[ Loki's eyes meet his and the green of them is so dark as to be nearly black, the light that once glowed in them gone now, trampled out beneath the ages of suffering and grief and bitter rage. And it is like a blade to Thor's heart to see that, so painful it nearly sets him to gasping; but instead he leans down and covers Loki's mouth with his, stealing for himself the tender desire he would have them share with one another again. Even as Loki cups his face between his hands, Thor gathers him into his arms, arms even stronger and harder than those that once held the king of winter in their forbidden embraces.

Perhaps there was nothing in which their love could have ended but sorrow or death. Yet he had made a promise to Loki never to fall by his hand, and Thor had kept his vow. ]

Is it so?

[ His voice is soft, his lips at Loki's cheek, yet Thor pushes him back against the wall of the hut with hunger in the broad hands which hold him. The lord of winter is thin and narrow and brittle beneath his touch, but still he hitches him up between wood and the unyielding press of his own body. He has strength enough for them both; let that strength be breathed back into his lover's form. Can they not know each other again, share heat and desire again, and perhaps find, if not new joy, healing and wholeness? ]

Then come and be my subject, my beauty, my prince of winter. Come and live beside me as my own. [ His voice is rough, whispering, his mouth at Loki's ear. ] If you will not let me renounce my kingdom for you, then renounce yours for me: for I have never let you go from my heart. You know that, do you not?