It was the sound of the King's Horn that startled him.

It was early morning still, and the flowers of the Queen's garden were heavy and drooping with dew. Shocked and gasping softly, the crocus he had been grazing in silent reverie snapped right in half between his fingers, but the beheaded beauty fell unnoticed to its death at his feet. That blast sounded only when a member of the royal family was arriving at the palace's main gates, and its wretched echo was meant to alert any and all that the proper preparations were to be made. Loki stood to his full height, wondering for only half a moment if father had somehow slipped outside the city limits again and was returning at the first sign of dawn.

Except he couldn't have been, because just last night he had been in counsel with the mages with Loki alongside him, preparing for the next expedition into the woods.

Mother had not gone anywhere, not to his knowledge. They would have told him if so. So if he was hearing the King's Horn now, that could only mean that -

He spun and fled the garden without a second thought, his feet pounding the earth in rhythm with his heart.

It cannot be, his mind whispered as he raced down the corridors, ignoring the frozen and wide-eyed stares of the guards and servants. It cannot. He calmly informed his own mind that there was no other reason for the Horn to sound, and to kindly shut up. He ran with all of his might to the main entry's pathway, breathless and giddy as he burst out the doors. A fresh blast of the morning's frigid air welcomed him as he slowed to a halt on the path, his eyes zeroing in at the figure not twenty yards off, walking steadily towards him. Though cast in shadow from the still-rising light, his heart stuttered in quiet surprise because he could recognize that saunter anywhere, that crooked half-smile, the familiar rise of his arm to wave in greeting.

Thor.

Gods almighty, it was him, it was his brother right there in front of him, alive and hale and here.

"Thor!" he choked out, taking off at a run again. A cursed whimper slipped past his throat as he collided with his brother, but he grabbed onto him desperately as strong arms folded comfortingly across his back.

"My brother," Thor whispered and damn it all to Hel, he could not stop the tears of demanding relief suddenly pouring hot and fast down his face. His voice, his voice, he could hear his voice again and he clutched onto him ever tighter, terrified somehow that this was nothing but a dream.

"Thor," he finally managed, caring not at all for the watchful gaze of the silent guards around them. "Thor, oh gods, are you well? Are you...?" Thor chuckled lightly against his ear, giving him one last tight squeeze before pulling back from him. Loki refused to let go, fingers wrapped tightly in the soft material of his brother's cape around his shoulders, gazing up at the golden perfection that was his brother, his brother, standing right in front of him.

"I am in perfect health, brother," Thor said lightly, placing his calloused hands on either one of Loki's shoulders. "Though a bit famished, to say the least. And in desperate need of a bath."

"But where have you been?" Loki blurted. His eyes scanned quickly and methodically over his brother's body: he looked just as Sif had those few days previous, covered in mud and perhaps a bit thinner, but sporting no serious injury or blemish. The air rushed out of his lungs as the second wave of relief overcame him; Norns be blessed, he seemed perfectly fine.

"In the woods, of course." Thor flashed a winning smile and something about it gave Loki the needed strength to let him go. He backed up a step, still searching for sign of possible damage, as Thor continued talking. "That damn thing refused to let up, but I was victorious in the end. He was no true match for me."

"But where did you go? I could not...I could not find you..." The recollection of that hopeless wandering stilled the words in his mouth, and Thor clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"I gave chase to it. For hours, I later realized, when I stood over its dead body with his severed head in my hand." Thor waggled his eyebrows and imitated the gesture with a goofy grin. "It did not take long to realize how utterly lost I was. I wandered for hours, trying to find you."

"So many weeks," Loki whispered, his gaze finally dropping to the ground. "Thor, you have been gone for so long, did you not...did you not ever see the bands of soldiers constantly skirting the woods to find you? What did you eat? Where did you sleep?"

"So many questions!" Thor laughed. "Surely you think me hearty enough to survive a few weeks in the woods?"

"Of course," Loki said. He looked up once more at his brother's eyes, shining blue and clear against the pink of the morning sky. His heart plummeted for no reason as Thor's smile widened even more. "I just...I do not understand how we could not find you, not if you were only wandering about -"

"Thor!" Said brother's head snapped up at the sound of their mother's voice, followed shortly thereafter by the quick patter of her light footsteps. Thor released his hold on Loki and raced towards her, gathering her in his arms as their father approached from behind, steady and focused as always. Loki watched carefully, his fingers twitching sightly by his sides. "We heard the horn and I knew it was you, my son. I knew you would return to us!"

"Aye mother," Thor said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "I have dreamt of nothing else these past few weeks."

"Do the Norns deceive me?" Odin asked carefully as Thor released their mother, reaching for their father in the next moment. "Or does my son return with nary a scratch on his person?"

"'Tis I, of course," Thor bellowed. Loki watched in gape-mouthed awe as Thor flung his arms about their father in unrepressed joy; Odin hesitated for only a second before embracing him as well, patting him on the back as his joyful laughter filled the air.

"We must celebrate," Father declared as the queen laughed breathlessly beside him, overcome with gratitude and relief. "We must prepare a feast, and you can regale us with your tale which will undoubtedly live on as sure as my own father's did, and his father before him."

"But first," Mother said gently, placing a hand upon on Thor's back, "he should change and rest. Look at you, Thor, you're positively filthy."

"A few weeks in the woods will do that," Thor chuckled as the family gathered closer, beginning to walk slowly back to the palace. Odin began barking out orders to the surrounding guardsmen to prepare for the day's celebration, and Thor laughed alongside him. It was only then that Frigga turned, beckoning that Loki follow, as he still had not moved from where he stood.

"Come," she said, her face positively glowing with naked joy. "My son, join us." Loki's eyes traveled up Thor's backside as he entered the palace with their father before he walked stiffly to his mother, jumping slightly as her arm wrapped securely around his shoulders. "All will be well. Is this not joyous, Loki? All will be well because your brother has returned. He was only ever lost in the woods! Lost, my son! Finally we can put this wretched business behind us." She suddenly reached forward to place a caressing hand against his cheek; her eyes were soft and shining with unshed tears. He knew only by looking at her what thoughts were settling in her mind: You are redeemed, Loki. Thor's safe return ensures no further accusations can be brought against you. "Oh, Loki," she said quietly. "Never in my life have I been so relieved."

"Aye mother," Loki said softly, patting her hand carefully. Her joy was so bright and uninhibited, her relief so raw and happy that he could not bear to shatter it. She smiled and the expression lit up her entire face and removed some of the burden from his own chest. For now he could stay quiet - he could forget his endless questions and simply revel in the joy of his brother's safe return. He wondered only what details awaited them, the explanation as to why his brother had never come across any search party whilst wandering the woods for so many weeks.

But quietly he wondered too why he was the only one who seemed to notice that Thor's fine red cape wasn't torn.

The joy.

The joy on all of their faces.

There was not a single drawn countenance in the feasting hall, not a tear nor a frown in sight. Music played, people danced. Heaping platters of succulent delicacies were served, eaten, and replaced every few minutes. There was naught but unending thrill in this place, and Loki's head was spinning from the disharmony of the people's delight. It was like the crown prince had returned from the dead, and throughout the course of the party, their elation had only continued to intensify as he entertained them repeatedly with his victorious tale. Laughter resounded like so many banging gongs, and every single noble, soldier and councilman remained in rapt fascination as Thor regaled them once again. "A horrible beast!" he had exclaimed for the umpteenth time, slamming his mug of mead forcefully upon the table. "A ghastly thing, straight from the fires of Hel. Mayhap no man shall ever again face such a horror, now that I have bested it."

"Why did you not bring home its head?" Someone asked, shouting through the throngs of the crowd. Loki took a hesitant sip of mead, his lips puckering at the bitter taste. How had Thor imbibed so many?

"But that I could have!" Thor hollered. The party had stretched into a day-long affair, and his brother's eyes were shining from the effects of inebriation. By his side, Loki glanced out the tall windows on the north side of the room; gods, but it was already dark outside! "Had I my company with me, it would have been so. But I was in those woods for weeks and had not the patience for lugging so hideous a creature around." Not to mention the fact that its flesh would have rotted after all this time, Loki thought, sorely tempted to roll his eyes at the stranger's stupid question.

"All hail Thor!" another voice shouted, and in the night's repetitive fashion, cheers and accolades echoed and echoed around them until the sound became nothing but a cacophonous blur. Loki's eyes scanned the crowd, absently searching for his parents; he did not truly realize he was doing so until he found some meager level of satisfaction once he spotted them. Though hovering beside each other amidst a group of councilmen, he could spot their frequent touches - the grazing of their fingers, the breathy laugh of his mother as her eyes met her husband's, the subtle movements that would bring them closer when circumstance separated them for but a moment - and it was obvious to him that their joy was far beyond anyone else's in this room.

They were heady with relief, lightened by the release of their concern for Thor's welfare. All was well, and things were as they should be.

So why this heavy press of disquiet in the hollow of his chest?

"I do little else, be not so proud," Thor was saying to someone, and not for the first time tonight Loki realized his mind had drifted away entirely. He shifted his gaze towards the flat, lukewarm amber of his mead; the liquid was but an inch away from the mug's rim and Thor had downed three since his own serving had been poured. He frowned, memory swirling amidst the voices ringing through his skull. Never before this day had he seen his brother drink so much. Much to Thor's chagrin and embarrassment, this particular beverage had made him quite sick but a few months prior after a particularly indulgent night. Loki had been sworn to secrecy when he'd accidentally stumbled upon him retching in the garden. Just a bit of overindulgence, Thor had said. If you tell a soul I will sew your lips shut. Even during the celebration upon their arrival at Myrkviðr, his brother had opted for a honey-wine and barely touched the mead. Now though, he supposed his brother did have reason to celebrate. But the ease with which he was downing his drink seemed...odd. Loki cast his eyes to the tabletop, silently willing his mind to quiet itself.

Perhaps he was overthinking this.

Girlish giggles sounded directly to his left and disrupted his thoughts. He turned only his head, critically assessing yet another fair maiden who had managed to break from the crowd to shyly commend his brother. Thor took every accolade in stride, bellowing out some prideful praise towards himself before muttering some sweet flirtation against her ear. This particular girl was stunning, and it took a snide remark from Fandral for Loki to realize he'd been staring at her for far too long.

"I doubt she will bite if you would but only say hello," the familiar voice intoned to his right. Loki startled and flushed simultaneously, snapping his head in the other direction to face that insufferable grinning visage. Fandral raised his eyebrows. "I'm willing to bet she would even settle for a nod of your head."

"No one asked for your insipid commentary," Loki snapped. Flustered and suddenly feeling the need to do something, he snatched his mead and took a hearty sip; he regretted it but a moment later and his face twisted in displeasure as Fandral chortled in delight.

"Nor did that innocent mead ask to be so despised by you." He leaned back casually and pointed at the mug between Loki's fingers. "Shall I finish that for you, my prince? You are just a bit young yet to fully appreciate a good mead. I will gladly spare you the embarrassment of an unfinished portion." The image of this idiot traipsing through the woods to find Thor flashed with taunting cruelty; for the thousandth time he wondered how it was that his father had allowed it.

"I should thank you for being so consistent," Loki said lowly, placing his hands one by one upon the table. "You do always manage to spoil a good time with your pitiful jokes." Fandral giggled. Gods, how he wished the entirety of Thor's stupid companions had wandered off to mingle as Volstagg and Hogun had; as it was, Sif and Fandral remained right beside him and he had pointedly ignored the two of them to the best of his ability for the past two hours. Fandral himself had drank almost as much as Thor and had turned all the more obnoxious for it.

"Still sullen, I see," Fandral said with a shrug of his shoulders. As if to prove a meaningless point, he took a large swig of his own beverage without breaking eye contact. Slamming it back down upon the table with a barely-muffled burp, he jerked his head in Thor's direction. "Funny, isn't it? How quickly we return to the natural state of affairs once things are set to rights."

"I beg your pardon? What is that supposed to mean?" Loki could not keep the edge of revulsion from his tone; he knew exactly what he meant, and Fandral was well-aware of that fact. A slow smile spread across his reddened cheeks.

"Nothing at all, my prince," he said lightly. "Only that it must be difficult for you, being cast once more in the shadow." Loki stood abruptly, the nasty scraping sound of his chair swallowed whole by the voices in the room. No one noticed his movement amidst the din. Not even Thor, who remained unaware of the tiff brewing right beside him as another maiden caught his attention.

"If I did not know better, Fandral," Loki said softly, deceptively calm, "I would think you were inferring a preference on my part for Thor's absence."

"Me? Never!" The insolent boy placed a hand on his heart, feigning shock with wide, batting eyes. "I would never imagine you envious, not when you mask your true feelings so well with that sour look upon your face."

"The drink has made you perniciously bold," Loki grit out, the edges of his vision hazing for but a moment. "Please do us all a favor and shut your flapping lips."

"Yes Fandral," a feminine voice cut in flatly. "Do tread carefully here, lest the prince cause you harm as well." The last two words of Sif's comment hung heavily in the space between them like a hangman's noose; he could not determine if she was hinting towards herself or Thor with that "as well," and the lack of understanding sent his head spinning. No doubt she had shared with Fandral what had transpired the night she had returned to Asgard.

Damn them both to Hel.

He edged from the table quickly, his face flushing once more, silently cursing the masses of people who impeded a hasty exit. "Leaving already? What a shock!" Fandral's parting remark somehow found its way to his ears before he managed to shove through the joyous partiers; he stumbled blindly through the horde with no true direction until he found himself out in the hall, which was blessedly and surprisingly empty. He walked quickly down the tiled floors until the lingering hum of the party faded into a dull echo behind him; and it was only when he was positive he was alone that he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, an infuriated whine slipping through his teeth as he did so.

Was he to bear this burden for an eternity, then?

Was he to remain the brunt of false accusation, if not by his family then by the closest companions his brother held dear? Fool! Why had he allowed himself to get so angry with Sif that night? The last thing he had needed was for her to join in Fandral's insipid jests - the idiot was harboring secret fondness for her and so would only be further encouraged if she agreed with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was to be a happy occasion, for gods' sakes. Thor was alive and well, the beast was slain and conquered, and for all intents and purposes, his world was set right again.

Something pinched forcefully in his gut and he grimaced. It's fine, it's good, stop this madness before it's too late. He was tired. That was all. Just tired...

He had only just slammed his fist into the stone again, hissing in pain as the flesh on his knuckles tore, when heavy footsteps sounded behind him. "Brother?" Thor's voice asked. Loki turned quickly and watched him approach, slowing his pace as he neared. "Why did you dart off? Are you well?"

"Naturally," he said smoothly, hiding his ruined fists behind his back. Some fluid anger swirled effortlessly through his veins, and it took everything within him to smother it back down. He forced himself to smile. "Just needed a break from the noise is all."

"Aye," Thor nodded, stepping closer towards him. "It does feel like a bit much." Loki tilted his head, curious. Since when did his brother tire so easily in the midst of celebration? "I fear my earlier rest did little to abate my exhaustion. I wonder how long I shall be permitted a quiet moment in this hall before someone notices I am gone." Like a flash of light, epiphany reared its head in Loki's consciousness, and guilt soon followed in its wake. In the throes of his own relief and then subsequent suspicions, he had failed to acknowledge the details of Thor's return. It was a three days' journey to Myrkviðr on horseback, and his brother had arrived on foot. Such a journey would have no doubt taken a ruthless toll, and this was after the countless weeks he had spent in those cursed woods. Here he was worrying over Thor's sudden change in preference in celebratory drink, when still he did not know what sorts of horrors he had endured these weeks past. Selfish, cruel idiot that he was! How could he have been so willfully ignorant?

"I am certain they would not mind your departure, Thor." He smiled genuinely this time as the reasoning in his own head calmed the rage back down to a restrained irritation. He stepped forward to squeeze Thor's shoulder affectionately, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "You've had quite an ordeal. None would hold it against you if you desired rest."

"I cannot be sure the ladies of the court would agree with you," Thor said playfully, and the underlying meaning brought forth a bark of laughter from his chest.

"Well in that case," Loki chuckled, "mayhap I could just cast an illusion and none would be any the wiser that the crown prince was snoring in his chambers." For a brief, fleeting moment Thor just stared at him quizzically; the blank expression soon lent itself to a quick smirk on his lips and he flung a strong arm around Loki's shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

"I can always rely on you, mischief-maker," Thor said as he began to walk, Loki still draped beneath his arm. "If only you could cast that place in quiet, then I could enjoy your company in peace." Loki's brow dipped in confusion; a quick glance up at his brother and his train of thought shifted entirely. Thor was tired and drunk. He could tuck away his sarcastic remarks for another day.

Then again, perhaps he wouldn't say anything at all. It felt ridiculously good for his brother to desire his company.

"Thor," he said instead, eyeing his brother's shoulders. "What happened to your cape?"

"My cape?" he echoed dumbly. There was a slight shift of his weight against Loki's shoulders; as they continued to walk it felt rather more and more like he was acting as a support for his clumsy movements.

"Yes, your cape. I thought you would be wearing it tonight." Recollection of its faultless state came rushing back with ferocious curiosity; he needed to see it again, see if perhaps he had been mistaken that the significant chunk wasn't missing from the bottom right corner. Then he could rest easy and force his traitorous mind back into submission.

"Oh yes. My cape," Thor said, hiccuping. Loki tapped the ridge of Thor's shoulder's blades with his hand, but his fingers froze when his brother spoke again: "I burned the damn thing. It was disgusting."

Some all-too-familiar dread crushed the happy beating of his heart, and he could not understand why it suddenly felt like he was falling.

/

Does Fandral have a thing for Sif? Who knows. But I thought the inclusion might help in demonstrating his more obnoxious side, particularly when combined with the alcohol consumption. I get the feeling that Fandral just likes to mess with Loki, who isn't too fond of his brand of humor. Oh well. We can't all be Thor, Fandral!

As always, your thoughts are more than welcome! Thank you to all who contribute. My heart is warm and fuzzy because of it.