It started small.

A light bruise here, a slight limp there. All of which vanished rather conveniently the moment Thor brought them up in conversation.

So, after a while, it seemed better just to keep his mouth shut. There was less confrontation that way. And besides, he knew Loki. His brother was a master illusionist. If he didn't want Thor to see something, Thor wouldn't.

That didn't stop the nagging tendrils of worry from twisting around his heart. Things had finally started to look up again. And now this. Thor snuck a sideways glance at his brother. Whatever this is.

As Loki closed his conversation with Heimdall and sidled off to who-knows-where, Thor narrowed his eyes. His brother's illusions could conceal many things—this he knew very well—but it couldn't hide the slight limp in Loki's gait. Barely noticable if one wasn't paying close attention.

But Thor had never paid better attention in his entire life than in that moment.

Maybe it was time to pay Loki a quick, intervening visit. After all, something wasn't quite right, and as Loki's king—and older brother—it was Thor's job to find out what.

Rising from his makeshift throne, from which he'd been watching the stars fly by and contemplating the topics he would need to broach at the next council meeting, Thor nodded at Heimdall.

"I'm going to patrol the ship awhile," he said with a distracting grin. "You know, make sure everything's still running smoothly."

"Of course," Heimdall replied, nodding once in return. "I will see you later at the meeting."

"Right. Would you make sure that the Valkyrie knows, too?"

"I'm sure she's been well informed, Your Highness."

"Well, we both know she could probably use the reminder." As Thor made to leave, he hesitated a moment. "Oh, and did Loki, uh, say where he was going?"

A knowing look clouded Heimdall's face. "You know he rarely ever does."

"Uh, right. Well, see you, then."

"But," he heard Heimdall add as he descended the dais, "the prince has been known to wander down to the storage chambers to check our supply levels. Another place I would check would be the bar."

Thor snorted, "Val's probably there, if we're being honest, and they wouldn't be caught dead drinking together." He turned and flashed the Gatekeeper a smile. "But I guess it's worth a check. Thank you."

"Of course."

Checking on the supplies. Thor smiled to himself as pride blossomed in his chest. Despite being the God of Mischief, Loki had always been one for order amidst chaos. Now, at least he could put those skills to good use.

Sometimes, Thor half expected him to steal the Commodore and disappear into the stars. It wouldn't have come as any sort of surprise, knowing his brother as he did. And yet, Loki continued to stay. Damned if Thor knew why. He just couldn't figure it.

As he drew further down toward the cargo hold, several faint shotus cut through the stillness. A heated argument, no doubt. Thor rolled his eyes. The people were exhausted, confused, and getting antsy—he knew that. But did they really have to pick fights with one another? Whatever happened to banding together in the midst disaster?

Heaving a sigh, Thor picked up his pace. There wouldn't have been any infighting if Father were still king, came his dismal thought as the shouts grew louder. Ragnarok wouldn't have happened in the first place if he hadn't left us.

Never mind all that, though. It was in the past. There would be plenty of time to properly grieve later. Later.

"Oh, please," a familiar voice rang out, sending shivers down Thor's spine. "Do you truly expect me to believe that none of you had figured it out? Four years and you're all just as gullible as ever—"

The sickening sound of a smack echoed through the hall and Thor picked up his pace until he was almost at a jog.

"Why you worthless little deceiver." The voice grated against Thor's skin as he hurried, piecing the scene together in his mind—and he wasn't liking the way the picture was turning out. "This one's for Odin."

The voices were at their loudest now—so was the crack and the subsequent grunt of pain.

When Thor rounded the corner at last, he nearly smacked face first into Loki, who stumbled backward hard and fast. Instead of crashing, Thor grabbed his brother's arms to steady him, only for Loki to flinch and jerk away. Well, try to, at least.

Thor's grip held fast.

As their gazes briefly locked, Loki's eyes widened with recognition. A flash of green lit up the room, and the next thing Thor knew, he was in his room, Loki still within his grasp.

What the…?

Seconds crawled by under the weight of a heavy silence. Then, Thor felt a slight pull and Loki twisted free, breathing rather erratically.

"Loki, what—?"

But the young prince held up a hand. Silence, it commanded. Despite possessing an authority far greater than said hand, Thor snapped his jaw shut.

A thin stream of blood trickled down Loki's cheek, taking its good old time in its quest to reach his chin. Around Loki's eye and cheekbone, different shades of red and purple painted their masterpiece.

Thor resisted the strong urge to wince. That black eye was definitely going to be sticking around for a while.

Feeling as though they had both waited long enough in strained silence, Thor reached out for his brother, only for Loki to flinch away, shoot him a glare through his battered eye, and retreat to the bathroom.

"Loki, what's going on?"

Following his brother did nothing as Loki seemed Hel-bent on avoiding Thor—a difficult feat in their small, shared room.

"It was fine, Thor," Loki ground out. "I was fine. The situation was under control. Then you had to show up." He grabbed a cloth off the sink and dabbed at the blood. "What was the king doing down in the cargo hold, anyway?"

"I could ask the same thing of the prince." Trying to peer at Loki through the mirror proved a difficult task since Loki kept shifting in such a way as to just barely block Thor's view.

Loki snorted at this comeback. "A prince of Asgard, am I? You can be flattering when you want to be, brother, I'll give you that much."

"Come on, Loki, I'm in no mood for games." On the contrary, Thor was in the mood to rip someone's head off. "What happened down there? Who were those men?"

"Your most loyal subjects, and again: I had it under control." However, his wince told a far different story.

"All right, that's enough." With a sigh, Thor stepped around Loki and snatched the cloth from his hand before he could protest. "Let me have a look at that…"

Though Loki made a show of trying to inch out of his brother's reach, Thor knew that's all it was: a show. While Loki had never been one to wait patiently while someone else tended to his wounds, he knew better than to challenge an angry Thor.

At least, Thor hoped he did. He also hoped that his rage was scrawled all across his face for his brother to see.

When he dabbed at the cut on Loki's cheek, the latter couldn't suppress a wince. Not before Thor noticed, anyway.

Sucking in a breath, Thor tried to meet his brother's gaze. It would've been a much easier task to catch a shooting star.

"Who did this to you?"

For his part, Loki played the role of the disinterested, impatient little brother well. And Thor would've almost believed his act, too, if it weren't for that glimmer of uncertainty—and was that fear?—in his bright orbs.

"It doesn't matter," came Loki's flippant reply.

"Well, it matters to me."

"Right. As if you're going to believe the word of the 'God of Mischief' over that of your beloved subjects."

"Loki, what are you talking about? What was going on down there?"

"You have eyes, don't you? Oh, sorry, eye. Forgot about that…"

"Whatever you're trying to do, it's not working. And do you really expect me to believe that you've been going around picking fights while you're still recovering from probably the biggest battle of our lives?"

"I've recovered just fine, thank you, and while your concern is greatly appreciated," Loki began, his voice drenched with a dry sarcasm that spoke volumes to the trained ear—and Thor had been training in the art of deciphering his brother's moods since they were children. "It's entirely unnecessary. And I wasn't the one picking fights," he muttered as he slipped out from under Thor's caring hand.

"All right," Thor said, forcing himself to breathe; to calm his ever-rising ire. Leaning against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed, he watched as Loki putzed about the room, feigning activity. "Who started it, then? Let's start with that."

"Hmm…" When Loki began organizing the glass bottles by the mirror, Thor found himself wishing they could crack open one of the bottles and simply share a drink with each other. That would be nice… "I can't remember."

"Loki…" His tone held a subtle warning, one that Loki chose not to heed. That's when the truth dawned on him.

Loki had purposely teleported them away before Thor could put names to faces. Before he could connect the dots. Before he could absolutely destroy the wretches who'd been beating up his little brother.

"Fine," Thor pressed, clawing for answers before Loki could whisk himself off to another room. "Let's forget the who for now and focus on the why. Why in the Nine Realms would they do something like this to you?"

Loki just shrugged. "I think the better question is: why wouldn't they?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" In the darkest corners of his mind, Thor knew the answer to his own question, but he had to hear Loki say it. He had to be sure…

He had to be wrong.

"Oh, Norns." Loki rolled his eyes and his reflection glared at Thor from within the mirror. "Do I have to spell everything out for you? They were angry at me and needed a way to expel said anger. Hence the face." For emphasis, he gestured a bit wildly at his back eye. "There. Was that simple enough for you? Or do you need me to break the explanation down further?"

Why…? But before Thor could voice this naive question, Loki flashed him that look of his, and the final pieces of the puzzle snapped together.

"Have I said enough, or would you like me to go back further than the past two days?"

"This was your doing."

"You worthless little deceiver!"

"I think the better question is: why wouldn't they?"

"This one's for Odin."

"Do I have to spell everything out for you?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

Realization must have dawned clear and bright across Thor's face because Loki let out a small hum, his own expression as passive as ever.

"I knew it would come to you if given the right amount of time. Now," Loki went on, straightening his collar, "not that this hasn't been a blast, I have better ways to occupy my time."

A cluster of golden sparkles swirled about his brother, eating away at every cut and bruise until he gave the appearance of normalcy.

Well, all except for that slight limp—the work of a bruised shin, no doubt.

"How long?" Thor's voice hung low, his tone leaving no room for argument. "How long have I been looking into the face of an illusion instead of my brother?"

"It's still my face, Thor."

"No." Thor started his slow trek across the room. "No, your face is bruised because someone saw fit to bash you in the eye. Your face is a riverbed for that stream of blood because you've got a great big gash on your cheek that you won't let anyone touch. Your face is one that would rather hide itself away in a corner than tell me who did this to you."

"And what good would that do?" Loki snapped, stopping Thor in his tracks. "Putting names to faces won't do anything except create a bigger mess out of a situation that's already been taken care of."

"Oh, so you've taken care of it already? Were you taking care of it when that guy slapped you? Or when you stumbled backward into my arms. Why don't you spell it out for me so that I'll be sure to understand."

"Thor, just stop! It doesn't even matter now!"

"It matters to me!" Why couldn't he see that? "I mean, you didn't even try to fight back! You could've at least tried!"

At this, Loki flinched. The movement was slight, but Thor had been looking for it.

"You could've fought back. You're way better than them—than anyone—in a fight. You could've taken them all down easily. Why didn't you? Unless… You don't…" The way Loki's shoulders hunched slightly told Thor all he needed to know. "You think they're right, don't you?"

"Well,"—And there was that all-familiar plastic smile of his, trying to throw Thor for another loop—"you can hardly tell me they're wrong."

"Okay…" Thor nodded, resisting the urge to suck in a sharp breath. "They may be right about what you've done in the past, but that's exactly where it is: in the past. And that's where those actions will stay. We've all done things we're not proud of, and perhaps you've done more than others, but that is no excuse for anyone to take out their anger on you."

"If you say so," Loki said a bit half-heartedly.

"Besides," Thor went on, "if their accusations concerning your character still held true, you wouldn't be here right now, would you?"

Loki raised a bow, but said nothing.

"And…" A heavy sigh pushed past Thor's lips. "Well, your stint as Father…" He shook his head. "I know it's partially my fault."

"What?"

As he spoke the words to his brother, Thor began to truly feel their weight for the very first time. "I'm not the one who made you do what you did, but I had a hand in it when I gave up the throne. It was my duty to rule and I gave it all up because I thought… I wanted… Well, the truth of it is that I didn't want to. Not at the time. Sometimes, I still don't…"

When Thor finally glanced up at his brother again, Loki was nodding slowly. "I did give you the chance to rule. Granted, I knew you wouldn't take it, but—"

"Wait a second, how were you so confident I wouldn't accept the throne?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Because I know you, Thor. Honestly, you truly are a bit dull sometimes."

"Well, maybe I'm not the only one."

"Pardon?" And Thor couldn't suppress a smirk at the sight of Loki's indignant expression.

"Ah, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?" Thor chuckled. "No, I was only trying to point out that you can't see what's right in front of you."

"And what would that be, exactly?"

"You still don't see it." Before Loki could interject again, Thor sucked in a breath. "What I'm saying: you went around for who-knows-how-long—I certainly don't because you won't tell me—trying to deal with this problem on your own—"

"I can deal with it on my own."

"—When I'm right here. Loki…" And if his voice cracked, neither made any comment about it. "I'm here. I've always been here for you. You just can't see it. I could've helped you; could've stopped this before it got out of hand."

The scoff that left Loki's lips lacked its usual bite. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Thor."

"Not for you, no. With you. I meant what I said back on Sakaar. I thought we would fight side-by-side forever. And now that you're here…" He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I thought things were finally going to be different. I thought, well, maybe things between us would be how they once were. Before everything…"

Silence choked the room as Thor waited for Loki to reply. He'd said his piece, now his river of words had run dry.

So, he waited.

Though Loki had always been a master of illusion and disguise, he couldn't seem to hide the deep lines of thought etched across his face.

Come on, Loki… Give me something.

Please.

After what felt like half a lifetime, Loki took a long, slow breath.

"I don't—" He cleared his throat, his gaze briefly meeting Thor's before darting away. "I… do want things to be different, but… not as they were before."

Thor raised a confused brow, but kept his mouth shut.

"I know," Loki continued, his infamous silver tongue now hesitant, careful, "that your words on Sakaar were true. Well, so were mine. Back on Asgard, before everything, I told you I only ever wanted to be your equal. So, while I agree that things between us can and should change, I don't want it to go back to how it used to be."

"Well," Thor said after a moment, cracking a small, yet warm smile, "it's a good thing life is constantly forward, not backward."

A perfect copy of Thor's grin mirrored itself on Loki's face. "I suppose so."

"Now." Thor clapped his hands together. "Let me take another look at that eye…"

Then, in three large strides, he crossed the distance between them.