In Asgard's gardens, two figures chased each other through a small grove. Both wore innocent smiles, as though they had no worries at all, playing the simplest and most childish game of tag.
"Thor, come catch me! Haha!"
One Loki hid behind a tree, poking out only his head as he beckoned to the bearded brute some distance away.
The brute wore a goofy grin as well. He strode after him in great steps, calling out happily:
"Don't run, Loki! Come wrestle me face-to-face."
Asgard favored armed combat, and people were often crippled during bouts, but wrestling had its place too. Young children who had not received weapons training all enjoyed playing it.
That was how it went: one ran ahead while the other chased behind, the two of them foolishly darting through the woods with laughter as loud as clanging barbells.
Every now and then, they would even clutch the same tree and gaze deeply into each other's eyes with a deeply suggestive air. No matter how one looked at it, it did not seem like a normal brotherly relationship.
Naturally, Loki could not outrun Thor. In the end, the bearded brute caught him from behind around the waist. Both of them panted, their faces flushed.
"Let's have some wine, Thor. I'm thirsty." Long-haired Loki looked a little shy as he slowly lowered his head, his eyes turning toward a little flower nearby.
"Of course, my brother." Though Thor said that, he did not let go. "But I'm worried you'll run away again. I won't let you leave me."
"I won't, Brother. You are my dearest flesh and blood, my brother. How could I ever leave you?" Loki shook his head, revealing a gentle smile as he turned his face and rubbed it against Thor's rough, stubbled chin.
They