Chapter Text
Thor paced through his rooms. His mother, Frigga, was worried about Loki. The doors to his brother’s rooms were locked and no one, not even the healers had been able to coax Loki from his sanctuary. It was not as if Thor had expected his brother to want to see any of them. Even if Loki was in Asgaurd, which Thor suspected that he had yet to return from Midgaurd, he knew that Loki would not want anyone hovering around him in his injured state. Frigga had been to Thor on three separate occasions, asking if he had been able to speak with his brother. He had made up a shaky lie about having seen to Loki the night before. It had only assuaged his mother’s worry slightly and now he was starting to worry himself. Loki was in no condition to be traveling between realms, he needed care and rest. What could a Midgaurdian child do to help someone as wounded as his brother?
The Warriors Three were sitting in front of the fire with Sif gazing out of one of the large windows. They were stiff, each sore from their own injuries. The room felt off, quiet and still, in a way that Thor had never experienced after a victorious battle. This war had been so different from the others they had fought. Their victory had not been swift; the violence had been so much crueler than anything he had seen. He had always loved the rush of fighting, but this weighed on him, Loki’s torment weighed on him.
Sif turned to face the room, her eyes falling on Thor as he paced. A thin pink scar ran from her temple across her cheek. It would heal over time, disappear into porcelain white of her skin, but the fear she felt as the blade sliced down her face would never fade. She had rushed the Elves dragging an unconscious bloodied Loki further into their camp. His face had been almost unrecognizable tinged with blue. It was that image that haunted her dreams now. She had failed him.
Hogun paced in front of Fandral. They had been with Thor when Sif brought the news about Loki’s capture. Thor had been silent. A seething hateful silence that crackled in the air. The skies had darkened with his anger. It was the first time Hogun and Fandral had actually feared Thor. His battlefield prowess was legend, but he had always had control. At the news of his brother’s capture he was lost. All his strength could not save Loki from what was to come, and they feared the rash actions that might come of this new anger. Their worries had not been idle concerns and now Loki had the scars to prove it.
It was Volstagg who knew the real extent of the injuries. He had been the one to carry the prince from the camp, and he was not sharing what he had seen. He was sitting still starring into his tankard of mead, barely touching the side of boar on the great table. Volstagg was distant from the room his mind still at the darkened hillside where Loki had been kept. Neither food nor drink could pull him from that moment, and now the prince refused the comfort of company. Undeserved guilt tinged the lenses of his thoughts, if only he could do something more, but Loki wanted time to lick his wounds in solitude and Volstagg would give him that.
Thor didn’t feel the same, but he kept Loki’s visits to other realms quiet. He wanted his brother close. The distance made him feel as useless as he had been in the negotiations, and so he paced. At least it helped ease the frantic buzz in his veins, if not the worry in his heart. Thor turned on his heel, moving towards the door when two guards appeared.
“Heimdal requests your presence,” The guards nodded once and took their leave.
The warriors turned to look at Thor their faces masks of confusion. He left without explanation, walking briskly through the palace to the Bifrost. Heimdal stood tall his back facing the rainbow bridge. The Gatekeeper did not look turn to look at Thor He simply began speaking.
“You have been troubled my prince,” He continued to stare out into the abyss. “Your brother’s health weighing on you?”
“Is he safe?” Thor’s concern outweighed any formality. “Does he need help getting home?”
“No my prince,” Heimdal continued staring into the stars.
“Then why have you called me here? If there is nothing I can do what is the point?” Thor’s voice rumbled like thunder in the dome of the Bifrost echoing his distress back at him.
“Loki is in good hands my prince.” Heimdal turned to Thor, his golden eyes sharp. “I have watched the girl for some time; she cares for him.”
“What can a child do that all the healers of Asgaurd cannot?” Thor paced the glinting chamber of the Bifrost. “He needs to be home, where we can protect him, where I…”
“Prince, I do not think it wise to intervene between your brother and the mortal. Loki has always need his space, certainly now.” Thor looked at Heimdal not wishing to hear the truth, but it was sinking in despite his displeasure. “Would it truly serve your brother to take from him his comfort?”
“You are wise Heimdal,” Thor looked out into the expansive void before him. “But what of his family? What comfort does this give our mother?”
“It is not our Queen that is need,” Heimdal turned back to the stars. “It is my duty to watch over this realm, to protect it from harm. Loki has done great things for this kingdom, give him time.”
Thor stalked away from the gatekeeper back down the bridge, his heart leaded with worry. Heimdal was right, but how much longer could it really last, humans were so fragile. This attachment would only hurt Loki later.