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All eyes were upon him. All but Loki's. Loki's gaze was fixed firmly on the needle in his hand. It was large enough that it could hold the thick piece of cord that hung from. The needle was sharp, and glinted in the light of the hall.
Thor, who had once claimed to have no fear, felt his hand tremble.
Above him, gazing down, Odin, his father. All around, the court, the people that was witnessed the judgment, all waiting eagerly to see the punishment carried out.
Loki trembled too.
“Why me?” Thor turned to his father to ask. “Why must I be the one to do this?”
Odin's voice was calm, but full of resignation. “Because you were the one that he wronged,” he explained. “And you were the one that brought the complaint before me. You may carry out the punishment.”
“But I don't want to,” Thor said. It sounded childish and ridiculous, and he regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. Regretted the way he had phrased it, but not the meaning behind them.
“This is the way things are done,” Odin told him. “Would you be a coward, making accusations and seeking punishment without the spine required to follow it through? This is our way, Thor.”
Loki's eyes had still not left the tip of the needle.
“I retract my accusation,” Thor said. “I forgive my brother for anything he may have done, and I no longer accuse him of this particular transgression.”
Odin got to his feet, all eyes now on him. All but Loki's.
“It is done,” his voice boomed out across the large hall, echoing from the walls and ceiling. “There are no retractions, the punishment has been decided. Carry it out, or if you dare not, choose another to act in your stead.” He glanced around, “I am sure there are many here who would be all to happy to be in your position right now, Thor.”
He was right, of course. As Thor followed his father;s gaze around the room, he saw many eager faces, each one desperate to be chosen to plunge the needle through the soft, unblemished skin, pulling tight the stitches, sealing those lips together and stopping, for once the lies. Thor felt a shudder run through him at the thought.
He shook his head. The punishment was terrible enough without the one to carry it out being intent on inflicting pain. He raised the needle.
Loki's eyes met his, wide, pleading. His head shook from side to side, only slightly, but enough to communicate his desperation.
“I'm sorry,” Thor said. His voice was a whisper, meant only for his brother.
“Refuse,” Loki begged him. “Thor, please, I'll never do it again. Please!”
Thor stepped closer, and Loki shrank back, but instead of plunging in the needle, he pulled his brother into a tight embrace, moving his lips to his ear as he did, and whispered, “If I refuse, someone else will do it, and it will be worse. I'll be gentle, I swear.”
Though how one could be gentle while engaged in such an act, Thor did not know. He felt Loki's trust in the way he stopped pulling back. His brother did not relax, but some of the tension left his body.
Thor pulled back, away from him. The needle was still in his hand, between his thumb and forefinger. If felt heavy. Heavier than anything he had ever had need to lift before. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“No,” Loki shook his head. “I'll never be ready.” But he made no move to retreat.
Thor raised the needle, bringing it with trembling fingers to his brother's lips. He felt the point touch the skin, and Loki gasped in shock and jerked backward suddenly.
Thor looked at him. Where the needle had penetrated, was a small, round bead of red blood, growing slowly. It expanded until it lost its shape and begun to run down Loki's chin.
“Hold my head,” Loki told him.
Thor looked at him, puzzled.
“Hold me in place,” Loki said. He raised a hand and wiped away the rivulet of blood, smearing it across his chin. “I can't stand here willingly and allow this. Please.”
Thor nodded. He brought his left hand behind his brother's head and entwined his fingers in his dark hair. Again, he raised the needle, and this time pushed it through the skin on Loki's bottom lip. He watched in horrified fascination as the metal tip rose, red with blood through the skin.
Thor realized that he was holding his breath. Slowly, he released it, and began to pull the cord up, through the skin.
Loki's face was a picture of agony, but he did not cry out. His eyes never left Thor's, though they filled with tears.
The cord pulled through the lip until the thick knot at the end made contact with the damaged flesh, Thor turned to his father, hoping for a reprieve, praying that this was enough. Odin watched calmly from his throne, waiting for him to continue.
The needle was now slick with blood, it was difficult to keep a firm grip, but Thor pushed it now upward through the top lip. Loki's face contorted in agony and he tried to pull back, to escape the torture. Thor's hand on the back of his head held him firm.
Again and again, he plunged the needle into his brother's flesh, wincing himself in sympathy at the pain he was inflicting. The needle moved up and down, leaving behind it a trail of thick, brown cord slowly sealing Loki's lips together, marring his previously unblemished features with its ugly, bloodstained presence. Blood dripped freely now, down his chin, staining the fabric of his tunic. Tears mingled with the blood, diluting it to a translucent pink. Tears of pain, and of shame.
All the time, Loki continued to look his brother in the eye, communicating a message that Thor did not understand. Did Loki forgive him, did he understand that by doing this himself, he was sparing him a greater torture? Or was the look one of accusation?
He finished, and his hand dropped away, leaving the needle still dangling at the end of the remaining cord. He glanced briefly at their father, then returned all of his attention to Loki. His lips were completely sealed. The stitches were not tight, but they were effective, and even if they were to be removed now, the pain of the injury would probably still his tongue for several days, at least. But not even a whimper escaped him.
Odin said nothing, simply watched. Every eye in the room was still on them.
“Come,” Thor said. He took his brother by the hand and led him from the hall, turning around as they left to give the assembled gods an accusing glare. Loki followed meekly, not looking up to meet the gazes of the others.
Thor boiled with rage, but he had no outlet for it. This had been his doing, every inch of the way.
He wondered whether Loki could ever forgive him.