Written to: Wake Me Up (Avicii Speed Remix) - Avicii, crosspost from AO3
Ya'aburnee: Literally, "you bury me," the hope that you will die before your love because you cannot live without them.
"You ought to take up archery," Loki prods Thor one day after he has finished training and is taking a long soak in the baths. Loki is sitting carefully perched on the edge, letting his bare legs dangle into the suds. Thor is absentmindedly rubbing one of Loki's feet.
"For what purpose?" Thor wants to know, looking up at Loki. Loki is biting his lip in that absolutely fetching, distracting manner, and Thor is hard pressed not to drag him into the tub, clothes and all, and ravish him. "Is Mjolnir and the power of the storm not enough to protect me?"
"It's not that," Loki says, biting his lip again in thought. Thor swallows roughly, and kneads at the instep of Loki's foot with gentle fingers. "For when I journey to Valhalla."
Thor looks up at this. Finds Loki on the brink of tears.
"Don't cry, fairest," Thor says, reaching up a sudsy, wet hand to cradle Loki's cheek. "That, if it ever comes, will not be for several millennia yet. We're gods, after all."
"You'll shoot the arrow, won't you?" Loki asks, clinging to Thor's hand and looking down at him with huge, watery eyes. "Say you will. Swear it."
Thor sighs, strokes over the sweep of Loki's cheekbone with a sudsy thumb, and agrees.