I couldn't explain the reason, but something simply didn't settle correctly in my mind. I sat next to my brother's bed, feet propped up on the small table that rested nearby, as I watched his peaceful, sleeping face.
Something wasn't right.
Loki didn't get too tired to talk. When he was tired, his brain-to-mouth filter vanished, and he never shut up. But he hadn't said a word. Hadn't even tried. I supposed that one cannot simply wave off the brutal, barbaric treatment without a few ill effects, not just of your body, but also of mind. Three months of torture was bound to have some effects.
Three months. If only I'd thought to go after him, to catch him the moment he fell, none of this would've happened. He would be whole, well, perhaps a little depressed, but not… broken.
All the pain, all the torment he was living through at the moment of our quarrel on the Bifrost bridge, it could only be multiplied a thousand times over by the Titan's deeds. I was the son of Odin. I was supposed to be less helpless than this.
But there was nothing.
All I could do was wait for Loki to awaken, again. He slept, and had been sleeping for three hours, since he'd awoken in the healing halls. Lady Eir had him on some sort of intravenous potion, designed to strength him, or something. Loki would understand it better, but, well, he was unconscious.
"Brother…" I sighed, pulling my feet off the table, and leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees. "Where did I go wrong?"
At that moment, as if on que, Loki's dark eyebrows drew together in distress. A pained, suffering look fell over his face, and his whole body tensed.
A nightmare. He had had them all the time as a child. As he began silently weeping, his breaths getting shaky and panicked, I lay a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Loki, wake up." I murmured. "It's a dream, nothing more."
He shuddered pitifully, then fluttered his eyes open. Immediately, they rested on me, flooded with relief, and he sat up, clinging to my shirt in a desperate panic.
"Hey, it's alright." I murmured, gently cradling his shaking body, as I rocked him. "I've got you."
There it was, again. Not a peep, not even a, "let go of me, you oaf." Only silent, completely silent sobbing.
"Loki?" I asked, now sure that something was, indeed, wrong. "Won't you speak to me?"
He stared at me with wide, confused eyes, as if what I had asked was absolutely ridiculous, not even worth an answer. He wiped the tear-stains off his face, and blinked up at me in confusion. "Speak." I prompted. "You know… talk to me."
Resolutely, he shook his head, in a way that left absolutely no margin for disagreement.
With a sigh, I wiped his nose on a handkerchief. "Any moment you wish to say something…" I told him. "I miss your voice."
He only smiled softly, as if that was a ridiculous notion, and closed his eyes, once more.
"Wait. Brother." He cracked his eyes open, and stared up at me in confusion, but I was sure I saw dread, there, as well. "Are you hungry?"
With an enthusiasm I hadn't realized he still was capable of, the Trickster's eyes lit up, and he nodded, his hands, which were still fisted in my tunic, finally releasing me in his excitement. I cracked a small smile, and lifted the still-warm bowl of soup from the table. "All yours." I told him, laying the soup on his lap, and pushing a spoon into his hands. He stared at the liquid in disbelief, as if it wasn't meant truly for him, or someone would take it away. But only for a minute, until he picked up the bowl in both hands, ignoring the spoon, and gulped it down in three swallows.
Placing the bowl back on the table, he glanced up at me with a hopeful smile. I was stunned. Dazed, almost. Loki was finnicky. He ate like a cat.
Apparently, not anymore. The man I'd brought back from the Sanctuary had changed. He was still Loki, in body, but he was not the Loki I knew. He was broken, shattered, pieced back together, and this shell, this hollow fragment of my brother was all we had left to go off of.
Silent, hungry, and who knows what else the Titan had forced upon him.
With a contented smile on his face, my little brother dozed off, again, and it struck me, suddenly, that I hadn't seen him smile so genuinely for years. With a smile of my own, I stood up, patted his shoulder fondly, and trudged out, into the hall.
Mother was pacing outside, her hands restlessly fidgeting, the only sign of her distress. "How is he?" She asked at once, rushing to my side.
"In body, I believe he's recovering, already." I answered. "But in mind…" My voice broke, and I stared at the ground. "Something's wrong. He won't speak to me."
Frigga nodded sadly, and fell into step beside me. "Have you considered a reason?"
"I can think of no purpose to it."
"Perhaps he has had damage to his throat." She suggested.
I shook my head. "Lady Eir mentioned nothing that would render him mute." She'd mentioned everything else under the sun. Loki had seemed like a survivor of a bilgesnipe stampede, earlier that morning, but Eir had patched him up, for the most part. Besides the extreme emaciation, the majority of his wounds would likely heal in a fortnight, given his typical healing rate.
We were silent for a while, as we walked towards Odin's chambers. "Perhaps he's afraid of me." I blurted.
"Has he acted frightened of you? Or simply held his tongue?" Mother questioned.
"Well, he seemed frightened at first." I admitted. "But not anymore. He's calm, and he smiles at me, now."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Then I think we can rule that option out. He's always been a little different, Thor. You know this. He'll loose his tongue when he feels like it."
With that, she gave me a smile, and slipped into Odin's chambers. He was in the Odinsleep, again, which was probably for the better. Loki had always been afraid of him, as hotly as he'd denied it, and he was already traumatized. It would be better for both of them to wait until Loki was more emotionally stable.
The sun was high in the sky, as I made my way out to the stables. All my life, riding had helped calm me down. It was something about the raw power of the beast beneath me, the speed, the potential to go anywhere, do anything, it exhilarated me.
The wind whistling in my ears, the pounding of my steed's hooves on the dusty path through the forest filled my mind and heart. I took a path I'd often seen, but never been down, before. It reminded me of Loki, for some reason. It may have been that my brother was the most prevalent issue at the moment, or something about the beautiful mysteriousness of the atmosphere, but I could've sworn I sensed Loki's aura, somewhere around here. I rode on, until I broke out of the woods into a beautiful meadow. There in the center, was a gorgeous, yet slightly imposing manor, like how one would expect a haunted house to be, yet not run-down or dilapidated. It was entrancing, and I dismounted, tied my horse to a tree, and stepped a little closer.
Someone obviously lived there, but who could it be? It was still on the palace grounds, and there was no way someone could get clearance for construction without Father or me knowing about it. Whoever lived here, they were probably either royalty, or a friend.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I walked up the front path, and rapped lightly on the door.
The servant who opened the door was young, her eyes wide and sparkling, honey-brown curls spilling down her back. She took one look at me, and squeaked. "Your Highness…" She breathed. "You're not supposed to be here."
"What?" I blurted in confusion. "This is the palace grounds! I have every right to be here."
She timidly shook her head. "I'm afraid not. You'll need to leave, immediately."
"By whose orders?"
She looked up at me, her expression hardening. "The master of the house's, supported by his Majesty, King Odin. My master ordered us not to allow any of the royal family on the grounds without explicit permission from himself or his wife."
"Who is he?" I demanded.
She only shook her head. "I can't tell you that. Now, you must go."
At first, I had thought this child was a timid little creature, but the way she spoke, now, made me sure there was a great fire in her spirit. Not wishing to anger whoever's home this was, as it was obviously a friend of the royal family's, I relented, and went back to my horse, my mind all abuzz.
This was enough of a mystery to pull my thoughts away from the endless loop of hopelessness surrounding Loki. Who in the world would be allowed to build a house on royal grounds, yet still have the audacity to deny entrance to the royal household? More importantly, who was allowed to turn down the royal family? It could be one of my uncles' summer retreats… but why would my uncles turn me down? They were all on good terms with me, and would welcome a chance to catch up. It could be a friend of Odin's, but who would turn down his friend's son, when he came for a visit?
It was all a mystery, to me. Perhaps Loki would be able to help me with the mystery. It wasn't too big of an issue, so I would wait until he had recovered, a little, before bringing it up.
TheOnlyHuman.