Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 4: Child's Play

The leaves hid him, high up in the the tree and crouched on a branch, one hand steadying himself against the trunk while the other moved, send the plate in Volstagg's hand flying well out of reach. Loki snickered as the bearded man began to shout, running about to chase his meal as quickly as he could, swearing and making threats that he would carry out as soon as he got his hands about the prince's throat. But Loki didn't care. He knew better than to believe that the Valiant would have the energy to chase after him once his little game was through. When all was said and done, the warrior would sit himself down to eat, cram the meal down his gullet and sit back in the sun for a nap. Loki would not be harmed.

He climbed higher, still holding the plate out of the man's reach, sending him running down the garden steps and into the field, watched as Volstagg's hands appeared among the low-hanging branches of the apple trees as he jumped. The prince snickered as the warrior's breathing grew labored, the plate hovering back up and around to the pine tree in which he had perched, watching as Volstagg sighed, came to fall on the soft grass below. Satisfied with the chase, Loki lowered his hand, sending the plate to the ground beside the man who, having looked up, spotted him and continued breathing threats.

"No need to be nasty," he chided, dropping out of the tree. "It was only a bit of fun, you know."

Volstagg said nothing and kept eyeing him, managing to pull himself up to lean against the tree trunk, snatching the plate away as though Loki would take it again.

Anyone else would have been horribly offended, bothered by the fact that the others couldn't understand the joke. But Loki took pride in watching them seethe, knowing that he could do just as he liked to any of them without real consequence. They may have been stronger than the trickster physically, but so far as speed and magic went, none could match him. His father had told Loki himself. And Odin never lied.

"Don't be that way," Loki said, crouching beside the winded man. Volstagg glared, clapped a hand around the drumstick protectively. "If I really wanted to, I'd just take it." The prince gave him a playful slap across the face. "And you, old boy, would be unable to do a thing about it."

The warrior looked away, eyes locked upon the steps that lead up to the palace. Loki turned, somewhat surprised to see his father standing there with an amused smile on his face. He wondered how much the Allfather had seen, if he was truly entertained by Loki's antics, or if it was one of those knowing smirks, if he were waiting for something to happen. Volstagg grunted then, gave Loki a shove and laughed as he lay sprawled in the grass, taking to his feet and hurrying off as though he thought the prince would come after him again. Sitting up, Loki had mind to, but didn't bother knowing that Odin would easily intercept him as he walked down the stairs.

The old man looked at him with his good eye, looking rather brilliant against the backdrop of misty mountains and cloudy skies.

"It would seem that your tricks aren't well received."

Loki shrugged, knotting his hands in the grass and yanking up the green blades, letting them fall as though they were a rain of confetti. That wasn't exactly news to the trickster. His jokes had never gone over well with many, unless it were Thor, and he'd long since grown tired of struggling for acceptance even in this group shared with his brother; had determined that it consumed far less energy for him to not give a damn and to enjoy his own games. Better than trying to drag a bunch of fun-sucking fools into it with him.

"Is that meant to trouble me?" Loki replied, falling onto his back and staring up at the sky. It was better when it rained, he thought. Easier to spend time outdoors or lounge around in bed for a couple extra hours each morning rather than to wander about in the hot pockets of air that were the warm seasons of Asgard. If it were up to Loki, it would be Autumn and Winter all year long. "It's been some time since I cared for what they think of me."

The gray sky stared back through the tree branches and growled, as if threatening to drop a tub of chilled water on him at that very instant. Odin appeared above him, staring down as though he expected them to have a quality conversation. Loki made a face and rolled over.

His father was like to ask about their bet, to say something about the childishness of it all, that he and Thor ought to act their age, spend their time on better things like courting any one of the young women of quality in the kingdom the way their mother always insisted. And, to that, Loki would reply that of all the giggling girls, very few of them gave a damn about anything other than pretty little trinkets, gold fastenings and trim on their gowns, and being hailed as the next possible queen of Asgard. In other words, fame. As such, he'd decided, quite some time ago, that it was best to treat them as little more than objects of rather limited affection. He knew Odin wouldn't like that.

"You've plans to ride tomorrow," the Allfather said, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. "Have you an idea as to what you'll bring home?"

"Whatever we find, I suppose." Loki shrugged, trying to cut slits in the blades of grass with his nails and weave them together. How dull this all was. He did love his father, had always wanted to be close to him, but always found that, when conversation started, he would much rather find comfort with his mother. She had always seen the value of his fun, his words, in a way that Odin could not. Or would not. It didn't really matter. "I didn't have much say in the planning," he added. "Thor came up with it all. I merely persuaded him to postpone the trip until tomorrow morning."

The king seemed to beam at the mention of his elder son's name, and Loki openly rolled his eyes. Yes, yes, he knew that everyone was incredibly taken with Thor. Now, if only the people of Asgard could move on to a more current, and less tedious, matter. Why, Loki would settle for listening to them cheer because Hogun the Grim had, for once, attempted a smile. Anything that wasn't about Thor and all his glory would be perfectly fine by him.

"Did you hear me, son?"

Loki turned his head. "What?"

"I said, you had best not go after bilge snipe." Odin looked rather cross.

The prince snickered and made a face. "Why ever not? Yes, they're big and incredibly ugly, and they certainly smell rancid, but we're men, Father, not children." A laugh. "But a beast so vile as that is no match for the likes of the finest warrior's of the realm. Not to mention the Sons of Odin. Really, Father. It will all be as child's play."

The Allfather was obviously wary, but seemed a little more at ease with that part about he and Thor being the Sons of Odin. But the satisfaction and pride quickly died out, the spark in his eye quickly diminished with the cloud covering of a father's need to protect. Loki hated that look.

"Caution," was the reply, and the prince found a firm hand on his shoulder as he stood. "If it takes a bit of foolishness and a few bruises for the lot of you to grow, I accept. But I will not tolerate the outlandish recklessness that the two of you always take part in. Do not think yourselves immortal."

Loki nodded as Odin turned his back, moved back towards the steps and casting his gaze to the heavens. It would begin to pour again soon, as they both knew.

He spat at the ground, not at all attempting to hide the fact that he was insulted by those words. He was cautious by nature. Thor, on the other hand, was the epitome of the phrase "reckless fool."