Loki huffed, wrestling with the heavy feed sack and trying to lift it high enough to get the opening into the barrel. Thor was sweeping the floor, keeping his head stubbornly down. The horse stood between them, chewing on a bit of hay and ignoring them.

"I can't believe you told him it didn't count as punishment!" Loki said sourly, ducking his head to his shoulder and wiping the sweat from his brow. He could smell his own sweat, and his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I didn't mean to! It just slipped out," Thor mumbled. He looked as displeased to be sweeping as Loki was to be enduring physical labor. They often received the punishment of cleaning the stables for their mischiefs, but Thor had made the mistake of mentioning to Odin that it had become an almost enjoyable task—after all, it never took too long when Thor did the heavy lifting and Loki did the sweeping and tidying. Odin had ordered that they switch jobs. Now it was the hellish punishment it was meant to be.

"Would he even know if we switched back?" Thor mused aloud. Loki grunted and finally got the sack high enough and seed began trickling into the barrel.

"He would," Loki said. Sometimes his brother's thought process—or lack of one—astounded him. How could Thor be nine already, and Loki still be smarter than him? He was only seven! "You would be smiling because you can't control yourself. I wouldn't be all sweaty and disgusting like I am now. Besides, Heimdall's a snitch."

Thor nodded reluctantly and went back to sweeping, leaving lines of clean stone amidst the dust. Loki watched him for a moment. He leaned forward on the barrel, letting his shoulder and hip press against the rough wood, sighing as it relieved some of the weight of the feed sack from his aching back.

By the time Loki realized how far in he was leaning, it was too late. He scrambled in an attempt to grab the edge of the barrel that was already halfway to the floor; he missed utterly. The barrel landed with a tremendous thud, seed spilling out over most of the stall.

The horse bucked, its hooves swinging wildly. Loki froze as he saw Thor's eyes go wide and the broom fall from his hand.

A hoof struck Thor's temple.

He went down hard, and there was a low crash as his body hit the floor.

Loki lunged for his brother, and there was a sickening thunk as a hoof collided harshly with his back. Loki grabbed at the horse's neck the moment that its hooves hit the ground, sending a wave of magic through his hand.

Calm. Calm. Calm. He murmured the spell under his breath and focused, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. The magic became calming and cool. Loki let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding when the animal settled, standing drowsily and moving away from them to the other end of the stall. He could feel himself trembling.

His back really hurt. But Loki was quickly distracted by the sight of the rivulets of blood that had started to trickle down the side of Thor's head from the wound on his forehead. It was soaking into his golden hair, and growing sticky. The spot had already swelled into a lump of a quite alarming size.

Thor was much, much too still, and his eyes were shut. The sight of his unmoving form and the blood made Loki's throat constrict dangerously.

When something is bleeding, you put pressure on it as soon as you can, and the bleeding will stop.

The thought flooded his mind, a snippet from a conversation with his family's personal healer, Otnoa. She'd said it to him a few days ago, as she bandaged his scraped knee. Loki pressed his sleeve to Thor's forehead and found it was rapidly soaked with blood.

Loki pressed harder, now with both hands, but it didn't seem to be helping. A whimper tore itself from his lips. He was shaking still, and he could feel his breathing getting faster and faster. That wasn't a good sign.

"M-Mother!" Loki cried, as loud as he could, but there was no one around to hear him.

"...Heimdall," he begged aloud. He could almost see Heimdall's eye moving to him, to the scene. "Heimdall, please—get Mother." He did his best not to choke on the sob that was growing in his throat, clenching his teeth and trying his best to keep the pressure consistent.

The horse was growing antsy again at the sound of his yelling. He needed to stay calm. He took a deep, shuddering breath and focused on his hands. You can do it. You can do this, Loki, just breathe. All you have to do is keep your hands there until Mother comes. You can do it.

A/N: Please review! This story updates weekly on Sundays.