Thor held his brother's gaze steadily. He had learned early in life that he could not cheat Odin's lessons, so he did not try to do so now, lest his father have him begin again. It was strange. The hall was so full of noise, and his brother's pain so silent, but it was the latter that was deafening to him. He was close enough to feel it cool and wet against his his hand.

He could not stop. He could not even think of it. If he did, he would not start again. He would slay Brokk and Eitri with his his bare hands still wet from Loki's blood.

Thor breathed shallow and irregular, but still the motion did not falter. He was a warrior. He knew to put aside pain, steady his hands, and move with purpose. He told himself this, but too often he blinked to clear his eyes, or felt a tremor pass through his hand as he pulled the twine taught.

He passed his thumb across Loki's cheek irregularly but often, every time he felt the pressure against his armor increase.

Brother you are stronger than this. I know that you are.

If he paused, it was to wipe the needle clean against his own skin so that it would not slide in his fingers between one stitch and the next.

This would never happen again.