Loki: The Burden of the Throne

Chapter 1

"Remind me again why we're doing this," Loki said in a mildly irritated tone to Thor, both he and his brother dressed in Asgardian hunting frocks of brown and forest green.

Each brother had awakened before dawn, far earlier than Loki preferred and typically began his day, already putting him in a prickly mood from the outset. They had entered the forest of Asgard just after the sun had risen with a quiver of arrows and a bow slung across their backs. Having found what Thor considered a promising location to lay in wait, they rested prone on the soft detritus that carpeted the forest floor, peering over a moss covered trunk of a fallen tree.

It was the eve of Kynsblot, Asgard's yearly celebration of family. It was one of the more minor holidays of the Asgardian calendar compared to the midyear solstice and Yule festivals, though still considered an important rite. Each year on this day, since they were of age to do so, the brothers ventured into the forest to hunt for the meat that would grace their table the next day for the feast.

Loki reveled in the pomp and ceremonial splendor that accompanied such celebrations but he had never been much into the sport, though he was an able huntsman and would in no case starve if he were ever to find himself forced into a survival situation, at least if there was game to be had. He was more than satisfied to allow those whose task it was to procure food for the royal table to do their duty. He had better things to do. Spying an arachnid type creature crawling up Thor's back towards the God of Thunder's shoulder, another reminder of why Loki detested the activity in which they were currently engaged, he reached out, flicking it away.

"Remind me again why I have to answer this same question on this day every year. It's tradition and traditions are important-" Thor replied before Loki interrupted.

"For the unity of Asgard and to connect us with each other and our ancestors, etcetera, etcetera...I know," Loki stated.

"If you know, why do you continue to ask?" Thor queried.

"It's tradition," Loki answered sarcastically.

"Some traditions can be dispensed with," Thor said before hearing the sound of rustling in the vegetation yards in front of them, moving in their direction.

Gesturing to Loki to be silent and pointing, which was far from necessary as Loki also had ears that were keenly tuned, Thor removed an arrow from his quiver, notching it in his bow, Loki following suit.

Making their way towards them through the forest, sniffing the air warily, came two hjorts, creatures very much like red deer. One was a stag, full grown but still somewhat young, with an impressive rack for his age.

"I have the one on the left," Thor whispered to Loki, Loki nodding, aiming his arrow at the second hjort.

Thor pulled back on the string of his bow just as Loki was preparing to let his arrow fly, the elbow of Thor's muscular arm nudging Loki enough to throw off Loki's aim. Thor's arrow lodged itself into the hjort, a clean shot to the heart, while Loki's arrow zipped past his quarry where it stuck itself into a tree, sending the surviving hjort leaping and bounding away.

"You oaf!" Loki exclaimed, perturbed.

"I'm sorry, brother," Thor apologized.

"No you're not," Loki said acidly, laying his bow down and rising, stepping over the fallen tree trunk, walking past the lifeless body of the stag to the tree from which his errant arrow protruded, reclaiming it.

Thor followed, kneeling by the stag to ensure it had breathed its last.

"We could wait for another or should we dress the one and return?" Thor asked, reasonably sure what Loki's answer would be.