When Thor stands on the edge of the cradle, small, chubby hands gripping the railing as he stares down at this squirming thing, he can't help but frown before slowly reaching out his finger to poke at the child's forehead in a curiosity only befitting the now oldest prince of Asgard. Apparently, Mother had said it was called a "Loki", and this Loki happens to have soft skin and bright green eyes full of that same curiosity, and a look of horror at the giant blonde boy leaning over him. Of course, Thor doesn't stop to think that he might frighten it, instead ignoring the cries echoing in his parent's chambers as he grasps one small hand in his own to stop the flailing. A cool breeze fills the room, the curtains fluttering slightly with every gust, and a toothy grin stretches the boy's mouth. He likes this brother person, he decides as the crying stops and instead Loki coos, his grip on Thor's thumb tightening. That is, until Loki reaches up with his free hand to tug on Thor's blonde hair that is currently hanging over the two of them like a curtain (Mother said he should get it cut; Thor threw a tantrum), the strands becoming a tangle mess as the small child yanks on his hair with a giggle, his little feet kicking the air as if they couldn't possibly rest on the small mattress. With a yell, eyes brimming with tears though he will later deny it, he releases Loki's hand to pry his fingers apart and jump off the cradle, his small cape he insists on wearing fluttering in the wind in the process. He wipes at his eyes, glaring at the once more wailing child.
"Stupid," he pauses to sniff as the last of his tears were dried away, "little baby," the young prince decides as Loki continues to cry. Eventually, the noise draws Frigga from her much needed break away from her children, abandoning her weaving where it sat, and she scolds her oldest son before picking Loki up from his bed and pressing him against her chest, humming a soothing lullaby.
Once the blue-eyed boy realizes he is no longer needed, he leaves back to his chambers with a sour look that causes even the most audacious of servants to glance away as their young prince who will one day be king makes his way to his room. As best as a child his age can, he slams his door before crawling onto his bed to glower at the ceiling for a good ten minutes or so before boredom and restlessness kick in. His curtains are thrown wide, the midday sun shining brightly across his marble floor, the warm afternoon calling to his every bone. Though it is probably his imagination, he thinks the sun is shining on his toy army scattered around the room in different attack positions. Ceasing his pouting, he tumbles gracelessly to the ground before crawling over to pick them up and play with them. They've just returned from war with the Frost Giants, but there was a bigger, more pressing threat of some made up villain trying to take over the realms. It is a story he likes to play, and has been doing so for weeks, and it is far better than the annoying thing in another wing of the palace. How his mother and father can coo over such an atrocious being, he doesn't yet know, but soon Loki is gone from his mind as he gets lost in his game of pretend. One day, Thor knows, he will be just as great as his wooden toys, if not better. Soon he'll get his wooden sword to practice with, and then he can play pretend for real, and not just with large sticks found on the forest floor. Though he'll have to find a new princess, because the last time he had tried to coax Sif into doing so, she had thrown her stick at him, nearly taking out an eye as she stomped away with her arms crossed and her head held high. Perhaps he can order one of the servant girls to play with them, but he knows Mother would only tell him how it was rude to misuse his power and that he shouldn't force people to be friends with him but earn it.
Just as the plot thickens, the hero stepping in to sacrifice himself for the good of Yggdrasil, there's a soft knock at his door, and Thor's head snaps to it, the soldiers stilling in his hands. Without waiting for an answering call, Frigga pushes into his room, the small bundle tucked securely against her side. His mood is officially ruined, and returning to his pouting, he throws the toys down harshly, turning from her to glare at the floor and cross his arms across his lap. It's not fair. This was supposed to be his game, and he doesn't want either his mother or supposed brother to ruin it by ranting at him about morals and being a good little boy.
"Go away," he commands, trying to say so quietly but not suited for such things even now.
Frigga simply sighs, shutting the door behind her and coming to sit next to the petulant god. Thor only turns further away from her, staring at the wall, toys completely abandoned on the floor next to him, moving his arms to his chest. The blonde never signed up for a brother, and he doesn't want one. Especially one that cries and pulls his hair. Wasn't he enough? Shouldn't they prefer him over something that screamed and wailed at odd hours of night? Who didn't need constant care that took away attention from everything and everyone else?
"Thor, you have caused your brother to be upset. You know that small children do not understand the concept of right and wrong, but you do." The queen sends him a look once she has his attention once more, and the gaze makes him look down at his lap in guilt. His mother always has a way of doing that. He knows Loki cannot do much else than gurgle happily, cry, and only just learned how to crawl. For months, Thor hasn't gotten much of a chance to explore this new addition to their family, and when he finally did, it ended in a sore head.
"I'm sorry, Mother. Please don't make me stop seeing Fandral and Sif again," he nearly begs, turning to look at her again. The last time he had been in trouble, that had been his punishment, and he was far from happy to return to it again. "I'll play with him, I promise! And I won't yell either, or… or yank his hands away, or any of those stupid things I did." Thor hopes he can keep that promise, but he'll just have to find out later, when and if he winds up with nothing more than his rooms for entertainment. At another look from Frigga, he sighs and turns to Loki, scooting forward until his nose was close enough to almost touch the small one's cheek. He ignores the hand that immediately shoots up for his hair, besides the hiss that escapes his lips at the pain, and looks at him with as much sincerity as he could. "And I am sorry, little Loki. I did not mean to frighten you." He smiles broadly, placing a soft kiss to his forehead as his mother did, before leaning back again.
His actions make Mother's eyes crinkle with her smile as she bends down to kiss her eldest son on the top of his head. "Thank you, dear. Tread carefully not to hut him. He is your brother and your responsibility. Protect him; not harm him." She seems to be thinking of something else entirely, like it's more important than Thor thinks it really is, but he still nods enthusiastically.
"I promise. But can he play with me? Maybe he can defeat the dark lord!" Thor exclaims, a grin stretching at his lips. Chuckling, Frigga places Loki gently on the floor next to his brother, and after a moment of trying to recall how, he begins to crawl towards his brother before plopping himself down in front of the blonde. He picks up one of the toys, seeming to study it for a moment, before dropping it shamelessly to the ground. Thor resists the urge to shout at him and tuck all of his toys away before Loki destroys them all. He barely notices that the child is no longer an it in his mind, instead his little brother who he had sworn to protect. Now, Thor doesn't quite know what that means, but he's certain that if Mother mentioned it, then it had to be something good and important. Probably polite as well, knowing her. With a small, hopefully inaudible, sigh, the older son picks up his favorite warrior and presents it to Loki.
"Here," he says with a smile, though there is mild loss in his words, "you can have it." Of course, Loki doesn't understand words very well yet, but he seems to get the idea, taking the toy to… stick it in his mouth. Thor is left with his mouth hanging open in distress. Oh, having a brother is going to be hard.
He doesn't mind it so much when three months later; Loki's first words are his name, if he can decipher it between the mispronunciations of an infant. Thor beams down at him for it, and Loki only smiles with his few teeth and continues to repeat his name until their father comes in and raises a brow at the two, shooing Thor off to bed. Perhaps he can get used to this.
"They are awfully close, are they not?" Odin asks one evening, he and his wife sitting out in the gardens, taking a break from both duties as parents and rulers of Asgard.
Frigga turns to him with a small hum of acknowledgement. "Indeed they are, husband mine." The name has been a teasing one since they had first been married and Odin simply couldn't get enough of announcing that fact in nearly every conversation. As soon as she had brought it up, he only continued on only with more ridiculous pet names, and even now, centuries later, they cannot find it in themselves to stop. "As brothers should be." It is obvious that Thor loves his baby brother, even if he makes it known how much he dislikes the lack of attention that came along with him. Loki, on the other hand, positively adores Thor, having started to cry whenever he had to leave the other boy. Thor would look worried that he had upset him again, glancing worriedly at Frigga, before assuring him he would be back later, and he wasn't going to be gone forever.
"Aye," the All-Father agrees, nodding his head as he lifted his cup of mead to his lips. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, almost cautious about what he is about to say. "…our relations with Jotunheim would certainly benefit from a marriage if-"
Frigga cuts him off with a pointed glare. "Do not start talking about our sons as if they are pieces of some chess game. They are brothers, Odin. Whether they turn out to be more remains to be seen, but they are small children. Don't go about getting deluded ideas in your head again. They never turn out well for anyone."
Odin looks as if he is about to make some argument against that, but shuts his mouth in a resigned matter at the look his queen is giving him. A risen brow and pursed lips, a sure sign that if he says another word, she will be making use of the chambers that had been gifted her when they were first betrothed. She is right, he admits to himself begrudgingly, for the boys are still so young. Yet, he knows that were Asgard and Jotunheim to be brought together by the union of the realms' two princes, it would end much conflict between the two races. He shakes the thought from his mind, before it festers and he finds himself finding ways to make such a thing happen, and returns to talking about the affairs of the kingdom, and just how Frigga is fairing in all of this mess involving raising yet another child.
