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 28: Winter Has Come

"There you are."

Thor sucked in a breath, swiped at his eyes and buried his face in his hands yet again. Things were already ruined for the night. Not for himself, for he hadn't particularly cared for socializing with people he didn't know, but for his mother, for his father. It shamed him that things had gotten so out of hand, though it wasn't at all his fault.

He sighed as Frigga came to sit beside him, dusted the snow from the shoulders of his cape and leaned on his arm, her eyes kind and quiet. It was almost certain that the Allfather was outraged by his brother's display, the blatant disrespect for the king, for standard procedure, that Loki had now made public. The thunderer feared his father's temper, and, though he was bitter, angry with his brother, he couldn't help but to worry for him, his head spinning with all manner of punishments that might befall him. This time, Thor knew, he had no hope of quelling Odin's rage, of sparing Loki that which he had coming.

"What has happened?" he said, leaning forward upon his elbows. Frigga's hand moved across the expanse of his wide shoulders, pulled until Thor came and rested upon hers. She was so small, he thought. So much smaller than he had ever known. His blue eyes opened, his face hot and colored from his pacing, his tears. "What is happening to my brother?"

In the recent months, he had seen Loki change, go from being simply mischievous to being angry, just as hot-tempered as Odin himself, stubborn and, at times, completely unbearable. He didn't smile anymore. Not genuinely, at least. Not unless he was pleased with himself or his tricks. Thor was starting to think now that even the smiles he offered to their mother were forced, empty, devoid of any meaning at all. The idea made him feel sick.

The queen remained silent, and it frightened Thor that his mother had no gentle words of wisdom, no answers for the questions that plagued him. Was his brother trying to separate from their group? Had he ever really been one of them? What of their friends? Why did they not say anything, try as Thor did to bring him back? Had they ever wanted Loki to be a part of their unspoken brotherhood?

He thought not, thought himself foolish for not having seen it sooner. They had never been quite so accepting as Thor, so willing to drag his sniveling baby brother into the game with them. Thor had often played at ditching Loki as a boy, but had only meant it as a bit of a joke between brothers. But the others, he feared, had read into his game incorrectly, had thought that by leaving him behind, that was how things were meant to be.

What hope was there to repair this damage? Loki was entirely his own person now, clever, self-sustaining, a genius in subjects that Thor and the others could not hope to master. And he was damn proud of it. Perhaps he had taken on that pride as a way to shield himself, satisfy the need for recognition that he had failed to obtain from his peers as a boy.

Thor wanted to vomit.

"The two of you are grown," his mother finally said, her voice soothing as a hand stroked his hair. "You have both become your own person. Really, Thor, did you think that the two of you would always roam together? That you would never become separate?"

That had never occurred to him, not truly. Thor had always imagined a life with Loki in it, even when their parents were long gone and they were all that was left of the House of Odin. He had always believed that they would stand with one another, do everything together just the way they always had. He had thought that, even when the sound of tiny feet could be heard through the palace halls, the two of them would sit in the great hall and reminisce, laugh at just how innocent and naive they had been at that age.

Now, that fantasy was dashed.

Were he to become king, then what? What would become of his brother, of the friendship that they had nurtured all these years? Would he leave, set off to further fill that brilliant head of his with the vast and infinite amounts of knowledge that lay outside Asgard, across the Nine Realms? And were it the other way around, what would Thor do? Cling to his brother's sleeve, follow at his heels and play protector for the rest of their days?

He groaned loudly. He had not thought any of this through to the end.

It was as their mother had always said. That they were close as brothers could be, but opposites. Thor with the intensity of the sun, and Loki possessing the mysterious allure of the moon. One like the warm seasons, bright and brilliant and happy, and the other with the not-so-subtle bite of winter, practiced and even reserved. They were separate, together, each circling the other from the moment Yggdrasil had written out the stories of their lives.

Thor sighed. He didn't know what to do.