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Thor rued the days gone by when he had expected, even demanded, to be king, and the ignorance that had begotten his foolish entitlement. For what he estimated to be approximately a century he had been sitting here listening to the council squabble, but their voices were just white noise now, a buzzing in the back of his mind like a swarm of bees. He hadn’t heard an actual word in quite some time. There could certainly be nothing more tedious than this.
At least the weather was nice.
It was a sunny, mild day in Norway, with only a passing cloud and the occasional gust to tickle the trees. Even the sea was relaxed and unhurried; it kissed the rocks gently and quietly with no sign of its usual fury. Maybe he should give a reward to whomever had the idea to hold the session outdoors today.
“Your majesty?”
Thor jolted at the sound of his name and sat up straighter. He found all eyes on him and felt himself blushing. He’d dozed off. What would his father say?
“Sorry, repeat that?” Thor asked.
“I only said that the Midgardians have chosen to renew the trade deal for this year,” said Tolvi, Minister of Trade.
Thor smiled. “That is good news. Which Midgardians?”
“The Croatians.”
“Excellent.”
“A question about that,” said Ingar, Minister of the Treasury, and Thor zoned out again. The council could figure out all the fine details and bring the final product to him for approval.
He glanced at Loki, surprised his brother hadn’t said anything about Thor’s breach of decorum a moment ago, and frowned at the picture he found.
Loki was slumped and wilting in his chair, hair damp with sweat on his forehead and at his temples. He had removed his formal jacket and unlaced the neck of his tunic, the skin underneath flushed and glistening.
Thor dropped his eyes to the mugs of water on the grass between their chairs. Thor’s was nearly untouched—Loki’s was bone dry.
While Tolvi and Ingar continued working out the fine details of the agreement Thor was sure would remain unchanged, Thor subtly reached down and poured what remained of his water into Loki’s mug. Then he picked it up and held it out to his brother, whispering Loki’s name.
The way Loki turned his head was as if it pained him to do so, and Thor gave him a guilty look, presenting the mug like a peace offering.
Loki snatched it from his hands and downed it in two gulps. He gave Thor a tired but grateful look and wrapped his fingers around the cool metal, holding them for a moment before pressing them against his heated forehead and chest.
Thor winced. It was a lovely Norwegian summer day, akin to a gentle spring day in Asgard, the kind that always sent Thor riding his favorite steed through the fields and forests outside of the capital city, the scent of grass and dirt clinging to him all the way home.
The kind that often drove Loki to tuck away in a dim room, hidden away from the heat. Or at least to cast a cooling spell upon himself.
Right. That was it then.
Thor leaned to whisper into Loki’s ear. “I’ll be right back.”
Loki blinked at him in sluggish surprise. “What?”
Thor pushed himself up from the chair. “Cover for me.”
“You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Loki hissed, indignation reviving him a bit. “Thor!”
“Two minutes,” Thor said, and slipped away under the disapproving gaze of his brother and the other councilors. Loki’s glare burned into his back.
He strolled some distance away and ducked into the shade of a storage building. The rough wood caught on his shirt when he leaned his back against it. He shut his eyes, concentrating on the movement of the ions in the air and the direction of the wind. He could feel when the breeze began to cool, when the moisture in the atmosphere began to coalesce and stick together. The light beyond his eyelids dimmed, the wind grew stronger, and when he felt the first drop of rain kiss his forehead, he smiled.
He peered around the building and saw the moment the councilors realized what was happening. They squawked and fluttered in their robes, bidding each other a hasty goodbye before scattering like a flock of frightened chickens.
Loki remained where he was. He sank further into his chair, limbs loose and head tilted back, face upturned to take the downpour. In seconds he was soaked to the skin. His tunic clung to his body, and his hair ran with thick rivulets that dripped into the drenched grass. A slight upturn at the corners of his mouth was the only sign he hadn’t fallen asleep.
Thor smiled, then closed his eyes and faced the storm.