Thor cracked open one eye. His knuckle grazed his lip as he pulled the bed sheets up to his neck.

A distinctive sniff, sniff sound came from outside Thor's bedroom. Then in his half-awake state, Thor heard light footsteps slowly approach. Just by the sound of how each heel lifted gracefully from the ground and the small toes dug into the carpet, he knew who it was without a second thought.

"Brother," a small voice said. Followed by another sniff, sniff.

"Brother," Thor quietly replied, after considering the option of pretending he was asleep.

"Are you awake?"

Thor turned over on his other side. Standing at his bedside was his brother, Loki. His face appeared almost white under the moonlight, his short black hair was a mess, and tears formed glistening lines down his cheeks. The young Asgardian sniffed a third time.

"Yes, I'm awake," said Thor. "What is the matter, Loki?"

Loki's lower lip began to tremble. Thor could see tears well up in his large blue-green eyes.

"I had a bad dream," he blurted out.

Thor propped up one elbow on his pillow. At this point in time, Loki seemed to be a little too old to be disturbed by simply a bad dream. But Thor watched his brother's lower lip bob up and down like someone was tugging at it with a string fastened to a hook, and he knew he couldn't turn him away.

"A bad dream?" he echoed in a soft whisper.

"Yes," said Loki, and he bit the inside of his mouth. "I dreamed you weren't my brother and I was a Frost Giant and we hated each other."

"Oh, Loki...it's all right. It was only a dream."

A fresh tear ran down Loki's right cheek, and he swallowed hard.

"Thor...could I climb in bed with you?"

Thor thought for a second. They were both still small enough to fit in a single bed together. But what would Father make of it the next morning...?

"Just for the night? Please, Thor? Could I sleep with you?"

Thor lay down on his side and pulled back the covers.

"All right, Loki. You may sleep with me."

Loki, still biting the inside of his mouth, climbed into the bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. As Thor braced one arm under his brother's head and the other over his arm, Loki tucked his hands in close to him. Loki's knees against Thor's chest, his soft black hair tickling Thor's collarbone and the front of his neck, and their faces inches apart, felt strangely cold. Yes, Thor realized after a moment—his brother's skin felt like ice. Like he were freezing.

Sniff, sniff.

"I'm sorry, Thor. It was such a bad dream. We hated each other. We weren't brothers—"

Thor put his lips together and hushed, just as his mother sometimes did, until Loki's chest stopped shaking with the sobs and his breathing had calmed down.

"It's all right. It was just a dream. Nothing more. Just a dream."

He gave Loki's cold, bony arm a small squeeze as if in assurance, and pulled the covers closer.

"I'm here, brother. I'm right here," Thor said.

And Thor could not help but remember something his father had once told him—him, and not Loki, nor anyone else. Once in a rare while, Father had said, perhaps the dreams sent to us from our ancestors are not from the imagination, but from the realm of the future.

Sometimes dreams are a sign of things to come, he had said.

But Thor wasn't going to accept that. It was only a dream. Loki was his brother—his only brother. Despite all their differences and disagreements, their bond was fierce. Not a thousand worlds could tear them apart. Not a thousand swords could severe the trust they shared.

"It was just a dream," was the last thing Thor said before he fell back to sleep.

Sniff...sniff...sniff...