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Stitches

It had taken every trick in Loki's considerable repertoire to arrive in Asgard ahead of Brokk and Eitri. As he strode down the halls toward his Odin's throne room, he tucked his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He fought to control his breathing, to appear calm and in control. The effect was ruined by the tattered state of his coattails, by the wildness of his hair, and the vivid streak of blood that had run from his forehead and past the corner of his eye.

He would explain it, all of it to Father. Well, all that he safely could. Thor's part in the escapade, he would leave out. As much as it gave him pleasure to tweak his brother whenever possible, he owed Thor this one and he would keep his peace. But Father would understand, would no doubt see the cleverness in the plan, would appreciate the gifts he had brought back in addition to the newly-rescued Mjolnir...

The throne room was filled to the point of bursting, though that was not unusual for the day and time. The court turned to look at him, his footfalls loud and hollow, but he told himself that, too, was not unusual.

Then across the crowd of gathered Aesir, he spotted the dark, stumpy forms of the dwarven brothers. His breath caught in his throat with shock, and there was a slight stutter in his step, but otherwise his expression was well-schooled enough to not show his dismay.

Head high, he walked to the steps of the throne and dropped to one knee. "Father, I have won gifts for you, and for the Queen." With a clever movement of his hands he turned the armlet, the golden boar, from the pockets in space he'd used to hide them, and set them on the floor. Mjolnir, he still kept hidden, the titanic weight a strain on his magic that was beginning to make his head pound. He imagined that the dwarves had the common sense to not mention Mjolnir as part of the wager and spoils he had won; surely they must have kept that silent if they were playing for Odin's sympathy.

"Loki." Odin's voice rolled like thunder. It was not the tone that Loki had hoped to hear his name spoken in. "I have been told that you won these gifts dishonorably."

Loki looked up, meeting his father's eye. He saw nothing there but a mirror, that showed a pale but resolute image. "I would beg to differ. I promised them my head, but gave them no leave to touch my neck. It is no fault of mine if the good dwarves did not fully consider the terms."

Brokk cursed him; Eitri grabbed his brother's arm. "We no longer desire his head. We accept your judgment on this matter," the dwarf said.

Loki's eyebrows went up. "Judgment?"

Odin stood. "You have treated friends of Asgard falsely, Loki. It is luck for all of us that they have accepted this, and ask but a pittance in return. The people of other realms might not be so kind." Odin's voice became cold. "Words have as much power as actions, Prince. And you must consider your words, and your wagers more carefully for what they could cause."

Loki bowed his head. "Of course. I understand."

"I don't think that you do." Odin said. Loki looked up sharply to see him wave a guard over. The man held a tray, with a spool of coarse black twine and a needle. "Brokk and Eitri have proposed a punishment I find most fitting. Your words have caused much trouble, Loki. It would be best if you take time to think before speaking so glibly again." The court dissolved in an uproar.

It didn't have to be spelled out any further than that. Loki swallowed hard, but he could also see no path of escape in his father's face. And he refused to beg shamefully in front of the entire court. His head felt strange, light and far away. "I understand."

It was only then that he realized that the noise of the court was not disagreement or protest.

They were laughing.

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Thor tensed under her hand, but didn't pull away. The image of his brother's face filled with pain seemed etched into his memory so that it was all he saw when he closed his eyes and wished for darkness. He breathed in, but it was unsteady still.

"In time, perhaps." When he opened his eyes again, he couldn't meet her gaze. His own was bleak and far away. Thor closed his hand and opened it again, as if unconsciously feeling for the hilt of blade or hammer.

"I am more a fool than a prince, Lady Sif. This needn't have happened - any of this. He is my brother, and with my own hands I have wronged him so deeply I cannot make it right again."

He would not normally have spoken so honestly, but with Loki still bleeding nearby and his strength all used up, he could do nothing else. The healing crystal Sif set on the nightstand caught the light, and he thought of using it while Loki was not awake to protest. Who would pay for that? Loki still, though he had no part in it? Or Sif for bringing the crystal to his aid?

Sif leaned down, wrapping her arms about his shoulders as she tilted her head against his own, giving him a light squeeze. "Thor... no one could have guessed this would happen," she answered softly, wishing there was more comfort she could offer him as well. "You never intended for Loki to get hurt, not like this. Even he knows this." It made her furious with Odin all over again, seeing the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. "He will heal. At least, if your father's intentions were for you to both learn that there are consequences to your actions, it is not a lesson that will ever be forgotten."

Despite her best attempts, she couldn't keep the edge out of her voice, or the tremor that slipped through her as she glanced back at Loki once more.

Thor reached up to grasp her arm, perhaps to remove it gently, because he was still prince and a man besides, and he should not be seeking the comfort of a friend. He deserved to bear the weight of this.

Yet he didn't pull her away. He squeezed her arm lightly. Loki's pain did not seem to less with Sif's arms about his shoulders, but it was an odd sort of feeling. The last time Sif had wrapped her arms around him he'd ended up with a bruised tailbone, her cheerful smirk finding him every time he sat down.

That was the way things ought to be: the weaknesses they found in each other shallow enough to be laughed at until they were trained out. But it was not the way things were, and Thor had always been a man of the present.

"It matters not what I intended." Thor replied bitterly, but the sharpness of his tone was directed inward. Sif seemed to draw him back after that, and he took strength from her before he turned, reaching further behind him. He caught a lock of her dark hair and met her gaze. "Loki knows already that there are consequences to his actions. It is I who did not see I would bring harm to those I would protect with my life."

And then he did shift away from her, but only to stand and reach for the crystal she had brought. Loki's ruined lips seemed to settle it. His mind was made up. "I will speak with father and make him understand." He moved to use the crystal on his brother.

"What Loki knows and what Loki does does not always add up," Sif remarked, but there was no biting edge to her words. She shifted to the side, giving Thor room although she gave him a worried look, concerned over what disobedience might cost him, or Loki. "He should not have wagered what he could not afford to lose. Neither of you should have. That does not mean I agree with... with this. I don't. It was unnecessarily cruel. It was wrong," she added , her fingers clenching momentarily into a fist before she reach out to brush her fingers against Loki's brow once more, as if to reassure herself that he was still alright.

"Are you sure it is safe to do that, my prince?" She asked Thor quietly, watching him as he picked up the healing crystal. "Your father could be most upset with you. I do not wish either of you to find yourselves in more trouble with him. It may be that he would be more lenient on someone not his son, if his command was not heeded. Especially when one is possessed of more... delicate sensibilities of the female gender."

Someone had spouted off that bullshit about her several years ago, foolishly within her hearing. The warrior had never made that mistake again, but that did not mean Sif didn't occasionally pull the female card with it played to her advantage. She prided herself on being an expert at every weapon she wielded.

Thor agreed with the first part, more or less, but he knew that he should remind her again that they had avoided a worse punishment yet. If the dwarfs had attempted to take Loki's head after all, Thor would have taken theirs, and that of every man or woman who tried thereafter. He wasn't quite so foolish as to not know where that would lead.

But seeing Sif's hands clenched in her lap, and the tenderness with which she stroked Loki's brow, he stilled his tongue. He didn't really disagree.

At the question of safety, Thor rolled the crystal in his hand. His hesitance was evidence enough of his thoughts - not that he would change his mind, but that he was truly considering how best to go about this. Acting rashly had always been the cause of their trouble, and Loki's quick mind had often been the solution, but without that Thor could only do his best to see that his brother came to no more harm.

"He asked us not to. Loki can't be punished for something he had no part in, can he?" His voice wavered on the question.

Thor raised his eyebrows at her. If the situation were any less dire, he may have laughed outright. Lethe and graceful, yes, but delicate she was not or neither of them would have quite so many bruises to show for their matches. Still, she had a point. "That may be so. However... You have already broken his command in coming here to aid us, and in bringing this. The Allfather is not so foolish as the rest of the court." He dropped a hand on her shoulder. "I know that you wish to protect us Sif, but you have done too much already. I am prepared to accept whatever punishment he sees fit, so long as it is only I."

And with that he crumbled the crystal over Loki's mouth, hoping the small piece would be enough to undo the worst of it.

She watched him crumble the crystal in his palm, feeling a mixture of worry and relief. "I still do not feel as if I have done enough," she admitted, her voice a breath above a whisper as she watched the skin slowly knit. As if speaking louder might draw the Allfather's attention and wrath down on all of them for their disobedience. That did not mean she regretted her actions - she would do it again, and more, if given the choice.

As the last of the crystal dissolved, she gave a quiet sigh, shoulders relaxing slightly as the magic did its work and the worst of the wounds sealed and much of the bleeding ceased. She retrieved the cloth from earlier, wetting it once more and gently cleaning the blood from Loki's face. She hoped his brew was potent enough that it wouldn't disturb his slumber, but she thought it better to try this now, rather than when it had dried and caked and would tug on the skin.

"Hopefully when he wakes, he will feel a little better," Sif commented softly, taking care as she worked. "Although I imagine he'll be in a black mood for a while."

Loki did not stir as the crystal did its work. He mumbled something incoherent when Sif began to wash the blood from around his mouth. The far-off sensation of cool and wet and his face being moved about a little was enough to make him drag his eyes open again, though if he comprehended anything at all he saw was anyone's guess. There was certainly nothing sharp or even terribly intelligent in his gaze when he looked at her. His eyes rolled up for a moment to favor Thor with a look of equal incomprehension.

After another wordless mumble he fumbled for Sif's hand with both of his. Disregarding the damp cloth she held, he nuzzled her hand for a moment, lips brushing against her palm. Then he dragged her hand down to his chest and cradled it with a surprisingly firm grip. Seemingly satisfied by this, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes again.

Edited 2011-12-21 20:11 (UTC)

Thor nodded a little, watching a she cleaned away the blood with his hands curled at his sides. It looked less horrific with the gore gone and the wounds partly healed beneath, but it would scar still and there was little to be done for that. He didn't carry healing crystals in the halls of his own home.

He tensed as Loki began to stir, but when his brother's eyes met his he saw nothing there but confusion. Perhaps Loki thought he was dreaming. When he took Sif's hand Thor's eyebrows rose again, then drew together, a small frown tugging at his lips. There was a spark of something there he didn't quite understand; mixed relief, surprise, and something sharper that hurt.

Thor folded his arms across his chest and turned to Sif. "Perhaps you should lie with him. I don't think he plans to return your hand to you until he wakes."

Sif was too busy looking bewildered for a moment to register what Thor had said. She blinked down at Loki who had, for all appearances, gone back to sleep after nuzzling and cuddling her hand. As if she were some childhood toy that brought him comfort. Sif wasn't quite sure what to think about that, although she didn't quite have the heart to pull her hand away from him. She did, however, retrieve the damp cloth, dropping it down in the basin to be dealt with later.

When Thor's words did penetrate her confusion, she lifted a startled glance to his face, arching an eyebrow at the look she found there. Some days he made even less sense than Loki. Still, he had a point. She glanced down at Loki and nodded, settling down on the bed once more. "I don't mind staying with him. What will you do, Thor? Will you stay as well?"

Thor hesitated. He should speak with the Allfather sooner rather than later, but he would have other matters to attend to at this hour. Though he planned to stay true to his word, he wasn't terribly eager to seek out an audience when it would be least welcome. And Mjolnir... It would wait. It wasn't as if it could be returned to the vault. He had no real reason to leave.

His own expression was clouded. He didn't know yet how this would change things between he and Loki, and he wished to remain near his brother for as long as Loki would allow it, while at least one of them strayed far from the present. He bore Sif no ill will. He supposed that he would not wish to cling to someone who had tortured him either.

"He will not be eager for my company when he wakes." He replied quietly. He felt weary to the bone, and he knew it had almost nothing to do with the battle earlier in the day. He reached out to brush a stubborn curl from Loki's brow. "Perhaps I will leave before then."

"Let Loki have the choice of that, my prince," Sif stated softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Lay down and rest. At least here you are assured he is alright and that none would disturb him while he recovers. And you look more than worn out. Rest. I can watch over you both in the meantime. None would think to seek you out here either, at the moment," she pointed out.

Sif had the feeling that the moment he ventured beyond the family quarters, he'd be forced to throttle some loose-tongued idiot who made the mistake of congratulating him.

He should let Loki have the choice, shouldn't he? Yet, if there was anything he dreaded more than his confrontation with the Allfather, it was the one with Loki, who he truly would not fight against.

Thor thought to protest. They weren't children anymore, and could not easily make excuses for curling up together when they grew tired. He exhaled heavily instead, gaze shifting from Sif to Loki, then back again. After a moment he moved to the door and locked it soundly before he began to remove his armor. He dropped the pieces in a pile on his cape.

"Very well," Thor murmured. "But now there is no need for you to watch over us. Rest a while, Lady Sif - the bed is large enough, and you may need it when he wakes." There was no telling what his mood would be like, except that it would not be good. And after all, Sif had chosen to let him keep her hand, so perhaps both she and Loki would appreciate the comfort. He wouldn't be opposed to it either.

He pulled the tunic over his shoulders last, feeling lighter yet oddly exposed without his armor, but it wasn't long before he had carefully settled in beside Loki and draped an arm across his brother's waist without really thinking of it.

Edited 2011-12-23 00:38 (UTC)

"Expecting him to be a handful, are you?" Sif remarked softly, a hint of wry humor returning to her tone as she stretched out on Loki's other side, making herself comfortable. Loki still clutched her hand to his chest and that brought a fond smile to her lips as she pillowed her head on her arm, dark braid falling over one of her shoulders.

"I suppose you're right. He's a handful on a normal day," she added, fondness in her voice. "Ah well, he can't be any worse than you after a hard day in the training rings. No one can whine and carry on that badly," she added, attempting to tease at least a small smile from her unnaturally solemn prince. She hated to see him so troubled, even if there was cause. She only hoped Loki wouldn't carry too bad a grudge come morning; she wasn't sure Thor would ever forgive himself as it was.

"You mustn't underestimate Loki." The reply was almost automatic. Thor had settled on his stomach, so the words came out partly muffled by a pillow, but there was no mistaking the fondness in them. He was grateful for the familiarity of Sif's teasing, if not the content - it was something firm, easy and unchanging.

He felt the lightness tugging at him, and he was grateful for the effort. For now, while they were all alone and tired, Thor smiled a little. "It must seem like a great deal of carrying on to you, since I'm unable to make that sour face you have perfected for your frequent defeats. It's the same one you made the first time I beat you with a sword. I still remember it."

"I do try not to," she admitted, her gaze drawn to Loki's face, relaxed in slumber and looking so young and unguarded. It was not a look she was used to; Loki was always so careful in what he let show, even to his closest friends. She always found herself studying him, trying to puzzle out that which was real and that which was a mask.

His comment had her sticking her tongue out at him in a childish expression of familiar fond exasperation. "You always have had an overly vivid imagination and a faulty memory. Besides, it took you three years to beat me with a sword, if I recall," she returned, exaggerating in the friendly banter and rivalry that was so common between them. "I'm fairly certain I threw a party the first time you actually managed to get a hit in."

"It isn't easy." Thor had given up on trying to puzzle his brother out after all these years, and simply accepted the only important truth: that Loki loved him, regardless of what other truths or lies he told, and that would always be constant as the beating of Thor's own heart. Even now, after all of this. His fingers curled lightly in the fabric of Loki's tunic.

Thor's grin widened a fraction, and the short exhale as he closed his eyes may have been the ghost of a laugh. "I think you're remembering the opposite of the truth. But if you would like, I will be happy to bring you back to reality sometime soon."

Edited 2011-12-23 03:05 (UTC)

"Perhaps it is easier for those who do not know him to underestimate him," she countered quietly, shifting her hand slightly in Loki's grip until she could lightly clasp his fingers. "I may not always understand him, but I consider him capable of a great many things."

At the almost-laugh, her smile returned once more. "If you wish it, my prince. Then we shall see who is the deluded one. Rest now. There will be time enough for bickering later." She could hear the weariness in his voice, and shared it, to an extent. Rest would do them all good, she suspected.

Thor hummed an agreement, losing the thread of conversation as the smile fell away and exhaustion finally claimed him in earnest. He shifted closer to Loki and Sif as he slept. Despite their warmth his dreams were all wide green eyes and rough, black twine.

Loki woke sluggishly, his thoughts a stirred-up mess, though he wasn't entirely certain why at first. The potion he used for his headaches often had that effect. But his lips hurt - though somehow that didn't seem to be enough - and he could tell he wasn't alone in bed either.

Which was strange. Very, very strange.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into his brother's face. That brought the events of the last day back in a rush, the visceral sensations first. The prick of the needle, the pull of twine, it seemed just as real now. His breath caught in his throat and he started to clench his hands, only his hands weren't empty.

He glanced down carefully, moving his head only the bare minimum. It took him a moment to identify the hand that he held as Sif's. That explained the other person at his back, the other set of slow, even breathing.

Loki's heart fluttered with a strange sort of panic that no amount of rational thought seemed to calm. Still, he managed to keep his breathing something resembling even as he carefully released Sif's hand.

What were they doing here? Why hadn't they left? What--

I don't want to... I can't...

He needed to think. He couldn't think, not like this, not with Sif unaccountably settled in against his back, not staring into Thor's sleeping face, making him unable to consider anything but the feeling of his own skin being sewed together. Loki carefully probed at his lips with one hand, but the stitches were indeed gone, and the damage didn't feel as great as it should have.

What did they do?

He needed to think.

He closed his eyes and forced the rising panic in his chest down. Magic required calm and focus, after all. It felt sluggish after the strain of carrying Mjolnir so far for Thor - damn you - but slowly he was able to build up the appropriate field around himself. Slowly, because he didn't want to disturb them, didn't want to wake them, he sank down through the mattress until he reached the floor. He rolled out from under the bed and scrambled to his feet with exaggerated care. His coat and boots were a crumpled heap on the floor. He took them up, straining to use a little bit of magic to make the movement silent.

Then he fled - even he could pretend it was nothing else - by passing through the locked door.

Loki could only guess what kind of state he was in, and he could barely restrain himself from simply running. Every too-rapid beat of his heart told him that was what he should do, but he knew if he gave into that urge, he would have truly unmanned himself. He kept his pace a rapid, even walk, going deeper into the residential halls of the palace. At last he came to a narrow, little used stairway that had once been for servants. He took the stairs up, then took two hallways over until he found a tiny door hidden behind a hanging.

It was not his best hiding place, and perhaps even one that Sif and Thor knew, but it was the closest, and it had a change of clothes in it and a few other things to go with all of the books. He slipped in the door and pressed one hand against it putting up a simple ward. The room was dim, but good enough for now thanks to a tiny window in the wall that caught the morning sunlight.

He dropped his boots on the floor and hung his coat on a hook, then located the small, cloudy mirror that hung in one corner. He forced himself to look at his face, the mess that was his mouth.

For a moment panic and sickness made him dizzy. He had to rest one hand on the wall, remind himself that it was solid. Think.

It was plain that they'd used the healing stone on him when he was sleeping. For all that it was a gesture of love - or at the very least guilt - it felt like betrayal. His heart sank, and he had to swallow against the sudden feeling of sickness. His breath came far too rapidly.

He forced himself to breathe in a regular rhythm again, somehow, counting seconds and heartbeats. Then with surprisingly steady hands, he stripped off his clothes and folded them so the worst of the bloodstains didn't show. There was a fresh set of clothes that he changed in to, his fingers mostly steady, though he fumbled twice with the fastener on his collar. Then he pulled a basin off the shelf and filled it with water. With care, he cleaned the rest of the traces of blood from his face, using the mirror to guide his hand.

The wounds were not as bad as they should have been; they were mostly healed, actually. But they would still scar. Loki stared into the mirror. He was not overly vain like Frandral, but he did not wish to have scars as a living reminder of... everything. He searched through the shelves of the room until he found another chunk of crystal to use.

That fixed the rest of it, though there was a tiny, white scar just above his upper lip. It would have to do.

With that taken care of, he had nothing left but to think of the real problem, that Sif and Thor had interfered, that he had let them do it, which was even worse, counter to Odin's orders. He should go to his father, he thought, and tell him all that had happened. He could twist the words to place the blame on his own head, and...

Panic surged through him again at that thought. He cursed himself as a coward, but that didn't stop his hands from shaking, didn't stop dizzyness from overtaking him. He sat abruptly on the only chair in the little room, his face in his hands.

Move, he told himself. Quickly, they will wake soon, and make a mess of everything again.

He couldn't move. His feet felt strange and small and far away, his hands had gone numb. His stomach cramped; if there'd been anything in it he would have vomitted again. Instead, he could only rock back and forth around that pain.

He needed to plan, needed to decide what he would say to his father. But all he could think of was the prick of the needle and Thor's steady blue eyes.

Edited 2011-12-23 09:30 (UTC)

Thor's hand curled tightly in the empty sheet before he woke with a start. He rarely remembered his dreams, but the impression of them often bled into the waking world, and this was no exception. He was already half-sitting, Loki's name on his lips, but the dark eyes that met his own didn't belong to his brother.

Thor threw the covers back, already leaving the bed to fetch the pieces of his armor. He couldn't be here anymore. Far from feeling rested, there was a tightness in his chest. The memory of rough twine and flesh against his fingertips was so vivid he fumbled to right his armor, as if blood still made his hands clumsy and slick. He had meant to leave before Loki woke. He should have done so.

"You're going to search for him." It fell just short of being a question. "If you find him... Stay with him. He shouldn't be alone."

She would fare better at the search without his aid.

Sif sat up, having woken moments before by the sound of Thor's troubled dreams and restless thrashing. He'd jolted upright as she'd jerked awake, then wondered how it had come to be just the two of them asleep in Loki's bed, with no sign of Loki. her hand went instinctively to the sheets between them, but they were cool to the touch, no remnant of Loki's presence remaining.

She sat up, stretching slightly as she watched Thor scramble for his things, her expression concerned. At his words, she nodded, more than willing to obey them. But...

"What about you?" she asked softly, worried almost as much for her golden prince as she was for the dark one. Thor was upset enough that she wasn't sure he should be alone, either, but she was only one person and could not split into two directions. "What will you do?"

Thor swallowed, then forced himself to breathe evenly and slow his hands so that they went through the motions correctly if not as quickly or steadily as he would have liked. Knowing her eyes followed him, he straightened his shoulders, and tried to focus only on what lay ahead.

"Don't waste your sympathies on me, Lady Sif."

His father wouldn't have been foolish enough to begin all of this in the first place, and now Thor could barely face any of it like a man, let alone a prince. He had not thought himself such a coward that he would curry sympathy for his faults, yet he had done enough of that while his brother bled.

"I must speak with the Allfather still," He added, more quietly than he intended. "I've put it off too long already. And if he sees what we've done..." He didn't finish. He tightened his last vambrace in quick, rough motions. While there was something urgent to be done, he felt just a little less helpless, but it remained to be seen how long that would last.

No time at all, most likely, when he eventually came to face Loki as well.

Edited 2011-12-26 04:14 (UTC)

"I'll spend my sympathies where I see fit," she retorted, getting to her feet and vainly trying to straighten the clothing she'd slept in for a moment. They were beyond saving for now, it seemed. She just had to hope she didn't run into anyone while searching for Loki who wondered what she'd been up to all night. "I know that was as much a punishment for you as it was for Loki, my prince. They were cruel in different ways. And I know you would have preferred being the one in physical pain a dozen times over before ever hurting Loki as you did."

She crossed to him, reaching up and giving his arm a light squeeze for a moment. "Speak with your father," she added quietly, her gaze understanding. "See what can be done. I will find your brother and make sure he is alright."

He closed his eyes briefly when she squeezed his arm and nodded just a fraction. He knew all this, as Loki did, but it did nothing to mute the visceral horror of it - or the knowledge that he was far more deserving of this than his brother.

He covered her hand with his own for a moment, and made himself meet her gaze. Truthfully, he was grateful that Sif knew him so well and did not think less of him for the way he behaved, and more still that she cared so much for Loki that he could trust her to find him look after him in his stead.

"Thank you, my friend." The words carried the weight of his affection for her. He paused, swallowed once, then added, "I will find you after, if I am able."

He unlocked the door after that and slipped from the room. He still had to return to his own quarters to clean the blood from his hands and fetch Mjolnir for his audience with the Allfather.

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Stitches

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And then he has his panic attack in privacy

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