It took Thor years to realize the wisdom of his father's condemnation of war. Oh, it had been joyous at first; the battles had been the stuff of legends; mjolnir had sung through the air like a sweet hunting falcon. Thor could remember pride swelling in his chest whenever he watched Jotun armies scatter before him, mighty warriors and wounded thralls alike fleeing from the advancing Asgardian forces.

But any joy had died the night Loki left. He swallowed. He wasn't going to think about his brother's betrayal. Loki wasn't even his brother anymore, he supposed. Loki was nothing more than a treacherous snake that bit the hands that had fed and cared for him since he was an infant.

If Loki hadn't left Asgard for Jotunheim Thor might not be in his current predicament. Yet he had left, and now Thor found himself enjoying the cold hospitality of Laufey's halls, bound hand and foot on the cold floor. Or perhaps Loki had nothing to do with the ambush that had caught his army the night before. He supposed he would never know.

A kick to his stomach brought him away from his musings. "Welcome to my court, Thor Odinsson."

Thor looked up at Laufey, uncowed. "Your hospitality leaves something to be desired."

Laufey raised an eyebrow. "Too cold for you?"

Thor scoffed. "Hardly. But I find I prefer civilized society to your caves."

"Insulting your hosts. It's shameful." Laufey tilted his head disapprovingly. "What to do with you?" He leaned forward and grabbed Thor's chin with icy fingers, pulling him forward until their eyes were inches apart. "What would hurt your father most, I wonder? Your head on a platter of ice?" He paused to slide a finger down Thor's cheek, smiling at the trail of blood it left behind. "Or perhaps the sight of you broken? Begging for mercy?"

Thor smirked. The hall was full of jotun itching for his blood but he was Thor Odinsson; forged of a harder metal than any ice demon. He was strong. He would outlast them. "Do your worst."

Laufey laughed; it sounded like screeching ice. "So accommodating." He turned to face the assembled jotun throng. "Strip him. Any who wish may try their hand at the lash."

Thor let hands rip the mail and cloth from his back with ill grace. This was inevitable. But he'd had worse.

The first few lashes were annoying, like mosquitoes he couldn't swat away. The next few dulled the sharpness and pushed him into a hazy numbness; he was so clouded by the steady snap of the lash that Laufey's icicle bludgeon caught him across the face unexpectedly. The pain bloomed bright across his eyelids but he bit down hard on his lip, determined not to cry out. He would survive this with his dignity intact. He would not give in.

"If you think to hurt me this way," he wheezed, "you will be sorely disappointed." Trying for nonchalance he spat a gob of blood at Laufey's feet.

Laufey considered him for a moment and then smiled. "Perhaps you're right. One of your poets once said that only a loved one could truly wound one's soul."

Thor stared at Laufey, uncomprehending as blood dripped down his face. What did- no.

The pain vanished, masked by a twisting panic and a low beat of dread in the pit of his stomach, steady as a drum. They were going to call for him. And he would come and- Thor squeezed his eyes shut. He'd rather they gave him another million lashes than that. Any torture. Any pain.

Laufey's grin widened. "Such a joy your brother is here. I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to see you again." He chuckled and tenderly slid a finger across Thor's lower lip. Thor dully realized that he could bite it if he wanted to. He didn't bother.

"I'm almost curious what you would give if I promised to bar him from the room. But no." He stood up, shaking his head almost regretfully. "I would not stand between brotherly love. Not so brotherly, I suppose. He is my son, after all."

Thor swallowed and tried to ignore the sick fear threading through his veins . He might last a thousand years under the whips and bludgeons of Jotunheim but every soldier had a breaking point. And Loki was his. Loki knew him, knew the cogs of his mind like they were simple scrawlings on parchment. Loki could easily take him apart. And Loki would do so without any regret, Thor was sure of it. Loki had turned his back on Asgard what seemed like eons ago, he would have no mercy for Thor now.

But Loki's destructive power wasn't what Thor was afraid of. It was Loki himself. It was the anticipation of seeing him and knowing that what had lain between them had turned hard and sour, and the man he had loved and confided in had chosen to leave him behind like too-small armor.

He wondered what Loki would say. Closing his eyes, he could imagine it perfectly. Loki dressed in the ice-sheathed skin of a jotun, alien except for his pitiless and haunting voice.

Well, well, Thor, not so mighty now, are we? Always golden, always perfect. But now you're nothing but a chained dog waiting to die.

Footsteps echoed from the back of the hall, breaking his concentration. A sharp scent of pine needles flooded the hall. And then a familiar voice called out. "You asked for me, Father?"

Thor blanched. The nausea in his stomach grew a thousand fold along with the reckless need to look up, to see his brother, to call to him and reach out and embrace him-

Gritting his teeth he stared at the floor. There would be no warmth in this reunion.

Laufey smiled, obviously delighting in the pain Thor couldn't keep from his face. "We have a visitor, my son."

Though Loki was silent Thor could hear his even footsteps crossing the hall. He seemed to pause behind Thor's prone form, perhaps taking in the red ruin of his back. Perhaps he was going to request the whip and carve his own mark into Thor's skin. Thor braced himself for the slice, hoping it would come. He could deal with violence, could block out pain.

Instead, he felt soft fingers trailing over the cuts, fleeting as butterflies. Thor bit back a gasp.

Laufey laughed. "A thousand lashes from us and he makes no sound. But one touch from you and he falls apart."

The fingers trailed up his back to rest at the nape of his neck. Thor concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and prayed he wouldn't cry out. He wanted to. By the stars he wanted to.

"Would you whip him, my son?" Laufey asked, obviously enjoying himself. "He is my gift to you, if you would have him. Do with him as you will."

No, no, no. Feeling sick, Thor clenched his eyes shut. He felt even more ill as the hands slipped around his neck to graze his cheek and gently force his chin up. With a deep breath, he willed his eyes open. He would face his doom as a warrior of Asgard.

Pale green eyes stared down at him, impassive. He dimly noted that Loki wore Asgardian robes over skin that was only faintly blue.

"He's terrified of you," Laufey commented.

Loki tilted his head and nodded slowly, but remained otherwise silent, his fingers a steady presence on Thor's skin.

Thor shivered. They were warmer than he thought they'd be. He desperately searched Loki's eyes for recognition or emotion, even as he dreaded what he might see in them. But there was nothing. Loki's gaze was as calm and detached as the emptiness of space.

Loki removed his hand and turned back towards his father, his face blank as Thor crumpled in the wake of his touch.

"This is a most handsome gift, father," he intoned with a formal bow. "I am grateful beyond words."

"What would you have done with him?" Laufey asked with a smirk.

Loki mulled over the question in silence.

"Kill me, brother," Thor whispered, praying that some shred of the Loki he knew remained in the icy man before him. Quickly and dispassionately would be best. Anything but the slow agony of remaining alive, slowly losing his sanity to the cruel ministrations of his once-brother.

A slight clench of Loki's fingers was the only indication that he'd heard. But it was something, and Thor dared to hope for a merciful death. It would hurt but Thor could handle pain, would gladly handle it if only to avoid-

Loki suddenly smiled, sharp and ruthless. "Bring him to my rooms."

Thor felt something break in his chest, and this time didn't try to bite back his sob of defeat.

Thor let the jotun haul him up to Loki's chambers without complaint even though their frosty touch burned and blackened his skin.

What was the point of resisting? Fighting back was futile. Death waited in the wings for him, attended by her eager companions humiliation and agony. Thor would have to bear the brunt of Loki's hatred, a hate that would taste even bitterer as it was partially of his own making. If Thor had loved Loki a little more he never would have left. And then Thor wouldn't have had to face his brother's empty seat in the great hall of Asgard or listen to his father tell him that Loki had never been his brother at all, not truly.

Loki seemed unperturbed by Thor's uncharacteristic docility: he walked ahead without looking back, his gait serene. If seeing Thor had stirred any emotion in he didn't show it; he kept any thoughts regarding his bound and bleeding brother closely guarded as he opened the door to what Thor presumed were his chambers.

Thor watched him pause in the doorway. He thought Loki might have looked back at him but blood had begun to drip down Thor's forehead into his eyes and he couldn't be certain.

The moment, if it had even existed, was broken soon enough and Loki was once again as silent as a crypt keeper as the jotun guards shoved Thor through the door.

Thor surveyed the chamber with interest, curious despite himself. On Asgard Loki's rooms had been a shadowed nest of half-spent candles and dusty parchment. Despite the mess Thor had always felt inexplicably at peace in Loki's old chambers. He had found himself returning there in the months after Loki's betrayal, trying to regain that sense of serenity while hoping against hope that his brother would pop out from behind a bookshelf and greet him with a smile.

By contrast Loki's new chambers were a study in emptiness. All of the furniture was carved of the same steel-white ice, the walls and floor were bare, and there were none of Loki's usual knick knacks scattered about. In fact the only sign anyone lived in the room at all was the tangled nest of blankets huddled on the bed. Taking it all in, Thor's heart ached. The room hardly seemed a place of comfort for all that this was Loki's home now.

"The bed, I think," Loki murmured, looking out the window like he betrayed former loved ones every day. Maybe he did, Thor thought bitterly. Maybe this betrayal meant nothing to him. Or maybe he'd never loved Thor at all.

The guards were rough as they manhandled Thor onto the four poster bed, lashing his wrists to the two posts at the end with pieces of leather Loki helpfully supplied. The restraints were tight; Thor could already feel them cutting into his circulation. He concentrated on the ground, determined not to give any satisfaction to the monsters around him. Even as he clenched his teeth in focus he knew it was a lost cause; he was helpless and utterly exposed to their mercies. It didn't take a fool to guess what these barbaric creatures meant to do to him, bound to a bed as he was.

A laugh cracked from one of the assembled jotun; it was the delighted sound of a child who had just discovered a new way to play with a toy. Thor closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around the leather bindings. This would hurt.

"That will be enough. Leave us."

Thor blinked in surprise as the guards filed away, leaving only Loki's steady presence behind him. Perhaps Loki didn't want to share Thor's body with the others, wanted to be fully in control of the pain and humiliation he meted out. He clenched his teeth in resignation.

Loki lay a hand gently on the back of his neck.

Thor almost groaned: Loki would toy with him first then? The gentleness was excruciating; better to black out from the agony and be done with it. Thor tried to twist his head around to meet his brother's eyes, hoping to goad him into action. "Will you have your way with me then? Fuck me into the mattress like a cheap whore? Or strip the skin from my bones until I beg for mercy?"

Loki pulled his hand away like Thor's skin burned him. "Is that what you expect of me?"

Thor shrugged helplessly, wincing when the motion cracked open a cut on his shoulder. Loki made an abortive move towards him that Thor didn't bother analyzing. "Who knows what I can expect from you. I know nothing about you anymore."

Loki frowned. "There are many things you never knew about me."

If Thor didn't know better he'd have said Loki seemed almost defensive. He laughed, the noise ringing hollow and bitter in his ears. "Obviously. I trusted you once, didn't I?"

Loki said nothing. With an almost imperceptible sigh he stood up. Looking away from Thor, he disappeared into a closet at the back of the room.

Thor shut his eyes, willing the bitterness spreading though his veins to subside. "Brother," he called out. "Or I suppose you don't think of me as family anymore. Please. I beg of you, end this in whatever way you see fit. I can take whatever torture you wish to give me, but I cannot stand your hatred. Let my blood wash it away, I'm begging you."

There was no answer. Thor slumped against his restraints, preparing himself for a lonely and painful night.

And suddenly Thor felt gentle hands smoothing something cool onto his back. He cried out in shock. "You mean to heal me so as to have a clean slate to work with?" he gasped. "Spare me."

Loki ignored him. With methodical movements he washed Thor's wounds one by one, rinsing the caked blood away and smearing salve over the clean cuts.

What madness was this? "I'm as ready for your torture now as I'll ever be," Thor tried again.

He felt Loki pause his ministrations and sigh. "Brother. For once in your life. Please shut up."

Blinking, Thor closed his mouth. The weariness of his ordeal had begun to hit him and he was content to hang silently as Loki dealt with his back. Closing his eyes, he could almost pretend that the smooth strokes of Loki's fingers belied gentleness and affection. Almost.

He was so lost in the rhythm of Loki's fingers against his skin that he let out a shocked whimper when Loki stopped. For a brief moment he was seized with fear: Loki had stopped, Loki was gone, Loki had abandoned him again-

Whipping his head around he let out a relieved sigh when he saw his brother had simply gone to fetch a glass of water from the bedside table. He couldn't bring himself to look away as Loki walked up to him and pressed the rim of the glass against his cracked and bleeding lips.

"Drink," Loki whispered.

Hazily, Thor obeyed. "What was it?" he mumbled after Loki pulled the glass away.

"Mostly water."

The overwhelming need to sleep washed over him: whatever drugs there were in the goblet worked too fast not to be magical. "If I hadn't drunk," he asked, "would you have forced it down my throat?"

Thor winced as Loki began to undo the restraints tying him to the bedposts. "Brother…" Loki whispered.

Thor let himself lean into Loki's embrace. "I wish you still were," he muttered into Loki's cloak.

Loki's whispered sigh and the ghost of a kiss on his forehead must have been part of a dream, he thought as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Thor woke suddenly in the night, blinking blearily for a moment before he remembered where he was and why the air smelled like the sharpness of winter. He was lying in the bed, wrapped in warm woolen blankets: Loki must have tucked him in after he had fallen asleep. Thor frowned. Where was Loki? Sitting up he surveyed the moonlit room with bleary eyes.

Loki stood silhouetted before a window on the far wall; his skin cast bone white and bruise-blue by the moon. He seemed to have heard Thor shift on the bed and glanced back at him. "It's not yet dawn. Go back to sleep."

Ignoring the order, Thor sat up fully. "Brother, why have you done this?" he asked softly. "Brought me here? Cleansed my wounds?" He left another million questions coursing through the air unsaid, his fear of the answers too great. Why had Loki left Asgard? Why had Loki betrayed his people? Why had Loki abandoned him?

Turning away from the window Loki strolled over to the bed and sat down next to him, a small smile hovering on his face. "Because I hate you," he finally said.

The words were a punch to the gut; no matter how much Thor had known there was nothing left but enmity between them hearing it said out loud still felt like the thrashing of a wounded animal.

Oblivious to Thor's torment, Loki continued. "I hate you like the earth hates the sky, like the moon hates the sun. You've always had everything; I was left with your castoffs." Loki quirked his lips and dragged a nail down Thor's cheek playfully, like a lover might. "And I never had anything, even when I had clearly bested you."

"Loki," Thor croaked, feeling sick. He'd caused this. He'd been the catalyst, the barb in the wound, and had never even known it. The irony, he thought bitterly, was that he would've given Loki anything if only he'd asked. Thor would've laid down his weapons and let Laufey spear him through the throat if he thought it would've brought Loki home safely.

He opened his mouth to try to explain this, composing pleas wrought inelegant by his distress but Loki shushed all his entreaties while gently carding his hair. Thor gave up trying to convince him of anything. Instead, he closed his eyes and let the inimitable scent of his brother overwhelm him, a faint aroma of pine trees swaying in a sea breeze. Lying in what could have been a caress; Thor could almost pretend the words his brother had spoken were kind.

Loki seemed to sense this, and drew back with what couldn't have been regret. Couldn't have been. "I have what I wanted now. You at my mercy," he asserted, almost as if he was trying to convince Thor of his certainty. "I have undeniable, irrefutable proof that I have bested you. That for once, you were proven the weaker man." He stood up and moved back to the window, looking out intently at something Thor couldn't see.

"Shame no one will ever know," Thor said, puzzled despite himself. Loki didn't seem angry or vengeful. Just sad.

Loki peered out the window once more, a private smile flitting across his face so fast Thor almost missed it. "It will have to be our secret." And then, "Your friends are climbing the ramparts."

Thor fought against his drowsiness and tried to sit up, cursing the drugs in his system. "What?"

"Sif and the warriors three," he explained as if it were obvious. "They look rather angry."

"Loki!" Thor growled, struggling with his limbs. Loki could kill them all with a flick of his wrist. He had to stop him, had to-

Loki turned to face him and made a placating gesture. "How would I ever defend myself against the combined might of such powerful Asgardian warriors?"

"You can't-"

"I can't win every fight I suppose," Loki continued as if he hadn't heard. "Farewell brother. Until we meet again."

And then Loki was gone, leaving nothing but a puff of icy mist and the faint scent of pine needles to haunt the air. Thor stared at the ground where he'd stood, dumbfounded.

And then the room erupted into light, heat, and the shouting voices of his friends.

It was Volstagg who hauled him from the bed, Sif who gasped at the ruin of his back and swore to kill the murderous snake that had done it, and Hogun who helped drag him, still gasping and nonresponsive, to the window where a rope ladder had been hung.

"Thor. Thor. Can you climb?" whispered Volstagg.

"Of course he can't climb," Sif hissed back. "He's barely moving. Fandral, carry him."

Thor allowed himself to be manhandled onto Fandral's back with a token protest of pain when they knotted a rope over his shoulders.

Everything was moving around him in a cacophony of colors and shapes. Try as he might he couldn't seem to make his eyes catch on anything solid. He concentrated on his breathing as Fandral dragged them both out of the window and into the night wind of Jotunheim. He could hear the others muttering as they descended the ladder but they seemed far away and disconnected. Resting against Fandral's back, he was content to hang limply, flitting between dreams and wakefulness. It crossed his mind that he wasn't being very helpful. He couldn't bring himself to care much. Really it was lucky that they had found him at all.

Very lucky indeed. Thor frowned suddenly and with great effort managed to lift his head. "Fandral," he gasped, pulling on his rescuer's hair. His heart was racing; a strange idea had begun to coalesce in his mind.

Fandral glanced back at him but didn't stop climbing. "Keep quiet, we're still in hostile territory."

Thor felt the words slip over his head. Tugging again at Fandral's hair, Thor realized that this could change everything. Everything. "Fandral. I- I need to know-"

"What?"

"How did you know where I was? In the keep? Who- how did you find me?" Because no one in Asgard knew the labyrinthine ways of the Jotun keep. Someone had to have told them.

Fandral grunted. "Your father said an informant came to him last night and gave him a bone talisman that would lead us to you. And it did. Thank the stars, it did."

"What was the informant like?" Thor realized he was holding his breath. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a precipice and didn't know which way was up and which way was down.

Thor felt Fandral shrug. "He was hooded. A Jotun, I think. Must have been a turncoat: their kind doesn't understand loyalty like we do."

Closing his eyes again, Thor pushed down a surge of disappointment. Fandral was probably right; it must have been just another blue skinned traitor.

"Odin mentioned there was something odd about him though," he heard Sif murmur below him. "He had a peculiar scent. Pine needles, I think it was."

Despite the haze of Loki's drugs Thor felt a frisson of hope blossom in his chest.