Thor frowned at the area his brother had just vacated. What was the matter with Loki? He never seemed to make conversation anymore, unless it was a discussion of spells or knowledge that interested Thor little. Nor was Loki present at any social gathering; he always went out of his way to avoid company now. He was withdrawing more into himself more than ever, and Thor feared the metaphorical gap between them was widening into a chasm.

In a last attempt to get Loki to engage in activity of any sort, just so he could have a chance to actually talk to his younger brother without him shying away, Thor had persuaded him into sparring. He fondly recalled their countless spars over the centuries. Loki had the most endearingly devilish smirk whenever he bested Thor. Since these occasions were scarce, Thor had come to treasure that grin, and the way Loki's verdant eyes would dance with pride and amusement that he had won.

But since his younger brother's withdrawal from any sort of physical combat, claiming that he had 'no desire to soil my tunic with unnecessary scuffles in the dirt', chances of their sparring had dropped significantly. He had been positively ecstatic when Loki had agreed to a spar, hoping to get through to his mercurial sibling and bridge the chasm that had opened up between them.

There had been the briefest moment, in the midst of combat with both of them at each others' throats, neither backing down, when Thor had felt his connection to Loki resonate, deeper than any sentiment he had ever beheld. The sly smirk playing around the corners Loki's lips as the trickster had easily evaded his every attack, and the predatory gleam in his eyes as he struck with all the speed and accuracy of a snake, caused a wave of nostalgia to overcome the thunderer. It brought back memories of their childhood, of days young and carefree, when Loki would always be by his side… Loki, his comrade, his friend, but above all his brother…

Loki laughs helplessly as Thor attacks him with the mighty combating technique of Ruthlessly Tickling Your Combatant Until He is Reduced to Uncontrollable Giggling on the Floor.

Grinning, Thor pins Loki's wrists to the ground with ease. "Do you yield now, brother?" he asks, still plying the trickster's stomache with tickles.

"Ne – ver," Loki hisses, doubling over in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, endeavouring fruitlessly to push Thor away, though his emerald green eyes sparkling with amusement belies his actions.

Thor growls playfully and goes in for the kill – his hand goes to Loki's neck and batters the sensitive skin there mercilessly with tickles. His younger brother is gasping and incoherent in seconds, laughter forcing its way out of his throat with every mere brush of Thor's fingers.

"Ha – Thor – enough – I – ha – yield – I yield –" Loki gasps between laughs, and Thor ceases the torturous tickling at once. Once he has regained his composure somewhat, Loki pushes at Thor and sits up, pouting, "You do not fight fair, brother. I thought we agreed – no tickling."

Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, Thor says, "Brother, since when do we ever fight fair? You broke your word when you used magic as well."

"Fair enough," Loki smirks, running a careless hand through his mussed up hair so it falls back into immaculate perfection. "You always fall for that trick."

Smiling faintly at the remembrance of that particular spar, Thor strode to the bathing chambers to wash off the grime of a whole afternoon's training. He wished things were that simple now, except nothing ever was anymore – not the Allfather's words to him, not the easy comradeship he had come to associate with Sif and the Warriors Three, not his brother's mannerisms and closed-off demeanour.

Tipping his head back to rest against the edge of the tub, Thor closed his eyes and sighed as he let the heat of the water soothe his aching muscles, and decided that simplicity was something he needed more of in his life. He longed for the days long past, when he and Loki were both too young to be involved with Asgard's council and inter-realm relations, when their only worry was where their adventures would next take them.

A choked-off gasp interrupted Thor from his musings.

He opened his eyes and sat up straight, annoyance quickly morphing into surprise as he saw Loki standing at the far end of the bathing chamber, a towel wrapped loosely around his slim waist and another draped across his shoulders, his wet hair curling loosely and dripping a steady stream of water down his back, an unidentifiable mixture of emotions on his face as the trickster stumbled a few inelegant steps backward, hurriedly averting his gaze from Thor's to stare at the ground.

"Brother," Loki muttered, addressing the stretch of floor between himself and the edge of Thor's tub, "If I may ask – what exactly are you doing in my bathing chambers?"

Thor frowned, sensing, not for the first time that day, that Loki was not himself. "Your bathing chambers? Loki, these are the sparring grounds chambers, open to all who have concluded their combat training sessions."

Loki glanced up, surprised, and Thor watched as his brother let his gaze dart around the room, from its high-vaulted ceiling to the multiple bathing tubs available for Asgard's warriors to soak in after grueling sessions of training. The chambers were empty except for the two of them. "So they are," Loki acknowledged with a dip of his head, his eyes returning to their fixation on the stone floor, "Apologies, I must have confused them with my own."

With that he turned to leave, but not before Thor caught sight of a dull pink flush spreading from Loki's cheeks to the back of his neck, standing out in stark contrast against his pale skin. The notion of Loki – calm, cool, collected Loki, being embarrassed was almost unheard of, and had Thor not seen it with his own eyes he would have scoffed and said the flush colouring his brother's countenance was just as likely caused by the heat, or by anger.

Loki was almost to the adjoining chamber now, his embarrassment made all the more evident by the slight hunch of his shoulders, by the speed with which he was walking, heedless of the trail of water he was leaving behind, the sounds of his bare feet slapping against stone echoing off the cavernous room.

"Loki, wait!"

Before his mind had quite caught up with what he was doing, Thor had heaved himself out of the tub and was crossing the length of the room at a run, skidding slightly across the damp surface.

At the entryway, Loki turned around and, catching sight of Thor, his expression changed to one of incredulity and horror. Thor had only a moment to wonder what was causing his brother distress before he slipped on the wet stone, his arms windmilling out of control as he fell forward, crashing into his brother and bringing Loki down with him as they both went sprawling onto the cold stone floor.

The result was a confusing tangle of limbs and, as he made to get up, Thor realized with a start that they were in a position almost identical to when they had been sparring not an hour ago, with him inadvertently pinning Loki to the ground with his weight and Loki –

His brother's skin was still flushed, spreading from his cheeks, down his neck and to his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly with his every breath. This close, Thor could see that Loki's eyes had gone dark, the pupil eclipsing the iris, chasing away the green until only a thin band of it remained. Thor had thought at first the flush was no more than the product of embarrassment and the lingering heat of the baths, but he was getting less sure of that prognosis by the minute.

"Brother, are you feeling alright?" Thor asked, concern colouring his voice as he frowned down at Loki, "You look unwell."

"I feel fine," Loki snapped waspishly, voice high and strung-out, and he pushed ineffectually against Thor's shoulders, "Get off me, you oaf."

Thor refused to budge. "Do not take me for a fool, Loki," he replied, and lifted a hand to brush against Loki's forehead. "You are burning up – you need a healer."

'Oh, for the love of Yggdrasil, Thor!" Loki snarled, not ceasing in his attempts to push Thor off him, "I am not a child to be coddled! If I say I am well, then leave me be!"

Grasping Loki's wrists, Thor pinned them to the floor above the trickster's head. "I know you like I know no other," he said, leaning his weight down further as Loki continued struggling, "And I know that right now, if you are, as you say, in full health, that there is something else troubling you. Will you not tell me, so that I can help you? After all these millennia, after all that we have been through, do you still not trust me, brother? Does our comradeship mean nothing to you?"

Loki closed his eyes and ceased his struggling, breathing harshly through his nose instead, the flush never fading from his skin. He was silent for so long Thor feared no reply would be forthcoming. When he did speak, his voice was strained, pulled taut as a bowstring, and his body was one long line of tension, the restless energy palpitating off him in waves.

"Much as I would like to burden you with my troubles, Thor, this is a matter that concerns no one but myself, and to which I will find a solution for in due course," Loki paused, then, licked his lips as though they were dry, and continued, "Much as the thought is appreciated, your help would be, to say the least, unwelcome."

Thor's frown deepened. "I must be able to help in some way. A burden shared is, as they say, a burden halved, and if I am not the person you wish to confide in, perhaps you should seek the counsel of the Allfather or of Mother. I am certain they will be able to find some –"

"For the last time, Thor, no one can help me!" Loki shouted all of a sudden, surging up and redoubling his efforts at wresting himself free of Thor's hold, "Let go of me and go put some clothes on, you uncouth barbarian!"

"Why should it bother you that I –" Thor cut himself off as several things happened in conjunction with each other, so quickly he could almost convince himself they had simply been a trick of his mind, or a trick of Loki's.

Loki's struggling had until then been limited to his arms and torso, but an extremely strong tug had aligned their hips together in a manner Thor could only associate with that of the maidens he had taken to bed, and in that moment Thor felt an insistent hardness that was not his own, pressing against his thigh.

The moment was fleeting, for as soon as Loki realized his mistake his expression hardened and he teleported away, though not before Thor saw the glint of something that might have been tears in his brother's eyes, as he was left grasping at the lingering traces of Loki's sorcery, shimmering a vivid green in the air before fading away.

Thor remained on his hands and knees on the floor, too stunned to move, his head in turmoil, as realization dawned, as disbelief and confusion and sympathy and a dozen other unnamed emotions warred for dominance within his heart. Oh, brother. I am sorry. I truly am.

It was only much later, when he had dressed and was returning to his chambers for the night, that it hit Thor that Loki could have teleported himself away at any point during their encounter, but he had chosen not to.

Despite himself, Thor smiled.

Perhaps the situation was not such a lost cause after all.