To hear Thor's quick anger--it touched some nervous place he had no name for and soothed it, and Loki was grateful despite himself, and he would share his gratitude. With pity upon his face he gathered Thor's head in his hands. Soft, now; his touch easy as it buried into his golden mane, his mouth tenderly pursed. He gazed at him in sympathy. Poor brother. Poor fool.

Gently he wiped away the crimson stain at the corner of Thor's mouth. Their years together had left many marks upon him and yet midst his rage and humiliation and triumph, even now he could not keep himself from admiration for Thor's beauty, his power and noble bearing. Truly he was kingly and worthy of...

No, he was not kingly enough. Loki would grind that knowledge into him, though his heart churned and clutched at his throat.

Against the brightness of day the curtains had been drawn. In these sumptuous quarters only the flicker of lamplight illuminated them. There, to their side, reposed the vast and luxurious bed; at its foot, a great gilt and jeweled chest. Tousling Thor's warm hair in his hands one last time, Loki slipped away and sat himself upon this chest.

"You will remove your clothing. I command you."