Author's Note:

Written for this prompt on the norsekink meme:

Loki/Thor, Thor is gay and feels guilty

I want to see Thor discovering at a young age that he's gay, which is severely frowned on by Odin, so he tries desperately to hide it. As time goes on, he finds himself falling in love with his own brother, only adding to his perceived perversion. Loki, meanwhile, is using that silver tongue of his to woo as many women as he can, sending Thor into fits of rage and jealousy that he is too ashamed to explain.

I want lots and lots of Thor-style angst, guilt, self-hatred and confusion. Happy ending would be lovely, but not obligatory.


Don't Leave Me the Way I Am

Chapter One


"Odin, please. He is just a boy."

"Who will be King one day, lest you forget!"

There's the sound of chairs angrily scrapping across the stone floor, the odd hard stomp of a boot. Thor squeezes his eyes shut and leans back against the chamber door, its grain rough and cool against the back of his neck as he tries to listen.

"He didn't know any better. He's too young. Surely, every boy does some such—"

"Not MY boy!" Odin roars.

There's a moment of restless silence.

"He brings shame on us, Frigga. That boy's parents are going to talk and there will be hearsay. You know, as well as I, how deep a rumour can cut... Thor will be scarred with this."

"Nothing has to come of it. I will speak directly to young Fandral's parents. They are a good people and only brought this to light for the boys' safety."

Thor wants to run away, far away from here. His father's words terrify him because he does not understand. But it is like he's anchored down, tied to this spot. Belatedly he realizes his face is wet, from what he knows not. He doesn't really understand what he's done wrong, what has made his father so angry. All Thor knows is that one moment he was laughing, running through the golden palace halls, the sun still sticking to his back. His red cloak that waved through the air was warm and his gait so fast he was pretending to fly.

The next moment, it was as if he'd slammed up against a wall of ice. Thor had entered the courtroom where Odin Allfather stood, stone-faced and seething. He commanded Thor return to his chambers without supper and Thor, a growing boy most definitely looking forward to the evening's meal after a full day of play, wanted to know why. He'd stolen out of his rooms and pressed an ear to his parents' door, hoping to learn just that.

What he hears though, is enough to make him sick to his stomach.

"Thor is a vain, greedy, cruel little boy. He has always been so! I expect no less from him for this. He will take liberties, Frigga. Take until he has brought shame on us, on me. Rest assured I will keep my eye on him."

"Oh but you only have the one, dear."

Food forgotten, Thor balls up fists and gasps, trying to be quiet. But nothing can drown out the hushed voices that buzz together, the one-word shouts. All he can hear now is the contempt that laces his father's words together so tight and harsh, words that wrap around Thor's neck and arms and legs until he is curled up into a small ball on the other side of the door. Lost, too young, a knot.

"We will teach him what is expected. He will learn—"

"No. Thor will unlearn what he has already cultivated. He is not a mere babe. He should know better than to lay a hand upon another male in the baths!—" There's a crash that interrupts Odin's rage.

The crash comes again, louder this time. There's a commotion to be heard just below in the courtyard.

"HUWARGH!" Odin bellows in dismay, most likely looking out his window. "What spectacle is this? The animals run amok below!"

"A snake in the stables, perhaps?" Frigga wonders. "I'll fetch a guard."

"Thor!" There's an urgent whisper and Thor lifts his head from his arms, blinking and struggling to breathe through a stuffed runny nose.

And there is Loki, his little brother, eyes bright in the low light of the hallway. His hand is outstretched and Thor flinches when Loki touches his face, a tender thumb wiping at his cheek.

"Brother," Thor sniffs and Loki shakes his head, puts an index finger to his lips.

"Shhsh!"

Loki takes Thor's hand, pulls him up. He tugs and tied by their fingers they're running down the halls back to their sanctuary. Then they're laying back against Thor's bed, out of breath. It is like they're speaking in pants of air until their hearts calm and the silence settles overtop them.

Thor swipes at his face with the back of his hand but it feels sticky. He hates to let his brother see him this way, in such a mess. He curls in on himself, facing away from Loki, feels humiliated and stupid. He should have just listened to father, stayed in his room.

"I won't tell if you don't." Loki mutters beside him, shifts, and Thor can feel his small elbow poking into his back.

"What did you do?" Thor grunts, sniffs loudly.

Loki just snickers, "Spooked Father's horses."

And Thor grips at the bed furs, thinking about what he's done.


Thor trails along behind his father as they walk through the private gardens. The sun is bright and casts sharp long shadows across the vibrant green grass that reminds Thor of his brother's eyes. He hangs back, walking in the near crown of Odin's shadow, wary of how he has been called out alone, Loki nowhere in sight.

He huffs and shoves small hands into pockets.

This is not the way to the vaults.

He remembers very clearly the previous weeks, when Odin had promised they could visit the treasure vaults on this special day. The anniversary of the day Odin placed the great hammer Mjölnir into his collection. Thor had been so excited, anticipating the visit, so that he may look upon his father's precious weapons and perhaps even... have one.

It is with a pang of dread which feels foreign to Thor that he realizes he is still to be punished.

For something so stupid.

He'd thought long and hard about it the night before, about what Odin had shouted about so loudly. But still he could not see the harm in what he'd done. Thor has shared baths with his friends before. They have grown up together, in a fashion. They did not live in the palace as Thor did, but they were Aesir of the royal city, and they were of similar age and passion.

They played together, and Fandral and Volstagg and Hogun weren't like Loki, who sometimes turned up his nose at Thor's games. The Warriors Three always wanted to play. Of course, they weren't real warriors, not yet, but someday they would all go into battle together. Thor relishes in his imagination that carries them so far away, on the adventures that surely wait for them in the future.

So, sharing and touching parts of his good friends is just another curiosity, another adventure, another game. Besides, when he'd reached out and grabbed Fandral's thing, Fandral had been waving it around, pretending he had a sword because he could make it bigger. The rest of them couldn't do it, and Fandral was being so annoying! It's only when Thor had tackled him and curled fingers around the 'hilt' that Fandral dropped his stupid act and squealed.

It was funny. And Thor doesn't see what's wrong with that.

Odin's robe wisps over the crisp grass, sweeping up fat hopping insects that jump around Thor's feet. A musical bug rasps its high-pitch song in the hedges as they pass, and Thor squints, looking up towards the sun. All too suddenly he has almost trod on his father's foot, who's stopped and staring across the gentle sloping landscape.

"Thor," Odin rumbles in his deep voice that Thor once so endeavoured. Now it sends waves of nausea crashing over him, makes him feel weak, wrong. He wants so much to fix it, whatever thing he's done. But doesn't know how.

"Thor!" Odin bellows and this time Thor snaps to attention, gulping against the thickness of the warm summer air.

"Yes, Father." He mumbles.

"Come here, boy." Odin commands and Thor trudges to his side, eyes downcast. "I've to teach you something, but your mother thinks you too young yet. I think differently and so you are to listen closely to what I have to say."

The wrinkles by his father's eyes stand out the most when it's sunny, like the giant feet of a crow had stamped on his face. Thor focuses on those lines instead of meeting Odin's grave expression.

"Thor. To lay with men is to bring shame upon the name Odinson."

"What?" Thor shouts, his stomach knotting violently, confusion rising like bile. "But— I haven't! I don't want to lay with anyone!"

Did he unknowingly lay with Fandral? Is that what it was?

Odin makes an annoyed sound and Thor feels his heart thump up into his throat until he is swallowing as if to force it back down. He has never had his father's wrath for anything, and it seems so stupid a thing to have it now. But it scares him, that both Odin and Frigga could think this so serious a crime. He must be guilty then, even if he did not feel wrong.

Odin passes his one eye over Thor then, as though he sees something different than what was previously there. Thor feels momentarily erased, like he has lost some shining innocence, as if some thing that made him special is wiped away.

"In time, you will heed this lesson. There are some truths only adults may know."

"I..." Thor pauses, feels stuck. "I'm sorry, Father. I will... try to do better."

Thor has never been compelled to apologize like this before. He hates it, loathes the humiliation and vulnerability it makes him feel. He's not yet experienced emotions like this so strong and it's difficult to discern anything past the hurt and betrayal that chokes him. But somehow, somehow, he must be wrong. If his father tells him so, it must be.

Odin does not acknowledge him, only turns on his heel and makes the long trek back up to the palace, leaving Thor behind.


They do not speak of it again.


Life goes on, by its own means, just as the sun crawls across the bright starry Asgardian sky.

Thor is having riding lessons with his favourite instructor. Dagur, a short man for an Aesir, makes Thor feel more like an adult because when he stands next to Thor, who's saddled onto his small pony, they are of the same height. He's got youthful eyes and a kind smile for a warrior, not so comparable to the temperamental boring old tutors Thor is usually burdened with.

Thor could spend all day with Dagur, just riding around, riding far away from the palace gates, just to waste the day on getting better. It's an odd little turn his imagination takes but Thor isn't bothered by it. Sometimes he just thinks about things like that.

"By the nine, Thor! You've gotten so much better."

Thor grins when he feels the warm pat on the small of his back after the successful lesson, elation swelling inside his chest. He's proud. Every good warrior needs a horse, and it feels like only yesterday he'd been falling off the back of his steed to land in the mud.

Thor feels excitement thrum in the pit of his stomach and he strokes his pony's blond mane.

"Can I ride the adults next?"

"So eager to grow up?" Dagur puts a finger under Thor's chin, tilts his head, and smiles as though he sees something amusing. Thor's heart thumps, sends blood rushing through his cheeks. He likes it when he can make accomplished warriors smile.

"If the Allfather thinks it appropriate, of course."

Thor squints, a sudden sourness springing up and he pushes Dagur's gentle hand away. The man snorts in amusement and returns to brushing his own horse as Thor slides from the pony's back. Its bushy tail swats at his thin arm and Thor pushes back short tousled blond hair, toes at a chunk of crusted dirt wedged against the shiny back of one boot.

The Allfather sits across the way, holding court outside at leisure with advisors that Thor knows only vaguely by number of wrinkles and how old they smell. Thor looks away quickly, realizing Odin had been watching.


The next time Thor goes to the stables for lessons he learns that Dagur has been replaced.


The way Odin looks at Thor now is different from before.

It is this transformation of adoration into something akin to suspicion in Odin's one-eyed gaze that makes Thor think about the things said behind that closed door. He thinks about the advice given, and how much he wants his father to be wrong instead. Thor's not wrong. It's not his fault he didn't know! And yet still he is punished.

He wants to know why, except Thor doesn't have much to go on, nothing but the words of his father and the weird unnamed feeling in his gut. He's going to be better, do things right, even if he doesn't know what to change. It's not like he actually wanted to lay with other boys, right? He'd never even thought of it, much preferring to play, to fight. Odin just... He just doesn't understand how Thor's imagination works. That it was only a game, and that thing in the baths that happened? It wasn't real.

Usually Thor would go straight to his father and ask any questions that troubled him. Now though, he knows the subject to be taboo. There is no one to turn to. Oh, but Thor cannot stand to be frowned upon!

He slips into the library one quiet afternoon, heart beating fast at the thought of finding some secret that could help him unlock this painful vice that his father's disapproval has bestowed. But each empty space between the rows of books is like a guillotine, threatening to chop off his head. Thor's all but ready to turn around when he finds Loki sitting amongst the stacks, two columns of old disintegrating books built up on either side of his small dark head as he leans against the cases.

Thor exhales, sends clouds of dust up into air as he plops down next to Loki, poking fun at the many sorcery titles, smiling when his little brother scowled. Soon the confusion and anxiety that cloud his mind part way and everything is okay again.

"What are you here for, Thor?" Loki asks, the question putting a halt to Thor's teasing as if a hot lump of coal was dropped into his lap.

"I don't know," Thor replies honestly. He doesn't feel wrong, just sitting here.

After that, he doesn't try to go back. Except when old near-sighted Berger the history tutor feels like going on a field trip.


The next time he meets with Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun, things are awkward.


It's nothing that Thor can pin down exactly, but he arrives in the shady green of the park to see the three of them in deep conversation (as deep as it can go, the most serious they'd ever spoken was of whether boar was better tasting than cow). Hogun and Volstagg elbow Fandral sharply and they drop into silence.

Thor feels as though he's being stared at, picked apart, a puzzle that's been rearranged. He doesn't like it. At all.

"What's wrong with you guys?" He announces in his best princely voice, which is actually just a louder version. "You're no fun today."

"Correction, Brother. They're like that every day."

Loki snickers at his own joke and Thor, who's normally annoyed by Loki's jibes at his friends, actually feels more righteous. He waits for Loki to fall in step beside him and then they're storming the Warriors Three fortress.

They play fight long into the evening, until the sky turns into a fiery opal curtain that almost seems to waver in the rare breezes of summer heat. They fight invisible monsters until they can no longer stand and fall to the ground out of breath, a simple defeat by victory. Thor lies on his back in the grass next to his brother, idly picking leaves out of Loki's hair, who had somehow managed to vanish himself and get stuck up in a tree for one hilarious moment. Loki rolls to the side and Thor smiles at the back of his head, sated.

He looks to the other side and Volstagg is rummaging in his large lunch pouch, looking for more food to snack on. Fandral is lying down too, a piece of too long grass in between his lips. He's got some leaves in his hair like Loki and when Thor reaches out to pick them, his hand gets slapped away.

"Don't touch me!" Fandral scoots away, eyeing Thor suspiciously.

Thor stares, uncomprehending. "What? Why did you do that?"

Fandral exchanges a guilty glance with Volstagg, who has found a large loaf of bread and is chewing very, very slowly. The crumbs in the front of his shirt tumble down like pebbles against a lake's rippling surface, getting lodged at the top curve of his substantial belly.

"You know why!" Fandral announces imperially, as if he somehow knows better than Thor. It makes Thor see red.

"No I don't!" Thor shouts back.

"Thor," Comes the imploring voice and he feels Loki grab his arm but shakes it off.

Thor grits his teeth, confused, "What did I do?"

"Sorry, Thor!" Fandral doesn't seem very chagrined. "You can't go around just—grabbing like that, you know?"

All of a sudden Thor feels very embarrassed. "Is this about—" The memory of the Warriors Three halting mid-conversation at the sight of him flashes into Thor's mind. He bares his teeth.

"This is your fault, Fandral! You blabbed to your mother about something stupid, and now it's gotten me into trouble!"

"Well er," Volstagg is shifty eyed between the two fighting blonds. "Truth be told, Thor, you are a little touchy..."

Thor gapes, "What does that matter?"

"It's weird!"

"Whatever," Hogun interrupts, unconcerned from his upside-down hanging position from a tree branch, "Fandral just told on Thor because his mother was going to lash him for coming home with such a big bruise on his behind."

Fandral turns red with embarrassment. "It's not my fault Thor's mom is a nosey wench!"

Thor growls and tackles him. "Don't talk about my mother like that! She is your queen!"

Fandral is flailing as they go rolling around. "Hey! That's not fair! Thor!"

By the time they're pried apart, Thor's got blood running from his nostrils and Fandral has two black eyes plus a bad limp.

Thor's blood in rushing around in a confusing, excited manner, and he angrily leads his little brother away from the grounds, not bothering to even wipe at the flowing red which stains the collar of his shirt as they stomp away. He doesn't turn around, doesn't want to see Volstagg and Hogun taking stupid Fandral's side. Thor has always known he was different to his friends, but he'd never before been isolated for it, condemned.

Loki kicks at the backs of Thor's heels until finally they stop, just behind the golden gates of the palace courtyard. Thor licks at the dried salty blood that coats his lips, flared nostrils burning. Loki sighs and takes his hand.

Thor doesn't want it, but Loki holds on.

He's dragged to the back of the stables. The indigo sky has a soporific effect as they sit amongst the hay. The horses are peaceful, lazily swatting the last of the day's flies. He hisses when Loki conjures some ice, his best magic spell, and places it upon the crooked tender bridge of his nose.

"He's just nervous," Loki says, dabbing gently with his too-long sleeve. "You know how Fandral is. This is his way of lifting himself up."

"By starting rumours of me?" Thor hisses again.

"By pushing you down."

"I am not so weak!" Thor grumbles, upset that anyone could think himself felled by a simple rumour.

"You aren't," And Loki smiles, just a small thing, looks at Thor with eyes so sincere that Thor melts.

"You are mighty, Thor."

But he feels the opposite of strong in the presence of such admiration, because he needs it so much.

He doesn't like this feeling, that he has no power over how others view him, that they will forever be rearranging him. Mixing him up, seeing something other than what he really is. Especially when Thor doesn't understand all that he is himself. All he knows is that there is a puzzle piece missing and the longer this goes the little empty space begins to fill up with confusion, guilt, self-loathing. The finished picture is falling away now, bit by bit.

Maybe that's just a part of growing up.

He resolves to keep his hands to himself.


It's still strained and Thor believes he'll have to find new friends, until the young Lady Sif joins their circle.


"What do you think? Pretty cute right?" Fandral says in sotto tones, as if he's been very clever.

"Yeah," Volstagg agrees. At first glance of the young blond girl he'd been smoothing his unruly red curls so much that they've begun to stick up more, crackling with static.

Sif walks the edge of the ring, dainty hand trailing overtop the old worn ropes that Hogun's tying up to mark off the boundary. It's an old jousting spot, abandoned for the new improved arena made of shining metal stands and gleaming white sand floors farther into the city. This one sat in the outskirts just before the grain fields and the distant swishes of long yellow reeds swaying in the wind sounded like they were right next to the water.

"What is she going to do, just watch?"

"Sorry I brought her along, but she wouldn't go anywhere else with me for a date. A maiden into fighting, who would have thought!"

Thor scowls, leaning back against the old wooden fence. He splits a long blade of the grain with the edge of his thumbnail. The dry furry bits at the end break off and go flying into the air. It's not that he doesn't like girls, only that they're almost always never interested in the same things as him. They just weren't as exciting, as boys and men and warriors were.

Lounging beside him, Loki seems to agree with this sentiment, though doesn't agree to having grain sprinkled in his hair. Thor absentmindedly flicks the bits off Loki's head, pausing after the fourth, wondering uncertainly if he shouldn't.

Loki makes a noise of discontentment when he stops though, and Thor continues, dropping the rest of the dried fluff just so his can run his fingers roughly into Loki's head and make him cry out. No one bothers with him, they're too busy making eyes at Sif. She ignores them all in favour of inspecting their small collection of weapons spread out on a greasy blanket.

"Alright!" Sif declares, holding up a huge spear. "Fandral, come along. Let's begin!"

"W-What? Uh, I don't think this is the way wooing is supposed to go..."

"Nonsense, perhaps she wants you to win." Volstagg whispers with a knowing look, as if he's not pretending to know more than he does.

The boys cajole Fandral with hasty sharp elbows until the blond boy is looking helplessly confused in the middle of the ring. As Sif proceeds to beat the tar out of her opponent, Thor grins. Alright, so maybe there's one girl he doesn't mind.


Odin and Frigga like her too.


"Are you sure you're not eloping?" Frigga asks for the millionth time, driving Thor crazy.

"No, mother!"

It's been years and years now that Thor, Loki, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif have been friends. And finally, finally, they are going on an adventure. A real journey to prove themselves not still children. Of course, every adult Thor knows thinks him not yet grown either, but once he came back victorious, they'd see.

"That's not what I've heard," Comes his mother's singsong voice again.

Thor sighs loudly, busies himself by stuffing a few more furs inside his travel bag. His chambers are a disaster, torn apart in search of his lucky dagger, lucky water pouch, lucky tunic. In search of everything. He's afraid he's going to forget something important with all this needless needling.

"Nooo." He drags out, kicking a table out of the way. It goes skidding across the stone floors to crash against the wall which in turn upends a few trinkets from the shelves. Blast it.

"Well pardon my curiosity," She titters, an amused look upon her face as she comes around, sparkling robes tinkling as she walks, "And mind your strength."

"Mother, you are curious over the silliest things. Sif is my friend." Thor says with great authority, hoping desperately it doesn't come off as whining.

It's not the first time people have assumed he and Sif are something of an item, as if they got up to more than just sparring and attending the same feasts. Maybe even Thor himself would have thought so, if he didn't know how sceptical he'd been about accepting her into their circle of friends. He and Sif are so similar though, it was more difficult to push her away than to become close.

"Just my friend."

Frigga leans an elegant hip against the bed frame, crossing her arms and cocking her head. "Usually young girls are not wont to go gallivanting all the way to Alfheim unless they plan to be married soon after. And who out of your band of boys is the most eligible?"

"Oh, I don't know." Thor rolls his eyes. "Loki?"

Frigga raises an eyebrow at the sudden bite in Thor's voice. But it's only the truth.

Loki is the most cunning of the group. Somehow over the years this has leant great confidence to Thor's younger brother. Loki is a skilled talker. He can talk to anyone and get them to do what he wants. Hogun always muttered about manipulation, but Thor couldn't agree. It wasn't Loki's fault that he was so naturally gifted with this charming quality. It wasn't Loki's fault so many maidens took to his word like buzzing bees, sticking to something sweet.

Thor's jealous, actually. In a distant, respectfully begrudging kind of way. And while he's always been the strongest, the first born, Thor knows that his parents respect Loki's intelligence, his regal demeanour, his tongue. Loki has all the makings of a man who will get what he wants, one day, and it seems to line up with their parents' wishes.

The thing about this jealousy though, is that Thor doesn't know what he wants. So it doesn't make sense really, to be jealous at all.