Chapter Text
It had been nearly half a century since that day.
The one day that Loki was there, then he wasn’t.
No note. No message. Nothing.
Thor had once held on to hope that this was all one elaborate prank by his trickster brother, but as one year passed, two years passed, and fifty years passed...
No one had seen him leave nor come back. Heimdall himself was unable to detect the prince. It was as though Loki had vanished off the face of the galaxy.
If this were truly a hoax, it were a cruel one, Thor thought, as he glanced sadly at the empty chair by the table, sitting there innocuously as though nothing had changed.
“Thor,” Odin said, his voice weary, “I believe it is time for you to ascend to the throne.”
Thor turned around quickly looked at his father in surprise. “You said that we would wait for Loki!” he said, panic instantly surging within him. “Did you hear something? Is he found? Or is he...” He could not bear to finish the sentence.
“Your father thinks that we should give up waiting, and carry out his funeral,” Frigga said, her voice calm, but Thor felt that he might have imagined a slight tremor and bitterness in her tone. “Fifty years have been long enough, he says,” she added, this time not bothering to conceal her glare at her husband.
“It’s not that!” Odin snapped defensively, “Why do you always twist my words so?”
“Then what is this? Which father would cease searching for his son just because a mere fifty years had passed?” Frigga said, slamming her cutlery on the gold table.
Odin looked at her sharply. “Don’t you doubt my love for him! If he had wanted to come back, he would have done so long ago! He is the one who has deserted us, Frigga!”
“Loki would never just leave us for no reason! We’re his family! Something must have happened to him!”
“If something had truly held him back, for so long, I fear he must be dead,” Odin said, slouching back onto his seat. Frigga opened her mouth to retort but abruptly, she lost the fight within her and returned to blankly spooning her food.
Thor kept his eyes on his plate and said nothing, as usual.
It was a lonely day.
As usual.
---
“Congratulations, my prince! Or should I say, my king?” Fandral said with a splitting grin on his face as he gave Thor a sweeping bow.
“We heard the news,” Sif said breathlessly, her eyes bright, “King Thor. It has a nice ring to it.”
“Thank you, my friends,” Thor said, a small smile breaking across his morose features. Sif frowned.
“Is something wrong? You seem... off.”
The smile wiped from Thor’s face instantly. “Father is giving up the search for him. He... He’s gonna give him a funeral.”
Sif and the Warriors Three exchanged glances. They knew who he was talking about, of course. Who else? Ever since... that day, the royal family had never been the same. Thor himself had become a moping mess. Still is a moping mess, only slightly better now.
“Thor,” Volstagg said hesitantly, “It’s been fifty years.”
Thor glared at him. “Not you too! He’s my brother!” he snapped, blazing with fury, “I-”
“You can’t wait for him forever,” Hogun said bluntly, shaking his head. Sif quickly elbowed him in the gut as Thor spun around angrily.
“What Hogun means,” she interrupted, “is that Loki probably doesn’t want to come back, if he hasn’t returned for so long.”
“And why would he have reason not to return to his home?” Thor growled.
“You know... he was different. He didn’t really fit in with Asgard. Maybe that’s why he left,” Sif said as gently as possible.
Thor’s fury melted away and was replaced by a kicked puppy. “But why would he do that to me?” he whispered, suddenly lost. “I miss him. So much.”
“I know what can help you, laddie,” Volstagg said kindly, “Let’s head out to the city today! Get a drink or so!”
“No,” Thor snapped, “I’m not in the mood for merrymaking.”
“It’s about time you stepped out,” Fandral chirped, “You need all the fresh air you can get! And maybe a jug of mead or two!”
---
“Friends,” Thor moaned, chugging down another jug of mead. “How could Loki be so selfish?”
“He was always the trickster,” Volstagg said, rising to his feet shakily. “Another!”
“Loki!” Thor wailed, slamming his jug on the table violently. He looked up at the bartender, who raised an eyebrow at his antics and pursed his lips grimly. “Brother?” he murmured, staggering forward.
“Thor!” Sif said sharply, pulling her friend back and attempting to wrestle him back to his seat. But Thor kept stumbling towards the bartender, calling out for his brother. She smiled awkwardly at the man. “Sorry about that. The prince is a bit drunk.”
“I’m not drunk!” Thor snapped, breaking free of his grip. He lunged towards the bartender, who stood there frozen. “Loki! Why aren’t you coming home? I miss you so much!”
“No, you’re definitely drunk,” Sif said urgently, turning back to her table for backup. Unfortunately, the Warriors Three had all passed out on the tables.
Thor was now pulling the bartender into a bone-crushing hug, mussing up the bartender’s gelled blond hair. “Brother,” he shouted loudly, before starting to wail into the man’s shoulder.
“Oh dear,” Sif murmured. “Heimdall, it’s not amiss for a little help here!” she yelled up to the sky. She looked at her friend who was now a sobbing mess, desperately clutching at the man. She rushed forward and hissed in his ear, “Thor. Listen. That’s not Loki. Loki’s gone.”
“Nonsense!” Thor blustered, before returning to his hug.
Sif looked around for help desperately. The other Aesir at the bar were either deeply inebriated or just standing there watching the show. “Heimdall, faster,” she muttered quickly.
Sure enough, the door flew open. To her surprise, it was not her brother. Nor was it an attendant sent to pick up the drunk prince. It was the Queen.
The Aesir who were still sober all stared at her in surprise, before they gradually started to bow. It had been ages since they had seen the Queen outside of perfunctory events. She only had eyes for her son, and hurried over. Thor was now muttering incoherently.
“M-my Queen,” Sif stammered in surprise, before catching herself and bowing. “Thor is mistaking the bartender for Loki and won’t let go.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Frigga replied, looking at her son sadly. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thor? Let’s go home,” she said softly, and Thor let go of his vice like grip, as though waking up from a spell.
“Mother?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes, it’s me,” she replied, “Let’s return to the palace.”
“But...” he said, turning to look at the bartender, whose face was pallid and his jaw was dropped in shock.
“He’ll follow us later,” Frigga said, and Thor nodded blearily. Sif took it as her cue to quickly lead the prince out of the bar. Thankfully, this time he followed, without much resistance.
Frigga turned to the bartender. “I am so sorry about this,” she said sadly, “My son is grieving.”
“I understand,” the man said shakily, meeting her eyes. Frigga gasped. For a second she thought... no. How could it be? His eyes were a dark glittering brown, not her son’s pale green eyes. But... for one moment, just one quick blinding moment... She thought she saw Loki.
“He... he usually isn’t like that,” Frigga said quietly, trying to hide the frenzy which ran wild within her. “H-he just...”
“I know,” the man said gently, and his voice was not Loki’s low timbre. But she could almost imagine her son saying it, no, remember him saying it, every single time she tried to excuse Odin’s indifference...
“I-it’s just been too long,” she found herself saying, and she knew how strange it must look to the rest of the Aesir in the bar, to see the Queen striking a conversation with the bartender. But something willed her to stay.
“Yes,” he replied, and Frigga thought she could detect something in his voice break within that single syllable. She swallowed that thought back. She could not make the same mistake as Thor; he had already embarrassed the bartender enough for a day.
“I miss him too,” she simply said, but she could not hide that note of despair in her voice. How could she, when all of her was made of hopelessness? To wish so painfully for her son so much that she began projecting his likeliness onto others?
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes still not looking away from her face as though it were drinking her features in deeply. Frigga shook her head. Her delusions were becoming more serious. She should not lose her mind to anguish. She was the Queen of Asgard. She left the bar, but not before turning to look at his face again.
She never saw that man again.