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“My son was twice dead, and lost in between. Now he stands before. Can a father not rejoice?” Odin asked, perhaps a bit loudly, raising his goblet towards Loki.
“I told you when I first came to you on Earth… There will be a day when you do not return, and all my tears will already be spent in mourning you falsely. But for every time you return, I shall be glad of it, brother.” Thor said, in a softer tone, raising his glass a fraction. “To the reunion of our family.” he announced.
A snide smirk formed on Loki’s lips at both of their comments. Rejoice? Tears spent? Mourning? Still he raised his glass before taking a courteous sip. “Still, it seems quite a bit for someone who isn’t even family.” Meaning it as teasing remark and not expecting it to come out as harshly as it did. Quickly he bowed his head.
Perhaps some conviction lay in his expression since some of what he spoke was the truth; not to mention his underlying bitterness from past wounds and his still constant battle with his identity.
The King’s Council Chamber was a room just off of the Great Hall. It was smaller, by comparison, but still rather large. Enough to host a gathering of around 50 people. Or for a detachment of 50 guards to defend their King in crisis. There wasn’t a throne as elaborate as the one in the Hall, but there was a golden chair, on a modestly raised platform, at the center back of the room.
There was no grand council table laid out now, making the room seem large and empty. Only a small round table set by the columns of the balcony. Odin and Thor already sat at there, a pitcher and three goblets of clear lilac drink the only thing on it.
Thor had changed out of his more royal regalia. He didn’t even wear his usual breastplate and cape, instead wearing layered red and grey tunics. Gungir laid across the arms of the Royal Seat, far out of reach of the table. Mjolnir rested on the seat just below it.
The doors opened for Loki at his knock. Thor stood from his seat, as did Odin.
“Welcome. Come, sit with us, brother. Let us first toast to our reunion.” Thor said with a gentle smile, picking up one of the gold and glass goblets. “I brought up one of the casks of Elven mead from the King’s reserve.” A rare treat indeed, even by Asgardian standards. The stone barrels were small, and aged for centuries. The limited stock was only brought out for the most auspicious occasions.
Walking towards them he kept his hands linked behind him in the small of his back; fingers curled into tight fists. Looking visibly relaxed but subtle signs showed his unease. Everything about this just made him uncomfortable. Where was the wrath? The punishment? Loki had built up this reunion in his mind for so long, creating multitudes of scenarios of how this would play out and he was woefully unprepared.
Taking in a deep breath, he forced his thoughts to cease their frantic racing and came to stand by Odin and Thor; not yet sitting as he took his glass.
“Just what exactly are we celebrating? This seems to be much for a simple meeting.” Loki bit his lower lip as he gestured down at his goblet.
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“All people of great power have done things that burden their souls. No one is immune to it, no matter how cleverly they try to escape it.” Odin replied. “What you have done, has been done. For all our many centuries, for all our strength, we cannot go back and change our pasts, no matter how much we wish to.”
“Father.” came Thor’s voice. He had entered the garden, staff in hand, still in his gleaming armour and helm, the marks of his acting authority.
“You!” Odin said, spinning around. “How long did you think to keep this from me, you wretched boy?!” he spat. “How dare you!”
“Father.” Thor repeated, and this time it rang with a strength that had so often left the young Princes quaking, when it came from the Allfather. Odin paused, a frown on his face.
“It was my intention to come here and tell you myself. I only learned of Loki’s survival myself mere hours ago. His life was in no danger, nor was anyone else’s from his presence here, so I saw no fault in attending to the duties of my station before addressing this… more personal family matter.”
Odin seemed to deflate a little, looking tired and ancient. He sighed, giving a very slight nod of agreement.
Thor was nothing like Odin. The Allfather had once forced the eldest prince’s hand every waking moment, grooming him to follow in the path he had carved out for him but Thor was nothing like him. There was a softness to his heart, a softness that came from Frigga. The one common thing they did share was a pigheadedness that drove them both to the edge of conflict.
Loki had been a mediator between them or so long it was natural instinct as sparks began to fly that he took a step forward; readying himself to stand between them.
“It’s alright.” He sighed as the situation diffused much quicker than he was used to. “I.. It’s not Thor’s fault, I was hiding myself even from Heimdall’s gaze. I know.. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, please just–” Loki looked back to Thor with a gentle expression, “can we agree to a ceasefire. Hostilities won’t do us any good.
“Perhaps we can adjourn somewhere and talk. There is more than just my treason and hiding to discuss. The reason for my actions on Midgard to allowing you to believe I had perished on Svartalfheim are closely related. I’m just sorry I didn’t trust either of you anymore to come to you with the truth.”
Thor looked between Loki and Odin speculatively. It would appear that their reunion had, at least, not been exceptionally volatile. That alone was cause for hope.
Odin listened to Loki, but stood facing Thor. As if studying him for the first time in a long while.
“I’m not here to start hostilities. On the contrary, I rushed here thinking your reunion would be much… well, much more hostile, to be honest.” Thor said with the faintest hint of a smirk. “I think it wise that each of us take an hour to collect our thoughts. Then I will meet you both in the King’s Council Chambers.” Thor suggested.
“I used to look at you, and see a little boy, whose hands were too small to wrap around Gungir’s shaft. It seems, that now, once I have stopped trying to make you a king… you have finally grown into one. Gungir suits you well.” Odin said.
Thor shifted slightly, grip on the spear tightening ever so slightly.
“To be honest so did I..” Loki admitted bashfully. “I didn’t know what I was going to. Once, perhaps I would have let my anger control me but now? I am just to tired.” Taking a step back he began to turn away until he heard Odin’s comment.
It certainly was true, Thor in his youth seemed impossible to pin down and Loki had doubted his brothers leadership and strength to be king. Yet as time progressed as experiences aged them, they grew into what they were meant to be.
“I am proud of you brother, this time I know you are ready.” Loki winked before turning away and heading back to his chambers.
The empty halls eased his anxious mind, no glances or glares in his direction. Once in his room he took a moment to change into his old clothes; a green tunic, brown leggings and a leather robe. Dressing almost like he did in his cell, forgoing any of his old armour. Not feeling he was deserving of it. Even trying to tame his hair by slicking it back like he used to but settling on a messy, half bun to keep it out of his face.
Soon he was standing outside the Counsil Chambers, a hesitant fist reaching up before knocking thrice.
Slowly life returned on Loki’s features. When his skin turned from icy blue to pale ivory, Sif felt deep relief. Loki was coming back to her. She picked herself up from the floor and came to look at Loki’s healing injuries. The stasis chamber repaired fatal damage but didn’t remove brusing or scars that the body would deal with naturally. There was a dark bruise, shaped like a giant hand, around Loki’s throat. If the assailant had but a hair’s width more strength in it, they would have popped Loki’s head away from the spinal column, and then there would have been nothing to save.
Loki’s lips moved, and Sif hurried to open the chamber.
“Shh… shh…” she pulled him against her chest. “No words now…”
For a moment she just wanted to hold him, comforted by knowing that al least Loki was aluve and with her. There would be time for everything else, and she needed this, this one win.
When she finally pulled away, Sif’s eyes caught on the stasis chamber controllers.
“What… five cycles… that can’t be right?” Sif frowned at the timer. “Why does this say you’ve been in the stasis for five cycles?”
Tears fell without any shame as she pulled him in close; Loki thought he would never see her again after he had seen the Titan’s ship on the horizon. He had lost so much but he hadn’t lost her.
Facing Thanos after all these years he knew it was his end. The Titan would never let him live after what he had done but if he had to die, well, giving his last breath to ensure his brother lived was always enough for Loki. “Thor..” He tried to ask, his voice nothing more than raspy air and syllables mouthed. Yet as soon as Sif’s attention was pulled away so was his.
Glancing down at the panel he was thrown into a state of confusion. Reaching down he tapped to the keys to bring up the detailed log.
A holograph rose out of the screen and showed in fine detail his vitals, steady in stasis for a little over five years.
Shaking his head he pushed himself out of the chamber and onto his feet, nearly falling if he hadn’t reached out to braced himself. Taking slow and shaking steps to the cockpit and bringing up the ships log. The computer coming to life and nearly blinding him with brightness. Schematics showing how the ship had gone into low power mode after remaining adrift for so long.
His first thoughts going out to his brother. If it had truly been five years, what had happened? Was Thanos defeated? Did he win? Was Thor dead?
