Thor was clinging to the hatred he could see in Loki's eyes, the venom that seemed to simply ooze from his pores and could remind him of the thousand reasons they had to be at odds. But fear on his kin's face is harder to force into a nameless foe, a proof that Loki is yet far afield.

Thor is indeed out of excuses - to prolong this. His heart, so recently beating fit to leap from his chest, feels as though it's given up on him. His chest feels cold and empty and it's reflected in his eyes, so easily showing his emotions. "Loki," he breathes, and it's a death rattle of his own. A little bit of the fire that all know Thor for is gone from his eyes, remiss everywhere except in his duty-bound hands.

Mjolnir is retrieved from where she sticks in the cloying mess around them, mud slipping across the handle but sadly not interrupting Thor's grip. "I am no smith with words as you are, but I have one thing to say." No, there's a fire again - his eyes burn hotly, wet trails of tears joining the rain on his face. Thor thinks he sees one of them fall to collect on Loki's neck, but surely it's just the storm he's conjured around them, that feels fit to rent them in two.

If only his lightning could do it for him and he didn't need to watch, but Thor must. He can't look away. "I love you." He can't do this.

His shoulder contracts, arm muscles bulging angrily with a burst of traitorous movement, and Thor's hammer comes down on his brother's head.