Don't Leave Me the Way I Am
Chapter Three
"Remember the time he let a horde of spiders into the banquet hall?"
Volstagg shudders violently at Fandral's fiendish question and the boat rocks precariously, fishing lines twitching in the water. Thor shifts to rebalance so that they do not capsize. Fandral and Hogun sit in another boat, just a few strokes away with their own lines cast out in the opposite direction.
"All of that precious food. Covered in spider blood after the Allfather had to blow them up! It was a detestable act!"
Fandral grins across the divide, "Though getting to see Gungnir in action—"
"Aye, that was brilliant."
"And the time he magicked all your mirrors to only reflect a Frost Giant." Hogun puts in, elbowing Fandral in the side.
The blond man shudders just as Volstagg did, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the memory. "I looked monstrous!"
Thor ignores the conversation of his friends to cast another line. The hook goes sailing out into the far side of the lake and gets tangled in the long grass. Thor grunts and wiggles the line, tugging on it in hopes of dislodging it.
It has put a sour taste in his mouth, his friends' words, as they banter back and forth. He'd much rather focus on the potential victory in fishing. Hogun had spent all morning teaching them and it seemed like such a waste to worry about petty squabbles when there's still dinner to be had.
Still, there is a rift.
The bond between Loki and the Warriors Three has always been weak. Now with the latest trick against Sif, it seems like the circle of friends may even be destined to crumble, and take down with it a whole bridge. Thor finds himself stranded on the last threads that tie together either side, at a loss on how to mend the gap.
Thor would not speak so plainly with the Warriors Three about his feelings on the matter. Sentiment such as that is something only family can endure. And Thor is Odinson. He knows better now, on what he must and must not do. But he doesn't have the skills to talk them around like Loki could, if Loki would, that is. Thor doesn't completely understand it, why Loki won't bother, but envies Loki's ability all the more.
Somewhere along the line, his brother had managed to make a talent and power out of charming others, leaving Thor to keep his tongue stuffed thickly inside his mouth. He's angry at Loki, actually. Truly incensed. Because Loki doesn't seem to mind this rift, this tear that separates him from the others, and has taken to ignoring Thor just the same.
So it's no wonder that even if Thor has a different opinion, he won't admit it. Especially in the face of such a unanimous front. Thor smiles the mockery of his peers away, laughing in remembrance of Loki's more infamous tricks. It's easier this way. It's all he can really do, knows how to, right now.
Volstagg pulls his line from the lake and is rewarded with a clump of mud and grass. He sighs, "Thor, sometimes I don't know how you can stand him!"
"He is my brother. And some of his jokes are actually funny." Thor says simply, waggling the long reed of the fishing pole into the shallow waters and closing his eyes to the pleasant sun. "Remember when he entered Hogun in that competition of dance?"
"This time he has gone too far," Hogun comments gravely, choosing to ignore that faithful day.
"Oh my, but you did win first prize!" Volstagg crows with laughter and the dance champion bristles at this jibe.
"Why don't we ever try to get back at him?" Fandral brightens, "We can trick the trickster!"
"There's the little problem of outsmarting him." Hogun says as he reels in his line to put more bait on the hook.
"Honestly," Fandral sighs, exasperated. "Doesn't he deserve to be taught a lesson now and then too?"
"His little tricks usually get him reprimanded by the Allfather, in the end."
But this is not something that Odin can fix. Sif is stricken about her hair and refuses to return to sparring with Thor and the Warriors Three. Thor had even visited her home multiple times, standing outside her window, trying to apologize on Loki's behalf. But Sif would not reveal herself, rebuffed him every time. Thor began to despair and belatedly he realized that he must be beyond vain, to not notice that despite Sif's rough exterior she took pride and joy in her femininity.
Ask him his reason! Sif had shouted from the safety of her room. I wouldn't mind terribly understanding his twisted mind!
Thor feels vaguely uneasy about it though. He's not sure he wants to know.
"Take care how you speak of a future King of Asgard," Is all Thor adds to the conversation. He clamps his rod tightly between his knees and leans back against the side of the boat. The insides of his eyelids are a bright red against the sun and idly he begins twisting the frayed end of a braid in his hair between two fingers.
Volstagg tilts his head in obvious confusion. Thor can tell this is so because of the large shadow the redhead casts on him as he moves in front of the light.
"But you are the next in line, Thor. No need to defend him."
"Yes," Hogun mutters with that stony voice that Thor knows all too well. "One of these days he's going to do something, something bad, to you."
Thor opens his eyes to see his three friends, staring at him as if they want to make him see the error of his ways. As if they expect him to hate Loki the most, for messing with Sif.
But they don't know. Don't know how wrong Thor already is. That he has already done the worst thing to himself by just being himself and now there's nothing he can do to fix it. All he can do is stay silent.
"Get an apology from him at least," Fandral reminds him. "For Sif's sake."
"Why did you do it?"
Thor hops over the low gates to the practice arena, boots kicking up clouds of the red dusty soil. Loki pays him no mind as he stalks closer and it is this indifference which sends a deep wave of annoyance through Thor.
He hates being ignored. It's a more effective method to incense him than the generous lathering of righteousness on Sif's behalf the Warriors Three had worked into him beforehand. This only serves his purpose, and Thor is across the grounds in a heartbeat, fists clenched at his sides.
"Do what?" Loki asks carelessly. He picks up another throwing dagger, twirling it idly in hand.
Thor grimaces, scowls at the target set up down the lane. There are several daggers of various sizes lodged in and around the packed dummy. A tiny trail of sand flows from its lumpy leg like an hourglass spilling down the grains of life.
"Don't bother lying," Thor mutters, taking up a dagger from the neatly arranged pile. He stares at the shiny blade. "I know it was you who did that to Sif."
"I think it's an improvement," Loki says, and it's as good as a confession but not one, not really, when Loki looks up with balefully lidded eyes before throwing a dagger at the target. The blade imbeds itself in the wooden plank the dummy hangs from and Loki makes an annoyed sound under his breath.
"The Warriors Three have taken to speaking ill of you, because of this."
"Because of this," Loki echoes, throwing another dagger which lands just wide of the dummy's head. "You're not very observant, are you Thor?"
Thor bristles at this and tosses his own dagger. It goes speeding through the air and slices through the glass button sewn on to simulate a foe's eye. Loki shoots him a glare and Thor feels better for it.
"Here, your wrist." Thor takes Loki by the hand, twisting it into a better grip. "Like cracking a whip, okay?"
Loki allows this, mouth quirked just a bit in something that looks a lot like amusement. Thor staunchly ignores that, scowling at the evidence that even when he's angry with Loki he can't help but be a big brother. Seems like Loki knows this too, all the same.
Loki throws. The shining dagger goes straight through the second eye. Thor feels pride overtake his bad mood.
"I didn't see you use this technique. You just employed brute strength!" Loki complains to cover up his grin of triumph.
"Which I have in spades," Thor replies smugly but Loki pokes his arm.
"Doesn't look like it."
"I'm still growing," Thor protests. Gives Loki a little shove. He's not as thin as he used to be. He's filled out a lot, but not yet enough.
They end up using all of the daggers to try and spell out their names in the weapon shed's wooden walls. It's a silly thing to do, but when he's with his brother it's just too easy to revert into this kind of game. They're children still, when they're together. He's happy to let all the sand run out.
Thor knows he should be waiting for an explanation, an apology, or words of regret. Anything, to take back to Sif as a peace offering so that they can all be friends again. But Thor's not the patient sort, and he forgets about these types of things in the face of simple pleasures. By the time they are finished, THOR and LOKI is etched into the shed by puncture holes.
It's times like these Thor feels the most at home, free.
"You've grown to like that girl more than me." Loki rolls his eyes, panting for breath as they stare up into the sky. "If you like her so much, I suppose I can help her grow it back."
Thor uses the last of the gathered daggers to tap the dirt off the soles of his boots before tossing it back into the pile. He slumps down next to Loki, upsetting dust into the air. It floats up in soft plumes, decorating the golden sky with red glitter that quickly falls away.
"That is what Sif would prefer, I think. But Loki, I don't like anyone more than you. You are my Brother!"
Loki doesn't reply for a long moment and it's just the sear of the setting sun against their skin that fills his ears.
"Swear it," Loki mutters finally, and then sits up, looking Thor in the eyes. "Swear to me."
"I do swear it," Thor frowns.
"No, words can change." Loki bites his lip then looks around before reaching for one of the daggers. He quickly drags it over his palm, cutting the flesh.
"Loki," Thor admonishes, but takes the dagger determinedly thrust at him and mirrors the action without hesitation. The fresh cut burns, as if a sliver of the coldest ice has pried apart his skin. Loki grips Thor's hand tightly and he feels the strong pulse of his brother's beating heart in the palm of his hand.
"I swear, Loki. I will never love another as I do you."
"And I you." Loki looks down and then when their eyes meet once more, there is a fierce shine in his green gaze that makes everything else dull.
"I did it for you, Thor."
Thor's mouth falls open with a slight gasp. This is the only time Loki has ever said word on what their father scorns him for and the sudden mention is like another slice to Thor's skin.
"You didn't have to," Thor whispers, angry and ashamed and filled with love all at once.
Thor feels the burn of tears in his eyes, the hard ground under his knees, their hands knotted in tight grips. They are both blank-faced, staring at the other. The slices on their palms are wide enough to be smiles, coated with the promise that drips with the blood of brothers.
It is for this reason that Thor forgives Loki. With all his heart. Forgives Loki anything he does or may do. Because Loki has committed an act of defiance against Odin's words, in the name of Thor.
Just this one sentiment, to spur a thousand more.
Sometimes someone can say something so very small and it will fill every empty space of your heart.
Following this, Odin tells Thor that he will be presented with Mjölnir.
So he throws himself into training in preparation to accept. He goes on journeys by himself, despite his mother's dismay, venturing into the more treacherous terrains of Asgard. Odin almost seems proud at his will to run away.
Thor doesn't worry of injury or scars, using on himself healing stones whenever there's too much blood, too much hurt. He relishes in it, the action. It's so much easier to fall into an endless fight than wait, and wait, and wait. There is still the small scar on his palm to smooth a thumb across, when things get too rough.
He battles the various predators that crawl the land, becomes a predator himself, stripped down from royal armor. Just a young man, trying so very hard to mould himself into a King. He'd never been happier when the first hairs began to grow on his chin.
Thor builds himself up so that he can push whatever Odin sees down, far away within. And then he has a whole face-full of hair that he shaves away in the blue reflection of a calm stream. He looks upon himself, only seeing a strange thing, a confused boy, pushed down deep where he cannot be seen. Thor's arms are thrice the size, his thighs too, standing taller than he has ever stood before.
He may be alone out here, but Thor does not miss the silent condescension, the strained conversations. The rift. In fact, it is this that causes him to train harder, farther from home, until perhaps, Odin no longer believes he's just squandering his life away. Until perhaps, Thor becomes worthy.
He wished he could use Mjölnir as a blacksmith would, hammer himself out until he was shining and straight. His hand aches for the weapon, the treasure and the trust. To hold such a gift from the Allfather would mean so much. But he is just a twisted thing, twisted up inside. A knot. He's afraid he could never stamp it out, no matter how large he got.
Thor flings himself into peril, to test himself, push himself, and make sure he can come back from anything alive.
He comes back strong, but never comes back different.
"Ugh, sometimes I dread attending these sorts of events."
"Come now Sif, that's not very nice. This was a celebration worthgetting dressed up over."
"Aye, but you don't have to wear heels—"
"—Ah, there he is!" Volstagg turns from Sif to greet Thor with a hearty slap to the shoulder.
Thor grins in return, brushing back a thick drape of his flowing red cape. "Did you have a good vantage point?"
He hefts Mjölnir so that they may see.
The hall is gleaming with light. Surrounding Thor are the familiar pleasant clanks and clunks of armor, the swishes of fine robes and fabrics. Crowd chatter washes across the sprawling archways of gold like an ever climbing tide against a sandy bank, filling up the atmosphere with its own unique noise and scent. This is Asgard at its finest. Everyone polished and shined up new.
"Why, it's very ordinary up close, isn't it?" Fandral twirls his finger into the short blond mustache that sweeps from under his nose.
"Aesthetics, though pleasing, are hardly what make a weapon," Sif crosses her arms. She is dressed very unlike herself for this event, with long voluminous black hair pulled back, flowing down from an intricate knot at the crown of her head. "Though perhaps you are the exception, good Fandral."
"You look lovely, Sif," Hogun diffuses with a rare close-lipped smile. She arches an eyebrow then curtsies. Fandral gives a dramatic wave of his hand and they snicker at one another.
"Thank you for coming, my friends." Thor says, beaming.
Oh, but Thor is so excited he can scarcely do more than grin, watching the streams of cheerful people flow around him. Odin sits on his throne, looking regally upon the court and subjects with his one wise eye.
Thor sees his mother entertaining a group of female guests, the sparkling facets of her gown so bright she is as a star is to the ever stretching black of space. Thor spots his brother, dressed in noble drapes of green and tight fitted gold armor. He steals their mother's cheek for a kiss and the surrounding women titter at Frigga's flush. The smiles on both their faces are so charming. Beautiful.
Thor cannot help but mirror this smile.
"And, Thor, you looked to be the finest warrior in all of Asgard," Hogun compliments. "Now with Mjölnir, I expect you are."
This sets Thor's cheeks into a pleasant burn with the wide stretch of his grin, the rush of blood. He is so proud, so very, very proud that he can lift the weight of the brilliant burden of the hammer in his hand.
"Thank you," He pats a hand over top Hogun's, doesn't even feel slighted when the man slips it away. "I am so glad to have you all by my side at this time. I hope we can fight many battles together, in many different worlds."
"You have worked hard for this," Volstagg smiles behind his long curly beard. "Ever am I envious!"
"Of what?" Thor laughs.
"Well, you can fly now, can't you? Such a skill!"
"I doubt very much even the great Mjölnir could lift your girth," Comes the wit from a familiar silver tongue.
Thor chuckles deeply at his friends' affronted looks as Loki takes his elbow. They huff and pretend like they weren't about to make the same joke at Volstagg's expense before trailing off towards the long refreshment tables.
"Well, I'm not wrong," Loki mutters slyly into Thor's ear and he pulls Thor a bit away from the crowd towards his favourite corridor adjacent to the hall. The impressive passage that leads towards the throne room is lined with pillars carved with murals depicting Odin's reign. It is a place where history holds up the palace.
"You look radiant today," Thor replies, holding Loki by the opposite elbow so that whosoever may pass by knows they are ensconced in meaningful conversation. His brother pauses, tilts his head and the side of his mouth hooks up.
"Not nearly as much as you. Congratulations, Thor." Loki's grin is full of teeth. "I know how long you've waited for your new toy."
Thor snorts and his hand leaves Loki's elbow only to cup Loki behind the ear, patting his face. "Thank you."
They look at each other for a moment and Thor wonders if Loki can feel his palm's scar against his cheek. Loki has changed too, over time. His nose is longer, his chin a bit pointier. His hair is a little longer, though it merely creeps over his high collar whereas Thor's sweeps in curtains. They are of a height now too, almost the same.
Loki smirks, his chin bowing down along with his eyes, as though he's thought of something embarrassing. Thor strokes Loki's cheek with his thumb, the skin of his jaw is still smooth, and when his brother next looks up it is with an amused smirk.
"Mother requests your presence. It's why I pulled you away, actually. She gave me the most wonderful spiel and hopes to do the same for you."
Thor blinks in surprise, "About what?"
"Oh," Loki presses his lips together as if to hold in mirth but leans in anyway, to speak into his ear. The ominous tone makes Thor's heart thud fast. "I would hide myself if I were you, Thor."
He must have a gormless look upon his face for Loki twists from his grasp and starts snickering in that specific way he has, the way he laughs when he knows the punch line to a joke no one else can hear. The sound goes bouncing back and forth off the pillars and Thor tilts his head, watching Loki leave.
Laughter always takes the chance to dance away and find mischief somewhere else. When Thor returns to the hall he sees Frigga whispering into Lady Sif's ear.
"Thor!" Frigga waves happily, an almost childish look lighting her features. Beside his mother, Sif smiles nervously, wiggling a few fingers in a half-hearted wave.
"Oh, come here, Thor." Frigga hugs him and Thor presses close, tightly banding one arm around her middle. She laughs and playfully thumps his shoulder. "Mind your strength."
"Yes," Thor agrees, uncomfortably exchanging a glance with Sif.
"I was just telling Sif how beautiful she looks in her gown," Frigga tells him, leading him closer, and Thor knows why his friend has not managed to escape his mother yet. The woman has a powerful grip.
"And that it's high time you put some of your old dance lessons to good use."
"Mother," Thor complains, rubbing at his neck, "Nooo."
Sif covers her snort with a dainty crooked hand over her mouth. Thor glares over his mother's fair head.
"Nonsense, Thor," Frigga continues and sweeps a glittering arm to gesture towards the front of the hall. "Look, even young Hogun is dancing."
Across the way, Hogun is doing a short spin with his partner, flat stare still in place.
"Yes, but he has the credentials..."
And that is when Thor sees his brother, dancing candidly with some woman a head shorter than he, graceful and in step. Some kind of awful feeling slams into Thor, as if Mjölnir itself has been sent straight into his gut. As it is, Thor looks down blankly, realizing the hammer sits numb in his palm.
"Make sure to give her a kiss at the end," Frigga whispers in his ear, so much like his brother.
He doesn't really register it, as Frigga pushes him towards the dancers with Sif in tow. Thor feels fuzzy, a buzzing sort of indignant emotion that he does not truly understand. A sharp glint of gold catches Thor's eye and he realizes Odin is watching. He swallows and carries on, taking Sif by the elbow in a distant sort of way. It's not fair, watching Loki smile and laugh at his dance partner. Something twists deep in Thor's stomach when another woman cuts in, taking up hands with Loki, who looks flattered and smug.
He says something to the girl, and she giggles. Thor frowns, wondering what he could be saying. What does Loki say to anyone, to get his way?
Thor shuts himself off as Sif begrudgingly dances with him. He can see it on her face that she's not so pleased to be asked to move in her uncomfortable shoes, but Thor is vain in this. Doesn't really have much sympathy. It's not his fault that they keep getting pushed together. He doesn't want to reject anyone, especially for being too close.
The dance ends and Thor's shuffling feet plant themselves against the floor as Loki gives his dancer a kiss. Thor sees red. He can't get over the gnawing inside, the tangling up of that small knot, tying together nerves. It's with a start that Thor realizes what this feeling is.
He's jealous.
Why could Loki do this so easily? It's not fair, really, that it has been Thor who always had to work so much harder. The first son, trying to shine himself up into something good, to only hope that he could reflect Odin's greatness.
And here is Loki, not even having to try.
A spiky heel crushes into Thor's foot and he lets out a yelp to look down at Sif's annoyed face.
"At least make an effort," She mumbles, cocking her head just barely to where Frigga surely watches. Guilt floods him at once, drowning out the feral animal that gnashes its teeth in his gut.
He stares at her, stares at Sif's long, long hair, her lips, and kisses her hand instead.
"Well, if you were going to be so hesitant about that," She smirks and pokes him in the nose when he's done.
"You are my friend, Sif." He explains, feeling awfully sheepish, ashamed even.
"As you are mine." She shakes her head, "I told your mother it was not to be. I just wish that the Allfather finally accept it..."
"Accept what?" Thor asks.
"Oh, it is tiresome sometimes." And Sif stares at him. Stares at him as if he should know what she sees, know that he is something different that needs to be figured out. Something unravels in him, just a little, when she pats his large arm, looking a bit sad.
"To see you lonely."
Thor avoids his brother without explanation after that. And Loki, being Loki, sets the bar even. He snubs Thor in turn, makes sure they don't talk for a long time.
Except everyone should know a 'long time' between brothers is not very long at all.