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According to Heimdall, there are fifteen lost children on the ship. One of them is crying into the crook of Thor’s neck. The newly crowned king of Asgard desperately wishes for Volstagg and his natural ease with children. But he banishes the thought, along with any thoughts of his losses whether it be family or friends, lest that wound hurt so much that Thor becomes useless and paralysed in his grief. What good is a king if he is not of use to his own subjects?
No, Thor will not fail in his grief. Instead, he will tend to his subjects, starting with the one whose scraped legs are currently wrapped around his waist. He’d found her exactly where Heimdall had told him she would be, alone and whimpering in the space under a set of stairs. The hiding place is near the entrance to the ship, so she may have found refuge soon after entering. He’d picked her up, hoping to take her to the makeshift orphanage, wracking his brain for a solution to stop the sobbing in the ten minutes it will take him to walk there. A knot forms in his throat when Thor remembers the way his mother used to rub his hair to calm him. He swallows, and then attempts the same with the child’s matted, ginger hair. “Now now, little one—"
“My name isn’t little one!” she wails. “It’s Linnaea! Stop that, it hurts!”
Thor pulls his hand away hastily and finds the reason for the matting of her hair. It’s blood, hidden in plain sight by her scarlet locks. He turns mid-step, and begins to walk faster in the opposite direction. Infirmary first, then he’ll take her to the orphanage.
“Linnaea, I am so sorry,” Thor tells her, taking a left turn and nodding as Korg as they pass him. “I didn’t know.”
“It hurts, I want my mummy!”
So does Thor.
“Linnaea, I am taking you down to the infirmary. My brother Loki is there, and he is a master sorcerer who will—”
A blessed silence. Then.
“Prince Loki?”
“Yes.” Thor sincerely hopes her parents didn’t tell her any horror stories of Loki, because he’s not sure he can take it if she begins to cry again. He considers suggesting to the girl to bite him instead. A young Loki had always found it soothing to bite something whenever he had been in pain — and that something involved was usually Thor’s arm or shoulder. He remembers that it hurt, but he had borne it with pride. In any case, it won’t be as bad as the number that the crying does to his chest.
“I like Prince Loki.”
“Is that right?” That is not the answer Thor would have expected. “Why is that?”
“He died for Asgard, well he did it for you, and then he came back to life,” Linnaea tells him, forgetting her pain instead for the adventures of Loki. “My mum took me to the play. Where is she?”
“I’m not sure, love. As soon as we have your head looked at, we’ll look for her,” Thor tells her. “Hold on, your mother thought it prudent to take you to see a play about death and destruction?”
“I’m not a baby, I’m five years old.” Linnaea snaps. “Mum said it was funny and she thought Uncle Leif was amusing as Prince Loki.”
“I suppose he was.”
Loki.
Thor sees little of Loki, who has decided, “Because I am the most magnanimous prince there ever was,” to set up a medical bay and heal the wounded. And surprisingly, the people of Asgard were happy to be taken care of by him. From what he hears, Loki’s rule had been a time of peace and laughter, and despite the knowledge that it hadn’t been an aging Odin, but a sly Loki who was responsible, the Aesir have accepted this news without much as a ruffling of a feather. Thor takes the stairs down to the infirmary carefully. He’s learned his lesson about the correlation between lacking possession of two eyes and depth perception the hard way, twice. He’d rather not relearn the lesson a third time with a child in his arms. Still he nearly misses the last step and skids his way into the waiting room.
The patients look up to him, nod in acknowledgement, and let him be. His people are exhausted and hurt, but the worst of it has already been dealt with in the first day. When Thor had come in then, Loki had been wrist deep inside someone and had greeting him with orders to help. Now, two healers who had made it to the ship were assisting him. Today, the waiting room seems to be filled with patients sufferings from scrapes and scratches, and prior ailments. There had been an inquiry after zedoary seed after a patient was discovered with their daily prescription for the sugar illness.
Thor takes to pacing outside the waiting room. Linnaea no longer cries loudly, too tired to do so, but still she shakes silently in his arms. Thor doesn’t know what to do.
“Are you going to pace all day?” Loki’s voice calls out. Thor looks back into the waiting room to find his brother — locks of raven hair fighting to escape the braid it’s been tucked into — wearing white medical gloves and a face of exhaustion. Thor looks at the other patients who’ve been waiting for much longer.
“Please, your highness. Let the child be seen to first,” an expecting mother from the waiting room tells him.
Thor bows his head in thanks and takes Linnaea, who holds her arms out towards her hero, to Loki. His brother takes her gingerly, letting her tighten her hold around his waist with her ankles. “There’s enough red in your hair without your blood colouring it. Let’s do something about that.”
He takes her into the first examination room, and Thor follows, the door automatically sliding shut behind him.
“This will be easy work, and it won’t hurt a bit,” Loki tells her with a gentle voice as he sets her down on the examination table. “Just stay still and close your eyes. And give me my hands back, I’ll be needing them.”
Linnaea slowly lets go of the hand she’d been clutching, and they shake in her lap. Loki, presses glove-covered palms over her much smaller hands, covering them with artist’s fingers. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Silence, except for Linnaea’s uneven breathing and intermittent hiccupping. After a long while, Loki finally lets go of her hands, and they’re finally still.
It’s been years since Thor has seen Loki be so gentle with anyone, let alone a stranger. Thor watches in wonder as Loki weaves his spell. There isn’t even a soul forge present, and Loki had specialised in battle sorcery, not healing, but none of this is apparent in his spellcasting. Green and gold tendrils of light wrap around her head, and dissipate into sparks of light. In its wake, the wound has been healed and the blood has disappeared. “You may open your eyes now. Does it hurt?”
“No. Itches.”
“Itching is good. It’s healing. You’ve been a brave girl. I’m almost done. I need to shine a light into your eyes, just for a second. Is that alright?”
“Alright, Prince Loki.”
Loki raises a single eyebrow at the title, then continues with his examination. Thor watches in fascination; it reminds him of dinner at Volstagg’s house — Loki playing tricks with the children and Volstagg and his wife Hildegard watching in amusement — and that thought steals his breath away.
“Are you hurting anywhere else?”
“No, Prince Loki.”
“Then you’re good to go. Be proud of yourself, you’ve been a very good girl.”
“Yes. Good girl, Linnaea,” Thor says, moving to pick her up. At hearing her name, Loki places a hand on her shoulder.
“Linnaea, who are you here with?”
“I came with my mummy, but it was really scary, and I lost her.”
Thor shakes his head at Loki to cut the conversation before she bursts into tears again. There’s only so much rainfall that even Thor, God of Thunder, Lightning and other forms of weather, can control. Loki flares his nose at him in annoyance. “And what’s her name?”
“Mummy. Oh wait, I mean, Ingeborg.”
Hold on. Loki turns to his screen and flips through a few tabs until he finds whatever it is he’s looking for. “Starboard side, Floor M, room M9002. Ingeborg Nihlsdottir,” he tells Thor. “She was here a few hours ago, mentioned she was looking for her daughter, Linnaea.”
Thor would gasp, if it wouldn’t give away how much Loki has surprised him by remembering something so insignificant. But instead of smiling, the child bursts into another set of tears and rushes at Loki’s legs. “Prince Loki, you found my mummy!”
Loki stares, panicked, at Thor for help, and he smiles and reaches down for Linnaea, pulling her away from Loki’s calves and back onto his hip. “I’ll take you there now, alright?” Thor tells her, who nods, still staring at Loki in awe. “Thank you, Loki.”
Thor leans forward to press his lips to Loki’s brow, a habit he hasn’t indulged in since they were both youths. Loki freezes, likely looking for a dagger to stab Thor with, and Thor pulls away. He might get sentimental at the idea of a casual stabbing by his brother, but Linnaea would likely be less appreciative. “Go away now, I have others to tend to.”
-
It’s nearly midnight when Thor comes back to medical, this time alone. Ingeborg and Linnaea, now happily united, as well as most civilians on the ship, and safe, sound and hopefully asleep in their quarters. The hallway lights are dimmed, and Thor finds himself needing to hold onto the walls to keep himself in the right direction. The ship uses cosmic radiation as a power source, so they won’t run out of power anytime soon, but it’s still in power-saving mode.
The waiting room is blissfully empty of patients, and the other two healers have clearly gone home, but Loki is studiously cleaning his materials in the examination room when Thor knocks and enters. “What’s the matter, is it the eye?”
“No.” Thor had had it seen to already and it was fine, except for the part where it’s missing. Obviously, there were perception issues, but he just needs practice. He’s sure it’ll be fine. There are bigger problems.
“Ah.” Loki pulls off his gloves and throws them in the bin. “You’ve come to make sure I’m not up to mischief. Rest assured, brother, I’m only being what I promised to be.”
“And what would that be?”
Loki smirks. “Why, didn’t you hear me before? The saviour of Asgard.”
Thor lets out a small laugh. “Well, would the saviour of Asgard care for dinner?”
“With the king? What an honour.”
Thor grins. “No, just Thor, the idiot who can’t do anything of use on this ship.” He throws an arm around Loki and lets out an inner shout of joy when it isn’t rejected. They haven’t fought since they made it to the ship, and Thor would like to keep it that way.
“Well, I suppose it will have to do.” Loki sets up the alarm in case anyone comes down in an emergency, locks the doors, and they walk to Loki’s room. His brother presses his hand up against the wall grid and the door slides open, and then closes shut behind them.
Loki takes a quick look at Thor’s dishevelled self, and at himself, then begins to cast a spell very familiar to Thor. A cleansing charm for the days when they were too tired for a shower or a bath, and then an incantation to change their armour for softer clothing. Thor finds himself in soft trousers and a white tunic. Loki wears black leggings and a long green tunic, as he used to, back – Thor cuts the thought out. He must stop thinking of Asgard-That-Was as his home. It is gone now. Best move on. Loki sits on a plush chair on one side of the small table, where dinner awaits.
“How romantic,” Loki says, a small smile adorning his face. Smoked seafood and some kind of soft green fruit are drizzled with some kind of golden syrup on gold-leafed plates await them.
“The food forge needs to be reprogrammed,” Thor explains wearily for what seems like the fiftieth time today. “All it does is make alcohol and aphrodisiacs. It’s on the list.” The list of things they need to fix on this ship to make it inhabitable for more than just orgies is growing longer and longer by the day. Thor sits down across from Loki. “Vær så god.”
“Vær så god,” Loki echoes. “Good old Grandmaster. We had some fun in here.”
One day, Loki will tell him what happened in the six weeks between his arrival and Loki’s in Sakaar. But now, when Loki looks so exhausted he might tip over if wind blew at him the wrong way, is not the time.
They eat their meal quietly. Thor, who’d spent the day delegating work and speaking to no less than a hundred people, is far too tired for words. Loki looks so pale he’s turning blue. Wait, no. Loki is actually turning blue. “Brother…” Thor begins, pointing at Loki’s fingers, his eyes fixed on the emerging blue and pointiness of his ears.
“What?” Loki asks, examining his fingers. “Oh. Lovely.”
“What’s happening to you?”
“Father’s enchantment died with him,” Loki says unflappably. “And I’m getting too tired to unconsciously keep up the enchantment myself.”
Loki never speaks of his true appearance, Thor must tread carefully. “You mustn’t feel like you have to put up an appearance with me Loki. I would prefer you conserved your energy. You’re overworking yourself.”
Loki turns his face away from Thor, and he thinks he’s caught him surprised in a smile. “How very kind of you, Thor. But I’d rather not terrify our already terrified Asgardians with further reminder of a Jötunn on the ship.”
The blue fades from his eyes and his lips, the enchantment stronger than before. “Well, thank you for the dinner, now I’ve got some reading to do, if you’ll excuse me.”
Thor knows when Loki’s trying to dismiss his way out of an uncomfortable moment. “I hadn’t realised that the Grandmaster had brought books along on his pleasure yacht.”
Loki rolls his eyes. “No, you oaf. From my library.”
“What?”
“Look.” Loki rolls his eyes, and turns his wrist and graceful fingers, opening a quick doorway to a pocked dimension. “Healing Before The Soul Forge, and others of similar nature, please.” Three books fly into his hand and the dimension portal closes, the gust of wind that results from it knocks Loki off balance, and he stumbles. Thor reaches for his brother, steadying him by a hand to his lower back. Loki slaps it away, so Thor grabs the books and sets them on the table. Then he turns, fast as lightning to pick up Loki and throw him over his shoulder. “Put me down. Right now.”
“You can barely stand, let me just get you to bed.”
“I’m not a healer, I need to do my research, or would you prefer your ill subjects start growing second heads because I botched up a spell?” Loki snipes at him even as he lets Thor tuck him in. “Give me the book, else King or not, you’ll regret it.”
“What are you so desperate to learn anyway? You need your rest if you want to continue treating people tomorrow.” It’s clear Loki won’t stop anytime soon, he so craves the approval of his people.
Loki rolls his eyes. “Fine, your highness. Then you can help me.” He conjures a piece of paper and rips it in half, holding out the half to him. “Find the answers to these questions I wrote down today. And pass me a book.”
Thor takes the offered slip of paper and reads it over.
How do I perform a spine-block injection without a soul forge?
Pregnancy recommendations
Vaccination plans and determining how to make them from the medical forge
The list goes on and on. “Alright, you take the compendium and I’ll read the one about soul forges.” Thor hands him the book, and heads back to the table they’d been eating at. Flipping to the index in the back, Thor begins his research.
When he’s found answers to all but two of the questions on the list, he looks up to ask Loki for help, and finds him asleep, the book laying open in his lap. His hair has come so loose it’s no longer recognisably part of a braid. His skin is slowly returning to a delightful shade of azure.
Thor takes the book from him, and the paper he’d been using to write his answers, setting the paper with the elegant cursive next to Thor’s own scratchings on the table. He means to leave before Loki turns completely back into his Jötunn self. Loki’s physical appearance will never be of consequence to Thor. Loki had changed his gender half a millennium ago, then changed it again. Blue skin and red eyes were far less scandalous to Thor, especially now that his bigotry has been unlearned. But Loki doesn’t trust him with it, and Thor would rather not risk this fragile alliance by stressing the matter or stepping out of the imaginary bounds that Loki has placed him in. Still, he finds himself staring at the intricate markings on Loki’s skin.
Thor knows better than to trust Loki, knows that he’s probably got other pocket dimensions, filled with things much more dangerous than books. But Loki looks innocent like this. Thor finds all he wants to do is press another kiss to Loki’s forehead, his nose, his cheek. Shower him with affection the way he used to when they were children. It’s as if he can’t help it anymore; he leans down and pressing a feather-light kiss —a brush of the lips really — into Loki’s hair before tucking it behind his ear.
Thor turns the light off and gingerly climbs into bed. Loki turns in his sleep, digging an elbow into Thor’s side. His skin is cold, but it doesn’t burn Thor. His mouth against Loki’s forehead feel right. Tomorrow is another day, with its own set of problems they’ll have to face together. But for now, he holds his only family closer, and they sleep.
-
When he awakens, Loki is snoring, his nose pressed against Thor’s neck, and an arm and a leg thrown over Thor’s torso. Today will be better, he thinks.