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———
There’s another cheer from the crowd and Loki sighs, rolling his eyes and stirring his drink with his straw. He spares a glance over to the source of the cheering: his idiot brother, doing a predictably idiotic thing. He’s been at it for a while, but Loki has only been paying the slightest of attention. Thor rising to the challenge of a drinking contest is nothing new, and frankly Loki finds them incredibly tedious and boring. It’s much easier to have fun if one is able to move around, he thinks.
On one side of the table is Thor, surrounded by the Idiots Three and Sif, who are rubbing his shoulders and giving him little pep talks when it looks like he’s flagging. On the other side of the table is a mountain giant - Loki is pretty sure his name is Arnar, but not entirely certain. They hadn’t exactly been formally introduced.
Satisfied that Thor is still where Loki had left him, he heads back into the crowd, where perhaps he can dance and find someone to warm his bed tonight.
By the time he’s beginning to get tired, he’s lost track of his brother. He’s gathered through other peoples’ conversations that the contest had been more or less a draw, and Loki doesn’t envy Thor’s friends, who will undoubtedly be the ones returning him to the palace in one piece. Loki himself doesn’t plan to participate; he never does. What Thor does is Thor’s business. It’s a system that has worked just fine for decades and Loki isn’t about to change it now.
He heads back to the palace on foot, enjoying the cool night air, the invigorating breeze, the gentle glow of the rainbow bridge in the distance. He’s planning his schedule for the following day - breakfast and then spellwork for as long as he feels like - when he trips over something in the path.
When he looks, he finds it’s a boot. The boot is attached to a foot, and the foot is attached to his brother, who is sprawled in a bush just off the walking path. Alone.
“Thor,” he hisses, more than a little worried. “What are you doing?”
His brother doesn’t answer, he simply mumbles something and curls up into himself.
“ Thor! ”
Groaning, Loki bends down and shakes him, a little rough but he thinks Thor deserves it. It doesn’t seem to make him any more conscious, so Loki resigns himself and grabs his brother by the shoulders and hauls him up.
It’s not like Loki is weak by any means but Thor is barely moving. The annoyance of having to deal with his drunken brother far outweighs the annoyance of carrying him. “Come on,” he urges, draping Thor’s arm over his shoulders and snaking his arm about his brother’s waist to try and hold him upright.
Thor slurs something incomprehensible but very possibly either a declaration of love for Loki, or a promise to rip his innards out. It’s hard to tell. It’s also hard to maneuver him over the cobblestones towards the palace. “Move your feet, I don’t want to drag you,” he orders and Thor does indeed start making an effort to help out with his own rescue from the bushes.
It takes what feels like five hundred years to get to the palace, and Loki cloaks them in shadows as he and Thor make their way up to their chambers. Thor is making a noise that suggests he might be losing his stomach contents in the very near future and Loki picks up his pace a little, having absolutely no desire to have to deal with that too.
Thor mutters a string of syllables that Loki has no idea how to interpret, but luckily for him, they reach Thor’s rooms by then. He somehow manages to open the doors while keeping a tight grip on him — Thor’s swaying rather ridiculously at this point — and shove him through, pushing him into the massive bed.
“You’re welcome,” he says, rolling his eyes.
Having done more than his fair share of good deeds for the day, Loki leaves his brother there, handily summoning a bin next to the bed just in case he needs it. Thor reaches out a hand, groping for something blindly. He makes a noise that might be an attempt to say Loki’s name, but Loki is absolutely not going to be dealing with handsy Thor on top of everything.
“Go to sleep,” he orders, and heads to his own chambers for a well-deserved bath.
—————————
Thor is pretty sure he’s dead. If not dead, then at least dying . He has no idea how he got into his bed, has no idea why he’s so damned hungover, but it makes fear curdle in his stomach. The last thing he wants to do is go down for breakfast and find out from Odin all the different ways he’s once again brought shame on the House of Odin. But it will be even worse if he doesn’t appear, he’s learned that lesson well.
His morning attendants shuffle him through his morning routine and Thor more or less sleeps through it as they move his arms to tug a tunic on over his head, as they brush and braid back his hair, as they press a cool cloth to his puffy eyes. Thor supposes he’s grateful they’re all so skilled at hiding a night of overindulgence. Now if he can just move under his own power, the day might not be as bad as it could be.
He considers asking Loki for one of his brother’s soothing potions, but as he isn’t sure what happened the previous night and thus isn’t sure how Loki is feeling towards him this morning, he instead pours a goblet of fortified wine and chugs it down. It nearly stops his hands’ shaking, and it gives him enough mental strength to make the journey down to the private dining room where they normally eat their first meal of the day together before obligations spread the family apart.
“Nice of you to join us,” is Odin’s greeting when Thor finally sits.
“My apologies, Father,” he says, inclining his head as far as his migraine and nausea will let him. He’s tempted to have the meal attendant pour him another glass of wine, but Odin’s eye is already on him and Loki is giving him an inscrutable look.
He tries to disappear into his chair as he eats; nothing is appetizing, but if he doesn’t eat normally, there will be questions Thor doesn’t actually have answers to. He can’t explain where he’d been or what he’d done last night, and he doesn’t want to call attention to the fact he’s not feeling well.
A king does not show weakness, nor should a prince.
He forces himself to push down all of his discomfort and worry and anxiety and focuses on just putting himself back together before he actually has to get a start on his day. He’s got a meeting with the curia regis that Odin expects him to lead, training with the Einharjar in the afternoon, he’s supposed to hear petitions from the nobility, he needs to make sure the farrier has taken care of re-shoeing his horse, he needs to bring some rain to the western farmland, and he has a fitting for a new formal outfit; not the normal armor, something more suitable for state visits and things like that. He’s sure it’s going to be itchy and uncomfortable.
Even just thinking about the long list of obligations on his plate makes him want to lock himself in his rooms and sleep for a thousand years. Maybe by then he won’t feel so out of his depth, pulled far too thin. He feels his edges starting to fray.
“Thor?” Frigga’s voice cuts through the fog.
“Forgive me, Mother,” he quickly tries to cover. “I was just… going through my schedule for the day.”
“And looking like a slack-jawed idiot while you do it,” comes Odin’s input and Thor feels himself wilt a little inside.
“Apologies, Father,” he mumbles, and downs his glass, wishing it was something that could help soothe his nerves. The Curia Regis are the most incompetent group of bickering old courtiers that Thor has ever had the displeasure of meeting. It seems that they can get no task done without an argument, and judging by the way his head throbs at the light from the window, Thor is sure he might pass out before they reach any decision.
Although he suspects that even fainting will not get him out of this today. In fact, he’s sure it would only make everything much worse.
Loki’s eyes glare into him and he pointedly does not look in his direction. The last thing he needs is Loki haranguing him about whatever he’s upset about now. It seems regardless of who it is, he’s always disappointing someone.
It hurts even more when Loki is disappointed in him. He’s the older brother, it’s been drilled into him for centuries that he must set a proper example, that he should be what Loki, and everyone else really, should strive towards. The golden prince, the perfect warrior, the dutiful son.
Asgard’s future.
It’s overwhelming.
It’s more than he thinks he can live up to, but he has no choice. He is Odin’s heir, and nothing he does is his own choice, not really. Loki would probably argue that Thor chooses to overindulge, but Thor would argue that he’s practically expected to. Besides, it’s the only way he can sleep, some nights.
A crown prince should make merry with his people. A crown prince should be available at all times, sitting in council in mornings, helping the subjects in the afternoon and carousing in the evening with great vigor. He should be able and just, helpful and friendly, and most of all, he should be obedient . He is Odin’s heir. He is Odin’s legacy.
It’s all he really has.
He sighs and asks to be excused with the explanation that he wants to get a head start on his tasks for the day. He hears Odin’s voice, but not the words. He’s sure it’s something awful so he just pushes away from the table and leaves.
————————————-
Thor had looked like he was about to keel over all through breakfast. Loki isn’t overly surprised, considering the state of his brother last night - or rather, early this morning - but he’s a little worried - and frankly irritated - that Thor hadn’t come to him for a remedy for his hangover. He always has before. Now Loki is going to have to pick up the slack and his free day is ruined.
He resigns himself to a day of meetings and otherwise terribly dull activities. He could, of course, just leave Thor to his own devices. After all, it hadn’t been Loki forcing the mugs of ale into his hands last night. In fact, Thor rather owes him for dragging his sorry carcass across half of Asgard.
But Loki, for all his faults, cannot not rid himself of his greatest weakness: he loves his brother. Perhaps even a little too much, because he’s sure no one else would have done this for Thor.
Sighing, Loki asks to be excused, kisses his mother on the cheek and goes in search of his brother.
To his surprise - or perhaps not - Thor hasn’t gotten far. He’s sitting on one of the many settees lining the halls, leaning over his knees with his head in his hands. Loki is tempted not to say anything, to just go to Thor’s meetings and appointments and if Thor shows up he shows up. But that would make Thor look extremely bad and Loki doesn’t actually want to do that.
“Are you alright?” he asks, sidling up next to Thor.
Not moving from his hunched position, Thor nods. “I just need a minute. You can tell Father I’ll be there on time if that’s what you’re here for.”
Loki actually feels a pang of hurt that Thor thinks he’s here at Odin’s behest. “I’m not the All-Father’s errand boy,” he says tightly.
“Then why are you here,” Thor mumbles, rubbing at his temples.
A red hot flash of anger courses through Loki.
“Right, okay then. Better get going!” He says, a little too loudly, and purposely slaps Thor’s back, just the way Thor does to everyone else.
The noise that escapes Thor’s lips is a cross between a moan and a whine. Loki hadn’t realized Thor could even make that sort of noise. Before he can say anything further, though, Thor pushes himself to his feet. He sways a little, but then squares his shoulders and swallows heavily. “Right then,” he says. “I will see you this afternoon.”
Despite his annoyance and general indifference to Thor’s self-induced crises, he knows he has to be a good brother, to protect this idiot from himself. “Oh, no,” he says, “I’ve been meaning to sit in on these council meetings and petition requests. Just in case you ever need to take a sick day from being king.”
Thor scowls. “Shut up.”
“Of course, my services as a substitute king come with hefty fees. I shall take from the treasury as I please and—”
“I’ll see you,” Thor huffs and stalks off. His stride is unbalanced but he turns the corner and is gone.
Loki shakes his head at the sight. It’s what he deserves for drinking himself into oblivion and expecting everything to be alright. Loki isn’t one to deny himself an indulgence or so, but he knows his limits. And he certainly wouldn’t put himself in a position to make a fool of himself in front of the curia regis. Well, if this is the precedent Thor wants to set for his regnancy, so be it.
Loki will clean up the mess, if only for Asgard’s greater good.
———————————-
Thor is having a hard time sitting still. On either side of him, Loki and Odin sit still as statues. Thor, sweaty and nauseous, on the other hand, is nearly physically forcing himself to keep his fingers from drumming on the table, his hands both gripping his thighs hard to keep his legs from moving. He can’t understand what anyone is talking about: farming land rights, maybe? He’s pretty sure somebody mentioned a goat.
“And what say you, Prince Thor?” one of the men Thor is pretty sure is older than the birth of the universe asks.
Thor takes a deep breath and tries to remember what they’d been talking about just moments before. “We could… let the people take a vote?” he suggests weakly.
“Vote?” one of them scoffs.
“Why would we let them vote?” another asks.
“Becaaaause…” He knows the answer to this, but he isn’t sure he can articulate it clearly to these people. “Because-“
“Because there are things the average citizens know more about than those of us who rule them,” Loki pipes up. Thor isn’t sure if he’s relieved or angry. “Farming and land allocation being one of those things. I think Thor’s idea is a fine one.”
Thor glances over in surprise but Loki doesn’t meet his gaze, just keeps looking straight ahead, back straight and looking far more regal than Thor ever will.
Just another way that Thor doesn’t measure up. If his little brother can do it, he should be able to as well. And yet.
His head throbs — standing upright seems an impossibility at the moment but he is forced to. He wishes he had something to tide him over, a glass of wine or so, but to be visibly drinking during a meeting would be — frowned upon does not seem strong enough. It would call into question his competence entirely and he is certainly not willing to experience Odin’s wrath behind closed doors for it.
Still, there should be time between this meeting and his next for him to pop into the wine cellar for something to smooth out the day’s rough edges. Maybe he can fill a flask with something he can carry for the day.
Just today, though. Just because something happened last night that made today as hard as it is. It’s not like he’s making a habit out of it.
“ Thor .”
He starts, realizing he hasn’t heard a word since Loki’s defense of him. “I’m sorry?” He curses himself for being so stupid. Odin and Loki are right: he’s nothing but an idiotic oaf.
A council member frowns at him. “Are you alright boy?”
“Yes, yes of course my lady. Pardon me, I was simply thinking of how to ask the people.”
No one speaks.
“About the — the vote…as we mentioned.”
Odin glares daggers into his head and Thor tries not to let it affect him.
“Are we still sure we want to do this?” Another courtier asks.
He goes on, but Thor blocks it out. Loki will remember what was said, he’s sure. Odin will remember. He can feel Odin’s eye on him, likely furious for daring to relinquish any of the crown’s power, even over something so mundane as goat farming.
Instead of letting any of their glares bother him, he thinks to the end of the meeting. The next obligation is overseeing a practice session for the new Einherjar recruits, which he is actually looking forward to. He’ll be able to sweat out his hangover and there will be enough time in between that and the petitioners to drop into the wine cellar for a cup or two and that should be enough to get him through the rest of the day.
He’s thinking through what his evening might look like - likely with his friends in the banquet hall or his own private dining room, just as every night. Then perhaps to the taverns, and tomorrow he’ll do it all over again.
“Thor?”
Oh, no. He’s lost again. “Forgive me,” he coughs, trying to decide what to say to cover his ignorance this time.
“Thor, are you certain you’re well?” Odin asks pointedly and Thor has a sinking feeling he knows now exactly how his evening is going to go.
He bows his head. “Aye, Father.”
“Perhaps you should skip training with the Einherjar if you are so exhausted you cannot sit and listen to others speak,” Odin says, pointedly.
He tries not to flinch.
“I’m sorry, Father. I will not disappoint you again.”
Odin gives him a look that could curdle milk. “Leave the lies to your brother.”
Thor understands that anything he says will be unacceptable, and keeps his mouth shut, looking down. Odin will move on for the moment, and won’t bring it up in public anyway.
Slowly, eventually, the council meeting ends and everyone leaves.
Except Thor.
Odin had looked at him, that specific glimmer of rage in his eye and that signal that told him to stay here and don’t you dare move . Thor had not dared. It would have been worse if he had, he knew.
Uncharacteristically, Loki waits for him, but soon understands that Odin wants to speak to Thor alone, and soon leaves with a faint anxiety in his eyes. Although Thor doubts it is for him. After all, Loki probably believes it is to do with a matter of state — what else should a private meeting between king and heir be? It certainly should not be a private dressing down, a chance for Odin to scream at him for all he has done wrong, even if that is what it is, in truth.
Unfortunately, as soon as the room clears, Odin turns his steely gaze onto Thor. This face of his father’s is the worst — it makes him feel as if he is dirt underneath his father’s feet. Even if that’s how he deserves to feel.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Odin asks, and Thor knows nothing he says will be accepted. He can’t tell his father about any of the feelings he has, not if he wants to keep himself unscathed. A prince does not show weakness.
He swallows heavily and tries to meet Odin’s eye. “I have no excuse, Father, I’m deeply sorry.” He is. He always is. Odin makes sure of it.
“Each time you prove yourself to be an empty-headed dullard, you bring shame upon this realm.” Not even shame upon the family. Shame upon the whole of Asgard. Thor wants desperately to ask if Odin intends to spread the word that the people should feel ashamed of their crown prince, but he already knows he’s about to get some kind of beating - he hardly wants to make it worse.
“I know, Father.”
“ Do you now ?”
Thor keeps his mouth firmly shut and his eyes trained on the floor.
“You are fit for nothing .” Odin spits. “A worthless little shit — do you enjoy this? Enjoy ruining our realm’s reputation?”
“No, Father.”
He is trembling, he can tell, but he doesn’t know how to stop. It’s coming soon, he can feel it.
There’s silence for a moment.
Stillness.
Then Odin stands up and grabs Thor by the hair, yanking it painfully and throws him to the ground, where he lands in an ungainly heap. He stays put, if he moves then his father might take it as a sign of argument. Of resistance.
There’s a clink of metal. Thor keeps his eyes shut. He knows what’s coming and if he keeps his eyes closed, maybe he can stop the tears.
He fails.
When Odin is finished with him, he barks out an order to get going. His father leaves him on the floor, there in the council room, his back stinging, his head aching, and worst of all, feeling worse than nothing.
Thor needs a goddamn drink.
—————————————
Loki is tempted to wait outside Odin’s chambers for Thor to emerge, but he’s not really interested in getting involved in whatever unpleasant conversation is happening in there.
He’s trying to figure out what it was he’d just seen. Thor had seemed a million miles away at times, but that wasn’t surprising nor unexpected. What had been an unexpected surprise was the disdain with which Thor had been treated by everyone in the room, including Odin himself. Even after Thor had presented a genuinely decent idea for once! This can’t be how it is every time, can it? No, certainly not.
The petitioners are next on Thor’s schedule and Loki wonders if Odin will even allow his brother to be there. He wonders if that might be better.
It had puzzled and bothered him the entire time, and he feels compelled to offer Thor some commiseration and support. But not right outside Odin’s doors.
Well, never mind. The first step is to find Thor. He decides to wait in the wide atrium that Thor will have to pass through to get to any other part of the palace or grounds, and sends a few projections to keep an eye out if his brother ends up somewhere unexpected.
And somewhere unexpected - or perhaps not - is where Thor ends up. One of his projections shows him that Thor is moving — not towards the atrium, but towards the stairway going down to the dungeons, the treasure vault, and… the wine cellar. Loki pinches the bridge of his nose and considers his options.
He could just let Thor make a drunken fool of himself. Thor is an adult, whatever decisions he makes are his own. If he wants to be an idiot, then it's certainly not Loki's fault.
But he won’t.
Let no one say Loki isn't a good brother.
He decides to follow his projection’s directions, knowing he won’t be able to head Thor off, but hoping he’ll be able to catch up quick enough to keep Thor from doing something extra stupid.
He walks quickly, with purpose, schooling his expression into something that would deter anyone from approaching him as he makes his way down to the cellar. Thor had left the huge oaken door open; if he’d been trying to be clandestine, he’d failed.
Loki enters, looking around the huge, cave-like cellar with its racks and racks of wine, the huge kegs and barrels, the bottles of spirits. He makes his way to the back, where he knows Thor and his friends have a little sitting area. Sure enough, there’s Thor, sitting cross-legged on an armchair built for a giant that dwarfs him, a bottle tilted against his lips, the contents quickly emptying down his throat.
Loki feels… sad.
He doesn’t even know how to approach him, much less stop it. Loki purses his lips, standing behind a rack, looking out at his brother. Very soon, Thor finishes it, and, unlike when he’s drinking with friends, gently places it down and cups his face in his hands.
He’s different, this Thor. Loki has never seen him drink alone, but it’s not a spectacle the way it is when he’s with other people. No smashing of tankards, no raucous laughter. No joy in it. Just an eerie sense of misery and melancholia.
“Thor,” he broaches gently, stepping out from behind the wall. “What — what are you doing?”
His brother startles, almost leaping off the chair, face all panicked before relaxing into a nervous smile.
“Nothing, nothing at all brother. In fact, I was just here to pick wine for Father’s lunch, as he asked.”
He’s so transparently lying that Loki almost laughs.
“For Father?”
“Mhm,” Thor hums. “In fact, I should get going. I mustn’t be late—”
“—Brother, come on . Surely you don’t think that I believe—”
“—I will take your leave now!” Thor says quickly. He tries to hustle around Loki, but Loki is faster. He steps on the hem of Thor’s cape and his brother face-plants onto the floor. “What-?!” He rolls onto his back, tangling himself in the cape a little pathetically. “Loki!”
Loki frowns down at Thor. “Don’t you know better than to lie to me?” he asks. “You’re absolutely transparent. Do you think I didn’t see you empty that figgy port down your gullet just now?”
Thor has the good grace to flush in the dim light. “I was - just, I needed to -“ He trips over his words trying to figure out what to say to appease Loki, and Loki doesn’t have the heart to tell him those appeasing words simply do not exist. “Just let me go, Loki, I need to meet with the nobility…”
Loki scoffs. “Now? After an entire bottle of port in the middle of the day? Honestly , Thor, you have done some truly idiotic things in your life, but this is probably-“
“ Shut. Up,” Thor hisses, struggling to free himself from the red fabric cocooning him, to no avail.
“What is it?” Loki asks, deciding the best way to get Thor to talk to him is to goad him a little bit. Also, his day is shot anyway he may as well poke at his brother in retaliation. “Need some liquid courage to face all of that constant criticism?”
Thor looks up at him with barely concealed rage, eyes gone dark — he stops struggling for a second and just glares.
“Why are you here ?” He demands. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to know why you’re being an fool! I want to know why you’ve decided to give up on being a good prince and decided to make the worst possible decisions!”
“Stop it!”
“I mean you’ve always been a fool but what possesses you to be an utter idiot?”
“You know what Loki, it’s not any of your business,” Thor spits at him. “So why don’t you just fuck off !”
Loki almost takes a step back at that.
He’s absolutely stunned. Thor’s not one to swear, certainly not in public— it’s unseemly for a prince to use such language.
And to him! Loki, his own brother. Thor has never said that to him, not ever, not even when Loki’s being at his most needling and Thor’s patience is completely gone. Never.
“I—”
Thor looks a bit contrite but says nothing as he manages to extricate himself from his cape. “My business is my own, and you would do well to remember your place , brother.” His tone is pure bile and Loki feels as though he’s been punched in the chest.
He strides forward and grabs the front of Thor’s armor, lifting him up even as he’s getting himself to his feet. “My place ,” he snarls, “is to clean up your messes, and you have been making them everywhere lately.”
Thor stands and smoothes his hair, readjusts his cape and armor. He could almost fool Loki into thinking he is well. That he’s ready to face his next responsibility. “Well feel free to stop,” Thor replies. “I’m fine on my own.”
“Well perhaps I will!”
“Why don’t you!” Thor says, brushing past him.
“You arrogant ass!” Loki yells as he walks towards the door. This is what Loki gets for caring about Thor. Bitterness and ungrateful words.
Well, if Thor doesn’t need him, he certainly doesn’t need Thor. He can just go back to his original plan, where he wasn’t busy helping.
And in a fit of rage, he sends a spell towards his brother, tripping him so that he stumbles and falls flat on his back, before teleporting himself out of the cellar to his room.
—————————————
Thor’s anger only gets more potent as he storms up from the cellar back to the throne room. How dare Loki! How dare his brother try to suggest that Thor is doing any of this on purpose ! At least no one but his slimy sibling had seen his gracelessness. It hardly helps him feel better, and the pleasant, happy, calm buzz he’d managed to achieve is now percolating into something dark and terrible. It grows worse with each step, as he fixates on Loki’s words and the alcohol begins to really wreck havoc on his brain cells.
By the time he reaches the throne room, he’s fuming. Angry at Loki, for seeing and pointing out his shame. Angry at Odin, for making his insides twist with terror every time he thinks about another punishment - or even another cruel word. Angry mostly at himself, for being too stupid to not need to gird himself with spirits in order to endure yet another session of torment in the form of being asked questions he doesn’t know the answers to.
He’s sure his expression betrays his dissatisfaction as he takes his seat beside Odin, because a low murmur runs through the small crowd.
Technically, Thor is supposed to be running this meeting, as practice for when he will be expected to provide a king’s wisdom over the minor concerns of the nobility. Thor truly can’t imagine anything more pointless or tedious.
“And now we can finally begin,” Odin says, narrowing his eye at Thor.
Thor suddenly wishes he had rinsed his mouth out so he doesn’t smell of port. Too late for that. “Loki held me up,” he says. It’s not entirely a lie. He doesn’t want to sentence Loki to punishment, but he certainly can’t take any more himself today.
Odin hums in response and Thor wants to point out that he isn’t even late . Just because he wasn’t fifteen minutes early it doesn’t mean he’s lazy or whatever mean adjective his father has for him now.
“Alright,” Thor says, looking out over the assembled nobles. Right now he hates each and every one of them for having such petty, meaningless squabbles with one another. “Who wants to go first?”
There’s a small shoving match as a couple of men approach the dais. “Your Highness,” one of them says, “We wish your decree in the matter of the marriage of my third daughter to Olaf’s first son. Olaf is claiming the dowry isn’t large enough to atone for the fact she is not very enchanting of face, but I argue that her personality is worth all the gold in Asgard. You have met my daughter, Your Grace? Hilde?”
The port finally catches up with him.
He laughs. He laughs hard . Because Hilde Ericsdottir does indeed have a lovely personality but a rather unfortunate visage. “So this is what you think is worthy of your king’s time?” he blurts out. “You are adults, as are Hilde and your son. In fact, I would assume the women of Asgard would prefer not to be traded like livestock.” And since he’s already going to get the crap beaten out of him anyway, he goes on to say, “I hereby outlaw the exchange of dowries for marriage consideration. Marriage is henceforth for love only!”
The surprised silence echoes through the huge room. Thor can feel every eye on him, and he grins at them. “ What ?!” he asks. “Don’t tell me none of you have ever been in love!” Thor himself falls in love three, sometimes four times a week.
Nobody says a word. He looks at each of them, and they all have the same look of horrified shock on their faces. Good. Odin himself is keeping himself in check but Thor can see the vein on his father’s temple throbbing and he knows he’s going to probably be confined to bed tomorrow for how badly he’s going to be punished for this.
“My son jests, of course,” Odin finally says, a false smile on his face. “Dowries are not outlawed. However, he is correct in one thing — this matter is not one worthy of a King’s audience. Resolve it amongst yourselves.”
The men bow and though they look disappointed, they leave. Odin’s false smile appears pasted on his face as he calls upon the next person, a man who is angry at another for some reason or another. All of these men - no women, Thor notices - are just mad at one another for absolutely ridiculous reasons and each of them wants the king’s favor. Odin doesn’t let him rule on any of the other petitions, doesn’t even let him speak. Thor clenches his fists on top of his thighs and chews the inside of his cheek to keep himself still and focused.
It doesn’t stop the fear of what Odin will do once they’re alone from creeping into his guts, combining with the alcohol to make him queasy and dizzy. He wonders if he could just get up and leave.
No, of course not. That would be truly idiotic and Thor may be an idiot, but not that big of an idiot. He’ll just have to… well, maybe his brain will do him a favor and let the fog roll in while Odin does whatever he’s going to do.
Maybe he’ll pass out, and Frigga will be too concerned about him for a few days to let Odin punish him. Honestly, it’s sounding better and better at the moment.
The petitioners slowly file out, one by one, until the throne room is empty, save for the few Einharjar who guard them. Thor does not dare look at his father, who sits like a marble statue and stares ahead.
“What do you have next on your schedule,” Odin says, tone far too polished for how Thor knows he’s truly feeling.
“Training with the Einharjar,” he replies, just as casual. “And then I’m to go to the western farmlands.”
“Don’t bother with the Einharjar today,” says Odin. “Finish with the farmlands and then meet me in my study. We shall need to discuss some…matters.”
“Yes, Father,” Thor says, still not looking at him, and leaves the room as fast as he dares — slow enough that no one thinks he’s fleeing, even if that’s what he’s doing.
He steels himself. Bringing rain won’t be too difficult, but maybe he can stay there for a little longer than needed.
It’s days like these that he wishes he could sink into the ground and disappear. It’s better than what’s to come.
—————————————
There’s a storm brewing over the western farmlands. Dark clouds roll low over the fields, thunder rolls almost continuously, lightning dancing among the clouds. And it rains.
And it rains.
And it rains.
From his bedroom terrace, where it is still warm and sunny, Loki watches the storm cell with a frown on his face. It’s far too much rain for what needed to be done there, the crops are going to drown.
He considers going out there, transporting himself through magic to surprise his brother enough to release his hold on the weather and spare those poor farmers his attempts to help. But no, he’s still piqued about his encounter with Thor in the cellar and he has no desire to put himself in that position again, at least not twice in the same day.
So instead he simply watches as the storm circles the farmland for another half an hour, then dissipates into mist that rises into the mountains. Well. That was quite the tantrum. If Odin wasn’t going to give Thor a tongue lashing before, he surely will now.
He decides to meet Thor in the atrium again - or try to. Again he casts his doubles, again he waits for his brother to pass through. This time, pass through he does, soaking wet, his boots squelching on the marble floor. It’s unpleasant. He looks bedraggled and tired and Loki almost feels bad for him.
“What glorious chaos are you off to cause the All-Father now?” Loki asks, snidely.
Thor looks at him with an almost devastated expression before he schools his face into a blank slate. He looks like he’s about to say something — and then shakes his head and walks past him.
“Thor—”
His brother keeps walking, not even bothering to react and Loki thinks about letting him go.
But he’s a little too curious about what’s going on with Thor to stop.
“Oh come on, are you really going to ignore me? I just want to know what’s got your mood so… interesting .”
Thor stops again, reaching out a hand to touch the wall, and in an uncharacteristic gesture, presses it flat. He hunches into himself a little bit, lowering his head.
“Brother?”
“I’m fine,” Thor rasps. “Excuse me please, I’m late for a meeting with the Allfather.”
“Why don’t I join you then?”
“I’m sure he’ll just dismiss you.”
“We can’t know until we try,” Loki prods, now extremely curious about what Thor is so desperately trying to hide.
Thor huffs. “Fine, whatever,” he sighs as if deciding not to waste any more time arguing. A wise move, if Loki says so. And so, he follows Thor up to Odin’s private study, jogging a little to keep up with Thor’s long strides.
The door swings open as they approach and Loki walks in behind Thor, looking up at the All-Father to gauge what kind of unpleasant meeting this might be. Odin’s face, like Thor’s, is a mask of indifference. “Loki,” Odin says, “go attend your mother.”
It’s a dismissal, of course. And a somewhat insulting one at that. But it’s not one that can be argued, not with Odin taking that particular tone. He nods and spins on his heel to leave the oppressiveness of the energy in that room.
He returns to his own chambers; who knows how long Odin will keep Thor, and Loki is determined to get something out of the day besides annoyance at his brother.
He spends several hours experimenting with some of the newer magic he’s been practicing: world-walking, shadow-hopping, things no one should be able to do, but Loki can. His illusionary shadows can hold solid objects, now, and he uses them to play a game of catch-the/chalice over his head from wall to wall.
His concentration is broken, however, by the sound of something thumping, hard, onto the floor in the expansive bathing chamber that joins his chambers to Thor’s. He sighs and rolls his eyes. He and Odin probably screamed at each other then shared a bottle of spirits and Thor has just arrived back.
But he doesn’t hear Thor trying to stand up.
Loki ignores it for a little bit, thinking that Thor is probably doing a repeat of yesterday’s performance of “prince on the ground”, but he’s in the palace after all, so it’s not like he can get into more trouble. It’s not until several minutes later that something seems to strike him as wrong.
Thor still hasn’t picked himself up. He hasn’t left the bathroom. There’s no sounds of a bath running or of Thor moving at all.
He ponders his options.
On one hand, Thor is certain to be in a foul mood after the way father would have probably treated him during their chat. He’s likely to yell, scream, maybe even swear at Loki again, and he’s really not in the mood for that.
On the other hand…an opportunity to make fun of Thor.
And to be a good brother, of course, but Loki doesn’t give that as much weight after the day he’s had.
He knocks at his door to their combined bathroom, and waits a moment before trying the handle, which is surprisingly unlocked.
Their policy is usually that bathroom time is their own time, unless they want company. The door is usually locked — both of them tend to prefer to spend time elsewhere, usually in their shared living room.
Yet the handle turns today.
Loki enters and inhales sharply at the sight. There’s Thor, on the ground, curled up in a little ball. He’s groaning, head tucked into his chest, and he looks so pitiful that Loki immediately forgets the main reason he came in here.
“Get up you oaf,” he chides, no heat to the words, and kneels down. His hands come to rest on Thor’s back and in an instant, he pulls them up in shock.
They’re wet, but worse than that, they’re red.
Bloody.
“Thor!” Loki shouts, panicking. “Thor, brother, what have you done?”
Thor moans and coughs, bloody phlegm spattering onto the floor and across the golden fixtures. “M’okay,” he pants, “it’s… I’m…”
He’s saying he’s fine ? What in the nine… “Come here,” he urges, trying to get Thor to uncurl from the ball he’s in so he can take stock of the damage and hopefully figure out how Thor managed to do so much damage to himself between now and the last time Loki had seen him.
Thor’s tunic is caked to his back in blood, and his hair besides. Loki slowly eases it off, trying not to respond too noticeably to the noises Thor is making. He can’t suppress his gasp when he finally sees Thor’s back.
It’s criss-crossed with lash marks. And not just any lash marks. These bear the shadow of powerful magic, to make them hurt and make them last . Thor’s natural healing won’t help him with these. And they are truly brutal: one stop the other until the skin had ulcerated and split. Blood and lymph stains his back and Loki finds the marks all the way down Thor’s back to his feet.
“Who did this to you?” he breathes.
“I’s fine,” Thor slurs. “Give’t a day.”
“It is not fine at all! Tell me who did this to you!”
Thor only whimpers in response, trying to curl up again, and Loki hisses at how the wounds stretch.
“Come, to the healing halls at once—”
“M’not allowed.”
“What, no come on!”
“He said no — y’know how he is.”
“Who, brother,” he pleads. “Who dares touch you?”
Thor grimaces. Tears leak from his eyes and Loki is stunned — princes aren’t to cry and Thor certainly hasn’t since they’ve been breached.
“Brother,” Loki pleads again. His hands pull Thor up to lean on his side against Loki’s chest, and he cups his face. To his immense displeasure, his bloody hand stains Thor’s face, leaving the impression that he’s been wounded there as well.
“Don’t mock me, you know who,” he says weakly. “It’s not as if I didn’t deserve it, I suppose.”
Loki simply has no words.
“I hope Father’s satisfied. I cannot — I cannot do this again today.”
“Again.” Loki whispers. “ Again ?”
“He’d gotten upset about the council meeting this morning and lashed me but I thought that was the end of it. But then I couldn’t — I couldn’t stop it. It’s too hard — the rain — the seidr just wouldn’t stop .”
“He—” Loki cut off with a sob. “Father?”
“Who else ,” Thor bites out, his fingers flexing on the floor, leaving streaks through the blood. “I’m trying so hard!” He cuts off a sob and covers his head with his hands.
Loki feels the breath leave him, and he kneels there beside his brother feeling like his entire world is crashing down around him. Odin had done this. Their father had done this. He’s long known Odin to be cruel, but this is a level Loki truly had not anticipated. “Thor… Mother, you need to tell Mother!”
“Tell her what?”
“That he’s done this to you!”
“He’ll probably tell her tonight, I guess. S’what he usually does.”
Loki stares at his brother in horrified realization. “No… she couldn’t…” Surely Frigga couldn’t know of this. She never would allow it!
Thor shakes his head. “It’s for my own good.” He sounds so… broken . So far removed from his confident, arrogant brother. How couldn’t he have seen this?
“How long has this been going on?” Surely Thor hasn’t been hiding this from everyone for long. No, his brother is no good at subterfuge. There’s no way he could have kept this from Loki. No. It’s not possible.
Thor takes a shaky breath. “Forever,” he says. “Same as you, after all.”
Same as - ? “Thor, what are you talking about?” Odin might make unkind remarks to him, but mostly the All-Father ignores his second son. Never has Loki had a hand raised to him, and the idea is unthinkable.
“You mean he doesn’t -“ Thor looks up at him, tears running down his cheeks, his blue eyes tormented . “It’s just me ?” He rolls into a sitting position and shakes his head, working hard to get to his feet.
“What are you doing?!” Loki exclaims, rising as well, hands out to catch Thor if he topples again.
Thor chuckles humorlessly. “I need a drink.”
“What, no!”
He stumbles but still manages to keep standing. “What else am I to do?” asks Thor.
“But — you can’t just — Thor please, let me take you to the healers, you can’t just stay like this!”
“I can’t. Father says the lesson won’t sink in otherwise.”
“Well Father can go fuck himself, I don’t care!” Loki’s surprised by the viciousness of his own words but knows it to be true. His brother, the closest to Loki’s heart, stands in front of him grievously injured. What power does the Allfather have compared to Loki’s love for his brother.
Thor looks at him surprised. “You cannot say that. It is the Allfather’s justice. It is Father’s will.”
“His will is wrong !” Loki exclaims, gripping Thor’s upper arms as tight as he dares. “Thor, this is wrong !”
Thor shakes his head miserably, not raising his head to meet Loki’s gaze. “It’s the only way I’ll learn,” he murmurs. “Please let me go.”
“No,” Loki says firmly. “No. If we can’t go to the healers, I’ll take care of you here.” He has the basic knowledge, at least. Enough to ease the pain and unravel the magic within Thor’s wounds.
Thor tries to pull away. “I just need a drink and some rest,” he tries to insist. “That’s always worked before.”
Ah. So his brother has been getting beaten bloody by their father and then drinks himself unconscious to avoid dealing with it. Loki has never seen his brother look so incredibly beaten down. He doesn’t like it at all. “Get on the bed,” he orders instead of responding.
Thor stiffens. “I’m fine, it’s fine.”
Loki gapes at him.
Genuinely, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t understand this, doesn’t even understand Thor anymore. Loki doesn’t know his brother, he can’t possibly claim that after this!
“Is that why you drank yourself to unconsciousness yesterday?”
Thor doesn’t respond, simply looking down. He stumbles once more and Loki decides for them. He clamps his hand onto him and teleports them out, back into his bedroom.
“I—”
Before he can finish his sentence, Loki pushes him onto his bed, face first, tired of arguing while Thor is clearly in pain.
“Don’t. I’m going to have to disenchant it before I put on a poultice.”
“I’m not supposed to—”
“All you’re supposed to do is shut up and let me take care of you. Norns, Thor, you’re still manly if you let me fix your back!”
“That’s not…it’s not because of that.”
“Then why,” Loki asks, turning to look him in the eye. He cannot understand why Thor would do such a thing, why he would refuse help unless he was trying to prove something to himself.
Perhaps he felt like Odin punishing him had taken away his agency or his masculinity. Either way, Loki thinks it’s ridiculous.
“I just,” Thor cuts off. “I don’t want you to…to get hurt.”
“Why would I?”
“I just don’t want Father to punish you too,” Thor mumbles, then turns his head into his pillow.
Loki’s heart breaks for a second time. “Thor,” he says, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Any punishment I get for this is worth it. This is wrong, Thor. He shouldn’t be doing it to you. If he beats me for helping you, so be it.” Besides, he doubts Odin would even really notice if Loki provided his brother with a bit of relief. Better than the other option of Thor poisoning himself with mead to cope. “Now shut up, I have to concentrate.”
The threads of magic are strong and resistant to unraveling. Loki slips his own seidr in the tiny gaps between threads, twisting just so , tugging and pulling until he’s able to draw out the dark magic from Thor’s body. Its hard work, and it makes him sick to his stomach that their own parents would do this. To Thor of all people. Thor, who always is just trying to please everyone at all times. Whose only attempts to please himself are the drinking binges that also serve to dampen the pain and misery.
He leaves Thor for a moment and fetches the poultice, slathering it thickly on Thor’s back, trying to be gentle, but little whimpers keep escaping from Thor’s mouth and the muscles in his back keep spasming. “It’s okay,” he soothes as he wraps his brother in soft bandages to hold in the remedy and protect the wounds from the air. “There we go. All done.”
“Can I have that drink now?”
Loki frowns at him.
“What?” Thor asks.
“You want to drink? Now?”
“What else am I to do this evening then? I’m not fun unless I’m drinking.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
Thor looks contrite. “It helps,” he says.
“Really? Wasn’t getting drunk the thing that Odin got mad at you about.”
“Yes but I was hungover and the alcohol helped that.”
“You wouldn’t have had a hangover if you hadn’t gotten so drunk in the first place!” Loki exclaims in frustration. He knows Thor knows better! “You’re not helping yourself if that’s what you think is going to make anything better!”
“See?” Thor replies forlornly. “I deserve everything he does and more. I’ll never be good enough. I’m trying , Loki.” His voice has taken on a bit of a desperate whine. “Brother, please , this will be the last time, I promise .”
Loki shakes his head. “Thor, I can’t—”
“Then I’ll go to my own room and do it by myself!” Unexpected anger, and Loki takes a step backwards as Thor stands abruptly. “It’s been a long day. I would have thought you would understand but you don’t .”
“Thor, wait—”
“No, I can’t wait. I just…I can’t! Please, just…thank you for your help but you’re making it worse.”
“I’m not making it worse!” Loki protests but Thor sweeps past him and he’s left with the horrible feeling of dread.
—————————————
For one brief, beautiful moment Thor had thought everything would be okay. Loki finally knew the truth, and everything would be okay. Thor wasn’t sure how Loki would manage to fix everything, but he knew it had to be so. Loki was clever. Loki would help.
But instead Loki had purposely misunderstood him, had maliciously tried to imply Thor was at fault! Or maybe he hadn’t. It’s all fading together into the fog and Thor just wants it all to stop.
He just wants it all to stop.
The alcohol helps.
He knows if Loki were here he would be making noises about think about how you’ll feel tomorrow , or don’t be an idiot . Thor makes his way to his expansive liquor cabinet and pulls down a bottle of a potent elfin spirit. That will be fine to start.
He doesn’t intend to have a tomorrow. He doesn’t intend to ever hear anyone call him an idiot again. He’s a little sad he won’t make it to Valhalla this way, but maybe that’s for the best. He doesn’t belong in Valhalla.
He doesn’t belong in Asgard.
He doesn’t belong anywhere.
Thor uncorks the bottle and starts to drink.
He’s never actually tried this particular bottle; it had been a gift from some ambassador or another. Most of the bottles in the cabinet are, in fact. He hopes the givers will appreciate knowing their gifts were well used.
The bite of it surprises him, but he manages to swallow through it. It’s definitely not meant to be imbibed this way. He doesn’t care. None of it matters, these are the last drinks he’ll ever have, he can drink them however he wants.
He comes up for air, coughing, and goes back as soon as he’s caught his breath. It takes about three full minutes to swallow it all down and he grabs the next on the shelf before this one even has a chance to settle in.
It feels good to know he won’t have to worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow. It’s a relief. All he has to worry about is now .
He grabs another bottle from random and wrenches the cork off — its another ambassador liquor — this time from Vanaheim — and glugs it down. It’s bitter, almost horribly so, but he valiantly swallows until he can’t anymore. Liquor dribbles down his chin but he takes no notice of it. None of that’s going to matter soon. He can feel the room warming, getting fuzzy around the edges. He grabs the unfinished Vanaheim whatever-it-is and another bottle he can’t read the label of and shuffles over to the chaise in front of his fireplace. This seems like a comfortable spot.
The first time he throws up he tries not to get it all over himself, but after that he doesn’t bother. It’s too much effort. It’s hard enough to raise the new bottle to his lips. For a brief moment, he panics. For a brief moment he wants to undo what he’s already done. It’s too much . He pushes himself off the chaise and lands hard on his elbows, moaning.
He can’t do much besides roll back and forth on his bearskin rug for a while. He can’t stand anymore, his vision too blurred to really call it seeing . He hasn’t tried to speak but he’s not sure he could even remember how, let alone do it clearly. But he’s still awake , he’s still alive , so he has to keep going.
He has to keep going.
————————————————-
Loki gives his brother some time.
After he’d rushed away, he was too upset to go directly after him, not wanting to scare his brother off. The fact that his brother has been numbing his brain with alcohol not because he’s an idiotic oaf, but because he’s in great pain is something that’s taking Loki a while to comprehend.
Perhaps comprehend is the wrong word to use. He understands where such an impulse comes from. What is taking him some time is the fact that Thor is doing it.
Maybe it’s a bit selfish of him but Loki has always believed his brother to be…different from the others. Almost greater in some nebulous way.
I mean it’s not hard to know why. Thor’s always been pointed to as the example. And although Loki calls him a million different names that all mean idiot, there’s still some part of him that believes that Thor is…well Thor is his big brother. There’s nothing that could affect Thor. Thor isn’t like Loki. Thor has no problems. He’s the perfect example.
Clearly he’s wrong.
It’s a concept Loki truly has trouble wrapping his head around. His assumption has always been that Odin had nothing but praise and sometimes a harsh corrective word for his golden son. And Thor has always borne everything with, if not grace, then at least a smile on his face. He’s never let on, not until he couldn’t wear the mask anymore.
But ultimately, his brother is suffering. Loki surely doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Thor to hurt so badly he feels the need to drown himself in liquor every night. He doesn’t want to know Odin beats Thor bloody every day. He wants to go back to his previous blissful ignorance, wants to go back to thinking Thor is infallible. It’s easier that way. This is… complicated. And painful.
Once he feels like he himself has calmed sufficiently, he makes his way into Thor’s chambers. “Brother?” he calls out. “Thor?”
There’s no movement in Thor’s small receiving room, no sound but the crackling of the fireplace in his bedroom. “Thor?” He feels a creeping dread crawl up his spine as he walks towards the bedroom, the heavy velvet canopy on the bed blowing gently in the breeze coming in through the open balcony door. No Thor.
Loki is struck with the sudden fear that Thor has thrown himself from the balcony and runs over, looking down into the courtyard far, far below. Nothing. He’s not there.
But then, there’s a noise behind him, gurgling and wet. He whirls, eyes widening in horror as he finally finds his brother.
Thor is sprawled propped up against the side of the settee, puking down the front of himself, his eyes opening briefly then closing again as his head lolls to the side. “Thor!” Loki feels a fear he hopes never to feel again as he slowly registers what is happening. Uncaring of the mess on the floor, he slams down onto his knees beside Thor, grabbing his cheeks with both hands and turning his head towards him. “Thor! Can you hear me?”
Thor’s lips, tinged blue, twitch into a small smile. He says something Loki can’t make out and sags in Loki’s hands. “Thor, no, you have to stay awake!” He should call for the healers. For Mother. For someone . With a sinking sense of defeat, he realizes there’s no longer anyone he trusts to help or protect his big brother. It will have to be him.
“Keep talking to me, brother,” Loki instructs, finally spurred to action. He wraps Thor’s arm over his shoulders and stands them both up. Thor moans and spasms, trying to pull away. “No, no!” They both go sprawling and Loki once again gets them to their feet.
By the time he gets to the bathroom, Thor is completely unresponsive. He blinks occasionally, every so often tries to say something, and he’s breathing. Those are currently Loki’s only consolations. He’ll have to draw the poison out, that’s all.
He’s never done that before. He’s read about it, has practiced a little on animals, but he’s never tried it on another Aesir. He’s never had to do anything like this on his brother . He angrily rubs the horrified tears out of his eyes. “Open your eyes, Thor,” he orders, tapping Thor’s cheek. “Come on, just a little bit.”
Thor’s long eyelashes flutter against his flushed cheeks.
“Good. That’s good.” Okay. He just needs to stay calm. He just needs to make sure Thor stays breathing. If he stops, then he’ll resort to magic. He’s afraid Thor will equate any magic used on him with their parents, of how badly it will distress him especially if he’s not fully aware of what’s happening. They can get through this. Of course they can. And then he’ll find a way to get them both out of here.
He absolutely refuses to let his brother live here for another minute.
He’s not sure where they’ll go, but he’ll take them far away from Asgard, somewhere they can both be safe. But first, he has to make sure Thor doesn’t die.
It’s not easy. Thor only responds if Loki pinches him, and then only to try flailing his limbs and blinking his eyes. But it’s still a response. He’s still breathing.
Hours pass. Every few minutes Loki will nudge Thor and ask him to say something. Each time Thor has responded with acknowledging grunt, but this time Loki hears, “Whadda shid’s… ffffuuuugggk.”
He never thought he would be grateful to hear Thor slurring nonsense at him. He grabs his brother’s shoulders to keep him from continuing to try and stand as he’s currently doing. Loki isn’t about to undo all of his good work letting Thor split his head open on the marble floor. “Hey, look at me,” he demands. “Thor.”
“Didjou d’it?…” Thor asks, blinking, working hard to keep his head from dropping back to his chest. “S’wha…”
“Okay, good, you’re doing good.”
Thor clumsily pushes Loki off him and swings one arm out to press against the floor, the other swinging behind him to press against the wall, and starts to work his feet under himself. “Godda… m’lade… S’gonna… fffuuuckkk…” He seems to realize standing is not in his immediate future because he slumps back down.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Loki assures him, summoning a glass of water with a flash of green and tilting it against Thor’s lips. “Come on,” he coaxes, “if you can stomach that Vanaheim swill you can take a couple sips of water.”
Thor shifts a bit, but eventually drinks half the glass before slumping back against the wall.
Loki places a hand over his forehead — it’s burning hot but at least he’s alive. He applies a cooling force to it, icy energy emanating from his hand, and keeps it on Thor until he feels like he’s a normal temperature again.
“Thank the Norns,” Loki whispers. Thor is alive. He will be hale.
After he is certain Thor will not perish on the spot, Loki moves to clean him up, wiping his face and neck with a soft wet towel. His brother does not react much, only huffing faintly when Loki presses down lightly, but it’s enough that he’s still reacting. Soon, Loki feels confident enough to lift him to bed.
His bed, by the way. Not Thor’s.
Loki isn’t sure he’ll be able to face that room for a while after this. Not when even the thought of it brings him a deep sense of panic and unease.
He manhandles Thor to the bed, lifting him with a faint grunt and laying him down gently, crawling in beside him. Thor slowly drifts off, his breaths come evenly, but it is Loki who’s having the issue with sleeping. All he can do is hug his brother, press his forehead to him, and stay there, trying to be silent as wetness seeps down his face.
He swears it will be different soon. Loki refuses to let it be otherwise.