"Wake up!"
Thor grunted in his sleep and moved to turn away, but a cool hand on his shoulder kept him still.
"I made you breakfast. Wake up!"
Thor grunted again. He blinked the sleep from his eyes before spying Loki's curly tangle of dark hair and a steaming mug atop his chest.
"You are remarkably well stocked," Loki said with a slight rasp in his voice. The mattress dipped as he slipped from the bed and the sound of pots and jars clattered on the workbench. "What you don't have, you can find quickly around here too," he added, holding up a dirty jar dripping with an unfriendly looking yellow liquid.
Thor's eyes dropped to the mug as worries of a similarly concerning liquid flew through his mind.
"It's only tea," Loki said as he scooped a dollop of butter into an overflowing bowl.
"Thank you?" Thor said quietly.
Loki nodded as he began stirring in the butter. "Don't you normally have tea in the morning?"
"I usually have porridge," Thor said, cautiously sipping from his mug. He nearly spat it back out as immensely strong rosemary stung his tongue. "How long did you steep this for?" He coughed. 'Why did you steep this?' went unsaid, hidden in his undertone. He couldn't help but imagine Loki stoking the fire and tossing in every dried sprig of rosemary Thor owned.
"A good long while," Loki said with a small smile. "Why?"
Thor shook his head. "It's just strong." His eyes watered as he bravely took another sip. "Very strong."
"It should be, it's meant to help."
"Help?"
"Help, yes," Loki hummed. "It'll help you wake and warm up."
"I feel fine," Thor said as he wrinkled his nose.
"Perhaps your brain is lying to you," Loki said, "and you haven't realized it."
Irritation prickled in his belly.
Maybe he'd lived alone for too long, or maybe his friends were less invasive, but Thor couldn't help feeling as if Loki thought of him as stupid. He knew he didn't match up to his namesake, but he also thought Loki would understand how that felt.
He set down his tea with every intent to argue, but stopped short as Loki tugged his borrowed tunic upwards and revealed the canvas of bruising. More marks had shown up overnight, with several transitioning toward a greener hue while others darkened, and grew larger.
Thor jumped to his feet and hurried closer as Loki scooped out a large helping and slathered it over chest.
His pale fingers, now far cleaner than they'd been last night, worked quickly. Thor dipped his own fingers in the bowl and grimaced as a smooth, cool cream with a grossly unappealing mixture of scents sat on his skin.
"What is this?"
"A painkiller," Loki said with a wince. "Like I said, I found most of the ingredients here, they looked old—"
"They are," Thor said.
The sharp odor of animal fat wafted around the two of them as Thor helped Loki spread more of the cream over his belly.
"My mother used to dry plants and study them, but it's not something I'm particularly skilled at." He gestured for Loki to turn around. "I know the names of some, like lilies, and can recognize other important ones, spotted yellow flowers with a black center if I can't sleep, and tiny purple ones for stomach pain," he idly patted his belly with his clean hand, "but she had a wider understanding than most I think."
Loki seemed to have a wider understanding as well, a thought which left something painfully desolate, yet strangely joyful in Thor's heart.
"You said she was a witch," Loki said quietly. "Her collection speaks highly of her."
"It should."
Thor swept the cream gently over an impressive purple splotch below Loki's right shoulder blade. He tried to ignore the faint twitches Loki made as he worked and silently berated himself for not realizing the amount of pain Loki had likely been in all last night.
He looked like he'd someone's personal training dummy.
"Loki—"
"Perhaps you'd prefer I asked before rifling through your things?"
Thor swallowed thickly. "If you're in pain, I can't fault you for wanting to ease it. My mother would've preferred her collection go toward a good cause too. I doubt she'd have been happy if I'd let it go to waste because I couldn't let someone more skilled than myself use it."
Loki nodded and offered him another small smile before taking a quick sniff of the dirty jar with the unfriendly, yellow liquid. He seemed to find it safe, and took a long swallow.
"Is that vinegar?" Thor asked as a fermented, pungent smell nearly overtook the stench of animal fat. "How does vinegar help?"
A shudder ran through Loki as he swallowed again and set the jar down. "Helps fight infection," he said before snatching a jagged strip of birch bark and stuffing it in his mouth.
Thor blinked as he watched Loki chew.
He opened his mouth to try asking once more about what led to Loki floating beside Thor's boat, but Loki beat him to it.
"How many stories do you remember about Thor?" Loki asked around a full mouth.
"Quite a few," Thor said as he glanced over the workbench.
He hadn't had birch bark in his house and felt he would've remembered chopping any down. It burned well, but too quickly for Thor to use it for much more than kindling, especially in winter when he needed his fire to stay lit for long, cold nights. His eyes dropped to Loki's feet and the subsequent wet socks and footprints trailing out the doorway.
"Did you go outside?"
Loki nodded. "I needed the birch tree we passed on the way here."
"But you didn't wear shoes?!"
He spun on his heel and snatched a few extra logs before tossing them into the fire pit. He could understand if hypothermia had led to Loki's confusion and distress, and in that frame of mind, led to him wandering without proper clothing, but Loki appeared to be capable enough to have known he needed shoes!
Hadn't he been wearing shoes when Thor found him?! He searched over the room for Loki's clothes and spied them folded into a tidy pile—or as tidy as scraps of fabric could be—beneath his spear near the workbench. The boots were tatty, but serviceable!
Thor stepped back to Loki and barely refrained from dragging him bodily toward the fire. A quiet voice in the back of Thor's mind argued over whether or not Loki needed Thor's care if he treated his body so poorly, but a louder voice argued that he clearly did need Thor's care because he treated his body so poorly.
He didn't know why it bothered him so much.
Maybe it annoyed him to have spent so much time and effort to save Loki from the sea, only for Loki to turn around and undo all of his hard work? Maybe he just disliked Loki putting himself in dangerous situations when safer options clearly existed?
Loki seemed like someone who wouldn't take stupid risks, but Thor had no actual proof of that.
In fact, Thor had proof of the opposite.
"Which is your favorite story?" Loki asked in an awkward voice as spat the chewed bark into his hand and tossed it into the fire.
Thor stared at Loki. He didn't mind sharing his thoughts about Thor—the actual Thor—but he couldn't help feeling as if their time could be spent in a better way. He wanted answers. He wanted to know about Loki's sudden and endangered appearance in the sea, if he knew anything about the visitor's odd arrival, where his bruises came from, and about the fear he'd shown when the visitor tried to enter Thor's house.
"Loki," Thor started slowly.
Loki shivered as his eyes flickered almost nervously towards Thor's before dropping to a small dollop of leftover cream on his hip. He flinched as he massaged it in.
A painful need to tuck Loki somewhere warm and safe burst in Thor's chest, though he tried to smother it beneath harsh realities.
They'd only met yesterday and Loki had hardly been able to consciously speak for himself. He'd clearly fled from a bad situation, or been forcibly removed from his home, or some horrid combination of the two.
Loki didn't know Thor and Thor didn't know Loki.
Why then, did Thor feel he needed to coax Loki into talking about who'd hurt him? Why wouldn't Loki tell him outright?
Maybe he felt Thor would laugh at him because some warriors certainly would.
Again though, a painful need to find those who would laugh and crush them into the ground rushed through Thor.
"Maybe, ehm, the one where he loses Mjölnir," Thor answered quietly, "and has to earn it back." He spun on his heel and quickly grabbed the soft red tunic he'd leant Loki last night. "I like how he doesn't give up, even though there are some versions of the story where he considers it." He mimed for Loki to raise his arms before helping him into the tunic once more. "I may not be Thor Odinson, but I don't like giving up either, and I don't need to be a god to help others."
Loki's mouth dropped open as if to argue, but Thor beat him to it.
"And I know speaking about painful topics is…" Thor wished he'd thought more about how to go about coaxing Loki than whether or not he should. "Painful," he said stupidly, "but there must be a jarl we can speak with so you won't be in danger. You would have justice—"
"No," Loki said firmly.
"Loki."
"I'm not in danger here, am I?" Loki asked. His eyes brightened, setting off Thor's worries about fever and hypothermia once more.
"Loki—"
"Am I?" Loki asked again.
"You're not in any danger from me," Thor argued, "but what about our visitor?" he asked as he pushed closer to Loki. "The one who you hid from, who you were frightened of—"
"They're gone!"
"What if they're not?! What if they're still out there?"
"Of course they're still out there!" Loki tried to scream before his voice popped and he was forced to whisper, "but do you really think they're any more dangerous than anyone else?!"
Thor inhaled slowly. At some point his hands had balled and tightened into fists, urging him to turn away and break something.
The fire popped, sending a thick plume of smoke out around Loki as Thor twisted around and grabbed the axe from the wall.
He shoved his cloak and boots on and stormed from the small house, leaving Loki to stew in his own anger. He didn't know what would convince Loki that allowing his attacker to go free might be worse than handling it through a jarl. Whoever attacked him might attack again if Loki didn't say something. They might attack others.
Thor did think of their visitor as more dangerous than others too, because if he hadn't been present to keep them out of his house, they would've stormed in and raided the place for anything of value, without fear of repercussion. They'd made it clear how little they cared for Thor's gods and customs.
If they acted without care, without order or reason, who knew what terror they could cause.
Wind whipped through his hair as he swept down a shoddily trod path. Fresh snow covered the old track he'd created, and now the bare imprint of Loki's socks stuck out, plain as day.
He didn't know how Loki tolerated wandering without shoes.
Maybe he'd lost all the feeling in his feet after his time in the sea? Thor ought to find help—
Loki didn't want his help.
He wanted to stay exactly where he felt safe, and right now, 'safe' happened to be Thor's house. How would he react if Thor actually pushed him to speak about who attacked him? He'd snapped after Thor barely broached the question.
How could Thor encourage someone who'd been beaten that speaking with a jarl would help?
Sweat dotted along his forehead, and his breath puffed around him in a cloud of steam as he stopped short before the bent birch tree.
If Thor hadn't known Loki had already been and gone, he doubted he'd have noticed the difference in the tree. Strips of the trunk had been ripped free, but the bark's texture leant itself to easy harvesting. He idly considered taking a few larger branches for the house, but again, it wouldn't burn long enough to keep the two of them warm.
Did Loki want to keep warm? Would he think of Thor's worries as smothering, or laughable?
His concern being the butt of a joke burnt something miserable within Thor's soul, and had him gritting his teeth together.
Thor didn't know him.
He didn't know Loki well enough to feel this angry with him, and he certainly didn't know him well enough to worry so much about him!
He only knew what Loki chose to tell him, which amounted to his name—Loki—and his trade, witchcraft.
What Thor knew and how he felt didn't add up! He was out of his depth, and couldn't fathom how to go about solving this mystery with constant and distracting protective urges! If his mother still lived, and listened to his troubles, she likely would've argued about how his feelings held insight into his difficulties, but she had passed away and Thor lacked the wisdom to unravel them himself.
If she hadn't passed though, maybe she'd ask him what caused these feelings, to which Thor would have to answer, quite unhelpfully, that nothing caused them.
They'd appeared out of nowhere.
He could argue that he'd always tried to be kind, but it often came out as a helpless kindness, where he would help if others seemed receptive and stop if they didn't.
Loki needed help, but why did it bother Thor that he didn't accept it? He didn't know Loki!
Thor had no siblings, nor any family to take care of anymore, and caring for other people had rarely been a task he'd been able to seek out and he didn't want to think on why.
He liked to care for Loki though. He liked it when he helped Loki feel comforted and safe in his house. It soothed something in him to see a rosy glow on Loki's face, and in turn burned when he endangered himself, but Thor didn't know him well enough to earn those feelings!
A snarling growl rippled from his throat as he spun and launched his axe at a monstrous, old oak tree. A loud crack echoed through the woods as the hatchet buried itself deep within the bark and shook the branches awake, dropping heaps of snow onto the frozen ground.
Where did his incessant concern come from? Tenderness for strangers had never been Thor's way. Tenderness had been a treat, one rarely shared with him.
He had, in the distant past, given in to tender urges in the quiet moments when a friend would cuddle him close, or allow him to care for them. He'd adored being a source of comfort then, and he adored it now with Loki.
Affection had never sprung upon Thor so quickly though.
He let out a few frustrated breaths and made his way toward the hatchet.
Whether or not his feelings made sense, he had to admit to their existence. At least they didn't overwhelm him and make him paralyzed at Loki's potential hypothermia, or bitter over his battered state at the hand of his attackers, or stupid with affection for the small smiles he'd shown Thor, on the off-chance Loki found Thor worthy of smiling about.
Perhaps his feelings caused all three though, as a grin began to curl over the edges of his lips at the thought of Loki finding Thor worthy of a smile.
He tried to remember what he'd said to encourage Loki's delight as the thick snow cracked and crunched beneath his feet and he closed in around the old oak. His fingers slid around the soft handle before a worrying sound met his ears.
Footsteps.
Twin footsteps, very nearly camouflaged by Thor's own trampling, lingered in the silence.
His first thought went to Loki, and if he'd left Thor's house without boots or a cloak to come talk, but Thor somehow doubted that happened. Loki didn't seem the type to apologize first.
He tightened his grip on the hatchet before wrenching it free from the oak and whirling around.
Sharp iron bit into Thor's neck as his hatchet caught on a scarred polearm and kept it from cutting any deeper.
"My friend," came a dreadfully familiar raspy voice.
Thor inhaled slowly, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on the blade at his throat. "Is this how you greet all of your friends?" he asked.
Perhaps he had few true friends if so.
In the bleak, gray daylight, he finally had a chance to take a long look at the person Loki felt so frightened of. Their visitor hadn't been built for warring, nor did he seem to have enjoyed many peaceful harvests, as skeletal limbs struck out from his thick fur overcoat. A fresh wound marred his cheek, while faded scars criss crossed his wrists before traveling up his knuckles and fingertips, where they hid beneath black ink stains.
"It's how I greet some of them. If you fail to understand my meaning, perhaps your people lack nuance in the definition of 'friend'," the visitor said as his lips split into a strained, but mocking grin.
Thor idly thought back to his confusion over the visitor's opinion of a 'stray', and how the meaning of the word had been twisted around, leaving Thor still struggling to understand what he'd meant.
"Maybe you're using the wrong word?" Thor grunted.
In spite of his viciousness, Thor couldn't help noticing how the visitor held himself against the wind. He treated it as the tide, as he tilted forward, forcing the fierce wind to roll over his head with swallowed, tense shivers. Clumps of snow clung to his thick fur overcoat, leading Thor wondering if he'd slept in it, but he somehow doubted it would preserve enough heat for anyone to survive a night in winter.
"It looks as though you kept warm," Thor said slowly. "I hope my gift kept you fed."
"It served a purpose."
"And does this?" Thor asked as his eyes darted pointedly between the polearm and his own axe.
"It has a role to play, as do we, though we may only realize that after the fact," the visitor said as his smile faded and a flatter, less joyful expression replaced it.
Thor tightened his grip on his hatchet as he focused on the near silence blanketing the woods.
He couldn't hear any surrounding fighting, nor any arguing aside from the muffled echo of their conversation. Despite his confusion about the origin of his emotions, he didn't deny the way they burned at the thought of Loki being attacked because Thor had been waylaid.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Thor asked as anger roused in his chest and a faint buzzing began humming in his ears.
The visitor's eyes narrowed on Thor's seconds before Thor lurched backwards and hooked the hatchet over the polearm, wrenching it down and away from his neck.
Angling himself to the side, the visitor deftly tore a gash in Thor's thigh before swinging his polearm high, once more aiming for Thor's throat.
"Last night, you called your friend a 'stray'," Thor said, jerking backwards and diving beneath the blade to snatch the polearm. He gripped it tight as he thrust it up over his head. "A stray is someone who turns away safety, hospitality, and care without logic, but look at yourself! No food, no warmth, no friends to aid you—"
"I am no common beggar," the visitor snarled as Thor swung his axe through the narrow opening in his defense and left a deep, bloody split in his neck.
"Who said you were?!" Thor shouted. "Who called you a beggar?!"
The visitor gurgled and let out a string of complicated sounds before throwing his weight backwards to wrench the polearms free from Thor's grip. He spun around, kicking slush as he bolted into the woods, his snowy overcoat nearly blending in amidst the trees.
Steam billowed around Thor as he let out a long shaky exhale.
He wanted their name.
His knuckles popped as his fingers tightened around the hatchet once more, aching to throw the axe and bury it in their skull once and for all.
He wanted a reason for his madness. He tried to comfort himself with the realization that he didn't need to push Loki to bring his own story before a jarl anymore, not when Thor had been similarly attacked.
What good could a jarl do though, when the person being tried didn't care about their crimes? They may declare the visitor an outlaw, but the visitor already behaved as one.
The visitor openly attacked, without cause or justification, and what had Thor done to provoke that behavior?
Perhaps the attack truly had been meant to hold Thor off while someone else attacked Loki, again?
Sweat cooled along the inside of his tunic, leaving a sticky, unpleasant sensation as Thor ran back up the path. It hadn't been long since he'd stormed off. Loki knew Thor had a hunting knife, didn't he? He'd been more awake when Thor found him than he realized, he might've remembered having seen it.
He didn't know if Loki knew how to fight though. Most people had some experience defending themselves if they truly had to, but could Loki hold off someone trained in fighting?
A crash echoed from up the path.
Thor cleared the garden and burst through the doorway, only to stop short as horror flooded him.
His home had been broken apart in a mad scramble. He couldn't see Loki anywhere, nor could he see any blood splattered on the walls though he felt less than relieved by either realization. A muddy, bandaged woman was shoving a large chest onto its side, spilling old clothing and his mother's blankets onto the rug.
Well-loved blankets, stitched together with gold and red thread split in two as her stained knife tore through them. The rug dampened the sound of their fall, but did little to dampen the fury erupting in Thor's chest.
He lunged, his ears ringing as he watched the raider's eyes shrink into pools of white.
—
A frigid chill crept up his wrists and numbed the pounding ache in his head. He could feel his chest rising and falling as humid steam clouded around his head. He didn't like the sound accompanying it at all, as it reminded him of overworked horses, though he didn't know where to look to make it stop.
He felt as if he didn't know much of anything at the moment.
He wanted his mother's things in his hands, he knew that much, but he couldn't seem to find his hands, which would make it quite difficult to hold anything.
Shadows spilled over the snow too quickly for Thor to make sense of, and if someone had come, he couldn't tell if they came as a friend or foe. He knew the shapes of words but struggled to grasp their meaning. The distinction between friend and foe began to feel as if it didn't matter anymore though, and for all Thor knew, the shadows were both and neither.
He didn't feel up for much right now anyway.
The chill on his skin felt like his only true connection, until Loki's eyes broke through his haze.
Loki's calm breathing and the whisper of cold wind began filtering in around the thick, cloudy feeling in his ears.
"Can you hear me?"
Delight bloomed in Thor's chest at having understood what Loki said and he smiled. His cheeks ached, though whether that came from the cold or Thor's lack of movement for an indeterminate amount of time, he didn't know. He felt too relieved to stop.
"She's gone," Loki nodded.
Thor couldn't remember who 'she' was, but he didn't care enough to find out.
Loki looked healthy.
Loki looked calm.
Loki looked safe, and for that, Thor couldn't help but feel pleased. He couldn't remember why Loki's safety had been at risk though, nor did he feel clever enough to hunt through his memories at the moment.
"You were impressive," Loki said as the cold feeling came along Thor's forearms.
Thor grunted and sluggishly blinked down at himself. Loki's quick fingers dabbed ice over his wrists as shiny pools of blood streamed from Thor's tunic, darkening the snow. Did that belong to him? Should he feel worried?
"Can you feel pain yet?" Loki asked. The icy sensation dimmed as thin hands trailed upwards over Thor's shoulder.
Thor made a questioning sound and wished his mouth would catch up to his brain.
"I suppose we'll find out," Loki said before sitting back and gathering a small pile of worn linen alongside the dirty jar he'd been drinking from earlier. "Your head is bleeding quite a lot, but from what I can see you aren't in immediate danger," a burning sensation flared to life as what smelled like vinegar rained over Thor's right ear. "She tried to hack it off, but you disagreed with that plan and instead used her as a battering ram."
Thor nodded and regretted it immediately as a woozy, blinding ache washed over his head.
"Your house survived," Loki added as his fingers gently slipped upwards to work at the tense pressure pulsating from Thor's forehead, "but you knocked a few beams loose and took the door off by plowing through it."
The snowy garden melted into a nauseating white blur as Thor turned toward it.
Loki hadn't been kidding.
The door had been wrenched from its hinges. A mad scramble must've happened in the garden, as the thin path Loki traipsed through this morning now twisted into a maze, alongside a violent explosion of snow.
Vivid blood splattered over the hill that led toward the sea.
Thor carefully turned back around to look over Loki.
Snow soaked into the knees of his tunic, and left damp spots near everywhere else. His fingers and toes had gone red with the cold, and the urge to pull him close rose up in Thor's chest, but he stamped it down. Loki likely wouldn't appreciate Thor getting in the way of his work, and Thor didn't want to encourage his tendency to dress inappropriately for the cold.
Why could he never dress properly?
"I can probably put the door back on," Loki said as he wound linen around Thor's head. "I don't think she'll be back anytime soon."
The raider!
Loki mentioned her having fled, but Thor's brain hadn't quite caught up.
Thor groaned as he began moving himself from a stiff slouch. "We—I'm not sure," he grunted as more aches made themselves known. His ability to speak again cheered him, but didn't dampen the pain he felt at seeing his home so damaged. "We were attacked."
Loki sat back and grabbed the bowl of unpleasantly pungent cream he'd slathered over himself earlier before scooping a dollop out and smoothing it over the wound at Thor's head.
"My house has no door," Thor croaked with a sore throat. He slowly reached forward and cupped one of Loki's hands between his own, attempting to rub some warmth into his icy skin despite his earlier decision to let Loki work. "I believe you're—you're," his tongue struggled to form sounds, making speaking a slow process. "You're right in thinking I scared her off for now, but I worry I haven't scared her off permanently." Memories of the visitor flooded his thoughts as the throb in Thor's thigh ebbed. "I think she's working with that man, the one I spoke with last night. I saw him again—"
Loki stood and held up a hand, silently asking for Thor to be quiet for a moment. "I'm going to get more bandages."
Thor turned to disagree and ask for help into the house instead, but Loki had already disappeared through the gaping hole where the door had been.
His absence created a gaping hole of an altogether different sort in Thor's heart.
Had that space been there yesterday? He felt sure he would've noticed an emptiness as uncomfortable as this one before. Perhaps he had though, as memories of his mother's funeral flickered in the back of his mind.
The wind seemed to snicker at him as it stole through his tattered and split clothing.
Yesterday he had a warm home and no reason to fear an attack. Now, he had what remained of his mother's keepsakes, blankets, and charms, if the raider left any intact. If he left any intact during his fight. What would they do? His friends had always ensured Thor knew he would be welcome to stay with them if he ever grew too lonely so far up north, or if he ever needed them, as he clearly did now.
He didn't want to leave though.
He'd only moved away to care for his mother, and she'd passed just under half a year ago now. What would she say about everything that happened? Would she think Thor had lost his mind when it came to Loki? Would she truly think Thor's heart held insightful answers, or that he had misled himself?
"She wasn't very discriminatory about what she chose to destroy, but these look alright." A thick bundle of linen landed in Thor's lap.
Thor nodded as his thumb swept over the fabric. "I think I would feel safer indoors."
Loki blinked confusedly for a moment before flushing. "Just one moment," he said as he grabbed the bandages and medicines and spun in his heel, rushing back through the doorway.
Thor couldn't tell if he found Loki's confusion just plain odd, or concerning. Had he forgotten the house hadn't caved in? Or had he thought Thor would feel too upset to see its wreckage?
He wondered if he could hear Loki tidying up.
Maybe he felt Thor would panic at the sight of his home destroyed? Thor had given him a long tour of the carvings hewn into the beams, alongside his mother's charms. He hoped again that none of them broke in the attack. The raider had destroyed one of his mother's blankets already, he couldn't bear the thought of losing her charms as well.
Loki reappeared and helped Thor climb to his feet, though he didn't feel as if he needed the help. He didn't feel shaken, odd as that seemed. That could be from shock, but Thor fought in a number of battles in his youth and knew what shock felt like.
"I think we should gather anything necessary and leave," Thor said as Loki led him toward the doorway. "We can go south."
"South?" Loki asked as the two stepped around a mess of shattered pottery, splintered wood, and torn clothing. "We should go north. If those raiders are this far north, then the south is crawling with them. North is better, anyone looking to attack will be less likely to hike deep into the mountains in cold weather."
Thor hadn't thought of that. He had to hope his friends would be armed enough to defend themselves against a raid, though privately, his worries began to stir.
What if they needed him?
What if they'd attacked Thor first, and intended to move southward, raiding as they liked? They needed to warn others, if so.
No, the visitor had been from a village far south of here—
It would make sense to pillage far from home. They would always have somewhere safe, and far from danger to return to, if they kept their attacks distant.
Thor made a slow trod toward the bed before sitting heavily in it.
If his friends needed him, surely they'd have sailed north.
Perhaps they'd had a skirmish and came out the victor? They wouldn't need to sail north if they'd won. Besides, raiders favored thievery, rather than outright war, something Thor now felt deeply in his heart as he glanced over his home.
The charms over the fire pit rattled in the wind. Thor's rough treatment of the beams forced them to crowd together and hang lower on the right, alongside the newly slanted roof. Thankfully though, they looked relatively unharmed. The blankets had been stripped, and most chests turned out. Thor supposed he had something bittersweet to laugh about, as the raider had clearly been searching for valuables and Thor only kept items with sentimental value.
The more destruction he saw though, the more he knew they truly needed to leave. He didn't truly know if the two strangers worked together though he felt sure they did. He didn't know if the two hunted Loki together, or why they would for that matter, but regardless, Loki needed help.
The visitor had certainly been searching for someone named Loki.
He blinked upwards in time to watch Loki shivering as he stood, surrounded by the mess. His eyes danced over the wreckage, sweeping up towards the charms and down the carvings as something Thor couldn't name flashed across his face.
"She didn't hurt you," Thor asked quietly, "did she?"
Loki turned to look at Thor and shook his head.
Thor swallowed heavily as Loki turned again and his dark tangle of curls tilted left and right as he surveyed the house. Thor wondered if he felt uncomfortable, as he seemed determined to avoid Thor's gaze. He couldn't think of a reason for Loki to feel that way. It might've been the first time he'd even seen Loki so visibly affected as well. He'd had more reason to feel uncomfortable last night and hadn't, even though Thor would've easily understood if he had.
Had the fight frightened him?
"Did I hurt you?!" Thor asked with a sudden jolt of fear. "You—you watched the fight!" he said as his thoughts ran ahead of his mouth. "You were inside the house! Everything you said, the—her arms, her being—"
Loki skirted an overturned chest and paused a step before Thor. His hands floated near his waist, but didn't reach out for Thor.
"I heard her coming," Loki said in a forcibly calm voice. "I had time to sneak behind your animals. She only had a few minutes before you came back."
"You were in here though!" Thor half shouted. "She was in here with you and then I—you said I nearly brought the roof down!"
"But you didn't!"
Thor coughed as he inhaled dusty air. "But I could have! I can't tell my friends from my enemies in that state!" "What if I'd attacked you?!"
"But you didn't!" Loki said again with force.
Thor's chest ached as he tried to bring his breathing into something more manageable. Loki didn't understand. He'd already shown how little he cared for his own safety by never dressing well enough for the weather and never mentioning the pain he felt or asking Thor for ingredients to ease it. He roused Thor from his murderous stupor despite having seen how blindly destructive he'd been. Thor didn't know how to handle it.
Loki had only just met Thor, he couldn't have known how Thor would react to him—
"I asked for safety," Loki said as his fingers danced over Thor's, "before I wound up in the water."
Thor's breath caught in his throat as his eyes found Loki's.
"And was brought to you."
Something fierce burned in Thor's chest, proud beyond measure that he'd been deemed safe, but frightened now more than ever at the same time.
His friend Brunnhilde once said Thor had been blessed by Thor, perhaps this was what she meant?
Perhaps the gods trusted Thor?
"It calls to—to those we knew, old friends," Loki whispered and glanced away as his jaw tightened. "You," his voice went softer still as his hand dropped away from Thor's and wandered up toward the side of his neck. "You didn't hurt me."
Thor could guess that 'it' meant witchcraft, though Loki may not voice it.
A log cracked in the fire pit, spitting smoke and sparks as it caught once more on the red fabric of Loki's borrowed tunic. With no happy flush to mimic, it highlighted the windburned skin along Loki's pale arms and legs and reminded Thor of the sharp, snow-capped mountains at sunrise.
Loki had no soft belly, nor any rounded cheeks or thighs to show as evidence of plentiful harvests, as Thor had.
They were different, fundamentally so.
What lived in the mountains grew wild, and endured violent weather, and deathly temperatures that took Thor's breath away. Thor's mother built her home in a wild place, but Thor himself had more experience with the land, and its fertile earth. He loved to care for his garden and animals and watch them grow.
He couldn't imagine Loki ever crossing paths or becoming friends with someone like Thor. How could he when they were so different?
Thor didn't know Loki though, which only added to his confusion.
"How can I be an old friend?" Thor asked. "I've never met you before."
Loki's eyes fell back onto Thor. "This life is one of a number, you know this," he said slowly. "At its end, Yggdrasil will take root, beginning the cycle anew. Just as we found one another here, we may find each other there."
The spiraling confusion Thor spent the morning worrying over began to clear. Whether or not Thor remembered how interwoven their lives may have been once upon a time, the sudden strength of his feelings finally made sense.
They knew one another.
Thor's heart remembered Loki even when his mind could not.
He reached a cautious hand out, and carefully tugged Loki closer so his head met the crook of Thor's neck and the two slipped backwards to lay atop the bed. The straw-ticking mattress did little to ease the aches in Thor's body as he tucked Loki's thin frame closer. He'd sheared his sheep recently, at least his wool blankets felt soft, and thick.
Perhaps he still felt strange holding someone he only knew in a past life so close, but he couldn't deny the way he eased as Loki grew heavier in his arms.
"Do you remember me?" Thor asked softly.
"Do you remember me?" Loki repeated, in a wry, but kind voice.
Thor shook his head. "I just thought I'd gone mad."
Loki made a soft sound.
"It was hard to tell," Thor continued as a small smile curled over his lips. "I've lived alone for a while now. I couldn't guess if my loneliness had me latching onto the first face I saw, or if something else was at play."
"And how do you feel now?" Loki asked.
In truth, panicked about having gone berserk with Loki in the house. He felt significantly happier holding Loki close though, as his thoughts raced less when he could look Loki over and see how safe he felt.
He suddenly wanted to know what happened in their past life to make him worry so much.
Perhaps Loki had been in more than one dangerous scenario? Perhaps his poor treatment of his body had been habitual, and Thor had been forever trying to keep him from flirting with danger?
Something fiercely protective burned in Thor's chest, overtaking the slow throb emanating from his open injuries.
"I feel as though I want to keep those raiders from ever laying eyes on you." Thor said as he began to pull at a knot in Loki's dark hair. "I want to bundle you in fur, and keep you warm. I want to take you south to where my father lived and feed you."
Loki snickered as a small smile crept over his lips. "I suppose the food helps to support your argument to go south?"
"It does," Thor said with a grunt. "I'm skilled at growing and hunting, but my friend Volstagg is skilled in all manner of cooking. The last time we spoke, he prepared a dish of salted pork with crispy fried onion and thick slices of tart apple, slowly fried in butter, garlic, and cloves." His stomach rumbled as the smells rose up in his memory. "Even this late in winter, he would have something delicious in mind for us. My friends would be glad to have extra hands to help as well," 'particularly if they are in need,' he silently added as his nerves grew, "and they would find no fault in us for seeking allies against those who attacked us."
They may need allies of their own as well.
"But Idunn is on her way," Loki said, tilting his head and allowing Thor to continue combing through the knots in his hair, "and she will bring spring with her. Imagine keeping a home deep in the mountains, with the moon and stars as company. We could watch the Northern Lights play across the night sky."
Thor shook his head even as his imagination painted a tender picture in his mind. "A home like that would need to be built in summer. We should go south and regroup first."
Loki gave a quiet sigh.
"We have to warn people too," Thor said, "a party should be assembled to put a stop to these raiders."
"If your friends live so far south, why would they come so far north to help?"
"Because I ask it of them," Thor said as pride flickered in his chest at having a solution on hand for Loki. If his friends had been attacked, then Thor had vital information, as he knew where at least two raiders may be found. "My friends are good people; they will hear our tale and join us."
"And if they don't?" Loki asked as he sat up and began helping Thor up and out of his ruined tunic.
Thor groaned as his shoulder throbbed with his movements. "They will. They'll help us, whether by hunting down those—" again he realized that he had no proof the two strangers worked together. "Those people, or by giving us a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and kindness and care."
Maybe he should've returned to the village straight after his mother passed, but he'd been so caught up in day-to-day needs, tending to his animals, garden, and house, he couldn't have just left.
Loki hummed and slid off of the bed. His soft voice swept around Thor, asking after herbs, flowers, and honey, and if Thor only owned wool or if he kept spare fabrics. Before Thor quite knew what happened, his shoulder had been slathered in honey and wrapped in linen. A strip of birch bark appeared in his hands alongside the jar of vinegar with promise that if he swallowed quickly, the taste would be less horrendous.
He gathered several of Thor's largest woven bags and settled them beside the ruined workbench before filling them with all manner of blankets and supplies.
"I'm sure you'll want to keep your mother's charms," Loki said as he pulled on the first pair of trousers he laid eyes on and began pinching the sides. "I don't know what else you may be devastated to leave here though," his eyes flashed over the overturned baskets and chests. "Where do you normally keep your needle and thread?"
Thor pointed Loki in the right direction before pinching his nose and swallowing back a mouthful of vinegar.
He mentally whispered a thought to Eir, asking her to speed his healing before climbing back to his feet and carefully changing his clothing.
The raider's destruction made packing the bare necessities quick, as she'd scattered most things throughout the living space. She hadn't sought after the thickset wool cloaks, nor the heavy furs, which Thor couldn't help but find a little odd given the weather. If Thor raided the house, he'd have taken anything useful.
He tried to soothe the loss the raider's invasion left by pausing every so often and bundling Loki in the thickest items Thor came across. He relished the pride bubbling in his chest at seeing a warm flush decorating Loki's cheeks.
Without quite realizing it, he found he'd saved dismantling his mother's charms as his last task. He tried to calm himself by whispering to each carving as he wrapped them in his softest sheep's wool, but he couldn't tell if he felt better or worse for it.
Loki appeared at his elbow and gestured to a small carving of Mjölnir. "You should wear that one," he whispered.
Thor stared at the hammer and silently, perhaps futilely, debated how his namesake would feel if he wore it, but found his sea of loss a more distracting issue for Thor to focus on. He wanted the charm, whether the symbol belonged to him or not. He searched for a small pouch, one he could keep on his person, but he found every bag he owned had been torn open.
Raiders searched for valuables.
Thor knew that.
When he'd raided, he'd done the same with bags of coins, jewelry, and precious stones, but he'd never experienced such an invasion on himself.
He wished the raider had never come.
A simmering pool of misery, frustration, and anger widened to fill in his belly. He doubted it would go away anytime soon.
Loki found a length of twine and knotted it over the short handle of the wooden hammer before looping it around Thor's neck and tying the twine off. Perhaps Thor's friends would think of his attachment to the charm as arrogant, or maybe they'd understand his need to keep something his mother made close.
Thor spent a few quiet moments whispering goodbyes to his animals, and feeding them one last time, for all the good it may do.
He wished they could stay.
He wished his mother still lived, because she certainly would've found Loki interesting and delighted in sharing her knowledge with him. Those wishes wouldn't come true though, no matter how desperately he wanted them to. Each required time to unravel itself and Thor lacked the skill required to even begin that task.
Loki might know how to go about succeeding at that, as he'd found Thor in at least two lifetimes now, but Thor didn't know if he could ask for wishes.
He doubted Loki could bring Thor's mother back anyway.
She feasted in Helgafjell now, or so she'd promised Thor on her deathbed. Thor couldn't pull her from her resting place.
Without anything left to gather, Thor doused the fire in the pit and opened the back door, hoping his animals would find warmth where they may.
"Do you think your boat will still be there?"
Thor dropped his axe into a leather harness around his hip and hefted two bags over his shoulder. "Unless they've trashed it, or more likely stolen it, I don't see why it wouldn't be there."
"What if they're lying in wait?" Loki asked.
Thor twisted and searched over the woods and hills with a cautious look. Beyond the whisper of icy wind, he couldn't hear anything. No signs of an incoming raiding party, no horns or shouts rang out, nor any odd whistle.
"Do you think we should take the road?" Thor asked as he turned back to Loki.
Loki shook his head.
"It would take longer," Thor said, "and leave us more vulnerable to attack. We'd end up needing the boat sooner or later no matter which we choose."
"If we go north though," Loki began with a whisper, "we could find a safe place to sleep beneath the stars. We have fur and wool to keep warm," his fingers trailed over the lynx pelt Thor tucked around his neck earlier. "We'll smell spruce and snow, and bathe in glacial pools so cold and deep, they'll wake your soul," his hand dropped and to loop around his middle. "If we go south, there'll be waste, stinking in muddy footpaths, long-houses crammed with sweaty, drunk warriors, and families with shrieking children, and crying infants."
Thor settled their bags in the snow and stepped closer. "I won't deny that where we're going is going to smell bad sometimes," he said, gently pulling Loki's hood up around his ears, "but we'll also find good mead to drink among these drunks, smoked meats and rich stews to fill our bellies among these families and safety in large numbers among these warriors."
Loki stared at Thor for a long moment before his eyes pinched and his nose wrinkled. He finally gave a slight shudder and grabbed one of the bags.
He silently comforted himself with the knowledge that they'd only been attacked by two people, and his father's village would've easily been able to repel such a small number.
The raider's blood splatter guided them halfway to the rowboat, but veered off in the same copse of trees Thor met the visitor in. He couldn't decide if he should feel safer with that information, or more concerned. Much like Thor, it seemed she headed toward her allies. Which could very well be the visitor, though he'd been looking for a Loki, rather than valuables, and raiders often shared very little interest in muddying their thievery with manhunts.
However, if someone had stolen from a raider, Thor could understand why a manhunt might occur, particularly if the stolen goods held great value. Yet the visitor's focus on Loki made little sense, if so. Thor knew Loki had nothing of value, particularly as his things were ruined by the water and easily replaceable.
They found the boat quickly enough, alongside a chaotic spiral of tracks which didn't belong to Thor. Someone most certainly explored the area, but left what supplies he found alone.
Either the raider hadn't found the boat, which would be unlikely if she worked with the visitor, or she had, and deliberately left good supplies go un-stolen.
He still didn't know how either of them found the boat in the first place.
He still didn't know if the two worked together, and if so, why one hunted Loki while the other raided.
He still didn't know why Loki had so many bruises, or how he wound up in the sea.
If he could keep Loki safe, and earn his trust—which Thor supposed worked both ways, seeing as he knew little about Thor as Thor knew of him—perhaps he could begin to ask for some answers?