I... kind of forgot I had an account here. Anyway, just crossposting this from ao3. :)
It was Loki's wedding day.
He stood before Odin, before the whole of Asgard, and beside his brother.
His brother.
While Loki held no great love for Thor, he was still raised with the brute. Together they had grown from babes to boys, from boys to men, all under the watchful eyes of their oh-so-loving parents. Yet Odin stood before them now, binding them eternally in marriage, without so much as batting an eyelid. Frigga stood to the side in her voluminous red gown, jewels around her neck and on her fingers, looking as serene and beautiful as Loki had ever seen her.
Loki had, of course, forgotten that he was never really part of the family in the first place. How foolish of him. Why should they care that Loki didn't want this, that he couldn't bear the thought of Thor's arms around him, Thor's kisses on his lips? He was no child of theirs, and if their beloved golden son wanted the Jotun criminal in his bed, why should they complain? Thor was one of the only people on Asgard who could truly control Loki. With his magic bound within him, Loki could not fight his brother.
He felt Thor's hand wrap around his wrist, squeezing it gently as Odin blathered on. Loki made no attempt at discretion when he yanked it back. Let all of Asgard know of his hatred. Thor, unperturbed, gave him what was clearly his attempt at a comforting smile. If Loki had his magic, he'd have melted his face off.
The ceremony was coming to an end, and Loki turned his attention back to the king. Odin was saying the final words, the words that would sentence Loki forever. Thor was watching him closely, intently, as though waiting for Loki to make his escape. Loki knew there would be no escape, not now. He was trapped.
"From this day forth, I, Odin Allfather, pronounce you united by the eternal bonds of matrimony."
There was silence. Loki stared at his boots, the weight of the king's words reverberating through him. It was done, whether or not he consented to it in the first place. It was done.
He felt more than saw Thor lean towards him for the customary matrimonial kiss. He turned his head away, blatantly rejecting his brother. Thor merely gave an annoyed little growl at the show of disobedience. He put an arm around Loki's shoulders, tugging him into the kind of embrace he used to give Loki when they were younger – the kind that usually meant Loki was about to be subjected to vigorous hair-rubbing, while he struggled and Thor laughed. This time, however, Thor simply pressed a kiss to his hairline, then released him.
There was polite applause from the audience, but Loki did not look at them even as Thor turned to bask in their attention. It was Thor's grand moment, Thor's victory, not Loki's. Never Loki's. He felt Thor's firm hand grab him by the wrist, tugging him forward. Resistance now would only make this even more of a spectacle, and he had no desire to be forcibly dragged along by Thor's superior strength, once again proving his own inferiority. So Loki went quietly. He was led by his brother into the feasting hall, where celebrations would no doubt go well into the night. Celebrations for whom, Loki was uncertain. The people of Asgard were no happier about his return than he was. No doubt they celebrated the taming of wicked, monstrous Loki by their mighty Golden Prince.
Thor led him over to the feasting table, then released him in favour of pulling out Loki's chair. Loki gave him a withering look. But Thor merely rolled his eyes, taking it good-naturedly. He stepped back and allowed Loki to seat himself. How magnanimous of him.
The oaf clunked down next to Loki like a sack of potatoes, immediately piling food onto his plate, tearing into it with unseemly enthusiasm. Thor had always lacked even the most basic of manners. Yet somehow that was seen as quintessentially masculine, the mark of a warrior. Personally, Loki could see nothing particularly impressive about it when a piece of meat flew from Thor's mouth to land on Loki's sleeve. He brushed it off with a look of disgust.
The feast was much the same as all of Asgard's feasts. There was food flying everywhere, mead sloshing all over the tables and floor, and increasingly-intoxicated warriors boasting loudly of their outrageous victories. Loki ignored the way they hollered and catcalled at them, the way they always did a newlywed couple. Thor was engaged in an animated conversation with the Warriors Three, and kept banging the table and laughing deafeningly near Loki's ear. Lady Sif looked tight around the eyes and kept shooting Loki suspicious glances, but she too joined in the festivities with gusto, mead dribbling down her chin as she laughed.
As soon as Odin and Frigga retired for the evening, Loki got up as well. Thor grabbed him by the hand.
"Stay, Loki! Feast with us!"
"Goodnight, your Highness," Loki said coldly. He yanked his hand out of Thor's, turning and stalking out of the hall. He could feel mistrustful eyes following him as he went.
Just as Loki was turning the corner to his own chambers, he heard Thor call his name. He clenched his fists, lips curling back from his teeth. Slowly he turned, giving Thor a dark look, but the fool walked towards him with all the arrogant confidence in the world. He seemed happy, despite the servitude he had forced Loki into.
"What is it?" Loki hissed. Thor did not even blink at the venom in Loki's tone.
"You will no longer be sleeping in your old chambers," Thor said. His brows furrowed when Loki's expression shifted to one of disgust.
"I see. I suppose you cannot wait to mount your little whore-"
"Loki!" Thor looked thoroughly taken aback. "Do not speak so. You will have your own chambers. I have simply moved them closer to mine."
"Easy access?"
"Loki!" Thor admonished again, scolding him as though he had the right. "You are ever my brother, ever a prince, and you will be treated with the dignity of your rank." Loki snorted. Thor paused, his face shifting uncomfortably, any hint of anger or irritation being quickly replaced by a look of discomfort. He clumsily forged on, watching his brother's face carefully, knowing very well that he was treading on thin ice. "We are wed, brother, but there are some in Asgard who still bear you a grudge."
"You really thought marrying me would solve that?" Loki snorted derisively. Thor ignored him.
"I know it is not what you desired, but…" He frowned, his hands fidgeting as they so often did whenever a conversation grew difficult. He shook his golden head, squaring his shoulders and speaking once more with a decisive finality that made Loki want to throttle him. "It is for the best. I moved you for your safety, brother. I will rest easier, knowing that I will be nearby should anyone try to harm you during the night."
"Oh, my hero."
Thor made no response, instead offering his arm to Loki so that they may walk together like man and wife. Loki stared at the offending limb until Thor retracted it, his brows furrowing again. He beckoned, and Loki had no choice but to follow him unless he wanted to spend the night sleeping on cold stone. He glared daggers at the back of Thor's head.
"Here we are," Thor said, pushing open a large wooden door, turning to smile at him and beckon him inside. Loki stalked past, head held high. He was… pleasantly surprised. His chambers were large and spacious, and there was not a scrap of red or gold, nor a bear-skin rug to be seen. Instead, it was elegantly furnished in soft shades of green and silver. There were several large book cases already filled with his books, a sturdy writing table, comfortable-looking chairs scattered about, and an enormous four-poster bed in the corner. There was a door leading into a large dressing room, and another into a private bathing room. It was… pleasing.
"Do you like it?" Thor asked. Only now did Loki realise the oaf had been watching him intently.
"It will do," Loki said. The oaf seemed to take this as the highest compliment, his face splitting into a huge grin.
"Then I shall leave you to it. Goodnight, dear brother." He hesitated, then reached out to embrace Loki, who moved backwards abruptly. He even had the gall to look disappointed. No one had ever denied mighty Prince Thor what he wanted, Loki thought sourly. "May I not have a kiss?"
"Not unless you plan to take it through brute force," he replied coldly. It was best to deal with such a confrontation as soon as possible when it came to Thor, all tact and subtlety thrown out the window. And, though he hated to admit it, Loki could not stand the thought of waiting, could not stand the uncertainty it would bring. Better to know what he was dealing with early on.
"I would never force you." Thor had stepped back, a horrified look dancing across his face as though it had only just occurred to him what position he had placed his brother in. His stupidity was astounding, but he was not a malicious man. "You will always have a say, Loki."
"Oh indeed?" Loki glanced around pointedly. Thor sighed.
"Believe me, Loki, if there were any other way…"
"To do what, exactly? I fail to see how forcing me to marry you was the only possible solution to our predicament."
"It is the only way I can keep you safe." The oaf had his most princely expression on as he said it, no doubt marvelling at his own nobility. Loki was unimpressed.
"Yes, because I have always been in such desperate need of your protection, delicate little flower that I am."
"I know it is… not what you desire." Thor looked away, the corners of his lips turning down. When he looked back, however, he seemed to have pushed any doubt to the side, and was as self-righteous as ever. "I would not have forced this on you if I had any other choice, but you left me none. This is the only way I can guarantee your safety, and ensure you inflict no more harm on others."
"If you expect me to believe your intentions honourable, you are a fool. You are a selfish man, Thor. You always have been."
"I do not claim to be perfect, brother."
Loki laughed aloud at that.
"Loki," Thor said growled. "Let me finish. I am not perfect. But I would not inflict such unhappiness on you without good reason. You must know that."
"Must I indeed?"
Thor made a frustrated noise, then jerked forward to put his hands on Loki's shoulders, turning him around. "I do not take pleasure in your distress. You know how I love you, Loki."
Loki stared at him, raising one elegant brow. He did know. He had always known, for he was far too clever and Thor far too stupid to conceal, or even realise, his own feelings, fickle and conditional as they were.
Thor had always watched him with the protective gaze of an older sibling, but at some point during their youth Thor's glances had changed, so minutely it was almost imperceptible, but changed nonetheless. Thor himself had not noticed, and Loki had not realised quite what it meant. But blue eyes would trace Loki's lithe frame, the warmth in them not entirely fraternal.
Then they had grown apart, and Thor's glances were dismissive before he stopped looking at Loki all together. He occupied himself with his idiotic friends and a long string of wenches. Loki was ever-present, but he had stopped really looking at him. He never noticed the distance that had grown between them, did not notice when Loki spent less and less time in his company. Yet somehow he did notice the elven ambassador's hand running up Loki's thigh at dinner one night and reacted explosively. He looked on his brother almost as a possession, there whenever Thor wanted him, but of no interest when he did not.
Loki had thought the warm look in Thor's eyes had faded forever. When they fought on the Bifrost, there had been no trace of it. Thor's affections for his mortal woman had dampened any residual love for his brother. He had chosen her, had fought the brother he had known and supposedly loved for millennia to protect a mortal girl he had known for mere days. She was more important to him in that moment than the man he called his brother. For her Thor had changed his ways. Not for Loki.
Then he fell from the Bifrost, and when Thor pulled him from the mortals' air-borne vessel the look was back. The heated look, dampened as it was by Thor's sorrow, and almost buried by his anger. That feeling drove Thor to higher levels of stupidity than he had ever before exhibited, his steadfast loyalty to Loki nearly being the death of him. And Loki's attempts to quell it only made Thor more desperate.
Still, the Mighty Thor was victorious, and wicked prince Loki was dragged back to Asgard in chains, muzzled like a dog, disgraced and humiliated in his defeat. He was thrown in a dark cell as all of Asgard feasted in celebration of Thor's triumph. Yet despite everything, Thor was not happy. He visited Loki every day, his eyes filled with sadness and that look. And somewhere along the line, the oaf decided he would marry Loki, bind his brother to him in a tie he could not break. He had decided he loved him. And as always, he got his way.
All of this Loki knew. Yet all he said was, "I see your mortal woman did change you after all. Now if you would be so kind, I wish to retire for the evening. Leave."
Thor looked like he might argue, but after a long look at Loki's face he decided to let the matter go. His eyes looked very sad, and Loki couldn't escape the feeling that he'd kicked a puppy. A particularly large, stupid puppy. Thor bowed to him, then turned and left his chambers without another word.
There was a loud knock on his door that jolted Loki from sleep the next morning. Disgruntled, he stumbled out of bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He threw a dressing gown over his nightclothes, shooting a dark look at the door. Someone, and Loki would be willing to bet it was Thor, just kept knocking and knocking.
It was Thor. Loki leaned against the door frame, staring at his revoltingly cheerful excuse for a newlywed husband. The man had a large tray in his hands and a stupid grin on his face. His hair was damp, and he smelt strongly of the lavender soap he favoured. Loki's nose wrinkled.
"What?" he said, his voice still husky with sleep. Thor's eyes swept over him, taking in the sleep-rumpled hair, the black silk dressing gown, and the grumpy, still-sleepy expression on Loki's face. Thor's smile softened, a fond chuckle leaving his lips. Loki's glare intensified.
"I have brought you breakfast!"
"At this hour?"
"Brother, it is mid-morning. I have been up since dawn, in the training arena."
"Well, how nice for you," Loki said, voice laced with sarcasm. Thor did not seem to notice.
"Aye, it was a morning well-spent. I have had practice bouts with many a worthy opponent." He barged past Loki and placed the tray on the table. Loki rolled his eyes heavenward but shut the door, turning to face Thor with raised eyebrows.
If Thor were better able to read him, he would see the cold calculation in Loki's eyes, see the violence that welled in Loki's chest, only to be quelled through sheer necessity, through the rational knowledge that he had to bide his time. But Thor did not see. He launched into a play-by-play account of his training matches, demonstrating how with a flick of his wrist he had disarmed Sif, how with one solid swing he had knocked Hogun off his feet. Loki paid him no heed.
He seated himself at the table, examining the dishes in front of him. There was a bowl of porridge, a loaf of sliced bread, a platter of cooked meat and poached eggs, several pieces of fruit, a pot of freshly-brewed tea, and a selection of jams and marmalades. Loki poured himself a cup of tea, sipping it as he eyed his dramatically gesturing brother. Thor's eyes were glowing, his cheeks slightly flushed from a mixture of exercise and over-excitement, his golden hair windswept and wild as ever. Loki didn't have the energy to shoo him off, even if his exuberance was overwhelming. He settled for glaring at him instead.
He selected a piece of bread, spreading butter and his favourite plum jam over it. Thor finally stopped jumping about like a lunatic and sat down on the other side of the table, digging into the eggs. Loki finished his bread but made no move to take any more, instead watching with morbid fascination as Thor devoured the rest of the tray's contents. Loki wouldn't have been surprised if Thor ate the tray itself, the way he was going.
He felt a venomous remark building up inside him but held his tongue, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was no point in arguing with Thor over the breakfast table. There was nothing Loki could do at present, and it would serve him well to remain civil, no matter how much he wanted to tear into his oafish brother. It was, he decided, better to foster Thor's affection for him at this point. To some extent, anyway. If Thor grew to despise him, Loki had no doubt he would be taken back to Odin and executed.
Thor sighed contentedly, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his belly. "Ah, what a fine meal. Will you walk with me in the gardens, Loki? It is a magnificent day."
Once again, Loki forced back a venomous retort. He could abide Thor's company no longer, but it was better to be distant than vicious. Viciousness might prompt an argument, and an argument would only ensure that Thor remained longer. Thor was never one to run from combat, whether it be physical or verbal.
"No, thank you," Loki forced out. "I have other matters to attend to."
Thor looked disappointed, but stood obligingly. Loki stood too, opening the door for him. The oaf smiled, a softness in his eyes that made Loki's stomach twist uncomfortably.
"Thank you for breakfast," he said. Loki was surprised. Thor had never thanked him for his time before.
Loki said nothing, simply inclined his head and waited for Thor to leave. Thor stepped closer instead, so close that Loki could feel the heat of his body, his arms reaching out for Loki. He tensed, taking an involuntary step backwards, his fingertips itching to summon magic that was no longer there. Thor's smile faded and he promptly stepped back again, drawing Loki's hand to his lips instead and pressing a courtly kiss to the back of it. As though Loki were a lady. He snatched his hand back.
"I… have a good day, Loki," Thor said, offering him a pained smile.
Loki nodded tightly, ignoring the obvious hurt in Thor's eyes. None of this was Loki's fault. He had not asked to be married to Thor, nor for Thor to love him so, however fleeting that love may be. Thor's eyes ran over his face once more, longing in their depths, and Loki was nearly overcome with the urge to slam the door in Thor's face. This time, he gave in to the impulse, shutting the door with a loud bang as soon as Thor had cleared its threshold.
Turning around only brought his attention back to the tray Thor had brought. Somehow, fine china shattering into a thousand pieces only made Loki angrier.
Three weeks. For three weeks, Loki had been married to Thor. For three weeks, Loki had had to endure Thor's clumsy attempts at romance, everything from flowers to jewels to candlelit dinners, each one more insulting than the last. Thor had mercifully given up on bold romantic gestures, but still kept holding Loki by the shoulder, brushing hair back from his face, kissing his hand once he discovered it was the only kiss he would tolerate without violent objection, despite the grimace on Loki's face each time he did it. Loki personally thought he deserved some sort of medal for not having stabbed Thor to death with a fork by now.
When Loki walked into the feasting hall mid-afternoon, it was to find Thor and his idiotic friends stuffing their faces with meat and roast potatoes. He was very tempted to walk straight back out again when he saw the way Thor's whole face lit up at the sight of him, but obligingly walked over at Thor's call. The oafish grin fell slightly when Loki seated himself several seats away, despite Thor's gesture to the empty chair beside him, but Thor barrelled on as though nothing had happened. Loki could feel Sif's hard eyes on his face, but he ignored her in favour of picking out some of the remaining vegetables from the platters in front of them. Loki was hungry, after all, and he could not spend the rest of his life avoiding Thor and his band of merry morons. He had more important things to do.
"Loki! We are going out riding this evening. Will you join us?" Thor had cut Fandral off mid-story and was staring at Loki with enthusiastic intensity, a stupid grin plastered across his face. Loki eyed him in distaste.
"No thank you."
"Come now, surely you can spare a few hours. It will be just like old times! It has been many months now since you last ventured out on horseback, your mare will no doubt be missing you."
"Again, no thank you."
"Well…" Thor frowned, his booming voice trailing off. The pitying looks Thor was receiving, and the accusatory ones being sent in his own direction, were hardly soothing Loki's temper. Still, Thor ploughed on. "Perhaps you would like to join us in a mountain climb?"
"No thank you."
"A day by the lake?" Thor was grasping at straws now, but still he persisted. "I am sure you remember the fun we had when we were younger. Why, Fandral and I were discussing not long ago how good it would be to relive old times. Just the six of us."
"I have no interest in such trivial nonsense," Loki said scornfully. Thor looked at him with wounded blue eyes, but could not hold Loki's impassive gaze. Fandral pressed a hand to Thor's arm, but it was shaken off.
"You know, I remember a time when you used to follow us around, practically begging to join us in our adventures but never bold enough to ask," Sif said. "You used to follow us down to the lake, and hide behind the big oak tree as though we couldn't see you." There were chuckles from around the table at the thought of the small, dark-haired child with the huge eyes stumbling after the bigger children, too shy to ever actually ask to play. Loki's hand curled into a fist.
"And I remember a time when your hair was as golden as the sun, but time changes, does it not?" Sif stiffened, a retort already on her lips, eyes flashing with anger. Loki smiled coldly. "I also remember a time when you loved my good husband, no matter how vehemently you denied it. But then, some things don'tchange, do they?" Sif's face was white with anger. He'd hit a nerve, it seemed.
"Loki, hold your tongue," Thor growled. He stood abruptly, hurt forgotten in his anger, towering menacingly over them all. How quickly he lost control of his temper.
Thor had always been like that, even when they were children. His self-control had changed very little over the years, in truth, though to be fair he was less likely to throw a tantrum over a boiled sweet. Little Loki, in the face of Thor's anger, would cry. Too young to know any better, too young to properly conceal weakness. He knew better now. Still, he wondered if Thor would yield just as easily at the sight of Loki's distress as he did when they were young.
Forcing down a smile, Loki widened his eyes, recoiling from Thor's imposing figure. His expression as he gazed up was a carefully-manufactured mixture of hurt and betrayal, followed by a blank mask. It was not his greatest performance, but it certainly seemed to fool Thor. "I apologise," he murmured. "I beg your indulgence, my lord husband, for my insolence. I will not speak out of turn again."
Guilt flashed across Thor's face, and Loki could tell he was practically kicking himself for speaking so harshly to his skittish brother, having worked so hard to regain some semblance of trust. He backtracked clumsily. "It is not my intention to master you, Loki, you may speak as you will."
"Excuse me," Loki murmured, standing and bowing to him, then stalking towards the doors. He heard Thor curse and jostle the table in his haste to follow, but he did not stop. Thor had to run to catch him, gripping him by the wrist and turning him around, forcing him to face him.
"Loki, I apologise. You should not have spoken so, but it is not my place to reprimand you. Forgive me?" he said in a rush. Loki stared pointedly at Thor's restraining hand on his wrist until he released him, looking rather helpless.
"How soon your affections waver, your Highness. I see that your true loyalty lies with your friends, as always. Please do not allow me to detain you."
"No, Loki-" Thor grabbed him again.
"Please, your Highness, release me," Loki said, voice barely above a whisper. Any louder and he doubted he could mask his amusement. There were crocodile tears welling in Loki's eyes, his posture was rigid, and one look at his face and Thor was ready to grovel for forgiveness. Perfect.
"Loki, my love, forgive me," Thor murmured urgently, hands coming up to cup his face. Loki shied away, making a pathetic little noise of distress. "Easy, brother."
Thor caught him, one arm holding his waist, the other catching Loki's chin so that he would look him in the eye. Thor looked genuinely distressed, all anger forgotten. Loki almost snorted in derision. The oaf had known him for millennia, yet still seemed incapable of reconciling Loki's deeds, both the mischievous and outright cruel, with Loki himself. Ah well. If Thor was willing to see him as a fragile, weeping maiden, Loki could use that to his advantage.
A token bit of struggling enabled Loki to quickly scan Thor's friends who, though too far away to hear anything, could clearly see them both. The Warriors Three had respectfully averted their gazes and were murmuring amongst themselves, but Sif was watching intently, the corners of her mouth turned down. He would have to keep an eye out for her. She was too clever for her own good.
"Let me go," Loki said, as tearfully as he could manage. It was surprisingly difficult, he discovered, to make his voice crack in just the right way. He had rarely had cause to fake-cry in the past, largely because no one but Thor was stupid enough to believe him. He would have to practice.
"Loki, please just stop, listento me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Thor, please, please let me go. I can't do this. Not now." He sounded like the heroine in one of those novels Frigga occasionally read, giggling and blushing throughout. He had flicked through one on occasion, and would have questioned his mother's intelligence if he did not know her better. Still, Thor seemed convinced, despite Loki's miraculous transformation from unrepentant villain to damsel-in-distress.
Thor released him, looking pained, but backing off nevertheless. A few months ago Thor would have kept demanding answers until Loki snapped, but now… Now he just watched Loki with aching eyes, apologetic and pleading. Loki gave him no reprieve.
He turned away, all but running out of the feasting hall. His pace slowed as soon as he was out of sight, his tearful expression turning sour. Thor's love meant nothing. It allowed Loki to manipulate him, but for how long would that last? Thor had fallen right back into his old ways, defending his friends at Loki's expense.
Throwing one last glance back towards the feasting hall, Loki climbed the stairs and headed back to the solace of his room.
Thor and Sif circled one another, weapons drawn and eyes filled with challenge. They danced in an intricate pattern, coming together and whirling away, darting and weaving with surprising grace considering the weight of their weapons and armour.
Loki leaned on the fence of the training arena, already bored with the proceedings. He never should have agreed to this. During breakfast with Thor (which had become an everyday occurrence, to Loki's supreme annoyance), the man had practically bullied him into attending an afternoon sparring session. Not that Thor was ever able to intimidate Loki into anything. No, it was the whinging and the watery eyes that finally broke him.
With one large swing, Thor successfully disarmed Sif, sending her sprawling onto the ground in a decidedly undignified manner. His victory cry was cut short by his laughter, and Sif and Warriors Three joined in. Even Hogun cracked a smile. Loki did not.
Thor had reached down, gripping Sif by the arm and pulling her up, unnecessarily close. They stood mere inches apart, breathless and sweaty and laughing, hands clasped. Thor's golden hair shone brightly in the sun, and the smile on his face was radiant. Loki turned away, stalking over to the large oak tree near the arena, leaning against its trunk. A few moments later Thor joined him, his eyes still bright and full, laughter still on his lips. He reached out to put his hand on Loki's arm, but Loki jerked away.
"Don't. You're disgusting." His tone was rather more venomous than he intended, and Thor frowned in confusion.
"Is something wrong, Loki?"
"Nothing whatsoever. I merely tire of these tedious activities."
"You are not enjoying yourself?" Thor looked genuinely confused, as though the idea of someone not sharing his interests was unheard of.
"Much as I enjoy watching you and our dear Lady Sif paw at one another, my time could be more productively spent elsewhere." Loki made to leave, but Thor caught him by the arm.
"Come now, brother. Will you not stay a little longer? You have not yet had a turn in the ring," Thor said.
Loki snarled at him, throwing Thor's hand off his arm. The oaf retreated, hurt in his eyes, before they suddenly and unexpectedly lit up. Loki could practically hear the clunk in Thor's brain as an idea popped into it. He stared at Loki with alarming intensity.
"Were you jealous?" he asked, in a tone that suggested he thought he'd hit the nail on the head. Loki's lips curled back.
"Does my disinterest mean nothing to you, that you must construe any displeasure on my part as a sign of some hidden affection?" Loki snapped. Thor's face fell. "Let it be put on record that I don't care who you fall into bed with. Quite frankly, I whole-heartedly encourage you to find someone who will have you, if only to put an end to your ceaseless whining. What I object to is your blatant stupidity."
"I… forgive me." Thor's head fell, the corners of his mouth turning down. Loki laughed coldly.
"Must you harass me with such foolishness everywhere we go?"
"Loki, I did not mean-"
He darted back, away from Thor's reaching hands. All happiness had vanished from Thor's face, his blue eyes miserable, hands still uselessly outstretched. He stared at Loki, hurt and disappointed, yet still patient with his refusals. That would be unlikely to last long. Thor was unaccustomed to being refused, and his disappointment turned easily into anger.
"Keep your hands to yourself," Loki hissed.
"Loki, don't leave. I did not mean to upset you." Thor looked so wretched that Loki had to relent, though it pained him to do so.
"Then I will stay, for a time," he said stiffly. When Thor reached for his hand, Loki jerked it back. The man was nothing if not persistent. "That was not an invitation to touch," he hissed.
Loki stalked back to the arena, head held high, and after a moment Thor followed.
"Come on, ladies, we don't have all day," Fandral joked. Loki ignored him.
"I believe you and I have unfinished business, Loki. Will you join me in the ring?" Sif asked, leaning against a fencepost.
"You wish to spar with me so soon after your defeat at my brother's hands, my lady?"
Sif gave him a savage grin. "It will make my victory that much sweeter, my prince."
Loki gave her a cold smile in return, taking up a practice blade and stepping into the ring. "Then let us begin."
They circled one another, Loki biding his time until Sif struck. She had never had his patience. Sure enough, Sif swung suddenly, Loki's blade meeting hers with a loud clang. Then they truly began. They spun and whirled, parrying and thrusting, each searching for a weak point and finding none. There was no time to taunt or jeer at one another. Sif was fighting ferociously, and Loki met every swing of her blade with equal force.
He began to tire before she did, despite her previous bout with Thor. It had been some weeks since Loki had taken up arms, and longer still since he had nourished his body as he should. So finally, with an ease that shamed him, Sif sent his sword clattering out of his hands, bringing her own up to his throat. For a moment they simply stared at one another, panting. Then she laughed, her eyes shining brightly with her victory. She lowered her sword.
Loki turned away, moving to pick up his own weapon, which had ended up several feet away. He did not need to turn to know Sif was being heartily congratulated.
"Once again, you prove your worth as a warrior," Thor was telling her, clapping her on the back.
"It was not a fair fight, truly," Sif replied. "Loki is not at his full strength."
"You are gracious as ever," Thor laughed.
Loki, however, saw red. Sif had defeated him, and now she sought to further diminish him with mockery? His grip tightened on the practice sword. He whirled, flinging his blunted sword at her unsuspecting back. She fell to her knees with a cry of surprise, clutching at her shoulder. The tip of his blade, blunted as it was, had pierced the supple leather of her shoulder pad before clattering once more to the ground. When she pulled her hand away, it was streaked with blood.
He ignored the outraged shouts on Sif's behalf, instead watching as Thor went to his knees with her, pulling leather away from her injured shoulder with practiced ease so he could inspect her injury. It was not deep, but it still bled. Thor tore a strip from his own shirt and wrapped it carefully around her shoulder to stem the blood. Sif would probably need stitches. The thought made Loki bare his teeth.
"I will ask you to leave now, Loki. Please."
Thor's voice was full of tightly constrained anger, his body practically vibrating with rage, much as he tried to contain it. It was an improvement from his usual roaring fury, but the man was still as fickle as ever. Still, he sided with his beloved friends, no matter how they riled Loki.
Loki could have growled with fury. Once more, he was betrayed, cast aside in favour of another. His hand reached towards the dagger hidden in his sleeve, but stopped short as he stared at his husband's turned back. It was a stroke of devious inspiration that made Loki do what he did next.
"Thor?" he said, his voice deliberately faint. He made his body sway slightly, for the benefit of any onlookers. He knew as well as anyone of the bags under his eyes, of the gauntness of his cheeks, though only Loki knew them to be the result of long nights of planning and raging, in turn. Thor hardly looked at him, still too busy fussing over his darling Sif.
"Thor," he said again, allowing the slightest waver into his voice.
"Away with you, Loki! You've done enough damage already," Thor growled, patience lost, sending Loki only a furious glance before returning to his work. How quickly Thor's affections wavered. Loki could have laughed.
Instead, he swayed where he stood, knowing he had the attention of Volstagg, at least, whose furious scowl suddenly morphed into an expression of concern as Loki staggered (the simpleton – he was almost as bad as Thor). Mentally bracing himself for the impact, Loki went limp all over. His body crumpled, and he forced his arms to remain as lax as though he had fallen unconscious, though his instincts screamed at him to catch himself. He hit the ground with a loud thud.
Thor was on him in a moment, his cry of "Loki!" ringing in his ears. He allowed his eyes to flutter open again a moment later, his expression one of carefully-manufactured confusion at finding himself on the ground. Thor was leaning over him, his expression twisted with worry. Loki blinked at his surroundings a few times, then made as though to sit up. Thor's firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Be still. What happened? Are you all right?"
The open distress in Thor's voice did nothing to dampen Loki's rage, and he pushed Thor away from him, moving unsteadily into a sitting position.
"I just fell," he said, his voice the perfect combination of weakness and defiance. "I am quite well."
"At least let me help you," Thor said, reaching for him again.
"I don't need your help!" he snapped, pushing himself to his feet.
This was too easy. He could see guilt in Thor's face already, anger on Sif's behalf forgotten. His poor little Loki had been calling for his help, and had collapsed when he refused him. Now darling Loki was determined to conceal his weakness from Thor, as though it shamed him. Loki wondered if Thor would ever grow a brain, or if his brother would still be so painfully gullible in centuries to come.
Loki took a few steps before swaying once more, his usual grace abandoned. This time, Thor was there to steady him. He caught him firmly but gently, gripping Loki's waist and pulling him against him. Loki put up a token struggle before surrendering, allowing himself to lean against his brother, gripping one of Thor's hands to steady himself when he fake-stumbled again.
"Thank you," he said, keeping his voice faint. "I can take it from here. Return to your friends."
"Loki," Thor said, his voice low and gentle, imploring. There was no trace of his former rage.
"Sif requires your assistance," Loki said, his tone cold and haughty, extricating himself from Thor's grip. He drew himself up to his full height, throwing Thor an imperious look, before continuing on his way to the palace. He kept his steps carefully hesitant, determined yet wavering, the steps of one trying to conceal weakness. Once again, Thor caught him, holding him gently by the upper arm.
"Come, Loki, you are ill. Let me walk with you."
"I don't need your help."
"I know, brother. But for my own peace of mind, please, let me walk with you."
Loki gave him a searching look, before sighing and inclining his head slightly, turning his eyes from Thor's face as though he was embarrassed. Thor turned back to his friends.
"I will see you later," he said. "Forgive me, Sif, but Loki is unwell."
Thor wrapped an arm securely around his waist once more, and they began to walk. Loki made his steps waver occasionally, but Thor's grip was firm. He could practically feel the man's heart softening even further as Loki leaned into his grip, using Thor's body to steady himself.
They made their slow way through the corridors of the palace towards Loki's chambers. He could feel the warmth of Thor's hands at his waist even through the fabric of his tunic. He allowed one of his own hands to ghost over Thor's in a gentle, hesitant caress, listening to Thor's slight intake of breath. Thor pressed him closer.
Finally, they came to Loki's door. Thor pushed it open, then nudged it to close gently behind them. Loki was leaning even more heavily on him now, and he helped him sit down on his bed. He lay back, allowing his eyes to close for a moment, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. He could feel Thor's hands gently unlacing his boots, pulling them off one after the other. Loki's eyes slowly fluttered open again, peering at Thor through long dark lashes, and he could see the moment where Thor's breath caught in his throat.
"I will fetch a healer," Thor said.
"No, there is no need. I just need rest, is all. I have not been sleeping much of late."
"Or eating either, by the look of you." Thor pressed a tender hand to his cheek, stroking softly.
"I will be well, Thor." Loki smiled softly at him. Thor hesitated for a moment, then sighed.
"Very well. Though if you do not look better after some rest, you will be seeing a healer." Thor helped manoeuvre him under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. His expression was so soft that Loki had to look away.
"I have not the strength in me to argue, my lord," Loki said. Thor snorted, but smiled fondly.
"Rest, now." A large, golden hand brushed the hair from Loki's eyes and, though he hesitated for a moment, Thor leaned down and pressed a kiss to his brow. Loki's lack of protest made his eyes practically glow with tenderness. Thor stood, picking up Loki's boots and placing them by the door.
"Thor?" Loki called softly. He paused, his hand on the door handle. "Thank you."
Thor smiled at him again, warm and open. If you had told Loki his headstrong, foolish brother could ever look that soft but months ago, he would have laughed. Thor had changed, after all. But, he reminded himself, it had not been for him.
"Sleep well, my dearest," Thor murmured. The endearment sounded strange coming from his lips. He opened the door and with one last, longing glance at Loki, stepped out into the corridor and shut it softly behind him.
Loki waited until he could no longer hear Thor's footsteps before he climbed out of bed. He brushed himself off, meticulously re-arranging his clothing and his hair, shooting a dark look at where Thor had stood moments ago. He was, in a way, very fortunate to have been married off to his brother. Thor was an oaf and a barbarian, but easy enough to manipulate.
Loki caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused, staring contemplatively at his reflection. What was it about him that so drew Thor? He was neither handsome nor beautiful, by anyone's standards. His face was too thin, nose too large, eyes too piercing, and lips almost non-existent. Not that Loki hadn't had his fair share of conquests (both his status as a prince and his silver tongue worked highly in his favour). His looks, however, had only deteriorated over time, his once milky skin now sallow and sickly, pulling far too tightly over the bones of his face. And Thor knew of the anger and bitterness in Loki's heart, of the corruption that went right down to his core. Why did Thor persist? Perhaps he was not only stupid, but also afflicted by some grave mental disease.
Loki scowled, then turned away, settling himself into a chair and picking up one of the heavy tomes sitting on his desk. He could, at the very least, spend his afternoon more productively now that he had gotten rid of Thor. The thought cheered him considerably.
A gentle knock on his door several hours later pulled Loki's head out of his book. He heaved a sigh, noting his place, then shutting it quietly and stalking over to his small dressing room. He would need to change his clothes for dinner, if Thor believed he had slept in them.
"Loki?" came Thor's soft call from outside the door.
"A moment," Loki called back, kicking off his trousers and laying them over a chair, pulling on a new pair as he went. He pulled on a simple white undershirt and began to button it. "Come in," he called.
Thor pushed open the door. Loki turned to face him, standing in the open doorway of his dressing room and fiddling with the last buttons of his shirt. Thor's gaze swept over the exposed skin of his chest and neck and his eyes darkened, the air itself becoming heady. Loki pretended not to notice, hiding his sneer, buttoning the shirt to his neck and straightening. He nodded to Thor in welcome before he turned away, rummaging through his clothing for a leather jerkin.
Thor cleared his throat gruffly. "How are you feeling, brother?"
"Much better, thank you," he said pleasantly. His tone was, perhaps, over-sweet, but Thor did not appear to notice.
Thor stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him. By this time Loki was fully dressed, buckling the last buckle of his jerkin. He felt the man come up behind him, running his hands up his arms, pressing against his back in a tentative embrace. He pressed his face to Loki's hair, inhaling, his beard tickling Loki's neck. Loki turned in his arms, expression as docile as he could make it, resting his hands lightly on Thor's shoulders. The oaf pulled him closer, bringing one large hand up to caress the bones of his cheek. He cupped Loki's chin, his thumb stroking the corner of his mouth, eyes on his lips, and Loki pulled away.
"We must have words, my brother, about what happened today," Thor said after a long pause in which he visibly pulled himself together. So he still had his touch after all, Loki thought with a smirk. Thor sounded firm rather than angry, but Loki was sure there was anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Must we?"
"It was a wicked thing you did, Loki. Sif needed twenty stitches." Thor was frowning, though more in discomfort at the nature of the conversation than anything else. He preferred to deal with all of his disagreements in the ring.
"Do you mean to punish me, my lord, for my transgressions?"
"I would understand why you did what you did."
"I should have thought that would be obvious."
"You threw a sword at her turned back, Loki." Thinking about it was quickly riling him up again, his chest starting to expand and his brow set in a scowl, but Loki could not resist pushing a little further.
"Then perhaps she would have been wise not to turn away. I would have expected a warrior of her skill to be able to dodge."
Now Thor was angry. He had drawn himself up to his full, imposing height, legs parted in a combative stance, righteous fury in his eyes. Loki could deal with that.
He sighed mournfully, walking over to the window and looking out, angling himself so that the light softened the sharpness of his features. "Will you come here, brother?" he asked.
Thor hesitated for a moment but slowly approached, watching Loki suspiciously. Loki said nothing, simply positioning himself in front of his brother and leaning back against his broad chest, giving a sigh of contentment. Thor's arms went up, unbidden, to wrap around him from behind, and after another long moment he rested his face against Loki's dark hair. Loki could feel the anger draining out of him once more as he stroked Thor's hands where they were clasped at his waist, then gently rested his own hands on top of them.
For long moments, there was nothing but the gentle sound of their breathing as they watched the sun beginning to set. Thor's arms were big and warm around Loki's thin frame, his grip strong yet yielding. At another time, Loki would have hated the difference between their bodies, hated that Thor dwarfed him so easily, despite their being of a near-identical height. Once more, Thor's mere presence diminished Loki into… no. There was no space for such thoughts now, not while he had to soothe Thor's rage.
Loki had no intention of suffering any real consequences for his actions towards Sif, after all, and only Thor was in any position to punish him. The Allfather would not interfere now Loki belonged to Thor, for doing so would challenge Thor's ability to control Loki, and make the people of Asgard question their safety from the criminal prince. And if their mighty prince could not control Loki, how could he be fit to rule Asgard, when the time came? The people of Asgard were so simple-minded.
He was pulled from his thoughts when Thor made a pleased, rumbling noise in his chest. Loki's chuckle upon feeling the vibration of it was genuine. Thor nuzzled his hair, twisting his hands so that he could play with Loki's own, stroking the smooth skin and tracing the long, elegant lines of his fingers. Thor's hands were roughly calloused, the result of many hours of weapons training, another reminder of his physical superiority. Loki's hands had always been smooth and soft, masculine yet delicate, the hands of a sorcerer and trickster rather than those of a warrior. Loki did not like them. Thor, however, seemed perfectly content.
"Are you still angry with me?" Loki asked at length. Thor gave a frustrated groan.
"I should be."
"But are you?"
"Not at the moment, no. I think you have bewitched me."
Loki jerked away from him as though burnt. "You mock me?"
Thor looked startled. "Mock you? What do you mean?"
"My magic was taken from me, as you well know. Now you mock me for it?"
Thor was utterly bewildered. "Loki, you misunderstand."
"I am going to dinner," he said coldly.
He snatched up his overcoat as he stormed out, ignoring Thor's confused, frustrated calls behind him. Loki's lips quirked into an amused smirk, despite himself. Thor would no doubt be mulling over the conversation for hours to come, trying to work out where he had gone wrong. They would reconcile later, of course, for Loki had no real choice about that. But by then, Thor's anger would have faded into nothingness in his confusion and disappointment, and their argument would be long forgotten.
It had been some time since Loki had paid any attention to the goings on in Asgard, and longer still since he had been interested in his brother's adventures. Little had changed. Little ever did. But he was tired of sitting around the palace like a caged bird, and, more importantly, offended that when trouble arose no one thought to call on his aid.
"Thor, it's too dangerous," he said, as he had done hundreds of times over the course of his long life. He would have felt nostalgic if Thor weren't such an intolerable moron.
Thor had come before him to say goodbye, more irritatingly boisterous than Loki had seen him in some months. He looked almost like his old self again, bold and proud and insufferably arrogant. He seemed to have forgotten all his troubles, and had only smiled good-naturedly in response to Loki's snarled insults. It was a pleasant change from the pathetic, wounded looks Loki usually received, but far from endearing.
"Nonsense, brother," Thor laughed. "What is a bilgesnipe compared to Asgard's finest warriors?"
"This bilgesnipe has already killed ten people, some of whom were warriors, as you well know. Let me come with you."
"No."
"I thought you said it wasn't dangerous?" Loki said oh-so-sweetly.
"Not for warriors, perhaps, but your magic is bound. It is too dangerous for you."
"What, so I am to be some kept woman?" Loki snarled. "I too have trained in the art of weaponry! Do you think me so weak that I cannot lift a blade?"
"There is no shame in having other strengths, Loki," Thor said, trying to placate him. He seemed to think he was giving Loki a compliment.
"Oh, so you do!"
"That's not what I mea-"
"Get out."
Thor looked pained. "Loki-"
"Out."
He still made no move to leave. "You misunderstand me. I merely meant that-"
"Fine! I'll go!" Loki turned on his heel and stormed out of his own chambers, ignoring Thor's calls behind him. He was, admittedly, being melodramatic, but the seething resentment in his chest could not be ignored.
He stalked through the corridors with his head held high, servants and guards alike wisely giving him a wide berth. Loki was very tempted to ride out despite Thor's wishes, alone if necessary, and slay the wretched beast himself. The fact he knew he could not kill it alone without his magic was enough to prevent him from trying, but did nothing to soothe his temper.
His footsteps quietened as he reached the library, but his pace was still brisk. He gave a curt nod to the librarian, but one look at his face and the man went scurrying for cover. Loki's lips curled into a sneer.
He darted down an aisle at random, weaving in and out through row after row of shelves until he found a secluded spot where he could sit and think. The familiar atmosphere of the library did little to calm him. He felt angry, vicious, wanted to make Thor hurt but not sure how to go about it. Thor forgot Loki's worth, forgot just how dangerous he could be. It was high time Loki reminded him. He was almost tempted to do himself an injury in his spite, just to see the look on Thor's face when he found out, but Loki preferred to avoid pain.
When a familiar servant girl poked her face around the corner, startling and dropping the stack of books in her arms when she saw him, Loki did not scold her. He watched her, his gaze turning from furious to calculating in a heartbeat, wondering at his good fortune that she happened to wander by just as mischief was on his mind. It was an idea that had long been considered, but ultimately discarded due to the risks involved. Now, they were not important. He was going to make Thor hurt.
The girl used to watch him, sometimes, her gaze admiring, though the difference in their rank and her own reserve made her too shy to approach him. He stood as she frantically collected her books, babbling apologies, her cheeks a flaming red. She was comely enough. Her face was relatively plain, but her body was pleasantly plump and curvaceous, and Loki's gaze was drawn to the generous swell of her breasts.
He bent to help her and she froze in shock, staring at him as a mouse might a larger predator. He brushed his fingers against the back of her hand as he handed her a book, watching as her breath came faster than ever, her blush deepening. She stood, stammering her thanks, her eyes darting nervously as she avoided his gaze.
When he reached out and plucked the stack of books from her arms, setting them down on a nearby table, she looked almost frightened and Loki wondered if he had misjudged her. But as he drew her closer, placing a gentle hand against her cheek and pressing sweet kisses to her lips, her found her willing and passionate. She kissed with the fervour of one who had longed for him, and Loki knew he had chosen well.
Loki grinned like a wolf when he lead her to his bed. What sweet vengeance it would be for Thor to be so thoroughly betrayed. He felt almost wild, despite the careful calculation in each kiss he pressed to her skin, intoxicated by the satisfaction of revenge. Thor would suffer for this marriage. His jealousy would tear him apart.
The girl left soon after they were done, her expression shifting from satiated to horrified when she realised exactly whose spouse she had just bedded. Loki let her go, not bothering to get her name, his smirk vicious and true. The thrill of what he had just done made him feel heady, free. It would not last, he knew, and there would be consequences. He could bear them happily, as long as he made Thor hurt. If Loki could not have his freedom, his captor would suffer with him.
A laugh burst out of him, high and wild, and he wondered for a moment if he was as mad as people thought. But with the wicked excitement of his betrayal still running through his veins, Loki could not bring himself to care.
Loki leaned over his balcony, watching as Thor and his idiotic friends dismounted their horses, talking and laughing excitedly. Clearly they had had some success. Fandral's arm was in a sling, but no one seemed badly injured. They shouted a merry greeting as Frigga descended from the palace to greet them. Even from his distance, Loki knew her smile was strained.
News of Loki's dalliance with the servant girl had spread like wildfire. Apparently the girl had broken into hysterics in the kitchens, and the news had spread from there. Within a day he had been summoned to the throne room to be questioned by the king and queen. He had half expected to be thrown out of the palace immediately, as he made no attempt to deny the allegations. He had thrown them a too-wide grin, which seemed almost to… unsettle them. They had exchanged a long glance, communicating Loki knew not what, but had ultimately dismissed him without even a warning. It was very anti-climactic.
He watched Thor greet Frigga with a rough kiss on the cheek, his grin fading as he noticed the look on her face. She murmured something, and Thor looked up at Loki, a confused frown on his face. Loki made eye contact, his face carefully neutral. Thor was lead inside by Frigga, no doubt to be informed of Loki's transgressions. Their reunion would not be a happy one.
Five minutes later, the sky began to darken. Loki smiled, watching lightning lancing across the sky, rolls of thunder growing so loud they seemed to shake the palace itself. The wind was beginning to howl, whipping his hair wildly about his head. He laughed, exhilarated, raising his face to the sky.
Loki tilted his head at the sound of thumping on his door, but made no move to answer. It was only just beginning to rain, but the wind was whipping so ferociously he could pretend not to have heard.
"Loki! Open this door!"
There was no pretending Loki had not heard Thor then. His voice crashed like thunder.
"Loki!" Lightning flashed across the sky.
"Thor!" Loki shouted back childishly, mockingly. Thor pounded on the door again, and Loki could see the wood was beginning to splinter. The rain was stinging his face now and Loki laughed, jumping up onto the railing to feel the storm's full force. It was brutal as it lashed him, and Loki laughed again, revelling in Thor's fury.
The door did not give way, to Loki's disappointment. Thor must have called the guards to fetch the key, for he twisted the handle and came storming into Loki's chambers. Loki turned to look at him, his smile wide, and Thor stopped dead.
"Loki, get down from there!"
Loki turned away again, shifting so he was balancing on one leg, wobbling precariously from the force of the wind. His blood was humming with his recklessness, with the long-forgotten feeling of freedom, his heart pounding in excitement and fear, and Loki wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh.
He swayed dangerously at a violent clap of thunder. With a speed that belied his size Thor lunged for him, grabbing him in a grip firm enough to bruise and yanking him off the railing. Rain was pelting both of them as Thor dragged him inside, ignoring his protests. He whirled Loki around, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.
"Why are you acting like this?" Thor shouted, breathing harshly through his gritted teeth. He spoke of more than Loki's balancing act on the railing.
Loki threw him off, shaking his head so that drops of water would fly at Thor. Loki was drenched. And his exhilaration at the feel of the storm was quickly quenched by anger, laughter replaced all too easily with cruelty.
"How should I act, dearest brother? Do tell me, I so love being told what to do."
"You are infuriating." Thor's voice was a menacing growl. The wind howled outside, lightning lancing with a deafening crack across the sky.
"What is it that has you so upset?" Loki asked, his tone innocent but his eyes glittering with malice.
"You-" Thor's voice cut out and he was unable to continue, rendered speechless in his rage.
Only once before had Loki seen him so, when they had been youths, and Loki had driven Thor's sweetheart away from him. Thor had confronted him, Loki had laughed viciously and recounted all the wicked things he had said to the girl to upset her, and his brother's face had gone white. His mouth had opened and closed, his breaths coming faster and faster, before he began to turn very red. Loki had watched in fascination, goading him, waiting for him to finally snap. Thor broke Loki's jaw that day, and it was only their mother's frantic entreaties that stayed his hand. Loki sometimes wondered just how badly Thor would have hurt him had their mother not been in the next room and come running as soon as she heard a crash.
Sometimes, Loki thought Thor would have killed him. But then he would remember the look on Thor's face when he backed off, the confusion as he glanced down at his hand, the dawning horror as he saw the blood dripping down Loki's face. He stood frozen while Loki was half-carried to the healing rooms, and after, once Loki had returned to his own chambers, he had asked Loki to forgive him. I did not mean to hurt you. I lost control. Please forgive me, brother. And Loki had believed him.
"It did not mean anything," Loki said soothingly. Much as he loved to rile Thor, he hoped to escape from their encounter physically intact, so he knew he should at least try to calm him down. His words had the opposite effect. Thor roared, picking up one of Loki's wooden chairs and flinging it against the stone wall. It shattered, actually shattered, and Loki darted back as shards of wood sprayed in his general direction.
Thor looked at him with dark eyes, lips curled back into a snarl of fury. He abruptly jerked away from Loki, turning his back as he tried to restrain his temper.
"I did not mean for things to go so far. I never meant to upset you, dearest," Loki tried. The hard line of Thor's shoulders did not soften in the slightest at the endearment. Loki move forward tentatively and touched his arm. Thor jerked away as though he had branded him, jaw working furiously, but still speechless in his anger.
"Can we not speak about this?" he asked. Thor made a truly alarming noise in response but still would not look at him, as though just looking at Loki would be enough to finally tip him over the edge.
"What, does this surprise you?" Loki snarled, dropping his conciliatory attitude. He would not play nice if Thor would not. If the oaf expected him to beg, to diminish himself for the sake of Thor's pride, he was more of a fool than Loki thought. "I hate you. The very thought of your touch disgusts me, brother. I wish you had just killed me. Or better yet, I wish I had killed you-"
Thor grabbed Loki's arm so hard it felt like he might wrench it out of its socket. He caught Loki by the shoulders, shaking him roughly, his eyes wild with rage. Loki froze in his grip, his eyes widening of their own volition. For a moment, and for the very first time in his life, Loki was genuinely scared of his brother. He stared at Thor, stunned, heart pounding in his chest and every muscle in his body rigid in Thor's grasp. Thor released him.
"Loki… Loki, I-" He reached for him again. Startled, Loki flinched back. Thor looked devastated. "I'm sorry," he said. "I lost my temper. I would never hurt you, Loki."
Loki's lips twisted into a caricature of a smile, and now it was Thor's turn to flinch. "I'm sure the bruises on my skin will attest to that." He whirled away from him, moving over to the window to watch the storm.
"Do not speak as though I am the only one who has done wrong," Thor said lowly.
"Our kinds of wrong are two very different things brother."
"You forget your place."
Loki went very still. "I see," he said quietly. "So we are not equals after all. You are my master, and I your slave."
"That is not what I meant!" Thor looked murderous again.
"Then what did you mean? Truly, I can think of no other interpretation, though my mind is far sharper than yours. You think me below you. And I, your Royal Highness, have no choice but to submit."
He turned and knelt, spreading his arms in a submissive gesture. "Beat me, dear husband, and be done with it."
Every muscle in Thor's body went still. He stared at Loki with guarded eyes, and Loki's vicious smile contradicted his mild tone.
"Come on. Beat me. I will not resist. Beat me. Here I kneel, wicked creature that I am, at your feet. I submit to your power. Here is Loki, defeated, on his knees at the feet of the mighty Prince Thor. Are you not happy, brother? Is this not what you wanted? Just beat me and be done with it."
For a moment, Thor looked like he was considering it. His eyes were so cold, so filled with hate, Loki thought he really would strike him. He watched as his words sunk into Thor's head, braced himself for Thor's fury. But Thor just looked at him, and his expression slowly morphed into disgust, horror, then grief. His muscles loosened, his hand falling limply to his side. Loki's surprise must have shown on his face, for finally Thor spoke.
"Did you really believe I would strike you, Loki?" Thor asked, his voice heavy.
"Yes," Loki said matter-of-factly, raising his eyebrows at Thor's sudden display of emotion. Thor closed his eyes, swallowed.
"Truly?"
"Yes. And for a moment, brother, you thought you would too." He spoke simply, but still Thor's face crumpled with grief and shame.
He closed his eyes, his mouth twisting into a pained grimace. When he opened them again, his anger had been replaced by cold misery. He turned away so Loki could not look him in the eyes.
"We will speak tomorrow, brother. I have no more words today."
Loki climbed slowly to his feet, approaching Thor with confidence now his rage had passed. Just to be contradictory, Loki leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Thor's cheek. Thor looked at him again, betrayal and hurt and longing in his gaze. He stared back silently, waiting to see what the oaf would do.
Thor lowered his head, and did nothing.
After he had left, Loki calmly began to tidy the things Thor had thrown during his temper tantrum. His chest felt oddly constricted, but he supposed that was the result of his still-dripping clothes. Though cold did not bother him, wet clothing would do him no good. He stripped, standing naked in his chambers for a moment, considering what he should do with them. In the end, he went back to the window to watch the storm.