[ The chains lash again, startling him into a brief, bucking resistance, like a stallion fighting against the bit, and then Thor settles with the banked fire glowing still in his eyes, a hot anger heavy in his breast with the weight of love which sits like a shackle around him, which he cannot go free of. ]

You fear to keep me in your bed. Instead you will send me away, and tremble alone and cold and wrathful tonight because I spoke to you of love when you would rather have my hatred. [ He hurls the accusations like javelins, and thinks that surely one or another must strike its mark, for he knows this is what his brother wants of him: that there be bitterness and rage and an insurmountable distance between them, that the bonds of kinship be ripped apart for the sake of Loki's vengeance. He does not think of himself made the display of his brother's lust and madness. Or if he does it is but briefly, his skin flushing as though with fever, and his struggle against his bonds renewed. ]

It is you who fears me, I think, that you must so erase all semblance of tenderness between us. [ he says prideful and angry and wanting. ] I can see how you tremble, my brother.