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Thor gets a stern look from the servant when he asks where he can find his brother instead of 'the king'. He ignores the unspoken reprimand; he figures the staff should be used to his frequent slip-ups by now. At least the man still answers him, and Thor finds Loki on a bench in a secluded corner of their mother's garden, half-hidden under the branches of a Weeping Willow. That, at least, is not surprising: it's a fine summer day, and Loki has never enjoyed the heat of the sun like Thor does.
Loki's eyes are half-closed as if he were dozing, although he opens them when Thor sits down next to him without waiting for an invitation. It's another breach of etiquette, but if Loki minds, he doesn't comment on it.
"Am I disturbing you?" Thor asks belatedly so he can't be accused of outright rudeness.
Loki shoots him a sidelong glance. "Shouldn't you have asked me that before you sat down?"
Thor shrugs. "Tony Stark used to say it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission."
"In that case, you are forgiven," Loki states magnanimously even though he definitely knows that's not what Thor meant. "Was there something you wanted, or are you just here to bother me?"
Thor doesn't take the bait. "Am I bothering you? It doesn't look like you're doing anything."
Loki's expression turns pinched for a moment. "I was meditating, if you must know." He turns his wrist in a way that has become familiar to Thor by now; it means he's casting a spell that makes sure they can't be overheard. "Sorting out the mess that my trip to your timeline made of my memories is proving to be rather challenging, and it's not like I have an overabundance of free time on my hands these days."
Thor supposes that's true; the palace is currently swarming with delegates from Alfheim and Nidavellir, and Loki is usually tied up in negotiations for most of the day. "Do you really have to do that now?"
Loki gives him an almost pitying look. "Are you expecting quieter times anytime soon?" He doesn't give Thor a chance to answer, which Thor is honestly grateful for; instead, he continues in a different, much lighter tone, "Besides, I've been remembering some rather interesting things lately."
"Oh?" Thor isn't sure what to make of the look on Loki's face, but at least his brother doesn't seem about to bring up anything too terrible. "Like what?"
The little smirk he gets in reply sends a trickle of apprehension down his spine; it's never a good sign when the God of Mischief smiles at you like that. Thor wants to ask what's going on, but freezes before he can say a word when he feels something cool and silk-smooth brush the side of his neck.
"There's this story you regaled your friends with," Loki answers in an almost dreamy voice; he isn't meeting Thor's eyes and pretends not to notice the way his brother suddenly sits stock-still. "It was an entertaining story, wasn't it? The man-beast and the slave trader seemed to find it very amusing."
Thor starts to sweat. There's definitely something sliding over his shoulder, and is that... a tongue flicking against the shell of his ear?
"Now this is rather peculiar," Loki states conversationally, "I definitely seem to recall you claiming that you love snakes these days, and yet you taste of fear."
Taste? Thor's brain stutters to a halt when the implications of that word begin to dawn on him. He slowly turns his head just a fraction, away from the awful slithering sensation, to look at his brother. Loki winks at him, and for a second, Thor spots the tell-tale flicker of an illusion. What the –
Thor could, of course, just reach out and touch him to find out whether the Loki sitting next to him is truly there or not, but that would require moving, and he so isn't going to do that with a fucking snake tonguing his ear.
"Loki," he finally manages to get out, although he doesn't dare to do more than whisper, "is that snake you?"
"Why yes," the Loki illusion by Thor's side replies as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "It probably wouldn't have occurred to me to try taking this shape since I usually go for animals that provide me with abilities I wouldn't otherwise possess, such as flight, and smelling with one's tongue doesn't seem overly useful, but I got curious." He raises his eyebrows in a look of such perfect innocence that it makes Thor's fists itch. "Besides, I apparently had the ability to turn into a snake before I was even out of swaddling clothes, and given that the noble Thor would never lower himself to something as dishonorable as lying, I must have forgotten this particular skill at some point during my infancy. During yours too, since it seems I've also been misinformed about my date of birth and we were actually raised as twins even though you never passed up a chance to remind me of the centuries you had on me until I finally came of age myself."
The snake – Loki – has slithered down Thor's shoulder and is now getting comfortable in his lap, but Thor can't even properly focus on the way his skin crawls because the cursed illusion next to him won't shut up. He could, of course, get up and walk away, but there's no telling what the snake will do if he tries that, and besides, he'll be damned if he gives his brother the satisfaction of admitting just how close he is to completely freaking out –
His brother, who can currently smell Thor's growing panic with his tongue, and who is entirely safe from Thor's retribution these days on account of also being his king.
"All right," he finally manages to grind out, "so I might have embellished a few things..."
He breathes a sigh of relief when the disgusting reptile in his lap dissolves in a shimmer of green magic. "Interesting," the Loki next to Thor – the real one now? – replies; he has a faraway look in his eyes as if he were watching a scene that's playing out in the distance. Probably casting himself as the tragic hero again, Thor thinks vindictively although he knows better than to say it out loud. "That's not what I would have called it, but what do I know? I'm just the God of Lies, after all."
Thor throws up his hands. "Norns, Loki, it was just a funny story! Just because you remember it differently –"
"Oh yes, it was very funny at the time," Loki interrupts him. "You're right, though – I remember it quite differently, and since it happened centuries before your mortal shield-brothers decided to mess with the flow of time, I'm fairly confident that my memory is accurate. Therefore, it seems we're finding ourselves at an impasse." He smiles again, that eerie smile that is all teeth and should, as Clint Barton once put it, by rights come with a triangular fin on top. Thor had needed an explanation for the reference, but had found it quite apt once he got it.
"Because, brother dearest," Loki continues without missing a beat, "we both know that I have loved snakes all my life, while I seem to recall that you used to be absolutely terrified of them. Of course, you would never have confessed to something as disgraceful as fear, least of all to your annoying little brother, so when we happened to come across a snake while we were playing outside the palace, I merely wanted to admire it, but you had to pick it up to prove to me how not afraid you were. Thanks to your famously gentle touch, the snake took fright and bit your finger – it was a harmless, non-venomous little thing, so its bite was barely worse than the prick of a needle, but you still let out a shriek that brought our caretakers running to check on you. The problem was that it also made me laugh, and when we were found, you with a bleeding finger and I laughing at you, everyone immediately believed your claim that I was somehow to blame, so I was sent to bed without supper."
Loki smiles fondly. "I don't remember exactly how old I was at the time – definitely too young to be allowed near sharp implements, and now I can't help trying to imagine for how many centuries I would have been grounded if I had actually ever stabbed you, or anyone else for that matter, while we were children."
Thor rolls his eyes. "It was a story, Loki, there's really no need to make such a fuss about it. Even you were smiling when I told it!"
"Oh yes," Loki replies silkily, and that's a very dangerous tone that has slipped into his voice, "I found it particularly amusing to imagine just how much your friends would have enjoyed some of the anecdotes from our youth that I could have shared – especially since, unlike your charming tale, mine would have had the added advantage of being entirely true. They wouldn't have believed me, of course, but you and I would have known, wouldn't we, brother?"
When Thor just grits his teeth and doesn't reply, Loki continues, "Come to think of it, perhaps I should have regaled your friends with a story of my own? Like, for example, how enticing you look in a bridal gown?"
"You promised never to speak of that!" Thor yelps before he can think better of it, and of course his outrage only serves to make Loki's grin widen.
"No, you demanded I never speak of it, and so far I have indulged you, but perhaps it's time I stopped?" Loki is still smiling, but there's definitely an edge to his smile now. "It would be a lot of fun, don't you think?"
Thor's mood isn't helped by the fact that he can feel his cheeks heat up with remembered humiliation. "I had to wear a dress!"
"So did I!"
"You were a woman at the time!"
Loki exhales; it sounds almost like a sigh, and his tone is much calmer when he replies, "So were you, idiot. Or," he adds when Thor just gapes at him, "I should rather say that you were spelled to look like one."
Thor's jaw drops. "You glamoured me?"
"Of course I did!" Loki shoots back with growing indignation. "What do you think those giants were, blind? You couldn't even be convinced to part with your precious beard!"
Thor's face is burning with a mix of anger and shame, which is probably why the only answer he can think of is, "It would have been dishonorable."
"And getting blind drunk with a bunch of giants wasn't? If you hadn't fallen asleep, they wouldn't have been able to get at your precious hammer in the first place!"
"They shouldn't have been able to anyway," Thor grumbles mulishly. "You helped them, didn't you?"
Loki seems actually speechless for a moment before he regains enough of his composure to ask, "What in the Nine gave you that idea?"
"They couldn't have moved Mjölnir on their own!"
"Neither could I!" For the first time since their conversation began, Loki seems close to getting truly angry, and Thor remembers too late that this isn't just another spat with his conniving little brother, that the man sitting next to him is Asgard's king now.
He raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry if I misspoke, brother. It's just – we never found out how they did it, remember?"
Loki rolls his eyes. "They buried her, Thor – dug a hole right underneath the hammer and then filled it up again to hide her. Did it escape your notice that Thrym even boasted about it during the wedding feast? Or that you had to climb into a pit for the blessing of the bride because your precious hammer was at the bottom?"
Thor shakes his head; if he's honest, he doesn't remember all that much about that particular adventure – partly due to the huge amount of alcohol that was still sloshing around in his brain, and partly because he has tried very hard to forget the entire sorry affair because he would probably have died of embarrassment if he hadn't.
Loki clearly hasn't forgotten, though, because he adds with false sweetness, "Considering how fetching you looked, perhaps you would like to wear the glamour again next week when you get Mjölnir back?"
Thor feels his shoulders slump; with this harsh reminder of their new reality, the brief foray into nostalgia is clearly over. "Why didn't you tell me? About the glamour, I mean."
Loki leans back with a sigh. "Because I was furious with you." He takes a deep breath and adds in a different, carefully neutral tone, "You'd gotten yourself into that mess, yet I was once again the one who had to fix it if I didn't want to end up with the blame, so I felt I deserved to at least see you squirm a little."
He might have a point, but of course Thor isn't going to say that out loud – and he's saved from having to say anything at all by the sound of approaching footsteps that turn out to belong to that mousy little diplomat (Lady Inga? Irma? Thor has seen her before, but he never bothered to learn her name) who keeps dogging Loki's heels these days. "My king," she pipes up with a deep bow before Loki and a shallow curtsy in Thor's general direction, "forgive me for interrupting, but King Freyr's ambassador is most insistent – "
Loki rises from the bench before she can finish the sentence. "Thank you, Lady Irpa, I'll be with you shortly. Apologies, brother, duty calls," he adds once the woman has beaten a hasty retreat. "Or was there something else you wanted?"
Thor just shakes his head; it's not like he came here for a specific reason.
Loki is about to leave when he pauses and turns back as if something had only now occurred to him. "I've been meaning to ask – how are you doing? I take it you're still adjusting?"
Thor snorts; there's an understatement. Things are a hundred times better than they were before, of course, but still... "You could say that."
Loki hesitates; he almost seems to be at a loss for words, which isn't something that happens all that often. When he finally speaks, Thor is pretty sure it's not the question that's actually on his mind. "So how do you... cope? I mean – with everything?"
"I try not to think too much," Thor admits because it's the only answer he has.
Loki ponders that for a moment; then he just says, "You'll have to teach me how to do that sometime" and walks away before Thor can come up with a reply.