It doesn't go smoothly of course. Loki is pleased with his magic allowance and he is somewhat reassured by his preliminary permission to travel, but when he said he wanted to accompany Thor and be able to participate in public affairs, he was merely trying to ease his way for any future plots he might come up with and for which he would need this option.

Of course it ended with Thor constantly telling him where and when he was going and asking Loki to come to the point where Loki exploded and they had a shouting match in the hallway.

"I may be the trickster and silvertongue, but you far surpass everyone in your ability to twist everything to suit you! I said I wanted to choose where and when to go and you take it as permission to order me around like a dog on leash! It's the same sort of self-conceited, righteous way of thinking that made you ignore my refusal to bend to your desires!" Loki yells, tired of explaining the difference between possibility and duty.

Thor shuts up then, mouth closing into a grim line and eyes finding the floor.

"You take and take and give nothing in return," Loki continues quietly. "I don't know what I want more – your death or mine."

"I do not deny it was selfish, but I did what I did because I couldn't bear to see you die!"

"And wasn't that just a convenient way to save my life... you claimed to have no part in the All-Father's judgement and even if I believed you, I don't believe for a second that he didn't do this on purpose to please you!"

The completely stunned expression of Thor's face makes Loki want to pulls his hair out. The All-Father is a liar, a deceiver, a manipulative old bastard and even his true born son doesn't realize that.

"He wouldn't," Thor stammers. "If he knew-"

And Loki can see it – the centuries of fear ruling Thor's thoughts. No doubt he imagined that if he was found out, he would be cast out, shunned. Worst part is that Loki isn't even sure it's true anymore.

"If he knew, he would count on you to put me in my place," Loki spits, stalking towards Thor.

"That is not what I did," Thor protests, but it's clear his anger is slipping in favour of that hopeless state Loki's seen him in before and it makes him furious. He knows Thor's anger, his carelessness, his stubbornness. Those have been faithful companions of Thor's for most of his life. Desperation was never there. Neither was surrender.

He shoves Thor with both hands as hard as he can and Thor collides with the wall, not putting up a fight.

"Isn't it?" Loki crowds Thor, pining him with an arm underneath his chin. "How did it feel then? What were you thinking?"

And Thor is only mutely shaking his head and Loki cannot stand this. He presses the palm of his free hand against Thor's crotch lewdly and laughs when Thor's eyes go wide.

"Loki, stop," Thor begs, beginning to struggle for the first time.

"You want me to stop? Oh that's too bad, because this is what I want. How does it feel, Thor?"

Thor's hands are on Loki shoulders now and he is pushing him away in earnest, but he's missed his chance – Loki's hold on his throat is secure. Loki feels Thor through his trousers insistently.

"Are you not enjoying this? Do you feel sick? Do you feel violated?"

"Brother, please-" Thor's voice breaks into a sob and he stops attempting to free himself. He sags so suddenly that only Loki's arm at his throat is preventing him from sliding down the wall. Stunned, Loki jerks back and Thor indeed does fall, lying in a heap on the floor, wrecked with tears.

Loki is so startled that he finds himself covering his mouth with his hand, almost unaware of the gesture.

What in the Hel?

And it makes no sense. This is Thor. Loki has seen Thor shed a single tear and then go on trudging through life's misfortune, attempting to carve a new place for himself in a foreign place mere hours after he was told his Father was dead (not to mention the clear implication that Thor was at fault). He has seen Thor face the Destroyer, as a mortal man no less, and look death in the face with nothing more than quiet determination and sad smile. Loki, for all his skills in striking people where it hurts with words, has to his knowledge never made Thor cry... not since they were toddlers and not until they were married.

"Thor!" someone yells and Loki turns, not understanding for a moment what he sees. And then it becomes clear – it's Sif with six Einherjar at her back, all running towards them.

"Take him to the cells and prince Thor to the healing rooms!" she orders. Loki can hear Thor croaking no down on the floor, but he is ignored. Loki for his part says absolutely nothing and calmly leaves, two Einherjar flanking him, a third one securing him from behind. Thor is going to have a lot of fun explaining that he is not physically hurt.

He doesn't mind being restrained down in the dungeons. He needs to do some thinking and he might do that there as well as anywhere. He sits down, leaning his head against the wall and tries to make sense of what just transpired, but soft footsteps rouse him.

He blanches when he sees his Mother approaching.

He gets up and bows to her hastily, not daring to look her in the eye. He glimpsed her expression and it did not bode well for him.

"Will you listen to what I have to say without telling me that I do not understand the wrongs that have been done to you?" she asks softly.

"Yes, Mother."

"Something needs to change, Loki. Something within you. You are refusing to see that what you are doing is only going to lead to destruction and I do not believe even you would like the fallout."

And there is nothing he can say without breaking the promise he just gave her, so he is quiet.

"May I ask you some questions?"

What she really means, of course, is whether he will answer truthfully. He nods, trying not to fidget.

"Has Thor hurt you?"

"Yes!" he grits through his teeth immediately, eyes snapping up to meet her gaze. She doesn't seem angry, merely determined, but there is that soft look around her eyes that tell him she cares. She always has.

"And have you hurt him?"

"It's not the same."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yes," he admits. "I have."

"Well, there you have it then. I'm sure he is more than willing not to do it again. Can you say the same?"

He looks to the side, nervous. "I can try."

She sighs, but doesn't push him to make further promises and he's grateful. He knows he would break them.

"Come see me soon. Perhaps in time the three of us can have a nice, decent lunch together."

She's leaving and his nails are digging into his palms as inner fight rages within him. Her presence is at the same time soothing and riling, like ridding one of poison – it hurts, but in the end, it only helps. The temptation to just ask, to be given her wisdom and maybe find some peace...

"Mother," he calls out when she is almost out of sight, but she stops patiently and turns to him once more. "Why is he so... "

And he trails off because he cannot find the words to describe the incomprehensibly disconsolate state of his brother. The sight of Thor on the floor, shaking in panic or maybe terror is fresh in his mind.

She speaks quietly, but with strength and conviction and he doesn't doubt her for a second.

"He loves you more than he loves anything in the whole Nine Realms. And I believe you would not find anyone who feels and loves more deeply than he does. He loves you with perseverance of a god and urgency of a man. Do not seek to break such devotion, Loki."

When two stone-faced Einherjar come to free him that evening, he considers trying to claw their eyes out so that they would lock him back in.

Mercifully, Thor isn't in their rooms and Loki pours himself a hefty goblet of wine and lights a fire in the hearth, sitting down with a badly suppressed sigh.

Norns' laughing stock indeed.

He's raged and fought and maimed and suddenly it's like he's at the start again. His rage burned out. Destruction at his wake, but he takes no pleasure from it anymore.

He's not sorry. But he's not satisfied either.

His Mother's words are like bells ringing in his head and it's a terrible dissonance they play – because he trusts her and believes in her love, but he cannot reconcile what she told him with what he's lived. Can he?

Thor comes in when Loki is on his fourth goblet and he looks right ahead, walking past Loki into the bedroom.

"Thor," Loki calls out before Thor can disappear. He didn't even know he was going to do it before he opened his mouth. Thor's footsteps fade, the sole sign that Thor heard him. He's passed Loki already and Loki didn't turn, so he can't see.

He reaches for another goblet from the tray and pours wine to the brim, holding it out meaningfully.

And after brief hesitation, Thor takes it.

"You're not going to turn it into a snake, are you?" Thor asks and he sounds tired and ragged, but the humour in his tone is apparent.

And it's a horrible reminder of that day, but Loki laughs smoothly. "I've learned not to waste good wine."

Thor pulls up a chair and sits down. Their eyes meet for a moment and Thor looks away immediately, leaving Loki to clear his throat awkwardly.

"I'm sorry you were taken to the cells," Thor says after taking a large gulp of wine. "It seems we made quite the scene and the Einherjar were on edge since you attacked the two guards."

Oh, Loki almost forgot about that. Thor never mentioned it even though technically it was within his rights (and maybe even his duties) to correct the loophole.

He just shrugs. "It's to be expected. How did you fare in the healing rooms?"

Thor looks straight at him then, tight around the mouth.

"I'm serious," Loki adds.

"Sif thinks you cursed me. The healer gave me salve for bruised neck... and kept my confidence."

Loki drains his drink because what is there to say? He won't say he's sorry.

"Well, it's a good thing then that Sif's hatred of me made her forget I cannot harm you with my magic."

"She believes you found a way and I can hardly blame her for that." Thor's tone is collected and there is no real reproach in it. Loki wonders if Mother went to speak to him as well or if he put himself together on his own. Probably the former.

"No, I suppose I cannot either."

Loki pours them both more wine, collecting courage for his next question.

"Why don't you confide in her?"

Thor laughs humourlessly and Loki is growing tired of the gloomy sound.

"Which part?"

"Your other friends, then. I'm quite certain Fandral fucked a cow one time on Vanahaim. He's not one to judge you."

And Loki should really put the wine down now because this did not come out the way he intended it to and Thor's expression is already breaking, this time into anger.

He quickly rises his arms, palms up to silence Thor. "I didn't mean to be rude. Or compare myself to a cow," he tries to smirk to appease Thor.

"You are a cow," Thor murmurs into his goblet.

Loki just snorts.

"My point is... Volstagg is kind and he will always be on your side. Hogun either judges everyone equally or not at all, I can't quite tell, but it still makes him a good confidant."

Thor just shakes his head.

"I can't."

"Suit yourself," Loki shrugs. They drink in silence for a while longer and then stumble into bed together and Loki knows it's odd, so different (but ultimately anticlimactic) from the tiptoeing of past weeks, but he doesn't care. It's been a taxing day.

When he wakes, he notices three things – his head hurts a little, Thor is still beside him even though it's light out and there is someone knocking on the door.

No, not knocking anymore. Opening.

He raises his head and is met with the sight of apologetic looking Fandral hovering at the doorstep. Over his shoulder, he sees two emptied pitchers of wine of two goblets, one overturned and he has to wonder just how accurate his memories of last night really are. And something in Fandral's expression tells him that he saw the mess too and is making certain conclusions.

"My apologies," Fandral says. "Thor, were you not going to meet us on the training grounds?"

"Do you normally stick your nose to your prince's bedroom if he is late? Have you no sense of subordination?" Loki scolds Fandral, feeling particularly annoyed.

"Sorry, Fandral, I overslept. I will be there shortly," Thor says resolutely, ignoring Loki's complaining. Fandral gives them one more searching look and leaves with a light bow.

Loki drops his head back into his pillow.

A few seconds tick in silence and Thor doesn't move. Loki can basically feel the tension.

"I thought you were in a hurry," Loki notes airily.

Thor is still for another moment and then gets up with a sigh. Loki can see why as Thor passes the foot of the bed on his way to the bathroom, giving Loki an eyeful of his naked form.

So. They both got drunk last night and Thor forgot to put clothes on.

Loki just curls on his side and decides to sleep until his headache is gone, his Mother's warning still fresh in his mind. He will let Thor go on this one.

Thor comes back later that afternoon and Loki is immediately struck with a certain change in him. He looks a bit disturbed and maybe even upset, but he doesn't avoid Loki's company. Loki sits on a sofa, trying and failing to read while Thor paces around, shuffling things purposelessly, calling a servant to bring dinner and standing on the balcony for long moments, looking down at Asgard. All the while, he feels as if Thor doesn't even see him, not the way he's been for the past weeks.

Loki taps his fingers on the book's cover impatiently.

Finally, he can stand it no longer.

"Did you change your mind?"

Thor stops and looks up from some parchments he's been rummaging through. "About what?"

"Confiding in your friends."

"No."

Loki rolls his eyes in exasperation at Thor's inability to give him some proper answer, but the effect is lost as Thor has already turned away. A while later, he dresses, pulling a cloak over his shoulders and looks at Loki.

"Are you well? Do you need something?"

Loki arches his eyebrow and stares at Thor hard, gauging.

"I cannot imagine what you are expecting me to say."

"I am assuming you will say whatever suits you and that is what I would hear."

"Where are you going?" Loki demands, suspicious.

"A tavern," Thor replies distractedly, fixing his sleeve.

"A tavern," Loki repeats. "Just like that. For a night of drinking."

"Exactly."

Then Thor suddenly frowns as if the conversation has just caught up to him. "I'm truly merely going for a drink with the Warriors Three. Is something the matter? Do you want me to stay?"

"I am not in the habit of desiring your company. Shoo already," Loki dismisses him, turning his eyes pointedly to the pages of his book.

As soon as Thor is gone, Loki takes up the pacing after him, restless. He doesn't think Thor lied (though he tells himself he should not take Thor's truthfulness for granted anymore), but he still wishes to know what had his brother so distracted. He considers this morning and Fandral's blatant impudence. It leads him to think about how merely days before, Sif had basically run to Thor's rescue and arrested Loki.

He sneers at the empty room, chest filling with that old, dormant anger with every breath.

Of course he's not going to tell them about his perversions if they see me as the monstrosity in this marriage. Oh how they must pity him. How they must fear for his well-being, sleeping every night next to the snake.

Well. He would be sorry to disappoint their expectations.

He must rely on more old-fashioned means of concealment with his magic so restricted, but he makes do with a mixture of plain grey and black clothes and an old riding cape. He walks through the halls of the palace with his head held up high and only when he slips through an old passage that leads him to the lower city, he puts the hood on and hunches down significantly, giving his steps a bit of an uncertain sway.

It would be fun in another time, sneaking like this, using everything available to him to confuse and divert.

The sun has just set and Asgard's skies are lighting up with stars, as are people lighting candles and lanterns down below. He makes his way through the streets, heading for one of the taverns he knows Thor prefers. When he nears it, he takes turn into one of the alleys and approaches the pub from behind, hoping to listen to the barmaids gossip at the back. No matter how often Thor attends a place, there will always be talk about it.

He's lucky, the door to the kitchen are opened, letting out the steam and smoke and a cook is bustling about, preparing soup and a roast.

"Hurry!" she scolds someone Loki's can't quite see. "Take the bread out to the prince's table!"

He smiles, dropping his head even lower. He chose his first stop well. He slinks away from the door but stays in the alley, blending with the growing shadows and settles to wait. With his disguise so imperfect, he needs Thor and his companions to drink quite a bit of mead before even attempting to get closer.

Light draft scatters leaves around the alley, chasing out some of the smell of roast meat and other, much less pleasant scents and it occurs to Loki that this is the first time he's been out of the palace since he came back to Asgard.

Nothing has changed in the city.

He can see himself standing at this very spot, hiding under a cloak because he didn't learn how to make himself invisible yet, not because his powers have been bound, taken from him, tied to another's will. He can see himself spying on Thor to learn something embarrassing (abundance of drink or maybe a pub brawl gone bad) and use it as a leverage to gain favours from his forever naïve brother. Or, and that's the worst, he can see himself pulling the hood back with an energetic motion and striding into the tavern through the front door, being welcomed by loud hollering and a goblet of mean slammed on the table in front of him. He may have no desire of such companionship now, but it sours him to think that even more lies were woven around those supposedly happy times. Not only was he not really Thor's brother, but Thor also must have wished he wasn't.

"I'm not sorry you are my brother."

The memory comes unbidden, the voice in his head sounding partly like his Mother's, partly like Thor's. It makes no difference. He waits.

And yet his mind wanders, because what else is there to do? He grows perhaps too distracted, lulled by the distant noise of the tavern and the comforting, velvet darkness.

He stiffens slightly when stumbling footsteps sound behind him, accompanied by rowdy laughter. He turns slightly to assess the situation, but before he can see anything, a figure slams into him, bouncing back with a angry, drunk growl. Loki's hood falls back and the laughter stops as if cut off.

There are six men blocking the alley entrance, all staring at Loki. He would guess they are builders maybe, or smiths.

"Well would you look at that," one of them says, his voice rough and he is clearly quite drunk, but his tone is resolute. "The Jotun."

And it's shocking to hear it like this, from the lips of some scruffy peasant. There is no doubt in these men's minds that Loki is the lowest of low, far even beneath them.

"Mind your tongue," he scoffs, raising his chin.

"Ohoo," the men drawls, approaching Loki with a slight swagger to his step. The other men laugh, closing in subtly. "You think you have any business telling me what to do? On what authority?"

"On the authority of me ripping you to shreds if you don't walk away," Loki says calmly, bending his fingers back and forth meaningfully.

"I thought they put a muzzle on you, Jotun," the man just shrugs and Loki feels a sheen of sweat rise on his forehead when he realizes these men know of the restrictions of his magic.

"They tried," he smiles widely, but they call his bluff.

The first swing comes from a small, but wide man who puts his fist into Loki's side before he can react and then it's just like a dam breaking. They come at him all at once and though he is strong, he cannot fight so many at once.

He has no armour, no weapons and no magic, only the strength of his fists and while he breaks some bones, he gets many more broken in return. His only advantage, apart from the raw power of a god, is his speed, but the fight is so crowded that he hardly ever manages to really duck or jump out of the way. When he avoids one blow, he is thrust into the way of two more.

Wrecking his brain for loopholes while being pummelled with fists isn't easy, so he just tries to go with what's he already done before, but the nearest lantern is so far away that the fire flickers out before Loki can bring it close to his opponents and after that, he gets his legs swiped from underneath him and falls onto the cobblestones. Last thing he knows for certain is that there is a harsh kick to his head and then things become quite hazy.

But even as he slips into darkness, he can hear Thor's roar and then warm blood splatters his face.