A/N: Yes, it has taken me too long to get this done. I've been thinking about different scenarios, so I've actually worked on this. I just hadn't written anything. ;)

For the sake of this story, we're going to say that Baldr didn't exist. If you don't know who Baldr is, don't worry about it, 'cause he's not in here.

Warnings: Mentions Loki's 'punishments' and delves into Thor's feelings about them. There is a section on Loki while he is pregnant with Sleipnir. If this makes you uncomfortable, you can skip the sixth paragraph to avoid it.

For Destiel101, since they wanted to see Thor's. I hope it lives up to your expectations! :D

My Name is Thor Odinson

My name is Thor Odinson. I am the eldest son of the king of Asgard. My parents love me. I grew up in a wonderful home with my mother, father, and younger brother. I always had all the attention that I wanted. I did not realize how broken that left my brother. I loved him, and I thought I showed it, but apparently I didn't. Because of me, he grew up feeling left out and hurt. If I had just shown him more attention, maybe he would not have gone to the extremities that he did to gain it.

I was never harmed. No one would dare hurt the crown prince of Asgard. No one lifted a finger to harm me in any way. If they had, then they would have been punished severely. Maybe even killed. No one dared to do it. Everyone was too frightened to hurt either prince. So we were safe. We never got hurt. At least, I didn't. I learned not long ago that my brother, Loki, was often bullied. He was never hurt enough to leave scars, or even bruises most of the time. But people still hurt my brother. If I had known, they would never have touched him again.

I spent a lot of time in the sparring fields when I got older. I excelled in hand to hand combat, and I wasn't too bad with swords, either. But my favorite weapon was given to me after years of hard practice. My father gave it to me. It was a hammer, called Mjolnir. It was far more powerful than any other weapon. And I was very skilled at using it. After a time, I did notice that Loki often watched enviously as he slung his daggers and fought with magic. He was not trusted with power like it.

After years of training with Mjolnir, I was trusted to go on a trip to another realm of my choice. Not only could I pick where I went, but I could pick who I could go with. I chose my closest friends, as one normally would. These friends were Sif, Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg. Loki walked with us to Heimdall. If I had looked, I would have seen the longing in his emerald eyes. But I was only concerned with myself, so I did not. As we were whisked away on the Bifrost, I caught sight of a single tear rolling down my brother's face.

When we came back from that trip, Loki wasn't waiting for us as I was sure that he would be. I thought that he would be right there, his mischievous grin on his face, but he was not. He was nowhere in the crowd of people who stood by, waiting for the eldest prince to return with his friends from Alfheim. As I pushed through those gathered, I heard whispers. They were only whispers, but I caught them easily. I knew where to find Loki after I heard those whispers.

The knock wasn't answered. Loki didn't come to his door. That assured me that something was terribly wrong. I still didn't expect to see him lying on his bed, a blanket pulled up around him and a book resting on his rounded stomach. He turned his eyes up to me, but I hadn't said anything. I just stared. He pulled the blanket around him. He was trying to hide it. Trying to hide how much his stomach had extended. But I had seen it. My brother was carrying a child. When the look of disgust crossed my face, he lowered his eyes back to his book. Before I closed the door, I saw his shoulders shaking and the tears pouring down his face.

A month later, Sleipnir was born. He was a fine horse, but he had too many legs. It took him quite a while to learn to walk, but once that was out of the way, we couldn't keep him still. He always wanted to run. Once he was old enough to be by himself, Father decided that it was time Loki was punished for his actions. No one listened to his side of the story. I have to admit that even I didn't. I wanted him to be punished. I wanted that so badly that I held him down while they stitched up his lips. He stared up at me as his tears mixed with his blood. I only tightened my grip and shoved him further into the ground.

When he divorced his first wife, I let him stay in his room. I offered no comfort to him. They had split up after an argument. No one knew what the argument was about, but it had Angrboda storming out of their house, shouting that she would not come back. I had been on the way to congratulate Loki on the children that his wife was carrying. When they were born, they were sent to Loki. A wolf, a serpent and a half-rotted little girl. He named them Fenrir, Jormungand, and Hela.

His children were thrown into different worlds. They were not trusted. Jormungand was sent to Midgard, where he encircled the realm. Hela was sent to rule her own realm, where the spirits of the dead who were not honorable would be sent. Fenrir was kept for a while. He grew too quickly, though, and we chained him up to keep him under control.

I did not attend his second wedding. I was not happy for him. I did not care. I kept on thinking that if he deserved a wife, then he would have kept his first. I never thought that maybe it was her fault that they were separated. I eventually grew to like Sigyn, his second wife. She was kind and beautiful. When I found out that she was with child, carrying twins, I congratulated them. Loki was suspicion. I cannot blame him.

As I sit here, looking down at Loki, my heart aches. Maybe, if I had been kinder, he would not have tried to take over Midgard. If I had treated him fairly, maybe he would have stayed the trickster I knew when we were young. He would have been content to be my friend. But I did not do that. I did not show him the love that he craved so dearly.

Now he is here, rotting away in an Asgardian cell. Here he is, his hair unkempt, his nails jagged and broken, deep gauges left in his cheeks from where he was trying to pull of that muzzle. The muzzle that I am holding. The one that he keeps staring at. He is like a cornered animal, afraid that I will lash out and strike him. This makes me think of all the awful things that his guards must do to him every day. What horrors does he witness when I am not here?

I toss aside the muzzle and take a step toward Loki. He cowers down in the corner. He is truly terrified of me. Judging by the way his eyes keep flicking to the door, he thinks that someone else is going to come in, too. But I have not invited anyone to join us. It will be just me and my brother.

My brother. That is who this is. This man who is filthy and dressed in rags. This man is my brother, and he needs my help. He has needed my help for a while now. But it has taken me this long to realize that. To realize just how much I haven't been a brother. I have left him in the hands of these men who do not treat him like a prince, but like a common criminal.

I can see in his eyes the confusion as I kneel down in front of him and gently push back some hair that has fallen forward. When my hand brushes his chin, he pulls back sharply and I hear the sickening thunk of his head on the stone wall. I put my hand between the wall and his head, offering him a little bit of softness. It is evident that there is nothing else in the room to offer him comfort. No blanket, I think as I feel the cold bite of the dark, damp room. No bed. Even the lowest of criminals are given something to sleep on.

I look into my brother's eyes and I can feel the hurt and the need there. He has needed someone to show him even the slightest bit of kindness. It shames me to think that it took me this long to show him this kindness.

I pull Loki up against me. He tenses at first, but relaxes quickly. Good. He knows that I will not hurt him. I hold him as close as I can, and after a moment, I feel his emaciated arms go around my torso. He is returning the embrace. My heart leaps with joy before I realize that this is the only hug that he has given me since... since when? I do not even remember.

I open my mouth to say something, but Loki shakes his head. He does not want me to speak. He is probably afraid that I will tell him about some punishment that he will receive. He does not know that I only wish to apologize. That all I want to do is say that I'm sorry for staying away so long. That I am sorry that I did nothing to stop the torture that he has undergone these past few months.

When I try again, Loki shakes his head again, this time more forcefully. I am starting to get frustrated now. He won't let me speak! How am I supposed to apologize if I cannot speak? I am about to just blurt it out when I hear him say something softly. I hold him tighter as he repeats the words. Again and again the three words pour from his battered mouth. I can feel my shirt getting wet from what must be tears. The last time he says it is very strong, as if he wants everyone to know what he is saying.

"I love you."

My name is Thor Odinson, and after all the things that I have let happen, I am loved.

A/N: So here's Thor's chapter. I liked writing it. :)

Who would you like to see done next?