Chapter Text
“Well, the choice is obvious.” Helblindi is Loki’s eldest brother, the one who was meant to do all the protecting and actual parenting when Laufey was busy since their mother passed, and currently his least favourite.
“What do you mean ‘the choice is obvious’, brother?” Loki narrows his eyes at him, sure that if he just glares hard enough Helblindi will do away with the ridiculous need to please their father and be on his side for a change.
Predictably, his efforts are a fruitless endeavour.
“Loki. You can’t seriously think you aren’t the best candidate for this. Your size makes you the most preferable by eons alone, not to mention that the last time either of us met the Asgardians it was on a battlefield where we attempted to slay every single one we came across.”
“Yes. And lost,” he spits venomously, the sharp taste of betrayal leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
“Don’t be childish, Loki,” Laufey admonishes.
I’m the youngest, I’m allowed to be childish, he thinks petulantly, and it must show on his face because his other brother, Býleistr, shoots him an apologetic look.
“Father, he is being forced to marry before either of us. Can’t we allow a little bitterness?”
“I suppose, but, Loki,” Laufey implores, “try and think of the positives here-“
“The positives!” Loki jumps up from his seat as the sudden burst of righteous indignation hits him. “You’re marrying me off to someone I have never met and, quite frankly, don’t like.”
There’s a whisper behind him, no doubt a comment from Helblindi about his contradiction, but he steadfastly ignores the rising blush in his cheeks and instead crosses his arms angrily at his father.
“Yes! The positives!” Oh, and now their father is getting frustrated too. Wonderful. “We get to secure peace with Asgard and not suffer the shame of losing yet another war. It might not have been today, or tomorrow, or even a century from now, but it would happen eventually and you know that.”
“You just want the casket back.”
“No. Believe it or not Loki, this might be best for you. You are vulnerable here, too rare and beautiful, too precious, to be kept here forever when there are those around us that would desire you just for your appearance and what they might trade it for.” It’s true, he knows that even amongst his own kind he is an oddity unlike any other; he’s small, comically so for a Jötunn, with an affinity for magic and strategy rather than brute strength, not to mention that he is startlingly, breathtakingly, wholly and completely: white. Head to toe. His mother used to say he was kissed by the moon as a child, xe always took great pride in calling Loki þeir little stjarna before xe died. “You could be safe in Asgard, my child, the Aesir would not know your worth like it is known here.” Because they’re too bigoted to see past the Frost Giant angle. “There are guards everywhere and if not you can use the change in location to broaden your knowledge of seiðr, that way you could be safe and keep yourself entertained all the while.” Loki still looked dejected, but at least his anger had softened somewhat. “I’m not saying it will be easy,” Laufey lays a large palm on Loki’s shoulder and forces their gaze to meet, “because it won’t be. But know I would not ask this of you if I did not think you could do it and be made happier for it.”
He’s still put out.
He makes a show of thinking about it, huffing and pacing with his hands on his hips, scrunching up his face as if in deep, tumultuous thought, just to see them stew for a minute more.
“Before we formally agree I want the prince to accompany Odin on his next journey here. He must meet the three of you and only then will I decide if I am going to be a terror or not.” The way his father and brothers react would have make any bystander think he’d asked for the all the Nine themselves.
Laufey just gave him a look that said he knew that wasn’t the end of their commands.
“Furthermore, I am going to need some new clothes fit for life on Asgard. You can’t expect me to survive there as uncovered as I always am here. No, the sun alone with be my undoing if no preparations are made…”
***
“Mother, you wanted to speak to me?” Thor stands at the door to his mother’s library. Frigga waves a hand and her handmaidens scatter from where they were sat chatting pleasantly to one and another and to their queen.
The Queen always manages to look wholly serene wherever she is, but never more than when Thor visits her here, surrounded by her books and lounging on one of the ornate chaise’ Odin had crafted especially for her when they married so long ago.
“Yes. Sit with me a moment.” She smiles warmly at him and pats the space next to her on the cushion. He’s only slightly apprehensive as he joins her, it isn’t often he gets called expressly to her.
“Are you well, mother?”
“Of course.” Frigga sits up from her slouching posture and turns to face him. “Odin has asked me to… intercede with you on his behalf.” He waits patiently for her to continue, and if this is about the woman from Vanir he had nothing to do with it. “As you know, Asgard has been at a kind of war with Jötunheimr now for many millennia. Your father would seek to end the hostility between us, bring about peace throughout the Nine, and has gone today to propose an alliance.” He nods to show he’s listening. Peace with the Frost Giants isn’t necessarily a bad idea, but he can’t help but balk slightly at the prospect of welcoming them to the palace were they ever to journey to Asgard as a gesture of good faith or something equally as pointless. “The Allfather believes that the best way to secure a long-lasting amnesty between our realms is a marriage.”
A marriage.
A marriage- to a Frost Giant.
Frigga, bless her heart, at least gives him longer than Odin would to process the information.
“Father wants me to marry one of them?!” Frigga deflates, for a moment there she’d actually believed he could handle the news like an adult.
“Thor, you knew that as the crown prince of Asgard you would have to marry to someone of our choosing one day.”
“Well- yes,” he splutters, “not to a Frost Giant though! And not this soon either; they are our sworn enemy and now you want me to marry one of them? And Laufey has only sons! You would condemn me to a fruitless marriage?” He is a God of Fertility, his destiny of having a successful lineage has never been called into question before. As the Allmother and Father’s only son, and lone heir to the throne, it has always been his responsibility to continue the royal bloodline. Not for a moment can he imagine abandoning the future he has always dreamed of because he’s being forced to marry a Frost Giant.
“If you’ve quite finished!” He shuts up immediately, Frigga’s sharp voice ringing in his ears. “Now, Thor. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of rumours about the Jötnar-” she waits for him to acknowledge her words as truth “-good. Then I am certain you have heard that they are neither men nor women, that they are both sower and carrier when it comes to their offspring, and that any couple may produce a child.”
“That cannot be true, mother; I have slain their kind on the battlefield, met the King’s sons in blood and anger, they are not kind, nor are they nurturing. They would slay us all if given the chance and any child of theirs would be an abomination.”
“You will cease with this foul prejudice at once, Thor Odinson! The people will look to you for guidance on how to behave when your betrothed comes to Asgard, you will be gracious in performing your duties because that is what I and the Allfather have ordered of you! If we are to bring about a new age of peace between our realms you must show that you can be responsible and do what is right for your people instead of just yourself. You will grow out of this selfishness, my son, otherwise you will never be worthy of the throne,” she finishes sternly.
And isn’t that just it? The Allfather is tired, it’s been centuries since he last succumbed to the Odinsleep, Thor would need to prove his worth as future king before the Allfather could finally retire his duties and pass-on the mantle of King of Asgard, Allfather, and Protector of the Nine Realms.
“I am sorry, My Queen,” some formality goes at least a short way to smoothing her ruffled feathers. “I will agree to the union as a sign of my loyalty and respect to the throne of Asgard and carry out my duties in the manner befitting the king.”
Frigga gives one single curt nod of assent. “Thank you. You are dismissed.” He stands from his place at her side and makes towards the exit where he knocks and waits for the guards to open the doors. “I still love you, my son,” she calls after him just as he’s about to cross the threshold.
“Thank you, mother,” he mutters back solemnly.