Disclaimer: Nothing from this Marvelous universe is mine.

Summary: In a world where Odin wasn't a baby snatcher, Loki and Thor meet as children during peace talks. They're not impressed.

Warning: Young!Thor is a douche


First Meetings

Thor Odinson was all of seventy years when he'd met his first Jotun.

His mother had reminded him to play nicely, reading with total accuracy the mulish set of his newly scrubbed features, and told him to be careful and not dirty his best clothes.

It wasn't fair. Jotuns were bad and they tricked and lied. Just because the King had decided to make peace with them after hundreds of years of war shouldn't have meant he had to actually talk to the creatures.

But here he was and here they were, all the children left with eachother while their parents attended the feast, stuck with an ancient, snoring nanny as a guardian.

He raked the gathering from head to toe. They weren't much to look at and there were only three of them. There was a freckled redhead, who was picking earwax from his left ear and wiping it on the carpet. He looked about fifty. Over near the window a bulging, straw-headed giant was wiping crumbs from his shirt.

And then there was the Jotun, all blue skinned and black-haired, standing out amongst them like the monster it was. It was crouched on the floor reading a silly book which didn't have any pictures. The creature was taking up the whole area in front of the window and Thor suddenly decided he wanted to see out.

Glaring, he made his way over.

"Move," he said shortly.

The Jotun looked coldly up at him from crimson eyes.

"No."

It seemed someone needed to show it just who was scum and who was being kind in just allowing it to occupy the same room. He drew back one foot and kicked it, hard.

It rolled with the blow, shockingly light.

"It seems my father was right. You Aesir are little more than-,"

It never got to finish. The sneering tone was more than enough to persuade Thor to jump it, and he landed another solid blow to its face before it squirmed out from underneath him and landed a kick in his back.

"Oof. You will pay for striking me! I am a prince of Asgard!"

"Princess more likely. Only princesses hide behind their rank and can't take what they dish out."

"You," Thor said, rendered incoherent.

He dived again, missed, and landed in a heap on the ground.

The other two boys were watching now, eyes wide. The nanny snored on.

The Jotun darted in, lightning fast, and kicked him again in the ribs. Or it tried. The young prince grasped its leg as it connected and pulled it with a sickening jerk to the ground. It let out a satisfying oof and he decided he wouldn't mind hearing the sound again.

The resulting fight was rather nasty and unpleasantly tight. Mainly because while he was almost twice the creature's weight, he also had a code of honour. It was prepared to bite and scratch if it got the chance. But that was expected; Jotun were little more than jumped up beasts anyway.

Cold jumped up beasts.

It ended with Thor's suit in tatters and blood dripping out his nose. The Jotun was worse off though, with torn clothes and two swollen eyes to match its broken nose. He sat firmly on its chest, debating whether it was a breach of honour to punch it like this.

"Your place will always be in the dirt," he informed it, lip curling for emphasis.

It spat a mouthful of blood at him and his fist clenched.

And then he heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. He didn't pale because he was too dignified to pale. But he squared his jaw and got up with unseemly haste. He was in trouble. He was going to be in such trouble, and it was all its fault.

It scrambled to its feet as well.

It was father.

And apparantly 'it' was Prince Loki of Jotunheim.

Thor spent the next week grounded after he refused to apologise.