. Fandral noticed that a lock of dark hair had fallen across the side of Loki’s face and Fandral’s hand itched to reach up and tuck it behind the prince’s ear….

'The prince'… remember, you fool, he’s a prince, Fandral thought firmly, shaking himself out of his reverie. His body had leaned forwards into Loki’s space without him even realising, so he quickly sat back and cleared his throat. He tore his eyes away from Loki, though he felt as though it caused him physical pain to do so.

Fandral placed the towel he still held back into Loki’s lap, “Ahem, all done! Your back, I mean… is dry…”

Loki drew a slightly shaky breath and shuffled slightly away from Fandral, “Yes, thank you for your help.”

Fandral’s eyes were drawn back to Loki as he ran a hand through his damp hair. So much for there being nothing for the queen to notice, Fandral thought to himself bitterly. Oh, he was truly in trouble now… Fandral was sure that every time he looked at Loki, he would see him in his mind’s eye shirtless and damp and warm like he was now…

Despite his internal conflict, he couldn’t stop the words falling from his lips, “Anytime. And thank you… for telling me all that and letting me help you. I won’t tell a soul.”

Loki smiled at him again, making Fandral’s insides feel like jelly.

“I trust you,” he said simply, as though it was the most obvious fact in all the nine realms.

Fandral couldn’t take their closeness anymore, fearing that he would do something foolish, so he got to his feet and moved towards the door. Before leaving, he turned and said, “For what it’s worth, I do not think you are weak. Anyone who would take advantage of you in such a way… they are the weak ones.”

Loki said nothing, but simply nodded and continued to smile at Fandral with that open, vulnerable expression. Fandral cleared his throat again, “Take care, Loki, and make sure you get some rest.”

“I will. Goodnight, Fandral.”

“Goodnight, my friend.”

Fandral forced himself to open the door and duck out back into the main infirmary hall. As the door closed behind him, he felt as though some magnetic force was pulling him back inside the room, back to Loki’s side. He ran a hand over his face and felt how warm his cheeks were. Fandral groaned slightly at the thought that he had been blushing in front of Loki. Again.

After trying to bury his feelings for the young prince for so long, seeing Loki like that had broken open the vault in his mind where he locked away his desire for the prince. As Fandral dragged himself back towards his chambers outside the palace proper, he considered the fact that his attachment to Loki was more than just desire. If that was all it was, it would be easy for Fandral to find someone else to fill that need. But the problem was… he liked Loki.

His attraction was not surface deep, but rather, he was attracted to the personality beneath the handsome exterior. He loved Loki’s sharp wit and the way he challenged Fandral’s opinions through their friendly debates. He loved how Loki flicked his hair out of his face with an impatient shake of his head, or the way he worried his bottom lip between his teeth when he was concentrating. Every quirk made Fandral’s heart sing in a way he had never experienced before…

But Loki was a prince, Fandral reminded himself. It was simply not possible… and besides, he had seen nothing that indicated Loki had any interest in him in a sexual or romantic way. As he pondered this, Fandral realised that he had not seen Loki express that kind of interest in anyone at all. But he didn’t dare hope that their close friendship meant anything more… Fandral could not bear to get his hopes up only to have them dashed. And he was not going to betray the precious trust Loki had bestowed upon him.

Fandral sighed as he reached his empty chambers… their friendship would simply have to be enough.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Fandral did not see Loki at all, but he was not overly concerned. After their talk in the infirmary, he figured that Loki would want to keep a low profile until he was fully healed lest anyone discover his ‘weakness’.

At first, Fandral had been disappointed when he had not seen Loki the day after the Vanaheim patrol, but then he saw it as a perfect opportunity to regain his composure, which had completely shattered after seeing Loki in naught but a towel. He tried to build some of his defences back up again to ensure that there would be no embarrassment when he next saw Loki. Fandral even went so far as to find a nice, fair haired stable boy to flirt with to take his mind off things.

It was not really frowned upon in Asgard to conduct relations with someone of the same gender, but formal homosexual couples were certainly rare, particularly amongst the elite. Fandral had heard that in the lower town and surrounding villages of Asgard there were men living together as more than roommates, or women living together without husbands until they grew old, and even family units with children. But in Asgard’s court, it was far more likely that someone might have a secret relationship before they made an advantageous marriage in accordance with their family’s wishes. Or even for these secret relationships to continue throughout such marriages.

Fandral thought the whole thing was ridiculous, and one should be able to court whomever one wished… but he had to keep reminding himself of the way things were so that he could keep his feelings for Loki buried deep where no one could notice. It was widely known that one day the princes would have to marry. There would never be something so primitive as an arranged marriage, but it was expected that Thor would choose a worthy wife to be his queen, to rule at his side and continue the royal line with children.

As the second born son, Loki’s fate was less certain, but it was typical for second and third siblings of elite families to secure advantageous political connections through marriage. Fandral thought it was unfair that Thor had a certain amount of freedom to choose a wife, as Odin had before him, while Loki was likely doomed to be married off for advantage and the security of the nine realms. But he resolutely reminded himself of these facts as the days passed in an effort to reinforce to himself how impossible it would be to court Loki… even if he desperately wished to.

Fandral resolved to himself that he would not sully the prince’s reputation by attempting any such thing, for his own safety as well as Loki’s. After all, Fandral’s reputation as a notorious flirt preceded him. No one would take him seriously if he tried to woo the prince, and he would likely have his skull crushed by Thor for touching his baby brother.

No… it was safer to lock the feelings he had for Loki away.

Fandral was determined and resolute in his conviction when he next saw Loki, a few days after their encounter in the infirmary.

He came across Loki walking casually through the halls of the palace. Sif was at Fandral’s side, as they were heading out to the training fields to run drills with Thor, and Loki was walking in the opposite direction with a leather satchel slung over one shoulder. Fandral noticed that the satchel was slung over his uninjured shoulder, and he was still walking slightly gingerly, but to Fandral’s eye the prince looked much better.

“Afternoon, Loki!” Fandral called out cheerily as the approached each other. “How goes it?”

Loki smiled thinly at him and Sif, but the glint in the prince’s eye was enough to convince Fandral of his good humour underneath the façade. Loki shrugged his good shoulder and regarded them both with a devious smile, “As well as can be expected on a dull day such as this.”

Sif narrowed her eyes at Loki, “You wouldn’t be planning something to make it less ‘dull’, would you Loki?”

Loki pressed a hand to his chest in mock offence and schooled his features into the picture of innocence, “Me, Lady Sif? Surely not…”

Fandral reached up to scratch his beard to cover his smile as Sif hummed derisively, clearly unconvinced. She stuck her nose in the air and continued to walk by. As Fandral passed Loki, he said softly, “You look much better.”

“I feel better, thank you, Fandral,” Loki replied mildly, though his calm exterior was belied by the look in Loki’s blue eyes, as though he knew something Fandral did not.

“What’s in the satchel?” Fandral asked suspiciously, trying to distract himself from the tender lilt in the prince’s hushed voice and the fresh jasmine scent of him as they drew close.

A mischievous smile spread across Loki’s face, “Something for a spell.”

“Ah,” Fandral replied with a knowing nod, “A disruptive spell, perhaps?”

Loki tilted his head coyly, “Hmm… possibly.”

Fandral stamped down on the flutter in his belly as a lock of raven black hair fell across his cheek when he tilted his head. He clenched his fist to stop himself from reaching out to smooth the hair back and blinked hard to drag his attention back to their conversation, “It won’t blow something up, will it?”

Loki grinned devilishly, flicking the hair back from his face with a twitch of his head, and replied with glee, “Almost definitely.”

Fandral was about to scold Loki half-heartedly, but Sif called his name from the end of the corridor. He ended up simply shaking his head with disapproval, but the effect was ruined somewhat by the smile Fandral felt pulling at the corners of his mouth. Loki chuckled and sauntered off down the corridor, looking altogether far too pleased with himself.

Damn him, Fandral thought as he caught up with Sif. He knew it was going to be a challenge to keep his feelings buried, but the ache he felt in his heart as he turned back to watch Loki disappear down the corridor was more painful than anything he had felt before. However, the pain he felt in his soul at the idea of living his life without Loki in it at all was a hundred times worse. And so, Fandral knew he would endure.

…And when a stink bomb was discovered in Baldur’s chambers later that day, well, Fandral was not going to tell anyone where it came from.

Chapter Text

Loki and Fandral’s friendship continued in this manner for a number of years; where Loki was being unintentionally alluring and Fandral was trying extremely hard not to notice. Fandral began to get used to the pain that would constrict his chest whenever Loki was near him, but instead of resenting the ache in his heart, he reminded himself of the numbing terror he had felt during the Vanaheim raid when he had been scared for Loki’s life. The thought of life without Loki tore so deeply at his core that Fandral was able to cope with the daily hurt of being unable to court the prince. He even began to embrace his burning longing like an old friend.

Fandral feared that sometimes Loki could detect fleeting glimpses of his inner turmoil, as he would occasionally regard Fandral with a furrowed brow and concern etched into his delicate features. If Fandral ever noticed this expression on the prince’s face, though, he would quickly conjure up one of his famous charming smiles and try to say something witty to distract Loki until he chuckled or smiled. Making Loki smile had quickly become one of Fandral’s greatest missions, and the bittersweet combination of adoration and longing that Fandral felt when Loki smiled or laughed melodiously was extremely addictive.

Despite his affection for Loki, Fandral continued to flirt and charm his way through the young ladies and gents of the court in the hope that he could alleviate the bubbling pool of desire that flared in his belly after spending time with the prince. And although his liaisons took the edge off his lust, Fandral knew that there was nothing he could do about his adoration for Loki, which went beyond the physical.

Sometimes, Fandral thought he saw a pang of something behind Loki’s eyes if he happened upon Fandral with one of his paramours. But Fandral dared not look too closely lest he find something in those looks that he could not bear. Was it disgust? Pity? Loki had never shown interest in any of the ladies of the court that were introduced him, or any of the other desperate ones who had attempted to throw themselves at the prince only to be loudly rejected and humiliated. Perhaps Loki just wasn’t into that sort of thing?

But a stubborn part of Fandral’s subconscious suggested that Loki might be jealous. Logically, however, he didn’t dare hope that this was the case and tried to quash that little voice in his head that kept trying to give him hope. If Loki was not interested in courtship and romance, was he appalled by Fandral’s penchant for flirtation? Was that what he was seeing behind the prince’s eyes? Fandral resolved to not question the looks that Loki sometimes gave him, he didn’t want to add to the pain already taking up residence in his heart.

Therefore, their friendship continued largely unchanged, with many things unsaid and an increasing sense of tension between the two men, until one hot summer’s afternoon.

Fandral had been training all morning with the other Aesir warriors. Even though they trained earlier during summer to avoid the humidity of the day, it had been sticky and muggy throughout their manoeuvres. By the time Thor suggested that they continue their training in one of Asgard’s cool lakes, the Aesir drill masters were too sweaty and grumpy to put up much resistance to the idea.

They all stripped down to their underclothes and jumped into lake just outside the palace walls. After revelling in the cool water for a few moments, the drill masters ordered them all to swim laps to finish their training for the morning. When their laps were concluded, the warriors clambered out of the lake to retrieve their equipment.

As Fandral climbed the bank to retrieve his clothes, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, he thought he saw something… a flash of ivory skin and raven hair on one of the high balconies of the palace overlooking the lake. He wiped some stray droplets from his eyelashes and looked again, but the balcony was empty. Fandral felt a nagging sensation in his gut, as though he had missed something important… but before he could consider the feeling further, Thor walked past him and shook water from his hair like a dog, spraying droplets all over Fandral’s clothing. This prompted a number of playfully outraged insults and the start of a high stakes splashing war, making Fandral quickly forget about what he had seen.

In the aftermath of the water battle, many of Fandral’s clothes were soaked through. He was not particularly cross about this, though, as the day was only getting hotter and the idea of getting fully dressed was unappealing. He decided to simply put on his trousers, boots, and his sleeveless knee-length surcoat. Fandral left his surcoat unbuckled and wore it without a shirt underneath, as his shirt was dripping wet after Hogun had stolen it to use as a whip.

Fandral gathered up the rest of his belongings and trudged back to the palace. By the time he arrived, he was already sweating again and was glad that he had not chosen to get fully dressed. As he entered the palace, his thoughts returned to the balcony where he had seen the glimpse of a figure from the lake. Once again, he felt an inexplicable nagging feeling in his gut, and before he knew it his feet were steering him in the direction of the balcony overlooking the lake.

When he arrived at the open-air balcony, Fandral thought at first that he was alone. He couldn’t see anyone standing out on the terrace or in the nearby corridor. He was about to turn back the way he had come when something caught his eye; a pair of booted feet sticking out from behind one of the decorative pillars. He ventured out onto the terrace and could not help the smile that bloomed on his face at the sight before him.

Loki was sitting on the floor, in the corner of the balcony behind a pillar. His long legs were extended out in front of him, and he was balancing his sketchpad on his knees. As Fandral moved onto the balcony, Loki looked up at him with a startled expression and moved to cover whatever sketch he was working on.

“Fandral!” he exclaimed in surprise, “Hello there…”

“Greetings, my prince!” Fandral replied with his customary bow. “I hope you are well and staying cool in the heat. I see you have found a shady place to sequester yourself, and with a cool breeze off the water no less!”

“Indeed, the weather is stifling,” Loki replied somewhat stiffly.

Instead of his usual leather jerkin, Loki was dressed in a dark green cloth tunic featuring intricate braiding and folds woven throughout the material. Fandral noticed that Loki’s dark hair was damp with sweat at the nape of his neck, making the locks curl up in all directions, and his usually pale face was slightly flushed (though whether this was from the heat or being discovered, Fandral was unsure).

Fandral hung his damp clothes over the balustrade of the balcony, before turning around to lean on it and face Loki, “I have just come from training. Thor had the brilliant idea of finishing our drills in the lake, which was very refreshing! Though, unfortunately, a number of my garments fell afoul of the water battle that ensued afterwards.”

“So I see,” Loki said, eyes darting between the drenched clothes and Fandral’s bare chest under his open surcoat.

“I thought I saw someone up here when I was down in the lake,” Fandral continued, curiously watching the flush on Loki’s cheeks creep up to the tips of his ears. “I dare not presume to know the actions of a prince, but perhaps it was you I saw behind a pillar?”

Loki cleared his throat and avoided Fandral’s eyes, “Well… it is entirely possible that I was walking by, looking for a cool place to sit as you said, and my eye was drawn to the ruckus in the water. It is also possible that I decided the view was enchanting and I was struck with inspiration to draw. The lake, I mean. That is, the view of the lake…” Loki trailed off and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture.

Fandral narrowed his eyes in confusion and even slight suspicion. It was unusual for Loki, he with the silver tongue, to trip over his words. Something was going on here, and Fandral could barely contain the stubborn sliver of hope that flared to life in his chest. Perhaps there was another reason entirely for Loki’s blush…

“Indeed… The view from here is very beautiful,” Fandral replied, though he deliberately kept his eyes on Loki and ignored the lake entirely. The bubble of hope in his chest caused his stomach to flip over in anticipation. Fandral realised was playing with fire, but it seemed like there was more going on here…

“Yes,” Loki breathed, eyes roaming over Fandral’s face down to his exposed chest. “Truly beautiful…”

Fandral released a shaky breath that he hadn’t even realised he was holding as he watched Loki watching him. It was too deliberate to mean anything else, Fandral realised. Loki was staring at him though hooded lids until their gazes met… and suddenly Loki’s eyes widened in shock and even a little bit of horror, as though realising what he had just revealed.

All of sudden, Loki was a blur of movement as he hastily snapped his sketchbook shut and gathered his belongings, mumbling excuses about his need to leave and stumbling to his feet without his usual grace. Fandral felt as though he was experiencing whiplash; first he had felt shocked and then joyous at the thought that Loki might desire him too, but then he felt his stomach drop like a stone at Loki’s dismay and fear upon realising what he had unwittingly disclosed. And now all he felt was a twisting in his gut at the thought that Loki was leaving to avoid him.

Before he realised what he was doing, Fandral grasped Loki’s shoulders gently to prevent him from leaving. Loki’s movements stilled but he studiously avoided Fandral’s gaze.

“Wait, Loki, please do not go…” Fandral said, somewhat embarrassed by just how desperate he sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My friend, perhaps we could stay here in the cool a while longer.”

But Loki was shaking his head with a pained expression on his face, “Fandral…”

Fandral would not give up so easily, and he wracked his brain to think of something that might convince Loki to stay on the balcony with him. His thoughts went back to their first conversation in the secret garden, “Why don’t you stay and draw me?”

Loki looked up at that, eyes wide with surprise and no small amount of uncertainty. Fandral continued, “Remember that day in the queen’s garden, when I found you singing while you drew the willow tree? You said that you would like to draw me sometime. Well, you have your supplies with you… stay, Loki, please.”

Loki still looked uncertain, but Fandral could see that his resolve was crumbling even as the prince said quietly, “Fandral… this is a bad idea.”

Fandral thought that Loki was talking about more than simply staying on the balcony to draw, so he squeezed Loki’s shoulders gently.

“Perhaps it is,” Fandral said gently, before his lips curved into lopsided smile. “But we won’t know for sure unless we try it out…”

Loki still looked conflicted and stepped back out of Fandral’s grasp, but he didn’t turn to leave the balcony which Fandral thought was a good sign. Slowly, cautiously, Loki moved back to the corner of the balcony and sat down once more. He gripped his sketchbook tighter as though coming to a decision and spoke quietly.

“I suppose I can’t pass up an opportunity to draw you up close…”

Fandral smiled a wide, joyous grin at Loki's agreement to stay. But then his brain caught up with Loki’s words, “What do you mean, up close?”

Loki froze for a moment as he was setting up his drawing supplies, before adopting a nonchalant air and shrugging carelessly, “Well, I was drawing the lake. And you happened to be in the lake… quite a happy coincidence, don’t you think?”

Despite the blush that had reappeared on Loki’s neck, Fandral was relieved to hear the prince return to his regular aloof teasing.

“Happy indeed, I would say,” Fandral replied, using a more flirtatious tone than he would ever usually allow when talking to Loki.

The prince looked up at him thoughtfully, clearly noticing the change in Fandral’s tone. The corners of Loki’s mouth twitched slightly as though he wanted to smile, but the prince’s features remained carefully blank. Fandral could not help feeling frustrated at the mask of indifference that had slid back into place to conceal Loki’s expression. He had thought they were passed putting up pretences around each other. Fandral resolved to draw away that mask, he had done it before and he could do so again.

While Fandral was thinking to himself, Loki looked away and turned to a new page of his sketchbook. Fandral decided to take a seat on the floor opposite the prince so that Loki wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look at him while drawing. He settled himself with one leg outstretched and one knee raised up to his chest, foot planted firmly on the cool tiles. He casually rested his elbow on his raised knee and let his other hand lie in his lap.

“Is this pose alright?” Fandral asked innocently, fully aware that his surcoat was pooled around him artistically and was still open to reveal his chest.
Loki looked up and swallowed hard. Fandral could not help but be pleased at the pink tips of Loki’s ears, but as he watched, the prince took a deep breath and regarded him once more with an impassive expression.

“That will do nicely,” Loki said evenly, but Fandral could see the tell-tale glimmer in the prince’s blue eyes that revealed his genuine happiness.

Feeling bolstered by this, Fandral felt his lips stretch into a grin and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. He felt delirious. Was Loki really letting Fandral flirt with him? Did the happiness in his eyes mean what Fandral thought it could mean? Loki had not explicitly confirmed anything, but as Loki instructed Fandral to stay still in his rich velvety voice, Fandral thought he could detect a new layer of heat beneath his usual teasing tone.

As Loki began to draw, Fandral searched for something to say. He didn’t want to distract Loki while he was working on his sketch, but the idea of sitting in silence while Loki kept looking up and gazing at him intently was too much for Fandral to cope with without his imagination running away with him. Perhaps if he could get Loki talking about his thoughts on relationships, Fandral could gain some insight into Loki’s behaviour.

“So, have you drawn many portraits before? I cannot recall having seen you do so.”

“Yes I have, but I have never sketched someone who is aware they are being drawn,” Loki lifted his eyes and smiled briefly at Fandral’s questioning eyebrow. “I often observe people from a distance. I think the only other person I have had sit for a portrait was my mother.”

Fandral took a deep breath, gathering his resolve as he asked, “So… there has never been a special someone who wanted to sit for you?”

Loki’s charcoal paused in its dance across the page and the prince looked at Fandral through his dark lashes, “You know as well as I that there are hardly scores of people lining up to spend time with me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Fandral replied, trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant despite his sorrow at Loki’s loneliness. “I am sure I have seen plenty of courtly ladies trying to get your attention.”

“Hmm, and they are all pathetic simpletons with hardly a brain cell between them,” Loki rebuffed dryly. When he spoke again, however, his voice was softer and laced with sadness. “Besides, they only want to be in my company because they want something from me. They want power and position… they do not wish to truly know me. I have said no to so many of them that, after a time, most stopped asking.”

Fandral could not help feeling conflicted at this information. He was selfishly glad that he was the only one who had managed to peel away some of the layers surrounding Loki’s heart, but he was devastated to think that he had been the only one who had wanted to try. “I am sorry, Loki, for the way those courtiers wish to use you. Perhaps there are those who do not want something from you? Perhaps… men are better suited to your tastes?”

Fandral saw a flash of surprise on Loki’s face before the prince chuckled ruefully, “I don’t mind one way or the other, to be honest. But… unfortunately, I have found that most people who pursue me want something from me nonetheless, no matter their gender. Often all they want is for me to put in a good word with Thor for them…”

Fandral felt his fists clench. If he knew who among the young squires or warriors had made advances towards Loki for their own gain, he would thrash them in a heartbeat. How dare they try to take advantage of the young prince... but Fandral forced his fingers to relax so as not to ruin his pose for Loki’s drawing. Then a thought struck him, “Does that mean… that is to say, have you never been with someone before? In a relationship or…”

Loki looked up again and raised a challenging eyebrow, but Fandral cleared his throat a little awkwardly and continued, “Ahem… dalliances?”

A sly, teasing grin tugged at Loki’s lips, but Fandral thought he saw a steely glint in the prince’s eyes, “Dalliances? Is that what you call leaping into bed with any passably attractive person who happens to walk past?”

Fandral spluttered in protest. Despite Loki’s teasing expression there was a harshness behind the words that left an uncomfortable hollowness in his gut, “Hardly! I will have you know that I am much less promiscuous than my reputation does me credit for… But truly, Loki, has there never been anyone for you?”

Loki looked back to his sketch and continued to draw in silence. The prince was quiet for so long that Fandral thought he was simply not going to answer. But then he spoke softly, eyes still glued to his sketch, “There have been ‘dalliances’ as you so tastefully put it… but they have been few and far between. I fear I am not cut out for romantic entanglements.”

“Why not?” Fandral asked just as quietly, trying not to spook Loki away from opening up.

“I have been told that my conceit and arrogance leads to a cold disregard for the feelings of other people. Which I assume means that once someone gets to know me… they do not like what they find.”

Loki spoke with such a cool indifference that Fandral knew it had to be a façade. He wished he could get his hands on the people who made Loki think this way, he didn’t deserve to be told such cruel things. Fandral spoke firmly, trying to reassure Loki, “Well, you can rest assured that is not the case with me. I have known you a long time Loki and I have not found a part of you that I dislike.”

Loki paused again in his drawing and spoke without looking up, “…perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think, then…”

Fandral took a breath to protest but before he could get a word out, Loki finished a line with a flourish and declared that the portrait was finished. The prince got to his feet swiftly and held out the sketchbook for Fandral to view. He was about to try protesting Loki’s previous words once more but when Fandral saw the portrait Loki had done, he felt all words escape him.

The portrait depicted Fandral from the waist up and showed his arm draped carelessly over his tucked-up knee. Loki had chiselled out the muscles of Fandral’s arms and torso using dark shading and strong lines, but the outlines of his hair and face were much softer. Loki had rendered Fandral’s features delicately with light and shade, showing him looking off to the side with a gentle smile. The sweep of Fandral’s hair looked soft enough to touch, and the strands seemed to shine out from the paper.

But it was the eyes that really took Fandral’s breath away. Although he was flattered by the hard muscles Loki portrayed and impressed by the kind smile he had captured, the eyes of the drawing seemed to hold a multitude of emotions. They were bright with mirth, as though he had just finished laughing at a joke, and caught the cheerfulness that Fandral was known for, but they also held something deeper. It seemed to Fandral that Loki had captured the adoration that he felt whenever he looked at the prince, shining in the depths of the black and white portrait.

“Oh, Loki,” Fandral breathed with awe. “This is wonderful… You have depicted more than simply a likeness; I feel as though this Fandral could come to life and laugh at any moment!”

Loki blushed slightly again at the praise, a wide smile crinkling his face, “Thank you, Fandral. I am glad you like it.”

“I love it,” Fandral replied honestly, meeting Loki’s blue eyes and trying to convey to all the tenderness he felt for the prince, willing Loki to understand the depth of his affection.

Loki’s smile faded slightly, though Fandral could not figure out why. The prince moved to tear the drawing from the book gently before holding it out, “If you like it so much, you should keep it.”

Fandral reached out and covered Loki’s outstretched hand with his own, “I would rather that you held onto it. That way, when you look at it, you can think of me and the moments we have shared.”

There was a pause. Loki stared at where Fandral’s hand covered his and blinked slowly. He then raised his eyes to Fandral’s, “Very well. I shall do just that… thank you for sitting for me, Fandral.”

“Anytime, my friend,” Fandral said. He reluctantly pulled his hand away and watched as Loki tucked the loose portrait between the pages of his sketchbook carefully.

It seemed to Fandral that Loki was wrestling with something, as though he was looking for the right thing to say or do. But then the moment passed and Loki, seemingly unable to find anything to say, turned around to gather his belongings. With a final smile in Fandral’s direction, the prince left the balcony without a word.

For some reason, Fandral felt bitter disappointment. He had been sure that Loki was going to say something, possibly something revelatory. After their shared moment commenting on the beautiful view and then seeing the care with which Loki had rendered his portrait, Fandral had thought that maybe the prince would give him a clearer indication of his feelings.

After a minute or two, Fandral resolved to shrug off his disappointment. He had found out more than he had ever dared to hope. It seemed that Loki thought he was beautiful. This tiny morsel stoked the stubborn ember of hope in Fandral’s chest into a flame. He knew now what he had to do. He had to show Loki that he was different than those other suitors who had hurt him.

Fandral the Dashing had to court prince Loki.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Fandral began to devise a plan to woo Loki. He knew that the prince was unlike any other person he had courted, and he didn’t want to mess it up. Not only was Loki unlike anyone else in terms of personality (which meant that Fandral’s usual tricks like flattery and flowers were very unlikely to work) but also, he was a prince, and any overt gestures could land them both in a lot of trouble. No, Fandral knew he had to be subtle. Or at least find a private place to talk to Loki alone.

After wracking his brain to come up with the perfect thing (and speaking to Volstagg about food recommendations), Fandral finally came up with a plan and began to put it in motion. When the day arrived, Fandral slipped Loki a message with his breakfast. He knew that Loki often took his breakfast in his chambers rather than in one of the many great halls where the courtiers gathered, and he managed to intercept the footman carrying Loki’s breakfast tray. Once he had persuaded the young fellow to deliver his note, Fandral went to complete his final preparations.

By the time noon rolled around, Fandral was waiting nervously in the queen’s private gardens under the willow tree and hoping that Loki would show up. He looked around him for about the hundredth time to make sure everything was perfect. There was a golden blanket spread out at the foot of the tree on which Fandral was seated. Around him were arranged platters of cold meats, cheeses, bread, fruit, and some sweet pastries along with a pitcher of wine. He hadn’t brought flowers or anything like that, but Fandral’s lute was resting against the tree behind him in case it was required.

As the final toll of the bells marking the hour died away, the gate to the garden opened and Loki stepped through onto the grass. Fandral noticed the way Loki’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at the scene before him, but then was blinded by the happy grin spreading across the prince’s face.

Fandral quickly got to his feet and then swept into his customary bow, “Greetings, Loki! I take it you received my message.”

Loki walked towards Fandral with a bemused expression, “Hello, Fandral. I did indeed, but you mentioned nothing of what I should expect. What is all this, then?”

“What does it look like?” Fandral replied, making a sweeping gesture to the picnic. “Food and good company if I do say so myself!”

Loki came to a halt a few paces away from the blanket’s edge and chuckled. He appeared to be fighting smile and attempting to look serious for his teasing, “How presumptuous of you…”

“I have it on good authority that I am excellent company,” Fandral replied, falling easily into their familiar pattern of banter.

“Oh, yes? From whom?”

“Why, from you Loki! I recall you saying to me in this very garden that you enjoyed my company.”

“Hmm, I seem to remember it differently,” said Loki, making a show of sizing up the picnic and Fandral himself with an air of indifference. “I believe I said you were ‘not terrible company’, which is hardly a glowing appraisal.”

Fandral waved a hand in dismissal, feeling his lips pull up into a lopsided smile of their own accord as he sat down on the blanket, “Well, that was a long time ago, surely you’ve come to your senses by now and realised the extent of my charm!”

Loki hummed noncommittally before seating himself opposite Fandral, “What’s the occasion?”

Fandral shrugged, trying to temper the sudden racing of his heart, and replied nonchalantly, “Does there have to be an occasion for us to spend time together?”

“I suppose not,” Loki said. He looked Fandral over with that familiar evaluating gaze. “But this seems… more somehow.”

This was the perfect opportunity to say something, Fandral thought. He took a shaky breath and tried to get the words out. He figured a direct approach would be best and get any discomfort over with quickly.

“Well, now that you mention it… I have a proposition for you. If you are agreeable, we could consider this a first step…”

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, “A step towards what, exactly?”

“My courting you.”

There it was. The words were out in the open and Fandral could not take them back. He felt hot and cold all over, partly with relief that his desires were revealed but he also felt dread as Loki had gone completely still. Fandral felt slightly sick as Loki’s mouth dropped open and his previously narrowed eyes widened with shock.

By the gods, Fandral thought with terror, What have I done? Have I ruined our friendship… Did I misread this whole situation?

Loki still hadn’t said anything, so Fandral swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and tried to explain himself, “I, uh… I noticed your reaction to me on the balcony a few days ago, when you drew me. I saw you staring… and I thought, well, I thought that perhaps my feelings were requited after all. But perhaps I was mistaken…”

Fandral’s rambling was interrupted by Loki saying quietly, “What about your… dalliances?”

Fandral blinked in surprise. Of all the things he thought Loki might say, he had not been expecting that. “My… what?”

“Those men and women you insist on parading around with,” Loki retorted with no small amount of scorn. “Every week you have a new beau, some poor foolish soul who is about as interesting as Tyr’s right hand…”

Perhaps Loki truly had been jealous after all, Fandral realised. What a fool he had been! He quickly tried to explain, “Mere distractions! Truly, they were simply diversions from what I wanted most but thought I could not have….” When Loki’s expression of disbelief did not change, Fandral felt the need to elaborate, “That’s you, by the way. You are the one I have wanted for a very long time… but I thought it would never happen.”

There was a loaded pause as Loki searched Fandral’s face. Perhaps he was looking for signs of insincerity, but Fandral was not worried about what the prince would find. If even a sliver of the desperation he felt in his heart was showing on his face, Loki would have to believe the honesty of his words and the feeling behind them.

“Why?” Loki asked eventually.

Fandral’s brow furrowed, “Why, what?”

Loki huffed in exasperation, “So many things! Why did you think it could never happen? Why craft such a ridiculous reputation for charm and waste it on those fools! And… well… why me?”

Fandral was completely taken aback. Was this what Loki thought of himself? Could he truly not understand why Fandral was completely smitten with him? After a shocked moment, Fandral cleared his throat to answer, “My dear Loki… Why you? How could there be anyone else? You are intelligent, witty, talented… quite simply you are the most intriguing person I have ever met. And you are more beautiful than anyone I have ever set eyes on, both inside and out.”

Loki was still looking at him with disbelief, and Fandral could detect the insecurity behind the expression. Clearly Loki was not yet convinced so he went on, “As for why I thought we could never be together… well, that was primarily because you are a prince. Any overt attempts to court you would have been scandalous at best. At worst… it hardly bears thinking about. But also, I believed you did not think of me that way. I thought you saw me as no more than a friend, and I am honoured to be your friend, so I was content. But then, on the balcony… I felt like we shared something deeper.”

When Fandral mentioned the balcony, Loki blushed and averted his gaze. Fandral felt emboldened once more, “It gave me hope that perhaps… there was a chance for something between us?”

Loki’s expression softened for a moment before his eyes hardened slightly again, “What about your various conquests that you boast about to Thor and his friends? Do they all receive the same treatment? A picnic and flattery with your words? Your reputation is infamous…”

“Half of those conquests are made up!” Fandral exclaimed with frustration. He then snapped his mouth shut in surprise. Fandral had never told anyone that before. At Loki’s furrowed brow he continued, “Whenever I excuse myself from the warriors saying I am going to see a suitor, most of the time I am making an excuse to spend time with you! I thought perhaps you wouldn’t want the others to know the extent of our friendship, as you always act differently around them as opposed to when we are alone… My reputation protects me, just as yours does.”

The guarded expression on Loki’s face was starting to melt away once more but he set his jaw stubbornly and said, “I’m sure I do not know what you mean.”

Fandral sighed in exasperation, but he was not going to let Loki off that easily. “Do you truly think I cannot see how carefully you craft your own reputation? The trickster, the dark horse… the untouchable, aloof prince. But I know you better than that, Loki. And I know why you do it… because it’s the same reason that I do it, too. I project confidence and charm to protect my heart. If people expect me to only be with them for a short time, then they do not get hurt when I leave them and I am not disappointed when they turn out to be just like all the others… and no one suspects that perhaps there is only one to whom my heart already belongs.”

Silence fell between the two men, and only the trickling water of the stream and the gentle rustling of wind through leaves could be heard in the solitude of the secret garden. Fandral felt wrung out. He had confessed things to Loki that he had never revealed to anyone. But he was still unsure about what Loki was thinking and feeling. The prince was avoiding Fandral’s eyes, and his mouth was pulled into a thin, tense line.

“If you are rejecting my advances, I am sorry if I have caused you unnecessary discomfort,” Fandral said. His voice was even, but he felt as though the words caused him a physical pain to say. “I simply hope that we can still be friends, because I value your friendship more than anything…”

His words were interrupted by Loki starting to chuckle softly. The prince reached a hand up to cover his mouth with his fingers as his chuckles became louder. Fandral was completely flabbergasted.

I’m sorry, Fandral,” Loki said with a smile. “But if you truly knew me as well as you say, surely you should have noticed my feelings for you a lot sooner.”

Fandral felt completely off balance, “You… what?”

“You realise that you are the only person I have any meaningful interactions with outside of my family,” Loki said, his tone like someone speaking to a child, as though Fandral had missed something spectacularly obvious. “You… you are one of the most important people in my life, Fandral. Surely you see the significance of that?”

“I… yes, of course! But…”

Loki sighed and pushed his hair behind his ears impatiently, “I have told you things about myself that no one else knows, not even my mother. And… I let you see me at my weakest when I was injured on that raid. But more than that, you are the only one who actually noticed that anything was wrong at all. I let you help me when I was… vulnerable.”

Fandral felt as though he was seeing all these moments with new eyes. When they had been happening, he had only thought about what he himself was feeling. His concern for Loki and his affection for the prince, and his fear about Loki discovering his feelings. But he had not even considered how Loki would interpret their interactions, how he treated them as a complete anomaly in his life. Because they were. Fandral was the only one Loki had allowed to get so close to him. And the significance of that had been lost under Fandral’s own tumultuous emotions.

The small bloom of hope in Fandral’s chest began to spring to life once more, “Does this mean… Are you saying that you are amenable to me courting you?”

Loki smiled, a delicate lovely smile full of hope and a little bit of vulnerability, “Yes, you fool. I have been saying it for some time now, I thought. But…”

“What?”

Loki looked away again, suddenly shy once more, “I thought you were too preoccupied with your ‘dalliances’ to even consider me…”

Fandral felt like slapping himself on the forehead. What an absolute cad he had been! How ridiculous that they had both been hoping that the other felt the same way, but they had both worked so hard to conceal it! All at once, Fandral found the whole situation unbelievably absurd and began to laugh. How could they both be so clueless about each other? He covered his eyes with his hand, “Oh, my dear Loki. We have been fools, indeed!”

Loki began to laugh as well, and suddenly the tension of the past few minutes completely dissolved. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. Fandral decided that they both desperately needed a glass of wine, so he took up the pitcher and handed Loki a goblet. He poured them both a generous amount and touched his cup to Loki’s. They both took a gulp from their goblets as their laughter began to subside.

Loki sighed and said, “I’m sorry, Fandral.”

“Whatever for, my friend?”

Loki set his goblet down and met Fandral’s eyes, “I am sorry that I insulted the lovely picnic that you have arranged. It was wrong of me to put so much stock in the rumours and gossip about your personal affairs.”

Fandral’s heart felt as though it were going to melt at Loki’s sweetness. He shook his head at Loki’s apology, “Think nothing of it. I am sorry too. If I had realised… well, I wouldn’t have spent so much time chasing after meaningless conquests. Not only was it unfair to you, but it was also unfair to them as well.”

“It’s alright,” Loki replied softly, dropping his gaze back to the picnic.

Fandral realised that it wasn’t alright, clearly his penchant for flirtation had hurt Loki more than he ever thought possible. He berated himself once again for being such an insensitive ass, he would have to work hard to make things right. For now, however, Fandral pushed some of the platters of food towards Loki and said, “Enough of that, now. Come, eat! Let us enjoy this feast in the sunshine!”

Loki smiled shyly at him and reached for a plate. They each piled their plates up with food and began to eat in silence. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but it was not as easy and relaxed as things normally felt between them. Fandral could sense some lingering tension in the air but for once in his life, he was unsure how to proceed.

The feeling of being lost at sea in a romantic environment was very unfamiliar to Fandral. He hadn’t been unsure of himself in this kind of situation since he was a very young man, but Loki was so unlike any other person that Fandral had courted before. He always seemed to react the opposite way that Fandral expected. And while there had been a select few who had been very dear to him, Fandral had never felt this level of affection and attraction for anyone except Loki. Fandral took a few steadying breaths to calm his nerves and decided to wait for Loki to make the next move.

After a few minutes of slightly tense silence while they ate and inane small talk about the food and the weather, Fandral began to doubt his plan of waiting for Loki to make the next move. Was Loki was waiting for him to progress the conversation? Would they be awkwardly sitting in silence for the rest of lunch if Fandral continued to wait?

Fandral decided that he could stand the silence no longer so, while Loki finished his food, Fandral picked up his lute and began to pluck at the strings softly. Loki smiled at him as Fandral played some of his favourite folk tunes, though he kept making small mistakes whenever he glanced up to find Loki licking grape juice from his fingers or humming appreciatively around a particularly tasty morsel.

When Fandral plucked the last few notes from his lute, letting them ring out around the garden, Loki put down his plate to applaud. “You play so beautifully, Fandral,” he said.

Fandral bowed his head in acknowledgement, “Thank you, though I think I would be far more adept if I found time to practice more!”

Loki smiled at the self-deprecating joke but did not reply. Fandral was desperately thinking of something else to say to ease the tension between them when Loki sighed softly.

He looked up at Fandral, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, and spoke, “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I wonder… How is this going to work, Fandral? I mean, I have never been courted before, at least not like this…”

Fandral sighed through his nose and considered the question carefully, “Well, we will have to be cautious. I think we should not be particularly public about this… Not because I am ashamed of you or any such nonsense, but because I fear it to be dangerous for both of us.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, and Fandral loathed to have put that troubled look upon the prince’s face. But Loki was nodding, “Hmm, my father and brother… they wouldn’t approve. And besides, I do not want you subjected to ridicule…”

“Whatever do you mean, Loki?”

“The other warriors… they would never understand,” Loki replied, his restless fingers plucking at the blanket beneath them. “If they knew about this, they would taunt you as mercilessly as they do me. I have the ability to avoid their company but you… I wouldn’t want their ire fall upon you as well.”

Fandral smiled and shifted closer to Loki, catching the prince’s eyes when he looked up, “I appreciate that, but I would be alright if that ever happened. I would have you to support me!” Fandral felt pleased when Loki rewarded Fandral’s bravado with a smile and an eye roll. He chuckled slightly before continuing, “Nevertheless, we should be careful.”

“Indeed,” Loki said. His brow furrowed once again, and he seemed to be pondering something seriously. Fandral waited for him to continue. Loki clenched his jaw slightly but nodded to himself, as though coming to a decision, “You should keep up your ruse about your many conquests, Fandral.”

“Loki…” Fandral began, about to protest Loki’s words, but he was interrupted as the prince continued.

“It will be the best way to keep you from suspicion,” he said, still fiddling with the gold picnic blanket. “Besides, you were already using these made-up paramours to see me, so nothing will really change.”

Fandral hated the idea of lying about this, especially considering the hurt it seemed to cause Loki, but he agreed that it was more important for them to stay safe. He shifted closer again to Loki so that their knees were nearly touching and reached out to place a hand over Loki’s, stilling the nervous movements of his fingers. Fandral smiled at him, revelling in their closeness, and said with a flirtatious tone, “Well, I expect some things will change…”

Loki’s fingers stilled and he smiled his cursory lopsided smirk, “Oh, yes? What kinds of things, pray tell?”

Fandral chuckled and smiled as Loki’s delicate fingers curled up to clasp his hand deliberately. He felt giddy with happiness. Even this small touch was enough to make his nerve endings feel as though they were charged with electricity. Loki’s hand was cool in his despite the warm summer afternoon but this small connection made him ache for more.

Fandral hummed as though he was thinking very hard. “Hmm… Well, there will be things like this, for starters,” he said, gently squeezing their joined hands. “And things like this.” Fandral gently lifted their interlocked fingers until Loki’s hand was just in front his face.

He deliberately sought Loki’s gaze, silently seeking permission. Loki swallowed visibly and nodded. Fandral brought his lips down to the back of Loki’s hand, pressing a delicate kiss to his skin without taking his eyes off the prince. Loki’s eyelids fluttered slightly so Fandral kissed his hand again, breathing in the jasmine scent of him through his nose and revelling in the softness of Loki’s skin beneath his lips.

“And maybe,” Fandral continued, his voice shaky, as he lowered their joined hands and leaned towards Loki. “Maybe even this…”

Fandral felt himself being pulled towards Loki’s mouth and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He closed his eyes and leaned towards the prince, feeling a sense of anticipation in his gut at finally being able to taste Loki… but his mouth met smooth skin rather than the plush lips Fandral had been expecting. He leaned back and opened his eyes, finding that Loki had turned his head to the side at the last moment and his cheeks were flushed bright red.

Oh, you stupid fool, Fandral thought to himself as he pulled away to give Loki space, now look what you’ve done! I made him uncomfortable, I have rushed him…

“I am so sorry, Loki!” Fandral exclaimed, appalled at his own behaviour. “I didn’t mean to force myself on you…”

Loki shook his head quickly and grasped Fandral’s other hand, “No, Fandral, it’s alright! I’m the one who is sorry, I just… I thought it would be alright but…” Loki huffed in frustration and mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” Fandral asked quietly.

Loki ducked his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes and conceal his face, “I said, ‘Promise you won’t laugh at me’.”

“Oh, Loki,” Fandral said. His heart broke slightly at Loki’s insecurity and wondered not for the first time who had hurt Loki. Who would laugh at this beautiful person? Fandral untangled one of his hands from Loki’s grip and reached up to gently tuck the prince’s hair behind his ear. His hair was soft and silky between Fandral’s fingers as he reached around to clasp the back of Loki’s neck. “I would never laugh at you. And I promise, no question regarding this relationship is silly and you should always speak up if you are uncomfortable. I don’t want to ruin things between us… I would never want to hurt you, Loki.”

Loki looked up at Fandral from beneath his lashes and smiled a small, vulnerable smile. “Thank you. It’s just… I thought I was ready but then all of a sudden, I felt so overwhelmed. Things between us have changed so quickly and this is so different than anything I’ve ever… I mean, you are different, so I want things to be different. You mean a lot to me, Fandral, so I don’t want us to get carried away too quickly…”

“I understand completely,” Fandral said. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I was swept up in the moment, so to speak! Of course, we should take things slowly. Besides, you mean a lot to me too. And this connection between us… I believe it is special. And we should give it time to grow, do you agree?”

Loki looked at Fandral with shining eyes filled with hope. He nodded and reached up to brush his knuckles over Fandral’s cheek softly, “Yes, thank you for understanding.”

Fandral smiled in return and sighed at the sensation of Loki’s fingers brushing his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the contact, allowing himself to revel in the moment and tell himself that this was real. His thoughts were interrupted by the chiming of the bell marking that it was an hour past noon.

He drew his hand back slightly from around Loki’s neck and brushed his thumb over the prince’s jaw, before letting his hand fall away completely. Loki also drew his hand away from Fandral’s cheek and breathed a deep sigh. He squeezed Fandral’s hand one last time before moving away.

“I must go,” Loki said. “I am supposed to meet up with my brother and father to welcome some stuffy dignitaries to the palace, though why I am required to attend I have no idea.”

Fandral chuckled at Loki’s disgruntled expression, “Very well. Thank you for having lunch with me.”

Loki smiled and said quietly, “Thank you for inviting me.”

Fandral could not help smiling back at the prince, for his heart was full to bursting with joy. Before getting to his feet, however, Loki paused. Fandral was about to ask him what was wrong but then Loki held out a hand over the grass. His fingers danced through the air and the sweet scent of magic filled the garden. The tendrils of magic from Loki’s hand reached into the ground before and Fandral watched in awe as a single yellow rose grew rapidly out of the grass.

Loki smiled at his creation before gently plucking it from the ground. He bent his head to sniff the fragrant flower, before holding it out to Fandral.

“Consider this a token of my affections,” Loki said.

Fandral reached out and took the rose, his fingers brushing against Loki’s, “Thank you, Loki. It’s beautiful!”

Loki shrugged slightly awkwardly and said, “Well, so are you.”

Fandral could not help but chuckle affectionately as Loki blushed furiously. He ducked his head to spare Loki’s embarrassment under the pretence of inhaling the rose’s scent.

Loki cleared his throat and bowed slightly to Fandral. “Good day, Fandral,” he said, before heading towards the garden gate.

When Loki reached the hidden gate, he turned looked back at Fandral, who waved at the prince and called out in return, “Good day, Loki!”

After a small final wave, Loki disappeared through the rose trellis. Fandral felt himself break into a wide grin and he couldn’t stop the joyous laughter bubbling from his chest. He let himself fall back onto the blanket, laying down to look up at the flashes of blue sky between the gently wafting fronds of the willow tree. Fandral clutched the rose to his heart, and he shook his head at his behaviour; he was acting like a lovesick maiden! But after inhaling the sweet scent of the rose once more, Fandral really couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Chapter Text

Fandral lay in the queen’s garden for a while after Loki departed. Eventually, he realised that he should probably clean up the remains of their picnic before the queen decided to take a stroll through her garden and stumble upon him. The thought of trying to explain to Queen Frigga what he was doing in her private space was enough to break Fandral out of his Loki-induced reverie and spur him into action. He tucked the magically grown rose into the lapel of his surcoat before getting to work.

He quickly wrapped up the remainder of the food and rolled up the blanket, slinging his lute over his shoulder from its strap. With a last look around him to make sure nothing incriminating would be left behind, Fandral tucked everything under his arms and hurried from the garden. As he was rushing back to his chambers through some usually deserted back corridors of the palace, Fandral came across Volstagg and Hogun strolling in the other direction.

“Fandral!” Volstagg boomed, thoroughly ruining any hopes Fandral had of avoiding unnecessary attention. “How goes it, my friend!”

“Very well, Volstagg,” Fandral replied, turning on a charming smile. “What brings you to this deserted side of the palace?”

“We could ask you the same question,” Hogun said, eyeing Fandral’s bundles of food and picnic supplies with a raised eyebrow.

Fandral laughed, “Well, you could but you would receive no answer, for it would be unchivalrous to reveal the details of one’s conquests!”

“And since when are you chivalrous in your conquests?” Volstagg laughed. He clapped Fandral on the shoulder so hard that the smaller man nearly dropped some of his picnic bundles. “I remember you asking me about food for a picnic the other day. Did the lady enjoy the delicacies I suggested?”

“Firstly, I take great offence to such slander! I am certainly the most chivalrous of all of us!” Fandral protested with great bluster. He hoped that there was no outward sign in his expression indicating that his recent liaison was anything out of the ordinary. Fandral tried to calm his pounding heart and decided to reveal as little as possible. “But since you asked, yes, the picnic went very well indeed.”

“Of course it did! How could it be any other way when such delicious foods were set before her!” Volstagg said, eyeing up the bundles in Fandral’s arms with poorly concealed longing.

Fandral laughed at Volstagg’s vain attempt at subtlety, “There are some leftovers if you would be so good as to take them off my hands, Volstagg.” As Fandral handed some of the bundles over to Volstagg, who promptly unwrapped one and began devouring its contents, he reiterated his question. “Now you know why I am here, but you have not told me the reason for your presence in this empty corridor.”

Hogun shook his head at Volstagg’s antics before turning back to Fandral, “Perhaps you were so preoccupied with your picnic that you have forgotten. The delegation from Alfheim is arriving today, led by Freyr himself. He has come to see his sister, Freya, and to renew the alliance of the Light Elves with Asgard.”

“Ah, of course,” Fandral said. Now he remembered. When Loki had spoken earlier about the ‘stuffy dignitaries’ arriving, he hadn’t realised that the prince was talking about the Light Elves of Alfheim. By all accounts they were tall, fair, and notoriously beautiful. They were famed for their affinity with nature, fertility, and their vast knowledge of magic, but Fandral had never heard them being referred to as ‘stuffy’. Loki was probably the only one who would dare to think of them in such a way, most others were awed by their beauty and wisdom.

Hogun went on, “Only a select few warriors were required by the All Father to attend the arrival parade.”

“Yes, so we decided to take these quieter passages to avoid the chaos of the dignitaries’ procession,” Volstagg said through a mouthful of food. “But do not forget that there will be a grand welcoming feast this evening and we are expected to be there. Thank the fates for that, I say! I would hate to miss out on such an affair!”

“Yes, I remember now,” Fandral said, interrupting Volstagg before he could go on about the dishes he was most looking forward to, as he was wont to do. “Well then, I shall see you both at the feast tonight!”

The warriors bid farewell and continued on their way. It was very unlikely that Fandral would get a chance to speak to Loki at the feast, but he might be able to get a seat with a view of the royal table. Watching from a distance was better than not seeing the prince at all, in Fandral’s mind.

After returning the picnic supplies to their rightful places, Fandral spent the rest of the afternoon training by himself. He ran laps around the training grounds before practising his footwork on one of the obstacle courses. Fandral decided to train alone for the afternoon as he did not want to attract any undue attention to himself after seeing Loki earlier. He was sure that a ridiculous grin kept stealing onto his face whenever his thoughts strayed to the events of the picnic and the handsome prince he was now courting.

Thankfully, he was left largely to his own devices as many of the other warriors had abandoned their training to instead get an early start on the revelry in honour of the Alfheim dignitaries. After his training, Fandral went back to his chambers to have a bath and clean up for the evening’s festivities. He trimmed his beard and combed his hair so that not one strand was out of place, and picked out his finest tunic and surcoat. After a brief moment’s hesitation, Fandral tucked the magical rose into his lapel once more and made his way to the feast.

The grandest hall in the palace had been selected for the welcoming feast, but so many guests had been invited that the tables and benches had spilled out the open doors and onto the surrounding terraces. Fandral made his way through the giant golden doors of the hall, taking in the splendour of the great chamber.

The gilded walls were shining with a mixture of torchlight and magical illumination from hundreds of silver glowing orbs floating high up near the painted ceiling. Garlands of blossoms adorned the walls and were strung between many of the golden pillars. Each massive wooden table was decorated with twisted wreaths of greenery and flowers in honour of the Light Elves and were piled high with dishes of food. The hall was already filling up with Asgardian guests but the high table at the far end was empty.

As Fandral approached the far end of the hall, he could see that a number of tables on the left below the high table remained empty, reserved for the courtiers of the elven delegation. On the right, opposite the Light Elf tables, Fandral saw some familiar faces from the Aesir army, including Vali, Baldur, and Tyr. Amongst the crush of bodies, someone was waving at Fandral. He pushed closer to the waving person to discover that it was Sif beckoning him over to where she, Volstagg and Hogun were seated.

After some very loud greetings, Fandral found himself seated between Sif and Hogun, with Volstagg having perched himself precariously on the end of the bench seat next to Hogun. He was pleased to discover that he had a relatively unobstructed view of the high table where Loki and the royal family would be sitting. Volstagg was already loudly pronouncing how wonderful the feast looked when a chorus of horns interrupted the loud chatter in the hall.

Fandral craned his head to see over the crowded tables as the side doors to the great hall were pushed open. The procession of the Asgardian royals and their closest court advisors began to trail into the hall including Freya, the twin sister of the Light Elf king Freyr. The occupants of the hall began to cheer loudly when Thor, Odin and Frigga entered, but Fandral’s eyes were focused elsewhere. Behind them was Loki, who had an expression of intense boredom on his face.

Fandral could not help the smile that came over him as he watched Loki make his way to his seat beside Thor, who was waving and grinning at the crowd. Fandral laughed as he noticed Loki roll his eyes at Thor before slouching into his seat with an air of practised disdain.

But then Loki’s eyes found Fandral’s through the hubbub of the elven delegation’s arrival at the feast. It seemed to Fandral as though a magnetic force connected him to Loki across the hall and he felt captivated by Loki’s presence, even more than he usually did. Fandral watched the prince’s eyes soften and his lips pull up into a smirk upon spying him in the crowd, and Fandral nodded slightly at Loki in greeting. The prince tilted his head almost imperceptibly in response as Freyr took his seat between Odin and Freya at the high table.

Now that the Light Elf delegation was seated, Odin got to his feet. Almost immediately, the entire hall fell silent to hear the king speak.

“It is with great joy that I welcome you all here tonight,” said Odin, in a strong voice that echoed around the hall. “We are gathered to celebrate the coming together of two great peoples; Asgard and Alfheim. The alliance between Asgardians and Light Elves has been strong for many centuries, and over the coming week we will work to renew our vows of friendship and loyalty.” Odin raised his goblet towards Freyr. “I welcome you, Freyr of Alfheim, and all the elves who have accompanied you. We in Asgard look forward to many more years of solidarity and security between our worlds.”

Freyr raised his goblet in return and the hall cheered wildly until Odin raised a hand for quiet, “Let us not waste any more time in giving our friends a proper Asgardian welcome – Let the feast begin!”

More cheers erupted around the hall as everyone dug in. While everyone began piling their plates high with food, Fandral could not help gazing back at Loki. The prince was smiling at him before he tapped at his lapel with a raised eyebrow. Fandral clutched at the rose attached to his surcoat and winked at Loki, who promptly averted his gaze in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“You had better not be doing what I think you are doing, Fandral,” Sif scolded.

Fandral’s head whipped around to face her in shock. It had not even been one day yet and he had already been found out? But Sif did not look particularly worried, and she shook her head with exasperation at his bewildered expression.

“You should not be making eyes at that young lady next to Loki,” Sif continued with a knowing smirk. “That is Beyla, one of King Freyr’s most favoured courtiers. It is rumoured that since he has no daughter of his own, Freyr is trying to set up one of the most trusted members of his court with someone in Asgard to solidify the alliance.”

“From her placement at the high table, it seems the lord Freyr has his eye on the young Prince Loki as that someone,” Hogun said grimly.

“Ha!” Volstagg laughed. “Well good luck to her trying to get anywhere with our Loki! He sneers down his nose at any suitor who shows even a passing interest. And on the rare occasion that he condescends to grace them with his affection, rumour is that they are heartbroken within a week and flee from court in humiliation!”

“He is certainly not as… outgoing as Thor,” Sif said with reproach, a look of disappointment and derision in her eyes.

When Fandral looked back at the high table, he took in the scene surrounding Loki which he had been too distracted to register before. Thor was leaning past his brother to talk enthusiastically with the pretty elf woman seated beside Loki. Fandral hadn’t even noticed her, for he had been unable to tear his eyes away from Loki since the prince had entered, but he registered that she had delicate features and voluminous auburn hair. She had a garland of blossoms on her head and her pointed ears were dripping with jewellery.

She was certainly very pretty, but Fandral was more interested in the way Loki’s shoulders were set in a tense hunch. He was staring at the elf, Beyla, with barely concealed contempt while she smiled and batted her long eyelashes at him. It seemed Thor had taken much more interest in Beyla than Loki, and Sif was clearly not impressed.

Fandral tried to regain his footing in the conversation. His friends could not know that Beyla was not the one he had been winking and staring at. “There is nothing wrong with admiration from afar, Sif! She is very fair, indeed.”

Sif pointed a drumstick accusingly at Fandral, “Well, be sure that you remain very far while you admire her! The last thing we need is you causing trouble with the Elves while the peace is being renewed.”

Fandral tried to keep his face cheerful as the banter around him continued, but inside he felt an irrational amount of resentment towards this unknown elf woman who thought she was good enough for Loki. And throughout the feast, Fandral felt his eyes constantly being drawn back to Loki at the high table, and the auburn haired Beyla beside him who kept trying to place her hand on his arm or whisper into his ear.

Fandral knew that Loki did not like being touched at the best of times, and he could clearly see how uncomfortable she was making the prince. But Loki was attempting to smile at her and fend of her grabbing hands as gently as possible, though his smile looked more like a pained grimace than anything remotely pleasant. It seemed, however, that Thor had scolded his brother about being polite and was encouraging Loki to talk to Beyla as politely as possible.

He tried to catch Loki’s eye as the feast progressed, and every time the prince looked over at Fandral he would roll his eyes. Fandral tried to convey his sympathy and support through his expression, hoping to calm Loki and reassure him, but as the evening wore on Loki appeared to be getting more and more agitated.
Eventually, Loki rose from the table and excused himself with what appeared to be a terse farewell to Beyla and Thor. Fandral watched as Loki hopped down behind the raised platform where high table was perched and began to stalk towards the side doors of the hall.

Fandral quickly got to his feet and excused himself, saying that he was going over to pay his respects to the Elves at the opposite tables. He made his way through the elves, who had already been joined by a number of Asgardians, and slipped away behind the side doors. He found Loki leaning against the wall of the deserted corridor running his hands through his hair.

Fandral softly called Loki’s name to get the prince’s attention.

Loki turned towards him, “Fandral, what are you doing? You should not be here…”

“I had to see you, Loki,” Fandral replied, moving towards Loki until they were standing almost nose to nose. “I saw that elf woman hanging off you, and I knew you would be uncomfortable. I had to come and check on you, to make sure that you are alright.”

Loki smiled and released a long breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He gently took Fandral’s hand, “That’s very thoughtful of you… In truth, I’m glad you’re here. But we only have a short time, I said I needed the washroom as an excuse to get away.”

Fandral squeezed Loki’s hand, “Alright. But, in all honesty, I don’t really know what to say to you! I just knew I had to see you.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Loki said quietly. “It means a lot that you knew to come after me in the first place.” After a moment’s pause, Loki lifted his other hand and touched the rose tucked into Fandral’s lapel. “You’re wearing the flower I made you.”

“I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me,” Fandral said with a smile.

“Every time I look over at you in the great hall – well, it makes me happy to see you wearing it.”

Fandral cupped Loki’s wrist where his pale hand still rested against his chest. He was pleased by the way Loki smiled at him when Fandral moved to rub his thumb over the pulse point on the prince’s wrist.

But then Loki’s smile faltered, and he sighed sadly. “There is something I have to tell you. My father… he has given me many extra duties and told me of more events I must attend throughout the week while the Light Elves are here. I thought my presence would not be required as much as Thor’s… but it seems I was mistaken, or father has changed his mind. Either way, I fear I will not be able to see you much while the delegation is here.”

Fandral felt his stomach drop in disappointment. They had hardly even started their courtship and now he had to wait another week to see Loki? But Fandral pushed these thoughts aside at Loki’s crestfallen expression. He realised that the coming week was going to be much harder for the prince than it would be for him.

“Fear not, my dear Loki,” Fandral said. “Tis only one week, and I shall endeavour to be at any public events where you must make an appearance. That way you will know that if you need me, I will be there. And after the week is done, we can pick up where we left off earlier today.”

Loki smiled at Fandral’s words and huffed a small laugh of disbelief, “I appreciate that, Fandral. Know that I will seek you out amongst every crowd to bolster my resolve. Maybe with you there these ridiculous pageantry events will go quicker.”

Fandral felt at a loss for words. The thought that Loki would be looking for him at every event made him feel a strange sense of privilege. He thought of Beyla and all the others who tried to get Loki’s attention, and it brought him great joy to think that Loki would be looking only for him.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Loki rolled his shoulders and said sadly, “I should go. I must get back to the feast, lest Beyla sends out a search party for me.”

“My goodness, we cannot have that!” Fandral exclaimed in mock horror, making Loki chuckle.

Then Loki moved closer and wrapped his arms around Fandral’s shoulders, pulling him into a gentle embrace. He spoke into Fandral’s ear, sending shivers down Fandral’s spine, “Thank you again for finding me out here, and for offering to attend all those dull events just to see me.”

For a moment Fandral just stood in the circle of Loki’s arms, frozen in shock. But then the soft words Loki spoke in his ear loosened his limbs and he brought his hands up to clutch at Loki’s back, pulling the prince closer.

“You’re most welcome,” Fandral replied just as softly. “But I would attend endless feasts, speeches, and tourneys just to be in your presence.”

Fandral felt Loki’s smile where the prince had pressed his face into his shoulder. He gave Fandral a final squeeze before pulling away, “I look forward to seeing you soon.”

Fandral was about to say something in reply when Loki ducked forwards quickly and kissed Fandral on the cheek. He saw Loki blush all the way to his ears before brushing past and re-entering the feasting hall.

Fandral couldn’t help the huge grin that spread over his face, and he even let out a joyous laugh which echoed through the empty corridor. He was so happy that Fandral found he had to wait a few minutes to compose himself before moving back to re-join the feast. It was going to be a long week without meeting up with Loki, but the promise of things to come once the week was over kept Fandral smiling from ear to ear until the end of the evening.

Chapter Text

As the feast wore on and the guests became increasingly inebriated, Fandral found himself wedged under Thor’s arm as the blonde prince raised his tankard for yet another incoherent toast in honour of the elven delegation. Some time before, Fandral had noticed Loki slipping away from the festivities with a subtle smile and small wave. Now that Loki had left, Fandral was finding it difficult to think of a reason to stay at the increasingly raucous feast, but he knew he had to stay for a least a while longer to maintain his preciously cultivated reputation.

During a brief break in the loud toasting and drinking songs that were beginning to break out across the hall, Fandral leaned close to Thor and raised his voice to be heard, “I saw you talking with that elf woman who was seated next to Loki earlier this evening.”

Thor deposited his empty tankard roughly on the table in front of them and ran the back of his hand over his lips, “Indeed! The Lady Beyla, she was seated there with the intention to attract Loki’s attention, but I figured that I had better step in to entertain her as Loki was not interested in keeping her amused.”

“So, he shows her no favour, but she still persists nonetheless?” Fandral asked, trying to keep the irritation he was feeling out of his voice.

“Well, I suppose that is to be expected with these types of things,” Thor shrugged as his tankard was refilled. “She has her instructions and Loki has his, though the only difference is that I doubt my brother will listen to the suggestions of the All Father. So, I shall endeavour to keep the lady entertained over the course of the week if Loki remains stubbornly impolite. It would not do for her to tell Freyr about how inhospitable the Asgardian princes are! We have reputations to uphold!”

Fandral tried to cover the grimace he could feel tugging at his mouth by turning it into something resembling a smile. “Indeed, we do,” he said, knowing full well that the only reason he remained at the feat was to maintain appearances.

Thor seemed to mistake the consternation in Fandral’s voice for something else entirely as a sly smile spread over his face. He leaned in close to Fandral and said in conspiratorial tone, “I am sure the Lady Beyla would appreciate your efforts to make her feel welcome also, Fandral.”

At Fandral’s slightly incredulous expression, Thor smiled knowingly (though the effect was somewhat ruined by his drunkenly flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes) and said, “Volstagg was telling me how you could hardly take your eyes off her all evening! Ha! You are so predictable my friend! Show you a pretty face and forget yourself entirely! Just try not to get too serious with her, for that can only spell disaster for us all.”

“I understand Thor,” Fandral said with the kind of solemnity that only the truly drunk would ever find convincing. “I will strive to charm her, but no more than that. You have my word.”

Beside Fandral and Thor, Volstagg (who had vaguely turned in their direction at the sound of his name) belched loudly and guffawed, “Fear not, Thor! I do not doubt Fandral’s word in this matter, for he is already swept up in a brand-new romance with a mysterious maiden which I suspect he would not wish to ruin! He had a picnic with her this very day, but he would not tell us anything about her!”

“How intriguing!” Thor said, clapping Fandral on the shoulder. “Well, I can rest easy then. It would not do to make the new lady jealous, eh Fandral?”

“No indeed, that would be unthinkable,” Fandral said. He thought back to the look on Loki’s face when he spoke about Fandral’s conquests. He had looked so hurt and Fandral swore to himself that he would do everything that he could to reassure Loki of his affections.

But this was the perfect cover for him to see Loki over the coming week, as wherever he was Beyla was sure to be there too. So Fandral asked Thor about the planned appearances of Beyla, and therefore Loki, under the guise of wishing to meet the elven lady. Thor happily provided a list of events without suspecting the real reason Fandral wanted to attend them all. On one hand, Fandral disliked lying to his friends but on the other, he knew what was at stake. He would not risk Loki’s safety or reputation for anything.

Over the next few days, Fandral showed up without fail at every event where Loki was expected to be present. The day after the feast, there was a large market set up in the palace grounds to show off Asgard’s finest craftsmen, with everything from weaponry to baked goods. After ceremonially opening the market, the royal party and the elven dignitaries wandered the stalls, giving Fandral an opportunity to slip Loki some of his favourite cinnamon rolls with a suggestive (but anonymous) note attached. The smile on Loki’s face at receiving his favourite treat was worth all the sneaking around Fandral had to do to get the pastries to him through the crowd of elves, guards, and Asgardian royalty.

He also attended a performance of the most proficient bards and performers from both the Asgardian and Light Elf courts, where Fandral was able to sneak away to briefly meet Loki between entertainers. At every other event, however, it was impossible to get close to the prince and the ever-present Lady Beyla. There were speeches, dances, and gift-giving ceremonies, but Fandral had to content himself with watching Loki from afar for most of the week.

In between all these events, the elven and Asgardian courts were whisked away into meetings to finalise the renewal of the peace agreement. During these times, Fandral had to put up with the teasing of his friends about his mysterious maiden and the way he was apparently following the Lady Beyla around like a lovesick pup. He knew they were only teasing him in a good-natured friendly manner, but Fandral was already on edge regarding his new relationship with Loki and the stresses of the delegation made it hard for him to see the humour behind their playful mocking.

On the second-to-last day of the Alfheim delegation’s stay in Asgard, there was a demonstration tourney set up for the Aesir warriors to show off their skills, which Fandral was roped into competing in.

Before the competition, Fandral wished that he could ask Loki for a token of his favour to wear, but he thought it would be too suspicious and pushed down his disappointment. However, much to his surprise, a squire came up to him in the warmup tents and presented him with a green silk scarf with gold embroidery along the edges. The squire announced that the favour had been left for Fandral anonymously, so of course the other warriors assumed it was from the unknown maiden that he had been courting. Fandral tied the favour around his arm with a sly smile, letting his compatriots tease him and fall over themselves trying to guess who it could be.

It was no surprise that Thor was victorious in almost every event of the tourney, except for finesse events like archery or those that took place on horseback (which Fandral and Sif were more adept at). Despite Thor’s unsurprising dominance of the tourney, it was not the outcome of the competition that was causing Fandral agitation. Rather, it was the way the Lady Beyla was constantly hanging off Loki’s arm without any regard for the prince’s obvious discomfort and barely repressed ire.

The elf woman had been making a spectacle of herself all week, in Fandral’s opinion. Wherever Loki was, she was barely two steps behind him and ready with a tittering laugh or to lay a hand upon the prince’s arm. Loki put up with her advances with more patience than Fandral had expected, though he supposed the diplomatic nature of the situation was prompting Loki to be on his best behaviour. But he noticed the tense line of Loki’s shoulders whenever she stood too close or the scowl on his face as soon as Beyla turned away.

By the time tourney was over, Fandral was using all his willpower to contain his irritation regarding Beyla. Every time he snuck a glance at Loki, she was whispering in his ear. And what was worse, Loki actually appeared to be listening to her for once! He had even seen Loki whispering back to her with his head bowed close to hers.

Logically, Fandral knew that Loki was probably only trying to be polite, but it irked him nonetheless. Fandral wondered what they could possibly be talking about that had Loki so engaged. But he tried to push down his annoyance as the tourney came to a close and he made his way back to the group of small tents where the warriors were all beginning to shed their armour gratefully.

As Fandral was wriggling out of his armour with the help of a squire, a pageboy trotted into the dusty courtyard filled with tents. He came up to Fandral and said breathlessly, “The Lady Beyla has asked to see you, Master Fandral.”

Fandral blinked owlishly at the red-faced page. He had not expected that. What could Beyla possibly want with him? Despite the beliefs of his friends, Fandral had not made any attempts to introduce himself to her. Perhaps she noticed his loitering? Maybe she thought, like everyone else, that she was the one Fandral had been staring at all week rather than the dark-haired prince next to her.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Volstagg cheered and said loudly, “Ha ha! It seems all your hovering these past days has paid off, Fandral!”

At Volstagg’s words, and the resulting cheers from the surrounding warriors, Fandral shook himself out of his shock and plastered on a charming grin, “Wonderful! Allow me to freshen up in my tent and then I shall gladly meet with the lady. Where might I find her?”

“Lady Beyla has expressed a wish to take a turn about the grounds with you, sir. She wishes to meet you by the Nixie fountain,” the page said.

“I will be there forthwith!” Fandral declared. Before his friends could halt him and ask too many questions, Fandral returned to his tent and immediately began to clean himself up at the small washbasin within.

He may not have any designs towards the Lady Beyla, but he would never present himself to a lady covered in sweat and dirt. Fandral was unsure what exactly the elf woman might want, but he was determined to be ready for anything. After wavering for a moment, Fandral picked up the scarf Loki had sent him as his favour and tied it loosely around his neck. He felt more ready to face the unknown with a small piece of Loki close to him, and Fandral vowed to himself that he would protect Loki no matter what the conversation might bring.

Chapter Text

After dressing in a light tunic to combat the warm weather, Fandral made his way to one of the more private gardens in the palace and towards the marble fountain featuring dancing mermaids, fish, and dolphins. Beside the fountain was Beyla, who was wearing a dress made from such light layers of material that it shimmered and whispered when she moved. The multitude of thin layers in the dress were made from fabric of varying shades of green and brown, with what appeared to be real flowers blooming throughout the skirts and bodice. Blossoms were woven through her auburn hair and her eyelids shimmered with green and gold makeup.

Fandral could not deny that the lady was truly beautiful, and he had no doubt that if he had met Beyla only a week or two ago he would have tried to woo her in earnest. Things could change so quickly, however, and now Fandral only looked at her with a sense of cool detachment despite her good looks. He only had eyes for Loki, and since Beyla was currently making Loki’s life difficult, Fandral could feel a scowl tugging at his brow as he approached her.

Despite his wariness, Fandral dipped into a shallow bow and tried to arrange his face into a pleasant smile. He said in as cordial a tone as he could muster, “Good day, Lady Beyla! I heard that you wished to see me and take a turn about the gardens. My name is Fandral, though I suppose you were already aware of that, since you are the one who summoned me.”

Beyla raised an eyebrow slightly at the curt undertone to Fandral’s words, but she smiled sweetly and said in a musical voice, “Indeed, Sir Fandral. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. You are not a stranger to me, for I have seen you many times from afar these last few days and I knew I simply must make your acquaintance.”

Her words gave very little away, so Fandral decided to play into the assumptions about his attendance at the Alfheim delegation events. He stepped forwards and took her hand to brush his lips against her knuckles, “I have seen you many times also, and I confess that I had hoped my constant presence would attract your attention so that I might be introduced to you at last.”

Beyla smiled sweetly at him as Fandral released her hand, but her eyes seemed to hold a steady, evaluating edge. “Come, walk with me,” she said, holding out hand in invitation. “The grounds are so beautiful, and the day still holds plenty of promise.”

Fandral hesitated for a brief moment, before holding out his arm for her to take, “It would be my honour.”

Beyla’s smile grew at his acquiescence, and she rested her hand delicately in the crook of Fandral’s arm. They had only taken a few steps when Fandral felt a jolt of electricity zap under his skin where Beyla was holding onto his arm, and he noticed the air around them begin to shimmer as though he were looking through a bubble of heat haze.

“What the…” Fandral began, feeling panic rising in his chest. Had Beyla just cast a spell on him?

“Worry not, Sir Fandral,” Beyla interrupted. “I have simply placed a small charm over us so that any eavesdroppers cannot hear our conversation.”

Fandral tried to clamp down on his growing unease, “And why would we not want to be overheard?”

“Because what I want to discuss with you is of a personal and private nature,” Beyla said, her tone remaining even and pleasant despite the foreboding Fandral felt at her words. “And it concerns the young Prince Loki.”

Fandral felt his blood run cold, but he tried to remain impassive as he said, “I mean no disrespect to yourself or the prince, but what could you possibly have to say about him that would be of consequence to me?”

Beyla smiled again, though this time Fandral could not help but think that it made the elven woman look predatory, “Well, you have hardly been able to take your eyes off him all week, Sir Fandral. I thought that indicated a certain level of attachment which would mean you are interested in any news about the prince.”

Fandral’s breath stuttered in his lungs, but he tried to cover it with an incredulous cough. There was no way Beyla knew anything about him and Loki… was there? He continued to try playing dumb, “Ah, I am not sure what you mean by that, Lady Beyla. It is true that Prince Loki and I have been friends for a long time but…”

“It’s alright, I know you’ve been going to all the delegation events to see Loki,” Beyla interrupted him again. “And I also know that you have let your friends think that I was the subject of your scrutiny the whole time.”

Fandral stopped walking, pulling Beyla to a halt as her arm was still wound around his. He looked Beyla in shock. He felt numb all over, surely his new relationship with Loki could not be in danger before it had even truly begun?

When Fandral stopped walking, Beyla turned to him and looked him over. She must have seen the mixture of shock, fear, and dread on Fandral’s face as she began to shake her head frantically.

“Oh no, worry not, Sir Fandral! I will not tell anyone. Here, I should have given this to you before we started talking,” Beyla said, pulling a roll of parchment out from somewhere amongst her many skirts. “I did not mean to cause you any distress.”

Fandral narrowed his eyes at the parchment, regarding it suspiciously as though it might jump up at him or explode. He took the parchment after a moment’s hesitation and broke the seal. His eyebrows began to rise as he discovered who it was from.

“This is a letter from Loki,” Fandral observed with equal amounts of surprise and disbelief.

But Beyla only nodded, “Indeed. Please, open it and perhaps the prince can reassure you himself.”

Fandral narrowed his eyes at the elf woman suspiciously but began to look over the letter. It appeared to be in Loki’s hand, but Fandral knew better than to blindly trust the authenticity of the letter, given what was at stake. It was entirely possible to forge a document using magical means, so Fandral read through the letter to gauge the validity of its contents.

Dear Fandral,

I hope that this letter finds you well and that I have done the right thing in trusting Beyla. But, in the event that she gives this letter to anyone other than you, the parchment will burst into flames and our secrets will remain secure (one of my more ingenious charms, I must admit).

I have entrusted this letter with Beyla to give to you as she has many interesting things to say, and I entreat you to listen to her with an open mind. In truth, I did not believe her at first, but I am now fairly certain that she is in earnest and has no designs to reveal our secrets.

I confess that I had an ulterior motive to write you this letter. I desire to meet you tomorrow night, after the farewell feast and the departure of the Alfheim delegation. Once the elves are gone, come to the location of our picnic last week and we shall meet. I have seen you from afar for most of the week and I greatly appreciated the delivery of my favourite treats at the market. I cannot wait to be in your presence once more.

Yours always,
Loki

Fandral read the letter a few times and he became more convinced by the letter’s legitimacy every time he read it. The false modesty at the beginning about his ingenious spell seemed particularly in character for the prince, and his references to the picnic in the secret garden seemed convincing also. But the main thing that persuaded Fandral that the letter truly was from Loki was the mention of the cinnamon rolls that he managed to sneak to the prince early in the week.

While Fandral read the letter, Beyla waited patiently beside him without saying a word. After carefully refolding Loki’s letter, Fandral returned his gaze to the elf woman and said, “Is this what you two were whispering about during the tourney? Conspiring to send me a message?”

Beyla tilted her head in consideration, “I’m not sure that I would say ‘conspiring’, exactly. More like collaborating.”

Fandral shook his head, he felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. He sighed in frustration, “I must confess, Lady Beyla, I am thoroughly confounded. Please, tell me what in the name of Yggdrasil is going on!”

To add to Fandral’s confusion, Beyla regarded him with what appeared to be genuine concern, “I shall tell you everything. Let’s sit down.”

She turned them back towards the Nixie fountain where she perched on the edge of the marble pool. Fandral practically collapsed onto the stone wall gratefully, he feared that his legs would have given out in shock at any moment had he not sat down soon.

“I am sorry, Sir Fandral, for causing you pain,” Beyla said after arranging her skirts around her. “I should have been clearer with you. Loki sent me to see you. He wanted me to deliver his message.”

“Why would Loki give you a letter for me? After the way you have been fawning over him all week, I would have thought you’d be disappointed to learn that he was not interested,” Fandral said, unable to keep the scorn out of his voice.

Instead of getting angry or even bursting into tears like many ladies would after being spoken to in such a manner, Beyla simply smiled sadly and dropped her gaze down to her lap. She sighed and said, “It is true, I have made something of a spectacle of myself over the last few days. But let me explain, please.”

Despite himself, Fandral was intrigued by what Beyla could have to say. It seemed that she was not at all the way he had imagined her to be after watching her with Loki from afar. Fandral nodded for the elf lady to continue.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, King Freyr and I are very close, and he has taken it upon himself to find me a suitable partner – someone he thinks worthy of joining his court and who will treat me well. He has been trying to put me in the path of suitors he thinks would be appropriate for some time, and Loki is only the latest… What Freyr does not know is that I cannot marry any of the men he has tried to present me with – because I already love someone.”

Fandral eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, “Truly? You are already in love?”

At the thought of her loved one, Beyla’s face lit up and she became more radiant than she had ever been throughout the whole week. Beyla said warmly, “Indeed. His name is name is Byggvir, and he is also a member of Freyr’s court. I think, unfortunately, that Freyr has been so busy trying to find me a suitable match outside of Alfheim that he has not stopped to consider that the one for me might be staring him directly in the face!”

“But what of Loki?” Fandral asked. “What about the show you have been making of trying to get his attention?”

Beyla’s cheeks pinked slightly but she shrugged her shoulders with indifference, “Well, I had to make it seem as though I was genuinely trying to win his affection, did I not? Freyr has been so kind to me, taking me into his service. I would not want him to think me ungrateful…”

“So, you have been lying to him instead?” Fandral asked, slightly incredulous.

“I will be the first to admit that things have gotten slightly out of hand,” Beyla confessed with a sigh. “Anyway, after a day or two of me fawning over Prince Loki, he got so fed up that he rejected my advances rather insistently. To prevent him from making a scene amongst the royals and dignitaries, I took him aside and explained that, meaning no disrespect, I am not interested in Loki at all. I told him of Byggvir and Freyr’s wishes, which perhaps was not the smartest thing to do. I think I have just become fed up with the deceit. If it had not been for Loki’s understanding, I could be in a lot of trouble. He could have ruined me…”

“Loki would never do such a thing,” Fandral said vehemently. “He may have a reputation for trickery and mischief, but he would not put someone in danger like that.”

“I quite agree with your assessment, especially since we are sitting here discussing it so openly,” Beyla said with a smile. “So, to make a long story short, while Freyr was perhaps hoping for an alliance between Alfeim and Asgard if Loki and I could come to an arrangement, we came to rather a different agreement instead. I would continue to put on a show of wooing him, and Loki would be civil. But then we would part ways as nothing more than acquaintances. After a few more days, we formed a kind of uneasy bond. I decided to tell Loki that I had noticed you watching him, which was when he confessed to me who you were and how special you are to him. Though he only revealed that to me after I made a vow to say nothing about it to anyone. And I am a lady of my word, I promise you that.”

Fandral scrubbed a hand over the whiskers on his chin, still mystified by the turn his conversation with Beyla had taken. This was absolutely not what he had been expecting. He had though that perhaps the elf lady had found out about him and Loki and was going to blackmail them or threaten them. He had not considered that she might find herself in a similar situation.

“So, Loki gave you the letter for me to clear things up between the three of us?” Fandral asked curiously. It did seem like something Loki would do. He liked to be subtle and stealthy to achieve his ends rather than direct, so it was not beyond the realm of possibility that the prince would engineer a chance for the truth to come out in a somewhat orchestrated manner.

Beyla shook her head, seemingly at a loss, “I honestly do not know why he decided to entrust me with the letter. He said that there were few people he could trust with his secret, but I am sure that he would have been able to get a message to you via magical means without the need for a messenger… I think it is possible that he wanted us to speak and to come to some kind of understanding – but you surely know him better than I.”

“Well, Loki certainly has a flair for the dramatic. It would not surprise me if he choreographed this whole situation so we could talk,” Fandral stopped as another thought occurred to him, and he felt his cheeks heat a little. At Beyla’s questioning eyebrow and sly smile, he decided he could not hide anything from this shrewd elven woman. He continued, “It is also entirely possible that he knew it would frustrate me to see the way you have been acting around him all week…”

“He knows you are a jealous type, you mean?” Beyla asked with a cheeky smile, her tone as mischievously innocent.

Fandral scoffed at her teasing, “Hardly! Fandral the Dashing does not get jealous!”

At his bluster, Beyla burst into a fit of giggles. Her good humour was contagious and soon Fandral was laughing heartily along with her. After sobering slightly, he said, “Alright, perhaps I was a little put out by your display. But not because I thought Loki would be unfaithful or anything like that! It was more because I knew that your advances would be unwelcome, and I dislike the thought of him being uncomfortable or in distress.”

Beyla let her giggles fade away and gazed a Fandral with a kind smile. She put her hand upon his forearm and said, “That is very thoughtful of you, Sir Fandral. Most men would simply be possessive over their loved one no matter how irrational the jealousy really was.”

“Well, maybe I was feeling slightly possessive also,” Fandral replied with a chuckle.

“Nevertheless,” Beyla continued, squeezing his arm. “It is a very fine thing to care so deeply about the prince’s feelings. I get the impression that many do not see what lies beneath his prickly exterior.”

Fandral nodded sadly. He placed his hand over the one Beyla had resting on his arm, “You are a very perceptive woman, Lady Beyla. You have only been here a week and already you seem to know Loki better than many who have known him for years.”

Beyla nodded and smiled sympathetically, “It comes with the territory of life at court, I suppose. It pays to be a good judge of character and to understand delicate situations.”

Fandral hummed in agreement, “However, if I may say, for one so perceptive you appear to be at a loss regarding your own situation, my lady.”

“I am aware,” Beyla said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I suppose it is different when you are seeing something from within – it is difficult to find the solution to one’s own problems as opposed to helping others with theirs.”

“If I may be so bold, I think the solution is rather straightforward,” Fandral replied. At Beyla’s questioning look he went on, “You must tell Freyr the truth. If he cares for you as much as you say, I am sure he would rather know that you are being honest with him. And if Byggvir is truly worthy of your affections, then I think the two of you have nothing to fear from the king.”

Beyla smiled ruefully and sighed, “Wise words, Sir Fandral. I think you are right, but I have been too afraid to disappoint the king that I could not see the answer staring me in the face.” Beyla paused for a moment and then grasped Fandral’s hands in her own, “I am glad we had the chance to meet. I doubt we will have another opportunity to talk so candidly before the delegation departs, but I hope to see you again.”

“Likewise, Lady Beyla,” Fandral said warmly. It was curious how his perception of her had changed so quickly. At first, he had been suspicious of Beyla’s desire to meet, but now Fandral looked upon her with a genuine affection that was wholly unexpected. He brought her hand up to his lips to kiss her knuckles once more and said, “It has been an honour getting to know you better.”

With that, Beyla got to her feet, “You and Prince Loki are very lucky to have each other. I hope you cherish that connection and allow it to bloom into something beautiful – but I fear I must caution you to the dangers and trials that await you both. Pursuing this love will not be easy…”

“Nothing worth having is easy,” Fandral said with conviction, also getting to his feet. “And Loki is worth more than anything to me. But I appreciate your concern.”

“In that case, I wish you both every happiness,” Beyla said, waving her hands. Suddenly, the bubble of magic surrounding them dissolved and sounds from the garden came rushing back. Beyla dipped into a curtsey and said her farewells, before walking back towards the palace.

Chapter Text

After Beyla departed, Fandral sat by the fountain for a few minutes and replayed the conversation over in his head. He had thought that Beyla wanted to see him because she had found something out. He had feared that she wanted to threaten him, or worse threaten Loki. But her understanding and compassion had taken Fandral by surprise.

Though perhaps it shouldn’t surprise him that Beyla, and likely many others, were in the very same situation that Loki found himself in. Fandral was glad that Loki had made an acquaintance out of Beyla, but he still worried about how the prince was holding up after a whole week of family duties and public appearances.

Fandral reached into his coat pocket and took out the note Loki had written him. He pored over the swirling loops of Loki’s fine handwriting, looking for any further meaning in the letter. It didn’t seem like Loki was overly distressed, but Fandral did feel as though he could detect fatigue in the prince’s words.

Despite his concern for Loki, Fandral could not help the smile spreading over his face as he reread the last part of Loki’s letter. I cannot wait to be in your presence once more, Loki said in the final line. Those words warmed Fandral’s heart, and he felt the stress from the last few days lift just a fraction.

“Ho ho, Fandral! We have found you at last!”

The sound of Volstagg’s booming voice startled Fandral from his reverie and he looked up from Loki’s letter to see Volstagg, Sif, and Hogun approaching. He quickly rolled up the letter and stuffed it back in his coat as the other three drew near.

“I say, my friend, what was in that parchment that has you smiling so?” Volstagg asked.

“Perhaps a message from Beyla?” Sif interjected with a wry smile. “Something to remember her by?”

Fandral chuckled as he got to his feet, waggling his eyebrows playfully at his friends, “Wouldn’t you all like to know? But the time Lady Beyla and I spent together, however brief it may have been, will remain a beautiful private memory.”

Hogun chuckled and shook his head at Fandral’s bravado, “I take it your liaison with her was pleasant?”

“It was. Even more so than I anticipated, in fact,” Fandral replied.

“So, you managed to get through the week without doing something to get us in trouble with the elves?” Sif inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, the week is not yet out, my good lady Sif! I am sure there is still much trouble to be found at the farewell feast tomorrow,” Fandral joked, prompting the others to laugh. “But in all seriousness, I have respected the limitations instilled upon me as requested. I am glad I was able to make Lady Beyla’s acquaintance despite the restriction on my behaviour. She is a very charming woman.”

“Your mystery lady must also be very charming for you to give up on the beautiful elf so easily,” Hogun observed with a raised eyebrow.

Fandral chuckled, hoping it came across as confident rather than strained, “While there is merit in your suggestion, Hogun, I protest the idea that I have given up! Rather, I have achieved my desire of having a private audience with Beyla, and I am thoroughly satisfied by our encounter.”

“Well, I am glad one of us is satisfied! I for one am not, as my stomach has been growling for fifteen minutes as we tried to find you!” Volstagg declared. “Come! The tourney is concluded, it is time for a hearty lunch!”

Soon enough, Fandral found himself talking and laughing with his friends over lunch, but the excitement at seeing Loki the next day was never far from his thoughts.

Fandral was restless the following day as time seemed to drag slowly on. By the time the evening feast arrived, Fandral was so excited that he could hardly keep himself from fidgeting in his seat all night. He discreetly observed the high table where Beyla and Loki were seated side by side.

Even from a distance, Fandral could see the happy glint in Loki’s eyes whenever their gazes met. He also smiled at Beyla and raised his goblet towards her with a grateful nod. She smiled back at him and tipped her goblet in return, before turning to Loki and murmuring something in his ear. Whatever she said, it made Loki look up at Fandral with a lopsided smirk. Fandral tried to glare back at the conniving pair, but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts.

By the end of the feast, when all the speeches had finished and the elven delegation had begun preparing to depart, the other warriors were teasing Fandral about the cheeky games he had been playing with Beyla across the hall. Fandral could do little but chuckle wryly at their assumptions. It certainly made it easier to conceal his true intentions when they insisted on giving him such obvious excuses.

After the feast, the Asgardians lined the great hall and the streets outside to bid farewell to the Alfheim guests. As the procession made their way through the hall, Fandral made sure to catch Beyla’s eye and smile at her once more. She smiled back, but then made her way over to him deliberately.

When she reached him, Beyla held out her hand for Fandral to take and said, “It was a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Fandral. I hope we can keep in touch.”
Fandral reached out to grasp her hand and kiss it. As he did so, he felt her slip a small note into his palm. Fandral raised an impressed eyebrow as he released her hand. He bowed and said, “The pleasure was all mine, Lady Beyla. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Beyla dipped into a curtsey and winked at him before re-joining the Alfheim procession. Fandral quickly slipped the note into his pocket as Hogun and Volstagg swiftly accosted him with questions and innuendos regarding Beyla’s behaviour.

It took Fandral a while to excuse himself from his friends, as the festivities continued long after the delegation had departed. In Fandral’s experience, there was nothing Asgardians liked more than an all-night party. After his brief encounter with Beyla and the departure of the Light Elves, Fandral had lost sight of Loki at the party. Thor, on the other hand, was easy to spot as he was right in the middle of a circle of warriors as the drinking games began.

By the time Fandral reached the queen’s garden, he was unsurprised to find Loki already waiting there under the willow tree.

At the sight of Loki, a beautiful contrast of pale skin and dark hair in the moonlight, Fandral felt his breath exhale in a happy sigh. He was still dressed in his green and silver finery from the feast, and he cut a striking figure under the shadows of the tree. Loki stood up from the stone bench he had been seated on and shifted from one foot to the other, the smile on his face lighting up the whole garden. Fandral grinned back and hurried towards the prince.

When he was finally standing in front of Loki after a whole week of distance, Fandral found himself hesitating. He wanted to take Loki in his arms, but he didn’t know whether that kind of familiar touch would be appreciated. Instead, Fandral grasped Loki’s hands in his own with a desperation that he was himself surprised at.

“Loki,” Fandral breathed as he drank in the sight of the prince. He was sure that he had more to say than that, but he found himself caught up in the icy blue of Loki’s eyes, the delicate flutter of his dark eyelashes against his pale cheeks, and the enticing pink of his lips…

“Fandral,” Loki replied in the same breathless tone of voice, a gentle smile crinkling his face sweetly.

Fandral huffed a laugh, “I feel as though we are usually more eloquent than this.”

Loki chuckled in return and tilted his head forwards until their foreheads touched. Loki breathed in deeply and let out a heavy sigh, “I have been choosing my words so carefully all week, but now I can finally say the one word that has been replaying over and over in my head.”

Fandral’s brow crinkled in confusion, and he was sure Loki felt it where their foreheads were touching gently. Loki closed his eyes and his shoulders seemed to relax as he repeated one word.

“Fandral…”

Before he knew what he was doing, Fandral pulled Loki into a tender embrace. He ran a hand over the prince’s back as he inhaled Loki’s sweet jasmine scent. As they held each other, all the tension drained out of both men. Not a word was said, but the silence was not uncomfortable and Fandral did not feel the need to fill it like he usually did. He didn’t know how long they simply stayed in each other’s arms, but eventually they both pulled back a short way, though neither one let go entirely.

Loki looked down and cleared his throat, a slight blush on his cheeks, “I have never really enjoyed or craved physical contact… but I must admit, I feel as though I really needed that hug.”

“Well, I could certainly get used to that,” Fandral chuckled. “I, for one, love a good hug.”

“I suppose that works out advantageously for all parties involved then,” Loki replied with a wry smile.

Fandral took a step back and took a moment to drink in the details of Loki’s face up close. Although he was always beautiful in Fandral’s eyes, he noticed that the prince had dark circles under his eyes and his expression was drawn with weariness.

He cupped Loki’s cheek and said, “Forgive me, but you look exhausted, my friend. I thought I had detected how draining this week had to have been for you, but now that you are before me, I worry that I should not keep you too long tonight. Maybe you would prefer to rest…”

Loki sighed and closed his eyes. After a moment’s pause, he opened them again and looked at Fandral with something that resembled wonder, “You really do know me very well, Fandral. And I am very tired, but I wanted to see you very much. I have missed you this past week.”

“I have missed you also,” Fandral said. “But we can see each other another time if you are too tired…”

Loki’s brow furrowed and he stepped back slightly from Fandral, though he kept their fingers intertwined. After a moment of thinking, a smile took over Loki’s face and he said, “I have a better idea… come with me.”

With that, Loki turned towards the gate and pulled Fandral along behind him by their joined hands. When they reached the trellis, Loki paused and looked back at Fandral. “Do you trust me?” Loki asked seriously.

“Absolutely,” Fandral answered without hesitation.

Loki’s smile turned mischievous, and he waved his hands. Green light flared from his fingertips and Fandral felt as though a thin veil had been draped over his skin. As he looked down, he saw that his hands did not look at all like they usually did. They were more tanned, almost almond coloured, and he was wearing a different tunic. From what Fandral could tell, it looked like a steward’s or page’s doublet.

With another flick of his wrist, Loki produced a silver tray with a pitcher and goblets set atop it. He handed it to Fandral with a satisfied smile and said, “Follow my lead.”
When Loki looked at him like that, there was little Fandral could do but follow and see where the prince led him.

Chapter Text

They left the queen’s garden and Loki led Fandral down a series of twisting corridors. Fandral had no idea what Loki was planning, but he guessed that it involved taking Fandral somewhere he was not supposed to be if a disguise was necessary. As they walked, the corridors began to change subtly from the familiar public halls Fandral was accustomed to, where the wide halls became smaller and more intimate as they moved deeper into the palace. They came across fewer people in these small corridors, but those they did see were mostly dressed similarly to Fandral’s disguise.

Eventually, Loki stopped at a large set of double doors. They were shimmering with gold and ornately carved with the branches of Yggdrasil and the writhing form of Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, curled under the gnarled roots of the tree. Loki looked up and down the corridor before opening one of the doors and ushering Fandral inside.

The room Fandral found himself in was spacious, with a high domed ceiling and large windows on the wall directly in front of him. There were two large doors amongst these windows that led out onto a balcony, whose balustrade was twined with creeping jasmine flowers. The floor of the large room was inlaid with silver and gold patterns of intricate running knots and symbols, but the furniture decorating the space was far less ostentatious.

On the left wall was a large four-poster canopy bed with green velvet curtains draped around it. A rudimentary closet and matching dresser were set to the side of the bed, and the walls on either side of the entrance were tacked with drawings, paintings, and scribbled notes. The entire right side of the room was taken up with a large oak desk and two huge bookshelves. The shelves were stuffed to overflowing and the desk was cluttered with parchment, charcoal, and instruments made from shiny metal or glass that Fandral could not discern the function of.

It was not difficult for Fandral to conclude that these were Loki’s chambers, and the thought that he was standing in the prince’s inner sanctum sent a jolt of excitement through his bones.

As Loki closed the door behind them, a haze of green light flared up around Fandral again. When he looked down at himself, Fandral saw that Loki’s illusion had dropped and he was back to his regular appearance, though Fandral was still holding the tray and pitcher.

“Welcome to my chambers,” Loki said, taking the tray from Fandral. He then moved towards the large windows and set the drinks down on a low table situated in front of a plush looking sofa.

“Your rooms are wonderful, Loki,” Fandral replied. He walked further into the room slowly, almost reverently, and let his eyes drink in all the little details that spoke to Loki’s habits. Like the half-empty bowl of sweetcakes by the bed, or the strange smelling spell ingredients hanging from a rack suspended above the desk, and even the large fluffy pillows that were piled high on the green and gold bed covers.

“Thank you,” Loki answered shyly. He wrung his hands together as Fandral approached the windows to take in the beautiful view of the palace grounds beyond the balcony. Loki cleared his throat and went on, “Can I pour you a drink?”

Fandral turned back to Loki, who was hovering awkwardly by the pitcher. Fandral thought he looked utterly sweet all flustered like that, and he said, “Yes, thank you Loki. I would hardly want to have carried it all the way here for it to go to waste!”

Loki looked slightly sheepish as he poured some wine into two goblets, “I’m sorry about disguising you, but this area of the palace is restricted to staff and residents only. I figured it would be less suspicious should someone happen upon us.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Loki,” Fandral said gently as Loki handed him a goblet. “I understand completely. And that glamour you cast was a fine piece of spell craft, in my very inexperienced opinion!”

Loki chuckled as they both sat down on the sofa, “Illusions come easily to me. It’s like crafting a drawing almost, as though I’m painting over something so that only the truth as I wish it is visible.” Loki blushed slightly, “I’m not sure that even makes sense…”

“I find magic very complicated, but I like the way you explain it.” Fandral shuffled closer to Loki on the sofa, finding his gaze drawn to Loki’s long fingers laced around his goblet. Impulsively, Fandral reached out to brush his fingers over the back of Loki’s hand, “It’s as though your magic is a raw material that can be moulded into something beautiful, the way a sculptor crafts figures out of marble.”

Loki exhaled shakily as he turned his fingers to tangle with Fandral’s, “You certainly have a way with words yourself, Fandral.”

Fandral smiled at Loki, enjoying the tender look in the prince’s eyes. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and he said distractedly, “Oh yes! Words!”

Loki’s brow furrowed with confusion as Fandral put his goblet down and began to search through his pockets.

“I completely forgot; Lady Beyla passed me a note before she left, and I have yet to read it,” Fandral said as he pulled the note from inside his tunic.

As Fandral began to unseal the letter, Loki asked softly, “So, you and she talked then?”

“Yes, we had a very enlightening conversation,” Fandral said, looking up from the letter. “I confess, at first I was suspicious of her intentions towards you, but then she explained her situation. I am glad she was kind to you over this past week.”

“Indeed, she was very understanding once she stopped throwing herself all over me. Or at least,” Loki added, “before I knew the reason behind it.”

“I am sorry you had to endure that, even if most of it was pretend,” Fandral replied, placing a hand over Loki’s knee. “I know you tend to avoid busy events and the touch of strangers.”

Loki tentatively laced his arm through the crook of Fandral’s elbow and leaned back on the sofa. “Beyla was very nice about the whole thing,” he said, “But, nonetheless, I felt as though I was nothing more than a piece of meat on display, a tasty morsel all dressed up for show. It was ridiculous… and humiliating. In many ways it was surprising to hear that Beyla felt the same way. I suppose I am just glad that I was not born a woman, for I fear that my life would consist entirely of weeks like this one.”

Loki trailed off with a sigh, but then seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. He smiled up at Fandral through his lashes, “Thankfully, it is not a common occurrence for me. And I have you waiting for me after all the suitors have gone.”

Fandral smiled back and let his voice drop down an octave into a sultry murmur, “I have no doubt that I would fancy you no matter what body you were born in, my dear Loki. Though I must admit, I rather like the one you have…”

Loki chuckled and his face flushed a pretty pink. The prince cleared his throat and asked, “What does the note say, then?”

Fandral let his eyes rest on Loki for a moment longer, enjoying the way the prince blushed at his praise but looked thoroughly pleased at the compliments under his shy exterior. Fandral leaned back from Loki slightly and directed his attention back to the letter in his hand.

“It reads:
Dearest Fandral and Loki (for I have no doubt that you are reading this together),
I wanted to say once again how glad I am that we became friends (as I hope that is now what we are) after the strange events of this week. I also have news… I took your advice Fandral. I finally told Freyr the truth about Byggvir and how much I would like it if he was allowed to court me. Freyr was surprised but he knows that Byggvir is a good man and has given us his blessing for our courtship.
I know that your situation is more complex, and dare I say dangerous, but I hope that you can find the happiness with each other that I feel with my Byggvir. I hope to introduce him to you one day if you desire to stay in touch.
Look after each other and by the Gods please be careful.
Yours,
Beyla.”

Fandral placed the note on the table and said, “Well, I am glad she has reached an agreement with King Freyr. I hope she and Byggvir will be very happy together!”

Loki hummed noncommittally, his eyes still resting on the letter. He sighed, “I doubt we could ever reach an agreement like that with my father. He does what he thinks is right, no matter what those around him have to say about it…”

Loki trailed off with an angry huff. Fandral squeezed his knee where his hand still rested and said, “I take it you have tried making you feelings known to the All Father?”

Loki hummed again, a dark look on his face, “I have asked him many times to stop sending me suitors and companions that he thinks I would get along with. He does not listen when I say that I have no desire to court any of them or be friends with the courtiers he presents to me. He insists that I am young and that I should meet new people. It is as though he thinks I am incapable of making friends, when the truth is that I would rather avoid those types of people altogether.” Loki scoffed. “Sometimes it feels like he barely knows me at all.”

“Doesn’t he say the same things to Thor, at least?” Fandral asked.

A bitter chuckle escaped from Loki, “He has only good words for Thor. He meets many people, he goes to parties and connects with his fellow warriors, according to my father. Though I’m not sure how drunkenly singing on a table surrounded by an equally inebriated rabble is meant to inspire respect amongst the Aesir.”

Loki sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He met Fandral’s gaze apologetically as he said, “I’m sorry for complaining. I wanted us to have a nice evening… but I just get so frustrated by the way things are.”

“It’s alright, Loki,” Fandral replied, reaching for his goblet. “To be honest, I get frustrated too.”

Loki furrowed his brow, “But, you fit in so well with Thor and the others.”

“Be that as it may, I still wish that things were different. For instance, I know that I would be given a hard time if the warriors knew just how deep my love of poetry runs,” Fandral confessed softly. “That it goes beyond knowing a verse or two just to enchant the ladies. Or that I compose my own music for my lute rather than just the bawdy tavern songs I play for them. I may fit in, as you put it, but there is far more to me than any of them know.”

“That’s what I like about you,” Loki said with a soft smile. “All those things that no one else knows… I get to have them all for myself.”

Fandral felt a warmth bloom in his chest, not just at Loki’s sweet words but at the way the prince was looking at him. There was a softness and vulnerability in Loki’s blue grey eyes that tore at him. It made Fandral want to take Loki in his arms and protect him from the rest of the world, from the people who thought him strange and resented him for what they did not understand.

“And they are yours entirely, my darling Loki,” Fandral replied, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. It was still hard for Fandral to believe how affected he was by Loki, as the prince’s sincere gaze was enough to make his breath hitch and voice get stuck in his throat.

At Fandral’s words, Loki’s soft look shifted into something heavier. His pupils dilated slightly, and he licked his lips as his eyes flicked down to Fandral’s mouth. Fandral swallowed thickly and leaned closer.

“May I kiss you, my darling prince?” Fandral asked.

Loki nodded and before Fandral could say anything more, Loki’s lips were on his.

It was not a particularly skilled kiss. They were slightly misaligned with their noses bumping together and it was over in the blink of an eye, but to Fandral it was the most perfect thing he had ever experienced simply because it was Loki. It was Loki’s nose that was bumping his, and Loki’s lips that were slightly too low against his own, and the wet heat of Loki’s breath mingling with his own. These things might have been awkward with anyone else, but to Fandral they were precious and endearing, and incredibly attractive.

Loki pulled away and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I think I’m a bit out of practice…”

Fandral couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face, and he chuckled. Loki looked slightly put out by Fandral’s reaction, but he gently cupped the prince’s face and said, “Well there’s only one thing for it.” At Loki’s raised eyebrow, Fandral continued, “You shall simply need to practice more, and I am willing to be your training partner.”

A twinkle stole into Loki’s eyes and his lips pulled into a lopsided smile, “And I suppose that will be a great burden for you?”

Fandral shrugged, acting overly nonchalant, “Well, my time is precious, your highness… But I am willing to rearrange my schedule to give you time to practice your skills.”

Loki hummed, sounding unimpressed despite the smile on his face. Fandral couldn’t help the giggles that escaped him at their teasing. Once Fandral began to chuckle, Loki’s deep rich laughter joined him, and the prince whacked Fandral on the chest playfully.

As they laughed and grinned at each other, Fandral felt giddy like a child. He couldn’t believe that he was here, with the man he had thought he could never have. Fandral shook his head in disbelief as he drank in Loki’s smiling face. He then leaned back in for another kiss, and then another, and another, both men grinning and giggling into the short imperfect kisses.

Before long, their laughter melted away and their kisses became sweeter and gentler. Fandral buried his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Loki’s neck and marvelled at how grateful he was to be with Loki, as they continued trading soft kisses into the night.

Chapter Text

After kissing for what felt like hours, Fandral felt as though his heart was full to bursting with happiness. At length, Loki gently pulled away and took a long sip of his wine, a flush high on his cheeks.

Fandral touched his fingers to his tingling lips and chuckled. “I must say, Loki, you are certainly a quick study when you apply yourself to a task!” he remarked.

Loki smiled at him briefly, but after a moment Fandral noticed some of the spark that he loved best about the prince faded from his expression. Fandral’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Loki? Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?”

Loki looked thoughtfully into the depths of his wine goblet. He smiled sadly before saying, “You have done nothing wrong, Fandral. I was just thinking how all the times I have done this previously, it has felt like nothing more than a task I had to endure rather than a subject I desired to apply any study towards.”

“Loki,” Fandral breathed sadly, a cold feeling of dread settling in his stomach. “Do you mean to say that you did not want me to kiss you? Because if that is true I could never forgive myself for making you endure something you did not want…”

Loki leaned back on the couch, arm brushing Fandral’s where they were still pressed together closely. He did not look up from his goblet as he shook his head, “No, my friend, that’s not what I meant at all…” Loki sighed in frustration, twisting the goblet in his hands restlessly.

There was a moment of silence. Fandral was not sure how to proceed, he was confused by the mixed signals Loki seemed to be giving. He was sure he had not misread the desire in Loki’s eyes before they had kissed, and Fandral had been sure to get Loki’s consent before kissing him. But it seemed that Loki was not happy and the thought that Fandral had done something to make the prince feel that way made his blood run cold.

“You do not have to tell me what you are feeling right now if you do not wish to,” Fandral said carefully. “And I can return to my chambers this very moment if you would rather be alone, I will not take offence. I am only concerned for you Loki. I only want you to be happy and comfortable.”

The sad smile returned to Loki’s face as he said quietly, “That makes you different from all the others then.”

“Others?” Fandral shook his head in confusion. “I fear I still do not understand, dearest.”

“Remember those weeks ago, when I drew your portrait, and you asked me if I preferred men or ladies?” When Fandral nodded, Loki continued, “Well, I said I did not mind either way because I have never really found myself attracted to either in any meaningful way. I have tried being with women, sexually and romantically, but I never felt a true connection. So I tried the same with men, only to find the same results. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with me, so I pushed away any suitors to spare their disappointment with me.”

Fandral’s brow furrowed. He desperately wanted to understand what the prince was trying to tell him but only one horrible thought occurred to him, “Are you saying that you were coerced into amorous situations?”

Loki sighed again in frustration, “I was not coerced, exactly. I merely did what I thought was expected of me. ”

“Do you mean to say that although you have had amorous interactions before, you did not actually want them? Or perhaps that you did not enjoy them?” Fandral asked.

“I suppose so. Although, I did not dislike it in the strictest sense. The physical sensations were gratifying, but the need for another person was more uncomfortable than anything,” Loki said, taking another sip of his wine. “I thought that if I tried it out, I would realise what I was missing and discover the reason why everyone else in the universe seems to desire it above all else. But I only discovered I did not desire any of those things, at least not with any of the people I have encountered so far in my life. I found that I did not mind, in fact I rather enjoyed being free from all the heartache and dramatics that I have observed others experiencing.”

Loki looked up at Fandral then and said shyly, “But then I got to know you. At first, I tried to push you away like all the others but you would not be swayed. So I consented to be your friend, and then I found that it was not so bad. In fact, I found it pleasurable. Eventually, I desired more than that, but only with you. And I want to give you what you desire in return, but I do not know if I will ever be able to… And yet you are the only one who makes those feelings inside me stir to any degree.”

Loki sighed again and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, “I don’t know if I’m explaining this right…”

Fandral reached over and took Loki’s hand. When the prince looked at him, Fandral said gravely, “I fear I have been a terrible brute to you Loki.” At the other man’s look of confusion, Fandral continued, “I have not made my desires clear to you at all. I desire to be close to you, in whatever way you will have me. I will not deny that I desire you, in the amorous sense. However, if you never wanted to do that with me I would be content with other types of closeness. Or if you only wanted to do that occasionally, I would wait for you. I desire you in every way, Loki, and being able to sit close to you or take your hand gives me a thrill I have never felt with anyone else.” Fandral took a breath, trying to steady the anxious beat of his heart. He smiled tenderly at Loki, “So I am content, my dearest, with whatever you desire.”

Once again there was silence but this time Loki was looking at Fandral with shining eyes. There was disbelief in his expression, as well as fondness and what Fandral could only describe as hope.

Fandral cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb over the back of Loki’s hand as he said softly, “Tell me what you desire, my prince.”

After a pause, Loki leaned in slowly and pressed a heartbreakingly gentle kiss, barely more than a faint brush of lips. When he pulled away, Loki buried his head in Fandral’s neck.

“Just this,” Loki said quietly, breath puffing against Fandral’s skin. “Right now, I just want this.”

Fandral wrapped his arms around Loki and they simply embraced for a long time. Fandral felt his arm going numb where Loki was pressed against his shoulder, but the thought of asking Loki to move was inconceivable. Eventually, the timepiece on Loki’s desk rang out, telling them the lateness of the hour.

Despite how desperately he wished to stay, Fandral could feel Loki slumping against him with the heaviness of sleep. He decided to gently extricate himself from the warmth of the couch and encourage Loki to get himself to bed.

***

Moving through the shadows, Fandral slipped silently into the dark corridor. He paused for a moment, listening for any signs of activity from the doors of the other warriors in the barracks, before sneaking down the corridor as silently as possible towards his chambers. Fandral tried to open the door to his room as quietly as he could and breathed a sigh of relief when the heavy wooden door closed behind him.

In the darkness of his rooms, Fandral let a large grin steal over his features. What a night it had been! He could not keep the smile off his face as he readied himself for bed and thought back on what had occurred.

They had said goodnight, and Loki had given Fandral the drinks tray, saying he had enchanted it so that Fandral could remain disguised while he was holding it. Now that he was safely back in his chambers, Fandral set the tray down and collapsed on his bed.

He could not deny the faint ember of anger he felt at Loki’s confessions, though of course none of his ire was directed at the prince. Quite the opposite in fact, Fandral felt that Loki’s little desire for amorous encounters made no difference to Fandral’s feelings for him at all. But he could not ignore the rage he felt at the world for placing expectations on Loki that he could not meet.

The fact that Loki had felt the need to engage in acts that he did not desire to fit in made Fandral furious at society and the people who had engaged in those acts with him. How could they not know that Loki had not been interested in them? Perhaps the ‘gratification’ as Loki had put it was enough for them. Indeed, Fandral realised that it had been enough for him for many years until he had discovered his feelings for Loki.

Fandral took a number of deep breaths, trying to push away the thoughts of anger, some of which was directed at himself. Instead, he thought of the closeness he had felt that night with Loki, and how it filled a void in Fandral he had not even known existed. It was to thoughts of Loki’s embrace, his gentle kisses, and the privilege of his trust that Fandral fell into a deep sleep filled with raven locks and the spark of green magic.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Fandral awoke to the sounds of crashing and loud voices coming from out in the hallway. Fandral groaned and buried his head under his pillow in a feeble attempt to keep the noises from drilling into his tired (and possibly slightly hungover) brain.

The situation then became exponentially worse when someone decided to start pounding on his door.

“Have mercy oh dread spirit raging against my door! Leave me be!” Fandral cried pompously, hoping to dissuade the loud interloper with these grandiose declarations and perhaps convince them that he still did not have his faculties after a night of revels. Fandral buried himself further under his blankets and clung to this hope.

Yet it was not to be as Thor’s voice joined the hubbub, saying “Fandral, it is only your friends! There are no spirits about, unless you count those that were consumed last night!”

There was a round of laughter at Thor’s joke, but Fandral only groaned again. He knew there would be no more peace for him this morning. “Then enter if you must, cruel friends, so that at least we may cease this beastly shouting!” Fandral replied.

The door to his chambers opened and Fandral could hear the tread of multiple pairs of boots from where he was still buried under his covers.

“Oh dear,” Volstagg said mournfully. “It seems the Dashing One overdid it last night!”

“Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say this morning, for I believe he did not return until the wee hours,” Hogun chimed in.

“Which is exactly why it is surely too early for all of you to be in my chambers and rousing me,” Fandral grumbled.

Thor laughed in response, “My friend, it is after midday! Did you not hear the bells tolling the noon hour? Most everyone else has risen already!”

Fandral simply moaned in protest, which prompted more peals of laughter. Thor pulled down the covers from over Fnadral’s head and regarded him with a knowing look.

“Might it have something to do with your mysterious new lady love? You are being very secretive about the whole thing, I must say Fandral!”

Fandral sighed and regarded the warriors in his room through slitted lids, “If it were, I would not tell you cads anything about it! For it is clear to me that you do not respect chivalry and gentlemanly behaviour by the way you have loudly barged into my rooms while I recover from the revels.”

“On the contrary, Fandral,” Hogun said with a glint in his dark eyes. “It is our brotherly duty to rouse you and provide you with sustenance to aid your recovery.” From behind his back, Hogun revealed a plate of bread, cold meats, and cheese.

After considering this peace offering through narrowed eyes, Fandral sat up and gestured for the food gratefully. There was more light hearted ribbing about the antics that each of them had got up to the night before and Fandral began to feel more alive after eating some food. Eventually, he was able to herd his friends out of his chambers so he could wash up.

The rest of the day was uneventful, as most of the court and Aesir warriors were nursing hangovers or cleaning up the remnants of the festivities. Or both as was the case with Fandral and his warrior friends. Much of the ceremonial armour and arms that had been used in the last week needed cleaning before they were placed back in the palace armoury until the next special occasion. Sif had tutted at the warriors three as she passed them by, but soon the work was done and Fandral could attend the official announcement that the Allfather was going to make before supper.

It turned out to be another boring speech thanking the court for their work while the elves had been present, but Fandral tuned everything else out as he once again only had eyes for the dark haired prince standing behind the king. He tried to keep his expression carefully blank but Fandral felt as though his heart was full to bursting upon seeing Loki, who was looking resplendent in his fine green and silver formal wear.

Loki was regarding the court with his usual haughty disinterest, but Fandral’s gaze was rewarded with an almost imperceptible twitch of a smile upon the prince’s lips. After Odin’s speech, the warriors three and Sif sat at a supper table and waited for Thor to join them. Or at least, everyone but Volstagg waited. Their rotund friend instead began digging into the food as soon as the king was seated, as early as propriety would allow.

As Thor approached the table, Fandral’s heart skipped a beat when he spotted Loki trailing behind his brother.

“Look here, friends!” Thor announced. “I have managed to convince my brother to dine with us! After being thoroughly occupied all week with the elves, I feel as though I have hardly seen you recently Loki.”

Loki’s lip twisted sourly at the thought of his week with the elven delegation. As he took his seat (deliberately next to Fandral, which pleased the warrior greatly), Loki said, “Believe me, it was entirely by my father’s design. If I could have done something else this week I would have.”

“I thought you rather liked the spotlight, Loki,” Sif teased. “I would have believed you to be rather pleased to be on display and catered to for a whole week.”

Loki regarded Sif coolly, before plastering on a wry smile as he began to fill his plate. “I assure you Sif, while I do enjoy indulging in theatrics from time to time, there was little to entertain me this past week.”

“I am sure Fandral the Dashing would disagree with you had your places been reversed,” Hogun replied with a twinkle in his eye.

“Indeed!” Thor cried, clapping Loki on the back roughly. “Our Fandral was quite taken with Lady Beyla and attended every event to simply get a glimpse of her!”

“Did he indeed?” Loki’s tone of equal surprise and disinterest was so convincing that even Fandral would have believed the prince’s indifference if he had not known better.

Fandral cleared his throat and hoped that his own attempts at deception would be believed. “Quite so! Upon my brief encounters with her, I found Lady Beyla to be very charming.”

“I have no doubt you did, Fandral,” Sif retorted with a sly grin. “But what about you, Loki? Did you not find her pleasing? By all accounts she is a very lovely lady and yet you did not seem to be swayed by her charms.”

Thor did not notice the pointedly unimpressed glance Sif gave him. Instead, he clapped his hands and said, “Yes, come brother! Tell us what you thought of her.”

“I thought she was a pleasant enough companion for the week,” Loki sniffed, his expression guarded. “She was certainly very skilled at her assigned task.”

Volstagg gasped, scandalised on behalf of the lady, and cried, “What a beastly thing to say, Loki!”

Loki raised an imperious eyebrow at the other man’s tone, and Fandral noticed Thor’s shoulders tense.

“I meant no disrespect, “Volstagg insisted, before continuing hesitantly. “But surely she cannot be faulted for following the wishes of her king?”

Fandral could see the moment when Loki’s expression shuttered and there was nothing but contempt in his eyes. “No I suppose not,” he said with a chilly smile, “and my praise of her techniques was not intended to be slander, though I can see how it could be taken as such. I simply mean that she was very nice but neither one of us were as invested in the union as our respective sovereigns.”

Volstagg looked uncomfortable at Loki’s reference to the Allfather’s instructions, as did Thor. The elder prince clenched his jaw and shifted restlessly at Loki’s comments. It seemed likely to Fandral that this point was argued frequently amongst the royal family, particularly considering what Loki had told him the night before.

There was an awkward pause where the group ate in silence for a few minutes. No one knew what to say. It was to be expected that royal families would set up advantageous matches between political allies to cement treaties and diplomatic relationships, but rarely was it talked about so openly in the presence of the royals in question. And although the warriors considered themselves close friends of Thor, it was unusual for their more personal issues and opinions to be voiced so openly.

Of course Fandral, however, was no stranger to Loki’s views on his family and the expectations that came with being a prince. Even so, he didn’t know what to say to lighten the mood. What he really wanted to do was tell his friends to leave Loki be, but the mood was so tense that it was hard to find the right words that would diffuse the mood but not give away his regard for the young prince.

After a few minutes, Thor cleared his throat and plastered a jovial smile on his face. “Well, enough talk of the elves. The peace was renewed and our relations intact, despite the efforts of my brother and Fandral to cause an incident!”

Loki chuckled mischievously with a dark twinkle in his eyes which Fandral could not quite decipher. “Truly?” Loki said, voice dripping with scorn. “What could Fandral the Dashing have done to cause offence to the elves where I could not?”

Fandral could not help feeling uncomfortable at the ice in Loki’s tone. He was sure Loki was acting but the silver tongued prince was so convincing that Fandral was ashamed at the small flicker of doubt in his gut. He pushed the feeling away, furious at himself for even entertaining such a thought. He knew Loki must be upset at the direction of the conversation. Knowing him as well as he did, Fandral was sure Loki was simply lashing out to prevent their friends from seeing the depth of his hurt.

Fandral clapped a hand onto Loki’s forearm, hoping the gesture would not be interpreted as overly familiar. When Loki’s thigh brushed against Fandral’s under the table in an unmistakable reply, he chuckled and said brashly, “Do not listen to him, Loki. It is all slander! Our friends were convinced that I was going to find myself in a tryst with an elf and in doing so create a scandal. But I shall have you all know that I conducted myself in a gentlemanly and chivalrous manner all week, as I always do!”

“Or perhaps the real reason you stayed out of trouble all week was because of your budding romance with the mysterious maiden you refuse to talk about,” Hogun suggested wryly.

“It is true, Fandral,” Sif chimed in, regarding him thoughtfully. “By now we would have heard all about your latest conquest, but apart from your brief attachment to Lady Beyla we have heard nothing from you lately on the subject of romance.”

“There must be something special indeed about this particular lady, eh Fandral?” Thor said, eyebrows waggling.

Fandral wished he could see Loki’s expression at this turn in the conversation, but as they were sitting so close Fandral couldn’t get a good look without turning more directly towards him. Fandral shifted in his seat and chuckled, plastering a charming grin on his face and trying to think of something to say to satisfy the curiosity of his friends.

“Surely you can at least describe her if you would not reveal her name or the details of your meetings,” Volstagg suggested in between mouthfuls of chicken drumsticks. “Have mercy on your curious friends!”

Fandral took in the curious faces of his friends around the table and quickly surmised that they were unlikely to let the subject go unless he offered something to satisfy them. He scratched his beard thoughtfully, playing up his absent-mindedness as he sighed dreamily, “Well, where would I even begin? Her beauty is such that one might even call it beyond words…”

As his friends all complained about Fandral’s theatrics, he brushed his thigh against Loki’s under the table in an attempt to communicate that the words he spoke about this ‘maiden’ were all meant for him. Fandral looked to Loki out of the corner of his eye and saw a slight flush of pink on the prince’s neck. No one else would notice but Fandral was pleased to confirm that Loki had understood his message.

“Very well!” Fandral shouted over the top of his boisterous friends. “I shall try my best to do her justice. Her hair is as black as the feathers on Odin’s ravens, soft and fragrant. Her skin is pale, but her complexion is never sickly, rather she is iridescent like moonlight. And her eyes are an ever-changing blue, sometimes dark like a storm-tossed sea and sometimes light like the sky on a clear summer day. To be sure, they are eyes one can get lost in and I am always glad for the chance.”

Sif laughed at Fandral’s words, “Oh my, you have outdone yourself with this description Fandral! I have never heard you wax so poetic about anyone!”

“Oh hush, Sif,” Volstagg protested. “He is not finished! What of her stature? With such a lovely face she must be comely indeed!”

Loki coughed indelicately into his wine, from which he had taken a sip to hide his blushing cheeks at Fandral’s description. Fandral smiled and continued, enjoying flattering Loki no matter how indirectly.

“You are truly a boor, Volstagg! All I will say is that she is tall and willowy, but all those who underestimate her strength and fierceness do so at their own peril.”

“She sounds like a truly fine lady!” Thor said, draining his tankard. “No wonder she has taken up so much of your time…”

“She is remarkable, but I will say no more about her tonight so I suggest you all find something else to discuss as we finish our meal,” Fandral said, toasting his friends with his wine goblet.

The conversation swiftly moved on and Fandral happily stayed pressed up against Loki for the rest of the evening.

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.

Chapter Text

Fandral had hoped to see Loki again before he departed for Nornheim but, to his disappointment, it seemed like Loki had been held up with his family for longer than expected as he was nowhere to be found that night or the following morning. He was not sure whether he should be worried about the prince, given the way Loki’s family had been upsetting him lately. Before Fandral could make up his mind Hogun arrived to begin the final preparations. After assembling the troop of guards and meeting up with the priestesses to be escorted, the group departed down the rainbow bridge.

Once the Bifrost had deposited them in the strange land of the Norns, the plan was to escort the priestesses to the sorcerers college and stay overnight to ensure they were settled before heading back to Asgard the following day. As expected, the journey to the college was uneventful but it gave Fandral the welcome respite he had been craving.

It also gave him time to think about Loki, which Fandral felt he had been doing quite a lot lately. Initially, he’d thought that he understood the challenges he and Loki would face in keeping their courtship a secret. Now that their relationship was developing, however, Fandral realised that it was turning out to be much harder than he originally believed. Even without the jibes of his friends getting under Fandral’s skin, and upsetting Loki to boot, the need to sneak away and find a secluded place to meet was stressful. Poems and stories often portray secret romances as exhilarating or somehow more romantic in some way, but Fandral was discovering that it was a lot more complicated than all that.

Even though Fandral had been sneaking away to spend time with Loki for most of their friendship, the stakes were so much higher now if they were discovered. And rather than making the situation somehow more romantic or passionate, it was instead causing a tension within Fandral that was bleeding into his relationship with his friends. In addition to being the intermediary between the warriors and Loki when he played his tricks on them, Fandral’s ability to shrug off his friends’ teasing with an easy laugh or a good humoured jibe of his own was being tested. He had almost snapped at a stable boy the other day simply for being around him after his friends had once again brought up his ‘mysterious maiden’ and had left him feeling put out and frustrated.

Despite how much the words of his friends were getting to him and the tension of the ever-present threat of discovery, every minute spent with Loki reminded Fandral why they were doing this and why it was worth it. As soon as they were concealed with magic or inside the private gardens, every brush of their hands eased the tension from his shoulders, every one of Loki’s private smiles warmed Fandral’s heart, every whispered conversation and touch of lips thrilled him.

What really shocked him, though, was how different his relationship with Loki was from his previous partners. Fandral had always thought that his connections with previous lovers was only worth pursuing if he felt a spark. There had to be electricity whenever he touched them, or a fire stoked in his belly when he saw them that drove him to passion. But there was nothing deeper. Nothing beyond those surface desires. Fandral had thought there was with some of them, but now that he was with Loki he knew he had never felt anything so deep and real - something so precious.

When Fandral kissed Loki it was more like a feeling of completeness, as though he was coming home to where he had always belonged. As soon as he was in Loki’s arms, Fandral could relax and be his true self. He hardly realised how much he missed Loki’s presence when they were apart until he saw him again and felt whole, as though a phantom limb had been reattached. It was not the meaningless passion that fizzled out once he had his fill. To Fandral, it felt more like a constant ember of warmth that was forever present in his heart and was brought to life in Loki’s presence.

Of course, Fandral felt passion and desire for Loki as well, occasionally he even had to reign himself in when he felt that hunger thrumming in his veins. But he was content to wait. In fact, Fandral had never been so content in his life.

He was jerked from his thoughts by the clattering of their horses’ hooves on stones as their entourage passed under the gates to the town surrounding the sorcerer’s college and the road shifted from hard packed earth to paved streets. Beside him, Hogun chuckled.

“Are you back with us now Fandral?” he said.

Fandral shifted in his saddle, “What do you mean, my friend?”

“I mean nothing by it,” Hogun replied in his usual calm, even manner. “I am only observing that your mind has been occupied elsewhere for this whole trip.”

“My apologies, Hogun. I did not mean to neglect my duty,” Fandral replied, silently berating his own carelessness towards the mission while his thoughts had wandered.

Hogun was silent for a few moments as their horses wound their way towards the citadel of the college. He looked over at Fandral and said, “There is no need to worry over it. I trust your warrior instincts to be alert even if you are preoccupied with deep thoughts.”

“And what makes you think my thoughts were deep?” Fandral asked lightly, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

“Your furrowed brow was the first clue. Although, the smile that kept breaking through makes me wonder what, or perhaps whom, you were preoccupied with that has you so conflicted,” Hogun answered sagely.

Fandral sighed and clenched his jaw. He’d thought he could escape further interrogation from Hogun. He said nothing and eventually Hogun continued.

“You do not have to tell me what is on your mind,” he said quietly. “I respect your privacy. But I hope you know that you can confide in me with your troubles if you wish. I will not judge you, nor will I betray your confidence.”

Fandral once again said nothing. He hardly had a chance to ponder Hogun’s words as their entourage arrived at the citadel gates and trundled into the courtyard beyond. Their group was greeted by the Norn priestesses, as well as a number of guards. It was chaos while the horses were taken by stable hands, luggage was retrieved, and the Asgardian group were shown to their quarters.

Soon after, they were whisked away to a midday meal. As the Asgardians sat down to their lunch with the Norns, Fandral noted the weighted glances Hogun kept directing at him. He kept his contributions to the conversations around him to a minimum, trying instead to think through his options and the implications of Hogun's words.

On the one hand, Fandral knew he couldn’t tell Hogun the truth - he would not risk endangering Loki and betraying his confidence. On the other hand, he felt like he needed to confide in someone or else he may explode from the tension he was carrying.

After many more pointed stares from Hogun, the meal drew to a close and the guards withdrew to their quarters or the grounds while the priestesses got settled into their new college homes. Fandral found himself wandering aimlessly through the citadel halls, trying to come to a decision. Eventually, he came to the chambers he and Hogun were to share for the night. Fandral could hear the sounds of Hogun scratching away on parchment under the door.

Fandral took a deep breath and knocked.

“It’s open,” Hogun called from within.

Fandral pushed the door open and entered. He stopped in the doorway and tugged on his beard nervously.

When Fandral didn’t speak immediately, Hogun looked up from his perch on one of the small cots in the room, regarding his friend with a raised eyebrow. Fandral waited a moment more to see if Hogun would open the conversation, but the other man remained still and silent.

Fandral sighed, running a hand over his face. “If I can be honest with you my friend, will you swear to not be offended?” Fandral said, the words jumbling out in a rush.

Hogun smiled, pointedly putting away his writing implements. He then folded his hands in his lap and said quietly, “I can certainly try.”

Fandral collapsed onto the opposite cot and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. “Truthfully, all the teasing and bantering from our friends about my… my new lover is starting to grate on my nerves.”

Hogun’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, “I see.”

“I mean no offence,” Fandral said hurriedly, “surely you know how much I love our friends. But… I am starting to realise how much I truly care for this person, how much they mean to me. And the constant teasing about my amorous tendencies, and indeed the guessing about the character and identity of my ‘raven haired maiden’, simply serves as a constant reminder that… everything about this is different than ever before. This relationship is so much more important than any I’ve had, and I feel as though everyone making light of it is weighing me down. That might sound like a paradox but… I feel burdened by their expectations. That I have to keep up appearances when all I want to do is the exact opposite of everything that is expected of me.”

Fandral drew in a deep breath, “There, I have said my piece. In hindsight it may not actually make much sense but…”

Hogun was silent for a few moments, nodding to himself. “May I make an observation, Fandral?” Hogun said gently. When Fandral gestured for him to continue, he went on slowly, “I noticed you said ‘they’ when talking about your lover. Am I correct in thinking, then, that this relationship is of a less… traditional nature?”

Fandral’s stomach dropped. He had said too much. He had not meant to reveal all that, but once he opened his mouth the words came tumbling out. He tried to smile, “Hogun… I-I’m not sure what you mean… It’s not…”

“I understand,” Hogun interrupted gently, his eyes kind. “Such things may be accepted and openly done outside of palace life. I know many people from my homeworld whose life partners are not of the opposite gender, or indeed are not of any gender, or may even be of multiple genders. Outside the palace walls, most would not bat an eye. But the expectations you speak of… it seems they mean much more in the royal court, do they not?”

Fandral opened his mouth to reply but could make no sound. The things Hogun was speaking of… he didn’t think they were that common. He thought him and Loki were anomalies… Of course, he knew of them happening outside the palace walls of Asgard, but for Hogun to know so many people who were in similar situations… It was so different from how Fandral had understood things as he had grown up, coming from a relatively well-regarded inner city family. Things were clearly not the same outside of the Asgardian city walls…

“You do not need to tell me who this person is,” Hogun continued, breaking through Fandral’s thoughts. “I can see you care very deeply about them, and that is enough for me. I just hope that perhaps one day you are able to declare your love amongst the court for all to see, for I am sure you are not the only ones who feel stifled by the expectations of palace life.”

“Thank you, Hogun,” Fandral replied sincerely. “Your kind words mean more than I can say… I only ask that you keep your revelations to yourself, please. My… partner… is not in a safe position for something like this to get out, even only in rumors.”

“Of course, you have my word,” Hogun nodded solemnly. “And I will speak to our friends about their teasing. But do not fear, I won’t tell them about the nature of your relationship. I will simply inform them that this ‘maiden’ means more to you than any before her, so their jibes are no longer welcome.”

Fandral sighed, feeling a pressure lift from his chest. “It is much appreciated, my friend.” Fandral rose to leave, but paused and said, “I hope that one day I will be able to introduce you properly to my partner, for they are… wonderful.”

Hogun cracked a smile, rising from his cot also. He clasped Fandral’s shoulder, “I hope so too, my friend.”

Chapter Text

Fandral returned to Asgard feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Confiding in Hogun eased the tension that he had been carrying and he was grateful to his friend for being so understanding. Unfortunately, his good mood did not last long.

The party of warriors arrived back in Asgard and came to halt in the barracks courtyard. Fandral looked around to see if Loki was anywhere about, but still trying to keep his swivelling head as subtle as possible. After dismounting, unloading his gear and walking his horse back to the stables, it became clear that Loki was not present.

Fandral tamped down on the ridiculous disappointment he felt curling in his gut. Loki was a prince, there would be no reason for him to be hanging around the barracks waiting for a random assortment of soldiers to return. Nonetheless, the reminder of what he and Loki were missing out on stung. Fandral tried his best to shrug off his dour thoughts as he took care of his horse and equipment.

It was just after noon when all his work was done, and Fandral promptly went off in search of the dark haired prince. He searched all of the usual places but as each location turned up nothing, Fandral’s confusion took a turn towards concern. He even searched the training grounds in a last ditch effort to locate the prince, but Fandral’s search proved fruitless. Loki was nowhere to be found.

As Fandral departed the training grounds, trying desperately to keep control of his spiralling worry, he almost ran headlong into Thor and Sif.

“Ah, welcome back Fandral!” Thor exclaimed, clapping the smaller man on the shoulder. “I take it the priestesses have settled well in Nornheim?”

Fandral tried to compose himself and keep any anxiety out of his expression. “Indeed, my friend!” he replied. “The priestesses are ready to begin their training. It seems both of you are also ready for some training?”

“I am going to prove to Sif that, out of the two of us, it is I who possess the superior axe throwing skills!” Thor said jovially.

“He is certainly going to try,” Sif said confidently, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Fandral chuckled, “Much as I would like to see this great battle of skill, I was wondering if either of you had seen Loki recently?” At the confused looks from his friends, Fandral thought quickly for an excuse. “You see, he asked me to retrieve a unique magical volume from the sorcerer's college, but I cannot find him anywhere so that I can deliver it to him.”

Sif and Thor exchanged a weighted glance.

“As thoughtful as that is, Fandral, I am not sure Loki would appreciate your delivery right now. Or any visitors at all, really.” Sif said quietly.

Fandral’s stomach dropped, “Is there something wrong with the prince? Is he quite well?”

There was another look between his two friends before Thor spoke up, “Physically he is well. But he has not left his rooms in two days… Unfortunately he has tried our father’s patience these last few months with his, uh, disruptive behaviour.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Fandral asked, trying desperately to conceal the roiling in his gut.

Thor cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable talking about family matters. “He got a, uh, talking to from our mother and father, shall we say. I think it has wounded his pride.” The blonde prince shrugged his shoulders and plastered on a smile, “Never fear, Fandral. I’m sure my brother will deign to grace the palace with his presence again soon, once he has licked his wounds so to speak.”

“Right, of course,” Fandral replied thickly. His chest was tight with worry as his mind conjured up all manner of scenarios that could have driven Loki to lock himself away in his chambers for days on end, each one more upsetting than the last. Fandral began to move past his friends, thoughts entirely on Loki.

“Are you sure you won’t bear witness to our little axe throwing competition?” Thor said as Fandral passed.

Fandral turned and forced a smile, “I’m sorry friends, but I have not yet had my midday meal and I fear that tarrying in the sun would not be good for my constitution!”

Thor laughed heartily, “Very well, Fandral! Go and enjoy your meal. We will find you after with tales of my victory!”

Sif snorted and the pair began their typical good-natured squabbling as they continued towards the training grounds. Fandral’s smile slid off his face and he hurried towards Loki's chambers.

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.

Chapter Text

The first thing Fandral became aware of was something soft tickling his cheek. The next thing he noticed was something freezing cold pressing against his calf. Fandral fought towards wakefulness and opened his eyes, only to see more darkness. He twisted his head and realised that his face had been buried in Loki’s black hair, and the cold thing on his leg was Loki’s bare foot against Fandral’s skin where his trousers had ridden up.

The realisation that Loki was pressed up against him, with the prince’s back flush against Fandral’s front, was enough to rouse him completely. The remembrance that he was in the prince’s bed made him push up onto his elbow in shock. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. But there Loki was, rolled onto his side away from Fandral with his dark hair in disarray on the pillow and a pale yellow blanket tucked up under his chin.

Loki looked younger in sleep, Fandral thought. His posture was completely relaxed and his expressive face was open - unguarded in a way Fandral rarely saw in while the prince was awake. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and tucking a stray lock of hair away from Loki’s face. He then couldn’t resist brushing his knuckles delicately against Loki’s cheek.

The prince’s brows crinkled sweetly at his touch, and he inhaled a deep breath through his nose as he woke. Loki’s eyes peeled open and met Fandral’s. Loki smiled sleepily and said, “Good morning.”

Fandral thought his heart might melt with adoration. “Good morning, my sweet. I trust you slept well, despite your alarmingly icy feet!”

Loki chuckled, his deep voice gravelly with sleep. “The cold does not bother me so much, but yes I did sleep well. In truth, I slept better than I have in many nights.”

Fandral smiled as Loki turned onto his back and kicked the blanket so that it covered the two of them better. He kissed Loki’s temple softly and smiled into the prince’s hair. Loki turned his face towards Fandral’s for a brief moment, but then pulled away slightly.

He cupped Fandral’s cheek gently and said with sincerity, “Thank you for letting me rant and rave last night.”
Fandral pressed a kiss to the inside of Loki’s wrist. “Thank you for trusting me with your ranting and raving,” he said. “In truth, it is an absolute privilege to share your burdens, Loki.”

“And people say I am the one with the silver tongue,” Loki replied wryly, fingers tracing Fandral’s stubbled jaw.

“Oh, I can attest that you are,” Fandral teased. He leaned down to kiss Loki and the prince met him halfway.

It felt as though it had been an age since they had last done this, but in reality it had probably only been a day or two. Fandral fitted his lips against Loki’s with ease. Now that they had had many hours of practice, they knew exactly what the other liked. He knew that Loki did not like a lot of tongue, and only would accept such kisses once they had worked their way up to it. So Fandral started out with tender brushes of lips, where their mouths met and held that simple contact for a few moments before pulling away and starting all over again. Fandral then fitted their mouths together more deeply, with only a slight opening of lips to try and keep any unnecessary wetness to a minimum.

Kissing Loki and pleasing him was like a delicate dance, and Fandral was determined to learn every move that made the prince happy. Any misstep would result in Loki steering the kisses to become chaste once more, and their dance of push and pull would continue. Fandral had no complaints, he loved kissing Loki no matter what kind they were.

Unfortunately, he could see the many ways that others would have misunderstood Loki’s subtle clues and had lost their patience with the prince. But every kiss was a gift to Fandral. When he was able to gently brush his tongue along Loki’s lips and receive a contented sigh in return, he felt a warmth bloom in his chest that threatened to consume him. Occasionally, Loki would even return the favour and brush his cool tongue back along Fandral’s lips, which would make him shiver and groan with delight.

Fandral was just about to dip his tongue into Loki's mouth gently when there was an abrupt knocking at the door. Loki drew away, wide eyes darting to the door. Fandral leaned away from the prince, giving him some space to ground himself as he had learned was sometimes necessary for the prince. Loki cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, eyes meeting Fandral’s with a hint of apology.

He shook his head with a smile and kissed Loki’s cheek to reassure him, before the prince moved to get up off the bed.

“Wait right there,” Loki said softly. He extended his hands towards Fandral and a green light flared out, then settled over him like a net.

Fandral lay back on the bed under his illusion and watched as Loki padded towards the door, smoothing his hair and straightening his clothes as he went. As he reached the door, there was another knock and Loki pulled the door open unceremoniously to reveal a shocked looking Thor. His hand was still upraised, ready to continue knocking.

“Brother!” Thor said, smiling. “I confess I did not expect you to open your door.”

Loki smiled tightly and nodded. There was a moment of awkward silence between the pair until Loki said blankly, “Did you need something, or did you simply want to see if I would open my door?”

Thor cleared his throat and looked down towards his feet where a tray piled high with all manner of bread, fruit, cheese and cold meats was waiting. He stooped and picked up the tray, holding it out in front of him awkwardly.

“I, uh, brought you some food,” he said. “I thought you might be hungry. I know you, um, haven’t been eating much these last few days…”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, “Checking up on me already are you? Does father worry about my wellbeing or is he just concerned that I will not be able to keep up with his ridiculous training?”

Thor looked chastened, and Fandral wished he could soothe Loki somehow. He knew Thor was not deliberately cruel, but it seemed Loki was not yet ready to forgive his brother for the pain he had caused, no matter how indirectly it had been done.

“I have not spoken to Father for a few days,” Thor replied quietly. His shoulders were hunched and he regarded Loki with sad eyes. “The concern is my own. Even if you refuse to leave your chambers ever again, you still need to eat.”

Loki’s posture relaxed and he regarded the tray with less distrust. He smiled tightly and took the food. “Thank you,” Loki said.

Thor nodded, smiling tentatively, “You’re most welcome. Even though I would respect your choice to stay hidden here forever, I would be very sad if it were so. And I know our friends would miss you, also.”

Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow, “Really? I doubt Sif misses my company.”

Thor grimaced slightly, knowing how right his brother was. “I know Fandral would miss you! In fact, he was asking after you just yesterday.”

“Was he really,” Loki inquired airily, feigning disinterest as he turned away from the door to place the tray of food on his bedside table. He met Fandral’s eyes and gave him a lopsided smile. Although his eyes were not quite back to their usual level of mischievous sparkle, Fandral was pleased to see a flicker of warmth back in their blue depths.

Thor hovered awkwardly on the threshold for a moment, before taking a few tentative steps into the room. “Yes indeed, I believe he said something about having a gift for you. A tome of some kind that you asked for…” Thor trailed off as he took in the chaotic state of Loki’s chambers.

Loki turned back to Thor and said, “Well that was very good of him. I shall have to think of a way to repay his kindness.”

“I trust you’ll think of something,” Thor replied absently, looking around the room in concern.

Loki turned to survey the room as well, before turning to look directly at Fandral and practically purring, “I’m sure I will.”

The prince winked at Fandral, who swallowed thickly and bit his lip to stop himself making a sound.

“What happened here, brother? It looks like a natural disaster has crashed through,” Thor said, brow furrowed.

“I have not heard anyone call me that before, but I’m glad the insults are getting more inventive,” Loki responded, crossing his arms over his chest. “People really do come up with the most interesting nicknames for me…”

“Loki,” Thor started, taking a step towards his brother. Loki stepped delicately backwards. The outright anger was less prominent in his face, but the hurt was clear for even Thor to see.

Thor’s face crumpled, but he took a step backwards. “I’m sorry for how Father acted yesterday. I wish I could change his mind…”

“You could have tried,” Loki interrupted quietly. “Said something, anything.”

“I did try!” Thor said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “But you know what he’s like…” Thor trailed off as Loki looked away, clearly not interested in excuses. Thor sighed, jaw clenching as he tried to reign in his temper. “I know you are angry with me, brother, but it is done now. All I can do is apologise and make it up to you.”

Loki looked back at Thor, eyes trailing over him for a few moments, assessing him. Then Loki nodded and said slightly sadly, “Yes. I suppose that is all you can do, brother.” Loki smiled tightly and moved back towards the door, holding it open. “Thank you for the food.”

Thor’s shoulders dropped, recognising Loki’s actions for the dismissal that they were. He moved back to the door, turning around once he was out in the corridor. “Will you come and join me for lunch? Or dinner perhaps?”

“I’ll think about it,” Loki replied, closing the door gently. He leaned his forehead against the wood and sighed deeply.

Fandral sat up on the bed, displacing the green shimmering net that had concealed him. He didn’t say anything, partly because Thor might still be close enough to hear but also because he thought Loki might not want him to say anything.

Loki stayed against the door until they heard Thor’s footsteps retreating down the hall. He then turned back to Fandral and flashed him a tight smile, “Would you care to share some breakfast with me?”

Fandral smiled back as Loki came to sit on the bed next to him and slid the tray closer. Loki began arranging the spread of food out on his blankets, turning the bed into a makeshift picnic area.

“I feel I should say something but I confess that I am not sure what,” Fandral said.

“It’s alright Fandral,” Loki replied. He looked over at Fandral with warmth, but there was also a sense of resignation about his expression. “In truth, I am not sure what else there is to be said. It is what it is…”

Fandral nodded and clapped his hands together, trying to shrug off the sombre mood. “Well, if that is the case let us stop sitting here dwelling upon it”, he said. “Let us eat! I for one could eat a horse.”

“There is plenty to share,” Loki remarked wryly, eying the array of food before them. “We can be thankful that Thor’s appetite is far greater than my own.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to put a little more meat on those bones,” Fandral said, a coy smile on face as Loki handed him a plate.

Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow, “Now you sound like my mother.”

Fandra laughed, and was pleased to see Loki crack a smile in return. He wasn’t sure that things were truly okay, and Fandral had a bad feeling that all these tensions between the royal family might come to a head in a spectacular fashion, but for now Loki was smiling. And really, that was enough for him.

Chapter Text

In the weeks following the altercation between Odin and his sons, Loki slowly started leaving his room once more. Fandral even saw him sharing a midday meal with Thor, though he could tell from the set of Loki’s shoulders and the furrow of Thor’s brow that there was still plenty of tension between the brothers. Fandral tried to get Loki to speak of it with him, but there was no moving the prince on the subject. Any further discussion of his family was currently off limits, so Fandral had no choice but to let it lie.

As for the Allfather’s orders, it seemed that Loki was following them for now. There was no mischief or trickery in the Aesir palace - at least, none that was overly destructive.

Fandral continued to see Loki as much as possible, but now that he was more aware of the true strain Loki had been under from palace life, Fandral began to recognise the depth of Loki’s discontent. He noticed that Loki was increasingly absent for long periods of time, which was not unusual in itself, but the fact that Fandral was unable to find him on numerous occasions was more concerning. Fandral thought he had discovered all of Loki’s favorite hiding places over their many years as friends and throughout their more recent courtship. Now, however, Fandral was beginning to understand that not even he could locate the prince if Loki truly did not want to be found.

When he did see Loki, the prince seemed far more preoccupied and easily distracted than normal. He was still warm and sweet with Fandral, but he would often become lost in thought at a moment’s notice. His gaze would become shuttered, and when Fandral called Loki’s attention back he would only give Fandral a wan smile or a dismissive quip, and that would be that.

He hated to admit it, but Fandral’s pride was wounded at the thought that maybe he did not know Loki as well as he believed. He had thought they were making progress towards being more open with each other after the night they had shared in Loki's chambers. Did Loki just need space for a while to get his thoughts straight? Or did the prince just not trust him enough to open up any further?

Fandral tried to silence these traiterous thoughts by throwing himself into his warrior training. Indeed, even Loki was showing up to the training fields with more frequency and far less of his usual snark. This in itself was cause for Fandral to be concerned, as Loki's sarcasm and complaining were replaced by a grave, almost forlorn expression.

Fandral caught up with Loki after one such training session, as Loki was making a hurried escape from the grounds.

"My Prince!" Fandral called, jogging to reach Loki's side before he disappeared. Loki turned to him with a smile, although the look in his eyes remained distant and unfocused.

"Hello, Fandral," Loki said, his voice warm.

"Uh, I thought perhaps I could walk you to the midday meal, if you were heading that way?" Fandral asked, trying to come up with a reason to walk with Loki at the last minute.

Loki shuffled his feet and looked away. "I was heading to my chambers actually," he said. "I have to wash up for my afternoon studies."

Fandral deflated slightly. Was Loki avoiding him now? He shook his head to banish that thought and pressed on, "Well, maybe I could walk you there then. It is, uh, still on the way to the barracks…"

Loki spared a glance over his shoulder, as though worried someone would overhear Fandral's poor excuses. When he looked back at Fandral and his eyes softened slightly. "Alright then," Loki replied quietly.

Fandral looked towards the training ground where his friends were still putting away their equipment. They all were distracted by something Thor was saying, so no one saw the two of them leave in the direction of the palace. Loki walked in silence, eyes downcast as if hoping to avoid drawing any attention to himself.

Fandral cleared his throat and tried to start some amiable conversation, unsure how well it would be received in Loki's current mood.

"What part of your studies are you working on at the moment?" he asked.

"Oh you know, only things that will keep me out of trouble" Loki replied with a tight smile, bitterness seeping into his words.

It almost sounded as though he was quoting someone, Fandral thought. Likely his father, no doubt. Fandral nodded and held back a sigh - Loki was clearly in no mind for small talk.

He walked beside Loki in companionble silence, as it seemed the prince was unwilling to contribute any kind of conversation, until they reached some of the quieter halls of the royal residences. Fandral looked around to make sure there was no one else nearby before moving closer to Loki.

“Can I confess something?" he asked.

Loki's brow furrowed. "Here?" he all but whispered back.

Fandral pursed his lips and realised that Loki was right. They couldn't talk about anything meaningful while out in the halls where anyone could walk past. Loki narrowed his eyes slightly, before taking Fandral's arm and dragging him towards a plain wooden door.

It turned out to be a servant's storage area behind the door, no bigger than Fandral's small bedchambers. The room was filled with mops, buckets, sponges, and all manner of other cleaning supplies. As Loki closed the door behind them, he touched the handle and whispered an incantation. Moments later, a green hue flashed over the door, before fading to a translucent shimmer.

"We can talk privately now if you wish," Loki said. He was still smiling at Fandral but was shifting his weight almost impatiently. Or nervously?

Fandral smiled back and took the prince in his arms, hoping to ease some of his tension. He hugged Loki gently, and Loki almost melted into the embrace, his body relaxing against Fandral's. Fandral pulled back and cupped Loki's cheek, seeking permission. In response, Loki brushed his nose against Fandral's and leaned forwards for a chaste kiss. He moved away far too quickly for Fandral's liking, but Loki held onto his hand.

"I believe you said something about a confession?" Loki said, expectant eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Fandral said. He squeezed Loki's hand. "I wanted to confess something that has been on my mind these past weeks. Although we have been together the same amount as we normally would recently, I cannot help feeling as though I have not truly seen you in weeks since… since that night in your chambers.”

Loki sighed and sat down on an overturned bucket. He held onto Fandral's hand, forcing him to crouch down in front of where Loki now perched.

Loki tipped his head back against the wall, "I am sorry, Fandral. I am just trying to balance all my duties to my father while keeping up with my studies. It is keeping me very busy, I hardly even realised how much time has passed."

Fandral squeezed Loki's fingers and said, "Perhaps you could tell me about it?"

Loki huffed, "I go to combat training, I study my sorcery, I quell my mischief and all is peaceful and as it should be in the palace." He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "All is as Odin wanted. What more is there to say?"

"I just thought we agreed the other night to work things out together? Share our burdens?" Fandral said, but Loki's eyes darted away from him. He placed his other hand on Loki's knee, "All I want is to support you."

"And yet, there is nothing more you can do right now, dear Fandral," Loki said, sounding almost exasperated. "People continue to tell tales about me behind my back or stare at me out the corners of their eyes since all this business with the elves. Thor continues being clueless about all of it, and I am once again miserable." Loki shrugged. "Perhaps things are not so different after all. Except for you, of course."

Loki smiled tightly at Fandral, but his eyes were so sad. It broke Fandral's heart. "What about your mother?" he asked. "And Thor? Surely they worry after you also?"

"Perhaps they do," Loki said, looking away again. "But I have not seen much of either of them recently."

Fandral's brow furrowed. "Not even your mother? But I thought you had been working on your magic so much lately…"

"Yes, but I have not been practicing with her as often as I used to. I find studying alone is more conducive to my progress now," Loki said, clenching his jaw.

Loki…" Fandral started hesitantly. He didn't want to anger the prince but surely Loki could not go on like this? Fandral forged on, "Perhaps you should reconsider? Maybe your progress is helped but your mood is clearly not."

Loki smiled that tight smile again. "Yes, I cannot hide from you Fandral. You alone truly see me," Loki said. Was there even some bitterness in his voice? Or was Fandral just letting his fears get the better of him?

"I do not mean to worry you with my melancholy," Loki went on, squeezing Fandral's hand. "I think I just need to reorient myself to the way things are right now. I am sure I'll be back to my normal self in no time. I just wish… but no, never mind."

Fandral tried to smile his most encouraging smile, keeping his worry stubbornly buried. "I will be here to help, always, my love," he said.

"I know," Loki said thoughtfully. He shook his head as if to clear it, before trailing the backs of his knuckles delicately along Fandral's cheek. "But how are you faring, Fandral? Are you still being interrogated by Thor and his troop?

Fandral could not stop himself from leaning in to Loki's caress. He sighed and said, "Yes, but their inquiries are far less now. I had a talk with Hogun."

Loki's fingers froze on the side of Fandral's face. There was was concern written all over Loki's features. Fandral grasped Loki's wrist and reassured him hurriedly, "Fear not, I told him nothing of you or the nature of our relationship. But he guessed that the person in my life is something special, more than anyone before, and he agreed to speak to our friends about lessening their teasing. Thankfully it seems they have heeded his words."

Loki nodded thoughtfully, eyes growing distant again. "And they’ve had more interesting morsels of gossip to trade in lately," he said.

Fandral sighed. Well this just would not do, surely there was some way that he could take Loki's mind off things like he had the other night. Fandral squeezed Loki's hand again and gave one of his most dazzling smiles, "Have dinner with me tonight. I miss you! It might do us both some good to relax for a bit and forget our troubles."

Loki's eyes darted back to Fandral for a moment, then away once more. "I am afraid I cannot tonight," Loki said. After a moment's pause, he continued, "But I will be in the secret garden tomorrow afternoon working on some new spells. You could bring refreshments, if it would please you?"

"Your wish is my command, my darling," Fandral replied, kissing the back of Loki's hand.

Loki's distant expression gave way to something softer, and more genuine. The kind of sweet gaze that was only reserved for Fandral, and he had hardly seen it since that night spent by Loki's side. Frankly, it was a relief for Fandral to see it again.

And then all at once it was gone again. Loki cleared his throat and rose from his position on the bucket. Fandral stayed crouched as Loki fussed with the enchantment on the door, his heart squeezing from the ups and downs of their conversation.

"Until tomorrow, Fandral," Loki said quietly, slipping from the tiny room before Fandral could reply.

Fandral scrubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to push down the maelstom of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. Worry, despair, and frustration all warred inside him at Loki's confounding behaviour. It seemed like it was one step forward and three steps backwards at the moment. Fandral desperately hoped that he and Loki could weather the tempest that he feared was looming over the palace.