Shadows.

There was a distinct pop that came along with the pressure release as muzzle that had silenced Loki was finally removed from him by his mother. They stood in the rich tones of the throne room, surrounded by guards, to await his sentencing as to be declared by Odin. His brother was not admitted entrance to the room but the boy’s stares were felt hard from behind the ornate closed doors as the light filtered in through the stained glass windows to wash the room over in a heavenly glow of reds, greens, and yellows.

With a wry smile Freya prompted her son to close his eyes as she gently ran a hand through his jet black hair, trying not to pull on the matts that were left in it by grease, dirt, and blood. Loki sighed at the comforting affect his mother brought upon him like the woolen blanket of a child’s bed. The gesture brought back reminders of the many nights when she would come in to comfort her son of his nightmares, lighting his lamps and singing him lullabies. When he opened his eyes he was motioned to come forward by the guards that stood at either side of Odin’s throne. He went forward alone and silent, with the guards standing stout at the sides of his pathway forward. Loki stopped a few feet from the foot of Odin’s throne and kept his gaze downward at the tile working of the floor with a thin smirk
on his face.

“Why do you smile, my boy?” Odin asked from above where he sat forward upon his chair.

Loki responded by looking up at the king merely with his eyes as the smirk still graced his lips. There was a growing tension that broke the silence as it crackled in the warm air of the room as Loki’s eyes made contact with Odin’s. The boy chuckled.

“Loki. This is not a time for jokes,” Odin began to speak over the laughter that was now spilling from Loki to echo off of the rafters above. “This is a serious matter. You do not stand here before me in celebration.”

“Oh, or do I, now?” Loki managed between his laughs as he gave Odin the full view of his cut and smiling face.

“Loki….”

The laughter ceased as he glared up at his king with an air of confusion about his lips. “I do believe that you have never wished for anything more then to see me in these chains. To throw me away and forget about me. I dare say, Odin, that you’ve dreamed of my shortcomings wishing them to reach such a severity that you had no choice but to throw me off into a cage somewhere dark and cold. And now your day of rejoice has come, has it not?”

“That is no way to think of me, I would never wish that upon a child of mine.” Odin stood up at the accusations, clearly offended, as he spat the words at the boy below his throne.

“I am not your son!” Loki recoiled in with his shout sending the guards who stood closest to him flying through the air to crash against columns. The others rushed him, weapons readied.

“Don’t.” Odin ordered from above as he sat back down and placed his head in his hands. “Just…” He sighed with the frustration of the weight upon him. “Just take him back to his room, I’ve yet to decide.”

---

The bedroom that Loki was held in was the same as it had always been. The floors were a soft gold, covered in a large dark brown rug, and the walls were made of soft, gray stone covered in oil paintings. Deep green silks decorated the windows that looked over the large courtyard of the palace. The bed was the main feature of the room, putting even the fireplace to shame, as it’s ornate canopy screamed it’s alliance like a raised flag; golden, green and black in color. For all of the luxury though, it was a cold room of stone to him. It was the same room he was always told to await punishment in.

Loki sighed from where he sat on his bed, allowing himself to fall back and drop the book he was trying to read, and looked to the clock that hung across from him. It had been five hours, two of which were past dinner time. On nights like these dinner never came. He stood then to blow out the candles that hung in iron sconces by the entry to his room. A single lantern lit the room now, bathing the features of it in a soft glow. Without care he stripped of his leather coat to the soft, cotton undershirt below and tossed it on the floor. His boots came off next to lay somewhere in front of his coat as he made his way back to the bed.

There was a knock at the door.

Loki ignored it and continued his trek back over to where he could lay down in the plush downs and silks of his bed, hoping that they would calm the ache in his head. However just as he managed to sit, the knock came again.

“Go away.” He mumbled as he pulled up the soft comforter to his collar bones.

“But, brother, please…?”

He sighed, ignoring the pleas of his brother, and rolled over in the soft bed to gaze out the window at the two moons as they just barely broke over the palace rooftop to grace the courtyard with their approving presence. The doorknob jiggled.

“Loki, I-I’m coming in…!” Thor’s whisper was frantic as he continued to fumble with the door that was held tight by Loki’s magic. “Now.”

With an audible groan Loki let his hand waft lazily through the air by his face, removing the strength that he had given to the door’s lock. There was a large crash as Thor tumbled into the room, tripping over Loki’s coat, the bright light streaming in from the doorway behind him like a halo. Loki jumped up at the noise just in time to see his brother catch, drop, and catch again the platter in his hands. Loki quickly slammed the door and resealed it.

“Just what do you want?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re going to get both of us beat.”

You’re going to get us both beat. Loki chewed on his words remembering the countless nights of his childhood that he had spent pacing the floors of the very room he was in when he had been involved with some conflict or another that was punishable as his brother fixed himself proper once more a few feet from the doorway. Thor held a platter of silver that was dressed in what smelled like a small feast from the distance away.

“I thought you might be hungry.” Thor spoke as he made his way over to where his brother sat beneath his bed clothes.

He tripped over the boots, once again nearly losing the food on the plate, and stomped around trying to regain his balance. Loki supported his brothers back the best he could after the long day’s toll, working his force smooth over Thor’s broad shoulders. Once he regained his balance Thor made his way over to sit on the unoccupied side of his brother’s ornate bed. He passed the silver platter over to Loki, offering him the small, still warm, feast that sat on it in no particular order after almost spilling twice.

“I’m sorry I was so severe about entering, but there are guards patrolling your hallway.” Thor whispered as Loki tried to make sense of the mess of a meal.

“I suppose I should say thank you.” Loki’s reply was just as quiet in the small light of the lamp that sat upon the table beside him.

They sat in silence as he ate, grateful for the thought behind the silver platter that sat on his lap. Across its elegant face various meats and vegetables were strewn out in a mosaic of abstract beauty that were highlighted by the orangey light of the oil lamp. When he finished the platter Thor took it back softly to place it on the opposite night stand and then moved closer to his brother, enclosing Loki’s hand in his.

“We need to talk.” Thor spoke gently as he was captured by his brother’s lively, deep green eyes.

Slowly, Loki took his hand back from Thor’s warmth and hid it under the blankets that still covered his lower half, “I don’t believe that we do, Thor.”

“He plans to imprison you, they all do.” The words spilled from Thor’s lips in a soft frenzy and he grabbed Loki by his shoulders. “I can’t keep them from it, brother. Their numbers are too strong.”

“I know.”

Thor’s hands were warm on his shoulders as they sat quietly in each other’s company covered by the comfort of the lamp light. Nimbly and with purpose Loki repositioned himself beside his brother, pushing the blankets from his lap to sit sideways on his knees as to better peer into Thor’s eyes. A storm was raging in them; a hurricane of massive proportions bellowed through his blue irises begging to defend his brother, ripping apart waves and lightening behind his façade of tranquility towards Loki.

“Do you remember, brother,” Loki began with a desperate, crooked smile, “when we were children and we would trick the others, together? With my magic and your looks? And how, how afterwards, once Odin found out, we would be placed here in our rooms and told to wait upon our punishment?”

Thor nodded vigorously like an excited puppy ready to see where Loki’s soliloquy was going.

“And how you would merely be lectured, but I beat?” Loki snarled in a low voice, spitting, to avoid drawing attention to his room. “How you were held in the light of never-wrong and I. How I was somehow the one to take all the blame, how I was the one who corrupted you when in reality, you corrupted me with that damnable smile of yours?”

Quickly Thor threw his brother down onto the bed and recoiled at his words, hurt by their sharpness. Loki’s head hit the table behind him with a loud crack that knocked the light source to the floor as it snuffed out, but he paid no mind to it and instead he curled up into himself as his brother sprang upon him though the smoke and sparks of the dying oil lamp. Thor was careful atop his brother, holding up the younger’s head from the hard wood that was behind him. Still, Loki gave no attention to his brother, instead he sobbed into his own hands mumbling about the shadows that had haunted him since childhood. His brother hushed him, taking him fully into his arms and placing a soft kiss upon his forehead.

Thor held his brother tenderly allowing the younger to sob into his chest. Loki shook with the force of his tears and as he gasped for air Thor drew him in closer, trying desperately to get him to calm down. He ran his hands through the thick, carbon colored hair that littered Loki’s face to keep it from sticking to the hot tears that rushed down from his eyes as he shuddered. After a few moments his sobs lessened into whimpers while his brother rocked him gently.

“Loki,“ Thor’s words were fragile as he propped his brother up to look him over, “brother, please. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

Loki looked up at his brother though bloodshot eyes and finally let him see through the cracks of his wall that he still held up strongly. He was cold in Thor’s arms, against his warmth, keeping himself separate where he couldn’t be hurt by the elder.

“Let me draw you a bath.” A thumb was gently drug across the trail of tears that still fell from Loki’s eyes.

Thor got up, setting Loki down on the silken pillows, and covered his brother with the warm comforter. As his brother disappeared from view Loki curled up into himself, pulling his knees up to his chest, and stuffed his eyes into the pillow below his head. His breathing filtered thickly through the pillow as he tried desperately to shove the shadows from behind his eyes. It was dark, it was cold; it was his birthright. He laid there in silence, surrounded by luxury, hidden in the darkness except for the vibrancy of his eyes, engulfed in the chill that it brought.

A few minutes later his brother reappeared from the attached bathroom and lifted him up to his feet. His legs were weak on the hard ground below him causing Thor to support his back as the pair walked towards the soft glow that the bathroom emanated from the open doorway.

When they entered they were bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, which covered every inch of the room, some in scones and others merely atop plates. Steam rose from the bath that awaited him, made less of water and more of tea as flowers and oils floated fragilely atop the surface tension. Loki stood before it still clothed except for his coat and boots completely engulfed by the intoxicating aroma that the waters gave lift to. From behind Thor took Loki’s hand into his.

“This is a woman’s bath.” Loki spoke calmly from somewhere distant.

“It will help your head.” Thor’s voice was strong in assurance as he let his hands migrate to rest on his brother’s shoulders.

Loki relaxed into the elder’s palms, melting himself against the reassurance they put forth to the integrity of the bath. He found himself lost in the intoxication of the room; his tongue went soft, his eyes shut, and he allowed his head to hang. His walls had finally crumbled to the feet of his brother.

The hands moved then from his shoulders, the right one replaced by Thor’s head, to relocate to his waist. They stayed there for a while, the thumbs drawing small circles on the cold flesh just above Loki’s pant line. They kept quiet, each afraid that if they spoke the spell of the room would be lifted from their eyes prematurely. Thor placed a small kiss on the porcelain skin of his brother’s exposed collarbone. Loki sank into it, drowning in its comfort and silently begging the lips not to part from his skin.

Thor’s hands thrusted upwards, under his brother’s shirt, spreading calloused veins of warmth through his torso, to free his skin of the cotton garment. Illuminated by the glow of the candles the cuts and nicks across Loki’s chest glowed a cherry red against his pale skin, the largest of them covered in a browning gauze. Thor dropped the shirt limp on the ground below him and then made haste of his brother’s pants before guiding the boy into the bath.

The water burned against Loki’s skin but he liked it. It warmed him wholly in ways that nothing else ever could as he laid back into the depths, allowing them to cover him completely just barely playing with the tips of his hair. Candles sat on the sides of the tub, just begging to be touched by Loki’s fragile fingertips, but he resisted the urge and instead sank lower into the water to cover his mouth. The heat was almost uncomfortable against the wounds that littered his body as the water seeped into them like a healing salve. Suddenly a leg came down in front of him. Thor stood in the tub, topless but with thin pants still covering his lower half, pushing the water over the edge and snuffing out a few of the smaller candles that were lit. He satG in front of Loki with a tentative smile.

Without speaking Thor prompted his brother to sit up and turn around to lean against the older’s chest. Even in his brother’s arms he was distant, off in another place of peace and self-acceptance, a place of numbing denial. Softly Thor hummed as he cupped water and draped it over Loki’s hair to watch the dirt and blood pour down into the bath, staining it a pinky red.

“There were good times, too, Loki.” He whispered into his brother’s ear, allowing his tongue to
flicker over its lobe. “Gentle ones, ones of love. Please tell me you do remember them.”

But the words didn’t faze Loki from where he sat leaned against Thor’s chest. He remembered, though, the times that when Freya was told to ignore his cries, how his brother would sneak quietly into his room and bring with him the warm light of a thousand fire flies. Thor’s very presence would calm his night terrors of being lost in a world of icy isolation. He remembered how Thor would wipe away his tears and hold him close under the covers, whispering sweet assurances into his ear in an attempt to calm him down. He remembered how, when it was decided that he was too old to be comforted, Thor would always catch his falls. How his brother would come into his very world and calm his angers, wipe his tears, and protect him from the world that was slowly crashing down around him. He remembered how soft his lips were against his forehead, his wounds; his lips.

Thor gently played with Loki’s hair once it came clean, braiding it in places, to keep himself occupied in his own memories of the nights that he used to spend with his brother in soft intimacy. He sighed at his brother’s unresponsiveness. The candles flickered shadows across the vastness of the room. And then with a gentle precision Loki turned himself around to return the favour and began to wet down Thor’s hair, even offering his crooked smile.

Tenderly Loki bathed down his brother on his knees, kissing him tenderly each time the water fell the wrong way and into his eyes. The water scalded as it fell between their chests gracing the wounds that they boasted after the struggle that took place not even weeks ago. Watching the shadows that danced across Loki’s face Thor dove his hands into the younger’s hair, disheveling the fresh braids and halting what had become a routine. Gradually, driven by their memories of desire, they moved closer to each other until their lips locked in a sweltering kiss. When they parted Loki was breathless, shocked by his own intimacy. How long had it been since they last kissed? Thor smiled lazily and stood from the warmth that the waters provided and offered his brother a hand to pull himself up. Loki took the offer, throwing himself around the elder to bury his face into the crook of Thor’s neck.

“I know.” He whispered shakily upon Thor’s collarbone.

There was a knock on the door just after Thor managed to pull Loki’s shirt back over his head, his hands resting on the boy’s thin hips. It was not an asking knock, but rather a telling one as the main door swung open to crash against the oil painting that hung beside it on the stone wall. Four guards rushed in weapons ready to corner the boys in the bathroom with their general walking nonchalantly behind them. The troop parted to either side of the bathroom entrance, hidden from the light that the candles provided, to allow the general to walk through the lit path. He held up shackles for Thor.

“Chain him.”