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Loki's Sniffles

Loki is miserable. His head is groggy, his nose is muffly and his eyes are stinging. It's all rather grim, to be honest.

He's been cooped up in bed for the past few days, with servants shovelling medicine - foul tasting medicine - down his sore throat and poking him and prodding him and asking if he's been feeling better. Which, of course, he hasn't.

It's evening now, and it's the fifth day of Loki's stinking cold, and he's just about fed up and ill to the point where his magic has deflated to almost nothing. He sits in his bed, propped up on a pillow, and watches through the open balcony as the world goes by.

"Brother!" comes a bubbly voice from across the room. Loki rolls his stuffy head around to see Thor come tumbling in, running over and bounding onto Loki's bed, sitting cross-legged by his feet. "Have you mended yet?"

"No," Loki grumbles, biting his lip and blowing his nose into a handkerchief. "This is rotten."

Thor's mouth falls in a slump. "Oh no!"

"Didn't Father say I'm not allowed any visitors lest I infect them?"

"Father said that I could come and visit you as long as you didn't sneeze all over me."

"Oh darn, that's my plans foiled," Loki drawls. Thor chuckles, and rests his head in his hands.

"It's been terribly boring without you. I have no one to play with. Only the servants but they're always too busy."

"Surely I don't make things particularly fun when I'm around," the sickly ten year old mumbles, leaning back further into his pillow and closing his eyes.

"What are you talking about? You're wonderful company." Loki peels open one eye and sees Thor grinning widely, playing with the tassles of Loki's blanket in his hands. Loki can't help but smile too, but his dry lips crack and he hisses as they split at the edges.

"Ouch."

Thor looks horrified. "You're bleeding!"

"What clarity you have in your observations, brother," Loki says with sarcasm, dabbing a tissue on the sore parts of his mouth. Thor is frowning heavily. Then his eyes light up.

"I almost forgot! I brought you something's, but you mustn't tell a soul."

"Your secret is safe with me," Loki chirps, suddenly excited about whatever Thor has to reveal. The blond boy roots around in his bag and produces an apple impaled on a stick, slicked with a thick coating of honey-syrup. Then Thor brings out a punnet of blackcurrants, and sets the pot between them. He hands Loki the apple, and Loki ogles at it in awe.

"How did you get this?" he asks in admiration and amazement. Thor shrugs, smirking proudly.

"You just have to make friends with the right kitchen servants. I know father said no sweet things until you're better, but with you and your sweet tooth, I bet you were positively dying in here - and not from the cold."

"You truly are the greatest brother in the entire world. Thank you!" Loki bites into the apple, and the syrup oozes down his throat, relieving the pain if only for a short while.

"I know," Thor agrees, throwing a few blackcurrants into his mouth. Then he slides off of the bed. "But it's very late and I have to be going to bed myself. I'll come and see you tomorrow."

"Try and get another apple!" Loki waves as his brother turns from just inside the doorway.

Thor beams. "You don't need to tell me twice, brother. Good night! Sweet dreams. Feel better, yes?"

"I shall try. Good night, Thor."

The door closes. Loki sinks down, relishing the taste of the apple.

He's lucky to have Thor. Very lucky indeed.