Chapter 3
"Mother, go to bed." Thor set his candle on the dresser and sat down on the other side of the bed. "You need rest. I will sit with him while you sleep."
Frigga hesitated. "I don't want to leave him. He's so badly injured and I think he's running a bit of a fever…"
Thor felt his brother's forehead. "If he is it is not much of one. I promise I will monitor that though. Go to bed mother. I can send someone to wake the healer just as easily as you can should anything happen."
It felt a little strange to hold a man's hand, but that was what people always seemed to do at a sickbed, and Thor quickly realized that he could feel his brother's pulse against his fingers. He truthfully had no idea of how it ought to feel, but just to feel it at all was reassuring as he surveyed the younger man's still form. Loki had always been lean and wiry, but it had been many years since Thor had seen him undressed and the huge bed and draping silk sheets only added to the appearance of smallness. In battle it was easy to forget the difference in their sizes as Loki made up for it in nimbleness, but lying in bed with next to nothing padding his narrow frame, skin starkly pale in contrast to his long lashes and the halo of black hair spread out on the pillow, the bandages around his chest peeking from under the top of the sheets, that glittering bubble over the lower part of his face, there was nothing to detract from the impression of fragility. Even his hand looked small and pale in Thor's larger tanned one.
The silence was oppressive. Thor couldn't stand it. "I don't know if you can hear me, brother," He began a little awkwardly, "But I love you and feel terribly about my friends and I having hurt you so badly. I never intended to do you real harm, only to stop you doing harm to others. I suppose the silver lining is that there is no need to treat you like a prisoner while you are too weak for anyone to think you a threat and that will buy us time to figure out what to do with you." He paused. "I so hate to see you suffer and be powerless to stop it. It is my duty as your older brother to protect you and I hate the times when I cannot. Do you remember that pony you had when we were children? The first one, the gray. The first time that you fell off him and had to see a healer, I was so angry at him for hurting you. I marched into his stall afterwards and started punching him. Luckily he was a properly placid child's pony and didn't strike back, but the groom caught me and told mother on me. And do you remember the time you let a bilgesnipe into the great hall and I tried to take the blame for it because father was so angry? That was actually a great prank apart from father's reaction. Your pranks usually were right up until the adults got angry."