Oh my gods, this idea had been driving me crazy for all but a few days, a persistent itch, and I just couldn't stop until I'd finished it O.O Also, I officially start school classes tomorrow, and I really wanted to finish this one last one-shot before much of my time is taken up with homework.

So basically I wrote this in a time frame of less than 48 hours. And I haven't looked over it, so there's likely typos.

Thor and Loki are teens in this, I'm not sure an exact age. But Loki's less powerful in this story than he is in my other fics because I wanted to make a point, and have Loki grow into himself a bit here. So if any of you have seen Thor: Tales of Asgard, Loki's probably about as powerful here as he is in that.

But this whole fic's basically a metaphor ;)

NOTE: There be Loki!whump ahead, as well as a smidgeon of self-harm.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters. It's just a bit of fun - right, my friends? :P

"BROOOOOOOOTHERRRRR!"

Loki winced behind the tome he was reading as Thor's boisterous voice rang through the halls, and not a moment later the blond came barreling in through Loki's doors—without knocking—and practically crashed into the floor after tripping on his brother's casually placed leg.

"What is it?" Loki sighed, as Thor jumped to his feet, ever eager.

Thor was dressed in his light armor, made of brown and red leather, which was just screaming that he was up to something.

He stood up straighter, a hand resting proudly on the hilt of his new sword. "I'm going on an adventure," he declared.

"Of course you are," Loki muttered, tapping his fingers along the spine of the book in his arms, subtly indicating that he was not, in fact, interested in his brother's escapades.

"And since Sif and the Warriors Three cannot come, I want you to accompany me," he finished, grinning expectantly.

He was met by a blank stare. "So I am but the fallback? The last resort?" Loki retorted, a hint of acidity entering his voice.

Thor's brows furrowed. "What? No, of course not!"

"Uh huh," Loki said sarcastically. "I'm sure."

His sarcasm was however lost on his brother, who began going through his closet and grabbing items that would be useful in the monster-strewn wilderness, such as Loki's leather armor, his traveling pouch, and a water skein, tossing them at Loki's feet.

"I'm already packed," Thor stated, still with that infuriating excited smile on his face—the one that was contagious even when it shouldn't be. "So once you're packed up, we can leave immediately. We won't be needing to bring food with us since the woods are full of animals, and we'll have no problems catching ourselves dinner."

"But Thor—"

"Meet me at the training area when you're done," Thor called over his shoulder as he exited the room, cutting Loki off. "I'll go tell mother!"

As the door slammed shut, the brunette sighed, somewhere between annoyance and indulgent exasperation.

Oh well, it couldn't be that bad, Loki figured, as he began to pack his things. Besides, he'd be with Thor, just the two of them.

Nobody else to steal his big brother's attention and cast him aside to follow at their heels like a dog.

Now dressed in his black and green leathers, Loki found Thor perched on the wooden fence, a knapsack strung over his back and a sword girded at his waist by a belt.

"Ready?" Thor asked with a grin, jumping off the fence to land on the lush grass.

Loki tapped the traveling pouch slung around his hips in answer, before drawling "I don't suppose you're going to tell me where we're heading."

There were no weapons visible on Loki's person, but Thor knew from experience that his brother had a number of daggers concealed he could whip out at less than a moment's notice.

"To the top of that mountain!" Thor declared, pointing off into the distance with a brawny hand. He grabbed Loki beneath his arms and tossed him right over the fence with a few feet to spare, before vaulting himself over, ignoring the icy green glare. Or perhaps he didn't notice.

"Descriptive," Loki muttered, fixing the wrinkles in his clothes pointedly.

"The tall one," Thor elaborated. He gestured again, and Loki managed to follow the line of his arm to what appeared to a mountain that didn't seem any different from all the others in the range that divided Asgard and Vanaheim—shrouded with forests like green capes over their rocky shoulders, peaks brushing the low-lying fluffy clouds, the ones that meandered across fair skies like herds of sheep.

"There's supposed to be a viewpoint at the top where you can stand and see out over the whole of Asgard," Thor grinned, expression strangely wistful, the same way he got when he dreamed of one day being worthy of the throne and of Mjolnir. "And it's rumored at night you can see other realms, as well! It's my goal to stand at the top of the world."

"I don't know," Loki said, glancing at his fingernails airily. "I think that might raise your ego to its bursting point point and blow your head off."

Thor just laughed, punching his little brother in the shoulder goodnaturedly. "Well, I think yours could certainly do with some raising."

Loki frowned at his brother's retreating back.

"Come on," Thor called over his broad shoulders.

Catching up leisurely, Loki fell into stride beside the thunderer just as he entered the stable area.

"We'll ride most of the way, but once we get into the mountains we'll rent them a space in the stables of the last town and go the rest of the way on foot," Thor continued. He gestured to one of the servants, ordering their horses to be saddled.

Not even a few minutes later they were mounted on their steeds and galloping down the road into the forest, Thor's horse, such a light gray as to appear white flashed in the dappled sunlight, while Loki's dark bay melted with the shadows.

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with rustling leaves and the alarmed twittering of birds that scattered from the road as the horses ran by, hoofbeats pounding out a steady rhythm like raindrops on a window.

They slowed their steeds to a canter, riding side by side.

"How are your studies going?" Thor asked, genuinely curious.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "They're going well," he answered cynically. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Thor said with a careful shrug. "And because I thought perhaps you'd like to tell me about it."

"So you can mock me for it?"

At his brother's biting tone Thor glanced over, trying to make out Loki's face in the motley lighting, one moment pale cheeks caught in the sun, the next moment webbed with shadows. But his dark hair fell into his eyes, and he refused to look Thor's way.

"No," Thor said, bewildered. "Why would I mock you for it?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Loki turned his head to stare up through the canopy, up and to his right, away from his brother, and away from the sun. "Maybe because it's not manly to hide behind books. Not a worthy practice, like hitting people in the face with hammers."

"Loki," Thor sighed, "Stop being ridiculous."

A sneer was evident in Loki's voice, even though he was now staring down at his hands, hair untucked from behind his ear and sweeping down and blocking his face from view like a curtain. His head in profile, Thor could only make out the very tip of that finely-carved nose. "Am I being ridiculous? Am I?"

"Yes," Thor answered immediately. He leaned over in his saddle, ruffling Loki's hair beneath his fingers. "You're ridiculous for thinking I would mock you. I'll listen, Brother. I only wish to hear how you're doing, since I haven't been seeing much of you these past few months. You're always hiding in the library or in your chambers."

Loki's head snapped around to stare at him, and Thor could have breathed in relief to see that scrutinizing green gaze boring through his own, despite how unnerving it felt.
At least Loki was looking at him.

"I'm not hiding," Loki muttered. "I like it there."

Thor was silent, waiting.

After a few minutes of stubborn silence, Loki's hesitantly, coyly, began to tell Thor about the new spells he'd learned for controlling water and fire.
When he got Thor to laugh at his story of the water snake, a smile stretched across Loki's lips.

"Your turn," Loki countered quickly to a question from Thor, abruptly fed up with talking about himself. "I haven't heard what you've been doing lately."

Thor grinned, launching into tales of his warrior training, both his victories in duels and the times he fell on his face in the dirt, dramatizing them to the point where they could have been epic ballads.

"One day," Thor finished ambitiously, "I'm going to be the best warrior in the Nine Realms! And when I'm King—"

Loki's head snapped around, and Thor immediately broke off, blinking at Loki's intense expression,threatening and unreadable.

"When you're King," Loki said, voice like breeze, low and breathy. "Odin's Heir, the Chosen Prince. And what will you do? 'Hunt the monsters down and slay them all,' like you've boasted since we were but boys?" He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. "'Only one of you can ascend to the throne. But both of you were born to be Kings.' Those were Odin's words, verbatim."

Weaving his fingers gently through his horse's dark mane, Loki stared down at his thin, pale hands, voice soft and hollow. "So where does that leave me?"

Thor's lips parted slightly as he looked at his brother, blue eyes widening in uneasiness even as his eyebrows pulled in uncertainty. Silence lapsed uncomfortably as his mind scrabbled desperately to form an appropriate response. "Loki," he started finally, voice cracking. (Not that that was an uncommon occurrence, what with Thor's voice starting to deepen to that of a man's and thus cracking on occasion, much to his embarrassment.) "Loki, I—"

"Oh be quiet, Thor," Loki snapped, sneering. "I've had enough of your petty prattle."

Thor frowned. He was certain Loki had been listening to his stories intently, laughing and berating him for his particularly idiotic actions.

Nevertheless he held his tongue, accidentally biting it in his disquietude, the taste of copper accentuating the tarnished silver silence, the fetters of it constricting in the strain between the two brothers.

Evening crawled over the firmament like a lizard, dragging its tail of night and leaving footprints of stars in its wake, the symphony of crickets ringing in their ears.

When the two of them finally saw the lights of a village ahead of them, Thor thought he could have collapsed with relief.

After leaving the local hostel and renting their horses a space in the village stables, Thor and Loki continued up the path that wove deeper into the mountains.

The ground was rocky beneath their leather soles, and the broad-leafed deciduous trees around them slowly gave way to coniferous evergreens as they climbed, bracken giving way to brambles.

The brothers seemed to be on speaking terms again, which Thor was well relieved about. Loki showed no signs of holding any sort of grudge, and they chatted and conversed lightheartedly about such matters as their royal lessons in Asgard's history and geography, and teased each other about such matters as girls.

Though it was still morn, the sun was already a good several hands above the horizon and glaring down at them like the sky's single, brilliant eye.

Sweat was already beginning to sheen their brows and trickle down their necks, and Loki couldn't help but notice how on Thor the beads of perspiration made his tan skin glow, seeming to show his stalwartly muscular frame, while on Loki's pale and lean limbs sweat did nothing but make him look sickly, his dark hair clinging to his face like he was feverish.

As the day rolled on they talked less and less, until under the beating sunlight that made its way through the significantly sparser forest dried up their words, and their focus turned completely to the path ahead of them.

Reaching the top of the ridge they'd been climbing, they paused, noticing that the path branched into two different trails.

The one on the right continued upwards, growing ever steeper and sunnier as it zigzagged towards the top of the mountain, while the one on the left snaked down into the thickly forested valley below, a steady descent into cool shade.

Thor spared but a glance to the left before immediately walking to the beginning of the high path. He'd only gone a few steps though when he turned around, seeing Loki still standing at the junction, unmoving.

"Come on, Brother" Thor said, smiling at the younger.

Loki crossed his arms defiantly, a careless smirk spreading across his lips.

Thor's face grew perturbed, brow creasing. "You are coming, aren't you?"

"No," was the simple answer.

"But why not?" Thor protested, gesturing behind him at the path he was on, saying "This one leads to the top of the mountain! Don't you want to look out over the whole of Asgard with me? We'll be Kings!"

"No," Loki repeated, tilting his head slightly, almost as though judging his brother's reaction.

"But why not?!" Thor asked again, growing increasingly anxious.

Loki snorted. "Because you're taking that route," he said, as if that was any justifiable explanation. "It's bright and hot and I'd rather not end up being dragged up the hill by a bumbling oaf. Besides," he continued, shadows darting behind his eyes like predatory fish in the murky depths of green pools, "Only one of us can ascend to the throne."

With that, Loki whipped around and started running down the low road, dust stirring in his wake as he sped towards the tunnel of trees.

"LOKI!" Thor called desperately, stepping forwards. "LOKI, COME BACK!"

The dark figure grew smaller and smaller down the path, and Thor considered running after him, before his gaze strayed to the top of the mountain with an undeniable yearning, and he sighed, before turning his back on the retreating form of his brother and beginning his hike upwards.

Loki was want to run off on occasion, but he always came back.

Thor knew he always came back.

In sharp relief the shadows marked his feet against the ground, dust curling in the air at his heels as Loki ran down the trail, gravity pulling him downwards so it took almost no effort to give in and let it move his legs for him.

Loki laughed, exhilarated, the wind whipping it away from his lips and playing with it, weaving it into his black, black hair that flickered like flames behind him as he sprinted.

Soon enough though his mirth died, to be replaced instead by a calculating concentration as his surroundings suddenly flooded his awareness, and he noted everything from the harsh rustling of the leaves and the scent of mildew, to the lack of animal life and birdsong, only the harsh cawing of ravens audible somewhere in the distance.

At first the ground beneath his feet was rocky, but it smoothed to dry dirt, and then to moist soil, then to lush grass that sprung back up after being flattened by his boots, erasing all signs of his footprints. The trees around him grew denser, taller, thicker, branches interlacing to form a canopy that blocked most of the sunlight, dousing him in cool shade that made him smile in relief. They formed arches, a tunnel over the trail, and continuing downwards it beckoned him along, further into the valley.

The path inclined steeper and steeper, and as a river appeared to cut the path in front of him Loki could not stop himself and when he tried to slow down he stumbled and fell, skidding and rolling into the river.

Icy water enveloped him, shocking as a sudden slap to the face. It tugged at him with strong fingers that tossed him around in the current. When he opened his eyes the water was murky and dark and tinted greenish, hazy shapes of boulders like huge shadows, only a moments warning before he was smashed against them.

Loki struggled, managing to kick himself off one and stroke his way to the surface, gasping as his head breached the water. He glanced around wildly, steering himself over as he was swept downstream and grabbing the low branch of a willow and pulling himself up onto the bank, where he collapsed on his back, staring upwards into the twining tree branches and long, draping leaves.

Completely drenched, clothes clinging to his lithe frame and dark hair straight and dripping, Loki found a modicum of humor and latched onto it, snickers bubbling from his lips.
It grew and swelled until it consumed him, his entire body wracking with laughter as he rolled onto his stomach, banging the ground with his fist.

Of course he would run—literally—into a frigid river.

Good thing the cold didn't bother him much.

His laughter finally subsiding, Loki got to his knees, then to his feet, and began pushing his way through the dense underbrush, his leather boots squelching with each step.

Trekking through the sultry air, with but slivers of shade cast in short and almost nonexistent shadows from the sparse trees, Thor set his eyes on a landmark ahead of him.
He just needed to get to that rock up there.

Once there, he picked another landmark on the trial and started towards it.

This climbing in the heat wouldn't be so wearisome, he thought, if he wasn't painfully aware of the fact that it was just him, that his brother had refused to accompany him for the rest of the journey.

He'd held hope, for a while, that Loki would turn around and catch up. He'd even waited several times, sitting against a tree and staring down the way he'd come, hoping that soon he would see his brother come around the bend.

But he never did, and Thor was starting to realize that maybe Loki had just kept going.

These thoughts seemed to darken the day around him, the light not quite so brilliant when clouded gray by his dismal mood.

But he'd already set his sights on the top of the mountain, and he wasn't turning back until he got there. He wasn't really sure why, but something seemed to make him think that standing at the top and looking down over the world would evoke a revelation, a sense of euphoria.

Then he would find Loki.

But Loki likely didn't want to be found at the moment, and there wasn't really anything he could do, so why worry about it?

There was a cracking of wood to his left, and Thor's head jerked around, seeing a huge shape a few hundred yards away, obscured by a group of trees.

Thor pulled out his sword, taking careful steps closer, trying to make out what it was.

It moved closer, slitted nostrils flaring on its scaled snout, before it stopped, turning its head to look straight at Thor.

The god grinned darkly at the bilgesnipe, adjusting his stance and taking his sword in both hands.

With a bellow, the monster charged at him, knocking trees aside with his twisted and branching antlers as if they were but twigs stuck loosely in the ground. Its crimson underbelly and lackluster black scales stood out starkly in the landscape of muted browns and greens, and Thor wondered at how it managed to catch any prey like that.
Definitely not with stealth.

As it barreled towards him with its foot-long claws tearing into the ground, he stayed in place until the last moment, jumping and rolling out of the way and letting the beast ram into the boulder behind him.

He was back on his feet in a moment, ready to grab a felled tree and swing it into the creature, only to pause at an ominous trembling and cracking sound.

The bilgesnipe shook its blunt, lizardlike head, only to glance up at the formation of boulders it had crashed into as they broke away from the mountain and tumbled towards it, a hiss of air strangling through its foot-long fangs as it turned tail and ran from the barrage of huge stones now crashing down the mountainside.

Not quite what Thor had planned, but, well, that worked too.

Rocks bounding after it, the bilgesnipe tore down the mountain, knocking trees out of its way with its antlers, which were practically thick enough to be small trees themselves.

The dark bony material however went straight through wood, and it left an obvious trail of destruction behind it, the boulders knocking over what little the bilgesnipe didn't.
Its only thought to get away from the rocks and not get crushed, panicking, the creature kept running downhill, not thinking enough to go instead to the side and out of the boulders' path.

Though at least three times as large as Midgardian elephants and made entirely out of rippling muscle and scaly armor, the beast still strained to keep ahead of the rocks, which were almost as large as it. At some point the creature ended up running beside one of them, keeping pace as gravity aided them both.

The bilgesnipe didn't notice the change of scenery in the slightest, the darkening of trees and moistening of earth, too preoccupied with running away, something it did not enjoy in the slightest, being the apex predator and much more used to chasing the fleeing.

It wasn't until a river stretched ahead of the beast, and it leaped straight in with a splash, not so much swimming claws scraping against the bottom as it crossed to the other side, the rocks being swept away from the current.

When it stepped onto the opposite bank it shook its scaled black and sanguine flank, the water sliding right off and leaving it almost completely dry. It swung its clubbed tail behind it in agitation as its sides heaved with breath, and it turned its reptilian head back and forth, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the unfamiliar air, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.

Catching the scent of potential prey, its hunger making itself plainly known, the bilgesnipe began moving through the woods.

The cold was one thing. Being completely soaked was quite another.

Wind nuzzled against him, seeming to leech away iotas of warmth from him with every drop of water it evaporated, teasing away on the breeze—never enough to dry him, only enough to make him slightly more uncomfortable.

Droplets of water flicked from the toes of his boots with each step he took through the dense ferns, all the foliage huge and reaching past his head, making him feel akin to an ant, underneath the colossal trees that stretched with dark, roughly hewn bark upwards, broad leaves splintering the light and letting only a smattering of shards through to the forest floor.

Tired of waiting for his clothes to dry, Loki waves his head, saying runes aloud, the sounds rolling off his tongue and swirls and clicks.
Nothing happened.

He tried the spell again, and again, frowning when it persistently failed to work. He knew he got the spell right—he'd only read up on it the other day, and he'd gotten to work at the castle. So how come it was failing now?

With a frown Loki continued walking, hoping to come across a path. One couldn't be that far...

But after an hour or two of hopeless wandering, he was finally forced to acknowledge the fact that he was, in fact, lost.

He sneered in frustration, baring his teeth at nothing and taking out a dagger, throwing it into the bark of a nearby tree, burying it to its hilt. Stalking over, he tried to pull it out. He braced a foot against the trunk and leaned back, yanking as hard as he could, but still it would not budge.

It was subject to his scalding gaze for a few moments, before he tried again, this time wiggling and twisting the blade until it finally eased free.
Loki wiped it on his wet pants before tucking it away on his person, as he considered his next course of action.

His thoughts however were disrupted by a rumbling he felt first through his boots as the ground vibrated, then heard with his ears, the snapping and cracking sounds of tree branches falling, and a pounding of animal feet. From the pattern of the footfalls, Loki deduced that it was large, four-legged, padded and clawed rather than hoofed, and that there was only one of them.

Loki ducked behind a tree, peeking out just slightly as a bilgesnipe became visible through the dense underbrush.
He quickly ran through what he knew about bilgesnipe.

The creatures were related to dragons, except that they had no wings, and were more robustly and sturdily built, relying more on scent and sound than their slender airborne kin. They hunted by scaring their prey into a frenzy and giving chase, able to charge quickly over fairly short distances, their bodies not built for long distance running, and they didn't turn corners well. Their armor was impervious to most blades, though their scales were weaker on their underbellies, especially by their armpits. Their eyes, mouth, and nose were also vulnerable.

Loki wondered what the Hel it was doing here, seeing as bilgesnipe lived in open, rocky and grassy areas, not dense forests where they crashed into trees with each step.
He rather hoped it would pass him by without noticing him, but as it turned its head and those brazen eyes found him, it appeared that would not be the case.
It charged towards him and Loki leapt aside, only to glance up at a branch above his head as it was knocked by the tip of an antler and crashed down towards him, and he had to once more roll out of the way.

As he got to his feet however the beast was in front of him, and a cry wrenched itself from Loki's throat as blazing pain erupted in his shoulder, and he suddenly found himself being raised up, impaled on pointed tips of one of the dark antlers.

His right hand gripping the antler in front of him as the beast shook its head, his left found a dagger and with a carefully aimed throw, he landed it in one of the creature's yellowish eyes.

Ha, Loki thought to himself, managing smugness at the thought that he'd stabbed the beast in its right eye, which was the same eye Odin had lost.
The bilgesnipe shook its head harder, letting out a furious, guttural roar.

Holding on to the antler with both hands now, Loki's legs flailed, and he managed to kick the dagger with his boot, driving it deeper into the creature's eye.
The beast screamed them, high and almost metallic sounding, tossing its head so violently Loki was thrown off, his body smashing against a tree.
He crumpled to the ground at its base.

With a hiss of air through his gritted teeth, Loki pushed himself to a sitting position, only to widen his green eyes in panic as the bilgesnipe stormed towards him again, snorting in rage, incisors gnashing.

Loki grabbed a fallen branch beside him, scrambling to his feet and shoving the leafed spear down the beast's throat, piercing through the inside and out the back. With a snarled rune, the branch burst into flame, and Loki threw himself aside, the gurgling screams of the bilgesnipe filling his ears.

He got up and ran then, trying to put as much distance between himself and the monster, not even bothering to check to see whether it lived or died, but as the screaming of the beast strangled off, Loki thought he knew the answer.

As the sky began to darken, the light streaking down turning to gold, then to bronze, then to blue, Thor set up camp beneath a rocky outcropping, clouds gathering at the horizon warning of a coming rainstorm.

He'd caught himself a hare, and now skinned it with a dagger as he sat on the fur he'd brought to use as a sleeping mat, waiting for his campfire to mature.
Earlier he'd thought he'd heard the screams of the bilgesnipe echoing off the surrounding mountains, and he figured that the boulders had finally caught up with the stupid beast.

He glanced up at the top of the mountain, still a good ways above him, but he estimated he'd reach it around noon of the morrow.
From his current vantage point he could see down into the dark and lush valley far below, but he couldn't yet see Asgard, or even much else of the realm because of surrounding mountains blocking his view.

Smoke rose, curling from his fire in tendrils, and Thor frowned at it.

Loki always made it so that their fires didn't smoke.

Thinking about his brother, Thor felt his chest constrict slightly. He knew that Loki was more than able to take care of himself, but still, Thor couldn't help but wonder how he was faring.

The coals finally ready, Thor speared the skinned hare on a stick, turning it slowly as he roasted it over the fire.

What had he done to so anger Loki? Everyone knew that Thor was going to be King.

Though perhaps he'd taken that fact for granted, not even bothering to think about what that actually meant, for him or for Loki.

Even Thor noticed he was more popular with the people of Asgard, but he'd always figured that when Loki declined to go to social events and instead stayed in his room it was because he was immersed in his studies and didn't care, and that when their friends teased each other with petty insults that they simply rolled of Loki, as they did with everyone else.

Only he'd thought maybe he'd noticed Loki's face fall when nobody was looking, but that couldn't have been more than his imagination, because the next moment when he turned to get a better look, Loki's face was untroubled and clear as a blue sky's reflection in a tranquil pool.

It was fairly obvious Loki was jealous, and that there were areas in which he doubted himself, but Thor found himself jealous of Loki too.

Loki had been especially morose as of late, and that was the main reason Thor had asked his brother to join him, hoping that getting out in the fresh air would do him good, to go outside and see the world beyond his books.

And because, well, Thor missed him. Loki was after all his brother and his best friend.

They'd been growing more and more distant, seeing each other around less and less, and Thor had thought to remedy it with a little adventure.

Yes, he'd wanted Sif and the Warriors Three with them as well, because things between them and Loki seemed a little strained and he thought something like this would allow them reestablish their friendship. But when they hadn't been able to come along, Thor had actually felt almost relieved, realizing it would probably be better if it was just him and his brother.

But... he really wanted to get to the top of that mountain. It was an itch in his feet, a burn in his chest, a yearning he didn't quite understand.

Absorbed in his thoughts the hare almost burned before Thor hurriedly took it off the fire.

It tasted gamey, slightly sweet and finely textured, but he hardly noticed the taste as his mind continued to churn, trying to make some sort of sense of Loki's words and actions, and how he could make it up to him when he found him later.

He thought back on Loki's words. He'd always gotten the feeling that Loki never wanted to be King, so the sudden outbursts baffled him.

But perhaps it wasn't actually being King that Loki wanted, but being considered to be King—perhaps it wasn't that he wasn't going to be King that hurt him, but that everybody knew he wouldn't, that it wasn't even a possibility for him, something he could never hope to obtain even if he wanted it.

Thor remembered back when they were children, how Loki had always followed him around, tugging on his red tunic and saying "I want to be just like you when I get older, Brother!" and Thor had laughed and patted his head. They'd always been together.

But then recently Loki had seemed to strive to be as different from Thor as possible, even going so far as to purposefully do the opposite of what Thor did—like taking the low road instead of the high one.

Loki was a graceful soul, slightly built and with the most brilliant mind, Thor was sure, in all of Asgard. His cleverness never ceased to astound Thor, and with his words Loki could direct any conversation and get exactly what he wanted, and leave the other person with no idea what had happened.

And then he'd proven himself to have intrinsic magical ability—and Thor had overhead one of the magic tutors telling their father that Loki was the most powerful pupil they'd ever met, and that he had almost infinite potential.

But Loki had never been particularly strong or talented at fighting, not like Thor. He'd never been as bright and cheerful, as loud and boisterous as Thor.
And Thor wondered, then, if it was partly because Loki knew he could never be like him that Loki strove to be his opposite.

Thor was aware of the fact that Loki didn't meet the Asgardian standard for what a man should be, but he'd thought it hadn't bothered Loki—it didn't bother him, after all. Loki was Loki, and Thor loved him for it.

But with a painful clench of his heart, Thor realized that perhaps he hadn't done the best job of showing Loki so.

Lying on his back on the fur with his arms crossed behind his head and his eyes closed, Thor resolved to do better by his brother.

Loki ran, left hand clamped over his bleeding right shoulder, warm crimson blood flowing over his fingers. But with no reason to stop he just kept going, ducking under branches and leaping over fallen logs, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder and the complaining of his bruised ribs as they flexed with each breath.

It was so dark in the forest that at first he didn't notice that what little light made its way through the thick canopy began to wane, speckling the ground with an dusky blue instead of golden sunlight. He didn't notice until it got so dark that all colors leached away, and he could no longer tell brown from green as everything looked different shades of gray.

Slowing to a halt, Loki pulled his left hand away from his shoulder, thick black liquid coating his hand and dripping onto his boots.

He didn't notice that the entire right side of his leathers were soaked with blood, what with still being saturated from the river.

The cool breeze tickled him, and Loki flinched at its touch, raising his hand to brush the hair from his face, leaving a smear of blood across his brow.

He began to gather wood then, collecting first tinder, then kindling, then larger pieces of firewood. Finding a small clearing, he began to build the fire, flames sparking from his fingers and catching the tinder alight.

He watched the flames grow in fascination, cerulean, gold, and scarlet tongues of it lapping the night and licking away the darkness that threatened to close in around him. Inconstant and flickering, fluid in their movements as they danced, burning with the life of the branches they ate away.

The flames reflected in his eyes, and he watched them intently, never taking his gaze away. Fire had always intrigued him, a substance volatile and almost alive, a playful and dangerous thing.

He reached his right hand forward despite the screaming of his shoulder, waving his hands through the flames' tongues and smiling softly as it didn't harm him.

Picking up a stick from beside him, Loki poked the flames, watching as they clambered over the stick, latching onto it and beginning to devour it as well.

Loki brought the flaming stick close to his face, the small flame sputtering and dying out, its ghost, a thin pussy-willow-gray tendril of smoke, finishing the dance with spiraling curls that disappeared into the night.

The end of the stick glowed a vibrant orange, and when Loki blew on it, it flared brighter, bark flaking away to reveal fire still consuming the stick within. He held it over the palm of his hand, casting a dim orange light on his bloodied skin.

There was a sudden urge to drag the burning tip over his flesh, to feel its scorching bite and mark his skin with angry red welts.

He lit the stick on fire again, letting the flames burn out before drawing on his left arm with the ember, wincing harshly at first contact and jerking his shoulder, before gritting his teeth and marking another line. Suddenly he froze, pausing, wondering what Thor would think if he figured out that Loki purposefully harmed himself.

But then, it wasn't really for the pain—he already hurt enough. It was more a morbid enthrallment with fire's ability to both warm and destroy, to cause both delight and pain.
The flames were the only light in this pool of shadows he'd fallen into, and he wanted to feel it, a burning reminder on his skin, even when the fire died out.

So he shook his now dry hair from his eyes and marked a few more lines on his skin, smirking crookedly at the rune.

He tossed the stick into the fire then, watching it succumb to the flames.

There was a cracking of twigs behind Loki, a set of footsteps, light and malicious.

Loki didn't flinch, didn't start, didn't even seem to register the sound as he whispered softly, reaching a pale hand into the flames and taking hold of a coal with long fingers, the corners of his lips twitching upwards when the spell worked and it didn't burn him.

The coal of wood glowed orange, vivid and pulsing brightness like a heartbeat.

There were more footfalls, all around Loki now, padded feet on damp leaves.

He rubbed the coal with his thumb, feeling the heat dispersing into the air around his fingers, only but a tickle against his skin, a comforting warmth.

Bring it towards his face he darted his tongue out, licking it curiously.

It tasted... like blazing heat, except without the burn.

He officially loved that spell.

Despite his nonchalance, Loki's muscles were tightly wound, tense enough to make violin strings seem limp, and when the pack of wolves closed in on him he was on his feet, taking flaming logs from the fire and twirling, whacking the snarling animals in their faces and urging the flames to catch their sable fur.

They must have smelled his blood.

Howling in pain they backed off, and Loki pegged them with the burning sticks before taking off running, the wolves at his heels.

He vaulted himself off a rock and jumped a low tree branch, pulling himself up, when a scream rent itself from his lips, a wolf's jaws clamped around his leg, canine teeth digging deep into his calf as it pulled him down so he was hanging from the branch.

Letting go so he held on with only his left arm Loki grabbed a dagger and flung it into the beast's side, the wolf letting go with a yelp as he hurriedly pulled himself up and swung his leg over the branch, grabbing the next and clambering up through the tree, adrenaline numbing his injuries.

He could hear the wolves circling the tree, and he continued climbing long after he was far out of their reach, making his way into the canopy before finally pausing, wrapping his arms around the trunk as he set his chin against it, staring up at the now visible stars through the few branches above him.

There were so many stars, adorning the night's pitch-dark and velvety flank with sparks that glittered in a rainbow of shades, like fragments of bifrost.

If he squinted through his eyelashes, Loki thought he could see the immense branches of Yggdrasil stretching out infinitely and connecting stars and worlds through the dark void of nothingness that somehow held everything, but the sight made his stomach churn and so he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he tried to quell the stampeding of his heart.

The pain returned to him, his shoulder wound aggravated and reopened, blood now seeping his left pantleg and trickling down his right arm.

Tears brimmed in Loki's closed eyes, escaping past his dark lashes and trailing down his cheek, liquid silver in the moonlight that fell in shafts, making his already wan skin appear ghostly.

He turned his head so his cheek pressed against the cool, rough bark, sobbing silently and hating himself for it.

Thor jerked into a sitting position, heartbeat swift and panicked.

Glancing around wildly, his blue eyes soaked up the night as his ears craned for the sound that had woken him.

He could have sworn he heard a scream, high and chilling as it reverberated off the mountains, leaving the air on his arms standing on end and shivers capering down his spine.

Because he could have sworn...

His mind reared in denial. It couldn't have been Loki.

It couldn't have.

A series of howls pierced the night and Thor went rigid, before relaxing.

It hadn't been a scream after all, then. It had only been the howling of wolves.

Thor eased himself back down onto the fur, trying to calm his heart.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to fall back asleep.

It had only been wolves.

Only wolves.

Yet still he tossed and turned, unable to rid himself of the sunken feeling in his gut.

It took him a while to fall back into sleep's embrace.

And when he did it was dark, and not at all gentle.

It was wishful thinking for Loki to hope that sleep would come and steal him away and temporarily alleviate his pain.

So instead Loki clung there near the top of the tree, listening to the wolves howl below him, before finally they stalked off in search of easier prey, barking and snarling at each other.

The night seemed to stretch on forever, shadows dancing across him and chasing away the dapples of moonlight, though they continually returned only to be chased away again.

The shadows slipped into Loki's mouth as he breathed, galling on his tongue and mixing with acrimonious thoughts not yet turned to words they festered into hatred, tasting like bile.

With nothing better to do his mind tore at itself like a feral creature repressed and locked away, eager to kill but with nothing to harm save itself.

He looked to the stars in recourse, trying to distract himself by finding constellations.

Only then clouds rolled over the sky and it began to rain.

So much for being dry.

But he stuck his tongue out and caught a few drops, trying to wash away the taste of bile.

They tasted slightly of lightning, and did nothing but make the hatred manifesting in his mind simmer all the more.

Thor awoke again when it started rain.

He stared up at the rocky outcropping above his head, hearing the pattering around him, though he remained dry and untouched.

Rolling over onto his side, Thor watched the rain fall in streaks, puddling on the ground and rippling down the mountainside.

A dark and morose lullaby, it dragged him back under into unconsciousness.

When the sun finally breached the horizon and the clouds cracked open enough to let it through, Loki closed his eyes and turned his face away, flinching when a ray of sunlight brushed against his back.

Sopping to the bone, Loki brushed his wet hair behind his ears, before beginning, slowly, to move his complaining limbs and climb back to the ground.

But the tree branches were slick with rain and his footing slipped, sending him falling down through the branches, tumbling and smacking into them, sharp cries escaping his lips as his body was beaten and bruised, and he could feel ribs cracking as he took a branch square in the chest, his injuries that had finally stopped bleeding tearing open again as he was knocked about.

He crashed into the ground with thud that knocked the breath from his lungs.

For probably an hour he just lay there, agony lacing through his body as he stared up at the now masked sky.

He moaned softly.

He didn't want to move. He didn't.

What was the point?

But Thor's voice echoed in his mind, warm and beckoning.

"Come on, Brother."

With a sharp hiss of breath Loki dragged himself up, bracing himself against the tree trunk as he got to his feet.

Breathing raggedly Loki leaned against it, closing his eyes, picturing Thor in his mind.

Thor's summer blue eyes, scrunching slightly when he smiled.

Thor's first wispy beard hairs that he was so fond of showing off.

Thor standing on the trail and beckoning Loki with a brawny hand, then his face falling in uneasiness.

The desperation in Thor's voice as he called for Loki to come back.

Opening his green eyes, Loki began walking, limping slightly, following a straight line to where he knew intuitively Thor to be.

He didn't stray from his course, climbing over logs and boulders and forcing his way through thickets of thorny brambles, their limbs scratching his skin and catching in his hair.
One foot in front of the other, and drops of blood splattered the footprints behind him.

When he came to the river, he murmured a word under his breath as he kept walking, boots finding purchase on the air just above the flowing water, and Loki walked straight over it.

There was a splashing, and he turned his head calmly as a sea serpent sprung out of the current, gaping maw open wide to bite him and drag him down.
Loki waved his hand, and the serpent froze in midair, murky black scales glistening wetly in the dim light.

Tilting his head slightly, Loki blew it a kiss, and suddenly flames skittered over the creature's long body, digging their fingers into its tender and sensitive flesh.

He kept walking over the river, and it dropped in with a splash behind him, the water doing nothing to quench the flames as the serpent burned alive.

Reaching the other side he kept on up the forested slope, slow and steady.

But he felt like a waterfall.

Morning sunlight kissed Thor's forehead, and he blinked, eyes bleary as he sat up, rubbing a hand across his face.

He packed up his things and made it probably three steps up the trail before he stopped, frowning.

Getting to the top of the mountain suddenly felt like an empty triumph.

Petty.

He turned his back on the peak and walked back the way he'd come.

It wasn't long though before the clenching of his stomach continued to tighten, and he suddenly had the distinct feeling he was moving to slow, and so he began to run down the hill, shouting Loki's name as he went.

It could have been moments, hours, but it felt like forever, an eternity of wading through brambles and trees, an eternity of pain tingling through his body, making his breath come in harsh gasps as he continued onwards.

He couldn't stop.

Not now.

The hill inclined steeper and steeper until he was forced to use his hands, clambering up side of the valley like an animal, shoulder blades moving like a cat's as his fingers and boots dug into the moist soil and he crept forwards.

"Loki!"

He paused, raising his head, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him again.

It came again. "Loki! Loki, where are you?!"

Hope fluttered like a thrush in his ribcage, and Loki's listless eyes sparked.

He tried to call back, to tell Thor that he's here, but his voice cracked and died in his throat, coating his tongue like ash.

Thor was so busy turning his head this way and that as he looked for his brother that he didn't notice the tree until he ran straight into it.

He stumbled backwards, falling onto his butt as his hand flew up to rub his nose, shaking his head to clear the stars bursting before his eyes.

He'd made it almost to the junction where Loki had split off, and it was already afternoon and panic continued to burgeon in his chest until is was bordering on hysteria, vining around the trellis of his ribs like wisteria.

There was a soft rustling of bushes, and Thor glanced up just as Loki stumbled out of the bracken, and for a moment he was frozen, staring.

Loki was haggard, leathers ripped and torn, the dark material glistening sanguine in the sun, a shade that could only come from being saturated with blood.

There were thorny branches stuck in Loki's onyx hair, framing his head like a crown even as they clawed his skin and sent drips of blood trickling down his wan face.

Exhaustion was plain in his eyes, strangely dull and rimmed by dark circles, and his expression was blank, lips parted slightly and breaths harsh.

But he held himself with impeccable stature, chin raised defiantly, looking every bit wasted, and almost regal, strangely, like he'd been through Helheim and survived; and he knew he would do it again.
He looked feral.

How had all this managed to come about in the course of a single day and night? Thor wondered in horror, which must have shown on his face, for Loki dropped his eyes.

The next thing Thor knew he was on his feet and rushing over, catching Loki in his arms and pulling him close, careful to be gentle so as to not further worsen his little brother's wounds.

"Oh Loki," he breathed, at a loss for words.

There was a moment's pause, before he felt Loki's arms snakes around him, fingers wrapping in the material of his vest.

Loki's voice was choked and broken as he whispered "I'm a failure, Thor. A monster."

"No," Thor said, shaking his head as he put his hands on Loki's shoulders and pulled back to stare at him, brushing a drop of blood before it could drip into those intense green eyes. "No Loki.

"You're a King."

Loki blinked, his mind seeming to work uncharacteristically slowly as his eyebrows came together, trying to figure out what in the Nine Realms Thor meant by that.

"And you're a delusional fool," he rasped finally.

Thor shook his head. "No; I'm your lionheart."

He took Loki's thin hand in his own, meeting that emerald gaze unwaveringly, so that he knew his brother couldn't doubt the truth of his words.

"And I'll always be there for you."

Thor knelt on one knee, a fist clasped over his chest, smiling softly. "My King."

Loki's eyebrows pulled together and raised, forehead creasing; and it was an expression of such lost confusion that Thor felt his heart wrench.

Loki shook his head, dark hair sweeping into his face. "Rise," he said.

Thor did. "We should go back," he said, reaching to remove the branches from Loki's hair, only to be stopped by a pale hand around his wrist.

"No," Loki said. "I..." he lowered his eyes, before raising them again, an almost childish hope in his face. "I'd like to see the view from the top of the mountain..."

Thor looked at him for a moment, scrutinizing him, before he finally nodded in consent. "As you wish, Brother."

Thor strode steadily up the path, carrying Loki on his back, the younger's arms draped about his neck, Thor's arms holding beneath Loki's knees, the lanky legs wrapped around his torso above his waist.

Loki's eyes were closed, and he let his chin rest on his brother's shoulder, cool breath tickling Thor's ear.

The moon was just peaking above the darkened horizon when Thor spoke softly. "What happened?"

Loki tensed, and Thor thought for a minute that Loki would refuse to tell him, like he'd always done with his nightmares.

But then Loki began to speak, voice low and silver.

And Thor listened.

Soft, even breathing against Thor's neck informed him that his brother had fallen asleep, and he gave a small, sad smile.

Loki had finished his tale, ending with "Do you still love me, Brother?"

"I'll always love you, Loki," Thor had answered. "Always."

It had pained Thor to hear about what Loki had gone through, knowing that he had driven Loki to run away and hadn't been there to protect him. But he couldn't help but feel a sort of awe at how his brother had handled it.

Loki was far from the weakling other always took him for.

Thor plowed on throughout the night, reaching the lookout spot at the mountain's peak just as the sun began to rise, and Loki stirred.
"We're here," Thor said gently, and Loki's eyes snapped open.

Thor lowered him to the ground, and two of them sat on the edge of the outlook, a cropping of rocks that jutted out just below the very peak, their feet dangling in the air of the edge.

He draped an arm over Loki's shoulders as they watched the sun rise over Asgard.

The moon hung, a silver crescent in hazy stripes of orange and green and cobalt, the shades dark and robust.

Slowly it melted away bands of peach and baby blue, the sun shining with all its brilliance upon the golden palace, which looked phantasmal in the distance, perched on the very edge of Asgard with the black backdrop of space behind it, making it shine all the brighter.

Everything was so, so small.

The sunlight reached over the rolling green hills below their feet, creeping up the mountains until it finally moved up their legs, breaking over their heads in a wave of warmth.
"This is the throne of the world," Thor determined, grinning. "And we are Kings."

Loki snorted. "You know there can only be one King, and that it will be you."

"Maybe," Thor admitted reluctantly, before brightening. "But once I'm King, I'll changed the law, so that there can be two Kings! And you shall rule beside me!"
"You're a sentimental fool."

"No I'm not," Thor said stubbornly. "Who's to stop me if I want to do such a thing? I think we both know I'll bungle up political affairs without you."
Loki mumbled something incoherent, letting his head lean back against Thor's shoulder.

He suddenly looked bewildered as Thor tilted his head to stare down at him, expression now serious.

"So don't you ever run away from me again," Thor said, something haunted flickering in the empyrean of his cerulean eyes. "Because I can't lose you."
Loki blinked. "You have my word," he said after a moment.

"Good," Thor said. He stared out over Asgard once more, thinking that perhaps he could see the bifrost stretching out into space, before he stood up, allowing Loki his pride in getting to his feet without assistance despite his injuries.

When Loki winced, Thor winced.

"Come on," Thor said, crouching down so Loki could get onto his back. "Let's go home."

As Thor began walking back down the mountain, Loki reached his left hand up, beginning to take the crown of thorny brambles from his hair, drawing more bloody scratches on his face and fingers in the process.

He caught sight of the raised burn on his arm, the rune stinging with a reminder of flames.

King.

Loki smiled crookedly.

I hope you enjoyed!

And I'd love to hear your thoughts ;3