Brothers
There was no one Loki loved more than his brother. Thor was the bright spot, the focus amidst the confusing blur of his life. Someone to lean on and trust. They fought, as all brothers do, but no matter how fiercely, they were family.
For example, when Thor accidentally ripped Loki’s stuffed wolf. It was a terrible fight with shouting, screaming, tears, and possibly a bloody nose. It doesn’t matter whose (It was Loki’s). What matters is that despite the anger and the vicious whirlwind of flailing fists and limbs that they had become, they still loved each other afterwards. They made up and shared a bag of sweets not three minutes later, still bleeding and everything.
When Sif decided to be Thor’s friend, but not Loki’s (because sharing was still a skill they were learning at the time), that too was a fight. One which Sif oversaw with a smug little smile on her face because she was being fought over by princes. Thor had always been physically stronger, so he won that fight. A few bruises and grass stains were received on both sides, but ultimately it was Loki who ended up on the bottom, breathing hard and tearstained. Sif was Thor’s friend, and she could wrestle him to the ground.
The sting of that fight lasted longer because really Loki hadn’t been fighting for Sif, not that Thor knew that. More accurately, Loki had been fighting against her. Thor was his friend, had always been his friend. Now he had new ones, but Loki did not. Loki didn't care about Sif, or Hogun, Or Volstagg, or Fandral. He only cared that Thor didn’t need him the way he needed Thor. So he got angry. He got angry, and when he returned to their room alone, he took it out on Thor’s blanket. This sparked another fight, but they made up, the blanket was fixed, and they were brothers once again, giggling in the dark instead of sleeping as they were supposed to be.
They were seven when the boys first heard the word ‘heir.’ The family stood together in the great hall to welcome their noble guests. A Lord and Lady from a far off Asgardian civilization, and their daughter Idunn.
Odin greeted them and introduced the princes. “These are my sons. My heir: Thor, and Loki.”
The family bowed or curtsied. Idunn peered shyly at them with wide blue eyes from behind her mother’s skirts. Loki made a face at her causing her to squeal. Thor jabbed him sharply with his elbow. Loki scowled, rubbing the bruise reproachfully.
The visitors stayed for a week, eating at their table. However, other than their presence at dinner, Loki’s life remained unchanged during their stay. Idunn entertained herself with Sif. Occasionally Thor would play with them, and Loki would be left on his own. Sometimes when Loki was left behind he would find their mother. She knew magic and Loki loved to watch her cast illusions and spells.
“Can I do that?” he would ask.
“You can do anything, you put your mind to,” Frigga would answer.
He sat watching her create fireworks right in her hand when he asked a question that had been bugging him all week: “What does ‘heir’ mean?”
His mother paused her illusions, looking down at him with a sigh. As if she knew this conversation had been inevitable. “An heir is someone who will inherit a position or valuable object from someone else,” she explained.
“And Thor is father’s?” Why wasn’t Loki? Why was Thor always the favorite?
“Yes. One day, Thor will inherit the throne and become king.”
“Why aren’t I the heir?” Loki asked. He was too young to fully grasp what it meant for Thor to become king, all he knew was that for some reason, his father thought him ill-fitted for being an heir. That was what bothered him. Was there something wrong with him? Was Thor better somehow? Why wasn’t Loki an heir?
His mother smiled at him, “You were born to be a king, Loki, same as your brother, but the crown goes to the oldest.”
“Why?”
“That’s tradition.”
From that day forward, Loki noticed every time Thor was afforded more attention. Every time he received an extra smile, an extra pat on the back, an extra nudge in the right direction, extra training, every time Loki was pushed aside. He had never noticed before. He saw it now. He didn’t care for the crown. Being king sounded boring and like a lot of work. He only wanted to be Thor’s equal, and now he was keenly aware of how much he wasn’t.
When Thor learned what heir meant and what he was destined to be, it went immediately to his head. All of his friends were informed. Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun. The whole group thought they were so special because they were friends with the heir. Every time Loki did something they found less than pleasing they never failed to remind him of his place. Beneath Thor, and somehow, beneath them.
But Loki couldn’t hate Thor. He could be angry and bitter, but they were brothers. In the end he would do anything for him. He knew Thor would do the same.
In the end he began to resent his father.