Loki sat at the bedside, cradling Thor’s hands on his knees, appearing to carefully apply dicine. But his eyes darted wildly.
Interesting wounds. A fire that could nearly roast Thor?
The evening breeze stirred the silk curtains, the Nordic-style room draped with thick pelts, amplifying the barbecue scent.
What fire could harm a god?
Thor, oblivious to Loki’s thoughts, stripped to his underwear, lying back and recounting the incident.
Loki’s face twisted as he looked up, staring at Thor like he was an idiot.
Those villagers must be in despair. Thor always managed effects Loki couldn’t dream of pulling off intentionally. Hilarious.
"Stop looking at like that!" Thor swatted Loki’s head, sensing his brother plotting sothing mischievous.
Loki was great—except for his prank obsession and secretive nature, unlike the open Asgardians.
"Don’t snap at . I didn’t teach you to punch flas," Loki said, fixing his long hair, glancing aside. "If Odin were here, he’d know what that fire was."
Thor shifted, propping himself on pillows, hooking an arm around Loki’s shoulders.
Thor’s brawny arm made Loki look like an underdeveloped child.
"We never needed him. We handle everything ourselves—you and ."
"He’s been gone a long ti," Loki said, wriggling free. He hated Thor’s grip; it made him feel small, inviting mockery.
Especially from Sif. He’d turned her golden hair black once, and she never forgave him.
Whenever Sif saw Thor manhandling him, she shot mocking looks.
Thor grabbed a basin, soaking his hands. The burning eased. Scoffing at Loki’s words, he said, "That hateful, useless old man..."
"He’s the All-Father, near-omniscient," Loki countered, still wary of Odin. "But he’s gone now."
"Let him stay gone. He knows when to show up to make himself look good. That’s it."
Thor knew Loki was right but wouldn’t admit it.
Asgardians said he’d never match Odin. It irked him. He wielded lightning, was stronger, younger, braver.
What good was knowledge?
Odin called his bravery recklessness, stupidity. They often parted on bad terms.
Loki agreed but kept quiet. Thor was the dumbest in Asgard, but he never said it.
A king needed magnanimity and kindness, balancing authority and warmth. So, Loki played the dutiful brother.
When Thor badmouthed Odin, Loki’s lips twitched into a half-smile, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Let Thor guess his stance.
Thor rarely cared for Loki’s opinion, ranting until satisfied, ignoring him.
That disregard stung Loki most. He’d even asked Frigga if he was her real son.
She hugged him tightly, swearing he was her beloved youngest.
While bandaging Thor, Loki noticed the room growing brighter.
He glanced at the wall lamps, then toward the window’s moonlight, but froze. The World Tree in the distance blazed like a torch, illuminating the realm.
Even cunning Loki nearly gasped.
Odin had told them Asgard’s mighty nation spanned nine realms, grown on the World Tree.
They were: Asgard (ho of the Aesir), Vanaheim (Vanir gods), Alfheim (Light Elves), Nidavellir (Dwarves), Midgard (humans), and Hel (the dead)—all under Aesir rule.
Jotunheim (Frost Giants), Svartalfheim (Dark Elves), and Muspelheim (Fire Giants) were unconquered, rely nominal subjects due to their harsh environnts.
As Loki and Thor aged, they learned the universe held more planets. The World Tree tale beca Odin’s old yarn.
Each realm was a distinct planet, conquered by Bor or Odin.
They didn’t know Frigga herself was taken by Odin’s armies.
Loki often pondered: cosmic theory couldn’t explain the World Tree, linking far-flung planets into a tight cluster.
Asgard and Hel, especially, seed like flat continents adrift in space—not quite planets.
Now, the legendary tree holding nine worlds was ablaze. Not a good sign.
"Thor?"
"What?" Thor mumbled, half-asleep. Loki’s bed was too soft, its scent soothing, the cool dicine lulling him.
"Look outside, brother."
Loki hauled Thor up, prying his eyelids open.
"By Odin’s beard!"
Thor’s drowsiness vanished. He scrambled up, shirtless, leaning over the balcony toward the World Tree.
It stood at the realm’s edge, near Odin’s old residence, now Valhalla, ho of the honored dead.
"Loki, ready the horses. We need to check it out."
Thor hurriedly donned his gear.
Loki shot him another idiot stare, chanting a spell. His silk pajamas morphed into a dark green and black robe, and he floated.
"Why not fly?"
Thor’s thick skin ignored the jab. Hadn’t thought of that!
No big deal! His clever brother could handle the thinking!
Grabbing Mjolnir, he flew with Loki toward the World Tree, darting through a crimson sky like moths to fla.
They couldn’t get close. The heat intensified, turbulent air tossing them.
The World Tree dwarfed any palace Thor knew, its heat equally colossal. Those eerie flas had reached Asgard.
Thor, sturdy, endured, but Loki struggled in the smoke and heat, eyes watering.
Thor landed, pulling Loki to find a better angle.
"Not a good sign, right?" Loki asked, hiding behind Thor against the heat, shouting over the tree’s roaring blaze, like termites gnawing it, wailing.
"Only a lunatic would think this is good," Thor said, frowning at the red inferno. How to fight this fire?
Anxiety mounted in the heat, his thoughts jumbled.
"You’re not going to punch it out again, are you?" Loki asked, his hair curling from the heat. They couldn’t handle this—they needed help.
Thor shook his head, glancing at his bandaged, bear-paw hands. Punching wasn’t an option.
Loki relaxed, but Thor added, "Once I piss on that tree, those flas will know who’s boss!"
Loki clutched his forehead, his horned crown suddenly tight. A headache brewed.
Thor was serious.
Pushing through the heat, Thor fumbled with his bandaged hands to undo his belt, ready to douse the flas, heedless of burning his hair off.
"Take this, cursed flas! Scared yet? I’m Thor, God of Thunder! I command you to die!"
Loki saw no sign of the fire weakening. Thor couldn’t put out a campfire with piss, let alone this.
The World Tree’s kiloter-wide trunk would lt Thor’s "little bird." Odin would bla Loki for not watching him.
Loki yanked Thor back by his belt, retreating.
The move widened his view.
They weren’t alone. On the other side of the burning trunk stood a stranger.
Dressed in a plain Asgardian robe, he held a long tal skewer, roasting sothing over the World Tree’s flas.
As Loki spotted him, the man’s single eye t theirs, flashing a sinister smile.
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