Trials

Chapter Twenty: Happy Birthday

"Loki Odinson."

Kneeling before the throne, fist over his heart, Loki fought to hold back his smile. This was a solemn occasion, and he was determined to treat it as such.

"For the last ten years, you have trained diligently, with courage and determination, in the way of your ancestors and of every citizen of Asgard. You have completed your studies and examinations, and devoted yourself to preparing for the final task required of you, the Trials. You have acquitted yourself well, and been granted entry into the noble ranks of Asgard's warriors."

Thinking about it still made his insides quiver, and it was all the easier for his thoughts to drift because these words were familiar; Father had said the exact same ones to Thor. That was a little disappointing – he'd hoped for something more specifically about him – but he supposed it was better than hearing "It was such a relief that you finally passed, after that humiliation the first time."

"Today, the day we celebrate your birth…"

Here Loki snapped back to full attention. Ten months earlier, Father had told Thor "Today, on your birthday." A tiny difference, but thus far his words had otherwise been identical to those he'd spoken to Thor. His father had probably forgotten to change the wording from when his Proclaiming had been scheduled for tomorrow, the day after his birthday.

"As many here today know, your Trials did not initially go as planned."

Loki's serene expression turned quickly to shock he tried to mask but couldn't; his breathing was speeding up and he couldn't believe his father was talking about this, and so soon after he'd been thinking he was relieved he wasn't referencing it even tangentially. The same thing as Thor, just say that same thing you said to Thor… He was saying it in front of everyone. Instead of the originally planned quiet ceremony before family and the Assembly, thousands of people were watching, as many as had been here for Thor's Proclaiming.

"You stood before Asgard's First Magistrate on your own, as a man, and conducted yourself before him in a way that reflects well on you, my Son. Your efforts, and those of the others involved, will improve every subsequent running of the Trials. You still have much growing to do, but you enter manhood in good stead."

Loki swallowed, head spinning. He thought his father had just complimented him, but as always, he wasn't entirely certain. In the meantime, though, King Odin Borson, All-Father of Asgard, was descending the steps from his throne. This was it.

Father spoke again once he reached the floor where Loki still knelt. "Loki Odinson, you have been declared a warrior, and in so doing, you have answered the highest calling of your people and reflected the spirit of Asgard. Today you come of age. With these things come both rights and responsibilities. As a prince, more of both rests on your shoulders, and you will be held to an even higher standard. As such, the oaths that I ask of you today are not to be made lightly.

"Do you swear loyalty to the throne of Asgard, and to the people of Asgard?"

"I swear," he answered immediately. He already knew the questions, of course; he'd heard them asked of Thor, and about a month ago he'd been called to Father's office to briefly discuss them. Compared to those he'd had to swear at his Trials, these oaths were simpler, more direct, and didn't make Loki want to laugh on the inside. They made his heart swell and his chest along with it.

"Do you swear to defend the throne of Asgard, and the people of Asgard, whether by word or by weapon?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to lead Asgard, courageously and selflessly, if called upon to do so?"

"I swear." He would be lying – and he would lie about it, if asked – if he said the thought of leading Asgard didn't send a little thrill tingling up and down his spine. The fact that it would first require the deaths of his father and older brother kept it at no more than that.

"Upon your oaths, I hereby proclaim you, Prince Loki Odinson, second in the line of succession to the throne of Asgard."

Loki held himself very still, with every bit of poise his mother would want him to show, while his father's hands came up. In them lay the helmet he had been thoroughly measured for, but never worn or even seen, except in images. It came down over his head, and with a bit of a squeeze that gave Loki a brief moment of panic that it wouldn't fit, it slid into place, perfectly shaped to mold to his head and face. The heavy weight of it, when Father's hands were gone, was perfectly manageable; his youthful fears had been unfounded.

Loki bowed his head, reveling in the pull of the helmet, then looked up at his father again and stood. The crowd broke into applause and cheers, and finally, finally, a smile appeared on his father's face. Loki let out the grin he'd been holding back, and at his father's gesture turned to stand beside him. Father's hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed; Loki could feel the pressure of it even through the multiple layers of leather. Mother, Thor, and Baldur stood off to the side of the throne, behind him, and came up to congratulate and embrace him, Baldur from their mother's arms. Not far away to his right, the entire Assembly stood together, clapping, official witnesses to the moment. To his left was the area designated for special guests, among them family and friends of the family. There, next to Jolgeir, stood Marthol Gunnfridottir. He peered over at her from under his helmet, then shifted his gaze forward again and basked in the adulation of the crowd. His people.

/

/

"Loki, I am so very proud of you." She'd found him out on his balcony, taking a quiet moment for himself before returning to the festivities.

"Thank you, Mother," he said, accepting her embrace. He still didn't feel like he'd really done anything to make anyone proud over the last several days, but there was no point arguing with her, and he was still basking in what it had felt like to have all those people cheering for him as he stood before Asgard's throne. He'd never felt anything like it. Only his experiences in the Trials – before it all fell apart - could even come close.

"Is it overwhelming for you, out there?"

"A little," Loki admitted with a flicker of a smile. He liked the attention – he loved the attention – but he was much more accustomed to it falling on Thor. He'd reached a point where he'd felt like a sponge soaking it all up, growing heavier and heavier, about to explode…if sponges exploded. But tomorrow his family would celebrate his birthday privately, and the day after that, Thor would again command all the attention. Loki knew he would have to accept that, not let himself be envious, or angry at Thor for simply being himself. Or, perhaps, now that he too was twenty, it would be more equally shared. It was an exciting possibility.

"You don't show it. Your composure has been impeccable. Although you did turn a few shades paler when your father brought up your Trials in his remarks."

Loki groaned. "Let's not talk about that. Please?" It bothered him. He'd been wondering about it off and on ever since. Had his father felt that he had no choice but to address it? Had he decided that Loki's actions reflected on him – and not in a positive way – and thus he had to present it in his own way, from the throne, to lessen the damage? As for what he'd actually said, it wasn't like he could sit up there and castigate Loki and then ask for those oaths and admit him to the line of succession. It was better not to think about it.

"I'm sure you've talked about all of that more than enough for a good long while," Mother allowed. "And that's not what I came to talk to you about." She smiled, and Loki thought she looked absolutely radiant in the deep green gown she'd worn. "Happy birthday, Loki."

Loki laughed. There was something so oddly simple about it, as though nothing of the last week had happened, as though he was not a prince and now second in line to be king, as though she was not a queen.

"I brought you something," she said, holding out the flat wooden box she'd arrived with. "You'll get the rest of your gifts tomorrow. But I thought I'd go ahead and give you this one today."

Loki took the box and looked up at his mother, who nodded at him to open it. The box itself was beautiful, with two black metal hinges on one side, and two black metal clasps on the other, nothing else marring the wood. He knew little about woodworking, but enough to recognize that this was high quality. Inside, slightly offset from each other, were two knives carved of the same richly-colored wood, the workmanship so detailed they almost looked – and felt, he realized when he picked one up – real. "They're beautiful, Mother, thank you."

"You're welcome, but that's not actually your gift. More of a placeholder. A guarantee. Few things in life are guaranteed, Loki, but these are a guarantee from a master knife crafter on Nidavellir named Digru, that he will personally craft for you two knives, customized to your hands and your preferences. He's very exclusive and he's not fast. He's also very isolated, and you'll have to go see him in person. He lives in a small village, just a few families, which is frequently inaccessible and always difficult to reach."

Loki's smile grew broader as his mother spoke.

"I thought it could be your first adventure on your own. Or with Thor, if you prefer."

"Of course with Thor," Loki said, replacing the wooden replica in the box and closing it so he could wrap his arms around his mother. "Thank you so much. This may be the best gift I've ever received. I love it, Mother. Thank you."

"I'm pleased you like it," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders to nudge him back. "But you know, sometimes you hide your feelings so well, and sometimes it's as though you're shouting them. I know which part of the gift you like most."

"I love it all," Loki insisted, and he meant it, though he understood what she was saying.

"But you have some mixed feelings about the knives?"

"No," he said reflexively, then decided he didn't need to lie. "It's just…I suppose I learned some things through all this, and I think…perhaps…I'm better off sticking with a sword."

Mother looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. "I understand, Loki. I do. But I hope one of the things you learned wasn't that you shouldn't be you. You have talents and abilities that are different from Tyr's, and Sorkvir's, and Thor's. Perhaps the Trials wasn't the best forum for you to display all of your creativity and uniqueness. But I would hate to see you cast that aside in order to conform in ways that are beyond what is necessary, and that diminish who you are, and what you can contribute to Asgard and to the Nine Realms."

"I don't want to…not be me," Loki said, still thinking it over. It was mostly true, he thought. Sometimes, though, he didn't want to be him. He wanted to be Thor. But he would never admit that to anyone, not even his mother, definitely not to Thor. "I just…." He turned and rested his hands on the rail of his balcony, gazing out over the city with unfocused eyes. "They questioned my honor. Knives are distance weapons," he continued, turning back to her, one hand still on the rail. "It's a precious gift, Mother, and I'll cherish them. Truly. But…please don't be offended if I don't use them right away."

"I'll never be offended with your honesty. I know it hurts, what happened, and I won't dwell on it further, but do allow me to say that you have now proven that you can succeed in battle with or without magic. I doubt any questions remain about your honor. But back to the knives. They're a gift. Not an obligation. I saw how good you were with your aim, and I thought this would help you develop your talent. You can use them now, or later, or never, as you wish. Get throwing knives, or have them made longer, into daggers. Those aren't distance weapons, not necessarily. It's your choice, and I won't be offended no matter what you choose. All right?"

"All right," Loki said, relieved.

"Besides…"

"Besides what?"

"You won't be able to use them right away regardless. I told you, Digru isn't fast. He may work and rework them for a year or more. And you won't be going to remote villages on Nidavellir or anywhere else for a while. I'm sorry about that. Your library duty came up after I'd placed the order with Digru."

"That's all right. Wait…when did you place the order?"

"The day after you started your Trials, after seeing what you could do with those wheels. Not the same skill, I know, but a similar kind of control of strength and accuracy. That's why I went to Digru and got the order on guarantee. I didn't know what was going to happen, and this way you can go for the knives whenever you wish."

"That's what I thought, that you must have just done it. But then how did you get to Digru's village and back so quickly? We had lunch that day. And dinner."

Mother laughed, that carefree and slightly mischievous laugh that he loved so much. "I used the bifrost, of course. That village is easily accessible by bifrost."

"Which I won't be allowed to use?" Loki asked, grinning.

"Certainly not. What would be the adventure in that? Loki…there's nothing wrong with being different, with not doing things the same way most people do. With being you. I wanted to encourage you in that. And I thought you might be in the mood for some time away, some time to yourself."

"And an adventure?"

"And an adventure."

/

/

"It's awful that you had to go through all that for it to happen, Loki, but I'm glad I'm going to have a set of rules for my Trials," Muli said. "What happened to you…it could happen to any of us. Not with magic, but…how are we supposed to know if something we do could get us into trouble, if they don't tell us? Your father was right. You made it better for all of us."

"Thanks," Loki said. It wasn't the first time he'd heard something like this, but it was the first time he'd heard it from a youth. "I'd rather I'd somehow figured it out beforehand, but at least something good came of it." And if his true feelings didn't quite match his words, the words did come more easily than they would have a couple of days ago. "And I can't wait for your Trials."

"You'll come?"

"Of course I'll come. Well…I have to work in one of the libraries for a while, and attend some official meetings as Father's representative, and I don't know if I'll be done by then. If not I might not be able to go to the whole thing. I promise I'll come for as much as I can, though."

"He'll be done by then," Thor said, joining Loki and Muli as they watched the fire breathers. "I'll make sure of it. Come on, Loki. See you later, Muli!" Thor called, already dragging Loki away.

"Hey, we were talking!"

"About boring things."

"He's my friend."

"He's still a child. We are going to go listen to Bragi reciting the Ice Saga."

Loki gave up on trying to dig his heels in; Thor wasn't letting up. "We've heard Bragi sing the Ice Saga a hundred times, Thor. Why did you drag me away from the fire breathers?"

"Because someone got the idea to turn it into a drinking game. Every time a Frost Giant gets killed, you have to drink. When an entire Jotun batallion is defeated, or flees Midgard in shame, you have to empty your tankard. And when Father defeats Laufey? Three tankards in a row, no stopping except to take a breath in between."

"Thooooor," Loki said as they came to a stop at a group of tables and chairs haphazardly placed around a central stool. All of the tables were full already, but space was quickly cleared for the two princes. "You know I don't like things like this the same way you do."

"That's because you've never done it! Come on, Loki, it'll be fun," Thor said, already sitting down. "Two tankards!" he called out to echoing cheers.

"Welcome, Loki!" one of Thor's friends said; Loki recognized him from the taverns but couldn't recall his name. "We are honored to have both the first and second in line to the throne among us, especially on Victory Day. One drink for Thor, and another for Loki!"

Tankards went up and came down twice. Loki figured he couldn't leave now.

And in the end, he was glad he didn't. More drinks were called in his honor, and once Bragi arrived and the mead really started flowing, Loki settled back and relaxed. By the end – effectively Laufey's defeat, although the poem continued on a bit beyond that – Loki's stomach felt uncomfortably overfull, but he wasn't ill, or feeling the need to either write embarrassingly bad poetry or pass out, barely able to breathe. He clapped and cheered with abandon when Bragi sang the last words. It was a beautiful night, and it had been an amazing day.

"Let's go find Drosbo," Thor shouted over the din that hadn't quite let up, boots crunching over shattered glass as he came around to the side of the table. "Didn't you say he was going to give us all free fruit sticks?"

"Mm-hm," Loki said, standing, then quickly placing a hand on the table, which had seemed to shimmer and shift in front of him.

Thor laughed and clapped a hand on his back, which really didn't make the weird sense of vertigo any better. "You have to work your way up to it, Brother. No more for you tonight."

"Fine with me," Loki said, finding that if he looked up instead of down, things didn't move so much.

They threaded their way through the crowds, borrowing Baldur from their mother along the way, and by the time they reached Drosbo Loki was already feeling much steadier.

"I was afraid you'd forgotten me, Prince Loki!"

"Never, Drosbo. I always have a good reason to return."

"And you brought your brothers, I see. Shall I guess everyone's flavor?"

Loki and his brothers didn't need to be given anything for free, of course, but it was an expression of kindness for a special occasion, accepted and appreciated as such. A few minutes later they entered the crowd again, strolling aimlessly down the main street, occupied by their fruit sticks.

"Loki, hold mine," came Baldur's voice from his side.

Loki obliged, and Baldur asked to climb up on his shoulders. Thor was grinning strangely but Loki didn't think to ask why; he obliged this, too. He promptly felt a yank on his head.

"Go, go!" Baldur called out.

Loki looked up – and then felt up when he couldn't quite see far enough – to find two small hands wrapped around the horns on his helmet.

"Come on, horsey, go!"

Thor was laughing, and Baldur started giggling.

"Was this your idea?" Loki asked.

"Of course not!" Thor said; Loki could tell he was lying. "You heard the man, horsey. Go!"

Loki rolled his eyes and obliged that, too; why not? He went slowly at first, uncertain how securely that helmet was fixed on his head, not having tested out little brothers yanking on it before. But when Baldur's grip didn't seem to budge it at all, he sped up, even doing his best to mimic the gallop of a horse. "Make way!" he called out any time they approached a knot of people forming an inadvertent roadblock.

Before long, though, it was Mother he was approaching, forming her very own personal – and entirely advertent – roadblock.

"What are you doing with my baby?"

"I'm not a baby," Baldur whined.

"You'll always be my baby, no matter how old you are. Ask your brothers. Now down you go."

More whining followed, but when Loki got to his knees Mother pulled Baldur up. She'd cried this morning, and he'd seen her wiping tears away after his Proclaiming, but since then as far as he knew her eyes had remained dry. Maybe Father was right, and it was just nostalgia as he approached his twentieth birthday. He was twenty now, so maybe she was past that, and if so, Loki was grateful. Maybe all her doting – and crying and "baby" – would fall on Baldur now. Not that he wanted it all to fall on Baldur, the doting part anyway.

"Hold on to him next time, Loki. And not after you've been drinking, please?"

"Sorry, Mother," he said, handing Baldur's half-eaten fruit stick back to him. He supposed he would have held on to Baldur if his hands hadn't been full already, but Baldur had been holding on to him pretty tightly, so maybe not.

Baldur was enticed away with an offer to visit one of the face-painters, and Thor appeared back at Loki's side.

"Not so long ago tonight, I felt like an adult. And then somehow I wound up running around pretending to be a horse and getting in trouble with Mother. Are you sure I turned twenty?"

Thor chuckled. "Some things don't change all that much."

"Well, I'm going to blame the mead."

"Whatever you say, Brother," Thor said with a laugh. "Oh, you know what?"

"What?"

"These are taller than I thought they'd be." Thor reached up and smacked the side of one of the horns, jostling Loki's head to the side because he hadn't been expecting it. "Some of those older taverns, you're going to have to duck when you go inside. You know what else?"

"What?" Loki said, shooting Thor a look of playful annoyance.

"Baldur insisted that you were a horse. I tried to explain to him that those are cows' horns."

"Cows' horns? At least I'm not wearing…chicken feathers," he said, the first thing that came to mind as he eyed Thor's helmet.

"These are not chicken feathers. They're wings, Loki. Wings like wind."

"Chicken wings, then. Wings are made of feathers, by the way. Chicken feathers," Loki said, then started making chicken squawks and clucks.

"Shut up, cow. People are staring."

"They're staring at you and your chicken feathers."

"They're staring at you because they've never seen a cow cluck like a chicken."

At that Loki suddenly broke into laughter, although just a few seconds ago he'd been starting to feel like punching Thor, except that they were in public and he would be lucky to archive library books for the next hundred years if he did something like that in public, on Victory Day no less, and the very day he was placed into the line of succession. Not that he had actually managed to think all that through at the time. He was blaming that on the mead, too.

"Come on, you idiot."

Loki spluttered out the bite he'd just taken from his fruit stick, falling in beside Thor, who was walking toward a trio of trumpeters. "Did you just call me an idiot?"

"The boot fits."

"That boot fits you and your smelly feet."

Thor laughed and threw an arm around Loki's shoulders. "It'll always be this way between us, won't it? No matter how much everything else changes, we'll still be the same. Even when we're old and wrinkly."

"Ew. I just turned twenty, Brother, I don't want to think about being old and wrinkly." He tried to picture it and gave a shudder, imagining something grotesque and not particularly realistic. "Do you remember when we thought we'd never grow up? Oh! I just thought of something. No more Einherjar nursemaids."

"There are Einherjar everywhere tonight. There's a whole group of them over that way doing demonstrations."

"But none of them are following me. I can go where I want and-"

"What?"

Loki grinned with excitement. "Mother gave me a birthday gift already. A pair of knives that I have to go to this remote barely-accessible village in Nidavellir to get."

"That sounds like an adventure," Thor said, coming to a halt before they reached the trumpeters.

"It does. It is."

"Or a quest," he added with a deepening frown.

"That too, perhaps."

"So…are you supposed to go alone?"

Loki blinked at Thor in confusion. Thor had just said a few days ago that he missed him, that he couldn't wait for the two of them to go on adventures together.

"You're usually meant to undertake a quest alone. Is it a quest, or an adventure?"

Oh, Loki thought with a nod of understanding. "I think it's both. Mother said I could go alone, or go with you. I could do it alone…I mean, I think I'm capable of doing it alone. You know Mother wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. But I don't want to do it alone. Whatever the trials of that journey, I'll face them more easily if I'm with you. And I'll have more fun if we go together. Everything about it will be better if we go together."

"Except when we get angry at each other and fight."

Loki shrugged. "Even then. You'll come with me, then, won't you?"

Thor cracked into a grin that spread over his face. "On an adventure? Brother, I'm going to pack a bag tonight, and as soon as the last book goes into retrieval, and you've taken your last notes at your last meeting, I'll race you to the bifrost."

"I'll win," Loki said with a laugh.

"Probably," Thor said with a begrudging laugh. "As long as you don't leave without me."

"Never. We adventure together. Even if I have to wait half an hour for you to catch up."

Thor gave Loki a push to the shoulder; Loki gave Thor one right back. Thor reached for the back of Loki's neck, giving it a squeeze, then a shove. Loki stumbled forward a single step and whirled on Thor whose eyes were now fixed on the trumpeters.

"Come on, Brother, they're about to start." Thor started forward, glancing surreptitiously at Loki out of the corner of his eye as he passed him, though not so surreptitiously that Loki didn't notice.

Loki shook his head, smiled, and followed.

The End

/

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed Law and Order: Asgard. Consider dropping a comment in that box below.

I had two "special features," one an alternate version of a scene but it didn't offer very much I decided, not worth including here and too rough, anyway. Then there was this tidbit, a cut portion of Loki's conversation with Odin. I cut it because the scene was getting too long, and because by delving into a new area it sort of broke up the flow. (Also, Loki's question felt a little forced, and I couldn't figure out how to make it feel more natural, not without a lot of extra effort that I didn't think this little tidbit merited.) It does add a bit to Odin's characterization that I miss, though.

Deleted segment:

"Good. That's all I wanted to speak with you about."

Loki nodded. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course," Odin said, sitting back; Loki thought he looked genuinely curious. He wished he had a more impressive question now.

"Thor and I, we were hoping no one would find out about what happened in the library, so-"

"You intended to make someone else clean up your mess? I'm glad you didn't say this so directly before. I think I would have immediately removed all of your servants for six months. I probably should have done that anyway. Consider your question carefully before you continue."

Loki silently swore, and contemplated six months with no servants. He had no idea how to do laundry or clean his chambers to a shine or cook or any number of other things servants did for him. He should have just thanked his father again, and left. "I, ah, wasn't asking about that exactly…I was just wondering…" Loki swore at himself again. What he'd wanted to ask, Father could take as an accusation. But he'd dug himself into a hole now, and if there was a way out that wouldn't make him look foolish, he didn't see it. "I was surprised that you called Jolgeir in, to ask him what we were doing in the library. I thought you said you weren't going to inquire about the trial."

After a moment, Odin breathed out a short laugh. "You have much to learn about the fine art of splitting hairs, my son. I said I wouldn't inquire with the Central Magistrate's Office. I never said I wouldn't inquire with the libraries, or the Einherjar, or anyone else."