Warnings: PG (at best)

Thor takes a deep breath.

It does nothing to calm the flutter in his chest, where his heart beats. Behind this door is a realm that Thor cannot hope to understand. Loki – Thor's breath catches – Loki always came here without fear. Marched in, head held high, as if he had some right to cross this threshold.

Perhaps he did.

Thor knows not.

He believes it though. Loki was many things. Magic being the foremost. While others might practice the art, Loki was that mystic force. Their mother says Loki, most likely, was born with it. Thor can remember him being able to embody the power, even from an early age.

0/0/0/0/0

"Mother," Thor says, as he watches his baby brother levitate his crib. A baby giggle resounds throughout the room. Thor's forehead wrinkles. "Won't others be scared of him?"

"Are you scared, my son?" comes the heavy answer. His younger self cannot see the weight in this question, but Thor can see it now.

"No." Thor shakes his head, biting his lip, frown deepening. "Loki never hurts me. He likes me."

"Yes," mother says, pulling Thor to her lap. "And you must never abuse that love, my son. It is a rare gift, that a magic user trust someone so completely."

0/0/0/0/0

How easily Thor crushed that trust over the years. Oh, Loki was no innocent. He provoked many an incident between them. But…Thor grimaces. It accomplishes nothing, standing here like a child. He is no youngling. He knows his path has led him here, before his mother's weaving room, for a reason.

Thus, Thor straightens. His breath fogs in the crisp air wafting through the open window. Frigga insists it needs to be open at all times. Why, Thor hasn't a clue, but open it stays. Regardless, he knocks softly on the oak door. He pretends that there is no echo that follows. Nor does he feel a warm breeze brush against his hair in the dead of winter.

"Come in, my son," his mother's voice says, clear as if she were standing next to him.

Thor does so.

The smell of summer rain wafts across the air first. It is always the way with his mother's magic. Loki's smelt of autumn….though, in recent years, Thor can remember catching the scent of decay as well. His mother says that a person's magic reflects their inner peace. Thor mourns what this means for his little brother.

"I see The Rivers have called to you," his mother says. She smiles gently. "Come, let us see what they have in mind."

Thor crosses the stones and sits, as he once did, at her feet. The stone is heated beneath him, no doubt triggered by his mother's magic. Frigga smooths her simple dress and places a pale hand on a piece of red thread, feeding it into the loom before her.

The curve of his mother's loom reminds Thor of an arching gate, one that opens the doors to visions of the future. For that is what his mother sees when she touches the loom. Visions, glimpses from the streams of time. The gift – or curse, depending on how one saw it – has been passed down through Frigga's family, from mother to daughter, for generations. It is something that Thor, honestly, does not understand…and is more than a little frightened of.

Tender fingers stroke his hair and he looks, away from the loom, to his mother. She smiles down at him, while her other hand continues to weave the pattern of her vision. The loom moves on its own now as she threads the red in.

"So serious is my son these days."

"No more than I should be," Thor rejoinders. "I have lived too merry for far too long. It is time I proved myself to my people."

"And to yourself?"

Thor glances away, resisting the urge to fidget. "Mayhap."

A small sigh, though Thor cannot tell if it is a relieved one or filled with sadness. Frigga ever did warn him of his brash ways, counseled him to slow his fists. And now that he has, Thor cannot help but think she is…glad? It is not the right word to describe his mother's feelings.

Loki would know, a jealous part of his mind whispers. Thor firmly puts that petty emotion back where it belongs, outside of his mind. Loki is not here. And I cannot keep leaning on him for everything; neither in strength or weakness. It is past time I stood for myself.

"Should I fear what thoughts you think of now?" his mother says, and this time Thor can see the tinge of sadness in her smile.

"Nay," Thor returns, clasping her hand in both of his large ones. "I seek only to grow into someone the realms can trust. I find that taking time to think helps me."

"Take care not to think for too long, my son," Frigga cautions, her eyes glazed in shadows. "Ere you miss your chance."

Thor tightens his grip on her hand. "What have you seen? What path am I to take?"

Her eyes clear and she takes a shaking breath. "You must leave for Midgard at once, Thor. Your brother has need of you."

"Mother, please, is there naught else you can tell me?" There are scant times where Frigga has withheld her visions, for to tell would bring the ruin of the worlds. It is a heavy task his mother bears.

His mother's gaze searches the hidden paths. "Much is cloaked in darkness from me, but there is a group that has captured Loki. Their symbol is that of a red skull – "

"Hydra!"

She takes her hand from the loom. "You know of them?"

"The Captain – Steve Rogers – spoke of them. He thought them destroyed." Thor scowls. "It seems some roots still survived."

"Indeed. Malicious and evil is their intent. I presume they seek power from your brother. I feel pain and sorrow in his magic." A single tear escapes her eye, rolling down her cheek like a tiny diamond. "Go to him. Save him."

Thor nods and leaves without a word. Frigga will have need of her handmaids during this time. Thor steps to the pedestal, near the corner of the door. He presses a hand to the green ball that lies cushioned on the dais, silently alerting the women to his mother's requirements as the ball reads his mind. That done, Thor goes outside and turns to the garrison in the northern sector.

Down the winding side road, pass the Great Hall, Thor walks. His footsteps crunch in the snow-covered path. The tiny pearls of frozen water glisten in the sunlight, reminding Thor of armor flashing. He bites his lower lip slightly. It's a habit from his childhood days. The pressure helps him think, though he makes sure never to do it in front of his friends. He must appear strong and sure before them, and his men.

His men…

He has men…but…should he take troops with him? Would it help? Thor's steps falter. He cannot say for certain. He knows too little of the true situation. Mayhap a large force would frighten this Hydra into harming his brother, perhaps even killing him.

Yet he cannot do nothing. Loki needs him!

And then it strikes him.

Heimdall.

The Guardian can tell him of Loki. Surely, his watchful eye has seen all. Thor whirls about and strides towards the Bifrost.

0/0/0/0/0

It's a confusing mixture of cool and heavy in the Observatory. Thor almost expects to see his breath as he enters. Of course, it is but an illusion that Heimdall places upon the chamber. Something to do with his magic, Thor has no doubt. Perhaps it enhances the ancient force somehow for the Guardian? Makes it easier for the man to see the realms. Maybe it protects the Bifrost. Thor shrugs it off for later inspection, mayhap with his mother.

"You came at last, my prince," the Watcher says, his golden eyes never straying from his appointed task of scanning the realms.

Thor snorts. "You needn't be so smug about it."

"Smug, my prince?"

Ever the innocent, Heimdall. But Thor has known him since birth. He's felt that wicked humor too many a time to fall for such pretty words. Not anymore. And, he is here on urgent business. "I need your eyes, Heimdall. What see they of my brother?"

"Pain and sorrow."

Thor grips the hilt of his hammer. "Where is he?"

"With Hydra. He slowly remembers, and fights back."

A bit of something hard in Thor's chest loosens at this. Loki is becoming himself again. Thor's chest tightens again. And how does his brother find himself? Captive again. Tortured and brought low. With no one to aid him, just like with Thanos.

No.

Thor will not allow it this time. He cannot.

"Where, Heimdall? Where do they keep Loki?"

The Guardian takes his eyes off the realms for a brief moment, and Thor is able to see the deep gold in them. "Deep in the mountains of Russia. A small town whose name has been forgotten with time."

"Know you the name?"

"I do not." Heimdall's grip on his sword tightens. "Twas before my Guardianship. You could, perhaps, look in the archives, my prince. However, I can say it is near a small town named Shuya"

"There must be no delay." Thor nods. "Do the Avengers still reside in Stark's Tower?"

The Avengers. Those meant to watch over his little brother. Those who failed in that task. But Thor struggles to push the anger away. It cannot be his new friends' fault. He knows their bravery and kindness. They would not simply hand Loki over, and never to those as evil as Hydra. He prays none of them were harmed or killed in the attack – for surely that is how Hydra came to have Loki.

"Indeed," Heimdall says, interrupting Thor's thoughts. "They seek your brother with every means possible."

As well Thor knew they would. He should never have doubted them. "Are they much harmed by Hydra?"

"Very little, save their pride." Heimdall turns his sword and a path booms open. Colors of every spectrum roar into existence. "It seems Hydra has future plans for them."

And I did it! I actually succeeded in getting this out in October, like I said I would. And seven pages long too. I hope you all like how I wrote Frigga and Heimdall. I'm testing out how I want my magic people to speak and act. I think I'll stick to this, though Loki will probably be a bit different (you know, when he's all recovered and able to be the trickster that we know and love).

Lemme know who you want to see/read next, and any action you're dying to have. I love being inspired. :D

Next update: December. Because I am doing NaNoWriMo and work. No time to do FF.