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The cunning young prince stood up straight, chin raised, jaw clenched, as he watched his older brother measure and string a single maroon thread through the eye of a finely pointed needle. Being stipped of his magic, there was no use in struggling with the bonds that held his arms in place behind his back. He eyed the king carefully, paying attention to even his slightest movements. His brother turned to face him, taking but four long strides until he was close enough to feel the younger man’s cold, shallow breath at his neck. The prince spat at his sibbling’s feet and smirked at the mixed expression of rage and sorrow it summoned in the mans eyes.
”You’ll not make this easy for me, will you, brother?” Thor sadly mused, expecting nothing less.
Loki stayed quiet.
"Be still,” the larger man demanded. Loki obeyed, and Thor held his friend’s neck, his thumb gently pressing his chin further up, in his other hand he raised the needle and thread. Loki watched in silence, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. His lower lip quivered, his left eye twitched slightly, but he fought well to convey no emotion. He prayed Thor didn’t see the tear threatening to fall in the torchlight.
Thor started with Loki’s bottom lip. He flinched as he felt the sharp press into the sensitive layer of skin, piercing through nerves and tissue, blood vessels leaking red from the wound. A small, high-pitched wimper found its way out of Loki’s mouth, biting his tongue and trying to focus on other things so his brother wouldn’t believe he was in too much pain. Even now, under this demented punishment, there was no way he was going to let the king have the satisfaction of knowing he hurt. He hurt all over, but the sting of the stitches was something new.
He was glad that Thor was the one sewing his lips shut. He would never admit it, but he was happy his friend was the one to bring him to justice. He knew Thor would try to minimize the amount of pain possible. He knew Thor still loved him.
The king was three-fourths of the way finished when Loki felt it. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He sucked in and shut his eyes tight, knowing his brother had seen it. Pathetic. Thor carried on, and Loki could tell Thor was speeding up just to get it over with, just so he wouldn’t have to feel the cold metal against his lips, splitting through skin and drawing blood. The prince felt lines of it, dripping from his chin, and he clenched his fists through his bonds.
Thor pulled the needle up through his brother’s top lip and tied off the final stitch, the faint metallic smell of blood staining the air. Loki heard him discard the needle, eyes still shut, and then he felt the warmth of the king’s hands on either side of his face. His breathing hitched when he felt Thor’s lips at the tear he had shed just moments ago, and then over his own lips, the threads hardly interfering but giving the one-sided kiss an odd feel. When he opened his eyes, he saw Thor’s face lined with trails of dried tears. Loki went back to biting at his tongue and ran it along the back of the threads that entered his mouth, blood still slowly seeping from the last few stitches. He shook his head at himself and the bitter, salty taste, and watched Thor clean the rest of the blood from his chin.
The broken young prince stood up straight, chin raised, jaw clenched. He hardly exhaled a small sigh and waited for further instruction.