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 17: Blood Brothers

A/N: I've been way too busy for my liking lately. Homework and the like. Even so, it's all been working out rather well. Now, there is a huge project that I'm heading up at the moment, and I'd like to ask those of you reading this to consider taking part.

If you follow Tom on twitter or other social networking sites, you will know that he is presently in Conakry, Guinea in West Africa with a UNICEF team. He has also been posting a field diary about the trip, which you can find via his twitter and facebook pages. Now, I read that first entry the other night after work, and it broke my heart. The conditions these children are living in are not the best by any means. So I've started a project to help them to learn, to see the world and show them that there are many people who care for them. More details can be found at adriftinasea . tumblr .com. If you are interested, please read all the posts on that blog and follow the instructions. Though the project is still young, I have high hopes for it, and want to contribute to the children of Conakry in support of Tom, UNICEF, and the well-being of the kids, most importantly. Even if you don't take part, if you could promote the project on twitter and tumblr, with the tag #TheGuineaProject2013, that would be wonderful. Just please be sure to take the tumblr URL and include it in your promotions so that others can see it. Thank you all very much in advance!

I also have an exam and homework due Monday, so there may or may not be an update to this or to "The Devil Of Asgard" (the next chapter of which is very nearly finished).

"Are you angry with me?"

Thor tangled his fingers behind his back, sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, and looked at his brother with a sheepish expression. Loki hadn't said anything to him following his getting the lot of them drunk, and had seemed to be intent on avoiding him. That rankled, and Thor, though he liked to imagine he was invincible, was always eaten slowly away by the feeling that someone was upset with him. That was why, even when he had never been the one at fault, he had always approached his father with sincerity, apologized for whatever foolishness might have come out of his mouth. It worked, usually. Would put things back to the way they were supposed to be. Except with his brother.

Loki liked to brood and make him uncomfortable.

Propped up against the side of the wide stable was a wooden target, having been easily been cut out of a felled tree by the lake. The rings that marked its years had been crudely painted over with red circles, the bullseye drawing his attention immediately. It looked as though it was bending in the middle, having been pegged and stabbed with far too many knives. The little tassels on the ends of the blades moved lightly in the wind as Loki glanced at him, turned away and made a face as he flung the knife. He groaned loudly, flopped down into the grass as the thing smacked one of the others with a metallic sound, bounced off the target and to the ground.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

Thor creased his brow, determined not to be pulled into this again. Loki had a bad habit of running him in circles with his words, and, every time, managed to change the subject. Quickly, he walked through the grass to where his brother sat, bent down and pulled a knife from the ground.

"Because I got you drunk," Thor replied, and drew his arm back to throw. He grimaced, stumbled as Loki kicked at his ankle, sent the thing flying quite a ways off. "On purpose."

Loki didn't glare at him or anything, just sat there in the grass and shrugged. "So what?" he replied, and started tugging up the greenery with his fists. "It's not as if I had anything better to do with my time."

Now that was strange.

Thor sat down beside him, pulled Loki's head into his arm and tousled his hair. That should have done well to bother his brother, get him to acting like himself again. Mischievous and laughing at his own stupid jokes and pranks or just plain telling Thor that he was butting in. Letting spiders run amok through the kitchen, freezing the bridges so that the horses couldn't walk across, bewitching the palace doors so that they would take a man to the point furthest from his destination. He'd been missing things like that for several days now, and almost wished that, while in the dining hall, Loki had played with their ale so that the bottles never emptied.

The thunderer winced suddenly, pulled his hand away from Loki and saw a thick red line appear in his palm.

"What was that for?!" he demanded, and Loki grabbed him again.

"Shut up."

His brother stared at the blood on his own hand, moved his eyes back and forth between them as if expecting something to change. Blood was blood, and theirs was the same. What could possibly be different about it?

"Loki–"

"I'm tired of being here," the trickster said, giving the knife a throw. It hit the bullseye head on. "And I've been thinking about what you said before... Maybe Muspelheim wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Thor didn't know quite what to say to that. Except for the jab about his brother's obvious disdain for high temperatures, he couldn't think of a reply. Funny as he thought it was, watching Loki's calm demeanor blur into madness as he shuffled about in delusional circles beneath the scorching sun, Thor didn't say anything.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he finally said, trying to be the big brother he always should have been. That was one thing Thor found himself rather ashamed of from time to time. Big brothers were protectors, saviors. Not tormentors.

"How would you know?"

"I'm your brother."

"And that means you know everything, does it?" Loki wiped his hand on the knee of his pants. "I suppose you could tell me the history of the Nine Realms, keep me satisfied with all the wisdom of the library that you've holed up in that head of yours."

Thor rubbed his chin. "I could certainly try. But I don't think you'd find my exaggerated stories nearly as interesting as those musty old books."

"That's because you're lousy at words." Loki smiled. "Like now."

"Muspelheim, then?" he said, not bothering to dispute the fact. Thor had never been particularly eloquent in expressing himself. Which was why, for the most part, he'd tell his stories with sound effects and his hands. Words just didn't seem to do it for him.

"When?"

"Whenever you want."

Loki stared at him, disbelieving the idea that the thunderer wouldn't take the helm of their adventure, then leaned to peer over Thor's shoulder with a serious look. The thunder god turned his head, expecting to see maybe a deer wandering through the grass. But there was nothing, and Thor immediately felt a hand shoving him back and into the dirt.

"It would seem you lack any real observation as well."

Thor smirked, rolled and lunged forward with a hand, slapping the ground as his brother jumped out of reach and started running.

If there was one thing Thor was excellent at, it was outrunning his brother.