He looks at him and his excited emerald eyes and knows he will forgive him again and again. Because he's lost in the green forests, again, and he's chasing after a little boys neat black hair and flailing arms, small feet padding in the pines and moss; He'll never catch him. He looks at Loki and thunder writhes with the sea for a moment, before the demons must come, and he's stolen once more from thin raven hair and soft words of malice. Even with his might and power, he cannot battle these losses that grow from old wounds and scars. He'll let the thorns and vines kill him just to see green roses bud.
"Come home", he says to the lost boy, and for a moment the wayward sons castles fall to the sea, his golden army ceases bloodshed, and he will stand, shaken, suddenly far from the abyss he has been sure he is plunging into headfirst, not sure of his fate anymore. It could never last. This feud could never end and he could never surrender, admit defeat to the the better son.
He looks at him with steels eyes that mean it and silently screams to him, of love and loss, and family, loyalty and betrayal. he could crush him, break his smooth neck and skinny white wrists in weather worn hands of stone and voice of thunder. he need only lose it to the sarcastic remarks of his brother, to end all this, his reign of terror and pettiness. This is the unthinkable to Thor, though, and all he can do is hope to persuade him with the honesty is all he believes in.
Dead forests meet cold steel, twisting and breaking. Fire roars with the clapping thunder, before the silence comes. The sons of kings will fall to the flames, abandoned contest lingering in the road behind them.