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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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"I suppose I can ask no more than that." But it was important, then, to remember that there were things he couldn't ask her to do, no matter how necessary they were, because of whatever vows she'd undertaken or her personal honor. That limited her usefulness, and even as that thought crossed his mind he hated himself a little for thinking it.

But this too was a new avenue of thought he had to accustom himself to, and he found part of himself hating it already even as analytically he found it fascinating. He had always considered most people to be at the very least easily manipulated, if not merely tools. But for all he had certainly manipulated everyone in their little group at times - including Thor, he was one of the easiest to fool often - he'd never thought he would need to make it into an art.

Loki frowned, for a moment looking at Sif without seeing her, looking through her. It all seemed so neatly laid out, a course that he could follow and a purpose that seemed made for his particular talents. And still, he hesitated, uncertain if that was truly what he wanted while the part of him that took almost unholy glee in untangling puzzles was already miles ahead, calculating and mentally arranging.

He was afraid. As inevitable as it was, he was also pathetically, damnably afraid.

"Yes," he murmured to himself. "But what else could I do?" No answer was forthcoming.

"Loki?' Sif asked, having watched the emotions play across his face in fascination, wondering what thoughts upset and puzzled him so. She didn't step back, but her hand brushed against his spine, as if to subtly remind him that she was still here before his mind wandered off down a path she couldn't follow and he forgot her entirely. It had happened before and she suspected it might have occurred several times in the past few seconds. She didn't mind, although there was something in his eyes that unsettled her.

Her arms tightened unconsciously about him a moment as she searched his face. "What are you plotting this time, my prince? You don't look entirely pleased with it." Which was odd in itself, she could admit.

Loki forced himself to look at her again, brought back to the here and now by a touch. He shuddered, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to compose his expression better. Plainly he was failing at that effort.

The fingers of one hand curled lightly against her back. It was so odd, that she still hadn't let him go. Did he really seem that... concerning? Loki examined her face, trying to find an answer to that question as he considered what he he should say.

"No plots. Nothing..." he should have continued on with, 'you need concern yourself over,' but the words refused to emerge. He should let go of her now, he thought. This was strange and awkward and difficult to think around. But his arms refused to drop away; if anything, his hold tightened.

Loki looked past Sif toward the wall as if there was some answer written there. "... I'm afraid." His tone was strange and far away to his own ears. "How pathetic."

His answer surprised her and she lifted her hand to cup against his cheek, her brow furrowed with concern. "It's not pathetic," she argued, shaking her head, a frown on her lips. "There is no shame in admitting fear. But of what, Loki?" she asked, her voice softening as she searched his face, worry dark in her eyes. "What is it you're afraid of?"

Loki dragged his gaze back to her face, examining her expression minutely for any sign of contempt, anything that didn't match with her words. He wasn't certain what he hoped to see. Because in a way, it would have been easier, if she had chided him or insulted him or told him to grasp at his courage and move forward since he seemed so unmanned he couldn't do it on his own.

He didn't know how to react to sympathy, to the other strange emotions coloring her eyes. Her touch made something twist in his chest; he shuddered, but covered her hand with his to keep it there.

How to answer that question? Everything was the closest thing to the truth, but it seemed so ridiculous and dramatic. Just the thought of it drew on odd sound from him, a laugh but far more painful. His other hand tightened against her back, gathering a fistful of cloth.

"I don't really know," he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not a luxury I can afford."

"Loki," she spoke softly, turning her hand, giving his fingers a squeeze. She was still pressed against him, and very aware of it now, with his fingers fisted in the cloth at her waist. She felt her cheeks heat slightly and unconsciously took a step backwards, although the movement was reluctant. She hadn't really wanted to, but at the moment, she was very conscious of what she should or should not do. She still kept hold of his hand however, unable to relinquish that just yet.

"Then what can I do, Loki?' she asked him softly, still searching his face. "What is it you need?"

That hurt as well, when she stepped away; there was an echo of that pain in his expression for just the blink of an eye, and then he had himself under control again. Loki quickly dropped his hand away from her back. He pulled her hand away from his cheek, pausing to place a light kiss on the back of it, the motion made into an irony with the practiced arch of an eyebrow.

He had wanted her to tell him to stop his self-pitying and move forward. This would do just as well, he supposed. He should not have asked for comfort in the first place, and it was not a thing he could ask of Sif, for all her noble offers of help.

She had said he could give her orders, he mused for one dizzying moment. But that would be a new level of pathetic to grasp at.

He opened his fingers to let her hand go, adding a polite, if half-bow to the motion. "I require nothing of you at this time, Lady Sif, but I appreciate your concern. I ought to go see my father now. I've already delayed far too long." He gave her a smile that was all pleasant, polite distance, as if they were miles apart rather than nearly on top of each other in the tiny room. "Perhaps find my brother and delay him if he has not yet spoken to our father, though it's no doubt too late for that."

He was distancing himself. She could acknowledge it - even understand it - but Sif could find no way around it. Not right now. Even though she hated the smile he gave her, the one that made her feel like she was just another member of the court, one that must be shown the facade he so often wore to mask his true face. Her fingers curled into a fist at her side and she averted her gaze before he could see the disappointment in her gaze. Lifting her hand, she pressed her fist to her chest and gave him a bow with the same amount of polite deference he'd granted her, keeping her head bowed.

"There is a chance Thor has not gotten to him yet, my prince," she answered, managing to make her voice even, despite the slightly strained element to it. "He may have returned to his chambers first. You might still catch your father first if you hurry."

The back of his throat tasted bitter as he smiled. But this was necessary, wasn't it? He'd revealed a bit too much, trusted a bit too much, and it was Sif that had stepped away from it.

And it was only fair. He could no longer rely on his father, and it certainly wasn't fair to try to transfer any of that burden over to Sif, as he'd been tempted to do in that moment. It was his to deal with, and he needed to accept it.

"Hurry I shall, then. See if you can find my brother, if you please."

With an easy, graceful movement he slipped around her to get to the door. But he wasn't quite able to stop himself from reaching out, his hand running down her arm as he passed, his fingers momentarily finding hers and squeezing lightly.

Then he opened the door and stepped out into the hall, not looking back. It was cowardly, but he found himself glad that he couldn't see her face. He should not have done that, not after he'd gone to all the trouble of re-establishing the distance between them. It seemed he still hadn't entirely regained his rationality. Maybe he would once he was no longer in her somewhat sympathetic presence.

He strode down in the hall, taking the shortest course to his father's chambers. The throne room would perhaps be better, since it was public, but... he wasn't quite ready to face the throne room yet, and hopefully his father would still be in his rooms.

Between Loki's room and his own, Thor saw no one, not even servants moving in the great shadows along the walls. He was glad for it when he finally shut the door behind him and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He had tugged on his clothing nearly blind, mind elsewhere, but now he didn't know how he'd failed to notice the large blood stain dried nearly black on his sleeve, smaller drops and flecks of it on his armor and in his skin.

He wanted to bathe but he didn't have time for it. If not for the blood, he wouldn't have bothered to change either, but he couldn't -- he couldn't see the Allfather like this.

He took the time to wash the blood from his hands and rake his fingers through his hair. What would he tell his father? The truth? He had thought of little besides putting an end to Loki's suffering, and that wasn't an acceptable answer, not for Odin, but Thor didn't know what other answer he could give. He was not like Loki. He could not say that his actions were meant to be more than they seemed.

Perhaps if he explained it all plainly, from the start.

On his bed beside Mjolnir, a formal tunic had been laid out for him, red with gold embroidery. Though he didn't remember calling for it, it was clean and convenient, and smelled faintly of the flowers in his mother's garden. He pulled it on first and took Mjolnir's haft again. He would do what he could. He had no more time to brood on this.

--

He went directly to his father's chambers, barely noting that the guards were missing this morning. Odin was waiting for him. Thor just caught the movement of his hand as he rested it against the arm of his chair, and the tension in his fingers as they closed about it.

He knew this was not court, but he dropped to one knee automatically and set Mjolnir between them.

"Father," He swallowed, head bowed, feeling all at once young and small under Odin's gaze. "I know that I have been foolish and arrogant - I have disobeyed you." He cursed the clumsiness of his tongue, but forged on. "I will explain it all and bear any punishment but please, father, I am solely responsible for my decisions. I..."

"You are responsible for your decisions," Odin agreed, and Thor's head jerked upward before he could help himself. "But that does not mean that you will be the only one to bear out the consequences, regardless of whether you have been foolish or wise." Odin's eye narrowed at him, forestalling the protest that rose to his tongue. "Regardless of whether it is just or necessary. It will not wait until you are king."

This caught him off guard. He didn't know what Odin meant. Thor's own eyes narrowed. "Father, with all due respect - A king can do as he pleases, especially when it is just. Asgard is strong."

"You would start a war over this?" Odin shot back sharply, and Thor dropped his gaze, the sting of guilt and shame as vivid as a lash. "A king does what he must. A boy does as he pleases." Odin's next words were quiet, tinged with something he didn't quite understand. "You're not a boy any longer, Thor Odinson."

Some other time, the words would have brought him pride, or he would have argued that he had not been a boy for some time, but now they seemed to settle on his shoulders like stones. He was not a king yet, either, but this was what it meant. It was not just punishment - Odin had been unwilling to risk war, and that made him unable to protect his own sons. In time, Thor would face the same sort of choice: those he loved, or those who were sworn to him. Being King would not be a grand freedom. It would be this.

In time, every action would be borne by all of Asgard.

The weight of it seemed suddenly stifling.

Odin's gaze lifted, narrowing at the door as if he saw something Thor did not. Thor knew that look. He rose automatically, but Odin raised a hand to forestall him and gestured once. "Stay, and be silent."

He moved to stand behind his father, Mjolnir heavy in his hands, and for once did as he was told without protest. They were not finished yet. He turned wearily to the door, not sure if he hoped the interruption would be quick or never ending.

Loki strode into his father's chambers with far more confidence than he actually felt. He caught sight of Thor immediately, standing behind his father's shoulder. It was impossible to miss him. Loki's eyes narrowed, and there was a slight hesitation in one step, but he'd come to far to let his composure be ruined now.

He knew what he needed to do. However unpleasant the situation, Loki refused to leave any project unfinished. And what he finished would damn well stay finished. And if Thor tried to interfere again... well, Loki was calm enough now that magic was most definitely an option.

Loki paused in front of Odin and briefly dropped to one knee before standing. "Father."

Odin's face gave nothing away. "Loki."

Loki schooled his expression in to one of spoiled arrogance. "I can't imagine what sort of deliciously noble yet horribly clumsy lie Thor has told you, Father, but I thought you might like the truth now that I can miraculously speak again."

He met Odin's gaze for a moment, and he was certain that, like before, their father knew. But he would let the performance continue. "By all means, tell me your side." There was no mistaking dry note in Odin's voice.

"To begin with, I wagered Mjolnir with the dwarves. I hadn't really expected them to be able to count, which is why it all went a bit wrong. A miscalculation on my part." As he spoke this lie, his voice careless as if it didn't matter, he looked at Thor, meeting his brother's eyes. "I'm not surprised the dwarves didn't mention this to you in their tale of woe, considering they should have known better than to listen to me. But I suppose we've all learned something valuable."

Still no change in Odin's expression. Loki knew that he shouldn't expect one. He swallowed down a surge of nerves. It was too late to turn back now. It had been too late since yesterday.

"After your most just punishment was meted upon me," he didn't bother hiding the bitterness in his voice there, and at this point he found he could no longer look at his brother, "dear Thor felt so tragic about the entire ordeal that I easily... convinced him he ought to bend your orders a bit. A few tears, some whimpering, that sort of thing. I do feel a bit bad about that, Father, but I've a pretty face and didn't want to see it ruined."

This time, there was the slightest of twitches at Odin's lips. "And this is your story, Loki."

"This is the truth. Sadly, just another of those messes I so relish creating." He finally looked at Thor again, putting a careful note of disdain in his expression. "And I do so appreciate my big brother trying to protect me, but it's gotten a bit embarrassing."

"Do you understand the choice you are making?" Odin's tone was surprisingly soft.

Loki met his father's eye for a moment, then looked away. His carefully crafted expression faded, though he at least didn't show more than a hint of the uncertainty that filled him. "I believe so." A smile ghosted across his lips. "Though if you ask me tomorrow, perhaps I will be less certain."

Edited 2012-01-01 00:47 (UTC)

Sif squeezed his fingers in return, her throat choked shut on any words she might have said to him, any way she could have made it better. Her skin tingled where he'd touched her and she could only watch as he walked away. her hand reached out without even realizing it, but he never looked back, never saw.

Her fingers curled as the door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone in his hidden room. She stood there a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to bring herself back under control once more, her fist dropping unnoticed to her side. Her eyes were clenched shut because she couldn't bear to look now. not yet. It took all her strength not to run after him, even now. But no. He needed her to stop Thor, if she could. She'd promised him.

Her jaw clenched and she forced her shoulders to straighten once more as she adopted an impassive expression, wiping her feelings from her face. Strengthening her resolve, Sif strode from the room in search of the elder prince, determined to do what she could this time.

Thor's eyes widened slightly, his gaze meeting Loki's before dropping to his healed lips, catching the stutter in his step. He shouldn't be here, not yet. He couldn't tell if Sif had managed to find his brother or not, and couldn't guess which of them had finished the healing, but it was done now, and something like fear curled tightly in his chest.

He knew where Loki's lies would lead, so much smoother than Thor's own clumsy truth. He might have broken Odin's command for silence before Loki could finish speaking, but Loki wasn't looking at their father - he was looking at Thor. It was not unlike kneeling before him in court the previous evening. His eyes held the same resolve, and the request for Thor to shut up.

He shook his head. He didn't want this, couldn't do this. Not again.

Do you understand the choice you are making?

Though the words were not directed at him, he thought of them, lips slightly parted on the beginnings of a protest. He watched Loki's expression as it shifted into something more true. He felt the weight of this moment too; whether he should speak or remain silent, it would cost something.

Thor's hands closed tightly, calloused fingers digging into his palm and Mjolnir's haft. He had never felt so powerless as he did within the trappings of court politics. He was not a boy anymore, and neither was Loki.

Thor swallowed once. "Don't do this, brother, please. You've done enough."

Loki looked from his father to Thor, taking in his brother's expression. This, he realized, was why he had to make this decision. Because Thor plainly still did not understand, and likely never would. And that was worrying. Because while Odin was a warrior first, he was a good king because he could understand the politics. He knew the game and played it well.

And Loki now worried that Thor would never understand the game, let alone excel at playing it. He turned his gaze back to his father, wondering if Odin shared that fear. What sort of king would Thor make, if he didn't understand these sorts of decisions? What Odin thought was not obvious. This was entirely his own decision to make.

That didn't make it any easier.

"More than enough has been done, considering the giant mess this has turned into, brother," Loki said, though his gaze was still fixed on their father. "You do me no honor with your interference." His voice was flat and cold. "Father, you now have the truth of the matter."

"I do," Odin said. "And that does not make it any easier. You are my son. But you have also disobeyed my orders. Orders that I made known before the court. I cannot give you special treatment."

"I understand." Loki remained motionless, though at his sides, his hands tightened into fists. The normal penalty was a flogging. Considering that there was already such a mess he seemed to be at the center of, he doubted that he would be able to get off more lightly than that. It might even end up worse.

He didn't want this. But he would also see this matter through, which meant he had little choice. And this meant that Sif would be safe as well, with her part in the mess unknown. And Thor...

It wasn't fair. It was a childish thing to think, but it was true. In that moment he hated Thor, and hated Sif a little as well, because they had only tangled things up all over again, left another mess for him to try to clean up with their well-intentioned acts. For a moment, he wished he was the sort of man to just let them twist.

But he had said he would see this thing through. And he would. Hopefully in the future, there would be less interference with what needed to be done. That thought did nothing to ease the sick feeling that cramped his stomach.

"No, that isn't right." Thor murmured, his eyes narrowing at the floor. He moved from behind Odin's chair so he could see his father's face as he spoke and not Loki's. "Loki did not disobey your orders, father. I aided him, as he said himself, and regardless of my reasons for doing so it was not Loki who pulled the stitches from his lips or used the healing crystals. I knew your orders and acted against them. He could not have stopped me if he tried."

As soon as he stopped for breath, Odin spoke again, his face unreadable. "I see. In that case, your punishment will be equal."

Thor felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising and he tensed, but Odin's gaze shifted from him to Loki, his expression stern for a moment, the visage of a displeased king, as if daring either of them to object. Then, that unyielding veneer melted away into the more familiar exasperation of a father dealing with his two intractable children. One hand was thrown upwards in vexation as he got to his feet and paced towards them with a frown.

"Or, at the very least, it would be, if I were to carry this further. But I think there have been enough consequences paid over this foolishness. You have both made foolish, childish mistakes," he chided them, his voice harsh for a moment as he regarded them both. "I expected better from you. I still expect better from you. Neither of you have the luxury of this sort of idiocy, but at the same time I can’t bring myself to punish you for this unflinching loyalty to each other, even if you do both take it to even more foolish levels," he concluded, exasperation creeping back into his voice.

"As of this moment, we will consider this matter concluded, the debt settled. It is enough. And I don’t want to hear of anything like this happening again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Odin added firmly, studying his sons.

Edited (daddy issues) 2012-01-02 06:05 (UTC)

Loki's face had gone stone-still when Thor spoke, his hands actually trembling slightly with the urge to just round on his brother and punch him until he stopped talking. He had to bite the inside of his lip to remain quiet and motionless until their father had finished speaking.

It was a far more generous result than either of them deserved, really.

"Abundantly clear." Loki bowed, fist over his heart. "I won't disappoint you again, Father. Your generosity is as undeserved as it is unexpected."

Anything Thor might have said was lost in the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. It had been a long, long time since Loki had felt so truly enraged. He stayed bowed, watching Odin from under his lashes until their father dismissed them.

An instant later he had turned on his heel and was striding down the hall as quickly as his long legs could take him without resorting to a run.

Edited 2012-01-02 06:20 (UTC)

Thor hadn't expected mercy, but he wasn't ungrateful for it. He forced his head up and mirrored Loki's gesture stiffly. "Yes, Father. I understand."

Odin gave him another look he couldn't decipher, and for a moment Thor thought he might be asked to stay, but they were both simply dismissed and Thor was eager to be gone. Perhaps soon he would convince someone to spend some weeks with him camping and hunting out in the forest, away from here.

For now, he followed Loki without even thinking of where. He knew from the set of his brother's shoulders that he was furious, and that was all the more reason. Thor called to him as he rounded the corner, wearily braced for a fight.

Loki stopped out of sight around the corner, waiting with a sort of stillness the others often found disconcerting. As soon as Thor stepped around the corner, he drove his fist into his brother's face.

He could never win in a fistfight against Thor. Intellectually, he knew this. But so much rage flowed through his veins that it also didn't really matter at the moment.

His fist connected with a satisfying crack, hard enough that a sharp shock of pain ran through his hand. Loki's face contorted in a silent snarl and he grabbed the front of Thor's tunic, driving him into the nearby wall.

His hands were white-knuckled fists in Thor's tunic as he pressed in, his face only a few inches from his brother's. "You are a fool. If this stupidity is how you will repay me, never ask a favor of me again," he hissed. Though quiet, the words held all the anger and venom of a scream.

Maybe later Thor would argue that it was sheer surprise that stunned him, but at that moment he knew Loki had just broken his nose so forcefully he saw black before his back hit the wall. He didn't resist, even then, with Loki's face so close to his own. It was all he could do not to flinch at the expression on his brother's face.

For too many rapid heartbeats he was silent. His breath made an odd noise, blood leaking sluggishly from his nose. He knew that anything he said would only serve to enrage his brother further, if that were possible, and sometimes it was better to let him spend his fury.

But then he noticed the faint line of a scar on Loki's upper lip. His jaw set, and his hands closed firmly on his brother's wrists.

"I wouldn't have asked in the first place if I knew it would have come to this." His own words were quiet and measured, but the truth and remorse and guilt twined in them made his tone sharp. "Perhaps you could have borne it, brother, but I could not. I meant no disrespect."

Though his eyes were downcast, there was no escaping Loki's gaze - he was shorter by inches, too angry and too close.

"Shut up!" Loki shouted, yanking Thor forward so that he could have the pleasure of slamming his brother against the wall again. "For once in your life, just shut up and listen."

His hands jerked against Thor's tunic again as he fought the urge to just strike instead of speaking. His voice dropped to that low, venomous sound again. "If you knew. If you knew. I knew the possible consequences of my actions before I took them because unlike you, I think. This isn't a schoolyard game any more, brother, and you no longer get to decide the rules or choose who gets to play."

Again he shoved Thor. "What I did was for your future kingdom just as much as it was for you."

Loki was right. He hadn't thought, not really. When he went out to challenge the dwarves and then when he asked his brother to help him recover what he'd foolishly lost, he had simply assumed things would fall as they always had: in his favor. At worst perhaps there would be scars to show for it.

He let Loki shove him, barely feeling the ache in his shoulder blades where they met the wall. The words hurt more. Loki had done this for him, from the start, knowing how it could end.

"What would you have had me do? Sit and watch while you suffered for my foolishness twice over? I should have done a great many things that I did not, and I am truly sorry for that, but what madness makes you think I could have let that happen?" He realized his hands were too tight on Loki's wrists now, and he eased carefully though he didn't release him. "You paid more than your price. It was enough."

"Is it madness? Is it madness to expect you'll have a bloody modicum of sense? You no longer get to decide when I have done enough!" Loki shouted, shoving Thor again. "I am no child that requires the protection of his big brother, and no weakling that must hide in your shadow."

He gritted his teeth and leaned in close, his eyes wild. "I am a knife in the darkness, brother, and you had best start considering what that means now."

Abruptly he released his brother, yanking his hands from Thor's grip in one swift motion. He stepped back rapidly. His voice dropped low, filled with bitterness. "Though the contempt with which you view me and the strength of my love for you never ceases to amaze me."

He barked out a word of command in a strange language and stepped through the wall behind him.

"Loki!" Thor reached after him but the flat of his hand only met cool, unyielding stone. A wordless snarl of frustration twisted his lips, but of course there was no getting through, and knowing his brother he would be long gone after an exit like that.

"Contempt? What contempt?" Thor shouted after him, his hand curling against the wall. "It is my love for you that makes this so impossible. I cannot wield a knife that cuts my hand."

He touched his forehead to the stone. "Damnit Loki."

Her first hunt for Thor hadn't given her many results, but it had gotten her a lot of strange looks. Postponing her search, Sif slipped back to the suite of rooms she had in the palace, taking several minutes to clean up and change into clothing that hadn't been slept in or bled on.

Feeling more herself, she started up again, but it didn't take her long to figure out where Thor had landed himself, not with the way the bright afternoon sun had vanished behind a roiling fury of stormclouds. Altering her course brought her out into the training courtyard just as thunder rumbled threateningly overhead. It drew her gaze upwards a moment before looking back as her prince let his might hammer fly, obliterating one of the training dummies with a blow.

She applauded the move softly, striding casually towards him as the hammer flew unerringly back to his grip, her expression thoughtful.

"Getting acquainted, are we?"

Thor thought of letting Mjolnir fly again. It slid lower in his grasp, still humming with unspent power, as if it echoed his unhappiness, but he shook his head once and turned to Sif as she approached.

His shoulders were squared, the tension in them obvious. He had stalked right out after the incident with Loki, so he hadn't even thought to go hunting for a healing crystal. His knuckles and face were bloody, and he breathed too heavily, only partially from exertion.

"It isn't wise to be in my company right now, Lady Sif."

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Stitches

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