A/N – Several of you here and other places wanted to hear Laufey's muted words to Loki in the last chapter, so I put a little somethin-somethin in there for you. Just remember—you asked for it!

Chapter 10

The All-Father's parting words bother Thor increasingly more each day.

His father had made it far too easy for Thor to leave Asgard behind after forsaking the throne. He had committed high treason, after all, and coerced others into doing the same. He'd also aided in Loki's escape and then delivered him straight into a situation that had cost his little brother his life. So very, very soon after he'd cost his mother hers by bringing Jane to Asgard.

The All-Father hadn't even looked particularly upset when he'd learned of Loki's death. And to Thor, that is the strangest thing by far. He's seen his father grieve for Loki before. This is different. Calloused and wrong. None of it makes even the slightest bit of sense.

Thor sits and ponders the problem for days, barely remembering to eat or sleep. Jane does her best to help him through his grief, but he can't seem to make it past the bargaining stage.

He's missed something somewhere. He's convinced of it. And he can't shake the feeling that once he finds it, things will only get worse instead of better.

Loki is absolutely frozen.

It's the same sort of feeling he'd experienced on Midgard—when his brother had dropped out of the sky, grabbed him by the throat, and pulled him from the mortals' aircraft with a look of promised wrath. That was another time and place, but it didn't matter. Loki is still left feeling like a little boy gazing up at a vengeful storm. He isn't certain whether to run or continue to stare at the magnificence. It's a beautiful way to die.

"I would have come sooner," Thor says with a lighthearted chuckle. He speaks in response to Sif's dry remark at his sudden appearance, but his eyes are on Loki, who hasn't moved or blinked or spoken. Thor's smile dims a bit. "I tried. You know I tried." The words are meant for his little brother alone.

Loki feels his eyes begin to shine with a pitiful display of sentiment. Not a single emotion but a thousand different ones tangling together into a hard knot in his throat. He presses his lips together hard so that they won't tremble.

(I know no such thing.)

"And why do you come now?" Sif asks. "Could it be you heard Asgard was attacked? That your parents nearly died in their own chambers? Is that what finally reminded you of your duty to this realm?"

Thor's calm expression reveals he already knows his parents are safe, but his eyes break away from Loki and look over his shoulder instead, where Laufey crouches and glares at them from his cell. Thor's disdainful glance lasts but a moment, as if nothing could be less worthy of his attention. "No," Thor says, drawing closer to them so that Laufey can't hear his words. "I didn't know of the attack until I arrived at the Observatory. I came because I heard Loki scream."

Sif shakes her head once, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone heard him. Everyone on Midgard, that is. It caused a frenzy, and I could not get home soon enough."

"That is ridiculous," Sif says. "Loki was not on Midgard. He was here and I with him, defending our home. Without you, I might add."

"I know my brother's voice, Sif."

And again Thor looks at Loki with those eyes of pure, hopeful blue. There are questions in his stare, as well as the promise of warmth and protection and home. It all tears viciously at the walls of Loki's resentment, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. But he still cannot move or speak. He isn't certain what to do or even how. There is simply too much pent up inside of him to ever hope to sort out.

Mostly, he's trying to figure out why his brother hasn't gripped him by the throat and dragged him straight to the edge of the Void.

For one strange moment, Thor's eyes focus on Gungnir, which Loki holds almost behind him as if trying to hide it. He can't figure out why he's doing that either—or what Thor might be thinking when he sees it. But the moment soon passes, and when Thor draws closer still, it's only to place a hand on Loki's shoulder near the crook of his neck. Loki winces. It's a familiar gesture, but he's never quite realized how close it is to a grab at the throat.

"You are angry with me, I think," Thor says. "You have every right to be. I'm so sorry, brother. I left you here on your own to shoulder far too much."

The air rushes out of Loki's lungs in a single gust. "I hate you," he spits out. And then he's moving forward to be caught up immediately in Thor's embrace. Gungnir clatters to the floor, forgotten. "I want to rip your limbs off," Loki says as he presses his forehead into Thor's shoulder, his fingernails digging angrily into his brother's back. "And beat you to death with them."

The words are like poison pouring from a wound, and he has never meant anything so much in his entire existence.

But the embrace—which he slowly relaxes into as his eyes squeeze shut—he means that, too.

Thor's strength anchors him. Keeps him steady so that he can remember how to breathe again. And Loki remembers that this is why he came back. So that this will never die because everything would die without the sun.

Thor laughs as he gives his little brother a crushing squeeze and claps him on the back. "I fear you will have to fight Lady Sif for the honor."

Sif watches them with her arms crossed, her expression not quite as severe as moments before. "You have four limbs. Plenty to go around."

Laughing again, Thor pulls back and grips Loki by the shoulders, eyes sparkling and bringing light even to the darkness of the dungeons. "I am here now, Loki, and I swear I will set things right. I have changed. My eyes are open now. You will see."

Loki's throat feels tight. He knows all too well that Thor has changed. Midgard did not just turn him soft. It turned him into a self-righteous, judgmental fool. A great and mighty hypocrite. Loki couldn't wait until that particular trait reared its ugly head.

"Everything that happened here with the Jotunns is my fault," Thor says. "And I will not let these monsters go unpunished for what they've done. I swear it."

"Ah, there's the hypocrisy," Loki says, placing a hand on his heart. "My old friend. Thor, I'm so relieved you still make everything about yourself. I would hardly know you otherwise."

Thor blinks, his smile slipping a fraction, as if he's the one who doesn't quite recognize his brother. Then he ruffles Loki's hair and shoves him playfully way. "You don't really hate me, do you, brother?"

"No more than I love you," Loki replies without hesitation. He summons Gungnir to his hand, and his fingers tighten around the cool metal. "Brother."

They walk together through the palace, Thor leading the way, Sif at his side, and Loki falling slightly behind. He keeps pace with them, but there's never quite enough room to walk as equals.

"I still don't know what you meant about Loki screaming," Sif says. "Is it true you heard him on Midgard?"

"Indeed, I did." Thor turns his head to address Loki over his shoulder. "The Lady Darcy wished me to tell you that you were a trend on the tweeting bird website. Though I still don't understand what kind of bird makes a web instead of a nest. Humans are perplexing."

Loki draws in breath to ask his brother what the bleeding hell he's talking about, but only holds back the question with the realization that Thor probably doesn't know either. "I never called out for you, Thor. Never screamed. Whatever you might think of me, I'm not one to ask for help."

"It wasn't that kind of scream," Thor says. "It was but one word."

Loki puzzles over it for one long moment—and then he smiles, a bit impressed with himself. He had sent that command out with Gungnir's power, and it had carried further than he had imagined.

"And did the people of Midgard obey?" Loki asks, his smile growing bigger by the second.

"That, uh—that is not their custom. To kneel."

"And why did that command in particular send you scrambling for Mjolnir?" Loki asks. "Afraid I would bring the realm to ruin?"

Sif exhales slowly. "Here we go."

Thor stops in his tracks and rears around at his little brother. "I came because if you had to use that command, to scream it in such a way like no one was listening, that you needed support. You sounded so desperate, Loki. Not like yourself at all. You sounded . . . ." He breaks off, unwilling to say the word.

Loki lifts an eyebrow as he thinks it for him.

(Mad.)

"I realized I had no idea what was going on here," Thor says. "I didn't know if you were hurt or in danger, and you can't imagine the kind of helplessness I felt when I realized I couldn't get to you. Mjolnir came to me then, and I still don't know why it suddenly deemed me worthy. You say I make everything about myself, so perhaps that is the reason. Because I promise you, Loki, I was only thinking of you when I took up my hammer again."

Loki finds he cannot hold his brother's gaze, and so he stares at his own bloodless fingers as they squeeze Gungnir. The part of his heart that isn't yet poisoned and dying wants to believe what Thor says, but his self-hatred rejects the words. "I don't know what you expect me to say. One moment of putting me first doesn't make up for a lifetime of leaving me in the dust."

"Loki, that's unfair," Sif says. "Your brother leaves us all behind at times, but it's never mean-spirited."

(Not even when he commands me to remember my place? Or when he scoffs at my imagined slights?)

But Loki doesn't voice these thoughts because he's realized it was a mistake to defend himself at all. Bottling his anger is the only way to survive here—the only way he made it through his childhood and adolescence—and now that he's given in to the familiar lure of injustice, he can feel his pulse begin to pick up speed. He has Gungnir in his hand and could strike them both down with laughably little effort. He had no idea how difficult this would be—to resist the urge to strike. And so he says nothing at all because it's safer that way.

"There's nothing I can do to change the past, Loki," Thor says. "Nothing I can do to make it right."

Loki stares at his brother and wonders if he'll be able to change his past either. This is all going in an unsettlingly familiar direction.

"But I can start anew," Thor continues. "Here. Now. Sif, you will bear witness to my oath."

And then Thor kneels on one knee before Loki, right there in the middle of the corridor, and it all seems so horribly wrong.

"Thor, please. Get up."

"I swear fealty to you, Loki Odinson."

"Stop this." Loki grips Thor at the shoulder and pushes him over. Then he thrusts Gungnir in his face. "It is your birthright. Take it."

(shut up shut up it is your throne your birthright not his)

(And I will strike him down with it one day if he doesn't take it away from me. So you shut the hell up.)

"What are you talking about?" Thor says. "It is your birthright as much as mine."

(yes yes it is)

Loki's eyes shut, and he shakes his head in an effort to rid himself of his racing thoughts. As much as he wants to claim Thor's words as truth, not even he is that much of a liar. "This is not right."

"Loki, I love you for saying so," Thor says. "You are my first and truest friend. But I would not be worthy of your love or friendship if I let you bow to me now. Brother—let me finish my oath."

And so Loki watches with a numb (delighted) heart as Thor returns to one knee and swears loyalty to him as his king.

"It matters not," Loki mutters to him afterward. "The All-Father is waking. Your oath to me should last perhaps through the night."

Hours later, they are alone in Thor's chambers. Dawn has just broken outside, but heavy drapes are drawn over the windows, keeping everything pleasantly dark.

Loki has sat quietly on the cushioned seating area around Thor's great fireplace while a parade of people came in celebration of the prince's return. The Warriors Three arrived soon after Thor, having stopped only long enough to pack before calling out to Heimdall. With them, they brought a bounty of foods and trinkets from Midgard, which they'd doled out like treasure as Sif told them the story of the Jotunns' attack on the palace.

They're all gone now, Frigga the last to leave with a farewell kiss on both her boys' temples, but the room seems to still echo with their voices. They've both indulged in too much to drink, but it's only made them relaxed and tired rather than befuddled. Loki watches with lazy, hooded eyes as his brother crouches by the fire and arranges his treasures from Midgard.

"For you," Thor says, and tosses him a bag of fragrant beans.

Loki brings the bag to his nose and inhales, eyebrows lifting in approval. "Do you eat them? That would be a strange taste, I think."

"It would indeed, for it is not meant for such a purpose. You grind the beans, add boiling water, and then strain before drinking. It is called coffee."

Loki inclines his head. "I thank you."

Again, they fall into a companionable silence, and it's enough to make Loki truly begin to understand how much he's lost. There is no distrust in Thor's face. No hesitation when turning his back on Loki. Not even the slightest inkling that a knife might fly out in the dark. Would that they really were brothers and this could continue forever, but it's nothing but a lie. Their blood could not be more different—that of natural enemies—and soon Thor will lose his innocence and grow to understand why he shouldn't dole out his trust so easily.

Loki now sees this as inevitable and knows he doesn't deserve to feel such peace. And so he calls on Gungnir to speak and remind him of what he is. To deliver only to him the words he'd commanded it to silence. Laufey's words.

They curl around the base of his neck like icy fingers.

(She was a whore. Not even a decent one capable of bringing me pleasure. Instead, she brought your shamefully misshapen body to me in the hope I might claim you, but I only laughed. Oh, but I do enjoy a good joke. I was still laughing as I strangled her for daring to defile my temple in such a way.)

Loki sits up suddenly and takes in a sharp breath. Feeling ill, he sets his drink aside with shaking hands.

Thor glances at him with a chuckle. "Had a bit too much? Inhale the scent of the coffee. It will aid in restoring your wits."

Loki does as suggested and again brings the bag to his nose. His tense fingers squeeze it almost to bursting, but Thor is right—the scent prickles pleasantly at his senses, like little crackles of electricity to his brain, and it snaps him out of the cruelest of his thoughts. When he opens his eyes again, Thor is watching him, no longer smiling.

Loki immediately shifts his eyes back to the fire, unwilling to undergo his brother's scrutiny. Earlier he'd spotted Sif talking to Thor, both of them eyeing Loki in turn. The way Thor's expression shifted slowly darker left little to the imagination. She'd told him of Loki's strange behavior.

This is a conversation Loki does not want to have with Thor—for the exact same reasons he'd chosen to bottle his rage earlier instead of tapping into it. Once he got started, it would never stop until both of them were destroyed. And so even though he doesn't want to leave the perfect, warm comfort of his brother's chambers, he decides it's best to go.

Thor lifts a hand to stop Loki before can rise. "Please, brother. Stay and talk with me."

"I'm tired."

"So rest there. I have more to show you." Thor opens a colorful but flimsily constructed box and pulls out a metallic packet that crinkles in an unnatural way. He holds it up with a proud smile. "Pop-Tarts."

Loki wrinkles his nose as he wages a mocking guess. "Weaponized dessert?"

"Neither. It is a breakfast food. The tarts literally pop from a metal heating device called a toaster. It is very exciting."

Bemused, Loki watches Thor open the metallic packets and arrange the pastries contained inside near the fire to warm them. He wonders how the great and stupid Thor can be such a master at lulling him into this blinding sense of security when all Loki wants to do is lash out or run. But it's always been this way between then. They could wrestle each other into a mess of bruised ribs and bloodied noses, then eat dinner together later that night and discuss little more than the quality of the food.

"You miss Midgard already," Loki observes, hoping to steer Thor's thoughts to himself rather than his little brother's strange behavior. What he really means is that Thor misses her. Jane. But Thor hasn't told Loki about her yet, and so he improvises.

"I will return one day," Thor says. "When all is right here. And if I have my way, you will come with me this time."

And then Loki tenses again because he knows what comes next.

"Loki, why didn't you come to Midgard? I thought surely you'd come, even if but briefly."

"I am tired, Thor. The night is gone, and I don't want to fight with you."

"I'm not fighting," Thor says. "I'm asking. Why did you stay away? I admit, I was surprised when you did. I missed you."

"I'm sitting right here. There's nothing to miss."

Thor looks at him in a way that says: are you sure?

But Loki doesn't want to deal with that, so he answers his brother's first question instead. "I suppose I was afraid."

"Of what? You needn't ever fear me."

Loki snorts.

"And what am I to take away from that?" Thor asks.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"You leave me to guess then. Perhaps you thought I might resent you taking the throne. Or even try to take it from you by force."

"Among other things."

There is a long pause. And then, "You think very little of me, don't you, brother?"

Loki blinks up at him, a bit startled. "No, Thor. I hold you above everyone. Even myself. The rest is just compensation to help me slink by."

"Am I supposed to know what that means? You spin these maddening circles with your words. Can't you just say it plainly?"

"I rather thought I did."

Thor sighs and presses his palms to his face in frustration. "You do nothing but contradict yourself. Loki, are you well?"

"Never better."

"Sif worries about you."

"Yes, well, she has you back now. I imagine she'll soon return to her first hobby."

"She says you haven't been acting like yourself. I'm trying not to make this about me, Loki, but is it? Is it because I dragged you into a bad position and then left, I mean. I ask only so that I might set things right between us."

"No," Loki says quietly as he stares into the fire. "No, this has nothing to do with you."

And it really didn't. It isn't Thor's fault that Loki is inherently a monster. Thor has never once lied to his brother's face or instilled false pride and security about what and who he is—and then ripped the very foundation away, leaving nothing but a mad struggle to put the impossibly mismatched pieces back together. Thor has never tried to be better than Loki; he simply is because of what they both truly are beneath the surface. Sif was right when she'd said Thor isn't mean-spirited. Thor is many things, but he isn't cruel. Only another victim of the lie, tricked into loving and protecting a monster when the natural order of things is to slay the beast in its tracks.

And therein lies the reason Loki aims his anger and wrath at Thor, though he's done little to deserve it. It's Loki's attempt to protect himself because he's scared to death. Thor is truth and goodness and everything Loki is not. The monster deserves to die at the crown prince's hand. Just like all the storybooks say.

The monster always dies at the end. And the sun shines bright, and the people rise up in joyous song as they watch the monster's lungs fill with blood and fail.

Some time later, after Thor has grown weary of Loki's endless evasion of his questions, they doze together in the seating area by the fire. Thor breathes steadily in and out of his mouth, the first to fall asleep as always. His head rests back on the cushions, his face turned toward Loki, who sits quietly beside him.

Loki is warm and comfortable but unable to find rest. His tongue feels thick with the sticky sweetness of the tart Thor offered him, which is by far the foulest thing that has ever touched his lips in all his long years. Really, who would do such a thing to batter and innocent, unsuspecting fruit? Loki smiles at the memory of Thor's panicked expression as he explained the poisonous qualities of each chemical ingredient listed on the box, but the amusement is short lived.

"I'm going to die, Thor," Loki whispers, knowing his brother can't hear. "There's nothing you can do to stop it, so I won't tell you because I know you'll try. It's of little matter anyway because you will live on, and that's how it should be. The monster should never be the one who lives."

Unable to resist any longer, Loki sinks down against the cushions and presses his face into Thor's shoulder. His eyes squeeze shut as he inhales his brother's familiar scent, drawing it deep into his lungs and refusing to let go until they burn and beg him to exhale. They haven't slept together in the same bed since they were boys, and this isn't exactly a bed. But Loki has never forgotten what this feels like—to have something solid and unyielding there to protect him from the shadows. He's almost able to pretend the monsters will never find him here. But who is he kidding? It's the daylight he hides from now.

Not long after, Thor shifts and places his hand on the back of Loki's neck. It's only then that he manages to drift to sleep.

To be continued

A/N – Geez, this chapter was difficult to write. Loki did not want to play with big brother. And then he kinda wanted to smite him and then he was like, "Haha jk cuddles!" At this point, my story outline is in tatters.

Just a reminder that this fic is gen. Not that I don't enjoy certain relationships (sendmepornthanks), but this story deals with brotherly brothers being brothering. You know . . . without their penises.

More soon! If you have a moment, please let me know what you thought. I'm a bit behind in replying to comments, but I promise to remedy that soon.