Thor watched his brother's eyes flicker in pain before his knees hit the dirt, followed by his palms. The hurled cudgel that had struck the back of Loki's head spun off its original trajectory while Thor watched Loki's knife skitter across the floor of the stadium. Without hesitation, Thor launched his hammer – a miserly wood-and-stone mockery of Mjolnir, but the directors had declared Mjolnir too advanced to use in the tournament – at the attacker, sending her sprawling onto her back a satisfying ten feet away from Loki. Unlike Loki, she remained still after hitting the ground.
Thor looked around quickly for other approaching contestants as he hurried over to Loki, who was shakily starting to re-stand. Thor hauled him fully upright by the upper arm, telling him "She's out now, so only two other pairs between us and the exit – "
For some reason, Loki was glaring at him. From past experience, Thor found it best to meet his brother's sullenness with simple energy and enthusiasm whenever the situation allowed no time for the diplomacy that Loki preferred. Thor brushed off some dust greying the back of his brother's black hair as he said, "Not too bad an injury, I think, it'll be all right, just keep trying your best – "
"Why?"
"…You'll be al– what?"
Loki's question staunched Thor's stream of reassurance mid-word.
"Why?" Loki repeated.
Thor blinked at his brother. They had no time for this. The other pairs of contestants would be racing to the finish that very moment. "What do you mean, why?"
"Why should I keep trying my best? It does us no more good."
"How else are we to finish this?"
"Who says we have to?"
"It is a part of the Games!"
"Which is a part of their oversized egos, which evidently outweighs even yours, given how easily you let them dictate your play in this."
"Don't be snide."
"Then don't be stupid."
Thor let his eyes narrow at Loki. It felt wrong. It was normally Loki who stooped to those types of condescending expressions. "You just hate it because it wounds your own ego, because you seem so naturally terrible at it."
The audience in the elevated seats around them – accumulated like bacteria around a wound – murmured with interest as the two of them argued openly on the arena floor, their backs turned to the possibility of attacks from the other contenders. "And you only love it because it bolsters yours, because you're so naturally competent at it." He turned away from Thor, the dazzling lights overhead throwing the boney angles of his face into sharp relief.
Thor reached out a resolute hand to catch Loki's shoulder. He heard a fresh spike in the aghast delight of the spectators. If Loki tensed, Thor did not feel it through the layers of cold armour. He did, however, feel the full force of his brother's gaze turning slowly back to him.
"I'm sorry, but what is it do you think you're doing?" Loki inquired with a delicate civility like Thor had just asked him a question in a new language.
"Do not just turn away from me, Brother," Thor said darkly. "Now, there is barely half a league left of this obstacle course, and four more opponents somewhere that are racing this moment to beat us, so I shall win this for us both, and you can sulk in the shadows as much as you like while I do. I can find you afterwards." He adjusted his grip around the dusty hammer shaft.
There was a metallic clattering sound as the knife tumbled across the gritty floor to zoom back into Loki's palm. He still glared.
"Let's just go, Thor."
Thor inhaled deeply, like he could breath in the – their – audience's cheering. The white lights overhead sparkled as if in applause, too.
He turned to look at Loki, who was – Thor could have predicted – sulking beneath his deceptively neutral expression. Thor just patted the same shoulder he had grabbed earlier to make his brother face him. His own cheerfulness would eventually infect Loki as it always did.
"Stop this strange moodiness already, Brother! We've won another great tale to add to the sagas our historians will tell of us in years to come. How we won the Rikr-Tveir Games with ease." He added, "And with only a few arguments."
"You won," Loki shrugged, staring around at the admirers like a trapped fox being slowly approached by its hunter.
Thor chuckled, but just automatically. Over their decades together, he had developed almost reflex reactions to his brother's shows of oddness. Although perhaps laughter was not the most appropriate one in this instance.
Loki raised an eyebrow at him. Which was probably Loki's near-reflex reaction to many of Thor's doings.
"What do you mean?" Thor grinned. "I openly admit you also overwhelmed some of our rivaling pairs."
"Admit you hear them, Thor." Loki gestured towards the thousands of spectators.
They were both being approached by the suite of Games judges – the leading one bearing what Thor recognised as their trophy, Hrodr – but the crowds were chanting only one name.
Thor… Thor… Thor…
"We did finish it together." Loki shrugged again. "But you won. You always do." Thor watched him smile sweetly while speaking the bitter words, leaving Thor wondering if it left a strange taste in his brother's mouth.
He watched the smile warble and fall from his brother's face.
"What, Loki?" Thor asked.
"But I don't mind," Loki insisted, beseechingly. It made Thor suddenly ache, for some reason.
He let his hand rest softly on the back of Loki's neck. "I know, Brother."
Prompt for this one: "Game". What with all the Ragnarok business going down, I took the prompt 'game' to mean a (evidently gladiatorial) tournament of some kind.
More drabbles on their way (: Hopefully with a little more originality than this one, but I guess this particular series is just my do-what-I-want outlet.
