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 13: The Damage Inflicted

Thor's jaw nearly tumbled off three days later when he found out what his brother had meant when he'd said that "everything will be taken care of." He sat at table, ale forgotten in the goblet and silverware clattering from his hands to the floor. Volstagg, who had likely run the whole way from Sif's abode, dripped with sweat, face rosy as he panted heavily. The words had tumbled from the bearded man's lips like a waterfall, spilling across the polished wood and sweeping the prince's plate briskly away.

Several times he blinked, shook his head in hopes that he still had water in his ears from when he'd gone swimming before. Thor couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. No, neither of those were right. He refused to believe the words spoken to him by one of his truest friends, those of the mischief his brother had only just engaged in, perhaps the night before.

He'd been foolish not to notice that the look on Loki's face, as he trekked back to the palace, had been one that did not belong in civilized conversation. Thor had not noticed that there had been a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, having dismissed it as little more than too much time in the lake following a meal. When, in fact, it had been his body's way of warning him that Loki was, once again, up to no good.

The chair scraped against the floor, tipping back and onto its side as Thor jumped to his feet, followed Volstagg through the halls with urgent eyes. Outside, their horses waited, and Thor charged onto his, but his friend took him by the arm.

"She will not see anyone," the warrior told him, looking grim. "We have tried since yesterday, but she's not yet come out. I have my doubts that she'll listen to you, either."

Thor ignored him, spurred it on and forced it to run until he finally came upon Sif's abode. The window to her room was shut tight, he noticed, and stood up on the saddle, lifted himself high and onto the railing of her balcony. He rapped on the glass, received a quiet but distinct "Go away!" before taking to prying the lock open with his hands. It rattled a bit, and footsteps came from inside, the window opening suddenly and knocking Thor off his feet. Sif glowered at him from beneath her hood, which she had pinched shut with one hand at the bottom. She looked as though she'd been crying.

On his knees, Thor grabbed her by the hand, shook her gently as he felt his eyes grow wide. What had happened to her, he thought? What had his brother done to cause her such distress? He silently asked for entry, and Sif turned away, causing Thor to follow, though he stayed perched on the windowsill.

"If you do not kill him, then I will!" she snapped, kicked a book across the room. Thor said nothing. "I swear it! I care not who or what he is! Prince of Asgard or even a snake!"

The thunderer bit his lip, decided that her words were that of hurt, that, were Sif in her right mind, she would not say those things about his brother. Her friend. Thor leaned forward, touched her shoulder, and turned the woman gently around. She still clung to the bottom of her hood.

"Show me," he said, pleading with his eyes, and Sif stiffened. "I cannot do a thing for you if I do not see for myself. Please."

She pushed him back, caused Thor to teeter on the windowsill, and turned, pursed her lips tightly and pulled away the hood. The prince said nothing, knowing just how ashamed she was of the whole ordeal. Sif's hair, once gold and beautiful like stalks of wheat in the sun, was now cut off, a dark color, almost black, like the barks of the pines in the middle of a storm. It all made him furious.

Thor scowled, climbed back out the window and jumped to the ground. He climbed up onto his horse, shouted at the beast to get on even as Sif stared after him.

He was going to get to the bottom of this.

# - # - # - #

Loki was satisfied, twirling the blade between his fingers, leering at the straw dummy with a smirk. Were it a man, he would be dead a hundred times over by now, clothing cut into so many strips that they hung off his body, blood seeping deep into the ground with each passing second. Of course, a still target was never a fun one, and the prince had quite happily bewitched the thing to move before he'd gone and incapacitated it. What with no legs below the knee, and a lack of a hand and several fingers, it couldn't very well run and try to fight back.

Though it had since healed, Loki hadn't chanced to throw a blade with his left in weeks. He drew back, scoffed as the thing twitched again, and let the knife fly, burying the point deep into the dummy's straw skull, forcing what magic he'd lent out to come zipping back into his fingertips.

Sadly, the glee was short-lived, as he could hear the sound of thundering hooves on the pavement behind. The smile disappeared, and Thor's voice chimed loud behind him.

"Why would you do such a thing?!" he howled, and hopped the low fence into the training ring.

Loki looked at him with a sideways glance, pulled the knives on the ground through the air so that they hung, and touched one as though it were little more than decoration. The prince smiled, ignored his brother's erratic pacing, at least until it began to kick up dirt, and flung another blade through the straw.

"What ever are you talking about?" he replied, and pointed at the dummy, forced the thing to piece itself together again, take up a stance and try to grab him.

The trickster stepped back, snickering as the figure slid across the ground, tried to take his feet out from beneath him. His boot came down, caught the knee of the dummy beneath the heel, and imagined that, were this a man, he wouldn't be getting up again anytime soon. That pleased Loki, and he raised an arm, eager to drive a knife into its head again, but flinched as Thor grabbed him from behind, causing the spell to unravel.

The God of Thunder promptly set to shaking Loki like a rag doll. "Do not play games with me, Brother! Why?! Why did you do it?!"

Loki scowled, stiffened and leaned forward, caused Thor to fly over his shoulders. His brother's back struck the ground hard, and Thor's grip loosened enough for him to pull free, hop back and onto the fence. It didn't matter if this kept Thor down for no more than a few seconds, for Loki was faster, smarter, could conjure a hundred ways to use this bit of terrain to his advantage in the time that his brother lay struggling for breath.

He blinked, breath caught in his throat as Thor's hand came and grabbed him by the hair, twisted until Loki's face touched the dirt. The trickster sputtered, spat as Thor's appeared beside his.

"Tell me!"

The prince of lies frowned, didn't bother to try and free himself from Thor's grasp this time. He wasn't interested in missing bits of his hair. Not even in small quantities. "I did it for you!" he huffed, blowing dirt into Thor's nose.

The God of Thunder lifted him up then, held him in the air a moment before letting go. Loki fell hard on his backside then, listening to his brother's heavy, frustrated breaths, and drew his knees to his chest. The thunderer hovered over him, waiting eagerly for further elaboration as he began pacing around Loki in a crazed circle.

"What do you mean?"

"You're foolish, Thor," he said, looking quietly at the studs that lined his sleeve. "Oblivious to half of what goes on around you, you wouldn't know a fly had gone up your nose until you sneezed." Loki chanced a glance upwards, saw Thor's eyes smoldering, and brought his own back down. "You don't see the way she looks at you, Brother... She loves you..."

That seemed to take his brother by surprise, as Thor took to fidgeting, eventually moving to drag the limp dummy from the ground and pull bits of straw from its arms. They didn't look at one another for several minutes, though Loki was sure that Thor's mouth opened more than just once.

It was all true, though most were certain to not believe it. Thor was utterly daft, had never seen the longing way women looked at him until they had come to voice their desires to him, had taken to gently touching his hand or offering up some other means of communicating with the fool. Only then would his eyes widen, light up like a child who had seen his first morning full of snow, turn to the others and inquire if the woman in question had just been openly flirting with him.

So, of course Thor hadn't known how the Lady Sif felt for him, hadn't seen it. But Loki wasn't known among their motley crew as a trickster, even a snake, for nothing. Every detail was important to him.

"Sif loves–?"

"You're not that stupid, Thor!" Loki shouted at him. "Do not make me regret telling people such!"

Thor frowned, ripped the arm off the dummy and shoved it at him. "I don't care! That is not how you do things, Brother! You do not harm the ones you love, the ones you call friends, just to prove a point! You ought know this by now! Or was your mind so badly rattled from that fight with the–"

"There is nothing wrong with my mind, you idiot!" Loki stood and kicked him, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"Then why would you–"

"I already told you! I did it for you, for her! So you'd stop looking at your feet and notice her! See that she trusts you, loves you more than any other! More than any of us!" His fingers curled around the knife before tossing it to the ground. He spun on his heel, hopped the fence and looked away. "I did for you, you damn idiot..."