A/N—First things first.

Disclaimer: I don't own Thor. That belongs to Marvel.

Note: I just want to thank everybody who reviewed Odin's Son, or put it or me on favorites/alerts. It really meant a lot. I loved writing Odin's Son, and it was a little rough completing it. But I had mentioned a sequel, and a sequel I'm going to deliver. So, to all my wonderful readers—A SEQUEL! Just another quick statement on this: it will change between Thor and Loki's POVs, because I just can't see it working any other way.

Summary: After Loki lets go, he falls to Midgard, where he tries to battle himself and find a way back to the brother he was so close to. Meanwhile, Thor mourns while on Asgard, and tries to find a way to discover if his brother is dead. Just friendship!

Please read/review!

willshakespeare-immortalbard

Thor's Brother

Thor cried himself to sleep.

The Midgard stars shimmered like fallen tears, and the black sea of the sky was filled with them, like dark eyes swimming with sorrow and loss.

"Thor?"

The door creaked open softly, and the blast of chill air swept through his dream of slipping fingers and brilliant supernovas, turning the stars below to jagged spears that reached up, ready to disintegrate the falling figure—

"Thor?"

The hands weren't strong enough to catch him as he fell to the floor. All they could do was slip the tangled blanket from his fallen form, pulling it away from the limbs that it entrapped.

"Do you want me to go get Mother?"

The fifteen-year-old's eyes were worried, the dark room enhancing the green, outlining the small red specks that appeared when emotion was strong.

"I—I think maybe you should."

"No."

"Thor!"

Someone tore his blanket off of him before smacking him roughly across the face. The voices in his Thor's head rose—

"You had a SON!"

"NO!"—

"Is there something wrong with me?"—

"I don't want to lose my brother..."—

—and another cold wind woke him.

Fandral froze in the action of reaching out to slap Thor again.

"Just go," Thor snapped, not letting Fandral speak.

"Are you going to scream like this every night?" Fandral asked, and despite Thor's obvious pain, there was amusement in his voice. "You're keeping most of us awake."

"No." He couldn't find it in him to say anything else. For every word he spoke, he heard that young voice in his ears, full of concern—

"Can I help? Please?"

The blanket was wrapped around him, and Loki struggled to lift Thor to his feet and back into bed.

"What was your nightmare about?"

"Screams. It's always screaming..."

"Just go."

Fandral didn't argue. He put the blanket back on Thor's bed, leaving it crumpled and disregarded. The warmth that flooded the room when he closed the door behind him had never hurt before, but it hurt now, as he snatched the blanket from the bottom of the bed and buried his face in it, breathing sharply and painfully, hoping desperately that the nightmare would come back, because for the first time in his life he hadn't dreamed about the screams, and anything was better than the voices ringing in his head.

"I love you, brother."

"Loki..." he choked, and it almost would have been worth it to just scream.

Thor cried himself back to sleep.