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 6: A Brother's Pride

It had rained hard for hours now, having started from the instant that Thor had returned from disposing of the rabbit. The moisture had easily snuffed out their fire, leaving the warriors to return to their tents and sit in cold, wet misery. Loki thought that they should have hung their furs out by the fire to keep them warm, but they hadn't remembered his words from the last time a mistake like this had been made. Of course, it seemed that the only time the others paid any attention to his suggestions was when he actually acted upon them himself and forced everyone else to take part. And not a one of them liked that. Not even tolerant Thor. It didn't matter if he was right.

The brothers sat quietly side by side, the smell of old book pages filling the tent as Loki said nothing, let his eyes skim blankly across the page. Eventually, he snapped the thing shut and tossed it back into his pack. He wasn't getting anything out of it anyway. Best to try again when he actually gave a damn. Thor, on the other hand, had set about to polishing his blade, humming to himself as the smell on the rubbing cloth stung Loki's eyes and nose. There was a reason why one didn't just polish armor and metal in small spaces. The strength of the stuff was ghastly, certainly strong enough to knock out a small child after just a whiff or two.

Loki groaned, lay on his stomach and buried his face in the furs. Thor thumped him on the back with a hand.

He wanted to know why his brother was so down.

How strange it was that, in the midst of fine companions, Thor had no mind nor eye with which to see through him, determine exactly what irked Loki and what didn't. When they were alone, however, the thunder god saw everything, as though his brother's thoughts were written in upon his pale skin with the thick, black marks of charcoal. Loki flinched, feeling Thor lay on his back beside him, nudge him sharply with an elbow. He frowned, rolled onto his side with his back facing Thor, bit his lip and braced himself for the myriad of ignorant questions that were to come.

"Are you troubled, Brother?"

Thor's tone was quiet, smooth, so unlike the man he was around their friends, their parents. He was loud, their mother would say, a jolly soul who had no hope of ever being quieted. A man who brought life and laughter to all who met him, all he loved. Loki couldn't quite agree with that kind of behavior, though. Otherwise, he'd be just as foolish-looking as his brother, parading about the royal city with that skip in his step and beaming smile upon his face. The thought of his own features bearing such a thing at all hours of the day was foreign and bizarre. Loki didn't like it. He was perfectly content with his reserved ways, and wouldn't change them for anything.

The elbow prodded him again, this time in the spine, and Loki sat up, scooted to the opposite end of the tent and curled himself in the corner. Thor obviously wasn't very good at picking up on body language, as he followed quickly after, coming to sit by the trickster prince and drape an arm about his shoulders.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said, nudging Loki's cheek with his knuckles. "Come on. What's wrong?"

To be honest, there wasn't anything particularly wrong with the situation. Though, now that Thor had gone and popped that lovely little question, Loki found himself spinning about within his skull, thinking on everything and anything that had ever caused him even the slightest bit of grief or trouble. That which came first to mind was the warning his father had given him the day before.

It was evident, by the way the Allfather looked at him, that Odin didn't think his younger son a man. That, no matter what he did to earn his father's acceptance, it just wasn't right or good enough. There was that gleam in the man's one eye that Loki had always wanted to see with his name upon it, the one that only ever seemed to come about with the mention of Thor's name, or with his brother's great exploits, for Thor could never do any wrong. There were a scant few years between them, but it seemed that they were great enough in the eye of the king to separate them into completely different classes.

Loki leaned forward, crosses his arms and rested them upon his drawn up knees. "Father likes you best, you know."

Thor's sky blue eyes widened, golden brows arched in surprise. "What?"

The elder couldn't have been expected to notice such a thing, oblivious as he was to all the important little hints in life. And that bugged Loki even more, that Thor, as ignorant as he was and as much as Loki loved him, was still the favored son.

"Why would you say that?" Thor knelt in front of him, shook him as though he did not believe those words. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't. "Why would you lie?!"

Loki scowled, lifted a foot and booted his brother in the chest before tearing out of the tent, running through the rain towards the edge of the treeline. He stood there, stared out across the wide landscape, eyes narrowed and fixated on the royal city, which, from so far away, still seemed to shine. He was soon soaked through, hair sticking to the sides of his face and hanging in his smoldering eyes. Loki shook his head, pushed it back with a hand and sat down in the mud.

"That's so like you," he snapped, hearing Thor come to stand behind him. "Like him, too. You think I'm incapable of sincerity, don't you?!" His voice was rising, cracking with the sharp, cold breaths that were sucked into his lungs. "You think that I have no talent other than to lie and scheme! You think–"

He fell forward as his brother shoved him, wet dirt smeared across his face and in his mouth as Thor grabbed him by the ankle, dragged him through the grime as Loki thrashed, demanding that he be let go this instant. The thunderer ignored him as the sky growled, likely brought about by Thor's freshly fouled temper. Loki's heart sank as Thor lifted him above his head, let him fly until the water of the shallow stream crashed around him, came to sit on him, hold him down as the muck was washed away.

"Do you really believe that dribble?!" Thor bellowed, shoving him against the bank and giving Loki a sharp slap. "That you have no skill save your tricks?! That you are empty?!"

That struck him harder than Thor's fists ever could.

"You are my brother!" the prince shouted above the rain. "Don't you ever think yourself less than me; than anyone!" Thor sighed, sat upright on the bank and pulled Loki from the water. "I won't have it..."

The trickster hunched over, spat water from his mouth and said nothing.

Thor was the only person he knew who could deliver a sound beating, a lecture, and have it serve some good to the one on the receiving end. It had happened often in the past. They would fight, usually about stupid things, and end up rolling around in the grass, the dirt, on the palace floors with Loki stuck on the bottom. Thor would hit him, scream at him, and end up crying himself by the time the deed was done, pulling Loki into his arms and saying that none of it mattered anymore. Not because the trickster had so easily lost, but because they were brothers. Because they loved each other.

Loki shifted, gave Thor a hard smack. "You're the only one who can get away with that," he said, and his brother gave a soft smile. "Were it anyone else, I'd play myself a game of hide-and-seek with their head."

"Just so long as it didn't end up in Mother's armoire."

Now that was funny. Imagining gentle Frigga sweeping through the palace on air, tugging open the wardrobe doors and finding a severed head. It would be a horrible prank to play on her, forget everyone else, but it was laughable.

"What makes you think Father dislikes you so?"

"I never said that he dislikes me," Loki corrected him. "But he likes you more. He's always proud of you."

Pale eyes shifted to the side, caught sight of Thor's as they grew sad. "If it's any consolation... I–I'm proud of you."

What was there to say to that? Would he tell Thor the truth, allow him to know his darkest of secrets? Tell his brother that, for so long as he could remember, he had always wanted to match his strides, stand as tall as Thor did? That he was always jealous? It was a stupid thing to be upset about, and Loki would not pull his brother into that same misery. He would not make Thor feel ashamed to be the hero that all of Asgard knew him to be.

"Well, if Father can't be proud of you as well, then... then... we'll run away! Together."

"Where?"

"Muspelheim."

Loki scoffed. "No. Not Muspelheim. It's too damn hot." Thor laughed. "Do you want me to die of heat exhaustion, Brother? You know I don't like the heat."

Thor rolled his tongue about the inside of his mouth and cocked his head. "Funny you should say that," he mused aloud. "Because, the way I heard it, you had a very heated visit with the beautiful Sigyn when last you met."

The trickster's eyes shot open to the size of saucers. "Who told you that?!"

A shrug. "No one." And a wink. "You just did."

Loki crossed his arms and turned away, as though he were just a child again, skipping lessons and pouting when his mother had found him hiding behind the curtains. But he couldn't help smiling, knowing that, maybe, Thor was beginning to pick up things from him instead of the other way around. It was an interesting feeling. Pride, but not.

"Where would you like to go, then? If we never went home? Midgard?"

The prince shook his head, wrinkled his nose. "With the mortals? Please. You only like them because they worship you."

"And you like them because they fear you and your devilish tricks."

Above, the sky still poured her heart out, kept on soaking them right through the skin and bone until they sat close together, huddled into themselves and gently shuddering. Loki forced himself to look up, wished that the clouds were gone and the moon shone through the darkness, that the stars would blink into existence as they sat in the dense branches of the trees. He's always loved them, thought that, of all the things that lived and breathed in the universe, the stars were the most stunning.

He smiled.

"Out there," he said, pointing to the heavens. "Beyond the Nine Realms, to any and every world that we have never seen."

Thor could have dashed that dream, told him that there was nothing beyond the branches of Yggdrasil, that he was foolish and a child. But his hand touched Loki's shoulder and tugged him close.

"All right, then. One of these days, we'll run away and never come back. And we'll explore the cosmos. Find every world, every star, and make them our own."

Getting to his feet, Loki offered Thor a hand, pulled him up and grinned. "I'd like that. Very much."