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Thor was a mere child when it happened. The first time he saw his mother's peaceful, calm face look down at him with eyes so full of anger and disappointment that his heart sank to the pit of his stomach.
It happened so fast, an action brought by a quick and furious urge. It was a dreadful, powerful feeling that possessed him to reach out and grab his brother by the collar as they ran.
It was a simple game, one would try to catch the other before returning to the waiting arms of their parents. It started fair enough. Until Thor noticed how his mother would cheer a little louder for Loki's near victories, how she would step a little closer to make it easier for the tiny child to win.
Next thing Thor knew he'd flung the much smaller child to the ground, his fists still full of his brother's rumbled collar. The instant he heard Loki's weight slam on the cold, marble floor his short burst of anger vanished.
The crown prince of Asgard never felt so small as their mother rushed to lift his little brother up, her pale, elegant hands gently wiping the gush of tears he could no longer hold.
The furious urge flared within Thor's heart again, but this time he stepped back. The shared look of hurt on his mother's and brother's face turned his anger to shame.
Loki was clinging on to their mother's leg, but his eyes, so wide, hurt, and terribly wet were fixed on him.
"Hush now my sweet child," Frigga whispered. Her graceful hands ran through Loki's dark hair. She kissed his forehead and gathered him in her embrace. His tiny form quickly disappeared like a doll among her flowing, sapphire silks.
Their father appeared beside her, inspecting the situation with his single weary eye. Thor felt some twinge of relief as his father placed a hand over his mother's shoulder. The relief was dispelled when his mother, her eyes still stern and sad, placed the crying Loki against the All-Father's chest. She reached out her hand to her eldest son, a gesture not of comfort but a command.
"Come with me."
Thor obeyed, glancing quickly at his brother before taking his mother's hand. Her fingers closed over his tiny hands, warmth and strength radiating from the touch.
The young prince squeezed her hand tightly, as if to reassure himself that it was not an illusion. She returned the gesture, smiling softly as she lead him further down the hall, away enough that Loki could not hear.
"Mother-" Thor spoke up first, his blue eyes searching her face for a sign of comfort, "I did not mean too-"
"My dearest Thor." She knelt down, her eyes level with his. She cupped his face with her hands, "There is no need to lie. Especially to me."
Thor gulped, wishing he could look away.
"Why did you raise your hand against him?"
The crown prince tried to shrug but found himself motionless even under her light touch.
"Thor," Her voice was solid, sad, and the sound of it made his stubbornness waver. She took his hands and held them tightly, "Loki is your little brother. Your only one."
The child nodded.
"Do you know that it pains me to see either of you get hurt?"
Thor looked up at her, surprise clear on his face.
"I didn't want him to cry," Thor said, "I just-"
He sighed, a sweet, fleeting sound that only a child could muster. Frigga smiled, her arms enveloping her golden-haired son as his lips started to tremble, his small body falling forward into her embrace.
"Am I a terrible brother?" Thor kept his voice as steady as he could, trying to keep his mother from hearing the shakiness of his words.
"No my sweet child, no." Frigga said. Thor hugged her tightly, breathing in the scent of the those blossoms she so loved. The ones he often saw Loki gathering in baskets to present to her.
"I was mad at him," Thor said, "So mad."
"What has your brother done to upset you so?"
Thor's eyes scrunched, his fists balled, face red.
"Nothing."
"Well, that is certainly curious isn't it? Being mad at someone for nothing." Frigga said, "My son, it will only exhaust you."
"You favor him," Thor said, "You favor him more than me. That's why you spend hours and hours with him, always reading and studying. That's why you cheer louder when he wins."
"Oh my son," Frigga wiped away her child's tears, "Both of you have my heart. One does not outweigh the other."
Thor wanted to believe it but he felt otherwise. He knew for a fact that Odin was delighted in him, but his father's praises were short lived. The All-Father constantly demanded improvement. There was no finish line for him. Loki and Frigga on the other hand, would spend hours on end together, and not once did she seem tired of lavishing him with praise and comfort. Her patience was limitless, her spirit so generous and nurturing Thor swore he could see Loki, as frail and tiny as a child could be, grow stronger just by her presence.
But her devotion to her youngest son had taken it's toll, and the weight of jealousy pressed against Thor's young heart.
"You love us the same?" Thor asked, fearful of her answer.
"Yes. And that answer will never change my love," Her touch was warm, her aura wrapping him in light and assurance, "Listen carefully my son."
Thor nodded, his cries subsiding as he rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. His mother hushed him and pull him close.
"Your brother is different from you in many ways. You were destined to be warrior. It was evident since you were born."
There was no mistaking the slight brightness in the child's tear soaked eyes. Such pride. So much like his father indeed.
"Your father teaches you in the way you must go, as a leader and future king. I must teach your brother to improve his talents, nurture his skills. As different as you both are the truth remains that you are brothers. You must protect each other. When all friends and allies have failed, the two of you must never lose sight of your bond. Especially you, my love."
She smiled gently. Thor nodded slowly.
"You are the eldest. I wish for you to protect each other, be patient with each other, forgive..." Frigga said, "And I trust you to remember even when he has forgotten."
"Yes mother," Thor replied, "I'm sorry mother."
"There is someone else you must apologize to."
The Queen of Asgard stood to her full height, the palm of her hand open. Thor reached up and held her hand as they walked back to the throne room.
"I don't really hate him," Thor said, rubbing his face roughly one more time as his father and brother came into view, "Not ever."
"I know my darling," Frigga said, squeezing his hand, "I know."
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
"Your brother is waiting," She tilted her head gracefully towards the child hiding behind the All-Father, "Go to him."
She watched them carefully, her husband's arms around her as they observed their sons going from that awkward apology stage children tried to avoid to running through the halls as if nothing ever happened. There was laughter again, loud, beautiful laughter as the two princes chased each other, arguing all the while on who would be the first to tire and catch their breath.
In one blink the two children had fallen, tripping over the other and tumbling to the floor. Odin moved swiftly, but a quicker hand pulled him back. Frigga released her hold, smiling as she watched her sons raise from their fall. Thor was the first to stand up, his laugh boisterous and warm. Loki appeared dazed at first, but soon his bright voice joined that of his Thor's. The eldest child reached down, lifting his younger brother up, pulling him into the start of another run.
There were many more times throughout the years where Thor felt the pangs of jealousy. But the feelings subsided quickly. His mother's generous, calming presence would simply not allow it. There were times at night when he'd leave his chambers and seek her. Whenever his thoughts were troubled or when fears of monsters and darkness would overwhelm him, he could always find her in Loki's chambers. It seemed that his younger brother shared the same fears too.
The jealousy would flare, seeing his dark haired brother nestled in her embrace, those innocent green eyes lost in the stories she weaved with her magic. But then their mother would see him at the door, smile, reach her hand out to welcome him in. In a matter of seconds his envy was forgotten, vanquished in the laughter of his brother's kind voice and the warmth of his mother's arms. She cast elaborate illusions over their heads, painting the room with moving pictures of daring adventures, brave warriors, and noble kings. And then at last, when the stories all faded into wisps of light, she would gather them in her arms, her sweet voice humming a lullaby as they drifted into sleep.
"You both have my heart,"
Thor remembered her saying once as he kissed their cheeks, the beat of her heart radiating so strongly as she held him tight.
"Do not ever forget that."
The memories felt foreign to him now, as if they were never truly his own. Thor stood tall, his black mourning cloak shielding him from the biting wind.
"Queen Frigga burns at the edge of the world. And she will burn brighter than the stars she dwells among."
The words brought little comfort to him.
He stared towards the edge of the world, the darkness immense and empty. He glanced at the stars, trying to see their patterns, imagining her face looking down on him.
He couldn't . The stars were cold, distant, silent. His mother was none of those things.
For a moment his hands opened up, allowing the coldness to spread through them. It only made the absence of her warmth all the more profound.
It was customary for prisoners to be denied the right to see their loved ones traveling to the edge of the world. By law it was part of their punishment, a cruel, scaring law that his father refused to waver for Loki's sake. It was unfair, ill-spirited and heartless. Thor knew it was. But he was glad of it all the same. And the knowledge of it shamed him deeper than he wished to admit.
He feared Loki's grief. How it would certainly have surpassed his own in terms of violent display. How horrid would it appear to have someone as fallen as Loki grieve so greatly while the true son had to remain so quiet and composed for the sake of appearing strong?
Thor shook his head and closed his tired, weary eyes. The scent of blossoms laced through the air, and with it the sudden memory of him and Loki racing to pick those flowers from the garden to shower the petals on their unsuspecting mother. The memory made him laugh. But it was a bitter, hollow sound.
He felt himself withdrawing from those who sought to console him. Not Jane, nor his friends, nor his own father could comfort him. Their attempts only made her absence more striking, more real.
In the dead of the night, when the lights from the ceremony had burned out he found himself standing at the veranda overseeing the gardens. The blossoms were sweeter it seemed. And the coldness was not so terrible there. He half expected her to appear as he glanced quietly into the sky. The stars blinked slowly back at him, though the darkness seemed to swallow them. He stared at his hands, so strong, large, and dangerous. He missed having her hold them.
He thought hard about revealing the news of her death to Loki. And his indecisiveness made the choice for him. He couldn't tell Loki. For what purpose? To drive them further apart than they already were?
Thor knew, as cruel as it seemed, that he could not face Loki with such news. For both their sakes. Loki would blame him as he always did. He would curse and lash and grieve. In spite of all the anger and hatred between them, it was a sight Thor did not have a heart to see.
You must protect each other.
Thor told himself that hiding the truth from his brother would be merciful until he recalled how withholding the truth was the catalyst for what started this entire mess to begin with. And even with that knowledge he couldn't bring himself to confront his brother. He simply could not. It would make the rift between them deeper, irreparable.
When all friends and allies have failed, the two of you must never lose sight of your bond. Especially you, my love.
Her words haunted him. His failure ever evident.
"Mother, I wish I could trust him," He whispered, remembering the sadness of her smile, the hopeful gleam in her eyes, "I truly wish I could."
He found no answer. No soft, comforting voice. No gentle warm hands to hold his or a kiss against his tired brow. Instead he looked up at the stars, his vision drowning in a seamless blur.