Hello readers! This chapter is really short, but I promise longer ones are coming. :-) In the meantime, enjoy the briefness!
Thor trudged back to the palace, already dreading the restlessness that plagued him so when he confined himself to his quarters. Spacious as they were, he still felt claustrophobic at the thought. He had delayed his return for as long as he could in good conscience, traipsing along the quiet, lethargic streets and past the ghostly houses that seemed to gape at him as he passed, shadows tricking his tired brain into seeing movement where there was none.
He had walked in the woods also for a time – a very short time, once he realized that this was one of the few places that Loki had deemed his sanctuary. Thor vividly recalled childhood days when he had been unable to find his brother for such a length of time that he began to worry, though his parents knew well Loki's hiding places. But, even when he had asked them, they had refused to disclose the locations. Thor had taken this with a child's grain of salt – not fully understanding, but accepting begrudgingly simply because his parents bid him do so.
Even now, centuries later and into adulthood, there were days when Thor would search for Loki, leaving no stone unturned or trapdoor unexplored. He would still come up empty. He knew not if Loki retained the same nooks as he had years before, but he had learned that, when his brother didn't wish to be found, it would be impossible to find him. And, should anybody stumble upon him by accident, his reaction would be volatile.
With a shudder, he remembered how Loki had snapped at him earlier that night when he had visited the prison. His response had cut Thor to the quick, reminding him of those times as children when Loki had wanted to be alone, but Thor had hardly understood, instead insisting that they keep each other company. Loki had always become cold – frosty in his demeanor and short-tempered.
Some things never truly changed.
Thor glanced back the way he had come, glimpsing stretches of Asgardian town that seemed so placid in the foremost hours of morning. Despite everything that stood between him and the dungeon, all he could see was the stone outcropping in the rock with a bolted door, two guards standing sentry before it. All he could see was his brother, sitting in his cell, knowing in some way unique to his intelligence that dawn approached – and with it, his trial.
He sighed and continued on, knowing not his direction or motivation – knowing nothing but his need for motion, monotonous and dull, to keep him from dwelling in the darker parts of his mind for too long. As long as he placed one foot in front of the other, he could keep the raging memories and fears at bay.
As he neared the palace, he stopped abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement among the trees. When he looked, he was rewarded: a dark figure stole through the forest in the exact opposite direction that he had been moving.
The hot-blooded hunter's instinct took him over, and he took a step closer to where the silhouette stood, temporarily still under the pale light of Asgard's moon. The person – for the image was humanoid in shape – seemed to be distracted by something in its hands. As Thor crept closer, he could see the head turning back and forth, the weight shifting between the palace and the path, the fingers drumming anxiously against the item cradled in the arms.
Occasionally, the figure would take a step back toward the palace, only to stop again and reverse completely. It dawned on Thor as he snuck nearer that the person was debating something – likely something having to do with the object it held.
He stood at the edge of the forest, now aware that the figure had its back to him. He could make out armor, though the person's overall build did not appear to be entirely threatening. Taking a quiet breath, Thor reached out and pushed away part of a bush to see more clearly, making a soft rustling sound in the process.
At the quiet noise, the figure whirled around, and both of them became stiff with surprise.
Sif stared back at Thor, eyes wide as stars. Her hair was down – an unusual thing for her – and she clasped a book tightly to her chest, her attempts to hide it in the folds of her arms more or less useless.
For a moment, they both just breathed, gaping at each other. That moment stretched on until it became uncomfortable, and Sif's brow began to crease into a slight scowl. Thor awkwardly broke their gaze and let the bush snap back into place, concealing her once more, and, as soon as he had moved far enough away, he looked back and caught a glimpse of her running off in the direction of the prison.
Thor knew that many things lay between his current vantage point and the dungeon; he also knew Sif, understanding her intent and immediately knowing that she would not be stopping until she was outside Loki's cell.
He briefly wondered if he should have warned her about Loki's perturbed state, advising her to let a sleeping snake lie, lest she too wind up getting bitten. Yet something within him told him that she was already more than aware of this, and she still proceeded with the bravery of a soldier. Also, he granted, she may just be able to help him; women could sometimes do what men – even brothers – could not, even if they scarcely behaved as a lady at all.
Thor hoped that Sif would be able to bring Loki as much peace as she could spare – he would need it in a few hours' time.