Unknownfate
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Chapter 193
🕑 Added 2025-08-06 08:41:48 +0000 UTCThe skies above Asgard were clear, a deep gold brushed with violet as the sun dipped past the edges of the realm. It was peaceful, beautiful… and wrong.
Lady Sif stood upon a high balcony of the training spire, her arms crossed over her chest, gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of the Bifrost gate. There had been no thunder. No wild energy. No reckless laughter echoing from the feast halls. Thor had not returned.
“Still looking for him?” came the familiar voice of Fandral behind her, light as ever despite the weight they all felt.
Sif didn’t turn. “Someone should.”
“You’re not the only one who misses him,” Hogun said from nearby, his voice quiet but firm.
Volstagg snorted. “The palace feels half-dead without his appetite alone.”
“And yet,” Sif muttered, “we are forbidden to speak of him. Forbidden to act. Forbidden to even ask Heimdall.”
There was a beat of silence between them. The golden halls of Asgard below glimmered like treasure, but none of them felt rich for it.
“Heimdall’s loyalty is torn,” Hogun said at last. “He’s made that clear.”
“He fears offending Camelot,” Fandral added, “not to mention Loki has never been as popular as he is now, many wouldn’t think to cross him.”
Sif finally turned to face them, her expression hard. “So we sit idle? While Loki parades about as savior of Asgard?”
None of them spoke. Because that was the heart of it. The crown prince had been cast out, banished for reckless war-mongering. Then came the Frost Giant's infiltration, something that still had plenty of unexplained mysteries surroundings it.
But the facts spoke for themselves.
Loki was a hero, he had personally saved Odin from the evil knife of Laufey’s assassination attempt, having killed the king of Jotunheim himself.
Everyone was furious, Odin had only just defended Jotunheim from war by banishing Thor, and yet the Jötunn dared to launch such an attack? It was an honorless slight none could accept.
So, Loki in his role as prince and Lord Regent had declared war, declared that Jotunheim had to answer for their crime, and the people rallied behind him, and the same course that had once seen Thor banished.
Yet, despite declaring war, not a single battle had been fought; instead, Loki had declared that he would unite the remaining realms together and launch a united assault against Jotunheim, so as to show everyone the unity of the realms and show them the might of Asgard so that no other realm might attempt something similar.
“What can we do? He saved the All-Father, that is a fact, he killed Laufey something even Thor couldn’t do, by all right, Loki is a hero.” Volstagg said, though the words felt foul in his mouth.
“We all know there is something rotten about the whole affair, first the Jötunn enter the vault, and then the All-Father’s quarters? It stinks like one of Loki’s plots.” Sif argued.
“We all feel the same, but what can we do? We can’t prove anything, and accusing Loki right now would be a disaster, it might see us punished, and I would rather not give him an excuse to punish us.” Hogun said.
Volstagg grunted in agreement. “He may smile and speak sweetly in court, but that’s the same silver tongue he’s always used. Now it’s gilded in praise.”
“He walks like a prince now,” Fandral muttered. “Talks like a king. But he’s never stopped watching everyone, like a trickster looking for his next move.”
“We could speak to Frigga,” Sif said again, but without conviction. “She’s the only one who might listen.”
“She’s the only one he listens to,” Hogun added. “Or fears.”
The others nodded slowly.
Sif clenched her fists. “We’re warriors. We’ve stood on the front lines of every campaign. And now we’re told to stand down. Told to trust a man who lies like he breathes.”
“Because he won,” Fandral said simply. “Whatever he did, however he did it… he won.”
The silence returned, heavy and bitter. Below them, the palace bustled with artificial calm — courtiers shuffling along marbled halls, envoys from Vanaheim and Alfheim whispering alliances, and Loki’s handpicked guards patrolling with precise, quiet discipline.
“Then we must just speak with the Queen, she is our only hope… Unless Heimdall has changed his mind since last we spoke with him.” Hogun said at last.
Sif nodded, her expression softening just slightly. “Frigga has always known his nature. She may choose to ignore it for the good of the realm, but I don’t believe she is blind.”
“She’s also the only one who truly understands how far he might go,” Volstagg added. “She raised him, after all.”
“And Heimdall?” Fandral asked. “Do we dare press him again?”
“He will not act against orders,” Hogun said. “But he sees all. If there is a crack in Loki’s story, he has seen it.”
“Then we speak with them both,” Sif decided. “Frigga first, if she permits it, we might gain permission to visit Thor, if not… then Heimdall, to see if he might be willing to step aside.”
They exchanged glances — silent, grim agreement passing between them. Warriors left without a war, comrades without their prince, all tethered in place by politics and uncertainty. But they had not forgotten the old ways, the old oaths.
Sif turned away from the Bifrost, her cape stirring in the wind. “One way or another, we will learn the truth.”
“And if it’s the truth we fear?” Fandral asked softly.
“Then we prepare,” she said, steel in her voice. “Before the trickster makes his final move.”
The four of them all gathered their courage to once more seek out the Queen, and hopefully, find the answers they wished, or better yet, were allowed to bring Thor back home.
Security around the All-Father’s chambers was far tighter since the attack, and even these elite warriors and friends of Thor had to work hard to be allowed to speak with the Queen.
Time, effort, and questions, as well as a lot of personal favors to avoid having to get Loki’s permission, were needed before they finally got the chance.
Even inside the room, they weren’t alone. Once the Queen would watch over the All-Father on her own, but now, Loki had ordered the elite guards to watch over him at all times, to ensure no further dangers befell their King.
As they entered the chamber, their eyes were drawn to the object at the centre of the room.
There, bathed in a soft golden glow, lay Odin, the All-Father himself, sleeping the Odinsleep.
Frigga stood at his side, serene and radiant in her deep blue robes, one hand resting lightly upon his brow. Her expression was calm, but the weariness in her eyes betrayed how long she had stood vigil.
The clinking of armor behind her broke the silence, but she didn’t turn.
“You’ve come with heavy hearts,” she said softly.
Sif stepped forward and knelt, the others following her lead. “My Queen.”
Frigga turned to them at last, her features regal, but kind. “Rise, all of you. You need not kneel. I know why you’re here.”
They rose slowly. Sif looked directly at her. “We mean no disrespect. But things are not as they should be. Thor—”
“—is doing well,” Frigga said gently. “And growing.”
That gave them all pause.
“You know how he is doing?” Volstagg asked.
Frigga gave a small smile. “Of course. I’m his mother.”
Sif swallowed. “Why do we not bring him home?”
“Because exile was not meant to punish him,” she said. “It was meant to teach him. And from what I sense… it is.”
“But, with respect,” Hogun said carefully, “Loki sits on the throne. He has declared war. He commands the court.”
“And you fear he plots something,” Frigga finished for him. “I know my son’s heart.”
“Then you must know what we have to do,” Sif said. “That he’s twisted something. Lied. His hand his in the shadow of this war of his.”
Frigga turned back to Odin, brushing a strand of hair from his brow.
“I have raised both my sons with love,” she said. “But I did not raise them the same. Thor needed humility. Loki… needed validation. He has it now. And just as Thor grows, as does Loki.”
“He grows into a tyrant,” Sif said.
Frigga sighed. “My son, in his young foolishness did hurt you, I know this, but please, Loki loves Asgard, maybe even more than Thor does, so don’t dismiss him so easily.”
“He may love Asgard,” Hogun said cautiously, “but he loves control more.”
Frigga turned to them again. “You do not trust him. That much is clear.”
“We trust our instincts,” Sif replied. “And every one of them screams that something is wrong.”
Frigga did not rebuke them. Her gaze lingered on each of them in turn — brave warriors, loyal to the throne, but more loyal still to their friend.
“Then what would you ask of me?” she asked softly.
“Let us see Thor,” Fandral said. “Let us speak with him. Even once. If you believe he is growing, let us see it with our own eyes.”
Frigga considered the request for a long moment. Then shook her head.
I told you before that you only need Loki’s permission to go. Loki sits on the throne and has done well, so I will not give you permission.
Sif’s fists clenched at her sides. “But he will not, he denies our requests, he doesn’t wish for us to see Thor, even Heimdall doesn’t move.”
“He obeys his king's order, there is nothing wrong with that,” Frigga said. “Loki might not be the true king, but he is the ruler while he sleeps, and Loki has done well enough; he might not be a warrior, but he is an excellent diplomat.”
Sif’s jaw tightened. “And yet he hides from his brother’s friends. From the ones who know him best.”
“That may say more about your doubts than his actions,” Frigga replied gently. “He knows you do not trust him. That weighs on him more than you think.”
“It should weigh on him,” Hogun said grimly. “Because we don’t trust him. He spins webs of words, he can’t be trusted!”
Frigga’s voice remained calm, though her posture grew more regal, more commanding. “And what would you prefer? That he take up Mjölnir and storm into another war? Asgard has enough warriors. Perhaps it is time we learned the value of kings who think.”
“No one doubts his mind,” Volstagg muttered, “only what he uses it for.”
“He's ruled well,” Frigga said, lifting her chin. “There is peace in the court. The realms respect him. Despite the war against Jotunheim, all of the realms still know peace, more united than they have been for years.”
“And yet we all walk with shadows at our backs,” Fandral said. “No one dares speak plainly. That is not peace. That is fear.”
A heavy silence followed.
Frigga looked down at Odin once more, brushing her fingers against his temple with a mother’s gentleness.
“You speak with the fire of youth,” she said at last. “But I have lived long enough to know this — sometimes, power does not corrupt. Sometimes, it reveals. You say Loki has changed, but perhaps… he is only becoming who he was always meant to be.”
Sif stepped forward once more. “Then we must know for certain. For Thor’s sake. For Asgard’s.”
Frigga looked up at her. “In your heart, you have already decided that Loki is a villain, yet, he is not. Yet he lies, he plays tricks, but at heart, he loves Asgard, and despite his desire to play around, he has been working hard. If only he worked as hard at bringing a girl home.”
She paused and looked deeper at Sif. “Thor, too, could learn a thing or two about seeing what is right before him.”
Sif took a step back, feeling exposed. “That isn’t what we are here to discuss.”
“No, no one ever just wants to talk about love with me… I hope the one Loki brings here will be more willing.”
Silence lingered after Frigga’s words, but it was no longer the silence of doubt — it was something deeper. Unease. Embarrassment. Perhaps even guilt.
Fandral cleared his throat. “We meant no disrespect, my Queen.”
“I know,” Frigga said, her voice soft again. “You love your friend. And you love your realm. But love… is not always a clear light. Sometimes it blinds.”
The warriors bowed again, more solemnly this time, and began to turn to leave.
But as they reached the gilded doors, Frigga called out one last time.
“Tell Heimdall… he may speak with you. If he wishes.”
Sif froze mid-step, then nodded, understanding the weight of that permission.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
The doors opened with a low creak of golden hinges.
They stepped out.
And behind them, deep in the shadowed corner of the chamber, a figure remained.
Not hidden by spell or glamor — simply overlooked.
Loki stepped forward, expression unreadable. He had heard every word.
He stood by Odin’s side now, his fingers brushing the edge of the sleeping king’s shroud.
His green eyes flicked toward his mother.
“I suppose it’s fortunate,” he said softly, “that I’ve grown used to being spoken of as if I’m not in the room.”
Frigga didn’t turn.
She only whispered, “And yet you stayed.”
A pause.
Then Loki smiled.
“Of course I did.”
