Brothers

Loki was sentenced to death.
The trial had gone on nearly a month, taking much longer than the swift Asgardian justice system usually did. There were varied interpretations of Loki's actions on Midgard, polarized by deliberation and argument. Some demanded millennium of torture and degradation, and others called for pardons and even decoration. Thor was unsure of which side he was on; the good and loving brother within him wanted the rehabilitation of his poor, misguided brother, but the king-elect inside respected the judicial system and intended full penance for the God of Chaos.
Neither of these dichotomies ever desired capital punishment, so when the sentence came down, Thor was awestruck.
His execution was set for dusk the coming day and anything past that Thor did not hear.
"Death..." he exhaled, feeling all his thunder pass out of him by the simple words, "Brother...death..." Most of the courtroom was stoic and solemn at the announcement, with few gasping or whooping at the news. Odin slammed Gungnir's blunt end on the ground to regain order, but Thor did not notice. His eyes seemed to fly in a frenzy before settling on his beloved brother, still shackled and gagged, staring calmly up at his just-proclaimed executioners. Court adjourned, and Loki was led out of the courtroom by four guards.
"Visitation begins in an hour, for any who would like to bid farewell to the condemned." the judge added, more to the Allfather and his family than anyone else. Frigga stood, ringing her hands together and sighing. Odin bore no emotion as he exited the courtroom, and Thor watched him leave before shaking off his stupor and following his mother wordlessly. He thought he heard the Warriors Three speaking false condolences, Sif offering her support and gently patting his arm, but the God of Thunder just wandered the corridors away from the courtroom, eventually ending up on a balcony overlooking the main courtyard. Down below, Aesir were rushing back and forth from one another, bringing news of the "traitor's execution." Thor could not tolerate their spiteful, ignorant words carried up by the wind and left the balcony, moving towards the visitation rooms. Frigga was already outside with two of the posted guards. She said nothing, wrapping her arms around her eldest son, and he automatically returned the embrace, not really registering what was going on.
"Be strong, my son," she said calmly, before drawing back and looking towards the guards. One opened the door, and she stepped inside, leaving Thor in the hallway.
He paced quietly, head swimming as he started regaining cognition after the initial numbness of the shock. Loki, dead, dead and gone, for real this time. All the emotions, all the mourning from after he thought Loki was lost at the shattering of the Bifrost resurfaced, and he banged his fist into the wall. The guards stiffened, and Thor took a deep shuddering breath, trying to remain calm. Frigga emerged, looking as composed as always though not her eyes. Her eyes spoke with sorrow. She gave a slight nod to Thor. He dipped his head, and made his way inside.
The room was octagonal and simple, the only decorations four mirrors on every other wall, a chair and a small couch and a table. Loki sat on the couch, arms still chained and mouth covered with metal. The sight of it made Thor's knees wobble slightly. His brother looked weary, the imprisonment and trial's toll evident on his face, but his eyes were bright and watchful, albeit masking any emotion.
"Give me the keys." Thor addressed the guards outside.
"But, sir-" one began, but upon seeing Thor's hardened features relinquished the keys and shut the door quietly.
Thor made his way to the other side of the couch, taking his brother's face in his hands and gently removing the metal mask. Loki made no noise or indication of approval, merely tilting his head down to look at the steel manacles. Thor unlocked them next, letting the fall to the floor but letting his hands linger over his brother's wrists. Deliberately, Loki lowered his forehead to Thor's collarbone, connecting tiredly with cold, metallic armor. Thor tightened his grip around his brothers hands and exhaled, marvelling at how thin and icy his brother had become. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, before Loki sighed and straightened up, emerald eyes boring into his brother, lips slightly parted.
"Thor," the Trickster's voice crackled from disuse. He cleared his throat and continued steadily, "Do you trust me?"
"I do." Thor replied after taking a deep breath, "I would trust you to the end of this realm, my brother."
Loki smiled slightly, "Still? After all these things that I have done?"
"Yes, I do not believe I could ever mistrust you."
"No, I meant, still call me your 'brother.'" Melancholy surfaced in Loki's downcast eyes. Thor felt something inside him crack, but he remained silent.
"Could I..." Loki began after a short silence, "Let me do something for you, Thor."
Thor nodded, still too disconsolate to be suspicious of his brother.
"Turn around." Thor obliged as Loki magicked a simple black comb out of the air. Slowly and placidly, the Trickster brushed out his brother's blond hair, tugging at the knots and unweaving the tangles. Not until Thor's hair shone like perfectly spun gold did he set the comb on the table quietly. Taking all of the hair back, he divided it up into three equal parts and began braiding it.
Another wave of memories hit Thor, this time from his and Loki's shared childhood. Loki always wanted to set his nimble fingers upon anything and everything, fidgeting and weaving and braiding. He usually helped Frigga with her plaits, but the jealous Thor wanted to monopolize his adored brothers attention, so Loki's fingers turned to him, intricate patterns finding their way upon Thor's head in the morning only to be undone by the day's play. Eventually it stopped, a side-effect of the split between Thor's warrior ways and Loki's affinity for mischief. All the time spent squirming in their vanity chair while Loki went to work flooded back into him, and manifested itself in nostalgic tears swimming before the God of Thunder's cerulean eyes. He blinked to try and dispel them, but upon looking up he spotted their reflection in the mirror. Brows slightly knit in concentration, yet eyes drowning in sorrow, Loki's hands were the only things moving. Loki tied a small string of leather around the end and whispered a small incantation to keep the plait set.
"All done." Loki said quietly, drawing back from his handiwork. "It should stay in place lest another sorcerer undoes my tiny spell." Thor turned back to his brother and reached around to touch his new braid.
"Thank you." Thor murmured, looking timidly at his brother, hoping that his tears were not too evident. Loki opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then shut it again and looked away.
"My poor brother," Thor began, voice dripping with sincere sympathy, "Has the fear of death robbed you of your words?"
The corners of Loki's mouth tugged upwards. "I have never feared death, for it is what everyone and everything shall eventually face." His voice dropped low and his eyes turned downwards again, "Nay, I'm afraid of losing you."
Thor felt another blow to his heart with this admittance, and without thinking his powerful arms came forward and locked the other man in a firm, almost crushing embrace. At first tensed in surprise, the God of Lies melted into his brother's eyes, hands scrabbling at Thor's back and tears falling from his eyes for the first time since his return to Asgard. They both began to sob openly, tears and feelings and lost time falling freely onto each other.
No words were passed until one of the guards knocked on the door and yelled that there were only ten minutes remaining before visitation was over. The raven haired man was the first to pull away, albeit reluctantly. Tears streaked down his pale face, green eyes rimmed with red. He set his jaw and inhaled loudly.
"Thor," His voice shuttered from all the crying and he tried to recompose himself, "Thor, I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I deceived you and caused you and mother and father so much pain," Loki spoke hurriedly, breathless and raspy, "I'm sorry I blamed you. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't father's fault, it was-" he swallowed hard again, and was racked by another sob, slender fingers clamping onto Thor's arms like trembling vises, "It was me, it was all me. I'm so sorry." Loki collapsed into Thor again, overtaken by grieving.
"No, brother," Thor shushed him softly, "It is no one's fault, and it is everyone's fault." Thor slowly comforted Loki, letting him know he forgave him but never blamed him. Loki then concentrated on recollection of self, breathing deeply with his forehead pressed once again into the crook of his brother's neck.
The door clicked loudly, in comparison to the silent room, and Loki drew back swiftly, straightening his garments and reaching for the shackles and keys as the guards entered.
"No." Thor grabbed his wrist, "You will not spend your last living hours in chains." But he was looking at the guards, who exchanged quizzical looks before accepting the order.
"We are to go to the dressing chambers," one guard said. Thor gulped. He had nearly forgotten that death-row criminals were usually dressed and prepped for their funerals before their executions.
"Very well, but I shall accompany my brother every step of the way." Thor said, standing and straightening his back to full height.
"Understood," the guard said uneasily, and the four of them headed out of the room. The hallway was deserted except for the two extra transport guards at the doorway. They walked in pairs, two guards, their princes, and two more guards, heading away from the hall of justice and it's dungeons and visiting rooms towards the dressing rooms. Moving through an open corridor lining a dining hall, the inhabitants of the hall gasped and pointed and gossiped at their passing. Loki looked shaken by their leering, trying to stare each of them down.
"Brother, do not let them get to you." Thor whispered, "They only wish ignorant, misguided harm at you."
"Perhaps they are justified." Loki would not look him in the eye.
Thor took his brother's pale hand in his large, calloused one, spurned by the memories of their childhood, waltzing down the halls and through the gardens, hands locked together. Inseparable. Thor felt another pang of sorrow, but Loki did not pull his hand away. Down below, the Aesir who were watching threw up another round of gasps and gossips, but Thor strode on proudly.
As proudly as he could for one who was leading his most dearest brother to his death.

Notes