Chapter 3: Teddy Bear

It was wrong to be so horrified. He was still his brother, he had never caused anything worse than a little chaos and – just no. He couldn't be one of those monsters. Why would his father raise a monster as his own, why would he even grant a monsteraccess to Asgard? Loki was not a monster – not like that. Thor remembered how he had often playfully called Loki a "little monster" and he gasped as he found that the words just grew a new, much more terrifying meaning. It had to be an illusion. And oh, how truly realLoki's illusions could look. He could easily make the floor look like it had been flooded or he could make a good apple start moulding at the slightest touch. But this... this was different. It wasn't a nightmare though – or he would have woken up and found he had thrown away his blanket at some point.
And even if it felt like a punch in Thor's very heart, it explained everything. It answered questions Thor hadn't even been asking because he had accepted it as a part of how things were but now... now he thought of his brother's pitch black hair, his lanky frame, his green eyes, his pale skin – and he knew why he had always seemed, always beenso different.
It was difficult to see, that the person who had slept in the same bedroom with you for years and years of happy childhood, the person who had gotten you in and out of trouble, the person you had been laughing and fighting and playing and training with, the person you had spent the majority of your days with, the person you had thought to be your relativenow wasn't – not really. But really or not, what did it matter? Thor could – he knew it now – he could never see Loki as anyone but his little brother. It seemed so odd, so strange, so wrongto think that he wasn't... Because whenever he saw Loki, his brain seemed to put a tag on him, saying "brother", he could almost read it, as he kept imagining Loki's face. This is my brother.

But what did it change, what did it do? Did it make Loki a different person? Did it explain his love for pranks and chaos? Did it make this passion a bad sign? Did it make him evil? Or could Thor still see that he wasn't evil, despite his origin, despite his natural form? He couldn't believe he had been fooled by a Frost Giant for so long, he couldn't believe his father had done this to him... and to Loki if he was to be believed that he only just found out himself.

It hadn't seemed like a lie though. And Loki's shiny eyes had only caused Thor to hug him and then he had felt helpless because obviously, Loki hadn't wanted to be touched but all Thor had wanted and all he could do was touch and comfort, for he had always been more of a physical type and he didn't know what to say to someone who seemed so close to an emotional breakdown even though Loki was the last person he would have expected a breakdown from. No, Thor shouldn't think his whole life had been a lie, just one of Loki's pranks... it was up to his brother to think that.
No, it didn't change anything.

It didn't.

He remembered a lightning and a hammer. And the hammer had been held high over his head and the lightnings had been flashing around his head like a pounding tiara. Thor had regained his powers by merely twisting his words and vows. While he had promised to hunt the monsters of Jotunheim when he had been banished and turned into a helpless human, he had now sworn the opposite to be able to lift his hammer again. He had realised that the Jotuns weren't the monsters he had entitled them to be - because his little brother was one of them and he still loved him. And because losing him would have hurt him more than getting his heart ripped out of his core by a Frost Giant and getting it frozen when he could still feel its beat in the monster's claw - it kind of would have come close to that feeling.
For now it was good to be home, although Thor missed his Midgardian companions. Especially Jane, who had kissed him Goodbye and in return, he had promised her to be back soon. But at first, he had to look after Loki, had to make sure that he was fine again.

Asgard was still at peace when he arrived, although the sounds and colours of a bleak silence seemed to have fallen over the once so glorious hills, fields and monuments. The rainbow bridge appeared a strange shade of black and white when he passed it. And his father was still resting as he was told by Heimdall. That meant, Loki was still sitting on the throne. And that meant, as he concluded, that he was either rejoicing in his glory or drowning in gloom for he was not able to carry the burdens the throne had brought with it - or the thrill of finding the truth about his parentage.
He wondered and wandered about the palace and as he finally entered the throne room, he found the throne empty. No surprise. Night had long fallen over Asgard, although the stars seemed a little less bright than usual. Thor looked at the throne and as he looked closer, he found that Loki's golden helmet was placed there in his stead, keeping his place, reflecting the shadows around it and giving the impression that nothing in this room went unnoticed by its owner. Thor smiled and turned to go. His boots clattered above the freshly polished stone floor as he walked to his room to rest. He didn't want to bother anyone at that late an hour.
But as he pushed open the door of his room, he discovered his bed was already taken. A dark-haired head was buried in his pillows, a sharp face nestled down in his blankets.
"Brother?"

Loki had barely been able to endure this day. With every day he sat on Asgard's throne, the mumbling among the citizens got louder and more discontent. They obviously thought him blind and deaf, or they simply didn't care whether or not he stayed ignorant of their opinions. Sif regarded him with open contempt for not ending Thor's banishment as soon as he had the chance, when he had even visited Midgard himself. The Warriors Three were less forthcoming with their disapproval, but Fandral seemed to be glaring more than flirting nowadays, and Hogun seemed to look even grimmer than usual. There were mutters that Odin hadn't been in his right mind when he banished his firstborn, who should sit on the throne in Loki's stead, or maybe the Allmother should have taken matters in her hands, for surely she would be more suited than the Dark Prince, the Liesmith.
Nobody but Frigga mentioned that he actually was a good king, and Loki wasn't sure he believed her. He had a hard time believing any word she said, of late. And wasn't it treason, to hand the throne over to a Frost Giant?
It felt wrong. The throne felt wrong when he sat on it, dwarfing him, making him feel smaller than ever, Gungnir felt wrong in his hands, wrong and dangerous and undeserved. Even his familiar helmet felt heavy and out of place, now that he had to wear it almost constantly.
Loki could barely stand it, and he had to face all of it as good as alone. Odin still slept, and Frigga was worried over him, Loki could see how hesitant she was to leave her husband's side. Loki told her she should stay, that he was alright, that it wasn't too hard, he could manage. The Allfather was more important.
But he lied. What a surprise, wasn't it? He wasn't alright, and he just barely managed to stand through the days, keeping up appearances. He could not be seen as weak, now less than ever.
But it had only been days since he had found out the truth, and even less time since he told Thor, and Odin slept and Frigga worried and Thor still wasn't back and he didn't know what to think anymore. Would Thor return? What would he do, if he did? Loki knew they couldn't just go back. He wouldn't get his brother back, just like that. It wasn't possible. But oh, how he missed him.

For days now he teetered on the edge of an emotional breakdown. He barely ate, he slept even less, tossing and turning and blankly staring at the ceiling at night while hiding from Heimdall's watchful gaze, replacing himself with an illusion. Over the days, he hid his red-rimmed eyes with a glamour and constantly flinched, staring at his hands, because he could swear they started to turn blue.
On this evening, he had given in. He couldn't talk with anyone, no matter how desperately he wished not to be alone anymore, but... Thor still resided on Midgard. His chambers were vacant. He could at least pretend.
Leaving an illusion in his own bed, he hasted to the rooms he knew almost as well as his own, even though he hadn't been here often during the last decades. But now, he was exhausted, and he could feel tears flowing down his cheeks without his permission, and not bothering to remove his clothes, he crawled into the huge bed, beneath the covers that still smelled so much like Thor, buried his head in the pillows, and cried.

Something startled him back into consciousness, though when he became aware of his surroundings again he didn't know what had woken him in the first place. Only that he must have fallen asleep at some point, for otherwise he would not be waking now. He could still feel the wetness of tears on his cheeks.
As he moved slowly, reluctantly, to sit up and dry his face, he found that he was surrounded by complete darkness. The candles that had previously been burning must have gone out. Perhaps a servant had come in and, upon finding the prince – no, king – sleeping in his brother's – not his brother's – chambers, had extinguished the lights and drawn the curtains close so he might rest more easily. Loki wiped the tears away, hoping that he would be able to keep the new ones already lurking behind his lids at bay, and feeling mortification bloom in his chest at the thought of a servant having seen him in a state like this.
...why had he not woken, then? He could not have been sleeping long yet, and he had ever been a light sleeper. A servant entering, no doubt expecting to find the room vacant and thus not overly careful to be quiet, should never have slipped past his attention.
Loki felt his muscles tense. He blinked, twice, to make sure his eyes were indeed open, but the darkness was absolute, unchanging, and his tired mind was starting to paint fiery patterns in front of his eyes, unable to cope with the complete lack of visual stimulation. He couldn't see. He couldn't see, nothing but black, dark nothingness, and Asgard's nights were never this dark. No matter if the candles were gone, no matter if the curtains were closed as tightly as possible – as long as you weren't in the levels of the palace that were below ground, the dungeons, where there were no windows, there was always light. Always. The numerous stars of the night sky squeezed their lights through every crack and every scratch. Thor's chambers weren't supposed to be dark.
There was a sound, a thumping, rushing noise, and Loki realised it was his heart, pumping blood through his body at a frenzied, panicked pace, and suddenly he couldn't stand the darkness anymore. He gestured in the air, invisibly to his eyes, concentrating on the power within him, directing it to the candles in his desire for light, for vision.
There was no reaction. No flame suddenly lighting up in a distance, no small light that would allow him to see his surroundings, and Loki's movements grew frantic, almost desperate. He needed light, he needed to see, he needed...
The blackness appeared to be closing in on him, and for the first time in his life, as far as he could remember, he had the notion that there might be different kinds of darkness, different kinds of black, of... of nothing. There was a kind that was his friend, his companion – the shadows he could hide himself in, which he could twist and bend until they would let him disappear between them and spit something out in his stead, illusions with which he might trick others into believing things that were not there. There was friendly darkness, there was a comforting kind of darkness, there was a kind of darkness he was wary of, when he didn't know if there might be an enemy hidden in it on the battlefield – and there was this new kind of darkness he found himself surrounded by now. And his own shallow, short breaths didn't seem to be the only ones he heard. Where were – the candles, he needed –
"They will not light." He froze, his hand hanging in the air in front of his face as if he had forgotten he put it there, since he could not see where it was. Someone – someone had whispered to him, in this dark room. Someone had known – seen? - that he was trying to light the candles, and whispered to him of the impossibility of the attempt. Someone was here, with him.
He slowly withdrew his hand, pulling it close to his chest. "Who is there?"
"They will not light," the voice repeated, whispery and obscure, and Loki's breath hitched as he realised where the sound came from. Someone was under the bed. Someone was lying beneath Thor's bed, how had he not noticed, how had he not seen –
"You do not need them," came another voice – or was it the same, just from a different location? For this time he heard it not from underneath him, but from the opposite side of the room, where he knew the door to the adjacent bathing chamber to be. Loki screwed his eyes shut, but it made no difference and he opened them again, trying to glance around, to see who would dare to mock him so, to repress his magic, to try and frighten him –
"You need only us!" He swallowed back a cry. This time the voice came from the foot of the bed, from the direction of Thor's wardrobe, and now Loki could see, but he wished he couldn't, he did not understand why he would ever have wished to see. Two eyes, two red, red eyes, staring at him from across the room, glowing in the dark. Bright. But other than a candle would, these eyes illuminated nothing but their own existence, still keeping the room in darkness, breathing, living darkness, threatening to swallow him whole, to keep him here forever, surrounded by nothing but these cold, red eyes to keep him company.
Red eyes staring at him, hungrily, from the wardrobe. Then the sound of a door, a quiet screak, and a second pair flared to life. "Come, little Princeling," the eyes whispered, and their voices came as one, from the wardrobe, from under the bed, from everywhere. He stared at them, unable to avert his eyes, unable to even close them to blink, and they started to tear up and his vision swam, multiplying the hungry red orbs until there were multitudes of them floating in the air, surrounding him, coexisting with the darkness and threatening him just the same.
Come, King of Lies, little Princeling, little monster...And to his horror, Loki found his body obeying. His hands threw off the covers, his legs swung over the edge of the bed on their own, and Loki gasped and struggled and fought for control, but to no avail. He moved towards the voices, his body deciding it belonged with them as his mind screamed silently at him to flee. He couldn't. He couldn't.
You never were supposed to be here.He wasn't. He shouldn't be. You are a liar, Princeling. You lied before you even knew what lying was.He did not belong here. He belonged... with them. Become one of them, one of the voices. Red, hungry eyes, whispering. He had almost reached the wardrobe. Join us. Red, glowing eyes, flowing directly in front of his own. See us. See what we are. See what you are. His hand raised itself stretching forward, and it met a cool, smooth surface. Glass. Monster.
And Loki saw. He saw his hand touching the mirror, and he saw the mirror image's hand touch his own, the monster in the mirror with its red eyes, its blue skin, and Loki's face and Loki's clothes and Loki's body, smirking at him hungrily through the glass, and Loki screamed.

Yes, it truly was him, for he was the only member of the family who possessed those emerald eyes that were now tiredly blinking up on him, not yet seeing him. Thor's joy was overflowing even though the desperation in Loki's face wasn't well-hidden. He cupped his brother's cheek in one of his big hands.
"It's so good to see you..." He didn't say well, for Loki looked everything but. And he didn't ask him what he was doing in his room because he had an idea of what he might have been trying to find here.
"Th-Thor?" He stared back, wide-eyed and panting slightly. "What... you... you have returned...?"
Have you been crying? It was the next question that came to Thor's mind, but he didn't voice it. He knew, Loki wouldn't admit it, even though Thor could still see and feel the leftovers of tears on his cheeks. How are you? No, it sounded insincere. It was the basic question of every ordinary conversation and most of the time, people didn't ask because they wanted to know but because they didn't know what else to say.
It took a few long moments for Loki's exhausted brain to catch up with him and figure out what exactly was happening, why he was awake again and why the room was not a familiar one to wake up to. He then recoiled, scrambling backwards almost in a panic and tangling his limbs in the bedsheets in the process.
His heart was racing beneath his ribs. He was in no state to defend himself should Thor have decided to strike at him, not now, sleep-deprived and exhausted, having just awoken from what little rest he could get – if one counted a nightmare as resting.
But Thor just reached out his hands in a comforting gesture. "Yes, indeed I have... I am sorry to wake you, brother but I must admit I did not expect to find you here..."

Of course you didn't expect to see me here, you didn't expect to see me ever again probably, you didn't WANT to see me here or anywhere else, did you? Tears that had still been lurking close anyway sprang to Loki's eyes once more, unbidden, and he lowered his head to hide them. Don't be weak, don't be weak now. He didn't know what to make of Thor's tone of voice, but even if it didn't sound like he would raise Mjölnir against him, his words made it quite clear that Loki was unwanted here.
"Forgive me," he mumbled, and wasn't it funny that he was a king now and begging forgiveness of one who by all rights was his subject? "I did not know of your return today. I sh-shall take my leave so you may rest."
He started untangling himself from the blankets, still looking downwards. The tears had already spilled over, and even Thor was bound to notice the tremor in his hands. He shouldn't have come here, but he was so tired.
Again Thor reached out his hands - as if to wrap the blanket around Loki again, as if hoping he could ease this certain tremor. "No, no... it's fine... Stay here..." They could pretend to be children again, not knowing terrible secrets, not caring about differences, trying to chase away the shadows of a nightmare. They could snuggle up to each other and warm each other and forget about everything that was driving a wedge into their relationship. They could be there for each other. And as Thor took in Loki's ailing expression, he found that his brother now needed him more than ever and that this was indeed the right time to be there for him, even though he hadn't been there for him for a much longer time. It didn't matter now.
"What's... what's wrong?" he asked helplessly and slid closer, lifting one arm to put it around Loki's slim shoulders, but his brother flinched.
There was a crash and a cold light split the night sky as the clouds suddenly started to pour rain over Asgard. And the droplets running down the glass windows looked like tears. The pale stars were crying. And so was Loki. Thor noticed and finally he hugged him carefully.
"It's alright, Loki... I'm here... and I'll never leave you here ever again..." And he truly was determined to keep this promise - in case Loki was willing to accept it as such. But Loki's instincts were screaming at him to move, to act, but they were screaming more than one thing and one side was contradicting the other, demanding he get off the bed and run, escape Thor, escape this dreadful situation and this realm and all the lies, and at the same time demanding he give in, surrender to Thor's arms that were circling around him hesitantly, and just hold on to him and believe that everything could ever be well again. And because he didn't know what to do, because he still was terrified and desperate and exhausted, he just hung limply in Thor's arms, between yelling at him in fury and clinging to him in need.
"You... you came back," he mumbled after a few moments, pathetically, as if he couldn't quite believe it. "You... you don't..." You don't hate me. He couldn't voice it, not when he still didn't know, when it could still be a trick, a lie, but this didn't seem like hate, even though Loki couldn't understand how it could be anything else.
"I don't hate you, no..." Thor finished the sentence. He didn't know why, but some yet undiscovered part in his brain told him that this was what Loki had been fearing all along. Suddenly, there was sympathy welling up from the depths of his heart, a feeling he hadn't been familiar with for ages. And suddenly he noticed things because he looked. He kept Loki in his arms, because he sensed that this was what he longed for, but he didn't encage him for he also sensed that he wasn't all comfortable. He hadn't known that there was so much sentiment in this big, strong body of his and in this heart that had long long time only beat for battle. Finally he let go, and as Loki suppressed a sob, he put one hand to his face to catch a tear.
"And I'm here to help you, brother..." He took his shoulders and looked into his face, attempting a smile to cheer him up. "It's alright now..."
No. No, it's not. Because Thor being back and there now and not hating him made it better, yes, it helped a little in soothing the pain and anxiety, but it didn't make it alright. Loki was still a Jotun, his entire life was still a lie, and even Thor couldn't make it alright in just a few minutes, but it was so like him to think that it was that easy.
"Alright?" Loki's voice sounded brittle, not quite breaking but like shards of glass, smooth on the surface but with sharp edges that cut the one who spoke as much as the audience. "It... it is not alright, Thor. Nothing is." He felt fury raising its head, and he concentrated on it because it felt so much better than the anguish and despair of the last few days, even though he knew those would be returning soon enough. For now he would let himself have a little break and be angry, because wasn't it all Thor's fault, in a way?
"You," he snarled, silently rejoicing in the way Thor drew backwards in confusion and alarm, "you are a moron, Thor. You just left and went on a holiday on Midgard and left me here to deal with everything on my own with father conveniently asleep so I get the throne you were supposed to have, and I don't even know what to DO with the darn thing, never mind the fact that my life just broke apart after a completely unnecessary visit to Jotunheim which you dragged me along on against my will!" He was panting and barely noticed the tears still running down his cheeks as he pounded his fists against his flabbergasted looking brother's chest. "And now you think you come back and that makes everything alright?! You... you mule-headed... you couldn't even let me know if you want to kill me or not when I came to Midgard...!"
What? "What?" It came out louder than he had intended and it brought back the HORROR on his face. Well, maybe not quite HORROR, but horror and shock and confusion; eyes wide, agape and probably staring.
"Now... you... you don't go blame me for everything... I... could I know you're-" he didn't quite know what to say, so he went over to something else instead. "I thought you wanted the throne! I thought the throne was what you always envied me for! Now you got what you wanted, shouldn't you be proud and - and... satisfied?"
He jumped up from the bed and suddenly it was ridiculous that he imagined Loki and him lying there cuddling only a few minutes ago. They were no children anymore. No nightmare could end that easily. Little monster. He flinched at the fury and the tears in his brother's face that were there both at once and he didn't know how to take them. "Anyway..." he remembered there was something left to say. "Why... why do you think I would kill you? Do you think there is so little heart in me, so little sense?! Do you really think me that much of an ignorant oaf?!"
There were too many questions, too many things to think about, to give an answer to, and Loki had had his share of thinking for the next few decades because thinking hurt and he never thought something he usually so enjoyed doing could ever hurt so much.
And so he yelled at Thor, his vocal chords burning at the force behind his words, because it was the only way he could, maybe, drone out his thoughts. "What was I supposed to think?!" he screamed, suppressing a cough. His throat felt raw already. "I came to you to tell you I'm a monster, Thor! I was prepared to be struck dead the second you realised the truth, do you have any idea what it's like, to fear your own brother would not hesitate in killing you because he IS NOT YOUR BROTHER at all, because you're a MONSTER?! And you did not say a thing, you just stood there and stared at me like I had two heads, which probably would have been better yet, and I... and you, you had just started a war with Jotunheim's people because they are monsters, your greatest desire was always to slay them all as soon as you got the chance, what was I- What am I supposed to think?!" He had gotten to his feet at some point and stood before Thor now, panting and struggling to breathe and not knowing what he was doing. "And do not... do not even assume I care about the throne, even if I were of Asgard and Odinson and- I never wanted it, now less than ever-"
In only a blink of an eye Thor's hands gripped Loki's upper arms and no matter how much Loki grit his teeth and fidgeted, it would not get him anywhere. A thunder growl, a lightning strike. Loki cringed and then he shuddered as if a certain cold had just patted his shoulder. There was rain clattering against the glass like pebbles and the whole world seemed to rumble and quake.
Thor looked him in the eye. He looked close - not saying anything once again and it was there. The blink of terror. Loki was scared. Thor could feel the blood rushing through his veins, he could feel his drumming heartbeat echoing in his pulse and he saw he was panting - with fear, not with rage.
"You are a fool..." Thor said, still holding on to Loki. He knew better than his brother. He knew he was no monster (oh well) and he knew the Jotuns were but people, seeking peace, not war. They were no threat for Asgard. And neither was Loki. And he loved him. Loved him, loved him, loved him - even though Loki's tongue silently articulated You hate me. But it was a lie - what else?
"I would never have any intention to kill you... You're my brother and you will stay my brother... and I'm wondering now how often I will have to repeat those words for you to finally believe them..."
Loki wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe them so badly, but he didn't know if he could. He had tried to hide behind his rage, because yelling and raging at Thor was a protective shield that would keep the fear and pain at bay, hidden deep inside so nobody could see and he himself could pretend they weren't there, but Thor hadn't reacted to it as Loki had anticipated. Thor, with his blatant refusal to get angry himself, with his unexpected lack of temper, had successfully drained the fight right out of Loki, leaving him exposed and helpless and shaking violently beneath his hands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered unsteadily, choking back a sob. "Thor, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." For being a monster. For yelling at you. For stealing your little brother. For everything. Some instinct finally broke through, and suddenly his head was buried in Thor's broad chest. "I don't... I... I'm just... I'm tired." Scared. "I'm so tired..."
And Thor knew Loki was being sincere. He knew it in the way he then breathed a shaky sigh that went right through his chest and was weakly touching his heart. For a moment he had just sat there, his arms awkwardly stretched to the side, his face showing surprise in every way possible. But then a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he wrapped his arms around his brother once again. He circled them carefully around his head that rested against his corslet (and he wondered how this could be comfortable) and he soothingly brushed his fingers through Loki's black strands. And he felt, his fingers hadn't been gentle for far too long - he had just patted backs and shoulders and smashed glasses and punched blank faces with clenched fists and threw Mjölnir as far as he could.
"I'm sorry, brother..." he finally said, his voice louder than a whisper but still softer than usual. "I'm... I'm here for you..." He held on to him tighter and he faced the window while he talked, noticing the raindrops weren't as forceful anymore and the loud thunders were but a distant roar. He was calm again. "I know, I haven't been there for you in the past and I could understand it should you decide you can never forgive me my selfishness... But now... I promise, I'll help you and I'll never let you down ever again..." He sighed. "I'm sorry I dragged you to Jotunheim, I'm sorry I made you believe they were monsters, I'm sorry I was disobedient and got us all into trouble... I'm sorry, I'm an oaf, you're right..." He breathed a laugh. And he kept stroking his brother's head, surprised that Loki made no attempt to pull back but gave in to his hug, letting his brother hold him. Loki felt big hands on the back of his head, but they didn't hurt him or tease him, instead softly tangling and untangling his hair and dragging fingernails along his scalp with barely any pressure. He felt himself relax under the touch, his muscles finally loosening a little of their perpetual tension. Thor was warm, a familiar warmth that seemed to be able to chase away the cold Loki wasn't even supposed to feel but that had still managed to leave him trembling. Now, it was slowly disappearing.
"Shut up," he mumbled. "Stop apologising." Because Thor was an oaf and would always be one, but the right to call him out on that belonged exclusively to Loki. And right now Loki didn't want to, and he didn't actually blame Thor for much either. He couldn't have known.
After a few minutes, he felt Thor shift his weight ever so slightly, and suddenly he realized that what he was doing really didn't suit a prince and short-term king of Asgard, that it was the middle of the night and he should not embarrass himself any further, and let Thor sleep for just because Loki was unable to find rest, Thor didn't need to be kept awake as well.
"I... I suppose I will take my leave now." Loki drew back, his cheeks growing warm with a blush as he stumbled over his words, avoiding Thor's gaze. "I shall retreat to my own chambers... forgive me, I-I should not have kept you up." His hands moved on their own accord, smoothing his crumpled attire and fidgeting with his sleeves. He swallowed and bit his lip, resisting the urge to rub his burning eyes. "It... it is good to have you back." He looked down uncertainly, and then snapped his head back up, hastily retreating towards the doors.
"No, please..." Thor's arm moved up on its own, a gesture that could have been defensive - and as he realised, he turned his palm, his arm sunk down to his side. "You... you are welcome to stay here..." What an odd thing to say. Was it him who needed his brother here bringing back nostalgic childhood memories of them trying to chase away the darkness of the night? Or was it Loki, who - as he could sense - needed Thor's comfort, needed proof that he wouldn't harm him? He could see Loki was hesitating, playing with the hem of his shirt - his knuckles white from the pressure he put on the cloth. It was clearly showing that he was nervous and insecure and as he stood next to the great oak-door that was casting a black shadow only on one side of his tender frame, he seemed lost and small in the gloom around him. A little boy once again, scared - the aftermath of a bad dream.

"Thor...? Thor?" - "What is it, little one?" - "I'm scared... there is so much darkness in my room... it feels like it's eating me up..." - "It's alright, Loki... It was only a nightmare... Nothing will harm you... Come here, I'll protect you..."

"Come..." Thor pointed to his side, pulling the blanket to the side. "There is enough space for both of us..." He smiled again, feeling something tearing at his heart. Little one. They were no children anymore. But Loki still needed him. And it felt good to be able to provide that certain help.

He shouldn't. No, really, he shouldn't, he shouldn't even be tempted by Thor's offer. It was ridiculous. They had both long outgrown the age when this was acceptable and not a reason for mockery. He wasn't a child anymore, scared of monsters hiding in his bedroom, for the only monster that was there now was- no don't think it don't Thor wouldn't like it if you thought that Frigga wouldn't either
Either way, he was too old for this. He didn't need his big brother to crawl into bed next to, so he might soothe him after nightmares of fire and destruction and rage that terrified him just as much as the thought of monsters. He could face them alone, he could sleep alone, he could leave and return to his chambers and lie down there and wait for morning, and it would be fine.
But he was tired. His head was throbbing with fatigue, and Thor was looking at him with such a hopeful expression, as if he needed Loki with him as much as Loki needed him now, even though he was loath to admit it even to himself. And Thor... he wasn't mocking him. He hadn't laughed at him for seeking solace in his vacant chambers, hadn't mocked his tears, and now gestured towards the wide bed he had gotten up from long minutes ago.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to stay. Just for one night.
"I do not have sleeping attire on me," he mumbled nonetheless, picking at the hem of his tunic. He took a hesitant step towards Thor, hoping his brother hadn't noticed how he swayed slightly on his feet from exhaustion. "I should at least go and-"
"Nonono, not necessary!" Thor jumped up from the bed as if he had been stung in the back with a needle. Loki flinched at his words interrupting him impudently. But Thor only trotted to the other end of his chamber - the end that was hidden in darkness - and he was muttering and mumbling to himself, "Oh where did I put that one, it has to be here somewhere..." and as he found what he was looking for he gave a reassuring "Ah!" and pulled it out of a drawer. He threw it in Loki's direction, leaving it to him to catch the piece of red fabric rushing towards him. Then he disappeared behind a folding screen, putting off his heavy armour, letting it fall to the ground with a metal clatter that echoed in the peaceful nightly silence. Loki cringed and his face was chiding him for making so much noise but Thor merely shrugged and grinned.
"What...?" he chuckled. "Better try on that thing." But in the way Loki was holding the piece of clothing at arms length to look at, lifting one eyebrow in that hilarious way, it rather seemed like he didn't believe he could actually wear that thing. And, really, Loki was having a hard time believing it.
"You do realize that I am a little... well, smaller than you are?" Not to mention that red made him look horrible. But, truly. He stared at the wide piece of clothing, turned it around once he had figured out he was holding it upside down, and then held it in front of his body.
He gave Thor an unimpressed look at the snort he received in response to that action. "Hilarious, truly," he deadpanned, resisting the urge to throw the thing in his brother's face. There was space for at least two Lokis inside of it, and for a moment he considered demonstrating this with a little magic, but thought better of it. He was ready to keel over as it was, he didn't need to exhaust himself even more; his concentration was already half torn to shreds.
As Thor returned and looked at him questioningly, dressed in something that fit him quite perfectly, Loki finally rolled his eyes and relented, disappearing behind the same folding screen Thor had used. He wondered when they had become ashamed of undressing in front of each other, but couldn't bring himself to disregard the screen either.
When he stepped out into the room again, he felt like he was wearing an ill-fitting wide dress, and the scowl on his face must be telling as to what he thought about that. "Thor... don't you dare say a word."
Thor merely pressed his fist to his mouth, suppressing a chuckle and it sounded like he was choking on something - on his own laughter, surely. But then he cleared his throat as Loki's eyes where shooting daggers at him and he turned his head aside to escape this murderous glare and gave a suppressed giggle once more. "Hihi-sorry..." He turned again. "No, really, it's fine, red looks quite... presentable on you..." He knew, his eyes were betraying his amusement, thus he shook it off and scratched his scalp, shamefaced - also turning a light red himself?
"No, truly, I'm sorry..." he repeated, climbing in his bed and slipping closer to the window so there would be space for his brother. "Don't be cross...?" It sounded more like a question than a plea. "Still want to come here...?" He patted his hand on the mattress right beside him and he looked at Loki, cocking his head to the side with a genuine, good-natured expression on his features.
Loki glowered at Thor for a bit longer, but soon decided he didn't really have the energy to keep it up. "Moronic oaf," he muttered and rolled his eyes, stepping towards the bed.
Two steps away from the soft, inviting looking sheets he found himself hesitating again. Should he really -? With one hand he adjusted his collar, as it was too wide and threatening to slide down his left shoulder, while his other hand wrapped around the bedpost. He kept it there, feeling the need to steady himself, while he eyed both his brother and the bed apprehensively, his lip worried between his teeth.
But then Thor made an exasperated hand motion and Loki felt his cheeks redden further, finally crawling up beside his brother. He kept his distance, the bed was wide enough, and between himself and Thor there was still space for at least one more person. Eyes darting around, he stiffly lay down on his back, hands knotting together in front of him to keep them from trembling with nervousness as much as exhaustion. "Good night, Thor..."
"Good night, brother" Thor replied. Looking to the ceiling himself, his lips were pulled into a satisfied grin. He observed his brother with half an eye, noticing how he was turning; careful not to make the blankets rustle too much as he shifted uneasily. Thor then looked at him with both eyes, he saw how he was lying there, only an arm away, turned to the other side, his hands folded beneath his head in a position that didn't look comfortable to him. He was still not entirely trusting Thor or the situation in general but he was there, wrapped in his blankets - even if showing him only his back.
It surely was strange - it had been centuries ago since they'd last shared a bed, and decades since Loki had even entered Thor's room for more than a quick request or a short report. And still it felt good and the familiarity came with the setting and all of a sudden it wasn't strange or even awkward anymore. It wasn't inappropriate considering they had had more quarrels than battles over the last years. It wasn't outrageous considering Thor's loyal companions or even their father would pull a face and roll their eyes at them in desperation. It wasn't odd, considering they weren't even really related to each other. But that didn't matter. Not at all. This is my brother. The affirmation kept coming.
And finally - as Thor saw him shiver in his blankets - he slipped closer and he reached out to wrap one arm around his brother's lanky figure and he pressed him to his chest tightly, burying his nose in his dark hair.
Loki jumped in response to the touch, even though he had heard the sheets rustling when Thor moved and so had known to expect the gesture. Still, his body seemed intent on betraying him.
"You're my teddy bear now..." Thor whispered in Loki's ear and his voice carried a soft trace of laughter.
While Loki had anticipated Thor's touch, his words were unexpected and made no sense at all. "I am your... what?" What in all the Nine was a "teddy bear", and why would he label Loki as such? He considered turning around and looking at Thor to make clear how ridiculous his statement was, but that would mean facing him while lying in his arms, and Loki could already feel red creep into his cheeks at the mere thought. So he kept as still as possible, desperate to distract both himself and Thor from the soft tremors still running through his body. "I do hope you did not just insult me, brother. I might have to take revenge..." He smirked into the dark, flashes of a young Thor screaming and flailing at a whole people of ants crawling around in his sheets.
"Uuh..." Thor slightly turned his head, so his deep voice wouldn't rumble directly in his brother's ear. "They... have that on Midgard..." He grinned and he knew Loki must feel how the grin spread on his lips as they were still all but buried into his hair. "Small bears made of a peculiar sort of texture and stuffed with cotton... and the humans take them to bed..." He gave a warm chuckle.
And then, with a joyous sigh, he pulled his brother even closer, taking in the flowery scent of his hair oil. Loki's head rested on his shoulder so he would easily rub his cheek to the back of his skull. His arm was wrapped around Loki's neck, his lower arm resting on his chest, his hand on his shoulder. The other arm enveloped him tightly from the other side, Thor's ever so raw fingertips stroking Loki's hand.
And Loki was trembling, lying stiff and still, like a statue.
"Oh come on, loosen up, brother!" He squeezed him and one free hand roughly tousled his strands. The hoarse "Thor...! You're. Breaking. My. Ribs..." went unnoted. Loki was honestly afraid for his bones. Not that Thor seemed to notice any of it.
"Th-Thor!" he wheezed, his hands coming up and futilely tugging at his brother's arms, trying to free himself. "I can't breathe like- like this, you..." He gasped for breath, and then choked as the air went down the wrong pipe and dissolved into a coughing fit which at least made Thor loosen his grip enough for Loki to get a little distance away while he caught his breath, distantly aware of Thor's calloused hand carefully patting his back.
When he turned around to glare at his brother, one hand pressed against his aching chest, Thor at least looked properly ashamed, glancing at him apologetically. "If this is what Midgardians do with their 'teddy bears', brother, I suggest you don't view me as such!" He blinked, his brain comprehending what he just said, and shook his head with a suffering groan. "Actually, don't view me as such in general, I am most certainly not a bear..."
Thor shot back a laugh. "Of course, brother... I'm sorry..." Loki didn't look like he could accept his apology. "Truly, I'm sorry... I hope you're alright?" Loki just sighed and put one hand to his forehead in exasperation - well, one red sleeve, for his hand had fully disappeared beneath the fabric of Thor's far-too-big nightgown as Loki had lifted it. "Come back?" Thor asked, his voice sounding sincerely hopeful. Loki glared at him, his eyes silently saying Don't get any ideas and in response Thor grit his teeth to something that was supposed to be an I'm-sorry-grin and pulled his face into that hangdog expression. Loki actually sunk back down with a moan, truly exhausted and in a slight huff and turned aside. And Thor slowly slid closer again, circling his arms around his brother once more, careful not to break him, as he was as delicate and fragile as a vase. Smiling he tipped his nose and he could feel Loki was crinkling his forehead at the touch. Then he buried his face in Loki's dark strands once again, savouring his oh so personal smell and he closed his eyes.
"Sleep well, little one" he whispered lovingly and gently stroked his brother's elbow, barely touching him, for he was afraid he might not be capable of as much tenderness as was required.

-

Loki woke up to a sound like someone was sawing trees right next to his bed. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that his bed was inexplicably cold for some reason. The third, when he blearily opened his eyes, was that he wasn't in his bed at all. He was wearing a red nightgown that was made for someone with a much broader frame than his, and in his sleep had somehow managed to curl up inside of it so now his knees were pressed against his chest, and everything except for his head was covered by the red fabric. It was still cold, though.
With a silent groan, he untangled himself and rolled unto his back, turning his head to the other side. There he discovered the reason for the drop in temperature, as well as the origin of the tree worker that had woken him in the first place.
Several paces across from him lay Thor, who obviously at some point had decided he was not used to keeping a teddy bear close during sleep and had let his brother go. Loki might have felt relief at that, since it meant he didn't have to worry about waking up with broken ribs at least, but Thor had also decided to keep his blanket close instead of his "teddy bear", taking the whole thing with him when he rolled over. As a result, Loki was left shivering and uncovered beside him. Why had none of them thought of lighting the fire before they went to bed?
Huffing, Loki sat up and blinked the dizziness away as he reached out, with every intention to snatch a part of the blanket back, but then he paused. Thor was facing him, eyes closed and a gentle smile adorning his features. He looked at peace, and suddenly Loki couldn't bring himself to disturb his rest. And besides, he told himself, if I wake him by accident now he'll just use me as a cuddle toy again, and when he tires of it I'll end up without a blanket once more.
No, he would have to find another solution. A few minutes he just sat in bed, yawning occasionally, his hair falling in tousled strands around his face, his thoughts moving sluggishly, as if still half asleep. Looking around tiredly, his eyes fell on the folding screen in the corner. He blinked, twice, before he made up his mind and made his way towards it.

As he stumbled back to bed and let himself collapse upon the soft sheets (he knew the impact wouldn't wake Thor, he had once literally slept through an earthquake), he couldn't help but smile. His brother's cape dragged behind him, but the servants kept the floor clean, so Loki knew there would be no complaints about dust in the morrow, and it was warm, as if Thor's warmth still lingered and clung to it even after hours. He wrapped it around himself, coming to lie next to his brother again, closer than he would have had the other been awake, and facing him this time. Still propped up on his elbow, he considered Thor's sleeping form for a moment, before hesitantly reaching out a hand and smoothing back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face and now fluttered slightly with every breath. "Sleep well, brother." Warm once more, Loki closed his eyes, concentrating on the regular snoring beside him instead of trying to block it out, and let the familiar sound rock him back to the land of sleep.