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bifrosting2022-08-29 09:24 pm
odinsson) wrote in bifrosting2022-08-29 09:24 pm
Entry tags:
loki & thor » happy birthday 🥳
As is so often the case with Thor Odinson, the best-laid plans usually go awry.
He embarks on his latest scheme with the best of intentions, and the usual boundless enthusiasm he brings to everything: he fights in battles with gusto, he drinks with gusto, he parties with gusto. And so when the eldest son of King Odin, the favoured prince, decides that he wants another excuse for a banquet, and that he wants to honour his oft-neglected brother Loki, he heaves himself into it without hesitation.
He reserves the banquet hall. He consults with Frigga, asking her to enchant the decorations (although her questioning is gentle and doubtful: “are you sure, Thor, that he’ll enjoy this?” “yes, mother, of course!”). He barges into the kitchens and convinces the servants to cook up a feast, including some of Loki’s favourite desserts. He orders a mountain of mead. And when the day comes, he hauls Loki into the banquet hall, his arm slung around the other god’s narrow shoulders, and the doors slam open to a giant cheering crowd.
“Surprise! Happy birthday, brother! Even after thousands of years, we can still celebrate, no?”
Which Thor does, and merrily.
It starts off well, ish. But then — inevitably — the prince’s focus and attention slides. Most of the guest list is composed of Thor’s social circle, since Loki isn’t tremendously popular at court. Thor mixes and mingles with his own friends, and starts spending more time indulging in a drinking competition with the Warriors Three, turning ever more raucous by the hour. After a while, he turns thoughtless and distracted and doesn’t even notice that Loki has slipped away and vanished—
but somewhere between eating from a giant haunch of boar and enjoying another glass of mead, Thor finally spots his brother lurking on the fringes of the party, and he swoops in. He drapes a sprig of tinsel over the horn of Loki’s helmet, and hands his brother a plate with a slice of cake.
“How are you liking the party?” Thor asks, too loud and cheerful for anyone’s good.
He embarks on his latest scheme with the best of intentions, and the usual boundless enthusiasm he brings to everything: he fights in battles with gusto, he drinks with gusto, he parties with gusto. And so when the eldest son of King Odin, the favoured prince, decides that he wants another excuse for a banquet, and that he wants to honour his oft-neglected brother Loki, he heaves himself into it without hesitation.
He reserves the banquet hall. He consults with Frigga, asking her to enchant the decorations (although her questioning is gentle and doubtful: “are you sure, Thor, that he’ll enjoy this?” “yes, mother, of course!”). He barges into the kitchens and convinces the servants to cook up a feast, including some of Loki’s favourite desserts. He orders a mountain of mead. And when the day comes, he hauls Loki into the banquet hall, his arm slung around the other god’s narrow shoulders, and the doors slam open to a giant cheering crowd.
“Surprise! Happy birthday, brother! Even after thousands of years, we can still celebrate, no?”
Which Thor does, and merrily.
It starts off well, ish. But then — inevitably — the prince’s focus and attention slides. Most of the guest list is composed of Thor’s social circle, since Loki isn’t tremendously popular at court. Thor mixes and mingles with his own friends, and starts spending more time indulging in a drinking competition with the Warriors Three, turning ever more raucous by the hour. After a while, he turns thoughtless and distracted and doesn’t even notice that Loki has slipped away and vanished—
but somewhere between eating from a giant haunch of boar and enjoying another glass of mead, Thor finally spots his brother lurking on the fringes of the party, and he swoops in. He drapes a sprig of tinsel over the horn of Loki’s helmet, and hands his brother a plate with a slice of cake.
“How are you liking the party?” Thor asks, too loud and cheerful for anyone’s good.