Will
Loki was sick.
Loki was often sick, of course, Thor knew.
"Prone to illness" due to his small size and fragile constitution, Mother would tell him when Thor would question why.
And so, Thor was used to it.
It was often he would take his little brother outside in the courtyards or gardens to play, and not half of the hour would pass before Loki would become dizzy and nauseas with the heat, needing to go back inside.
Often, if one hadn't been paying close enough attention, as Thor was want to sometimes do, more especially when he and his friends were together, Loki tagging along, straining himself to keep up, his little brother had even passed out from the heat.
Those times had always put an undesirable and unmentionable terror through the crown Prince, which he was rarely inclined to admit. And he would be so angry with himself for allowing it to happen. For not noticing how terribly Loki was struggling in the hot air, how badly the bright suns of Asgard were affecting him.
Sometimes, Thor, when he was feeling particularly bad about things like that happening, would blame Loki to absolve himself. Loki never said anything when he was feeling sick, was the issue. He never spoke up, never gave any real indication he wasn't feeling alright.
Certainly, Thor had by then learned to keep a look out for certain signs. Like excessive sweating, or labored breathing, or if Loki's usually quick, precise movement suddenly became sluggish and tired.
He just wished Loki would complain or what not when he wasn't feeling well, so that Thor wouldn't have to feel so guilty every time he turned around from roughhousing with Sif, or Fandral, or whoever it happened to be, and either find Loki about to fall unconscious, or already so.
Thor always felt a shot of unwanted panic course through him at those times, and he would run and scoop his too light brother up into his arms and race with him back to the palace, bringing him to the healing chambers crying for help.
It was common, these days.
Just like Loki getting sick. Small illnesses which came and went like the wind with the younger Prince, there one day, gone the next.
But… this time was different.
Thor wasn't stupid, despite often being teased as dull by Loki.
He knew this time was different.
He heard the adults talking. His parents whispering among themselves, and with Eir, the head healer. Talking about Loki in hushed, conspiratorial tones.
Loki was sick. Really sick.
Sicker than he had ever been before.
Thor hadn't yet been allowed to see his brother in the healing chambers.
It had all seemed to happen so quickly, was the thing.
Loki had woken up in the middle of the night, nearly two fortnights previous, and Thor had been woken by his terrible crying, screaming out that he couldn't see.
It had been an exaggeration. Loki hadn't gone blind, thank the gods, but his vision had been compromised, and made worse by a vicious dizziness which saw Loki unable to at all keep his balance and stay on two feet.
He was seeing everything in doubles or triples, his equilibrium completely out of sorts. When Thor had tried to help him off of the bed to walk him to their parents chambers, Loki had fallen immediately, crashing to his knees and flopping forward as though boneless.
Tears had been coursing down his face, and he'd been shaking as though freezing, and that was when Thor had gotten really scared. Loki never cried if he could help it, but then, it seemed, the tears were thick and refused to cease.
"My head h… hurts. My head hurts very b-bad Thor." He had wept, voice trembling and weak.
At that point, Thor hadn't wasted any more time. He'd taken Loki up in his arms and run with him to his parents.
From there, everything had seemed to deteriorate very quickly.
Loki hadn't been allowed to leave the healing chambers since that night, when he'd been quickly admitted. Thor not allowed in.
But he heard his parents. Heard them talking to each other, late into the night, talking to Eir. He would stand outside the door and listen.
They were saying Loki was so sick he might not make it.
Thor refused to understand what that meant at first.
Not make it?
Not make it from what?
Surely they didn't mean he wouldn't recover from this?
Loki, small and frail as he may be, always recovered.
He was tough. Wasn't he? He was tough as they came, Thor liked to tell his friends when they would laugh at his little brother's size and lack of endurance. He would tell them, though Loki had trouble keeping pace, it was the fact he tried so hard anyway which made him a great warrior and strong.
So Thor refused at first to understand what Eir and Mother and Father meant when they said Loki might not make it.
That was absurd! Of course Loki would make it.
He had to! He wasn't allowed to die.
Thor decided he was going to tell Loki so whenever he was finally given permission to go into the healing chambers and see him. He was going to tell Loki that, as his elder brother, Loki had to listen to him. Thor was the boss and Loki would do what he told him. And he would tell him he wasn't allowed to die.
It was that simple, really.
But, standing outside the healing rooms now, leaning against the double entries frame, peeking through the slightly ajar doors, he could see Loki across the space.
A tiny, still form lying motionless upon one of the many, great beds adorning the place.
Thor couldn't see him breathing from here, and a sickening, tight dread dropped suddenly down into the pit of his stomach, making him feel like he was going to throw up.
And as he watched his baby brother, so still and small and… and helpless…
Suddenly dread turned irrationally to anger.
He would get so angry sometimes at Loki for being so weak.
He would get angry, because he didn't understand why.
He didn't understand why Loki refused to get any stronger. Why he refused at all to grow bigger, like him and all the other children. Thor swore, Loki had remained the same, short height he was for at least the last century. Why he continued to be so small and weak and fragile. Why he wouldn't grow hale and healthy, and why he kept getting sick over and over and over again.
Odin was strong! Frigga was strong! He was strong!
Why wasn't Loki?
Why was Loki so… so different from the rest of them?
Thor didn't know the answers, and it made him mad. Furious, even.
Sometimes he… sometimes he wanted to grab Loki and shake him and scream at him that he had to get stronger, that he had to get bigger and hearty, or he wasn't ever going to be alright. Not in Asgard. Not in a place where the strength of your arm was everything.
Loki was too small and weak to even properly lift one of their wooden practice swords, for Odin's sake!
And Thor knew he couldn't always protect Loki.
He couldn't… he couldn't protect Loki now. And maybe that was what made him maddest of all, standing there, watching his little brother.
Watching his little brother die, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it!
He was the mighty Thor! He was the crown Prince and elder brother! He was… he was supposed to be able to keep Loki safe! He was supposed to be able to protect him from harm!
And yet he could do nothing but stand by and watch and worry himself into sickness, because he wasn't stupid, and he heard the adults, and he knew this time…
He knew this time, Loki might not make it.
Oh gods…
He looked back over his shoulder, checking the hallway beyond.
Empty.
He brought his eyes back around, looking again into the healing rooms, sight fixing on Loki.
And he breathed in, letting it go slowly, unsteadily.
He was tired of waiting. Tired of seeking permission.
He should be by Loki's side, damn it! He should be with his brother now!
He didn't care if he got caught and scolded. Loki needed him, and he wouldn't make his little brother wait any longer.
Checking over his shoulder once more to make sure, Thor finally squeezed between the crack in the doors, making sure to be quiet as possible, beginning slowly and cautiously towards where Loki lay.
He glanced about himself as he moved.
The rest of the chamber was empty now, no other patients, none sick or wounded, and the crown Prince felt a slight chill run down his spine.
He'd always hated the healing rooms. It spoke of sickness and death to him, and Loki was always here. Always, always, always.
Thor hated it.
He wondered why, if Eir was as great a healer as she was renowned to be, why she couldn't make Loki permanently better. Why she couldn't make Loki better now.
Eir had always been kind to him and Loki both. Always patient and kind. But Thor couldn't help the feelings of resentment he felt suddenly towards her.
She didn't seem very good at her appointed tasks to him.
Not when Loki was always so sick.
It seemed all too quickly, Thor had made it across the large space, and was standing now only a few feet from his brother.
Thor stared at him.
He wasn't awake.
He was lying there, naked except for a thin piece of cloth, covering his lower half. Some kind of mesh, almost transparent material.
Thor inched closer, feeling suddenly uncertain.
Scared.
His eyes traveled over Loki's unconscious form, and he frowned.
He hated how small Loki looked now.
Gods, he was so thin.
Thor had overheard his Mother talking heatedly with Eir the other day about their inability to get Loki to eat anything and keep it down. He was already regularly too skinny, already underweight and small. In the last, few weeks, he had apparently lost even more weight, and they all were beginning to worry terribly.
Thor understood why now, as he studied the almost sickening way Loki's ribs shown through his thin skin. How visible his collar bone was.
He looked like he might break if you touched him too roughly. Like he would shatter into a million, tiny pieces, and never come whole again.
Thor paused at that thought.
Loki had been telling him some months back about a spell he had been working on, trying to perfect.
Thor hadn't been paying very close attention. His mind always wandered whenever Loki brought up magic and mage craft and all that girly stuff. He didn't understand Loki's interest in it, truly.
But it had been something or other about being able to transform himself into a bunch of butterflies, or moths, or something, and rematerialize someplace else. Thor remembered Loki had been extremely excited, saying he was close, that he could feel himself close to being able to accomplish the feat.
Whether he had or not, Thor never knew. He had never bothered asking Loki about it again.
A sudden pang of guilt washed through him in that moment, suddenly terrified that he might never get the chance.
Suddenly, he wanted to know very much if Loki had been able to do it. He wanted very much to ask.
Thor continued to watch him, staring at the rise and fall of Loki's thin little chest.
He'd seen Eir and other healers rubbing some kind of lotion or liquid or whatever into it over the past, few days.
It seemed to Thor like maybe it was to help ease Loki's breathing. Each time they did it, the younger Prince's breath became less labored, more fluid and less shallow.
But now it seemed awfully shallow, and weak to Thor. And there was some horrible, wheezing sound, barely audible, coming from between Loki's lips.
Thor felt abruptly ill.
He noticed then Loki didn't seem to be doing very well in general.
His skin was deathly pale. Even more so than usual. His normally pink lips were now ashen, almost grey in color. And his entire body was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, his long, black hair plastered and matted against a glistening forehead.
He looked incredibly uncomfortable. Like maybe he was in pain.
Thor bit his lip, feeling an unwanted stinging at the backs of his eyes.
He looked around, gaze moving over different bottles and formulas lining the shelves around Loki's bed.
He didn't know what any of them did, what any of them were for.
But he felt so helpless, just standing here, watching, sensing, knowing Loki was suffering.
He thought about going and finding one of the healers to help. But he stopped short on that thought, knowing that if he did, his visit with Loki would be over before it had even, really begun.
And suddenly, his eyes fell upon the familiar bottle he'd seen them using for Loki's breathing.
Without thought, Thor reached out, taking it up between his thick, little fingers, studying it a moment.
There was some kind of rune language written along the label which he couldn't read.
Loki would be able to read it, he was sure.
But he recognized the bottle, and one more glance at Loki, his breathing having in the last minute seemed to become even more weak and difficult, Thor made the quick decision to act.
Unplugging the cork, the crown Prince brought the bottle to his nose, sniffing.
His face curled up at the bitter smell, but it didn't deter him.
He had no idea how much to use, but he thought it would be safer to go with a small amount for now.
Turning the bottle over, above his cupped hand, he watched as some sort of thick, white gunk came drizzling out of it, pooling in a small pile in the center of his palm.
He waited until he was certain he had a good enough amount before replacing the bottle on its shelf, and turning back to Loki.
Still, the younger Prince's breathing was hard, and Thor waited not a moment longer before stepping closer, rubbing his hands together, and reaching out.
He nearly gasped when his palms pressed across Loki's chest, and he felt the heat radiating off of his skin.
Loki's skin was always so curiously cool, almost cold to the touch. But now it felt like he was burning up, and a rush of dizziness seemed to take Thor at the wrongness of it.
He pushed the discomfort away, and began working the lotion into Loki's chest, rubbing it in deeply as he'd seen the healers do, until it was completely vanished, only a glistening of its remnants showing against Loki's thin, tight skin.
Thor watched in anxious anticipation to see if it would work.
Several, long minutes seemed to pass without any change in Loki's breathing, and Thor felt his heart begin to sink, thinking he'd failed.
But then, very suddenly, he noticed a change.
It wasn't much. Loki's breath still came labored and still, a slight wheeze emanated from his lips. But it grew less pronounced, and the rise and fall of his little chest appeared to grow more fluid and steady, not the quick, shallow movement of before.
Relief washed through Thor, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he sunk into the chair beside the bed and reached out, taking hold of Loki's hand, cupping it between his own.
He studied that hand.
It was so small. Engulfed by his own, larger ones.
But Thor had always secretly admired Loki's hands.
They were small, yes, but they were long and thin and elegant. Thor's own were thick and almost stubby. Ugly, he thought, compared to Loki's.
For a long while, he only sat there like that, holding onto Loki's hand, trying to ignore the way the younger Prince's heated skin bothered him.
He kept hoping Loki's eyes would open. That he would wake up so that he could talk to him, and ask him questions and tell him… tell him everything was going to be alright. That… that he was going to be alright.
But Loki wasn't even moving besides the rise and fall of his breathing.
He was still as a statue, and Thor felt himself growing more and more uneasy as the minutes passed.
Oh gods, what if Loki really didn't make it?
Thor didn't know what he would do. He didn't…
He didn't think he would be alright without his little brother.
He…
He knew he wouldn't be alright.
He needed Loki.
He needed him.
And suddenly it all became too much.
Thor leaned over, feeling the stinging returning to his eyes with ten times the insistence of before. And he couldn't help it as at once, his vision grew blinded by a thick film of wetness, and he'd sunk until his forehead was pressed against Loki's bare chest.
He began to weep.
"Oh Loki, Loki…" he cried helplessly, still holding onto his hand. "Why can you not get better? Why can you not heal yourself with… with your magic? Your magic is powerful. I know… I know I tease you about it Loki. I know I do…"
A small sob escaped past his lips.
"But… but they say… they say you have more, innate magical energy in you than has ever been seen in any Aesir. More than any, known being in the Nine Loki."
Thor bit his lip, trying to control his rapidly erratic breathing.
"So why can you not heal yourself? Why can you not make yourself strong and healthy like me?"
Thor knew it was a silly question.
It was true, Loki had a greater abundance of magical energy within him, naturally, than had ever before been seen. He was special. And he'd shown a greater aptitude, a greater understanding of that energy than should have been possible for someone as young as he.
But still, Loki was young.
Just a child.
And healing magic was notoriously difficult to master.
Loki hadn't yet learned the craft, wasn't yet able to heal even a scrape or a bruise, let alone a sickness which had taken hold his insides and ravaged him so completely.
Thor despaired.
Loki wasn't going to get better, was he?
He was…
Oh, gods, he was going to die, wasn't he?
And it would be all Thor's fault. He was supposed to protect his little brother. He was supposed to keep him safe, and alright.
He was supposed to…
It became too much, and Thor began to weep openly, sobbing loudly against his little brothers chest.
He didn't know for how long he'd stayed like that, crying and pleading for Loki to wake up, begging him to get better. To not die.
He didn't know how long.
Only that he was startled when he felt a soft movement across the top of his head, and he looked up quickly, blinking rapidly to clear his vision as he gazed upon Loki's face, and saw the younger Prince staring back at him.
Loki had reached up, brushing thin fingers through Thor's hair, the touch so delicate, Thor almost hadn't felt it at all.
And now Loki's hand fell away, arm dropping as though sapped of all strength, hand curling loosely against his thin chest.
He stared up at Thor, his normally brilliant, green eyes dulled and glassy, glazed over as though he were staring through a fog. What would usually be a discomfortingly sharp, alert gaze now unfocused and lost.
"… Th… Thor?" His voice drifted up, almost soundless it was so soft. Brittle and cracked.
It took a moment for Thor to compose himself enough to speak back, and he nodded, trying hard not to let himself go and begin sobbing again.
There was nothing he could do about the tears still coursing down his flushed cheeks.
"Yes Loki." He said.
He felt great relief, to see his brother had woken.
That relief was tempered by the lack of vitality he saw in the younger Prince's eyes.
Loki stared back, quiet a long, few seconds.
He blinked slowly, as though trying to clear his own sight.
And then suddenly he uncurled the hand against his chest and reached up again.
His movements were so frail and weak, it seemed he was moving in slow motion, Thor thought. And without thinking, he reached back, taking hold of Loki's hand, curling his own around it and bringing it to his face.
"… Thor?" Loki repeated, and again, Thor nodded, unable to help the small sob which forced its way from his throat.
Loki's brow furrowed in confusion, his small, delicate face pulled in the expression.
"You're crying." He said, voice still so soft.
Thor's other hand came up, and he wiped the back of it against his eyes, trying to stop the tears.
But they refused to yield.
He nodded, looking away from his little brother's eyes.
"Yes," he answered. "yes, I am… I am sorry brother. I did not mean to lose control of my emotions like that. It is only that I am worried for you."
Loki was quiet for a long moment, and Thor dared to look back up to him.
Loki was staring back still, his expression having shifted into one of concern.
Until finally, slowly, he shook his head, the motion seeming difficult for him.
"I am alright brother." He said. "I promise, you needn't worry."
Oh, Loki, Loki…
Did he not know?
Did he not understand?
That seemed unlikely to Thor. His little brother was so smart. He was so, so smart. It seemed like he always knew everything.
Thor forced a weak smile, the expression quickly fading as he looked back at Loki, nodding half-heartedly.
For a few minutes more, they looked back at each other, Thor still holding Loki's hand to his face, Loki staring up into his eyes with his unflinching gaze.
Before abruptly, he turned away, and he began coughing severely, his entire, tiny frame shaking uncontrollably with it.
Thor panicked, hearing Loki gasp sharply as he sucked in air, trying desperately to get breath to his lungs.
The elder Prince reached forward without thought, pushing his hands beneath Loki's shoulders and lifting him up off the bed.
Still, Loki continued to cough, even as Thor helped him bend at the waist, pressing a hand against his back, feeling the tremors run unrelentingly through his body.
Oh, gods, he was so frail. He felts so small and insubstantial beneath his hands.
The crown Prince lost all reason when he saw the spatters of red spray from between Loki's thin, colorless lips, landing in too bright droplets against the lone sheet of gauzelike material across his hips, catching and hanging in a mixture of saliva off of his lower lip.
Blood.
Oh gods, blood…
"Loki!" Thor cried, completely overtaken by horror.
He didn't know what to do!
He thought briefly that he should run, fetch a healer.
But then, what if he left and Loki… Loki…
He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.
"Loki, please!" He implored.
It was several minutes more before the coughing fit seemed to dissipate somewhat, until it was naught but the occasional hack, and Thor felt all the tension sap out of Loki's frame, and he sat, limp and boneless, sitting up only by virtue of the elder Prince holding him thus.
"… Thh… Th-Thor?" Loki's voice sounded, if possible, even more fragile and quiet than before. "I… I want to lie down n-now. Let me lie down?"
Thor nodded, chastising himself inwardly for not realizing he was keeping Loki up, slowly lowering him onto his back again.
Loki's lips were smattered in flecks of blood still, and he stared up at Thor with even more distant eyes.
Thor's vision blurred with thick tears which he didn't even bother to try and stop now.
He reached down with a shaking hand, pushing damp, sweat-slicked locks off of Loki's pale face, pushing it back and letting his fingers drag gently across the younger Prince's scalp.
Loki watched him, his own hand coming up, dragging sluggishly across his mouth, smearing the droplets of blood across his own cheek.
"… Don't… cry… Thor…" he managed. "Don't cry."
It only drove the crown Prince to cry harder.
"Oh Loki, Loki, little brother…" he sobbed, crumpling down, burying his face between Loki's shoulder and neck. "Do not die Loki. Do not die. You…" he hiccupped, chocking on his tears.
A thought suddenly came into his head. It might have seemed stupid to Thor otherwise. Irrational and silly and romantic. That was Loki's area. Thor didn't dream of silly, impossible things like his little brother did.
But he was desperate.
He was so desperate.
"You promised, you promised, remember, that you wo-would… you would take me someday to see the stars. You said you could bring me to see a stars birth. Loki, you cannot… you cannot renege on such a promise now! You said you knew a way, and I… I w-won't let you die until you have fulfilled it!"
It was quiet for a long moment, and Thor felt a rush of dread through his insides, looking up abruptly from where he'd buried his face, thinking the worst.
But then he caught Loki's eyes, still staring back at him, and he had the faintest, little smile curling his lips.
"… I see the paths Thor." He said weakly, voice nothing more than the quietest of whispers. "I need only…" he paused, seeming to run out of breath, eyes closing a moment.
"Loki!" Thor cried, hand tightening around his little brother's.
But then Loki's lids came back open, finding Thor again.
"I n-need only find the way to s-step upon them." He finished. "I see them, and wh… when… I… f-find the way, I will take you Thor, to w-witness the birth of s-stars. And th… the death too."
"Do not talk of death Loki." Thor shot, voice harder than he intended for it to be.
Loki's eyes slid away.
"All things die Thor." He said. "Ev… even gods."
"No!" Thor protested. "Do not speak such brother! I order you!"
And Loki looked back, smiling again. That damned, knowing smile of his, like he held some secret you could never, possibly hold yourself.
"Loki, you promise me…!" Thor began, demanding.
"You promised t-too Thor." The younger Prince interrupted suddenly. "You said you wo… would take me to Alfh-heim. You said you would take me to s-see the Light Elves and their la… their lands. Remember? I fully ex… expect you to keep your word brother. I want… I want so badly to s-see their lands. They have such great… great magic there Thor. Such amazing magic…"
Loki's voice was slurred and slow, growing weaker, eyes dulling further.
Thor nodded.
"I will Loki." He said, his own voice strong and loud by comparison. "I will take you to Alfheim. But you must promise me now, you must promise me brother, that you will not die. Promise me Loki!"
Again Loki smiled, just barely, looking up at his older brother still.
A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye, trailing slow down the side of his face.
He nodded near imperceptibly.
"I promise Thor." He said.
And then he drifted back to unconsciousness.
And Thor sat by him for hours, until he succumbed to sleep himself.
/
Nearly a full month later, Loki's fever broke.
Within a few days of that, he was able to sit up under his own power.
Mother and Father were calling it a miracle. And so was Eir.
They had been certain Loki was going to die. So sure, they had already begun preparations for such an event, trying without success to keep Thor ignorant.
And now they were beyond ecstatic, filled with shock and pleasant confusion.
Thor was the only one not surprised by Loki's recovery.
When his Mother asked him why, Thor had only grinned at her and said…
"Loki promised me he wouldn't die."
Mother had only looked at him with further uncertainty, and that was alright with Thor.
Even if she didn't understand, he did.
Loki always kept his promises.
And even if Loki's body was weak and small and frail, that was alright too, because Thor knew there was no other being in all the Nine Realms with a will to match that of his little brother.
And so Thor knew, no matter how sick or broken or hurt Loki became, his brother would always be there.
Because of his will.
Because his will made him strong when his body wouldn't.
Because Loki's will made him stronger than all of them.
/
AN: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this little one shot of mine. It was just an idea which popped into my head last night, and I just sort of busted it out here.
I imagine Loki as having been a pretty frail child, who had a lot of health problems growing up, and I thought it would be interesting to explore that, and to explore the impact that would have on Thor, who's so fiercely protective of his brother. What would Thor do and feel in a situation where he was faced with an enemy he couldn't protect Loki from? In this case, illness.
I also imagine Thor is so fiercely protective of Loki precisely because he was smaller and weaker and more fragile growing up than the other children, and it just sort of was ingrained into Thor, that he needed to be more careful around Loki than others.
The two of them here are, in my canon, several centuries old, but in terms of what that makes them equivalent to humans, I'd say Loki's probably around four or five, and Thor's probably around nine or ten.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and I would hugely appreciate any reviews!