Son of the Storm

Let there be chaos

As it turned out, Sirius did not vomit, either in mid air, or when they landed at the far end of the Rainbow Bridge. But it was a very close thing. "Prongs," he mumbled, face green. "That was horrible."

"Pansy. Harry wasn't bothered by it in the slightest. In fact, he enjoyed it," Thor mocked.

"You may be getting old, Prongsie, but as you should have noticed, I'm not your son," Sirius replied testily, gulping in breaths of salty sea air.

"True. He's better looking than you are."

"He looks exactly like you!"

Thor smirked. "Precisely."

Sirius provided him with a rude hand gesture. "Why did we stop here, anyway?" he asked, straightening up.

"So I could walk you up, and you could have a look 'round Asgard city," Thor said.

Sirius duly looked, and was quickly absorbed. Asgard city, was a study in contrasts. Many of the larger, more important buildings, were indicative of, frankly, higher beings. Made of smooth golden metal, occasionally interspersed with silvery and coppery tones, and ornate, Norse style designs on the doors, all swirling lines and carefully etched runes, trees, warriors and animals. They were smooth in their angles and planes, with not a single visible flaw in their design. These had been designed by people who had long since turned it from a profession into an art. He mentioned this, though not in so many words. "Blimey, Prongs, these buildings are incredible!"

It is rare that Sirius Black is struck by architecture, but with architecture like this, it is not surprising.

Thor chuckled. "Like many things on Asgard, Sirius, architecture is not a profession, it is an art. We live so long, by mortal standards, that we have the time to practice many disciplines. And practice makes perfect."

"So I see," Sirius said, appreciatively eyeing up a few women. Since Thor had discreetly cast several cleaning charms and transfigured Sirius' clothes into respectable black robes, their looks were more thoughtful than disgusted, something partly based on the fact that he was in the presence of, and treated as a friend by, the Mighty Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard.

Thor followed his gaze and politely nodded. The women gasped and giggled, then started talking amongst themselves.

Sirius sighed. "I don't have a bloody chance," he complained.

"No. You're scrawny, you possibly have lice and you like you haven't seen sunlight for a decade," Thor said, then tossed his hair. "Me, on the other hand…"

"Yeah, yeah, you're royalty, a hero and handsome with it," Sirius mock grumbled. "No need to rub it in."

"And I have a girlfriend, so I'm not interested. Flattered, but not interested."

"… Could you put in a good word for me?"

"Give it a couple of months of good food and sunbathing. Then I'll consider it. My subjects have to have standards, you know."

"James?"

"Yes?"

"You're a dick sometimes."

"I live with my brother and Tony Stark and have had a millennium of practice. I'd be disappointed if I wasn't."

There was a moment of silence. Then, the two shared a look, and grinned.

"I've missed this, Padfoot."

"So have I, Prongs. So have I."

The walk up to the palace was uneventful. Sirius spent most of his time staring wide eyed at people – particularly women. Some things, Thor thought, did not change – and drinking in the sights and smells, particularly as they walked through a market. Seeing that Sirius was practically drooling and probably hadn't eaten properly for… well, unless you counted Azkaban, about twelve years, Thor briskly led him to some of the stalls.