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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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"Since when has that ever stopped me?" Sif returned with a casual shrug and an arch of one eyebrow as she studied him, unperturbed by his obvious bad mood. "You're causing a scene, you know. And on the afternoon of your mother's garden tea. Probably not wise, my prince."

She continued to saunter towards him, stopping when only an arm's length separated them. She tilted her head back to peer up into his face, mildly annoyed that he was still more than a head taller than her. He reminded her at the most aggravating times.

"I take it Loki found you," she guessed, her voice softer now. She knew this particular flavor of frustration all too well.

Thor glanced up at the sky as if he'd just now noticed the clouds. "When have you ever known me to be wise?"

His breathing slowed as she approached. Though the tension didn't leave him, he had no plans to spend his temper on Sif, who had risked far too much for them both as of late. He mastered himself as best he could.

From her words and the tone of her voice, he guessed that she had found Loki as well. His expression softened a little, pensive.

"His fist found me first," Thor admitted, a little ruefully. A not entirely rational part of him was relieved at that - he would take that fury over pain and terror any day. "I haven't seen him so furious in a long time. Rightfully so, perhaps," He closed his eyes briefly. "But there is nothing else I could have done. It wasn't right. I couldn't see him suffer for me again."

"Well, I keep hoping maybe you'll surprise me one of these days," she retorted, but there was warmth in her tone to soften the words as she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. He was going to sport a spectacular bruise, but it would hardly be the first time. Loki being the source made it a little odd, however, since his brother was rarely the first to resort to physical violence.

"I can see that. And yes, he was quite... passionate about things before he went looking for you," she added, wincing slightly. "He was quite certain you were going to spoil everything. You didn't, did you? Spoil everything, I mean. Please tell me that's not why he punched you? What happened? Was your father furious?"

"Your faith in me is astounding." Thor replied dryly, but it was spoiled by the truth that seemed to permeate the words, and the softness of it. His shoulders sagged a little, the clouds above them growing slowly thick and dark.

Thor wasn't one to be cowed by difficult questions, but he found it hard not to avert his gaze again, if only because he saw too much of what he felt reflected back at him. "I... It is more complicated than I knew. I very nearly did spoil everything." He tried to grasp the shape of it again, at least what he understood. "I went to Father to explain what I had done, but Loki came before I could finish. He lied. He said he had manipulated me, and everything that had happened was a part of his plan. Father would have had him flogged." He bowed his head. "I couldn't allow it. It was some game to please the court. I know that it was important but Sif... it was not right." More quietly, and perhaps more truthfully, he continued. "I couldn't see him hurt again for my sake."

"Thor..." she murmured softly, her eyes dark with the expression that flickered across his face, the way the clouds darkened overhead. Giving into the impulsive urge, she rose on tiptoes, throwing her arms about his wide shoulders, hugging him tightly.

"No. No, it's not right at all," she agreed with him, burying her face against his shoulder. "It is cruel and unfair and it should not be. But it is what it is. He did this for you. He thinks... He is protecting you. He believes that this is his purpose. You will be king, Thor. The people love you, they always have. They are your people. They have never been fond of Loki the way they have of you, for reasons I have never understood. Nor him, I suspect, but that does not change them. In this, he has a purpose, he has aided you as you asked him to. I can see his meaning, though I like it not. Bringing it to light now... everything he endured for it would be meaningless."

Thor was tense for a heartbeat more, then he let the hammer slip from his hand so he could wrap both of his arms around her, and not only for her sake. She seemed small against him, and he was struck again with that image of she and Loki curled on the floor.

He had wronged them both with his carelessness, but what worried him more was what Loki had intended for him to do, deliberately, knowing the consequences. He would sacrifice anything of himself for Asgard, but he would not have that luxury as king. He would be too important. He had always thought he would grow strong enough to defend all Asgard one day... but he did not know if he would ever be strong enough to allow those he loved most in it to come to harm protecting him.

But in Loki's place, would he have wanted to be allowed?

"I understand," He replied softly, even as his arms tightened briefly around her. For a long moment he simply held her, his chin resting lightly on the crown of her head, feeling the warmth of her through the light tunic he wore. It struck him too that she knew the truth of the matter, and still stood firm by him.

"And I am sorry, Sif," He added, voice thick. "For the pain this has caused you as well."

"My pain is the least of it," Sif replied dryly, giving comfort and receiving it in turn, something she could honestly admit she needed very much at the moment. She was shaken over the past few days' events and she wasn't even directly involved in the conflict. She couldn't even imagine what Thor was feeling, or Loki.

Her arms tightened momentarily around him. It was easier with his arms supporting her and she curled against his broad chest, his heartbeat pounding beneath her ear in a steady, comforting rhythm.

"You owe me no apologies, Thor. This has been a difficult week. For everyone." She turned her head slightly, peering up at him, her expression solemn. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked, his tunic pressed against her cheek.

"I do not think so," The words were a soft, unhappy rumble. Sif's pain had never been the least of anything. Perhaps she had been less directly involved at the start, but he doubted that was much comfort. It would not have been to him.

Her weight against him seemed to lend him steadiness, until he could feel the loss of warmth where she shifted, and the coolness of the breeze against his back. Thor looked down at her, momentarily at a loss. His lips parted slightly, then closed again. He smiled at her, the expression tempered by too many other emotions, but fond none the less. "What you have always done, my lady. Stay by my side." And Loki's as well, he thought, but that went without saying.

"Well, you're in luck," she laughed softly, picking up her head to give him a crooked smile. "Since I'm rather afraid you're stuck with that. I have no intention of ever being anywhere else, my prince."

Now that he looked slightly less likely to behead someone, she took a moment to search his face. "I think your nose is broken," she informed him with a hint of wry humor. "And for once, it wasn't my fault. You should get that seen to."

He knew already, but hearing her say the words had a stronger effect than he would have expected. No matter what changed in the future, she would not. Perhaps he would admit he needed that.

Thor released her with some reluctance, letting her regain her feet before his arms slipped from around her narrow waist. He pinched the bridge of his nose gingerly - it seemed to be healing already, but it wouldn't do to have it set crooked, a reminder of their fight every time he looked in the mirror.

"I hadn't noticed." He replied lightly. "I will look after it. And have a bath, perhaps. Will you join me later?" He paused, thinking. "For a drinking contest, or something of the sort."

Whatever reason was most convenient to get far more drunk than usual tonight.

Sif tried - and failed - to keep a straight face as she arched an eyebrow at him, her expression sardonic. "A drinking contest sounds wonderful. Although I hope you planned that after the bath. I have a feeling we'd start rumors if I joined you for both. Besides, you're likely to drown yourself if you get drunk."

Thor tried - and failed - to avoid picturing that. He wasn't an innocent by any stretch, but Sif had been his friend since they were children, and thinking of her otherwise...

"Lady Sif..." He sincerely hoped his thoughts didn't translate into his expression because his nose had already been broken once today. Still, he couldn't resist. "You would have, when we were younger. Perhaps you aren't quite as good at sneaking around the palace now, or is it that you are afraid of drowning?"

"You have no idea how good I am at sneaking anywhere, my prince," she answered archly, tossing a dark braid over one shoulder and smirking faintly, deciding to let him wonder. "And I am afraid of nothing. Go see to your nose, Thor. I will stop by after tonight's meal. You can bring the drinks."

Thor's eyebrows rose, amusement mixing with mild alarm. He decided he didn't want to know.

He caught her arm, fingers brushing the underside of her forearm and then her hand, which he brought to his lips. It was a more formal farewell than necessary, but there was a glimmer of good humor in his eyes again. "Until tonight, Lady Sif."

And as he stepped back into the shadow of the doorway, it began to rain.

"Dammit, Thor!"

Her laughing curse rang out in the courtyard as the first few drops splattered on her skin and she dashed for the nearest doorway in search of shelter before the skies opened up in a deluge.

A little more than three weeks later, Loki returned to the court. He simply appeared at breakfast one day as if it was no different from any other, calmly eating a bowl of fruit next to his mother.

It caused a stir, of course. But after three weeks, a lot of momentum had been lost on the gossip about his public punishment. And since he wasn't horribly disfigured, there was the expected hissing about him being a dishonest magician and a cheat, but it wasn't nearly as good for fodder as a few horrible scars would have been.

And if any of it bothered Loki or even reached his ears, he gave absolutely no sign. He gave the gossips no help by being annoyingly, persistently normal in every thing he did.

Well, nearly everything. He still seemed quite adept at avoiding Thor when there wasn't a large crowd around them. But that wasn't something anyone but Thor, Sif, and the Warriors knew. Loki had always been adept at escaping activities he didn't like and making it seem like a natural occurrence.

But even Loki knew that he couldn't avoid his brother forever.

It wasn't that he was angry any more. That had bled off for the most part after the first few days. The satisfaction of having broken Thor's nose had helped a little with that. The worst of the nightmares had ceased as well.

There was no logical reason behind it, and Loki could quietly admit that to himself. But logical or no, he had done his best to place Thor at the same polite distance he kept everyone in the court at. Distance was safe. Distance meant that no one could hurt you unless you were foolish enough to let them.

And he also knew it was illogical, to think that he could act as he had implied he would, as Thor's under hand. Not with that distance intact. But he was beginning to doubt his conviction there, as well. Nothing felt right any more. His life no longer seemed to fit, and all that alteration had required was a needle and a little bit of twine.

Edited 2012-01-16 22:28 (UTC)

It had been a long three weeks. A hunting trip with the Warriors had taken him out of the palace for two, but even when he returned, Loki had not. Thor knew that he would eventually, when he chose to, but it had not stopped him from walking on nights when he did not wish to dream and finding the empty places where his brother normally hid.

The tone of this fight had been different from all others before it, in that it felt like suddenly everything had changed, or come into a far harsher light. He was not given to thinking deeply but nights were long, and he brooded on it.

These court games... Odin too played them, and he needed no aid, no scapegoat for his foolishness. He had his father's strength, perhaps, but none of his wisdom - and that was dangerous to all that he held dear. He would have no choice but to learn more of this. A task easier thought of than accomplished.

When Loki finally returned, the distance between them seemed not to have lessened at all. They exchanged formal pleasantries on the rare chance that Thor managed to meet him in a crowd, but he was unwilling to corner his brother before the court, and Loki avoided him otherwise. It was utterly maddening, and perhaps something more sharply painful as well.

It did not take long for him to lose patience with it. After dinner one evening he followed his brother directly out into the hall, and reached to catch his arm before he could turn a corner and be gone again.

"Loki, enough." The words were sharper than he intended, but sounded like a plea all the same. "Will you avoid me until the end of days?"

Loki went stiff for a moment, eyes going wide, and then as quickly as it had happened the expression was gone. He turned to face his brother, a look of polite interest on his face. "Fancy meeting you like this," he said, his tone mild, with just the right amount of added bewilderment. "Have I been avoiding you? I've simply had a lot of details to see to since my return. I'm very sorry if I've given you the wrong impression because of it."

Thor felt his jaw clench. "If you are angry with me still, so be it, you have that right. But there is no court to please here." He took a step closer, nearly towering, but did not raise his hand again. "Why do you lie to me, brother?"

Loki gamely held on to his smile. The urge to step back was great, but for now he forced himself to hold his ground. "What an unfair accusation. You are not the center of my world, brother dear. There are things I do that you are not involved with."

It was a very unkind thing to say, but Loki was feeling particularly unkind, and more than a little threatened with Thor seeming to loom over him. As if he needed a reminder of how easily he could be overpowered by Thor.

His smile took on a crafty edge. "Though I am surprised to find you eager for my company. How is your nose doing? It's not nearly as flat as I recall last seeing it."

"Perhaps that is true," Thor replied, though it was clear that he did not believe so.

He took a half-step back, for once, and folded his arms across his broad chest. He did not mean to begin yet another fight with his brother, but a part of him worried that one step to far be enough for Loki to escape yet again, to whatever duties he pretended kept them apart.

"It is as well as your hand, I would hope." Thor replied sincerely, his gaze averted. He exhaled heavily. "I did not ask to be the center of your life, Loki, but I do not wish to be entirely apart from you, either." He met his brother's gaze again. "What can I do to make this right?"

"My hand's never been better," Loki said evenly. The next question was unsurprising, coming from Thor. Of course he thought it was a matter of simply doing something, as if a single act existed that could unmake the last month and return things to normal.

Loki snorted quietly. "Nothing. It cannot be made right. We can only proceed from here." His tone was flat and final.

For a moment, he examined his brother's face. It only seemed fair that perhaps he burden Thor with the problem that had been plaguing him this entire time, at least until Thor grew weary. "Perhaps you can find a reason for me to do anything but hate the people who cheered at my torture. I've certainly tried to come up with something; I know I ought to care about their wellbeing since they're your future subjects. I haven't the intestinal fortitude, I suppose."

That, perhaps, he could believe. He could not undo his actions any more than he could make penance for them, so he kept his peace on that point.

Loki's question surprised him so that he did not immediately have an answer for him. They had not known the truth of the matter this time, but it was not only a problem of this time. Thor was not entirely blind to the way some eyes shifted from him to his brother, growing narrow and dark despite the pretense of cheer. Loki was not well-loved by the court, and Thor couldn't expect that the court be well-loved by Loki.

The silence stretched between them, but Thor picked his words carefully.

"Hating them will not change them, brother. It will change you." He knew enough of the world at least to understand that hatred was not a balm, but a poison that festered in every wound, and he did not wish to see Loki suffer further for this. "And they are not my only future subjects. There were those who did not cheer. There were those who wept. But I cannot pick and choose who I will rule."

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Three weeks later

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