Don't Leave Me the Way I Am
Chapter Six
The Bifrost itself sits on the end of the rainbow bridge. Thor can see it, barely visible in the distance, a giant spinning globe of gold perched at the far orbit of Asgard's edge. But they do not plan to make it that far just on foot.
Thor follows behind his parents, walking at a leisurely pace. He can faintly hear the metronome clink-clank of heavily armored guards hanging back.
The family travels down the path made bright by a kaleidoscope of colours, a never-ending stream of tiny opals in motion, shining underfoot. He watches as his mother skips forwards, carefree and happy, long dusty-blond hair curling in the slight breeze. Odin brushes his cape tame and with arms locked behind his back, he proudly marches alongside her. The colours play off both their faces, lights Frigga's dress up in a million points of light.
Loki's green cape swishes against Thor's calf.
It is seldom that they are all together like this, enjoying each other's presence. The last day he recalled seemed so long ago. Maybe there were other days he'd forgotten in between, but he remembered one moment the best, right before Odin slipped into the first sleep Thor had ever had witnessed.
The four of them, out riding in Mother's favourite sections of the gardens, the pollen and fluff turned golden in the sunlight and drifting all around. Odin, riding proudly in front, setting the course. The long curls of Frigga's hair, bouncing along with the horse. Thor, sticking long blades of grass into Loki's ear.
The fragrance of blossoms was so strong; they flavoured Thor's memory into something unimaginably sweet. It made it all the more difficult to ever let that image go. Perhaps a part of him still lived there, in between the blossoms. But that was before the frost had come and dried it all up.
"Simply beautiful," Frigga announces, arms thrown into the air as she swirls around to smile at her two sons. "Isn't it? On clear nights, like this."
Thor and Loki exchange an amused glance when Odin lets out a grunt, his best lecture voice making an appearance.
"Peace itself is a beautiful thing. And calm skies are a reflection of good spirits." Odin looks over his shoulder, golden eyepatch glinting in the play of lights. "Eh, Thor?"
Thor can feel the flush come on despite of himself. Still, he laughs and shakes his head, patting Mjölnir which swings from his hip, "Aye, I am free of demons in my head."
"He is free of a mind in that head," Loki snickers under his breath and Thor cuffs him on the ear with a fist.
"Fortunate that you may rule without a queen." Frigga murmurs with laughing eyes that mirror Loki's. She comes close to pat Thor on the cheek. Her head is cocked to the side with a sly look. "For you will remain demon-less longer yet."
Odin snorts, "Thor has the hammer, which is far better a companion than any maiden."
"Yes, Father!" Thor beams, hefting Mjölnir in agreement.
"Really now?" Frigga raises one eyebrow and huffs, turning away, but Odin catches her around the waist.
"Of course its brilliance became but a shadow when I did meet you. It was pertinent to spurn its power in the face of your beauty."
"Hah!" Frigga lets out a very loud mirthful sound and slaps at Odin's shoulder. "Pray thee stop! Lest you say something more foolish."
When Thor steals a glance at his brother, Loki has a sweet smile gracing his lips.
They follow a natural trajectory, automatically finding the path to walk side by side, behind their parents. A path so long followed, stretching for as far as time could take them.
The bright stars of the clear Asgardian sky are reflected in the luminous road underneath their feet. Golds and greens and pinks and electric blues swirling together, bouncing off each other in a beautiful magic show. The rune-scribed disks of Thor's armor hum in answer. Magic was power and knowledge all rolled into one.
He knows Loki can feel it too, that power, perhaps stronger than Thor. His green eyes are dancing with life. His brother does not taunt him with blown kisses or tricky smiles in this moment and Thor cannot help it. He is buoyant on this feeling on love, love for his brother. It comes so easily, slips out of him like overflowing water, spilling from a pair of cupped hands.
It doesn't matter if the brothers have been fighting, arguing, or mistrustful of the other. To fall back into step beside Loki is inevitable as the roots and branches of Yggdrasil ever reaching out. They may curl into different spaces, but they will always stem from the same places, the same feelings, the same home.
There has been talk of Kingship.
A coronation is to take place. Thor is to become a King.
"You are brave, Thor." Loki murmurs to him. They are both watching their joyful parents instead of looking at each other. It's near impossible, to look each other in the eye over this. "To take on Kingship. I would find it too difficult, I think. There are so many facets of the world we do not yet understand."
Thor snorts at the absurdity, "I know all there is to know of Asgard."
Loki gifts him with a cock of the head, a deep curling smile on his lips. "Yes, but Asgard is not the jewel I speak of. There are other worlds out there, places the AllFather's power has not touched. They are uncut, raw worlds. All of which only understand the language of war."
"The old ways will change," Thor tells him with determination. He'd make them all proud. "When I am King, we will stretch out, become bigger. A mighty army, mightier than ever before."
"Asgardian warriors are much like Bilgesnipe." Loki rolls his eyes. He tips his head to watch the sky and Thor does so as well, wondering vaguely what they were meant to see.
"And what of the conquered creatures? Do you plan to invite such savagery into our home?"
Thor grins.
"I think the Frost Giants of Jotunheim are much taken care of, Loki."
Loki snorts and slaps Thor on the arm, pushing him away enough so that they're a length apart before they fall back, walking closer than before. That's how it's always been with them.
"You jest, Brother. Right. In this New Asgard," His eyebrows rise to disappear behind the low brim of his helm, "Where do I fit in?"
"Why, by my side of course."
There is a moment of pause and Thor realizes he has misspoke.
"That is to say—"
Loki takes his elbow, "On the battlefield or in the palace?"
"Where you have always been."
Loki laughs and hangs his head, letting go. "Following you."
"Do you believe there's a better place than this, out there?"
Thor has been to several other realms. He's known the freedom they sell, the enticing exoticness, the adventure. But it pales in comparison, to the shine of Asgard, home.
And Loki looks at him then, with that distant look he sometimes gets. The one Thor doesn't quite understand but wishes he could, to see just as far.
"I think the same as I have before. There are facets, Thor, and we must each find the ones in which we shine."
"You did promise to cut back on this drunken nonsense."
"That was not an invitation for you to tag along as my keeper," Thor grumbles at Loki in complaint.
Despite Loki's dismissive shrug, Thor is in good spirits, shaking the rapidly melting snow from his cloak. It's chilled outside and the curling arm of warmth inside the bar enfolds them quickly, washing away any lingering frost.
"Besides, a few pints are customary after such an amazing kill." Fandral laughs, slapping both brothers on their backs. Loki sneers slightly and Thor laughs it off.
"Three long days and nights camped out in that frostbitten tent," Hogun mutters under his breath.
"Yes, you did yourselves proud tonight," Thor commends.
Fandral beams, "That I did, that I did. I shall add another trophy to the wall, at any rate."
"Alas he still hunts for humbleness." Sif sighs in relief, removing her hood as she enters behind them. "Volstagg is dragging the carcass 'round the back for the butcher. Think he'll save us a piece?"
"I care not, really. I am too full of pride."
"I can think of what else you are full of..." Hogun deadpans.
Thor shakes his head at his friends' banter.
Loki appropriates a table for the group and it isn't long before good spirits are soaring, held aloft on the general raucous of enjoyable story-telling and fine food.
"Oh, she has the most wonderful bosom..." Volstagg simpers from behind a meat haunch, eyeing a fair maiden across the dining hall. The same woman he has been eyeing all night, obvious to all, as Volstagg's adoring gaze seldom left his plate during mealtimes.
Sif rolls her eyes. "Do not be fooled. It is a rouse. Can't you see the handkerchiefs that spill from her bustier? The cushion strapped to her hips? It is a man dressed as a lady."
"WHAT!" Volstagg shouts.
"I hear it can be a form of play." Sif shrugs, and the men of the table stare openly at her.
"Do not ask me how I've obtained this knowledge." She cringes, "Please."
Volstagg is blinking owlishly, tilting his head sideways in awe, as though he expects the woman to transform before his very eyes if he catches her in the right light.
"No... It cannot be."
"Be it true or false, she is lovely to look at," Fandral puts in, throwing a cleaned bone down into his plate. "Though Volstagg's dear face is by far more entertaining, ha!"
Volstagg slaps at the table. "Nonsense!"
"I tell you it is true!"
"I don't believe it!"
"Then by all means, follow 'her' to the water chambers..." Hogun suggests.
"You are quiet, Brother." Loki says under his breath, tapping a finger against Thor's knee under the table.
Thor grimaces and chews slower, trying to draw out the time before he's expected to reply.
Loki smirks, gaze sliding towards Volstagg's recent questionable interest, and then his gaze pointedly returns to settle on Thor with a deep, probing question visible in those green eyes. He snickers and leans to speak into Thor's ear so that no one else may hear. "Is it because 'she' is your...sort?" One black eyebrow jumps. "Jealous?"
There are no qualms about it as Thor quickly cuffs Loki on the back of the head.
"Ackk! What was that for?" Loki complains as he rubs the tender spot. "That hurt."
Thor's looking around suspiciously, but no one in the bar pays them any mind, "It is..." He stops and then speaks louder.
"It is impolite to speak of ladies that way."
Loki's mouth falls open. Sif and the Warriors laugh in earnest.
"Thor," Fandral is chuckling and brandishes a fresh pitcher of ale, "You are much too straight-laced tonight. Here, another."
"He will not," Loki scowls and pushes the proffered frothing tankard away.
"He can make his own decisions." Thor scowls fiercely and grabs up the closest drink, which happened to be the whole pitcher.
"Don't," Loki starts but Thor quells this with a furious look that only dissolves as he tips the brim of the pitcher to his lips.
"Know your place, Brother." Thor says through clenched teeth and then he is gulping, eyes closed, relishing in the pleasant warmth and fizz that pours down his throat.
"Excellent!" Volstagg crows and procures his own pitcher, ready to join the fray.
"Yes, do that," Loki tells him as he stands quickly, pushing his chair back, "I'm sure if you drink enough, it will not matter that your damsel is readjusting her false breast."
"And where do you go?" Thor demands, anger bubbling up.
"Oh. No where important," Loki replies nastily, "Just seeing to a bit of fun."
Loki stalks away from the table and Thor is not sorry to see him go. His brother is probably off to be with some woman. He always seems to go off with some woman, some faceless maiden who Thor has never seen by her face. Except for that one time, across the dancehall, when he'd received Mjölnir.
Thor drinks deeply, sorely wishing he could drop this wall of propriety he's built over the years. But even drink has not broken this moral down, for Thor is nothing if not stubborn. His friends are banging away a tempo with their fists against the table and Thor lets the rhythm overtake him, guide him, until the last drops of ale are gone.
He wishes he did not have care of who he admired. But that is all he cares about. Who.
Across the room, there is a spark of magic and a thump as a wad of cloth and a plump round fruit roll out of a woman's shirt. She shrieks in dismay.
"My word... Prince Thor?" A hesitant voice cuts through Thor's haze as he slams an empty tankard down. "Is that you?"
"Eh?" Thor belches, scratching his head, and looks over his shoulder. "What?"
"My liege!" The face put to the voice is familiar and Thor squints, tilting his head.
"It's me," The man replies earnestly, standing a respectable distance away from the table littered with glasses. Across from Thor, Sif is groaning drunkenly into the pillow made by her folded arms and the Warriors Three have congregated by a booth full of young maidens celebrating some cause or another.
"I am Dagur. I trained you how to ride horses, when you were small. Don't you recall?" Dagur's smile turns nostalgic and soft and Thor does remember this. Very clearly.
"I do," He says and at Dagur's bright grin, Thor's heart lightens. "Of course I do! Sit down, sit. How are you?"
"I am good, my liege." Dagur replies, tentatively taking a seat. Thor realizes he has a cane now, to aid a slight limp.
"Nonsense. It has always been just 'Thor' for my favourite teacher! What has kept you busy these years?"
Dagur laughs. "I work further out of the city now, in the rural end. The Allfather found an excellent job for me there." There is a rueful look in those dark eyes and Thor vividly remembers how unfair it was that this man was sent away.
"What are you doing here?" Thor asks respectfully.
"Oh, enjoying a pint." Dagur gestures to the table. "You seem to be enjoying yourself as well."
Thor takes notice of the scattered tankards and pitchers and feels a thread of embarrassment. Knows he is not really himself on nights like this. But Dagur does not seem to take offence. He orders the two of them another round, and Dagur happily clinks glasses with him before they down the drinks with deep gulps.
Thor exhales, wiping the back of his mouth with his arm.
Dagur is leaning chin against palm, elbow heavy against the table. His kind face is slack with the buzz of ale, a comforting friendly sight. Thor tilts his tankard at the man politely.
"You so enjoyed your lessons. Tell me, do you still... ride?"
Thor sits back, languishing in his chair and slightly confused. "But of course, I do. My steed is tied just outside."
"No, no, no, Thor." Dagur's grin fades quickly into a more intent expression. He touches Thor's knee. "I meant... Well, I still give lessons, you know?"
Thor just barely restrains a surprised gasp, fire spreading across his skin at the feel of the older man's hand, sliding up his thigh. A sure hand, the same which Thor had watched growing up, tending to the horses, lifting him up to the saddles. There is a raised bump, a scar maybe, on the meaty heel of his palm and its hardness draws a tight lace of excitement in Thor. Makes his blood rush.
He bites his lip and their eyes meet.
"You have grown up so strong and handsome, Thor." Dagur tells him slowly, deliberately complimentary.
Thor blinks then snorts with a smug feeling creeping up his spine, "I have always been handsome."
Dagur laughs heartily and Sif, who had fallen asleep, jerks in her slumber, grumbling.
"We should not disturb her, the night grows old. I have a room upstairs until I go back to the farm tomorrow, would you accompany me?"
He did not mean for this to happen.
Thor is awoken from his groggy bleary-eyed state as Sif bursts into the room, heels clicking a harsh rhythm across the old wooden floors. It's still dark out, only been a few hours, dawn not yet ready to paint the sky. There is still time to sleep.
"Thor, get up." She wrings the furs from his head and then gasps, shrill, gives a moan of despair. "Oh, I did not to see that. I didn't. My eyes..."
"Mhgrhh..."
"Thor," She admonishes, voice much too loud.
"Did you find him?" Volstagg calls from the door, louder still and spurs a steady pounding in Thor's head. "Oh, please tell me we have. Loki is going to cut off our—"
"Dear me," Fandral clutches at his chest, coming into the room.
"Yes," Sif replies. "He is not clothed!"
"I can see that." Fandral's head tilts sideways. "Oh feast your eyes, Sif, you prude."
"Me!"
And all of a sudden Thor is surrounded, a shivering confused thing amongst the empty bedding. He tugs at a pelt to cover his head yet again. Sif yanks it away.
"Oh, hmm... Oh. Uh. Dear me." Fandral kneels by the bed and gently takes Thor's face between gloved hands. Then slaps him a few times.
"Thor. Thor?"
"What!" Thor grunts, squinting his eyes. "You dare wake me—"
"Oh yes, you. Wake up. Wake up now. Now, now, now—"
"Too late," Hogun warns and then there is a surge of magic that makes Thor's hair stand on end.
The static frizzles against his skin and Thor is awake. More than awake, he's sobered by it as he's thrown onto his back while his friends go flying against the crooked walls of the old tavern.
Loki comes stalking into the room, his narrowed calculating eyes surveying every surface every object as if he expects a monster to come lunging out of the small blockish shadows.
The sight rips away the fog that's been draped over Thor's mind.
"Brother," Thor gasps and immediately covers himself.
"Thor," Loki returns coldly, pacing. His indifferent tone sends a shot of guilt straight through Thor's gut.
They watch Loki warily, watch him slow and then stop. He presses steepled fingers to his lips in thought.
"What you see here is evidence of an act of violence against the Crown Prince. I suggest that you find him, the one called Dagur." Loki says pensively. The Warriors snap to attention at that, the express command delivered in a King's voice. Ruthless.
"Track down that piece of filth and present his damned soul before the authorities for his transgressions. No man in Asgard can take what he wants without penance."
Thor gapes disbelievingly as the Warriors Three exchange determined glances before quickly filing out the door.
Sif stays by Thor's side, places a firm hand on his shoulder. The action seems to give Loki pause.
Thor swallows, realizing Loki and Sif are glaring at each other.
"You are not needed here, Loki," Sif addresses with ill-hidden contempt. "You may go. Thor is fine, see? There was no need for such a scene. The Warriors Three and I can—"
"—Cannot take care of Thor. Not as I have done for longer than your pathetic camaraderie." Loki stalks forward, a cruel twitchy smirk creeping up as he shakes his head. "You think too highly of yourself if you look down on a Prince."
Sif immediately stiffens with a chagrined expression and she hesitantly lets her hand slip from Thor's shoulder. "I... I am sorry, my liege."
"Loki," Thor starts but Loki does not pay him any mind.
"Yes," Loki agrees with Sif. "You are sorry. Now go, and make sure your bumbling friends do not breathe a word of this."
"We will tell no gossip," Sif grits out, her high offence obvious.
"See that you do not."
There's a wave of magic and Thor's hit in the face with his clothing. He pulls the items on quickly, trying not to pause as he comes across the odd bruise or red scratch. Covers himself up. But seeing the slight hook of smugness catch the corner of Loki's lips sets the pit of Thor's stomach boiling with rage.
"Brother," Loki gathers up his proud red cape from the floor and Thor lumbers out of the pile of furs.
"Loki," Thor grunts, fists clenching, fear clenching harder. "Loki, I do not know what I've—"
Loki's eyes are slits and his voice a hiss when he says, "We are leaving."
Thor bares his teeth, incensed, "I told you not to accompany me."
And then there is an abrupt lurch under his feet and they are suddenly standing outside in the back of the establishment next to a frozen-over well. Thor shivers, uncomprehending, and looks around wildly realizing Loki has used one of his tricks to magic them outside.
"I have been searching for you all night," Loki says quietly, just barely a whisper above the cold winter winds that stir.
Thor stiffens.
"Thor," Loki reaches out and Thor flinches, but the hand that closes around his own is fierce in its strength. "Take us home."
So Thor calls for Mjölnir, which comes crashing through the bar's brick wall. And they fly.
They enter the palace in silence, windblown and red-faced, the clouds thickening overhead in the sky.
Loki leads Thor back to his chambers, swinging open the heavy door with one hand.
Thor half-expects them to lay back against the bedding, like when they were children, like back when he'd first heard Odin's scornful words. Back when he'd learnt exactly what he was and how it would eventually destroy him. This is all like some vicious circle, leading him back here to his room, caught. Loki's hand on his shoulder the only tether to rationale.
He's angry. So angry, and the furious shakes keep coming. Makes Thor thrum with the need to smash something, ram a dagger through a foe and spill blood, crush that invisible enemy's skeleton until he can feel bones not his own rattle with each step. He's mad, so mad.
"Thor—"
Thor immediately grabs bookcase and tosses it to the floor.
Loki flinches as it splinters against the stones, what few books housed on the unfortunate thing are fluttering and torn. Fine pottery and personal trinkets, broken and gone.
"Temper, temper."
Thor snarls, pacing wildly.
"RWARGHH!" Thor rips a giant tapestry from the wall.
"THOR!" Loki yells.
"Do not start, Brother!" Thor growls, spilled belongings crunching under his boots. "I need not hear your lectures, for surely Father will hear about this soon enough and—"
"Cease your bellows!"
Loki stamps forward and with a wave of his hand the mess of Thor's chambers is vanished. The sight sets Thor's stomach clenching in fury, that his righteous anger can be so cleanly wiped away. As if it didn't exist. And Thor burns to destroy something else. Mjölnir vibrates warningly from where he's dropped it by the door.
"No one will hear of it, save for your friends. And they will not talk." Now it is Loki who paces, sharp boot heels clacking against the floor. "As for Dagur, oh, I know spells. Memory erasers. And that disgusting letch will know them intimately—"
"Loki, you harm ANYONE on my behalf and WE WILL HAVE WORDS—"
"Then I will WIN!" Loki snaps, breathing harshly, "You are clumsy at words, Thor. You couldn't talk me out of something if you tried."
Thor inhales deeply and the sudden burn of air inflames his rage. How he hates being WRONG.
"It's just..." Thor drags vicious hands through his hair, pulling in frustration. He paces anew with Loki following close behind. Faced with someone willing to listen intently, Thor is at a loss with what to say. He hates when Loki is correct.
"It's not..." Thor starts, uncertainly, "Normal. Not right... But I, it's never gone so far. I don't even remember." Thor gulps, swallowing down the shame that rises like bile. "It's not right. To take pleasure in—"
"You're not wrong, Thor."
Loki's arms wrap around his waist from behind and Thor freezes. Confused at the action, confused by the sudden crash of awe that hits him, with this simple touch. Loki's voice is low in between his shoulder blades and the embrace tightens, Loki's vambraces cutting in. The warring pain and pleasure of the sensation causes Thor's heart to bounces violently within his chest.
"If you are, then what does that make anyone else who has ever felt that way? Are so many people wrong?" Loki shakes his head, forehead sweeping the question's answer into Thor's back. "So, you see, you can't be. You're not."
There is an unbelievable hard lump in Thor's throat. He turns in his brother's embrace, to look into his face.
"You won't say anything, will you?"
"Who would believe me?" Loki replies.
"That's not the same thing as—"
"Don't worry..." Loki whispers, and it is with a sort of oddly determined vehemence that's rare to hear from his brother's silver tongue, "I will protect you. No man will ever be caught touching you again."
Thor lets that sentiment sink in.
He's so used to being the protector, the warrior, that he's straining against the need to rebuff Loki. Reject the help. But he can't do that. He won't do that. Thor brings a hand up to cup the crown of Loki's head, keeping him close. Can't help but smile and even chuckle, just a little bit, at the irony. It's not something he's prone to noticing, but in this instance, it's okay.
"It seems a man is still touching me," Thor says.
He can feel Loki's answering grin against the side of his neck.
"It appears so."
Thor bites his lip. Leans his cheek atop Loki's soft hair. Loki is not to be dislodged, keeps his arms locked tight around Thor. It is not something Thor can even hope to deny. His hand smoothes down Loki's warm back and Loki nuzzles against his neck. All of a sudden Thor has to blink furiously to keep the blurriness in his eyes at bay.
Loki pulls back and draws a soft thumb across Thor's stubbled cheek, his chin. It's all too exciting, makes him too lightheaded, too stupid, and Thor presses his lips together tightly before Loki can touch those too.
"Shh," Loki lets the hush of his affectionate breath ghost over Thor's mouth and thumbs at his lower lip until Thor relents, lips parting to drink in a much needed gulp of air.
Loki presses a quick, shallow kiss to his lips.
"Uh, Loki..." Thor gulps again, "You have a very strange way of helping."
The smirk on Loki's mouth is positively evil.
"I'm not any good at it, I know."
Loki kisses him again.
Thor tries to jerk back but his limbs are sluggish, like wading through water. There's a soft, unthinkably soft, lick against his lips. The hot touch of tongue against tongue. Thor gasps and Loki holds him in place with steady arms linked around his neck.
"Thor, come on," Loki murmurs against his mouth. "Kiss me."
"I...don't—" Thor shudders with want but Loki holds him still, cool touch a balm against the sick heat that has sprung up along Thor's skin.
"You can be you," Loki tells him, rubbing their noses together torturously slow. His spiky black eyelashes are fanned low. Loki finds Thor's hand and a thumb strokes his palm, a strong line across the raised scar there.
His voice is low, so quiet, a secret, "You're with me. You can be you."
Thor exhales and cups Loki's neck. His grip tightens and Loki lets himself be pulled back so that Thor can see him clearly. Thor just holds him there.
"I know," Thor tells him simply, unable to articulate all that he wants to say. Looking into those eyes, he rests his forehead against Loki's for just a moment. And Loki tilts up, soft lips searching, but Thor turns away. Gives him two firm pats on the cheek. He may as well have slapped his brother, for the hurt confused expression that blossoms upon his face.
Thor gently breaks them apart and Loki's eyebrows turn up.
"You don't have to try anymore," Thor mumbles.
The reason Thor loves Loki beyond anyone else is because of this.
Because he is doing it for Thor.
Because Loki is the only one who has never shamed him for his difference. Has always acted as though he doesn't see one at all. Out of everyone, it has been only his brother who never looked at Thor differently. Always by his side, always there to protect him, even when Thor didn't want it. Especially when he didn't want it.
Loki, the person-shaped reason why Thor is mighty. Loki, his love and brother, one in the same.
So Thor feels all the more guilty, for thinking these things about Loki. How much he wants to erase the lines that have been drawn so deeply between them, around them, tying them together until there's no room to move.
There's this unreadable look in Loki's dilated eyes before he nods once and keeps his chin dipped low.
They do not attempt to speak.
They stand there, in front of the window until the first drops of rain are tapping on the glass. They watch until its pounding, rattling with chunks of hail, and a white stripe of lightning rips through the night in the far away distance without a sound.
Thunder drumrolls across the sky.
It's with an odd lurch Thor realizes nothing will ever live up to that sweet press of lips with his brother. He knows he can't have it in the way he wants, that it's wrong and could never be. But at least he knows Loki would never leave him, if he doesn't say it out loud. They're brothers. They'll always be together.
The acceptance of this fact follows so naturally, yet still knocks the breath out of Thor, to even think of it, to even realize what it means.
For Thor is always going to be this way. Now, and for the rest of his life.
And life is so very long.
More often than not, the one you love and the one who loves you are never the same person.
He does not indulge in drink as much as before.
That part is behind him, so far behind, pushed away by Time's hands. It is only when Thor is throwing his customary goblet into the fire, on the cusp of his coronation, that he realizes how far he's come.
"Another, sir?" The attendant lifts his tray of wine but before Thor can answer, he shrieks, spilling the red liquid against the golden floor. Magical snakes curl around themselves, sinister and intoxicated.
"Waste of good wine, Brother." Thor says, greeting a smiling thinking Loki who slinks into the room.
"No trick is ever wasted on you," Loki answers, cocking his head.
The roar of the awaiting crowd is audible even inside the palace, and nerves start to spin into a large uncertain knot in Thor's gut. Perhaps all of Asgard is out there. But he's glad, so glad, that Loki has come to be by his side in this moment.
"Brother, thank you," Thor is prompted to say, gratefulness from an overflowing heart. "You saw how far I'd fallen into a rut. You fixed me."
Loki pays him a puzzled look, but Thor knows very well that Loki always understands what he means. His brother does not smile as he speaks.
"I always thought of guilt as such a waste of emotion. It keeps you from living in the moment, pushes you from where you may stand. Pushes you far away."
Loki steps closer.
"I'm glad you're in good spirits Thor, but I did not fix you. You've always been fine."
"But I wasn't," Thor protests, unsure of what else he could say. How could he ever explain it all, even to the person who understood him the most? As if he can sense Thor's indecision, Loki sighs and smiles, placing a comforting hand upon Thor's arm to bring him back to reality, the moment.
"There's a difference, you know." Loki instructs with that know-it-all flare he's so practiced at. His grip tightens. "Between guilt and shame. We feel guilty for what we do. We feel shame for what we are."
Loki tilts his chin up and he looks so golden, in this light, the reflection of the golden walls bouncing off his pale skin. Thor takes a deep breath, places his own hand heavily atop Loki's on his arm. They're a pair, the two of them. In all the stars, in all the universe, there would be no one like them. And Thor is so very glad of this, because he's certain one set is bad enough.
"No one can help who they are." Loki continues. Puts a comforting cool hand upon Thor's cheek. "And you have done nothing wrong."
Thor savours the sound of Loki's smooth voice, low and almost a whisper, like this is just another secret that Thor has never known.
"In truth, maybe it is I, who has done wrong..." And Loki pauses, a moment of uncertainty, "Thor, please, never doubt that I love you."
The lump in his throat throbs, beats, as though his heart is trying to escape. As though he's trying to speak his heart, but can't, because there are no words that can match this feeling, this longing, this love. It is natural then, to lean down and wrap his arms around his brother's back, folding carefully, holding him as tightly as he dares.
"Is that sincere?" Thor asks under his breath, even though he knows the answer. Has always known, when Loki was telling the truth.
Loki pulls back just enough to angle Thor's face down and he places the softest, most chaste kiss against the corner of Thor's mouth. It says what words cannot, this kiss, this tiny press of lips. Because words can change.
It says only what Thor needs to hear.
"I swear."
It is after this when the Frost Giants infiltrate Asgard and Thor believes turnabout is fair play. The thing about that though, is that things have never gone simply for Thor.
And he winds up on Midgard, banished.