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When she entered the throne room, Brunnhilde had expected to leave it in chains, if she left it with her life. She had not at all planned for a scenario in which she walked out under her own power. The surprises continued, for she was met immediately outside it by a stern-featured woman with a miniature Gungnir pinned to her dress beneath her collarbone. The royal secretary. "Brunnhilde Sigursdottir?"

"Yes?" she said apprehensively, eyeing the scroll in the woman's hands. She might go back in to ask Odin for chains if she was expected to do paperwork now. 

"The Allfather has charged me with apprising you of several items of business regarding your return to Asgard," said the woman, unfurling the scroll. 

So Odin had planned for their meeting to end this way all along. Crafty old git.

"Let's hear it, then," said Brunnhilde, resigned. 

"First, there is the matter of your position. Second, your living situation and finances. Third, and most importantly, the legacy of the Valkyrior."

Brunnhilde's stomach turned over. She desperately needed a drink. Food would be a good idea too, but mainly the drink.

"Should you choose to remain on Asgard, you are to retain your title. The Allfather leaves it to you to decide whether to take up your sword again in active service to the throne or retire it with the full honors due one of your rank." 

She paused to look up at Brunnhilde for her reaction. Brunnhilde nodded, swallowing. Satisfied, she continued to read.

"You will have access to the vault of the House of Sigurd." Here, Brunnhilde nearly snorted. Saying it that way made it sound like her family had been swimming in gold, not merely comfortably well off between her father's wages from the smithy and the stipend granted to any family of a Valkyrie who died in battle. 

"I have researched a number of appropriate accommodations currently vacant, some in the city, some in the countryside—though, if you prefer, you may return to the Aeries instead." 

Brunnhilde could not imagine anything less appealing. The last time she was on Asgard, the barracks of the Valkyrior had been bursting with life, from the song and laughter and the smell of good food in the main hall to the shouts of children running around in the family quarters to the clash of weapons in the training grounds to the whinnies and beating of wings in the stables. 

A vivid memory accosted her, of walking with Solveig to the stables, carrying apples and bags of oats for Svinnavoengr and Gisl. She could picture the exact way the sunlight had danced in Solveig's golden hair. The next instant, she was watching Solveig jump in front of a black blade. She forced the image away.

 If she did stay on Asgard (a terrible idea, and one she was not remotely settled on), she was going to have to visit the place at least once, but she didn't think she could ever live there again. 

"You may look through the list at your leisure, and be sure to inform me when you've made a decision," said the royal secretary, seemingly oblivious to the painful emotions her brisk words had evoked. "Now, for the third matter. The Allfather has given you authority over the dispensation of the assets owned by the rest of the Valkyrior, absent surviving family or other heirs." 

She flipped the scroll around and ran her finger down a column of runes that detailed the aforementioned assets. Brunnhilde was stunned. She and her shield-sisters had, for the most part, lived modestly, but the collective sum was considerable. She couldn't imagine what had kept all of it from reverting back to the throne in all this time, unless it was down to sheer gulit on Odin's part.

"If you accept this responsibility," the secretary continued, "your options will be as follows." She numbered them off on her fingers. "You may convert the monies into a scholarship for youths who lack the funds to attend Asgard's more prestigious universities. You may use them to sponsor the careers of the children of other Valkyrior." Many of them would be young adults now, and most were nowhere near the noble class. The secretary held up a third finger. "Finally, you may use them to fund the reestablishing of the Valkyrior."

Any doubt Brunnhilde might've had about which course Odin preferred was firmly erased when the woman added that if she chose the third, the resources she put forward would be met with equal support from the throne. Perhaps greater, depending on what the Council thought of the idea. 

Not wanting to deal with any of this until she absolutely had to, she muttered a gruff thanks, took the scroll, and headed straight back to the armory. Remaining in the blue and whites was going to give her a higher profile than she wanted. However, her black leathers were not where she'd left them. Frowning, she turned to the Master of Arms. "Oi, what'd you do with my armor?"

"Those foul scraps?" he scoffed. "I burned them." He didn't seem the least bit sorry. "Will you be needing anything else?"

She groaned and walked right back out. So much for avoiding the attention of every single person she met. 

She could have left the palace then, but something made her want to delay that moment. It would add a sense of finality to being on Asgard again, and she wasn't ready to face it. Her feet soon carried her back to the healing hall. 

X

"It's so strange," said Sif after a moment of amicable silence. "Asgard hasn't had any interactions with Jotunheim in centuries, and now, mere weeks after they try to infiltrate Gladsheim, we learn that Loki is Jotun."

Though she clearly meant it as a lighthearted observation, Thor's stomach dropped. 

It must've shown on his face, because Sif noticed. "What?" she said.

He hesitated, but it occurred to him that while Sif hadn't registered it as more than an odd coincidence, others would likely be more shrewd and draw the correct conclusions for very wrong reasons. He should have recognized how damning the timing looked, but these events were eight years old to him and fairly trivial compared to everything else that had happened, so it had slipped his mind. Deliberately hiding it now wasn't going to do any good. "Loki was the one who showed the Jotnar the way to the Vault," he said.

"What?" said Sif, horrified. "But that...that's treason!"

"It would be," said Thor, "if he'd done it on Jotunheim's behalf, against the best interests of Asgard." 

Sif frowned. "What other reason could anyone have for helping Frost Giants reach the Allfather's Vault?"

"He didn't think I was fit to be king, so he worked out a way to disrupt my coronation and expose my shortcomings. His motivations were entirely just, if not his methods. His loyalty was always to Asgard." Even when that loyalty seemed to go in one direction, it never completely failed him.

"But you were only going to be regent," said Sif. "Did he truly have that little faith in you, that he couldn't let you sit on the throne for even the space of an Odinsleep?" 

"He knew my idea of what it was to be king better than anyone. Despite all Father had ever taught us, I wasn't thinking of tending to the everyday needs of the people, of negotiating with existing allies or seeking new ones. I only imagined myself at the head of Asgard's armies, leading the charge in glorious battle. Not that I would have been fit even for that much authority. I nearly got you, the Warriors Three, and Loki all killed when I led us to Jotunheim and picked a fight in the middle of Laufey's court."

Sif bit her lip. "You don't think he was simply jealous? If he thought you so ill-suited to the throne, perhaps he believed he could do better."

"I asked him if I should suggest as much to Father after I came back in time. He said that just because I finally understood how heavy my responsibilities are, it didn't mean I could shove them onto him. He doesn't want it, Sif."

She nodded slowly. "You've given me so much to think on."

Thor smiled. "Not the usual outcome of a conversation with me, is it?"

She rolled her eyes, but returned the smile and hopped down off the balustrade. "Will you join me? I'm going to meet with the Warriors Three for a little food and drink to celebrate our victory on Sakaar before the official festivities."

"I would, and I thank you," said Thor with regret, standing up straight. It sounded wonderful. "But there are too many plans to make and guests to attend to." 

X

Loki's efforts to persuade Eir to release him this evening had failed. He knew better than to attempt to slip out and leave a projection in his place, so he tried to content himself with the food that had been sent up from the kitchens on Thor's request and one of the books he kept within easy reach in his dimensional pocket. He'd drawn back the heavy curtains now that night had fallen. The light from the stars was bright enough that he could have read by it with Aesir eyes, but he hadn't changed back yet. Eir thought it best to completely finish healing before doing any shapeshifting.

"You're lucky."

Loki raised an eyebrow at his guest and vanished the book. The old Valkyrie livery didn't quite match modern armor styles, but Brunnhilde was striking in it all the same. If she hadn't already seen him at his very worst, he'd feel more uncomfortable about his current state of dress and his unruly hair. "Why is that?"

"I have enough self-restraint not to break a man's jaw while he's lying in a sickbed." She walked closer and stole the remaining roll off the platter beside his cot.

"Have I done something to offend you?"

She gave him a flat look while she began tearing pieces off the roll, dipping them in the small jar of honey, and eating them.

He gave up the pretense of not knowing what she meant. "You didn't seem too bothered by the prospect of being hauled off to Thanos. Is Asgard so much worse than that?"

"If Maw had left Sakaar with us, that wouldn't have been me leaving under my own power."

"Then I fail to see the problem," said Loki. "You didn't leave under your own power. I kidnapped you."

"Yes, a dying man who needed me to hold him on his feet kidnapped me back to my home world. Very convincing." She stuffed the rest of the roll into her mouth and reached for his flagon of cider to wash it down. Her table manners were about as good as Volstagg's.

"Who must you convince?" said Loki, narrowing his eyes. He was getting closer to what she was hiding now. He could feel it. "I can be very persuasive if you need me to be." Heat rose in his cheeks and he immediately wished he hadn't been so candid, but her eyes softened.

"Still trying to save me, your highness?"

"One of us should." 

She set the flagon down and turned away, facing the window and the stunning view of the city it offered. There was a long silence. He waited, watching her. He noticed the scroll tied at her hip. So she'd already met with Father, and it must have gone well. 

"I never thought I'd see this place again."

At the risk of forfeiting his sickbed immunity from violence on her part, Loki ignored the soreness in his limbs and what remained of his wounds and pushed himself up off the cot to join her by the window. 

"Did you miss it?"

She snorted. "Miss it? I tried to forget it," she said. "But sometimes…"

"What?"

"Sometimes I dreamed of racing above the tops of the buildings with Svinnavoengr."

There was pain in her voice. Loki had read of the bonds the Valkyrior shared with their winged mounts. It wasn't merely skill in battle that had made them the most elite force in Asgard's armies. 

"Tell me who you need saving from, Brunnhilde," he said, catching her hands in his. "Please."

"Your words can't help me, Silvertongue," she said. "Nothing can. If I had any sense, I'd go straight back to Sakaar. The way time flows there, it might be like I never left."

"Why don't you, then?" said Loki. 

She looked up into his eyes, before her gaze flitted to his lips. Everything stretched out, like the moment of suspended animation that comes between the leap and the fall. He leaned down and kissed her.

X

Sif could've gone straight to the feast hall to meet Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg, but she had set out to wish Loki well and dammit, she was going to follow through on that. She hoped that seeing him in person would help everything she and Thor had discussed settle into place. She also hoped that Loki wouldn't make her regret it. He had a tendency to mistrust well-wishes, always looking for ulterior motives. 

One of the apprentice healers pointed her to Loki's room, and she marched right to the door. She opened it quietly in case Loki was asleep and slipped inside, then froze. Silhouetted against a breathtaking view of the evening sky were Loki, still in Jotun form, and none other than Commander Brunnhilde Sigursdottir, dressed in full Valkyrie armor, hair done in battle braids. They were kissing passionately, Brunnhilde's fingers buried in Loki's black curls, his arms tight around her waist.

Sif let out a squeak of utter bewilderment, and the second prince and the last Valkyrie jumped apart.

"What the Hel!" said Brunnhilde. "Don't you knock? What are you doing here?"

"I, er, just came to wish Loki well," said Sif, staring from one of them to the other. She wanted to sink into the floor. When had this happened? She'd stumbled across Fandral in such a compromising position more times than she could count, including once just last week with the mortal maiden, but never Loki. And now she'd made a nuisance of herself to the woman she idolized. 

"Thank you, Sif, I am very well," said Loki loudly, "and your timing is only marginally less dreadful than my brother's."

"I'm so sorry," said Sif. "I'll go."

"Why bother?" said Brunnhilde. "We aren't getting that moment back, and I'm starving." 

Loki ran a hand over his face. 

"Oh, w-well I was just about to head to the feast hall anyway," said Sif.

"Can I get drunk there?" said Brunnhilde.

"Of—course?"

"Good. I'll go with you."