[ He does not mean to cause Loki agony or shame by bringing him again into his kingdom, taking him deep into the heart of the woods to this ascetic shelter amidst the old trees. He only means to show him how he lives now, the turning of his life since the days when they were lovers. Yet Loki stands at the door with suffering in every line of his body, and Thor knows that the shame is his, that he had ever brought pain to the winter king's hard, that he had ever let him know betrayal and abandonment, no matter how necessary.
Thor moves towards him and lifts his fingers to touch Loki's raven hair. The dark strands fall straight and unadorned, without crystals or crowns or any of the accoutrements his lover once wore, bedecked in the beauty and glory of a king. How Thor had loved to see him so, how he had ached for him when he lived with his lord in the winter palace. He watches Loki's fingers stroke the frame of the threshold with an absent fervor, and he wishes that elegant white touch was upon him, upon his own skin. That pleasure, that intimacy could smooth away pain. ]
Will you tell me now my own desire, my heart?
[ He sweeps aside the black curtain of Loki's hair and leans down to kiss the vulnerable white nape of his neck. His hands settle upon narrow hips, Loki's body thin and bony in his hands; while he has grown ever more beautiful in his age and sorrow, Loki has withered and starved, as though bereft not only of joy and laughter but of sustenance itself. ]
If you will not destroy me, then what would you do? I would have you live here with me. [ His lips are tender on Loki's skin. An arm winds around his waist, his hand resting low on his belly, drawing their hips together, as though in memory of the intimacy they once shared. ] I would renounce my kingship. I would live only for you.
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Thor moves towards him and lifts his fingers to touch Loki's raven hair. The dark strands fall straight and unadorned, without crystals or crowns or any of the accoutrements his lover once wore, bedecked in the beauty and glory of a king. How Thor had loved to see him so, how he had ached for him when he lived with his lord in the winter palace. He watches Loki's fingers stroke the frame of the threshold with an absent fervor, and he wishes that elegant white touch was upon him, upon his own skin. That pleasure, that intimacy could smooth away pain. ]
Will you tell me now my own desire, my heart?
[ He sweeps aside the black curtain of Loki's hair and leans down to kiss the vulnerable white nape of his neck. His hands settle upon narrow hips, Loki's body thin and bony in his hands; while he has grown ever more beautiful in his age and sorrow, Loki has withered and starved, as though bereft not only of joy and laughter but of sustenance itself. ]
If you will not destroy me, then what would you do? I would have you live here with me. [ His lips are tender on Loki's skin. An arm winds around his waist, his hand resting low on his belly, drawing their hips together, as though in memory of the intimacy they once shared. ] I would renounce my kingship. I would live only for you.