Thor

His brother is a god, and none feel this deeper in their bones but Loki. He felt, too, in the air from the earliest age at which such things can be felt by men (or others), the unnamable thing. 

Not between them; a moon cannot itself shine, a snake does not glow with the heat in which it basks. This is a one-way street. 

It's not so bad. He worships his brother, after all, is that not what gods are for? Some may call that temptation, and it may well be.

When Thor smiles, how can he not reflect it? 

 

„Bratře, říkám, že nejsi pravý Ásgarďan, když nepiješ medovinu.“

Loki, bůh zrady, se zadíval na pána blesků dost znechuceně.

„Jenom jsem namítl, že se mi z rohu špatně pije. A všichni se smáli. Hlavně Baldr.“

Thor se uchechtl: „A za to jsi našeho sourozence málem zabil?“

A příště se mi to povede.

Loki zapředl: „Už jsi přemýšlel nad tím, jaké bude tvé první rozhodnutí jako vládce? Otec je stará fosílie. Dost hloupý nápad, vyměnit moudrost za oko.“

Vzápětí bolestivě vyjekl, jak ho Ódin zatáhl za obě uši naráz. „Jsem napůl slepý, ale uši slouží dobře. Tak pozor na pusu, synáčku!“

The humans cheered, and Loki took a step further back from the circle of rowdy youngsters. Barely children, in Asgardian terms, but these creatures lived such short, miserable lives. Someone bumped into him, and he reached for his knife, but a familiar voice distracted him.

"Well fought, friends!" Laughter and more cheers - the crowd parted to show Thor standing victorious, fifteen youths collapsed at his feet. He caught Loki's eye and winked, beaming. He spoke their tongue with such joy. He thrived in their company; drinking their piss-water ale, singing their crude songs.

"Pathetic," Loki yelled, and Thor laughed. Gloriously.

The child was shivering, blue and very small, smaller even in Heimdall's arms. Frigga gestured to a healer without turning her head, and the woman hurried off, returning seconds later with an entourage of others, who swiftly took the little one away.

"The Allfather-" Heimdall began, but Frigga laughed.

"Of course this is his doing. The old fool." Who else would take an infant barely quickened and bring it home as a war trophy.

"Will she live?"

"He," Frigga said, considering. Born too soon, unfinished in myriad, critical ways, and yet... She sensed life in him. Fierce like fire. "Yes."

Thor ran across the courtyard, face red with excitement. He could see Loki already moving his hands in the air above the easel, flickers of color sparking into existance.

"Show me," he gasped, nearly crashing into his brother, who did not flinch.

"Show you what? I've barely started." Loki's voice was still high, like mother's, but somehow sounded more serious than Thor's ever could.

"You're making a world-window!"

"I'm learning to."

"Show me. Please? I'll be quiet."

"I don't know how yet," Loki snapped, but his hands kept moving. Spellbound in every sense of the word, Thor watched him work.

Proč to vždycky skončí takhle? Vždyť se jen vrátil domů! Jako by to vybudilo všechny vesmírné pobudy, aby zrovna teď, když překročí práh, napadli jeho rodný svět.

Vždycky byl zmatkář. Za okny paláce krizovka a jeho nic nenapadá. Bude muset… za Ním.

„Návštěva, jak milé.“

„Loki, půjdu rovnou k věci. Mohl bys… mi… helfnout?“

Úšklebek. „Thore, slovy klasika: Inter arma silent Musae – Ve válce múzy mlčí. Slyším dunění. Asgard je pod palbou, že?“

„Tak nějak. Proč to komplikuješ?“

Loki se napřímil. „Protože kdybys mě nebral za otcem, neskončil bych tady!“ Pak zjemnil hlas. „No, mluvme chvíli obchodně. Co za to?“