(Author's Note: I'm excited about this one, I hope you guys like c: I don't own Marvel or Thor or Loki or anything else I might mention.)
He is fire, and I am ice, and when he holds my hand we are everything beautiful in the world.
I sit alone in the garden, watching the moon in silence. I've always liked the moon. Its coolness feels good on my skin, much better than the dreadful, blistering heat of Asgard's sixteen suns. I've never been able to stand the heat the way my fellow Asgardians have, it's just become another way that I am different and separate from my realm's warm, happy children of the suns. It's intriguing how the one lonely moon can be more beautiful than all of the suns combined.
Although, the suns have a beauty of their own, especially in the way their golden glow plays over Thor's golden locks…
I smile and let the thought pass with no more explanation. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much I, a centuries-old prince of Asgard, can act like a child in love. I return to studying the galaxies, forcing myself to name every star and constellation, along with which are visible in other realms as well. Logic is my one constant truth. The library feels more like home than anywhere else, with its cool darkness and the comforting smell of old books coming from the ceiling-high shelves lined with ancient tomes. Many times I've fallen asleep in there, to wake in Thor's bed the next morning. He always tells me that he just "happened" to stumble upon my sleeping form in the library, but I know that he waits up anxiously for me until I fall into slumber, then gently carries me back to his chambers, settling me in his huge scarlet-sheeted bed with a gentle kiss on the forehead. I know this because I've watched him countless times. Watched him through a ball of crystalline fire that I conjure in my palm as he tries to stay awake to retrieve me, eyebrows creased together in a frown and fair eyelashes fluttering. I have pretended to be asleep and looked up at him as he carries me, making sure that no one dares to stare at us or comment on his act. I have seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I don't notice. I love it. I don't like to admit it to him; in fact, I never admit it to him unless he's literally got my back against the wall, but I truly do. I love all his motions and his emotions. I love everything he does and doesn't do, for everything that he is and he isn't; I love him.
I settle idly on the stone bench, drawing my cloak around me out of habit, though I certainly didn't need it. True Asgardian nights are few and far apart, caused by a rare occurrence where the eight other realms manage to block out all sixteen of our suns at the same time, but when they do come, they are long and excruciatingly cold for the hot-blooded Asgardians, who huddle in resplendent furs and indignantly comment on the temperature. It is the only time that you can see the moon from our realm. There hasn't been a true night since Thor and I were merely a few centuries old- about 12 in Midgardian years. Neither of us had ever endured a night before, and I remember sitting in my bed, trying to fall asleep for the first time since the night had fallen, and beginning to shake in terror and letting silent tears trickle down my cheeks. Thor had already fallen asleep in his bed next to mine, and our chambers were dark, but I remember barely being able to make out his form as he shifted when I began to cry. He rolled over towards me, blinking sleepily, and saw my tears glistening in the dark. Silently, he swung his pajama-clad legs off the bed and onto the cold, metallic floors, padding softly over to my bed and climbing under the covers with me without a word. He put his arms around my shaking body, holding me to his already larger chest, and stroked my hair until my sobs died down, reduced to the occasional sniffle. Still cradling me in his hold, he gently leant back until our heads hit the pillows. He rubbed my back in small circles and sang ancient Asgardian songs to me, his tongue flowing like silk over the arcane language, until at long last I fell asleep. We continued that pattern for the rest of those long nights, until the suns finally shone again in our sky. And even when the moon had long since gone away, sometimes we still stole precious moments when one of us would crawl into the other's bed and we would fall asleep in each other's arms again like children.
I study the way the pale moonlight reflects off of my white skin as I curl my fingers into my lap. Idly, I raise one palm as if to cup something floating in mid-air, and take a deep breath as I reach deep into my subconscious. Finding the cluster of pulsing electric-blue energy within myself, I grab a strand in my mind's eye and send it shooting through my bloodstream to my outstretched hand. Cool blue fire curls into life in the middle of my palm, with lightning-like sparks popping out of my fingertips. I close my hand on the fire, and it disappears without a sound. I had learned many tricks with my magic over time, but my real talent lies in battle magic. Even though I am much smaller and slighter than any Asgardian opponent I've ever faced, I never fail to defeat everyone who dares challenge me. Ducking and weaving, sending shoots of light to curl around their ankles and trip them, I had been working on a way to use my opponents' own strength against them since I was a small child. The only person I've ever been beaten by is my own brother, and even then, it's because I find myself going frustratingly soft on him, usually letting him defeat me so that he will be more respected as king when he takes the throne. Also, losing to him in battle usually pays off for me, since he'll get full of arrogance and throw me over his shoulder, carrying me to his bedchambers like a sheep. He'll toss me onto his huge bed and pin me down, growling in my ear as he has his way with me. Anyone else I would never let win, but no, I don't mind letting my brother defeat me at all.
I hear heavy footsteps behind me, and smile to myself as I twist around to greet my brother. He has never been very good at sneaking up on me. No one is very good at sneaking up on me.
I rise from the stone bench with a honest, sweet smile playing across my lips as I see my tall, muscular brother making his way slowly towards me, eyes sparkling with desire. I feel myself nearly blush, and curse my emotions in my head. I'm like a giggling schoolgirl when I'm around Thor. It's honestly embarrassing. To hide my shame, I duck my head and look at the beautiful red roses in the garden bed next to the bench where I had been sitting, their delicate petals soft as the feeling of a lover's eyelashes fluttering against one's cheek. I pluck a flower carefully, and twirl it in my fingers as my brother slowly approaches. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach out to touch my cheek, and cover his fingers with mine once his hand touches me. Turning, I smile up at him and gaze evenly into his crystal-blue eyes. He is so beautiful, my brother. The most beautiful man in all of Asgard, I think.
He studies me intently, searching deep into my eyes, and once he realizes I'm all right, he smiles and cups my face gently in both hands, leaning in to kiss me. My eyelids flutter shut, and I lean eagerly into his lover's embrace. How I've missed this closeness. I feel all the loneliness that had been building up in me for so many months while Thor was away flooding out of my body, replaced by glowing warmth. That's the only time that I ever feel well and truly thawed all the way through, when I'm cradled in his arms. Leaning back and breaking the kiss, I realize that his arms are bare, and he's shivering slightly. "Aren't you cold?" I murmur, reaching up to thread my pale fingers through his hair.
Thor smiles graciously at me. "I am alright, brother, so long as I have you." He leans in to kiss me again, but I carefully evade him.
"Thor, you're going to freeze if you don't put something on," I chide playfully and reach back to unfasten my cape, which I swirl over his broad shoulders while he gives me a grateful look. I wrap my arms around him and lean into his ear. "Let's go inside," I murmur into his ear, with the promise of so much more behind those simple words. Thor grabs my shoulders to hold me at arm's length, and then, with a mischievous look that I thought belonged only to me, he sweeps me up into his arms and I gasp when I find myself held carefully like a princess, head pressed against his chest and legs draped over one of his forearms, the other wrapped securely against the small of my back and curling around my waist. I snuggle eagerly into him as he carries me back to our chambers, remembering an old Asgardian saying that I had heard when I was just a child, hiding behind my mother's skirts while she talked to the lords and ladies. "Asgardian days warm all of Asgard, but true night warms only the hearts of lovers." Curling closer to my brother, I don't think I've ever heard a truer thing in all my centuries of life.