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@fantasticfandral
"It’s only 10 and it already feels like we’ve been here forever." He made a face and sat his glass aside, far away. "I can't drink whatever that is anymore."
"Well then, why don't you let me get you something a little... more to your liking?" Fandral asked, leaning on the table. "You can come quietly with me, or we can make a fuss about it, that's up to you."
@glcriouspvrpose
Tension ratcheted through every inch of Fandral's body. It always did when he was slipping in and out of someplace he wasn't meant to be. In his case, at least recently, that meant in Loki's general vicinity. But here he was. Sneaking into his ex-lover's hospital room, practically at one with the shadows, tension coursing through him. Every muscle taut, ready to move in an instant. But he kept still, in the corner of the room, until he felt sure Loki knew he was there. "Hey there, Mischief. Why so... blue?" He smirked and held up his hands in mock surrender. "You have to let me have that one. It's an ice-breaker." This time, he winked and then lowered his hands. "All right, that one went too far. Admittedly, I never did know when to stop. Not when it came to you."
Jane's hand instinctively closed tighter around Eisa's, but her gaze didn't leave his. She knew there was no reason to pretend she didn't know what happened between Fandral and her brother-in-law. She hadn't known them then, but the overbearing overprotectiveness from her husband paired with the way Loki had been dismissive and shutting down was enough. She also knew Loki wanted Eisa nowhere near him, but the way Fandral looked at her let her know he knew exactly who she was. Not that Jane could have played it off if he didn't. Eisa had her father's whole face and the expression she gave him when he knelt down was one hundred percent him. "No. She was going in to see her other dad -- weren't we, sweetheart?" Eisa tore her blue-eyed gaze away from Fandral and looked up at Jane. Leaning down to scoop Eisa up in her other arm and settle her on her hip, she asked, "Are you sure you didn't need anything? Because if you're here for who I think you're here for, it's not going to go well, you know that."
Fandral rose slowly when the Midgardian lifted the girl. She thought herself a queen, but she looked like every other Midgardian to him. Maybe a little prettier, and the gentle but firm ferocity in her voice was attractive. Fandral smiled at her, shrugging his shoulders. "Can't blame the heart for trying, now can we? Thanks for the warning, it was so pleasantly delivered. You're not like those brutish princes, are you?" he teased, running his tongue along his teeth. His eyes flicked back to Eisa. "Bara smá brandari, prinsessa, ég fullvissa þig um það," he promised, crossing a hand over his heart. Just a little joke, princess. I assure you. "Tell me, my dear ladies, will you do this humble gentleman a favor?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Give your daddy a message. Tell him I miss him." He repeated it in Asgardian so she would understand completely, then gave them both a wink.
@hvrculvsx
“I see why you’re single.” Fandral flashed the Olympian a broad, teasing smile that was just a little too sharp. "It's the same reason I am, so don't go getting offended now." He sprawled into the seat beside him, leaning an arm on the table. "We both pine after people caught up in this Midgardian fad. Tragic, really. This ridiculous Midgardian holiday is like salt in the wound if you ask me," he said, gesturing to the paper hearts hanging in the bar.
Loki had just turned the corner when someone grabbed him. He knew who it was before he even saw him, eyes narrowing dangerously when his back hit the wall. He also knew why Fandral had waited in this particular corridor and that brought the green hue to his eyes more than anything else. "You better be glad I'm not king yet, because I swear to the gods -- " Loki brought his hands up to push Fandral off of him, but the last thing he said made him pause. The jab pierced through him, still feeling a feeling he couldn't exactly place whenever anyone brought up his true heritage. But whatever that unreadable, uncomfortable feeling was, it was replaced by the rage that coursed through him. "I brought him here because I can. And because if he agrees, one day soon you'll be answering to that Midgardian from that nothing realm as your superior. If I don't banish your ass for eternity before then." Loki looked at him for a few seconds longer, before he reached up and placed his hands over Fandral's wrists, holding them in a grip of iron as his hands and arms slowly turned that ice cold blue. This time, by his own doing. "And please," he continued, as the temperature around them dropped. "If you think I don't have class now, by all means. Keep going."
Fandral had a remark half out of his lips to that, but then Loki stopped himself. Stared at him. Finally, something had cracked through the ice, that was Loki he had known. He tightened his grip on the leathers. "I'd take banishment over debasement," he sneered, pressing Loki firmer to the wall. He thought his hands would be shoved away, but instead Loki held tight. His skin went blue, and sent a sharp, jagged chill through Fandral's wrists. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, just stared down at the power freezing him, bit by bit. Ice flecks danced across his skin, peeking out from between Loki's grasp. Fandral leaned close, lip turned up in disgust or a sneer or some combination. "I told you," he whispered. "You wanted to touch me." He laughed, that oh-so-charming smile on his face, and he stepped back, releasing Loki's leathers and moving his hands away as far as the blue-grip would let him. "It's one thing to kill a bunch of Midgardians. It's another thing to kill a loyal servant of the realm. Commonfolk love me, you know, they sing songs about me. Be a real shame if they got whipped into some kinda frenzy over my death."
@glcriouspvrpose sent 💢to start a fight
"I have been patient," Fandral hissed, as Loki's shoulder hit the stone wall. This crevice, tucked behind this corner out of sight of palace guards, had always been one of their favorites. A thousand memories came flooding back to him, coursed through him like lightning, made him tighten his grip on Loki's leathers. His eyes burned, shining with fury. "I even let you throw a fit back on that nothing-realm because none of it matters. Fine, get it out of your system, work out whatever you need. I gave you that." He leaned in close now, not touching him, not technically, oh he'd follow that rule and still remind Loki what they had. Who he was. "But then you bring him here?" Fandral scoffed, sneering. "I mean, really? I knew frost giants had no class, but I thought you were the exception."
The crowd didn't faze her. Some of the people were workers. Others tourists. And some were the Asgardian guards the queen had sent, blending in seamlessly with the New Yorkers around them. The only reason she was paying more attention that morning now was due to the little girl at her side, clutching her hand tight like a lifeline. Ever since what happened at the wedding, whenever Loki left, Eisa became more clingy than usual. Now it was worse than normally because Loki and Thor were both gone for the day. "Only on a normal day," was Jane's automatic response as she walked by, but then she looked up to see who had actually said that. "Oh. Fandral. Hi." She took a subtle step in front of her niece and smiled at him, actually wanting to do a dozen other things that might get her kicked off the property despite being married to an Avenger. "Thor's not here if that's who you're looking for."
"I see Mischief's stories proceed me. Ah well, he was always quite the orator." The casual banter was easy, but a singular thought rang through and dominated his real thoughts.'There she was. Fandral's eyes narrowed in their direction, and he never once looked directly at the little girl. He kept his gaze on Jane's face, but occasionally he'd glance at a reflective window, or his eyes would look over her shoulder and follow the trail of their footsteps in the snow. Staring at those impossibly small steps. "I usually get a warmer greeting from a pretty face," he teased. He stepped back when she stepped forward, playing along as if he understood her concern. "What a pity. I was hoping to see him, since Mischief is still having his little tantrum. After all, I am here to serve my princes. My future kings -- and their queens, of course." Only now did he look down, smiling at the only part of Eisa he could actually see. A hand clutching Jane's, a mess of blonde curls. A curious blue eye that looked so like her father's. "And of course, I'd be no knight if I didn't promise to serve the princess of the realm," he drawled, falling to one knee despite the snow. "Can I help you today, little one?"
"Isn't this just something else?" Fandral's voice was sickly sweet as he pushed his way to the front. Avengers Tower always had a little crowd outside, and he was trying to blend in with the rabble. Just to see, get a sense of the atmosphere around this place. "Is it always this crowded?" he asked aloud, wondering if one of the little mortals would answer him.
He knew Fandral was putting on an act, and that only made the green hue in his eyes more intense. Again, he didn't even flinch when his brother's hammer flew past him, far used to that sort of thing by now. Loki tilted his head to the side. "I'm not calling my brother to do anything," he said calmly, after a moment. Loki reached up to take Mjolnir by the handle and pressed it even more against Fandral's chest. "I told you I'd take of you myself. And I wouldn't regret it at all. I'd enjoy every slow and painful second of it, actually." He held it there for a few seconds longer, before he pulled the hammer back back, keeping it in his grip. Loki held his gaze and continued, "You have somewhere you need to be, don't you?"
Oh isn't that interesting, Fandral thought , looking up at Loki. No more sneaking around and coveting from the shadows for you -- good on you, Mischief. There was a bruise on his chest and an ache that went so much deeper and a fury that was rushing over both wounds like a salve, and that let him pretend none of this mattered. "Yeah. Yeah. Somewhere important." He stood up slowly, used what was left of the wall to support himself. "You can pretend that this is you," he said suddenly, unable to stop himself. The fury was bubbling to the surface. "That you're better off or whatever the hell you think this is," he said, gesturing towards the prince without touching him. "But I know the truth, Mischief. And I think you do too." Except maybe he was too distracted these days. Fandral's mind flitted back to the picture, but his eyes remained on Loki's green-glowing gaze. "Hope you feel better," he sneered, swiping a hand across his nose to check for blood. Then he pushed off the wall and slunk away, still brushing plaster off his shoulder all the way down the hall.
Loki's eyes narrowed at his outburst, because he hadn't said any of that. Which meant Fandral came in knowing everything he needed to and that really wasn't a surprise. He laughed, humorlessly, when Fandral told him he defend him, like he really believed that. He didn't move, holding his ground, when he leaned in closer, He only reacted when a hand came up to his neck. The action immediately brought a dangerous green hue to Loki's eyes and Fandral was sent across the room and against the adjacent wall a second later. "Well, if you're going to try and use who I am for your benefit, let's talk about it — because I am a prince. I am a god. And I am the king and queen's son, so you need to learn your place." The green sparks danced a long his fingertips mirroring the lightning across his brother's. He let his magic tighten around Fandral's neck for a moment as he said, tone low and threatening, "It's honestly a shame you'll never be half the man that mortal Midgardan is." He released the magic's hold and nodded to the door. "Get out."
Fandral recognized the magic, but he had never felt it before. Not like this. Since when did his Loki do something like this? To him? After everything they'd been through? Why didn't he understand, they were going to get through this and they were going to go back to the way things were, the way they were meant to be. Maybe Loki just needed a little reminder.
The threats rolled off him, but he knew he just how to look sullen and afraid enough to make both look real. But the fear wasn't at least, not until he went to lean up and heard a loud crash. Then he found himself staring at a wood-covered and very familiar hammer. Mjolnir, which had burst through the desk drawer to get to him. It pressed against his chest, pushing down, down, down. "I would love to, Mischief," he gasped, teeth gritted. "But your little guardian angel has other plans." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Listen," he muttered, raising his hands. "We're gonna call this a misunderstanding. Because you're sick and all, you're not in control of your actions. Now call Thor to get this thing off me. Before you do something you'll actually regret."
"Always," was his automatic response, tucking the file under his arm. Rafael was about to say something else, but the mention of the now too-familiar realm made him turn around to look at him. "What the hell is Odin doing? Sending you guys down for a foreign exchange program?" He considered him for a moment, before asking, "So who are you? Cupid or Hades or some shit?"
"Cupid, ha! That's funny. Ironic," he said, scrunching up his nose. He held out a hand, knowing it was a Midgardian greeting. "Fandral. Son of no one that important, much more impressive all on my own," he said, smirking lightly. "Just following the example of my royal princes and looking to do a little good for the lesser realms," he said, shrugging. "Don't tell me you don't want more firepower on your side? I'll be on my very best behavior, I assure you."
Loki tightened his jaw at the remark about Eisa, but outwardly, he remained cool and composed, deliberately unresponsive. No other reaction, because he knew that's what he wanted. And maybe he didn't see all of the red flags before — but he hadn't been looking. Now he wasn't the same person Fandral had left behind long before Loki actually left. "It is," Loki replied calmly, his demeanor exuding the calm, regal sharpness of a king. "It is pointless. Because I am with someone. There's nothing to think about. I'm not distracted" Standing up from his desk, he slowly moved around it. "You pushed, you pulled, and we're not rekindling anything." Loki inclined his head downward, seemingly contemplating Fandral for a moment. "Did you ever inquire about my activities since coming down here? Mind control aside, the power was all mine." Seating himself on the edge of his desk, Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously as he continued, "Try to lay a hand on me again and you'll be number 81."
"You're with a mortal. A Midgardian!" Fandral shouted, throwing up his hands. "Do you really think something like that will last? With someone like you on the other end?" He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You're a prince, Loki. You're a god. He's not." Fandral took a step forward when Loki sat down, boxing him in even as his little prince made his little threats. "I didn't need to. I know you, Mischief. You're too pretty to be a real traitor." He said it softly, sweetly, and there was no lie in his voice. It was all the truth. "I never believed it was you, ya know. I defended you." Fandral's arms were long enough to rest on the desk on either side of Loki, and he leaned over him now. "You sure that's what you want?" he asked. "Because you were never good at knowing what you wanted, were you?" And just like that, his hands shot out, grabbed Loki gently by the throat, tilting his chin up. He leaned down, bringing their faces close. "You need someone to guide you in the right direction, hjartkær." His hold was feather-soft, tender as a first-time lover. "Go ahead and kill me then. Because I'd rather die than never be allowed to touch you again."
Loki narrowed his eyes a bit, not sure where Fandral thought he was going with that statement. He was about to question him on it, but his line of sight followed the other man's. To the picture of Eisa, her bright blue eyes staring back at him. Aside from the blonde hair, everything else about her appearance was one hundred percent him. He let out a breath, not bothering to flip the picture over like he could have. Instead, he looked back at his ex. "I'm seeing someone. So whatever you're trying to do right now is pointless."
"She's cute," Fandral commented, stepping forward. His fingers snatched up the photo before Loki could stop him (with anything other than magic or a certain persuasion). He held it delicately, a small smile on his face. "Looks like you, Mischief. Bet she's a real handful." Slowly, his eyes came up to meet Loki's piercing blue ones. It occurred to Fandral that maybe he should've known. There was always something frosty about his pretty little prince. "Is it?" he asked, setting the picture down carefully. "Doesn't feel that way from here. Besides, I'm not trying to do anything." The cheshire cat grin on his face betrayed him, but he liked to think it was endearing. Coyly, he slid his fingers along the desk, moving until he stood directly in front of his prince. "I think you forgot how things go with us, Mischief. We push and we pull, but we always end up together. Why don't you try to think about that." His voice slipped a little, the petulance too sharp, too dark, to be playful. He wanted it to sound playful, even if he was deadly serious. His eyes flicked back to the picture, sitting slightly out of place and tilted at a new angle. "Maybe you've got some distractions now," he said, shrugging and turning back. "But I think you remember a lot more than you let on. After all, why else won't you let me touch you?" he whispered, reaching out a hand. He ghosted his fingertips along Loki's chin without actually touching at all. Following the letter of the law his prince laid down, while dancing on the knife's edge, pushing him right to the edge. That's where he liked Loki best. "Afraid you might like it still? You used to love it when I touched you."
Loki let out a breath when he heard his voice. He looked up from the file he'd been reading, eyeing the container he'd brought in. "Quite the opposite, I'm afraid. It crumbled very nicely in my big brother's hand. Thor says hello, by the way. You should pay him a visit. I'm sure he'd love it."" He tossed it aside and leaned back in his chair, gaze meeting Fandral's. "You're aware this is getting you nowhere, yes?"
Fandral waved off the mention of Thor, like the image of his spine snapping in the prince's hand didn't haunt his dreams regularly. But that problem would solve itself once Loki stopped fooling around. Once Mischief was back in his arms, all would be forgiven. "So you keep saying, and yet --" He wasn't sure where that sentence was leading, or what he planned on saying. It didn't matter when his voice cut off sudden and violent. His eyes, still wandering around the office, had snagged on a picture. Caught like a balloon on a barbed wire fence, tearing pieces of him away when he looked back to Loki. "Who... Is that?"
“Whatever you’re going on about better be worth my time is all I’m saying.” He nodded to his office door. "At least shut that so no one else knows I'm in here."
"You're a cheery one," Fandral quipped. Nothing in his voice betrayed the genuine ire he felt, he sounded casually aloof just like he wanted to. But there was something about this man immediately that made his hackles rise. "Actually," he said, smirking while doing as he was told and shutting the door. "I waa hoping you could tell me how one gets a job here. Is there an Asgard-to-Midgard intro program somewhere?"
@glcriouspvrpose
"Oh Mischief," Fandral drawled, coming around the corner. "I heard you were under the weather, so I brought you some soup. I know it's not quite as impressive as my last gift, but..." His eyes gleamed brightly as he set the take-out container on Loki's desk. "I wouldn't want to spoil you too much," he said, winking. He glanced around the office. "Keeping it at home to be safe?"
"Want protection? Or need someone working alongside me for an alibi? Or something along those lines?" Hercules questioned with a tilt of his head. He snorted at the emphasis on prize and leaned back in his seat, drink in hand. Hercules considered the other man for a moment, before nodding. "Alright, Asgard. I'll take you up on it. So, did you have a plan of action before you knew I was down here? Or were you just going to wing it?"
"I'm a bodyguard. You're a diplomat. Or a diplomat's son or whatever. Someone who might have a body that needs guarding," he said, leaning across the table. Stretching out, like a cat just waking up because it smelled nearby prey. "Thanks, Olympus," Fandral said, with another wink. He rested his chin on one hand, elbows on the table. Like the imitation of a bored schoolboy, who's trying a little too hard to get detention. "I'm an opportunist, good at improvising. I rarely don't get what I want, one way or another." He chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. "What about you, Muscles? You have a specific plan?"
