~Asgard, three days ago, the night Sigyn took Jane home~

Despite the freezing winds whipping across the open air balcony, the royal business quarters were positively stifling.  Frigga was tired.  Beyond tired.  Her bones ached.  She was trapped in a palace, playing king to the realm eternal, and all she wanted to do was leave.  

Rubbing her temples as the headmistress from Vanaheim’s academy of healing seiður blathered on about … something (something that Frigga could care less about in her current state of mind), she sighed.  She’d stopped listening.  In truth, she’d never started listening.  From the moment the insufferable Vanir healer had walked in the room, Frigga had checked out mentally.  

Desiring sanctuary from the barrage of complaints and requests from the foreign nobles and dignitaries and representatives who had been stuck in Asgard, no thanks to a broken bifrost, for three months now, Frigga had retired from the throne room five hours ago, and yet this woman seated across from her just had to see the queen about an urgent matter.  

Everything was urgent.  Everyone had an urgent need—Every. Single. One.  Frigga’s seemingly endless patience was reaching its breaking point.  Doing her best to hide the roll of her eyes, Frigga smiled at the woman, though it was strained at best.  She waved of her hand, cutting off the other woman’s words.

“I shall speak with the king again at first meal tomorrow morning, Fiora.  I do not know what more you think I can do.  As you know, Thor has taken a great deal of responsibility in the reconstruction of the bifrost.  It is his number one concern, and I must agree with him.  Without it we are not only near powerless, but we are unable to transport you along with all our esteemed guests back to your realms.”

Fiora rubbed the back of her neck and nodded though a frown made deep creases in her brow. “Indeed, his majesty is quite right to put tireless effort into the bridge.  Though I can see that the responsibilities that he has heaped on you are overwhelming.”

Frigga stared blankly at her, choosing to ignore the thinly veiled insult.

“I imagine he feels responsible for its demise,” Fiora continued, “but surely you have more knowledge as to the timeline.  I have no way of communicating with my professors at the academy.  It is not only our pupils who need instruction, but the teachers require my expertise.  I am wrought with worry.  Our people come to the healing rooms at the academy when in dire need.  Without me I fear that-”

“You are not the only foreign representative trapped in Asgard,” Frigga interrupted, her voice raising a touch, “and I must oversee every single need by delegation.  I am only one woman, and I’d ask you to keep that in mind when you decide to request audience with me after business hours.  Your concern is, like every other concern, of great importance, but my hands are tied without the bifrost in working order.  No, as I have already stated, I do not know when it will be complete.  We’ve never dealt with a broken bridge before, therefore I cannot give you specifics.  My son informed me yesterday that they are more than halfway now.”

Fiora blew out a hot breath, her cheeks tinting a bit at the queen’s tone, and she stood. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” she said with a bow and made for the door but paused in her retreat at Frigga’s voice.

“Eir has asked for your help in the healing rooms,” Frigga offered, rising to her feet. “Our gatekeeper is still in need.  His sight is imperative not only to Asgard but to all the realms.  Truly, I believe your expertise would be of great help in his surgery this week, and surely that is preferable to just waiting.  Vanaheim is known for its expert healing magic.  Your rivers overflow with it.  With your background from a different realm, your help might be the difference for which Eir has been looking.”  

Stunned by Frigga’s words, Fiora turned quickly, eyes wide, head tilted sideways. “Eir requested me personally?” At Frigga’s nodding, Fiora straightened her shoulders. “In that case, I will of course attend to your gatekeeper’s needs.  I live to heal.  It is my greatest calling.”

Relief flooded Frigga’s veins, and she smiled brightly.  At least one crisis had been averted today.  That, and Eir truly believed the headmistress from the academy would help to finally heal Heimdall.  Vanir magic was so unlike Æsir magic, and though Eir was the most practiced and capable healer in Asgard, she wasn’t so arrogant as to refuse help, or ask for it.  

Fiora bowed once more and left without another word.  Gesturing for the guards to close the doors, Frigga walked to the balcony, the pleasantly cold air relieving the claustrophobic heat of the room.  Cold—Freezing cold.  

Loki.  Her boy.  Her baby boy.  Her beloved boy.  He’d always loved cold days, complaining of Asgard’s constant warmth.  Hanging her head, she gripped the stone railing, its ice covered surface burning her fingers.  She could hear his voice even now.

“Mother, you’ll freeze!  What do you think you are, a frost giant?  Come back inside.”

He’d said those very words to her not seven months ago.  Before he’d met Sigyn.  Before he’d gone with Thor to Jotunheim on that foolish quest for answers, as Thor had claimed.  Before he’d learned the truth.  Oh Loki, darling.  They should have told him.  From the moment he could have comprehended the term adopted, they should have told him.  Memories, dreadful memories slithered through her mind, his once words cutting her right to the bone.

“I always knew I was different….”

Frigga let go of the railing, one hand rubbing the back of her neck, the other covering her mouth to stifle a cry.

“At the basest level, one could not, upon looking at us, see even a slight family resemblance …”

She swallowed back a sob.  Tears poured down her cheeks, her own words spoken to him the day he discovered the truth mocking her.

“We made a mistake, dearest.”

She clutched her stomach, an ache worse than a knife wound twisting her insides.  His answer had wrecked her.

“Mistake?  MISTAKE?  That’s a fucking HUGE  mistake!”

Her grief was unbearable.  How could it hurt like this still?  Emerald eyes, eyes full of tears, full of pain, full of betrayal, haunted her.

“Loki Laufeyson….”

Frigga screamed aloud then, “ENOUGH!”

She gripped her head in agony as two guards bolted into the room then, their faces wrought with concern. “Your grace?  Are you hurt?” Grabbing her skirts and wiping her cheeks dry, she turned and smiled weakly. “I am fine.”

Bowing, frowns gracing their features, the guards left her alone, and she returned to the desk.  Another voice echoed in her mind, and for a moment she thought it was real.  She turned in a circle searching for its owner.

“You dote on him far too much, Frigga.  You forget that you have two sons….”

She crossed the room to the doors of her husband’s room and pushed them open forcefully. “Odin?”

Still enshrouded in the golden restoring magic of the Odinsleep, the Allfather hadn’t moved.

“You forget that you have two sons, Frigga,” she repeated his once words.  She wrung her hands and exhaled slowly. “Oh Thor, promise you won’t leave me, too,” she spoke to the empty room. “I cannot lose both my boys.”

Frigga longed to speak with her eldest son.  He’d become more and more reclusive with each passing day, not that she blamed him.  The throne was more burden than it was privilege.  That was, if its power did not corrupt, if one desired to do what was right and true and good and just.  And regardless of what may or may not have been said about him in the taverns as of late, Thor was a good man.  He wanted to do what was right, what was best for the realm, and despite the weariness Frigga felt due to her incessant duties, she now trusted Thor’s judgment call to complete the bridge first and foremost.  No doubt he felt personally responsible, and perhaps serving on his hands and knees in freezing rain was something akin to penance for his actions, in his mind.  

Yes, the bridge occupied most of Thor’s time, but even when he wasn’t doing the backbreaking labor, Frigga rarely saw him outside of shared meals.  She’d asked trusted guards and servants to report his whereabouts to her, and it wasn’t long before she knew his secret sanctuary—Sif.  Frigga didn’t judge him for abandoning Jane in favor of his longtime friend.  Not one bit.  He didn’t need any further judgment than that which was heaped upon him from the rest of the realm.  Not only that, but Thor had known the war goddess since he could barely walk, and they had been good friends from the start.  And at a time like this, when he was obviously still drowning in grief over Loki, he needed the deep love of a friend more than anything a pretty little human could give.  Granted, he could have handled the situation more tactfully, but Frigga wasn’t about to bother him with it.  He was a big boy, and he needed to learn from his own mistakes.  

Thor had lost far more than just Loki on that horrid day when the Jotuns had attacked.  In the eyes of the people, and Frigga was well aware of their fickle nature, Thor had lost his worth as not only a prince but as a man.  No one spoke poorly of him to Frigga directly, but the palace walls had ears, and she was privy to the nastiest of gossip.  No doubt he heard it, too.  She was quite sure that his actions were in direct response to their people’s hasty judgment.  

Once more, Loki came to the forefront of her mind.  Her youngest had always felt small in the eyes of his father.  She was sure that smallness, that feeling of insignificance, of being less than Thor, had dictated Loki’s more devious tricks.  Why should Loki have bothered to be a good boy when his own father had never praised his efforts?  Odin had only heaped attention on Loki in order to discipline or correct him.  It was no wonder Loki had chosen to misbehave (that was putting it lightly) so often.  Frigga had constantly encouraged Odin to show more affection toward their adopted son, but Odin had waved her concerns off.  He had deemed it more important to focus on Thor in order to shape him into ‘king material’ as he’d once told her.  She knew her husband had loved Loki, in his own way, but it hadn’t been what Loki needed.  Not even close.  Of course, she knew this wasn’t just her husband’s fault.  She’d had plenty opportunity to reveal the truth to Loki.  She’d chosen to trust Odin’s judgment though.  Oh how wrong she had been.

Frigga sat down next to Odin’s bed and held his hand. “You have no idea how much I miss our son,” she said to his sleeping form, “and don’t you dare tell me to concern myself with our other son.  Thor is … well … he’ll be fine, but I just cannot stop thinking of Loki.  You never even knew him, love.  You brought that beautiful little raven haired baby home one day, and you were so full of pity, full of hope for him, but dearest … you just … you just … gave up on him …” she trailed off, rubbing her eyes furiously.  

Dreadful tears.  Would they never stop stinging her eyes?  Did they enjoy her pain?  So many memories could overwhelm her at any given moment, but more often than not, it was her last moment with Loki, and it was the one flooding her senses now.  

She could smell the leather of his armor, hear his panicked breaths, and worst of all she could see his expression, so wrought with fear as clear as day in her mind.  Yes, he had been concerned for Frigga’s well being, having materialized in Odin’s bedchamber, the very room she was seated in now.  He’d abandoned the battle outside the palace, and Frigga had been overwhelmed to think he’d come to save his parents.  What a wonderful son!  Why, look how much he truly loved them despite his claims they were not his parents!  Her heart had been so full in that moment.  

But then black mist had covered the white hot flames burning Laufey’s body, and the truth of Loki’s sudden appearance had come crashing over Frigga like a cruel wave.  It was Sigyn he’d come for.  Frigga had seen it in his eyes.  Tears had soaked his cheeks, his jaw had dropped, he’d tossed aside Gungnir carelessly, and one name had been on his lips: Sig.  

Nothing else had mattered to him in that moment.  Not his parents.  Not the throne.  Not the frost giants.  Not Asgard.  All he had seen was Sigyn.  Frigga loved Sigyn like a daughter (she still did!), but the the pain of seeing Loki, of clinging to him when he’d arrived, only to have him run to Sigyn had crippled her.  

“Stay with Father,” he’d said, cradling his lover in his arms despite his many injuries.  

And then he’d left her.  That had been Frigga’s last vision of him.  No goodbyes.  No last ‘I love you’.  Just gone.  A flurry of green and gold and blood rushing to the healing rooms with the one thing in the universe that mattered more than anything else.  Perhaps his deep love for Sigyn was the exact reason why Frigga wanted to see her would-have-been daughter in law as often as she could.   Wonderful Sigyn had bound herself to Loki in a way no one else had even attempted to, and she was a living breathing piece of him in many ways.  

She berated herself silently (You have TWO sons, Frigga!) and stood to her feet, determined not to let the grief win at this moment.  She didn’t know how she would handle the next moment, but this one she would conquer.

Two sons.  One dead.  One alive.  Focus on the one who is alive.  Thor.  Good, loving, golden Thor.

If only he would just come to her in his grief rather than letting it swallow him whole, then Frigga wouldn’t feel the need to chase after Sigyn.  Thor was all she had left until Odin awoke, and she had no idea why he hadn’t awakened yet.  It had never taken this long before.  Sigyn was like a daughter, but Thor was her true son, and Frigga wanted to see him overcome his despair more than anything.

My dear boy, our people will forgive you in time!  Look how they forgave your brother!

Yes, their forgiveness had been too little too late for Loki, but that would not be the case with Thor.  She knew it wouldn’t be.  Thor was capable of ruling.  He was a warrior.  He was a leader.  In time, they would see that.  Once the bifrost had been repaired, and he took back his kingly duties they would see that.  He wasn’t the arrogant prince he’d once been.  He’d been humbled more than enough to shatter that part of him.  Thor could do this, and by Hel he could do it well.  

She also had faith that Eir, with Fiora’s help, would finally heal Heimdall.  Everything would be as it was.  Odin would awaken, and he either would or wouldn’t resume his position as king.  If he did, he would continue to prepare Thor to one day take the throne.  If not, Thor would remain king, and he would have guidance from the Allfather himself.  Yes, in time all would be made right as right as rain.

Leaving Odin’s bedchamber, Frigga finger combed her hair and rubbed her thumbs under her eyes.  That had been quite enough grief for the day.  She needed to see Thor, but she knew he was with Sif, and she certainly did not want to interrupt them.  

Straightening her gown, she grabbed a heavy blue sash and wrapping it around her shoulders since the halls of the palace felt too cold when she was this exhausted, Frigga left quietly to find Sigyn.  Walking the long hall to Loki’s old chambers, she nodded to the guards that bowed from their posts.  The tall dark doors that had shimmered bright green in the cracks when Loki had wished to be alone now pulsed with black smoke.  Frigga rolled her eyes.  Well wasn’t that just brilliant.  Apparently Sigyn was in no mood to speak either, but she knocked softly nonetheless and waited a few moments.  

Sighing when no one answered (it was odd for Sigyn, little night owl that she was, to be asleep at this hour), she looked around to make sure no one was watching and whispered an unlocking spell.  Faint gold light engulfed the black smoke, and Frigga gingerly pushed the doors open, a frown creasing her brow.  The large bed was unmade as was typical, its black sheets wrinkled and haphazard.  One of Loki’s jackets was rumpled in the middle, evidence of Sigyn holding the material tightly, most definitely every night.  Frigga could see, even from the door, that the leather was wet with tears.  She clutched her chest at the sight.

My poor dearest girl.

Sigyn had reprimanded the servants who she had caught cleaning Loki’s chambers a few days after the bridge had broken, protesting angrily and loudly enough that Frigga had heard her cries all the way from the throne room.  The girl had not wanted any of his things moved.  Nothing was to be touched even.  She most certainly hadn’t allowed the bed linens to be washed.  Even after three months, the same sheets remained.  They would have been positively filthy if Asgardians or Vanir or Jotuns (Frigga hung her head at the thought) shed skin and hair and had body odor like humans.  

Walking to his desk, his open journals and books scattered across its surface, Frigga brushed her fingers across the pages, admiring his elegant handwriting and meticulous drawings.  The entire room smelled of Loki, his ghost haunting every wall, every corner, every surface.  The air itself was Loki.  Thin tendrils of smoke rising from the wicks of the candles next to the books caught her attention.  She frowned.  Sigyn must have left not long ago.  Frigga peered more closely at the pages.  What had lovely Sigyn been reading?  

“The Unknown Gateway to Midgard,” she read aloud in a hushed whisper. “What in the nine-”

Mouth snapping shut, she nearly jumped out of her skin as a huge crash of thunder echoed in the dark chambers (BOOM!).  She grasped the back of the desk chair, breathing hard.  Glaring at the still bright clouds, the lightning having left them gleaming in its wake, she forgot the book entirely, her thoughts once more wandering to Thor.  She hurried to the balcony, ignoring the rain soaking her through.  

At this hour Thor wouldn’t be on the bridge since the work day was long since finished.  Looking across to his balcony, she squinted.  No light shone from his chambers.  Typically it didn’t thunder like this when he was asleep, so he must have been awake.  But usually at this hour, if he was awake, he would be with Sif.  The storm should have lightened up a bit then, should it not? 

Shaking her head, she shrugged it off as nothing more than Thor having a moment of overwhelming grief, and rubbing her shoulders, she left the balcony to search Loki’s washroom and dressing room.  Still no sign of Sigyn.  Where had she run off to?  Had she gone to see Thor?  Were they having a confrontation?  That would explain the sudden thunder, wouldn’t it?  But Sigyn had hardly spoken to Thor for three months.  Why now, after all this time would she?  No, surely she’d gone somewhere else.  What places did she frequent?  Hurrying from the chambers, Frigga made her way to the library.  She didn’t bother keeping her voice quiet when she called for her.

“Sigyn?  Are you in here, dearest?” 

One could have heard a pin drop for the silence.  Walking down the aisles, checking between bookcase after bookcase, she frowned.  Even the rafters, including Loki’s rafter, were empty.  Frustrated, Frigga ran a hand through her hair.  The library had been her best bet.  It was unlikely that Sigyn was snatching a late night snack from the kitchens considering she barely ate anything these days, and the raging storm would probably keep her inside the palace, so that ruled out the gardens and the training arena.   Surely she wouldn’t have gone for a ride.  Sigyn adored Sinir, and she often went riding despite the rain, but Frigga had never seen her ride in storms of this severity.  Perhaps Sigyn had gone to visit Loki’s beloved horse in the stables.

Squaring her shoulders, Frigga started in that direction, but she stopped as she passed the healing rooms.  Head cocked, she pursed her lips.  Sigyn had visited Heimdall every day for three months.  The gatekeeper had become a good friend of Sigyn’s since Loki had died.  Oh Loki.  Her beloved beautiful baby boy.  His smile flashed across her vision.  

I couldn’t miss him more if I tried—Lower lip trembling, Frigga coughed to mask the cry that escaped her throat.  She clamped her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to hold back the flow of tears.  Hitching forward, she held her stomach.  She hated the memories.  She didn’t want to lose them, but dear gods she hated them.  Maybe one day she would love them, but this was not that day.  Her own words, spoken to her boy ages ago, echoed in her mind.

“The green matches your eyes.”

Smirk playing at the corners of his mouth (oh how she missed seeing that smirk every day!) Loki raised an eyebrow as Frigga fastened a green cape at his shoulders and smiled warmly.

“What, no symbolic meaning for me?  It just ‘matches my eyes’?  Honestly, if it wasn’t from you, Mother, I’d be a bit insulted.”

“Green is the color of life, my dear god of mischief.  My little prankster.  And do not pretend that it isn’t your favorite color.”

“I never said it wasn’t-”

“As I said, green is for life, and I want your life to be so beautiful, Loki.  I want you to know love.  I want you to be happy….”

So lost was she in the memory that Frigga didn’t hear the concerned healer who had appeared in the hall speaking to her.

“Your majesty?”

Blinking rapidly, Frigga returned to the present and said, “I’ll be fine.  I’ll be fine.” Stomach twisting painfully, her words were strained as she waved the young woman off.  

Oh no—She was going to be sick.  Hurrying past the woman, Frigga ran straight to the communal lavatory within the healing wing and threw open the door, barely making it to the toilet.  Emptying what little food had been in her stomach, she flushed the remnants away and grabbed a towel to clean herself up.  She’d been physically sick more in the past three months than she had been in her entire life, and that said a lot considering she’d lost count of her age over the centuries.  

It was all just too much, even for the queen of Asgard.  Grieving for Loki.  Odin still asleep.  Thor seemingly lost.  Heimdall blind.  The bifrost still broken.  Her life was falling apart.  Her earlier positivity was dwindling, as it always did lately.  She scowled at her own weakness, willing herself to be strong.

You will get through this.  You will learn to say goodbye, and you will move on.  Now focus.  Find Sigyn.

Exiting the lavatory, she went to Eir’s quarters and knocked softly on the door, a moment passing before it swung open.

“Your grace?” Eir stood on the other side, pushing her sleep tousled hair behind her ears.

Unconcerned with propriety (the usual ‘good evening’ and ‘forgive my intrusion’ felt like absolute nonsense at the moment) Frigga said, “Have you seen the Lady Sigyn?  Has she come to visit Heimdall today?  Or the Lady Jane, perhaps?”

Eir suppressed a yawn, and pulling her robe more tightly around her, she shook her head. “Last I saw Lady Sigyn, she was leaving the mortal’s room a month ago.  She did not check in today as far as I know.  I think Heimdall has missed her visits greatly.”

Frigga nodded once and turned on her heel quickly and spoke over her shoulder. “Thank you, Eir.  Sorry to have disturbed you at such a late hour.”

“Not at all, my queen.”

Eir’s voice was nearly lost as Frigga hurried down the hall to Jane’s room.  It was positively rude to rouse anyone at this hour, but it was suspicious that the last person to have seen her was the tiny human.  After two months of checking the healing rooms every day, Sigyn saw Jane and then just abandoned her visits with Heimdall?  What in the nine had the mortal said to her?  Frigga rapped on the door, and upon receiving no answer, she peeked inside.

“Lady Jane?” She pushed the door open and walked in, eyes wide at the scene before her.  It was empty, entirely empty with not a scrap of evidence that Jane had ever been there.  No books, no clothes, no odd little Midgardian electronic gadgets, nothing. “What in the name of Odin?”  

Panic swelled in her core.  Where could the girl have gone?!  Had someone taken her?!  And if so, where to?!  The only place Jane would want to go was home, and the bifrost was nowhere near complete.  Then what had happened to her?  Had a servant with a vengeful motive against Thor kidnapped his once lady love?  The open page of Loki’s journal flashed across her vision then.

The Unknown Gateway to Midgard.

Jaw set, she rushed back to the south wing of the royal corridor, straight to Loki’s chambers and opened the doors, none too gently, with a carefully aimed burst of magic.  Making a beeline for his desk, Frigga looked more closely at the papers.  Eyes wide, she gaped at the words that followed.

“….it had been right under my nose all this time, quite literally, since Thor and I swim in the lake every day of every summer….”

“By Hel Loki, what did you do?! ” Frigga whispered heatedly to the empty room.  

Never had she considered the existence of portals to the other realms before the Jotuns had barreled through the forest three months ago.  Well, clearly her son had, and he’d kept quiet about them.  Had he ever used them?  Rolling her eyes, she picked up the journal and flipped to the next page.  What an absurd question.  Of course he’d used them.  She would have used them, too.  How exciting must it have been to travel between the realms in secret?  Staring at the pages, her jaw dropped further.  

He’d discovered portals to Vanaheim, Muspelheim (dear gods, how awful!), Alfheim, even the portal to Jotunheim.  Her stomach flipped at the thought of him using that one.  No doubt he had traveled to all the realms hidden under a cloaking spell.  Loki was the greatest sorcerer in all of Asgard, probably the nine, and such a spell would have been positively elementary for him.  Even Heimdall wouldn’t have known.

Not wishing to consider the devious things Loki might have done with that Jotunheim portal, she stopped the wheels in her head from spinning out of control and closed the book.  Had Sigyn known of the other portals all along?  Or had she simply read his journals?  Not that it mattered how she knew.  The point was, Sigyn knew, and was no doubt on her way to Silver Lake right now, Jane in tow.

How Sigyn would get Jane to the bottom of the lake, Frigga had no clue, but one thing was for sure.  Sigyn was taking Jane back to Midgard.  Right now, actually, if the still smoking candles were any indication.  Quickly and quietly, Frigga ran to her chambers, grabbed a cloak and hurried to the royal boathouses.  Stepping into her boat, she shot a look to the guards who had hurried to aid her.

“Tell no one that I’ve left,” she warned.  They merely nodded and stepped back, returning to their original posts as she powered up the boat and took off at full speed, the water shooting up behind her.

---

~Thor’s Chambers, Royal Corridor, North Wing of the Palace~

Standing on his balcony clad in only his thin navy sleeping pants tied low on his hips despite the cold and rain, Thor ran a hand through his long damp blond locks and took a sip from the steaming mug of hot cider in his hand.  Ever since his time in Midgard, he’d taken to liking hot drinks.  The coffee there had been absolutely delicious.  He’d never had anything like it before.  Sighing, he idly wished he’d had the forethought to bring back some of those coffee beans in Jane’s trailer.  Though how could he have known he would gain his powers back so suddenly thanks to ‘dying’ for a human and be swept up to Asgard?  He rubbed a hand down his face.

Ah Jane—Truly, he felt terrible for her, for the way he’d treated her.  After all, he was the reason she was stuck here, so he should probably give her more attention.  It wasn’t her fault that he’d broken the bridge.  It wasn’t her fault that Loki had died, that Gylfi’s entire damnregiment had died.  And yet, it was.  In a twisted way, it was Jane’s fault.  He didn’t want to talk to her, but he did.  Barely.  He would inform her of the progress on the bifrost.  This very morning he had, and she’d been oddly optimistic about it.  Her smile had shone brighter than he’d seen it since their time on Earth.  

Confused by the memory of her strange disposition, Thor pinched the bridge of his nose.  Usually, she was so sullen (understandably) during his visits.  Maybe she was going mad here, too.  Regardless, the bifrost was the only thing standing between Jane and her home, so she deserved to know that they were halfway done now.  

Gripping his mug harder, he fisted his other hand.  She should be grateful for his tireless efforts, should she not?  The sooner that bridge was finished, the sooner she could go back.  He knew in his heart that he was justifying that which could not be justified, but what else could he do?  He’d fallen in love with the girl, and then he’d just as quickly fallen out of love, if that was such a thing.  Perhaps it had been because he had returned to his true form, his immortal form.  Jane was important, yes, and in his own way, he cared for her, but he no longer loved her.  And he wanted her to go home.  The sooner, the better.  It would be one less thing for him to feel terrible about.  Plus, a repaired bifrost meant everyone could go home.  All the foreigners who had been complaining incessantly to his poor mother could finally go home.

Swallowing the last of the drink, he looked across the wet city.  Try as he might, he couldn’t stop these fucking storms.  His people thought he was doing it of his own volition, didn’t they.  No doubt they assumed he was either vindictive or petulant.  Ha. 

If they only knew how thrilled he would be to see Loki again and hand Gungnir back to his little brother.  Then again, without Gungnir, Thor would be weaponless.  Scowling, he looked over his shoulder and eyed the hammer lying on the floor next to the fireplace.  He’d not used it since the day he’d been crowned king.  Hopefully, everyone assumed he had simply forgone using it because he now had Gungnir.  His gaze then wandered from the hammer to his raven haired lover lying in his bed.  

Dearest Sif—He smiled weakly at her sleeping form.  She knew the truth.  She’d seen him try desperately to pick up Mjölnir.  Every day he tried. Every. Damn. Day.   

He’d been unable to do it since he’d broken the bridge.  Talk about demoralizing.  Any chance he’d had of earning his place on the throne had flown out the window that day, hadn’t it.  Maybe a better man would have seen it as motivation, but then again, a better man would have done a great many things differently than he had.  He’d thought he was that better man.  Apparently not.  He’d regained his powers only to have the hammer lost once more.  How could he be worthy again?  Did he have to die again?  If so, would he be brought back from the dead?  Looking away from the wretched useless weapon, he turned back to the balcony and clutched the railing, his head hanging as he shivered.

“Loki,” he mumbled his brother’s name and sniffed.  

“Thor?” Sif’s voice startled him, and he dropped his cup, the ceramic shattering loudly on the stone beneath them as her arms encircled his bare torso from behind.

“It’s freezing out here,” she whispered. “You should have put on a shirt if you’d planned to brood in the open air.”

Thor snorted and turned in her arms, his hands moving up to grasp the back of her head and twist in the soft black tendrils. “You always assume that I am brooding.”

Eyeing the lightning crackling across the clouds, Sif raised an eyebrow. “I know you are brooding, Thor.  You do little else.”

Conceding, he nodded and leaned down, planting a kiss on her cheek.  Her dark blue eyes narrowed slightly, and grabbing his face, she pressed her lips firmly to his.

“You missed,” she whispered against his teeth when he smiled, laughing as he kissed down her neck, his beard tickling her skin.

“I did not miss.  Make no mistake.  I know what I am doing, woman,” he chuckled and hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his hips.  This was what he needed.  Everything else could wait.  The bridge, the throne, the hammer, the storms, his still sleeping father, his grief—it could all wait.  All he needed in this moment was Sif.  One arm around her waist, his other hand gripping her thigh, Thor carried her to the bed.  He wanted nothing more than to please her.  She’d been so patient, so kind, so forgiving of his faults.  

“Tell me what you want,” he said, setting her down on the soft sheets as he pulled her thin silver sleeping tunic over her head.  

“You.  Just you,” she said.

Aqua eyes crinkling, Thor smiled as she pushed the pants off him. “So…. same as always?”

She laughed out loud. “Does my request bore you?” Her laugh caught in her throat when he slid between her legs.

Eyes closing at the sensation,he dropped his face into the crook of her neck and groaned. “You will,” he swallowed thickly, “never bore me, Sif.”

I love you—he almost said it, but he caught himself.  No more falling in love, or at least, no more proclamations of love until he was absolutely certain that it was true.  He loved Sif for certain, but he loved many people.  Being in love was another thing entirely.  Is this what Loki had had with Sigyn?  Oh gods, if it was even a shadow of what his brother had experienced with the Vanir, then Thor would never be able to apologize to Sigyn enough for ripping Loki from her.  Pushing aside the sad thoughts threatening to overwhelm him since the thunder outside had reached terrifying new heights, he focused on the feel of Sif’s mouth on his jaw.  He felt his end nearing, and his pace quickened.  Oh no. 

Sif knew he couldn’t hold out much longer, and that was fine—she honestly hadn’t been trying to sate her own needs.  She just wanted to make these godsdamn storms stop.  She’d been trying to for near three months with no success.  It was miserable out there, and it was beyond maddening.  Maybe she should fake it… No.  She was in no mood to pretend that he’d blown her mind during this little session when she was pissed at him for that incessant deluge outside.

His jaw went slack embarrassingly soon, andhe shuddered against her, his eyes rolling back.  Fuck, he hated when he finished first.  Human men did that, not gods.  So much for pleasing her.  She hadn’t even been close, had she.  No, she hadn’t—the sigh escaping her lips had been one of annoyance, not pleasure.  Brow furrowing, suddenly exhausted, he collapsed on her.

”Oooof!” she grunted.  Stars above, she couldn’t breathe, and she needed to relieve herself.  Now.

Giving her an apologetic look, he pushed up onto his elbows (it was clear she needed the lavatory), and he rolled off her.  She dashed to his washroom and returned a moment later, a robe wrapped around her.  Damn storms were still raging.  Of course they were.  She found him once more on the balcony, his pants secured tightly across his hips again.

“Thor?”  

He was squinting into the distance. “What is this?  Tell me I’m not seeing things.”

He pointed to the water.  Flying across the water at top speed, long golden hair whipped behind a woman flying one of the royal boats, a regal blue cloak draped across her shoulders.  

Sif shook her head. “No, you are not seeing things.  Is that-”

“Mother?” Thor whispered, cutting herboff.

What the Hel was his mother doing taking a boat out at this hour?  In a storm that he couldn’t end no less?  He returned to the room and pulled his tunic over his head, then wrapped his cloak around his shoulders.  Strong and powerful as she was, Frigga still had no business riding the waves during the dark hours.  Or did she?  There was always a purpose to his mother’s actions, and he wanted to know what that purpose was.  She knew something, and he needed to know it, too.  He opened the doors and turned back quickly to face Sif who was already on the bed, giving him a dreary look and pulling the covers up.

“I shall return shortly,” he said.  He didn’t wait for a response and simply left in the direction of the boathouses.

FEARLESS CONTINUES IN CHAPTER FOUR: WILD MAGIC (IT’S ALL WE HAVE)

Visit the Trilogy main page HERE.

Chapter links: ¹ You’ll Have Answers Later ² Talk Some Sense to Me, Sig. ³ Interlude in Asgard (Endless Grief) ⁴ Wild Magic (It’s All We Have) ⁵ Heat is My Specialty (What is Blue For) ⁶ Storms Pass, Loki. ⁷ Trust Me, I’ve Got This. ⁸ A Heavy Gift ⁹ Sick and Tired ¹⁰ Hold On, We’re Going Home (Green Is for Life Part 2) ¹¹ Home is Chaos ¹² Looks That Kill ¹³ Living Ghosts ¹⁴ No Rules (Tick Tock) ¹⁵ The Calm ¹⁶ The Storm

Chapter 17 Coming October 2021

CHAPTER THREE THEME SONG:

“The Idealist” by Mr Fijiwiji

What Readers Have Said

About CH 3 “Interlude in Asgard (Endless Grief)”

“Oh, I’m so happy you’re back. I love this story. My heart just breaks for Frigga. Hopefully she will have a reason to be happy again soon.”

-Ferbette, on CH 3 “Interlude in Asgard”, 01 Feb 2018 (AO3)

---

Please feel free to leave a comment below. Reviews are (almost always *wink*) a source of excitement and humble joy for Jen!