Author's Note: I wrote this because Sauron Gorthaur suggested in her review for my story "The New Year" that it would be interesting to see Loki intoxicated. So...I fear this wasn't quite what you had in mind, as I'm not very good at writing humor, but I tried.

Thor was usually the one that overindulged at feasts and in taverns after a battle. Alcohol made him even more exuberant, singing loudly and off-key, laughing at his own clumsiness. At the end of the night, Loki would always drag Thor back to his chambers, take his boots off for him if Thor was too drowsy, and tuck him safely into bed. He would grumble under his breath about always having to clean up Thor's messes.

The next morning, Loki would be ready with a potion for his hangover and a lecture.

Loki himself rarely drank. Being so much leaner than Thor, he had a pitifully low tolerance for alcohol; he would start slurring his usually-crisp speech after two glasses of mulled wine. But Thor suspected, too, that his uptight, secretive brother did not relish the idea of lowering the walls he had built so carefully around himself.

Thor had seen him inebriated only twice in their lifetime –and given how much Loki had embarrassed himself, it did not surprise Thor that his brother had avoided repetition at all costs.

The first time was at Thor's coming-of-age feast, so many centuries ago. Jealous of all the fuss being made over the crown prince, young Loki had decided to prove he was just as grown-up by drinking as much mead as Thor.

Thor had not noticed his brother disappear from the feast until the carousing started to die down in the early hours of the morning. Somewhat tipsy himself, he stumbled to Loki's bedchambers to ask him why he had left—only to hear retching sounds from inside.

Sure enough, Loki was kneeling in front of a chamber pot.

"I take it you had a few too many," Thor chuckled.

Loki glared at him. His complexion was green. Thor's humor at the situation faded, and he sat beside him on the floor, putting a hand on the back of Loki's neck to soothe him as he got sick again.

"Brother, how many did you have?" he asked, feeling somewhat alarmed now.

Loki simply shook his head, as if ashamed of the answer.

If Loki was allowed to lecture him on responsible drinking, then Thor would enjoy the opportunity for a role reversal.

"You must learn to stop when you have had enough," he chided him. "You are smaller and younger than I, Brother. You cannot handle as much, and it might kill you to try."

Loki's scowl was unexpectedly vicious. "Because I am weak and fainthearted, is that it? I should know my place and let the true warriors do all the—"

He broke off suddenly to retch into the chamber pot.

Thor tried not to be hurt by Loki's outburst—after all, Thor often felt ill-tempered himself when he was sick—but he was astonished and a little unsettled by the bitterness in his brother's voice.

But he put this out of his mind, because Loki needed him now. The stubborn younger prince did not like showing vulnerability now that they were adolescents, and truthfully, Thor missed the days when his little brother would run to him for comfort and safety.

As Thor rubbed circles into his back to calm him, Loki kept his head down to keep it from spinning.

"Never again," Loki groaned.

But it did happen again, a few years later.

The second time Loki became intoxicated was at a feast celebrating their first great victory: Thor, Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three had slain a dragon and freed a Vanir village from its wrath. The dragon's severed head lay at the end of the table as a trophy for their valiant deed.

As usual, Thor and his friends grew louder and more jovial as the celebration went on. Their story became more elaborate and embellished the more they told it, full of narrow escapes and daring offensives. Perhaps they did get carried away in their boasting, perhaps they did diminish Loki's part, how he used his magic to blind the beast so they could finish it off—but surely he could have spoken up for himself, joined in their storytelling. But no. Instead, as the evening wore on, Loki grew more and more invisible. Though he sat beside him, Thor forgot his brother was even there.

It was not until Thor left the high table, to tell his version of events to the next table over, that he noticed Loki had been drinking. The younger prince, swaying a little on his feet, marched over to the far side of the room and—much to Thor's surprise—greeted a lovely, fair-haired maiden that Thor recognized.

Loki had always been shy with girls. Thor knew he had been sweet on Lady Sigyn for decades, but had never made any advances for fear of rejection. But now, he was talking to her quite effusively, his usually-pale cheeks deeply flushed. As they watched him from across the Great Hall, Fandral, Volstagg, and Sif stifled laughter, and even Hogun fought a smile.

"What is he doing?" Thor asked. "What is so amusing, my friends?"

"That silver tongue of his has been loosened with mead," Hogun explained dryly.

"He is confessing his undying love for Lady Sigyn," Volstagg chuckled. "Quite eloquently too, given how long he's been talking to her."

Thor could not help it. The thought of his straight-laced, bookish little brother trying to win a maid's heart was priceless. He joined in their uproarious fit of laughter.

Wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, he asked, "Sif, was this at your behest?"

"I thought it was a fitting retribution for all the mischief he brings to others," Sif said smugly. She never had forgiven Loki for cutting off her hair when they were children, and was always seeking to repay his prank with humiliation. "Serves him right."

Thor was about to agree—but examining the scene more closely, he noticed how embarrassed Sigyn looked. She even seemed to be trying to cut him off, but was too gentle to really silence him. Then Thor looked to Sigyn's left, and realized why.

Loki was professing his feelings right in front of Theoric, her betrothed. It was as if, in his inebriated state, he did not notice the burly warrior beside her.

Immediately, Thor cleared a path through the crowd, but he did not reach Loki in time to prevent the black eye that Theoric gave him.

"Brother!" Thor caught Loki and hoisted him to his feet. He was still wobbly from the alcohol, so Thor kept an arm around his shoulders.

"That was rather unwise," Loki mumbled.

"Come on, Brother, you need to sleep it off," Thor said, half-carrying his brother away from the crowd that had gathered around, who were eager for a brawl to liven up the celebration. Thor allowed himself one glance back at Sigyn, who was biting her lip and watching Loki with obvious concern and guilt, perhaps more than was called for.

"You know, Brother," said Thor in a low voice as he took him upstairs, "if you had had a little courage five years ago, she may have accepted you."

Seeming to finally understand what a fool he had made of himself, Loki buried his face in Thor's shoulder as if to make himself disappear. To Thor's discomfort, his brother started to cry—a sight he had not been allowed to witness since they were children.

"Come now, Loki, it isn't that bad. You can hide the black eye with magic tomorrow, can't you?"

"That is beside the point." Loki's sobs were muffled in Thor's shoulder. "Everyone saw. I humiliated myself. I can never meet her eyes ever again. You wonder why I am called the Liesmith, Brother? How else do I protect myself? You have your armor, and—hic—I have mine."

Thor knew that Loki would never be so frank with him if his inhibitions had not been removed by the alcohol—it was as if his brother had taken a truth potion. As tempting a possibility that was, Thor knew it was wrong to take advantage of his vulnerable state.

But as they stumbled awkwardly up the stairs, Loki kept talking, and Sigyn no longer seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

"You must be so ashamed," he slurred, "to have such a useless little brother. I do everything wrong. I am everything wrong."

"Loki, stop that. Just…just keep walking so you can go to sleep."

"Crooked and scheming and—hic—cowardly…"

Thor had never heard his brother speak like this before, with such transparent despair in his voice—was he thinking like this all the time, and only now expressing it? After all, Loki was too drunk to tell a decent lie.

Finally, they reached Loki's room. Thor set him down and pulled the covers over him. As Thor stood up to leave, satisfied that he was safe, Loki murmured sleepily, "Thank you, Brother."

Thor could not remember the last time those words had passed his lips. If Loki's resentment and insecurity came from his heart of hearts, then at least this did too. Thor leaned down and kissed his brother's forehead. They had not been so openly affectionate since they were children, but it was comforting to know that it was pride, not indifference, that had changed them.

In the morning, they made an unspoken agreement to act as if none of that had ever happened.

Those times are long gone. Thor has taken the throne with a heavy heart, not because he is ready, but because his father is dying and needs to know that the realm is secure. Odin has allowed Thor to sentence Loki this time, after his deception on Svartalfheim was discovered. This time, Loki is silent as Thor pronounces that he will return to the dungeons until the king sees fit.

He knows what Loki is thinking. Why keep me alive? After all I have done, why do you not destroy me once and for all?

Thor has already grieved for his brother twice. He is too exhausted to do so again.

Loki is in solitary confinement, away from the other prisoners. His cell is bare save for a simple cot—no books or trinkets from Mother this time to make his punishment more bearable.

Thor does not know how to feel about him anymore. After watching his brother die again, his only comfort was believing that he had died honorably—that he would see his little brother again someday, that he was safe in Valhalla with Mother. Thor wishes his life were as simple as in the days before his banishment, but now his heart is always twisted and torn a million different directions. He is furious that Loki allowed him to go through all that again, still disbelieving of the bitter, shadowy creature his brother has become. And yet, when he had the guards examine Loki before tossing him into his cell, they found a deep scar in his chest where the monster's blade had pierced him, and Thor knew then that Loki's sacrifice had not entirely been a lie.

Somewhere, buried behind thick walls of anger and hostility, his brother's heart still beats. Thor knows it now.

So on this day, Thor visits his brother's cell. Both of them know why, what day it is, though neither of them say it aloud: the anniversary of Frigga's death. They sit on the floor opposite each other, not knowing what to say.

Thor clears his throat and pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses. Toasting the memory of the dead is an honored tradition in Asgard.

"Care to join me?" he says.

Loki accepts with a polite nod. After two glasses, he is crying.