A/N: First off, I am VERY sorry for how long this took to update, but unfortunately life happens. I'm sorry to keep you all waiting :(

Chapter 3

There were undeniable advantages to being king. One was that no one would dare tell him where he may or may not stand. Even now, as healers rushed around him while he watched from the edge of the room. As long as he remained out of the way, and he had no intent of doing otherwise, then they would not tell their sovereign that he could not be in the chamber.

Odin watched them work, his expression and demeanour deceptively calm. Eir, his chief healer, directed two senior healers and an assistant. She spoke in hushed urgent whispers that Odin could not clearly hear, the words hovering somewhere between comprehension and incomprehension. The female senior healer left, taking the assistant with her.

Eir closed her eyes, resting her hands on Loki's cranium, one by the wound and the other on his forehead. Her frown deepened and she opened her eyes to fix them on the elderly male healer opposite her. Odin could feel his hopes sink, he had feared the worse when Loki collapsed, but to see the grave expressions brought reality to his door. The diagnosis was clearly bad. He was glad that he had told his wife and son to remain behind; they did not need to witness this first hand.

Eir nodded to the man opposite, before straightening and stepping away from her patient so that her colleague could take her place. Leaving her subordinate to his work, she strode over to the All-father.

"Your Majesty," she curtsied.

"Is it fatal?" Odin was never one to beat around the bush.

"It is possibly, Your Majesty. The impact has caused damage beyond the skin and bone. I can sense pressure building within his skull and if we do not relieve it speedily, we may lose the prince."

Odin's eye flicked to his youngest as a razor blade was dragged against his skull to remove a patch of hair.

"Will he subsist?"

The healer paused for a heartbeat. "We will do what we can."

"That is not an answer to my question."

"I fear I cannot give you a certain answer."

A flash of annoyance nearly made him snap at the woman. He had been in countless battles, lost his brothers in blood and in arms, did she not think he could handle the blunt truth. That he was an old wife who knew nothing but her children and husband. He would not be insulted by such blatant side steps of answers. His words were carefully steady when he put the question to her a third time.

"Are the odds in my sons favour or are they against him?"

Eir seemed to realise that her king was not in the mood for evasive and reassuring answers and the anxiety that entered her eyes was as good as confirmation. Underneath his stoic mask, his heart painfully twisted and he wondered when he had become so attached to his child.

"I fear that the odds are stacked against him. If he had come to us earlier then perhaps this could have been avoided, but it may be too late. That does not mean that he is completely lost though; if we act quickly and he is strong, he may live."

The door opened and the female healer rushed in with her assistant. He paid her hardly any mind, ignoring the box and trays in their hands.

"Thank you," he muttered vaguely to the healer, "I must speak to my family."

He didn't wait for a reply, turning on his heel and marching from the room. He didn't need or wish to see them operate on Loki, and he had strong words for Thor.

(&)

Thor and Frigga had moved from the dining area, Odin having taken their appetite out with him. They relocated further into the chambers to sit in on a large comfortable lounger, a large pool before them and the great windows to their left that opened the entire side to the warm evening air. Thor did not see the pool, though his gaze was fixed upon the waters. He leaned against his mother as she caressed his blond locks, an arm wrapped around him. All he could think about was Loki. Was this his fault?

"Mother, Loki will be well again, will he not?"

She kissed the top of his head and tightened her arm around him. "Of course he will, my dear. Your father will take him to the healers and they will see that he is right as rain again. You just need a little patience."

Patience. Thor had never been good with that. He swallowed down the fear that congealed in this throat, making it difficult to breathe. "Is this my fault?"

"Why would it be your fault?" The voice of his father cut through the air, crisp and clear as it ever was.

Thor immediately sat up straight, his hopes soaring. Shrugging out of his mother's arm, he watched as his father walked round to where they sat. The prince sought out his brother only to find no sign of him, tearing his hear down from where it had risen.

"Where is Loki?" he demanded.

Odin stopped before him and Thor didn't think he'd ever seen him so stern.

"He is with the healers. Where did you think he would be?"

The boy blinked in confusion. "But…why is he not with you?"

He turned to his mother, as if she could provide him with an answer, only to find her frighteningly pale. Whatever for? He looked back to his father.

"Why did you not take him to the healers immediately?"

Thor looked at his father, his mouth working wordlessly. Why was this about him?

"I-I-he was well. It was only a bump."

Odin's eyes narrowed and Thor cowered back a little. "And how did this 'bump' happen?"

"Loki said. We were play-"

"Do not lie to me," Thor jumped at the sudden rise in the king's voice.

"Odin-," his mother began softly, but she was cut off.

"No, not this time Frigga. I will have the truth of this matter." The king's eyes never left his son's. They bored into his, cutting through the lies and deception, burning shame into his core. No longer able to keep eye contact, he looked down at his hands. "Answer me."

Thor opened him mouth, but words eluded him. His father would be able to see though any of his lies, only Loki could fool him and not every time, but neither could he find his tongue to speak the truth.

"Thor!" His father snapped, finally losing his tolerance for his boy's silence.

"Son," his mother's voice was gentle, a hand resting on his shoulder to prompt a reply. The plea fanned the flame of shame in his belly, twisting his insides with guilt in a way his father's couldn't. "Please, we need an answer."

And with that soft plea, he discovered the words, just not the ones his parents needed.

"How is he?"

"Ill."

"But he will recover?" Thor wasn't sure why he asked, because the answer was obvious. Of course his brother would recover and he would do so soon. However, the air remained heavy and void of an answer.

Alarmed, Thor sought his father's face for reassurance. Instead he found it stoic, it could have been carved from stone if it wasn't for the worry buried deep in the eyes. He wanted to be sick. It couldn't be right. The healers could mend anyone, any injury. He turned to his mother, seeking the comfort and reassurance that she always offered, but instead all he found was anxiety and sadness.

He shook his head numbly. "But, the healers…," he started, "their magic…"

"Can only do so much against a wound within the skull," his father finished.

Thor's gaze shifted between his mother and father, blank in confusion. He was caught between two questions; unsure which was more pressing to him. He neither understood why the wound could not be 'magiced away', a term Loki would hate, nor how it came to be in the skull in the first place. It was not as if he had taken the great hammer itself and struck out at his brother.

Beside him his mother sighed. "Your brain, the mind, is a delicate thing. Normally it is protected by the skull," Thor nodded, he knew this, "but when a wound is within the skull itself, it cannot protect you anymore." Thor nodded again, that made sense. "If a healer tries to use magic within the skull, even to heal, then the mind is unshielded. It disturbs the mind, addles it, so that it is damaged beyond repair. If they try to heal Loki with magic, they may do more harm than good."

The prince slowly dipped his head. He understood…perhaps. He understood the last sentence at the very least and that was the vital part.

There was another question on his mind. "What relevance does this have to Loki? His wound was not that deep?"

"Sometimes the damage runs deeper than we realise."

Thor's head swam, the situation dizzying him as he tried to grasp the implications. He had done this. He had done this to his little brother. Had he killed him? His stomach violently jerked and he leaned forward to bury his head in his hands. He was vaguely aware that a groan had passed his lips, but he could not find it within him to care. How could this have happened? He had not pushed him hard. He hadn't meant to push him roughly. How had his brother spiralled down so quickly?

"Thor," it was his mother, "What do you hide from us?"

The prince screwed his eyes shut. How could he tell them what he had done? That he had possibly… He took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. He hadn't meant to do it. It wasn't murder. He hadn't meant to do it. It wasn't murder. He hadn't meant to do it…

No matter how many times he said it, it never gave him any comfort. He had done it, that's all that mattered.

"Please," his mother begged of him.

He tried to comply, he really did. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat.

"Now!" Odin's sharp demand lurched him out of his dumb spell and the words rushed out.

"It was an accident. I did not push him hard, I swear. I-" he choked around his guilt, "We argued and I pushed him. I only pushed him away and not roughly." He looked up, meeting his father's eye to implore him to believe him. "He hit my cabinet and fell, but I thought-. I did not…I did not mean to harm him." The last part was a half-heartedly added as he shied away back from his father's gaze.

"You lack control." Thor merely nodded at Odin's chastising. He couldn't deny it so he looked away. His father sighed heavily and when he next spoke, it was weary. "Why did you not take him straight to the healing rooms?"

Thor looked back up, his eyes wide and imploring. "He was well! I promise you that. He awoke and seemed sound enough. I did not think there was any need."

"He was unconscious, surely that was enough to tell you he required a healer."

"But, when he woke he was healthy."

The All-father frowned. "Truly? No headaches? No sickness?"

Thor fidgeted with the cuff of his tunic. "A little," he admitted, "but he was soon well again."

"And these symptoms did not return until he collapsed at dinner?" Again, the golden prince was struck dumb, focusing on his selves instead. "I see. Go to your chambers and remain there until I say otherwise."

Thor's head snapped up. No! He had to see Loki. If his brother was gravely injured then he had a duty to go to his side. "But-"

"Now!"

The bark sent him running from the room, speeding towards his chamber with what were most definitely not tears in his eyes. Throwing himself on his bed he tried not to weep, because true warriors never cried, and prayed to whatever force would listen to him that he had not just killed his brother.

(&)

Thor was torn. He sat in the centre of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, supporting his crossed arms where his chin rested. He stared at where Loki had collided with the cabinet that morning, noticing for the first time a dent in its surface. He wanted to visit his brother, he really did, and his worry was making him sick. He'd been trapped in this room for three hours and he had no idea how his brother fared.

He felt as if a great void had crawled into him and was spreading through his body. His head ached as denial chased guilt around his mind, caught between staying put and sneaking to his brother's side. If he was responsible for all of this, then he shouldn't be sitting here like an obedient dog. However, if he if he left his room, he would be directly disobeying his father's command. He did not think this was the wise course of action to take in this situation and for once he was willing to listen to wisdom. Though, if truth be told, he was scared. Scared to see Loki and confirm that this was all true and not some horrid trick of his mind. But, he couldn't simply abandon his brother.

He stood, for the seventh time that hour, and made it off his bed before changing his mind and sitting back down. He didn't want to just sit here, but he couldn't leave.

This was ridiculous. If Loki were in his place, then he would have slipped out without a second thought. Within ten minutes, he would have been gone, but then Loki always has a nasty habit of finding himself in trouble, much like now. Normally Thor would come to the rescue, but this time he had caused the damage. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. No, this wasn't fair; he had barely pushed his brother. If the younger boy wasn't so weak, if he actually bothered to dedicate himself to strengthening his body rather than his mind, then maybe he wouldn't be in this situation. No, that was unfair. There was only Thor to blame for this.

He was on his feet again before he could think, letting his feet carry him to the door before he could think better of it. However, just as he approached the entrance, it swung open of its own accord. He managed to jump back just in time to avoid being struck in the face and he watched as his father stepped into the room. As the king closed the door and stared down at him, Thor swore his heart beat slowed until it stopped. Odin seemed calmer than before, which Thor hoped was a good sign.

"How is Loki?"

"Your brother is resting."

That was good, wasn't it? "So, he will recover?"

"That is still uncertain," Thor's breath hitched, "but the healers have higher hopes for him now."

He could have crumpled to the ground from the relief that swept through him. "Can I see him?"

Odin surveyed him for a moment. "I must speak with you first. Do you know how serious this is? How much harm you may have done to your brother? How fatal this could have been and still may be?" The prince nodded. He did understand…well, he understood most of it. He still didn't understand why Loki had come to be so severely injured, but he understood the essence of it. "Your actions could cost your brother his life." Thor didn't need to be reminded of that. "You are barred from the training field and sparring."

Thor looked up at his father in horror. "No! That is not fair!"

Odin's eyes flashed, making the prince question the intelligence of his objection. "Not fair? You dare object over fairness after what you have done?"

"But, my arms lessons, my combat lessons have nothing to do with this. If I stop…I need to be the best as the eldest prince of Asgard."

"Then you will have to learn quickly when you return. Until I am confident in your ability to show some restraint, you will attend lessons with the healers. They may be able to teach you some valuable lessons that will prevent these events from repeating itself."

Thor looked at his father speechless. Not only was he losing his favourite lesson, but it was to be replaced with something unspeakably dull and unmanly.

"But healing is for women! I need to apply myself to men's work."

"When you learn to control yourself like a man, then you can train like one. This is meant as a punishment," Odin reminded his son, "but this is also a chance to grow and learn. Once I am satisfied with your progress, you may return to the training fields, and you will be taught control. I have no intention of turning you into a healer, but a little knowledge may go a long way. Am I clear?"

Thor bit back his protest and nodded. His initial outrage fading as it dawned on him that he probably deserved this punishment. Perhaps it was a fair penance for him to pay.

"I understand."

"Then you may visit your brother."

Bowing his head he slipped past his father and through the door, away from the air that clogged his lungs like smoke and away from Odin's stern stare that made him feel like a petulant infant.

(&)

Thor had been so eager to get to the healing rooms, but now that he found himself here before the large double doors, the prospect of entering was daunting. The fear of what he may find stopped him from pushing the entrance open and moving inside. Swallowing, he took a deep breath and summoned up his courage. Tentatively, for perhaps the first time in his life, he pushed the door open.

The healing wing was a series of rooms joined together which were open to all people and within easy access. They were divided into two halves, one for serious injuries and one for relatively minor injuries, slight breaks, cuts and the such. Naturally he entered the ward for serious injuries. The first room was the long hall that made up the recovery ward for the masses. Beds lined the walls, mostly empty, but several had screen around them. He doubted Loki would be in the ward with common soldiers. He should be in the private rooms, wherever they were.

"Your Grace?" Thor turned round to see a healer curtsying. Her golden brown tresses were pulled back into a lose bun at the nape of her neck and a few locks fell free when she rose again. Sharp hazel eyes fixed on him, but her smile was soft. "Would you like me to take you to your brother?"

He nodded dimly and fell in step behind her as she walked down the hallway. They passed a dozen beds that were mostly empty, however the prince caught a glance of a man with burns that ran from his right temple to his waist before the screens were drawn closed. The youth averted his eyes to the floor and tried to push the image from his mind, but the moans followed them down the hall, unnerving the boy until his guide lead him out into a large courtyard. The air was cool, but not uncomfortably so. It was warm enough for a couple of the healthier patients to sit and play dice together, despite it being past nightfall, before they were ushered back to their beds.

He was lead straight through and into a smaller, quieter square containing a well-tended garden with benches and tables. It was nothing extravagant, just enough to make the area more pleasant to their higher-born and wealthier patients. Ushering him through a door, the healer lead him down a brightly lit corridor, but this time it was lined with doors and not beds, but the sterile smell still hung heavily in the air. She stopped at the third door on the garden side and knocked, her hand resting on the handle. After a muffled call from the inside still pushed the door open. However, she did not enter, but instead stood back with another curtsey. Taking a deep breath, Thor stepped into the room, peeking round the door.

Loki lay in the centre of the spacious room on a large comfortable bed, far bigger than those of the men in the ward, but far smaller than the one in his room. He was snuggled into a nest of furs and pillows. He looked pale, even against the white of the cushion, but Thor thought he didn't look as ill as he had that evening. If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed his brother was merely sleeping. The bandage gave it away though, a thick wad of white linen wrapped around his head.

"Thor." His mother's voice was soft, but roughly jerked his thoughts from his brother. He hadn't even noticed her sitting by the bed. She placed her embroidery down and held her arms open in a silent invitation. He didn't rush over nor did he drag his feet. For the second time that evening he welcomed his mother's embrace, but didn't return it.

"He will live, will he not?"

"I am sure, he will."

It wasn't a definite confirmation, he noted, but it was better than nothing and better than what his father had offered. His father was a great man, a noble king, but giving empty comfort was not in his nature.

"I do not mean to hurt him," he said, needing his mother to understand that.

She kissed his cheek. "I know, my son."

"I am sorry."

"You need to tell Loki that when he wakes."

"What if he does not?" It wasn't like him, to be so negative, but he found it hard to be anything but in that moment.

She let go of him now to hold his face. "Where is my hopeful, happy Thor?" When he simply looked at her miserably, she continued, her voice sure. "We must never despair. Loki will wake up and we shall return to how we always were."

"Promise?" It was a child's question, but he didn't care, he wanted and needed reassurance. In return his mother soothed his hair like she had done when he was an infant and all he received as an answer was a sad smile.

(&)

Thor spent what was left of the evening with his mother and brother. He dragged a seat up to the bed and sat, watched, fretted, shifted, yawned, fidgeted and kicked his legs, but he stayed by his brother's side. As he began to drift off in his chair, his mother sent him to his chambers, much to his dismay. He had argued, but the queen would not be easily moved in such a matter. She was adamant and Thor trudged from the room to find sleep.

Sleep was not easy to find though. Despite being so tired during his vigil, his fatigue fled him as soon as lay amongst the bear furs and geese down pillows. When he finally fell into slumber, he woke after a mere hour in a cold sweat haunted by the ghosts of his dreams. The echoes consumed his mind. Him murdering his brother, beating his head until it cracked and blood flowed like the Slidir River to drown him. He could almost still taste the blood in his mouth and dry-retched. He wiped the sweat from his brow and the urge to check on his brother, to confirm that the dream was just that, was too strong to resist. He threw off his night clothes, donning a light tunic and trousers, and slipped out of his room.

The normally bustling corridors of the palace were empty and eerily silent, save for the occasional guardsman on patrol, making his passage to the healing rooms swift and unobstructed. It wasn't until he was leaving the ward and entering the courtyard that he was spotted.

"Prince Thor?" He turned to the hushed voice to see the brunette healer who had guided him earlier that evening. A lantern hung in one of her hands, bathing her face in a warm glow. As soon as the circumstances caught up on her she hastily curtseyed as well as she could with one hand full. "I thought Her Majesty had sent you to bed."

"She did, but I wish to see my brother."

"It is not two hours past midnight, Your Grace."

"I-" he bit back the truth, it was silly and childish urges that brought him here, but bring him here they did. He held his head up a little higher, lifting his chin and willing his jaw not top tremble. "I still wish to see my brother."

The healer looked at him with such sympathy in her eyes that he knew that she saw through him and he wished that only a little of Loki's skill had brushed off on him.

She gave him a kind smile. "Of course. Can you find the way?" He gave her a small nod, but just as he turned round she spoke again. "Your Grace," he paused, "There is no shame in fearing for your brother, nor is there in shedding tears."

He looked back at her. "True men are strong. Tears are for housewives."

Her expression fell slightly, but not into dismay, but something he strongly suspected was pity. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but all men weep when there is cause to do so. Even the greatest hero cries and fears for those he loves, it does not show weakness, but love."

Thor turned away. "My parents do not."

"I think they do more than you realise. They are with him now."

He digested the information. To fear for someone…yes, he could see little wrong with that, but strength was to rise above that and not let it dictated your actions, like his did now. As for tears…He had never seen a man cry and to think of his heroes, his father, doing so made him uncomfortable. It seemed wrong to him...womanly. The divide was clear in his mind, men did not cry. He appreciated the woman's efforts to comfort him though; it was good of her, even if he did not quite take her words to heart.

"Thank you," he muttered, before running across the yard and away from further conversation. Though meant kindly, her words did little to calm his mind and body. She was a woman, a healer; want did she know of the strength of warriors and men?

In the garden square the windows were dark, except for one from which a faint light spilled out from the where it stood ajar. Loki's room? It must be if the healer was right. He very much doubted that his parents would sit in the dark and no one else would be allowed to visit their loved ones at this time. However, if his mother was still by the bedside, he wouldn't be permitted back into the room. If he attempted to check on his brother then he would be sent away again.

He crept forward. His mother would hear the door open, but if she was asleep then perhaps he could sneak in through the window. If he happened to fall asleep as well, then there was nothing they could do about it in the morning. What was done was done. What of his father though? He would not fall asleep. Maybe it was safer just to peek in through the window, check on Loki and leave. If both of his parents were in slumber then all the better for him.

As he drew closer, stepping as quietly as he could, he could here whispered voices. He could immediately recognise his mother; he could know her soft, steady tones and warmth anywhere, even if the words themselves escaped him. He only recognised his father because of the healer's words. Without the firmness, strength and power that were always present, the voice could have been a stranger's. What remained oddly frightened Thor, it was so foreign to him.

He sat below the window, straining to distinguish the words, but only a few filtered down until his name broke through.

"…Thor?" He rose a little and strained to hear what they said.

"I cannot deny it," his father sounded heavy, tired even, "I expected better judgement from him."

"He was scared and ignorant of the consequences of his actions."

"And what if that always excused poor choices? He must think in order to be a good king. Not let petty, selfish doubts stand in his way. A good king, a good man, face the consequences of want he does. He does not run from them."

Thor cringed with shame at the words. Though they lacked the king's earlier steel, the disappointment in them now was hardly any better.

"He is a long way from being a king; he is still a child."

"Yes, he is."

A silence descended upon them, heavy and awkward to the boy. Thinking that the talk was finished, Thor moved to leave; there was no chance of checking on his brother now and so little point of sitting here for the rest of night. However, his mother's voice stopped him.

"You never believed that you would become so attached, did you?"

Thor frowned, not understanding the question, and waited for his father's response.

"I knew you would, your heart is too great not to. As for myself," his father paused for long moment. "I knew I was not simply returning with another spoil of war, but I never dreamed that my feelings for the two would be so close."

Thor lost any interest in the conversation as it became apparent that they had moved onto a subject that he knew nothing about. He cared little about looted trinkets from years gone by. What he cared about at this moment was his brother, and it was apparent that he would not be able to see him tonight. He felt more at ease than when he woke though. With two of greatest figures in all the nine realms, at least to Thor's mind, watching over Loki this night there was little to fear.

He moved away, returning to his room and out of ear-shot of the conversation. He missed his parents' final words.

"We should tell him."

"He is our son now. What does his parentage matter?

A/N: And we have the end of chapter three. I can promise you that next chapter will be up sooner :D

Secondly, thank you so much for the great response from the last chapter. Thanks to all the Guest reviewers and non-signed in reviews, who I can't really respond to, for your kind words and taking the time to leave a comment. :D

jaquelinelittle: I did have to grin at how right you got it in the review.

Blitz: Sorry it took so long

wolftattoo: Yeah, not Thor's brightest hour here. Young Thor doesn't quite know his own strength and the potential danger, but...not a good excuse.