AN: Title from the Fleet Foxes song of the same name-it just fits them so well. This turned out more depressing than I meant it to. You know how it is…you're having a perfectly nice day, then you take a Loki to the Feels. :(
Thor looks at his little brother and wishes dawn would come faster. Loki will be fine-it looked worse than it really was-but he wants him looked over, just to be sure. Just because Loki said it will be fine does not mean that's the truth. He has a habit of leaving things out, such as, 'I'll be fine…if I'm treated within twelve hours' and 'it's just a scrape…with a poison arrow'.
Though to be fair, that last had become obvious very quickly, when he passed out mid-step.
He sighs and resumes petting Loki's hair. He's asleep, he can't complain.
This is his fault, really. If he'd been quicker, just a second quicker, maybe his brother wouldn't be lying here with his chest torn up by the beast's claws.
"Stop that."
"Go to sleep."
"Stop destroying my hair."
His duty as an older brother states that he must now ruffle the hair in question, and he does so.
"Stop it."
"Make me."
A weak zap hits his thigh and he winces, earning a smug chuckle.
"I told you."
"Don't waste your energy."
"I'll be fine."
Then why isn't he fine now? He's pale-well, paler than usual-and shivering, which is simply unnatural.
"Still."
Loki sighs and closes his eyes again.
"If I'm not fine…"
"Don't say that."
He is ignored.
"If I'm not fine, you may have the unicorn horn from my room."
Thor shakes his head fondly.
"What about the dragon scale?"
"You can't have that."
"You won't need it!"
"Regardless, no."
"Loki…"
"Horn or nothing."
"Fine."
He looks at the unicorn's horn, sitting on the mantelpiece. It would make a fine spear-why Loki never bothered is a mystery.
"I could have done it, Father!"
He can't be gone. It simply is not possible. He will not accept it, not until they find proof.
And so the horn stays where it always has, shimmering in the firelight. Thor reaches out to brush his fingers against it, half-expecting to hear his brother hiss, "Don't touch it, you idiot!"
But the hiss doesn't come and he touches it at last.
It's…different…than he thought it would be. Smooth as glass, but it does not feel like glass.
He lets his hand fall.
Oh, Loki…
He should go, maybe take a walk or see how his mother is faring. But his limbs do not wish to carry him anywhere and he ends up in the chair by the hearth, head cradled in his hands.
He'd give anything to know why.
He'd give everything to have him back.
But there's nothing he can give and here he stays, staring at everything and nothing until tears blur his sight.
"I only ever wanted to be your equal!"
You were my equal, Loki. Always.
THE END