Chapter 1
The salty smell of seawater was something that Thor could never forget. He never wanted to. Others grew tired of a life at sea, of hauling in nets all day and recasting them each night, but not him. His mouth watered at the sight of seafoam waves crashing against rocky shores, though their was nothing edible about them that he could ever hope to taste. All of his other senses were satisfied though, from the sound of calm waters, to the sight of the bay at dawn. The feel of salt crusting to his skin as he pulled up a net full of wriggling silver fish. Days were long and tiring, but more than worth it. Thor took it as a blessing that he was able to go out on the water each day, while most of his companions considered it a curse.
“Storm’s coming,” Fandral said, looking out on the horizon as they pulled up a net of tuna.
“There’s always a storm coming,” Thor grunted in reply, pulling back the thick rope in his hands.
“It looks bad, I think we should turn in after the next couple of loads.”
Thor stopped pulling for a moment and looked out to see a looming wall of dark grey with darker ocean underneath. But they had only been working for two hours, and he needed enough money to at least buy some dinner. Maybe lunch too, if they were lucky. That meant they needed more fish than the ‘next couple of loads.’
“You’re always skittish. Storms always veer off once they hit the bay. I’m not going to hold of being paid just because you’re scared.” He began pulling at his rope again, slowly lifting the writhing net. Tuna flopped desperately as they sought their blessed saltwater, but Thor had money to make and couldn’t care about the lives of a couple dozen fish.
“How big’s this one?” Volstagg, their resident fish-cleaner, called from the cabin.
“Not too big, maybe thirty,” Thor replied with a bit of frustration.
“The fish’re running. Looks like it might storm.”
Thor growled a few insults under his breath as he put more weight into his work. “It’s not going to hit here so quit complaining about it.”
Fandral hooked the net and gave a hard tug, swinging their catch onto the deck. It was only a fourth full, and the tuna weren’t even that big. Odin wouldn’t be pleased, they’d barely caught anything and it was almost noon.
Thor secured his rope so that the net wouldn’t fall and crossed over to the opposite side of Fandral. On the count of three, they opened the net and their meager catch fell onto the pile of other tuna, some of which were dead, others were still fighting against the inevitable. As they gathered the net up, Hogun appeared form the upper deck, shaking his head.
“Odin says keep the nets in, he doesn’t want them ruined by the storm.”
Fandral gave him a pointed look, but Thor was too busy scowling to notice. Their own boss, scared of a little storm.
“Well you better get this boat moving then, I don’t even have enough coin to buy myself a good lunch,” he called up to Hogun, who gave him an unsympathetic look.
“It isn’t my fault you spent all of your money at the tavern last night.”
“It isn’t my fault we made too little to do anything else with it!” he snapped back, but Hogun disappeared from view, going back to his job as navigator.
It wasn’t long before the waves started to rise, tossing their medium-sized fishing boat around like a toy. They managed to pull up two more pitiful harvests of fish before Hogun turned the boat back to shore. By Thor’s calculations, he’d made enough money for a slab of raw beef and a few tankards of ale—not enough to make him drunk and not enough to make him any less angry.
“Look, even the dolphins are moving out to sea,” Fandral said, elbows propped on the edge of the boat.
Thor stood beside him with his long hair whipping around his face, arms crossed on the ledge. He looked over to the fins sticking out of the water, dipping in and out as the group moved along the surface. A few smaller dolphins were lagging behind, occasionally herded by a watchful parent. Dolphins almost never cared about storms, so perhaps it was bigger than they were anticipating.
“We aren’t supposed to be out here, we waited too long,” Volstagg said, looking up to where the sails were flapping wildly.
“We’ll be back in time,” Thor replied, lowering his head to rest on his arms. The clouds were catching up to them though, and the wind was growing fiercer by the minute. The deckhands were scrambling to adjust the ropes and sails, but the three fisherman didn’t feel like they needed to be doing much of anything—such was their attitude about most work.
A flicker of silver caught Thor’s eye and he looked down to see a massive fish partially concealed by their boat. He leaned over the edge, eyes widening. “Look at the size of that one,” he breathed, and Fandral and Volstagg also leaned over to see.
“What kind is it? I’ve never seen that kind of shape on any fish around here,” Fandral said. The fish’s tail flicked lazily, as if the ocean were calm instead of the rough, frothy mess that it actually was at the moment.
“I don’t know, but it’s big,” Thor replied. “Get the harpoon, maybe we can make some money today after all. “ Any fish that big had to be worth some money, no matter the species.
Volstagg hurried across the deck, knocking aside a few deckhands to grab the harpoon. It was black, with a wicked curve a little ways from the point, perfect for hooking and hauling up a massive prize. Thor held out a hand and grasped the shaft of the weapon, positioning it so that it was headed straight for the massive fish. He held the rope attached the harpoon in his other hand, ready to yank up their kill.
With a mighty thrust of his arm, the harpoon rocketed into the water, plunging straight into the glittering fish. It started to flail as he began to pull, further embedding the harpoon. Dark waves crashed against the boat, spraying saltwater up onto the deck. Thor instinctely shut his eyes, but then another wave crashed into the opposite side of the boat, pitching him forward and throwing him off balance.
The rope flew from his hands and his gut caught the ledge of the boat just long enough for Volstagg to grab him.
“Damn!” Thor cursed, watching as the rope vanished under the water. “Now someone’s gonna find that fish and make all kinds of money, while we’re down a harpoon!”
“Better down a harpoon than a fisherman,” Fandral said, his red-blonde hair soaked and flat to his head. Thor cursed under his breath, but it was swallowed by the sounds of the storm. That had been his chance, his one chance at making enough coin to move onto another boat, one that was bigger and better, more successful. Over the years he’d figured out the places where the fish gathered, keeping them to himself in case he finally made enough money to purchase one of Loki Laufeyson’s infamous fishing boats. Just a small one, for starters, until he caught enough fish to purchase a larger one. So close.
“You’ll get there,” Fandral said, reading his thoughts. Thor sighed, not even caring that the rain and seawater had soaked right through his clothes. He needed a big break because he knew that he’d spend every penny of they money he earned each day, just to be drunk enough to enjoy himself.
“Ah, if it isn’t Thor,” Loki greeted, placing a few ink pens into one of his desk drawers. Before him sat a marvelous drawing of a new ship, with finely curved edges that projected an air of royalty and prestige, though it was just a fishing boat—Thor could tell by the elaborate pulley system he used each day on Odin’s ship. “Have you come to inquire about a boat, or are you just looking?”
Loki asked him the same question each time he came in, knowing full well that Thor was not going to be purchasing anything. He looked out the window to the shipyard, where Hogun was readying the ship for a day out at sea.
“Just a look,” he said. He peered at the drawing, gazing at the beautiful script that marked each and every detail, from the type of wood to the brass handles of the cabin doors. “Who’s that boat for?”
Loki looked puzzled for a moment, then looked back at his drawing. “Oh, this one is for Tyr. It’ll be a decent vessel, so long as it is made by my hands.” He gave a sly smile that always made Thor’s heart skip a beat or two.
“Since when has Tyr been able to afford a boat like that? He barely makes any more than I do,” Thor said, unable to keep quiet.
Loki looked across the room to where his massive wolf-dog lay sprawling in a shaft of sunlight. “I owe him. He lost his hand a few years back thanks to Fenrir.”
The dog’s ears pricked at the sound of its name, but didn’t look up. Thor blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”
“Most don’t. I intend to keep it that way. It as a freak accident, though I should have known better than to allow Tyr to enter the shop without me. Fenrir was startled by the sudden intrusion and,” Loki gestured with his wrist, “things happened. So, as a favor for Tyr, I’m building him a small craft free of charge.”
“Oh,” said Thor, glancing over to Fenrir. The dog was huge, but always friendly whenever he visited. “I see.” Tyr was lucky, Thor would give up his whole arm if Loki made him a boat. A ship made by Loki Laufeyson was expensive just because of his name—for all knew of his skill and his perfectionist nature when it came to building boats. No one could match it, not for miles around. Probably no one in the whole world could make a ship as reliable and as well-crafted as Loki did.
Loki leaned back in his seat, looking up at him with green eyes so vibrant that Thor was sure the color only existed in those two irises. His crush on Loki had begun ages ago, when Loki first took over the shop from his father. It hadn’t been anything special then, but after his first few boats had survived a massive storm that had wrecked many others, people began to clamber for the chance to have one of Loki’s boats. Some even claimed that they were protected by magic. Thor had never asked though, it had taken him years to even muster up the courage to come inside the store, though he was sure Loki had caught him looking into the windows each morning on his way to the shipyard.
When he’d first laid eyes on Loki, he knew he would never want anyone ever again. Loki was slender, but strong. He was proper, elegant, picky, and successful. His very voice was enough to melt Thor into a puddle, and many others as well. Rich women begged their husbands to buy a boat just so they could come and visit Loki, who always treated them with kindness and impressed them with his eloquence. His handwriting was like that of a king, recognizable to everyone who knew him after only a glance. Loki was perfection in every way, yet he had never taken a wife, nor asked a man for his company. Thor was pretty sure he’d never even seen Loki outside of his shop with anyone else. He was solitary, and claimed he always would be because—
“Thor? Does something trouble you?”
Thor snapped back to reality, realizing that he had been standing there gaping at nothing. He shook his head. “No, I’m all right.”
“Are you sure? You seem a bit distracted. Your boat wasn’t damaged by the storm, was it?”
Odin’s boat, he wanted to say. Thor didn’t have a boat. “No, we managed to dock her just when the worst of it hit. We had the furthest post, so I think that saved us.”
Loki smiled softly. “That’s good. I hate to see when men are out of work due to a broken ship.”
Thor nodded once, not meeting Loki’s eye. They never spoke this much to each other, Loki usually left him alone to browse and continued working. Thor sometimes stole a few glances, watching the way Loki’s hands moved about the page and turned a few lines into a magnificent ship within a matter of moments.
“I almost caught a big fish yesterday,” he said suddenly, the words spewing from his mouth before he could stop them.
Loki blinked. “Almost?”
“The storm had already started, so when I threw my harpoon a big wave crashed into us and I nearly went overboard,” he said hurriedly, shifting on his feet.
“How big was it?” Loki asked.
“I only caught sight of half of it, but that half was bigger than any tuna I’ve ever seen. It was probably as big as me, but I don’t know what type it was—“ He noticed that Loki had started drawing again, adding a few notes to his paper. Thor shut his mouth, his cheeks turning slightly pink with embarrassment. Loki wasn’t even listening.
“Go on,” Loki said, turning his gaze to him once more. “I’m listening. I’ve found I can listen better while I’m drawing things—I am sorry if I’ve offended you in some way.”
“Oh, no,” Thor stammered, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “I was just saying that I didn’t know what kind of fish it was. It got away before I could even lift it from the water, so I don’t even know what color it was either. But I bet it was worth a lot…” He trailed off, running his fingers along the wood of one of Loki’s masterfully carved bookshelves, stocked full of almanacs, fishing guides, books about great ships and great sea battles. Some were lined with gold edges and fancy carved curls. Thor didn’t own any books; he barely knew how to read.
“Hmm, perhaps you will find it today while you’re at sea. I assume the fish would not live if it had a harpoon stuck into its side.”
Thor shook his head. “That would be worse, the sharks would have gotten it by now.”
“Not if they went out to sea to escape the storm,” Loki said.
Thor turned around with a weak smile. He didn’t really want to talk about his fish anymore, he didn’t even know if he wanted to talk to Loki anymore. It wasn’t like Loki wanted to be in his company anyway—he had friends in elite social classes, much more sophisticated than a smelly fisherman. “Maybe.”
Then his stomach growled unexpectedly, so loudly that he was sure people outside of the store could hear it. In the quiet stillness of Loki’s study it echoed like an explosion.
Loki turned his head from his drawing board while Thor’s face turned red from embarrassment. He’d decided to spend his time waiting out the storm the night before by drinking, not even bothering to eat anything. That way, he got drunk faster without needing to spend more money.
“Have you eaten today?” Loki asked, stilling his ink pen.
“Of course. I ate a—“ He scrambled to think of something, “—a cabbage.” A cabbage? That was the first thing that came to his mind? A cabbage?
Loki quirked a brow. “That doesn’t sound terribly filling.”
The room grew silent and Thor inwardly begged for Loki not to offer him food—he’d be so ashamed that he would never be able to set foot in the store again.
Thankfully, someone entered. A wealthy-looking man, with a fine suit and a very expensive-looking hat. Loki glanced at Thor, and Thor knew that it was a silent cue for him to leave. He didn’t even say anything before he walked out into the salty early-morning air. When stomach growled again, Thor slammed the butt of his palm against his belly, cursing himself for being such a fool.