Prince Fjolnir, yes... remember him? Settled, eventually, into his throne. He'd worn a Midguardian inspired suit to show solidarity with his newly discovered half-sister. Or because Vernal Asgard was now a home for both Asgardians and Midguardians. Or he just wanted to torment Freyr with constant reminders of his failures... Fjolnir welcomed you to take your pick.
His throne was placed several feet back from his father's and step-mother's, slightly closer to his aunt's, but right beside his half-sister's. Which seemed a bit premature, didn't it? The God of Bounty thought so. He watched the ginger, who did strike an unnerving resemblance to his deceased mother, when she approached his father.
Fjolnir's shoulders lifted from the chair, through his legs remained crossed when he heard Rhia's words. He then quickly deflated when she'd turned her attention to the young Torben. He'd remained uncharacteristically quiet, throughout this entire ordeal. Which would have been anybody else's clue that the Prince was not-so-secretly furious about this entire affair. Not that Freyr would have noticed...
He forced a loud sigh from his lungs and abandoned his throne, abruptly - to little acknowledgment from the Vanirs. "Where's Orrin?" he questioned loudly with a goblet of wine in his hand. The King's guardsman was normally good for a laugh at Freyr's expense.