marvelbox | 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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Loki had expected more arguing, because that was what Thor always did. It was as predictable as the Sun rising in the east. And to a certain extent, he'd been looking forward to it, because fighting with Thor was simple, and occasionally even fun because he didn't have to hold back.

But this? He didn't quite know how to react.

Loki stared at his brother, trying to understand what was different about this moment, what had happened that could have made Thor want to listen to something he most certainly would not like to hear.

Something squeezed in Loki's chest, painful and tight, yet good.

He grabbed Thor's sleeve with one hand and leaned forward to rest his forehead against his brother's, his eyes falling half shut. "This is no different from anything else we do," he said quietly. "It's still a battle even if the field is different. And you do not try to go alone or feel tempted by fear there."

Even a few weeks ago he would have argued more. More often than not, it worked. Rarely was a situation truly too dangerous, an endeavor too reckless, once they were in the thick of it. Impossible was a word he'd taken to meaning simply difficult, and difficulty wasn't something he'd ever shied away from.

But this was not a great adventure, or some rule that could be beaten and bent until he had his way. This was a situation in which he had no other option. Thor was stubborn to a fault but he was not such a fool that he did not realize when stubbornness would not be enough. In battle, he adapted, and in this it was not so different.

If truly Loki must be a knife, then Thor, at the least, would be a sure and steady hand. They could do this together. They were the sons of Odin. And perhaps it would not be a question of losing his brother, one way or the other.

"And you do not forget why you fight," He let his hand rest against the back of Loki's neck, content to be close and still for a long moment. "It is good to have you back."

Loki laughed, a thread of pain in the sound. "That, I am still trying to decide."

Because he felt like he needed a better reason than because he had no other options, or because it simply needed to be done. For all that he prided his intellect, he knew that he needed something he felt as much as thought.

It was easy to work for the defense of people who loved him and he loved in return. Much less so for people who hated him.

Thor didn't respond. He could think of no words that would suffice. Instead, he shifted a step and pulled his brother into a hug.

Loki returned the hug a little awkwardly. Things were better between them, but he still didn't feel entirely comfortable hugging Thor, not after three weeks of effectively living like a hermit.

Which was probably what made it very important.

There was perhaps some relief in the fact that Loki returned the embrace at all, and Thor took it as permission to squeeze him tighter. He had missed Loki. He always did. And three weeks was a long time to be apart with so much anger and uncertainty stretching out between them.

"Don't leave like that again." It came out just short of a question.

Loki was fairly certain that sound was his ribs breaking in protest. He patted Thoron the shoulder in the hopes his brother would let up. "It's nice to be back," he said, his voice a little strangled. "I'd almost run through all my books."

Of course he could have come back unknown at any time, but he didn't want to admit that. And he had, at the beginning of his self imposed exile, and seen Sif. But if she hadn't told Thor about that, he certainly wasn't going to himself. He still didn't know quite what to make of it.

"I don't plan on it." That was a good answer to Thor's almost question without being a direct lie.

Stitches

Re: Three weeks later

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Re: Three weeks later

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Re: Three weeks later

oh sorry Loki did you need to breathe

Re: oh sorry Loki did you need to breathe