Chapter Text
The skies of Asgard roared with fury, lightning splitting the darkened clouds as rain poured down in torrents. Thunder echoed through the grand halls of the palace, rattling the ancient foundations as if the heavens themselves were in turmoil. But it wasn’t actually the skies that were angry; it was Thor. He stormed through the hallways, his footsteps heavy and fast, as if charging into battle. Servants and guards alike stepped aside, bowing as he passed, their expressions laced with concern. They knew better than to interrupt their prince when the weather mirrored his mood so closely.
Today had been one of those days—one where the weight of the crown, still yet to be placed upon his head, pressed down so heavily on his shoulders that he could barely breathe. Odin had summoned him at dawn, just as he had every day for as long as Thor could remember, to train, to learn, to be molded into the king Asgard needed. Thor spent every day listening to Odin's bitter and cutting remarks. He didn’t understand why his father acted so cruelly over trivial mistakes. He had always acted as Odin wanted, even marrying according to his wishes. Thor didn’t know where he was lacking. Sometimes he wished to scream back at Odin and be done with the throne and succession, but the future of two realms depended on him, so Thor always swallowed it like the bitter concoction the healers gave him when he was sick. No matter how much he improved, no matter how much wisdom he gleaned from his father’s harsh lessons, it was never enough. Thor was never enough. Not compared to Balder, Odin's firstborn, the real heir, who had gracefully opted out of the throne, leaving the entire burden squarely on Thor’s shoulders. Thor admired his older brother’s ability to step away and forge his own path away from the weight of expectation, but he couldn’t help the envy that burned within him.
Balder was free. Thor was trapped.
The same Balder who was now traveling the realms with his beloved wife. He had to leave only a month after Thor's wedding, but Thor couldn’t blame him; how could he? It wasn’t Balder's fault.
By the time he reached the doors to his chambers, Thor felt completely drained, his clothes sticking uncomfortably to his body with all the sweat from the time he spent alone in the empty arena, venting his frustration on the dummies before coming here. It was of no help. The storm outside raged on, and Thor could feel the tension in his muscles tighten, his fists clenching involuntarily. All he wanted was to be alone, to let his anger dissipate in solitude, or he might use some company, but his husband would be asleep by now. As he passed the dressing room, he paused to take a look at himself. He looked as miserable as he felt. Norns! He was in desperate need of a bath.
But as he pushed open the doors of his bedroom and stepped inside, he was met with a sight that stopped him in his tracks. He had longed all day to see the person before him, who was thrust into his life out of the blue and now, Thor could hardly imagine life without him. “Loki,” he breathed out.
Loki was on the balcony, his lithe form spinning gracefully under the downpour, the fabric of his robes clinging to his slender frame. His dark hair was soaked, droplets of water cascading down his azure skin, but his face was alight with joy, a bright, infectious smile on his lips. He twirled and laughed, his laughter carried away by the wind, but Thor heard it all the same.
For a moment, Thor just stood there, mesmerized by the sight before him. He could feel the tension in his body starting to melt away, his anger and sadness seeping out of him with every drop of rain that fell. Loki had always had that effect on him. From the day he first laid eyes on his little jotun on their wedding day, the mischievous snake had slithered into his mind and heart. It was strange, the way Loki could calm the storm inside him with just a smile, a laugh, a touch.
He had heard people complain in hushed voices whenever there was an unexpected storm, knowing it was Thor. Loki loved it—the storm, the lightning, the rain. Thor thought the same. Rain was beautiful, just like Loki.
Thor’s feet carried him forward, closer to the balcony, though he remained inside, unwilling to disrupt the scene before him. Loki noticed him then, and his smile widened, his ruby eyes sparkling with mischief and something else—something softer, more tender.
Without a word, Loki crossed the threshold and reached out, grabbing Thor’s arms and pulling him out into the rain. Thor let himself be led, his resistance melting away as he stepped into the downpour, feeling the cool water soak through his clothes. Loki’s touch was gentle, his fingers wrapping around Thor’s wrist as he drew him closer, his smile never faltering.
Loki's mood was mercurial, so was his behavior. Sometimes he would touch Thor so freely, offer easy smiles, and share his thoughts, while at other times, he would just stare at Thor like he was some strange being, or call him an idiot and insufferable, making his displeasure evident whenever Thor intruded on his personal space. Playing pranks on Thor was his favorite hobby, and initially, it drove Thor to madness, but now he was better at being Loki's only target. It was hard to understand Loki, but Thor was trying, so he accepted it as it was. It was the least he could do. Loki was far from his family and his people, and things were considerably new and foreign to him. Loki was adjusting to this drastic change in his own way, at his own pace, and as his husband, Thor was here for him.
“Why so serious, my prince?” Loki teased, his voice lilting, a hint of a laugh in his tone. “Come, dance with me.”
Thor hesitated, the remnants of his earlier frustration lingering, but when Loki’s hand wrapped around his waist and his other hand entwined with Thor’s, Thor couldn’t resist. He allowed himself to be pulled into the dance, his movements stiff at first, but Loki’s easy grace soon had him following along, matching Loki’s steps.
The rain continued to pour, soaking them both, but neither of them seemed to care. Loki began to hum an unfamiliar tune, the sound low and soothing, and Thor found himself lost in it, the melody wrapping around him like a warm embrace. The world around them faded, the storm forgotten, as they danced together in the rain, the only sound the soft hum of Loki’s voice and the patter of rain against the stone.
They were brought together by the treaty between their fathers, for the sake of the realm. Loki had looked so young and vulnerable as he was brought before Thor by his larger than life brothers. Thor had instantly felt protective of him and vowed to himself that he would take care of Loki and make him feel at home. His mother had told him to be gentle, and Thor wasn’t a monster; he would be a good husband. Thor couldn’t let his parents and Asgard down. The wedding rituals and the feast that had followed passed in a haze, with them sneaking occasional glances at each other. Once they had retired to their new chambers, Loki broke the silence, asking Thor about his intentions and how he would take Loki. Thor was speechless for a moment but then made it clear that he wasn’t going to do anything until Loki wanted it and they were both completely comfortable and ready. Loki was defensive, inquiring further, “What if I’m never ready?” expecting Thor to reveal his real intentions. Thor was of Loki’s height but twice as wide, and if he wanted, he could break Loki in half and have his way at that very instant. But to Loki’s disbelief, Thor had said, “Then we lie to our parents.” Thor had then offered Loki his hand. “Truce?” which Loki had taken hesitantly. “Truce.”
They still hadn’t taken their marriage to another level—there were still walls between them, barriers they hadn’t yet crossed—but they were growing comfortable in each other’s presence, in the small touches, the gentle gestures, and that was better than nothing.
As they danced, Thor felt something inside him shift, the anger and frustration that had been gnawing at him all day finally releasing its hold. He looked down at Loki, his eyes meeting those of his husband, and in that moment, everything else seemed to fall away. There was only Loki, only the rain, only the dance.
“Thank you,” Thor murmured, his voice low, almost lost in the sound of the storm.
Loki looked up at him, his smile softening, and he gave a small nod, as if he understood without needing to ask. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice just as quiet.
They continued to dance, the world around them fading into the background, and Thor strangely felt at peace as if the emotions that kept tormenting him throughout the day never existed.
Thor and Loki moved together, their steps now slowing as the rain softened to a gentle patter. Thor didn't know if it lasted for a few minutes or an hour as he was lost in Loki but the moment was broken when Loki stepped away from Thor’s embrace, his bare feet splashing in the shallow pools of rainwater that had collected on the stone floor of the balcony. With a gleam in his eye, he twirled once more, laughing as he moved closer to the edge of the balcony, the barrier that separated them from the drop below.
Thor watched him with a fond smile, knowing how much Loki loved the rain. Jotunheim, his husband’s homeland, rarely experienced rain; it was a land of ice and snow, cold and harsh. Thor could still remember the first time Loki had experienced an Asgardian storm—the way his eyes had lit up like a child discovering a hidden treasure. He had twirled in the downpour just as he did now, his joy infectious, his laughter echoing through the halls.
Since then, Thor had found himself using his powers deliberately to create rainstorms whenever he noticed Loki’s mood dipping. It was a small thing, something that made Loki happy, and Thor was more than willing to bring that joy to his husband. It was a way for him to give Loki a piece of Asgard, a piece of himself, and in return, Loki’s happiness brought Thor a sense of peace.
But as Loki moved closer to the edge, his hands spread out as if to embrace the sky, a sudden wave of protectiveness surged through Thor. The sight of Loki standing so close to the precipice, his head tilted back with abandon, sent a jolt of worry through him. Without thinking, Thor reached out and abruptly pulled Loki back from the edge.
The force of the movement caused Loki to stumble, crashing into Thor’s chest with a startled gasp. Confusion clouded Loki’s eyes as he looked up at his husband, his expression questioning, but Thor’s grip on his arms was firm, his touch grounding.
“You’re dangerously close to the edge,” Thor explained softly, his voice a low rumble, tinged with concern.
Loki blinked, processing Thor’s words, and then slowly nodded, his earlier exuberance tempered by the suddenness of the moment. He didn’t pull away, allowing himself to remain within Thor’s protective hold, their faces inches apart, the warmth of Thor’s breath fanning across Loki’s cool skin. Thor’s hands were still on his arms, and for a heartbeat, they remained frozen in that moment, the storm a distant hum.
“Let us go inside,” Thor urged gently, breaking the tension that had settled between them. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Loki rolled his eyes at the comment, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. “I’m a Jotun, Thor. I don’t catch colds.”
But despite his words, Loki allowed Thor to pull him inside, his resistance purely playful. Thor knew well enough that Loki could withstand far harsher conditions than a mere rainstorm, but the impulse to protect, to care, was ingrained deeply in Thor. It was something Loki had come to accept, even if he occasionally teased Thor for it.
Thor guided Loki toward the mirror that stood in the corner of their chambers, gently urging him to sit on the cushioned stool before it. Loki complied, though not without a soft sigh of protest.
“It’s still raining,” Loki complained, his gaze shifting longingly to the balcony. “It would be such a waste not to enjoy it while it lasts.”
Thor’s eyes softened at Loki’s words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone almost teasing.
Without breaking eye contact, Thor focused inwardly, and within seconds, the rain outside came to a sudden stop. The clouds parted and thunder and lightning faded away quickly into nothingness. The shift was so abrupt that Loki’s eyes widened in surprise, a look of realization dawning on his face as he turned back to Thor.
“You…” Loki started, his voice trailing off as he stared at Thor in disbelief. “You can control the rain? The thunder… all of it?”
Thor chuckled softly, the sound resonating through the quiet room. “Of course, Loki.”
Loki’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was struggling to find the right words. The realization that Thor had been creating these rainstorms specifically for him, simply to lift his spirits, hit Loki with a force he hadn’t anticipated. How could he have been so oblivious? Of course Thor had that power—it was a fundamental part of who he was. He was the God of Thunder.
But the fact that Thor had used that power so thoughtfully, so tenderly, for his sake… it made Loki’s heart swell with a complex mix of emotions.
Still reeling from this newfound knowledge, Loki was silent as Thor disappeared into the adjoining room, only to return moments later with a pair of towels. Thor’s expression was one of utter concentration as he began to dry Loki’s hair.
Thor’s movements were careful, almost reverent and Loki found himself watching Thor’s reflection in the mirror, the sight both intimate and oddly comforting. Thor’s focus was entirely on the task at hand, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration, and it was clear that he was determined to ensure Loki was completely dry.
The intimacy of the moment caught Loki off guard. Despite their political marriage, moments like these were not what Loki had expected. They were still navigating the uncharted waters of their relationship, trying to find a balance between their duties and whatever this was, the odd gnawing feeling. Yet here was Thor, so naturally slipping into a role that felt almost… domestic. Thor was supposed to a mindless brute but he wasn't. The tales about him said so.
Loki’s gaze shifted from Thor’s reflection to his own, and he was startled to see a faint purple flush creeping across his otherwise blue cheeks. It was subtle, just a hint of color, but it was enough to make Loki’s heart skip a beat. He hadn’t even realized he was capable of blushing before, now he often found himself in such state, especially when Thor was around .
Thor seemed oblivious to Loki’s sudden change in color, his focus still on the task of drying Loki’s hair. Loki couldn’t help but smile at the sight—Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, so intent on something as mundane as drying his husband’s hair. It was an endearing sight.
“Thor,” Loki finally said, his voice softer than usual.
“Hm?” Thor responded, not looking up as he continued to gently rub the towel through Loki’s dark locks.
“You are cute.”
Thor paused, his hands stilling for a moment before he finally looked up, meeting Loki’s gaze in the mirror. His expression was one of surprise. people called him many things but cute was certainly new. But then his lips curved into a soft smile, and he nodded.
“And why do you think so?” Thor asked, his voice unusually soft and Loki just shrugged. “I just want to take care of you and that doesn't make me cute but thank you.”
Loki’s heart fluttered at those words, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Each day he learned something new about Thor, revealing a side so different from the gossip he’d heard back in Jotunheim when their marriage was announced. They used to laugh at Loki’s fate, some even pitying him. If only they truly knew Thor, they would be envious.Thor was nothing like the distorted stories spun about him as the thunderer.
Loki had also observed the way Aesir men and women looked at Thor—they desired him. Loki loathed the feeling this evoked in him, but at least they had the decency to stay away from his husband. His Thor. Only his. This possessiveness was also new to him. It was heavy, uncomfortable, and unsettling. Maybe it was a sign that he had begun to accept his fate. Perhaps it was all for the best—him being a runt, him being different—everything leading Thor to him. Or maybe it was just a coincidence, a twist of fate where they finally noticed Loki and took an interest in his life. Regardless, it was a comforting thought.
Loki allowed himself to lean into that care, to accept it without reservations. He closed his eyes, letting out a small sigh as Thor continued to dry his hair, the gentle motions lulling him into a state of calm.
When Thor finally finished, he set the towel aside and placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Loki opened his eyes, meeting Thor’s gaze in the mirror once more.
“You’re dry now,” Thor said with a smile, “and you’re not allowed to go back outside.”
Loki rolled his eyes again, but the gesture lacked its usual sharpness. “Fine,” he conceded, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
Thor chuckled, the sound rich and warm, shaking his head and Loki could only stared. Thor was so beautiful.
Loki’s gaze lingered on Thor’s reflection in the mirror, a soft smile still playing on his lips as he watched his husband. There was something undeniably satisfying about seeing the mighty Thor, God of Thunder, looking so content, smiling. But Loki wasn’t done yet.
With a sudden burst of playfulness, Loki stood up from his seat and reached out, grabbing Thor by the arm and pulling him down into the seat he had just vacated. Thor blinked in surprise, his confusion evident as Loki declared with a mischievous grin, “Now it’s my turn.”
Thor watched, bemused, as Loki took the towel and settled in front of him, gently gathering Thor’s long, wet hair in his hands. Loki’s touch was careful, his fingers combing through the golden strands as he began to dry them with the same concentration Thor had shown moments earlier. Thor blinked at him, wide-eyed, as if trying to process the sudden role reversal.
The last time someone had done this for Thor, he had been a small child, no more than eight years old. He remembered how his mother had tutted in mock disapproval, her hands warm and comforting as she dried his hair after he’d spent too long outside in the storm. “You shouldn’t spend so much time in the storm, even if you like it,” she had said, her tone affectionate. It was a distant memory, one that Thor had almost forgotten, but now it resurfaced, bringing with it a wave of nostalgia.
Loki’s voice pulled Thor out of his reverie. “Are you mad?” Loki asked softly, his tone laced with a hint of concern. “That I pulled you into the rain without asking?”
Thor shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I’m not mad. In fact, I think I needed that.”
Loki’s expression softened further at Thor’s words, and he continued his task, the towel moving slowly through Thor’s hair. Several moments passed in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft rustling of the towel against Thor’s hair. But then, Loki’s hands stilled, his movements pausing as if he were suddenly lost in thought.
Thor opened his mouth to ask if something was wrong, but the words died in his throat as Loki’s hands began to move again, this time traveling down from Thor’s hair to his face. Loki’s touch was light, almost tentative, as if he were exploring something fragile and precious. His fingers traced the shape of Thor’s brows, skimming over the ridge of his nose, lingering on his high cheekbones, before moving lower to brush against the rough stubble on his jawline.
Thor held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as Loki’s fingers seemed to memorize every contour of his face. It was as if Loki was studying him, committing every detail to memory. And then, with a soft hum of satisfaction, Loki’s fingers settled on the corner of Thor’s lips, gently tugging them into a smile.
“That’s better,” Loki declared, his voice light but with a depth of emotion that made Thor’s chest tighten. Loki’s own face broke into a smile, and the warmth of it was like the first rays of sunlight after a storm.
Thor couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare to. It was as if the very act of drawing breath would shatter this fragile, tender moment between them. He had never experienced anything quite like this before meeting Loki. It was as though Loki had peeled away every layer of armor Thor had ever built around himself, leaving him exposed, but not in a way that felt threatening. Instead, it was liberating, as if Thor could finally be just… himself.
The moment stretched on, until Loki finally broke the silence with a soft chuckle. He withdrew his hand from Thor’s face and stepped back, the spell broken but not the warmth that lingered between them.
“I need to change,” Loki said, his voice returning to its usual playful tone. “These wet clothes are becoming quite uncomfortable.”
Thor remained seated, his eyes following Loki as he moved to the wardrobe and selected a set of dry, comfortable clothes. Loki changed quickly in a blink, with a flick of his fingers, the wet robes discarded and replaced by something loose and soft, more suited for night. Once dressed, Loki turned back to Thor, his expression one of pure contentment.
Without warning, Loki bounded toward the bed and jumped onto the mattress, sprawling out with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. He stretched out his limbs, taking up as much space as possible, and then turned his head to look at Thor with a smirk wiggling his fingers mimicking the gesture Thor used to indicate magic. He enjoyed teasing Thor.
“Lazy,” Thor chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.
Loki’s eyes narrowed in mock anger, a dramatic flare to his expression. “Do I smell jealousy?” he retorted, his tone light.
Thor couldn’t help but laugh, the sound deep and genuine. “Perhaps,” he admitted, his smile never wavering.
Deciding on something Loki did that thing again with his fingers as he watched Thor rising from the seat to change out of his own damp clothes. Before Thor could reach the wardrobe, he found himself dressed in dry clothes. For Thor, Loki had opted for something similar to what he wore, a simple tunic and trousers, loose and comfortable. He couldn’t help but glance at Loki, who was now lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a serene expression.
"Thank you, Loki. I don't know what I'd be doing without you." Thor exclaimed as he joined Loki on the bed, settling on his side so that he could face his husband. The mattress dipped under his weight, and as he lay down, Thor felt a deep sense of relief wash over him. He allowed himself to relax, his body sinking into the soft mattress. The bed was warm, the air in the room still carrying a faint chill from the rain outside, and the combination of comfort and exhaustion was almost too much to resist. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, his thoughts beginning to blur at the edges as the allure of sleep beckoned.
Beside him, Loki shifted slightly, turning onto his side as well, so that they were facing each other. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, no words needed. This connection between them— still so new, so complicated, so layered and fragile, felt more real than anything else.
“You look tired,” Loki murmured.
“I am,” Thor admitted, his voice low. “But it feels good. This… feels good.”
Loki’s lips curled into a small smile, his eyes warm with understanding. “Then rest,” he said simply. “I’m here.”
Thor nodded, his eyes already closing as sleep began to claim him. The last thing he felt before drifting off was the gentle brush of Loki’s hand against his own, a small gesture of comfort, it anchored him even as his consciousness slipped away.
........
Thor startled awake, feeling the icy cold touch of Loki's foot against his calf. It wasn't the first time this had happened, nor it was the first time Loki had shifted close to him in sleep, not that Thor minded the proximity but Norns, he was yet to get used to Loki's dangerously cold feet.
It was still dark outside and Thor lay still beneath Loki's weight. Loki was was sprawled atop him, one hand clutching Thor's collar while the other was twisted in a strange manner that only Loki could sleep comfortably in. Thor drew a sudden breath, unsure whether to move or savour this closeness. Loki muttered something incomprehensible about fish and Bilgesnipes and Frost Beasts, burying his face deeper into Thor's neck. The sensation of Loki's breath against his skin sending shiver down Thor's spine and Loki snored softly, oblivious to the effects he had on his poor husband.
Thor wasn't sure if Loki was aware of this habit of his and he had never dared to bring it up, it was common between married people, wasn't it? He wondered if Loki had anyone to cuddle with back in Jotunheim, given how everyone was a giant there. Loki had never shared a bed with anyone, Thor knew that much from what Loki had told him. So that meant he had developed this thing after sharing bed with Thor. Loki felt comfortable and safe in Thor's presence. A smile tugged at Thor's lips at this thought. He gently shifted beneath Loki to readjust their position into a more comfortable one, he also tucked in Loki's other hand that wasn't holding his collar under the covers.
With a quiet sigh of contentment, Thor wrapped his arms around Loki pulling him closer so he could feel Loki's heartbeat against his own, steady and reassuring. As the night slowly gave way to dawn, Thor closed his eyes again, holding Loki tightly.
On their wedding night, Thor had slept on the settee, and the night after that, and the entire week following. Then Loki had come to him, saying Thor could sleep on the bed; he didn't need to torture himself for Loki. So, they began sleeping on the same bed, with a barrier of pillows created by Thor as a reassurance for Loki. This barrier proved utterly useless, as Loki's cold feet always found a way to jolt Thor out of sleep. Thor had thought it was one of Loki's tricks to bother him, but it was discarded as soon as Thor's eyes fell on Loki's sleeping face, and he allowed himself for the first time to properly look at Loki. His heart had started pounding so loudly that he feared it would wake Loki up, so he quickly withdrew. The wall of pillows was gone within a month of their marriage.
Marriage hadn't turned out to be so terrible after all. Perhaps the Norns had a different fate in store for him. Whatever it was, Thor felt deeply thankful for Loki. He only wished that Loki shared his sentiment.