Chapter Text
The sun rose as if withdrawing it's embrace from Asgard. Training drills at early mornings had been a lifetime routine for the Einherjar, and for their commander, it seemed like it was probably what he knew his entire life.
Wake. Train. Drills. Bark orders. Eat honey buns from the local market (he would never admit he likes them). Make at least one new trainee almost pee his pants. Sleep peacefully.
That's the stoic and grumpy old Tyr everyone's heard of. But this morning, it surprised the Einherjar, even the warriors three, that he was absent in the training grounds.
"Is the commander unwell?" Sif questioned a nearby warrioress, who just shook her head.
This is what had happened: one of Odin's Ravens had perched itself on Tyr's broad shoulder. "The All Father demands your presence in the Royal Court. Immediately," and it flew -vanished would be the right word- into the sky.
Currently, Tyr has been listening to a serious yet boring conversation at the court, that dealt with the coronation of the new King of Jotunheimr.
"Helblindi is quick of temper, and we must send someone to stand for Asgard at his coronation. Yet I doubt our people can endure the cold of Jotunheimr." Odin announced at last, and looked around the court, searching for any objection. "Let us, then, send but two - one to represent the royals, and one the court,"
Some of the nobles tried to shrink in their seats as if it was possible. Some avoided eye contact of any sort. Odin's eye landed on his youngest -adopted- son, knowing that he'd be immune to the unkind weather of the ice realm, though he was relieved that no one knew why. "Loki," Odin called out, "you shall take part in the coronation on behalf of the Royal Family." Loki stood, face still masked but surprise glinted in his eyes.
"Very well, Father. I shall go forth and bear Asgard's name with honour," Thor looked up from the next seat, at Loki, who then sat down having made an agreement. "You can have my fur cloaks, little brother, you'll freeze out there," he beamed, to which Loki only rose an eyebrow. (And tried to suppress a smile, don't tell anyone)
"And to keep you from any danger," Odin continued. "Commander Tyr shall go with you. And to represent the Royal Court,too." The All Father nodded in Tyr's direction, to which he only rose his gaze from the floor. He stood, and politely dipped his head "It'd be of great pleasure to me, your highness,"
And across the table that had nobles on it's sides, Tyr met Loki's eyes to search for any hint of discomfort. He was only met with boredom in them.
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When they were in Jotunheimr, the nobles and the great, soon to be king, the first born of Laufey himself welcomed them. "Envoys of Asgard, we bid you welcome to Jotunheimr. It is lovely that the All Father has sent his beloved son and the powerful commander in the realm!" Helblindi roared in his thunderous voice.
He was tall, like the rest of the Jotnar. His crimson eyes glowed in Jotunheim's mist, casting a faint red glow on his silver Armor that clung to his shoulders. For a moment even Tyr felt small among them. " Rest now within our halls, for the morrow shall be a day of great honour."
The cold halls of the frozen palace echoed with their footsteps as they were walked to show their guest chambers. Tyr had still not revovered from the feast the Jotnar had carefully prepared for guests from other realms. It was warm, made with care but they didn't have any honey buns here.
"You shall rest here, prince of Asgard and great commander," the servant opened a large ice door.
The walls were frost, hard as teak wood and had carved runes and relics over it. A room. One frostbitten room. "I shall see you both in the morrow," With a bow the servant dipped his head and walked off in big steps, leaving behind an awkward silence.
As the Aesir stood there, they noticed how the Jotnar had made the room to fit non-frost giants to fit in. Wooden cot with a cozy bed, covered with pelts of Jotun beasts, which was definitely cold; ice or not. Loki's eyes scanned the shelves, decorated with frost lilies and ice creepers.
Drinking horns of mead chilled to near-frozen perfection, trays of crystalline fruit from Jotunheim's ice-gardens, maybe enchanted mirrors that show snowstorms from across the realm like a live feed.
It's not warm, but it's awe-inspiring-designed to remind guests they're in a land of giants where even the guest room humbles you. The balcony door was closed, thanks to Laufey. He exhaled and walked toward the enchanted mirror, touching it in the gentlest way to feel the temperature.
He didn't feel anything... Off. It was almost normal. Cold, yes. But the kind of cold you feel on Asgardian winters, not the unkind one of Jotunheim. Loki was surprised, confused, and didn't even know how to react.
"It's pretty generous of the Jotnar to keep the temperature fit for Aesir in the guest chambers, is it not, commander?" He turned to see Tyr, who was already draping three white fur blankets over him, visibly trembling from the cold. The prince blinked. "Commander?" Tyr had already sunk down onto the bedside, onto the cold wooden floor, his movements looking gentler for a man trembling from ice.
"Pardon me, prince. Old bones. Can't cope with cruel temperature." That sentence was spoken through chattering teeth, by a man trying to appear normal but was looking like he might pass out. Loki only tilted his head with furrowed brows. Why is he feeling cold? No. Why am I warm?
Suppressing the thought, he walked up to Tyr, standing above him. It is only wise to pretend he was tormented by the unkind weather too. Anything different of himself will bring nothing but more gossip and even more unwanted assumptions back in Asgard.
He sighed and crouched down. "Make room. I'm beginning to freeze," He tried to act like he was, though. But Tyr didn't even look up at him. He scooted over, leaving a little cave like space of the thick furs open for the prince to fit in perfectly.
Loki hesitated at first. He expected Tyr to suggest some other ideas. Not obey him immediately. Without a word, he slid into the small gap, trying to maintain some distance between them, but there happened to be none.
Tyr only tugged the furs closer. "It seems like you'll die of the cold before we even reach Asgard, General..." Loki didn't look at Tyr. He felt the older man's discomfort and writhing just by the way his breath started to turn ragged. "Worry not, my prince. It'll take some while to get used to this frost and we'll be fine by then," Tyr forced out a smile. He was already wearing enough warm clothes; layers of animal fur around him, yet he was pale.
"But you..." Tyr rasped, "you don't seem to be freezing, as you stated. At least unlike myself," The commander finally looked at the prince. And no, he wasn't shaking. Loki chuckled low. "I must have a warm body temperature, I suppose," Silence fell after that, filling the space between them.
Loki cleared his throat, "Is that all the clothes you've brought here?" He looked at Tyr's hunched form that wore cloaks on cloaks and animal fur above it all. Tyr only nodded, seemingly a little sleepy. "Yes, but I'm still feeling like I'm covered in snow," He hesitated for a heartbeat. "But you don't even seem bothered at all, young prince..."
At this point, Loki had understood what was in Tyr's mind. He scooted a little closer, allowing the radiations of his body heat to reach the commander. "Aye," His eyes lowered themselves onto the floor by some strange instinct. "It's already dark. We should rest to at least look presentable tomorrow," His dark hair fell onto his forehead in loose strands and Tyr felt his goddamned hand twitch.
"I will take my rest on the chair, my prince." Tyr tried to stand but Loki only grabbed his wrist, stilling the older man. He turned to meet Loki's stern gaze. "And you will be a huge popsicle by dawn, I suppose," His lips twitched into a half smirk. Tyr only looked at him, unable to find an answer. "Come now, General. I will not stab you, of course," Loki had now shifted himself and the entire sets of fur onto the huge mattress.
Tyr bore his gaze through the window, noticing one of the moons of Jotunheimr peeking through clouds. It was almost midnight. If he could rest his sore muscles it was the only allowed time.
With every bit of hesitation, he too slid onto the cot. "I thank you for your generosity, my prince," He fitted himself next to the little male, finding warmth once again inside the fur palace. But this warmth was different, however. Loki wasn't at a distance, no. Their shoulders were actually brushing and the commander could feel the heat radiating from his prince.
Loki didn't seem to mind anything. He looked tired, though. "Save it," And with that, the next thing Tyr felt was a weight on his shoulder. Loki had drifted off into dreamland and for the rest of the night, Tyr didn't move a muscle.
And he obviously couldn't stop smiling too.