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peachyjinx · 7 days ago

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LYHOM: Ch 2: Unsettled

Summary: Charlotte attends her first class with Professor Laufeyson. Loki reflects on returning to his new routine. W/C 3k

Warnings: None

LYHOM Masterlist / Ao3

It was Tuesday, and Charlotte paced in her tiny bedroom in her pajamas, already caffeinated and worried about her first class of the morning. A Study of Asgardian History and Culture was starting in an hour, and she was already worried about Professor Laufeyson.

As a girl, her favorite books had always been about mythology: Greek, Persian, Native American– but Norse had been her favorite. But the reality of dealing with the actual Prince Laufeyson, God of Mischief, when he was already pissed at her, was unnerving.

With a deep breath that did little to steady her nerves, Charlotte recalled the flash of his icy gaze from their last unpleasant exchange. She regretted letting her temper get the best of her.

She needed to learn to be more like Kate. Kate had it figured out— she just didn’t let anyone get to her— she had an admirable unflappable demeanor, an easy grace under pressure. But that was a skill that was hard for Charlotte to practice when someone really pissed her off. And Professor Laufeyson really pissed her off. His arrogance was infuriating— how did other people tolerate it?

Looking in her dresser, Charlotte planned out what to wear— she wanted to blend in as much as possible in his class. Sweatshirt and leggings? No, too casual, he may chide her for that. She grabbed the blandest oversized sweater she had (curse her flair for bright colors) and jeans. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her? That was stupid, of course he would.

Idiot, she thought to herself.

What could he really do? Would he go so far as to kick her out of class? She hoped he wasn’t that petty. Charlotte had been anticipating this class as soon as she was accepted to the school, brimming with enthusiasm to learn about ancient civilizations from an actual former god. She took a deep breath and tried to shrug off her worry as she got dressed.

Charlotte timed her arrival perfectly with the rest of the class and headed towards the back row of the room, nervously scoping out her spot for the rest of the semester. The view wasn’t great, but that was for the best— she didn’t want her arrogant, unnaturally sexy professor distracting her.

Yes, unfortunately, he was sexy. Charlotte had noticed that fact like every other person in that coffee shop. His otherworldly aura combined with his perfect physique and perfectly sculpted face and perfectly styled hair had made their encounter even more infuriating. She suppressed her momentary attraction and observed the bustling around her.

As the other students shuffled around and took their seats, she noticed that the women and men in this room were nearly overdressed. Students in this school, from what she had seen in yesterday’s classes, were normally dressed very casually. Sweatshirts, joggers, even one young woman had worn pajama bottoms. But in this class…she could tell they showed up looking their best for Professor Laufeyson. Oh, he must love that, she rolled her eyes.

A tall, lanky young man in a flannel clambered in next to Charlotte, taking the seat beside her with a nod and a warm smile. She smiled back as she pulled out her old laptop and prepared for class.

A quiet hush fell upon the room as Professor Laufeyson walked in. He was dressed in a dark black suit with a white shirt that that popped against the black tie, making him look like he stepped off of the runway, rather than into a classroom. His confident walk and the regal air about him made Charlotte really want to like him more. He was so crush-worthy. Sexy and smart and he knew it. Then she thought about how he talked down to her in the cafe and she quickly soured.

“Welcome to A Study of Asgardian History and Culture. You will find this course to be challenging, but rewarding,” Professor Laufeyson said in a friendly, welcoming tone as he swiftly set his bag down at his desk.

“The university has made a requirement that I confirm attendance at every class. I will do so this morning, but going forward you’re to sign in at the sheet near the front door. I will only spend thirty minutes reviewing the course rules and syllabus today, and then we will jump right into the course material,” he sat at his desk, pulling out the class roster.

Charlotte felt a lump in her throat, tension building in her chest. She couldn’t escape— he would immediately identify her. All her hopes of maybe going a few weeks without him recognizing her were dashed in a fleeting moment.

Calm down, you didn’t do anything wrong. She tried to assure herself as he went through the “A”s. And maybe he won’t recognize her— there’s always a chance?

“Charlotte Baker,” he called out, looking around the room with an inquisitive scan of the class.

Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice.

“Here,” she called out, trying to even her voice as much as possible despite her heart racing.

He surveyed the room, his eyes passing her for a moment, then going back to her. His eyes narrowed in recognition.

“Charlotte. Baker.,” Professor Laufeyson repeated, and she nervously nodded. A small smirk pulled at his lips, and he looked back down at his list and continued to read more names aloud.

As he finished roll call, Charlotte sunk into her seat, a wave of dread settling over her. He remembered her. She felt like a bug caught in a spider’s web. It was one thing to confront him in her place of work, but now she was in his classroom, at his mercy. She sighed and took another deep breath, trying to concentrate on him instead of spiraling.

“And now I will begin the class by reviewing a list of frequently asked questions. I will be answering them in this session only, and will not be discussing further,” the professor stood to address the class.

“Firstly— what am I the former god of? I have been known by many names: the God of Evil, God of Lies, God of Mischief…,” he smiled proudly as he looked over the class.

“In this class, you do not need to address me in any way other than Professor Laufeyson. But do know, though now I may seem subdued in nature, I still have a predilection towards these other natures. And I will still know when you’re lying to me, so don’t bother,” he claimed sternly, looking around the room.

“Second: no, I did not, in fact, have sex with a horse. That was a fun story courtesy of my brother, Thor. Theoretically, it’s possible. But if it’s animal fornication that you’re interested in, may I suggest speaking with our resident Greek pantheon expert, Professor Berman, down the hall,” he quipped, and the class laughed a little too loudly.

“Third: no, I don’t talk to Thor. Or the Avengers if I can help it. I won’t be answering any questions about them,” a bitterness tinged his voice.

“Also, a lot of myths that Midgardians like to tell of us and our lives are often false or grandiose. So leave what you thought you knew about us at the door, and assume what you know is false.”

Professor Laufeyson continued to walk back and forth, slowly, deliberately. Charlotte admired his ability to command attention in the room. She glanced around and there wasn’t a single student distracted by their phones or taking notes. All eyes were on their professor.

“Questions often come up revolving around New York,” he continued, his tone now taking a darker edge to it. The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

“I will not be discussing it. If you ask anything about my time in New York, you will be kicked out of my classroom,” his eyes were serious, menacing as he surveyed his audience.

A shiver ran down Charlotte’s spine— he was so intimidating. She was suddenly reminded that he had once been a serious villain, conquering worlds and taking what he wants.

“Now, let’s discuss Yggrdasil, the World Tree, and how everything you humans have believed is wrong,” he cheerfully changed the subject, heading to the blackboard on the walls.

Professor Laufeyson spent the next hour explaining the world tree, the other realms, and the Asgardian time periods. He assigned a paper for the class— to analyze and compare the Asgardian ages to humankind ages.

As their teacher dismissed them, Charlotte felt excited again. Listening to him explain these new concepts, worlds that humans had never known existed, was thrilling. Professor Laufeyson’s enthusiasm for his people was contagious. She was beginning to feel that her anxiety over the incident was in her rear view, and that both her and her professor would move past it.

“Wow, a paper already, huh?,” Charlotte joked to the guy next to her as they packed up their things.

“Yea, Laufeyson’s a tough professor. Rumor is no one’s ever gotten an ‘A’ in his class,” he responded with eyebrows raised.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, “Well I’ve already met him once at my work and he was terrorizing the staff over macchiatos, so I guess that tracks.”

“Really? I need to hear that story! My girlfriend is so jealous I got into this class, and she wants any gossip I can bring her. My name’s Ryan by the way,” he gave a small nod, as he shoved his very expensive laptop into his designer bag.

“Nice to meet you Ryan, I’m Charlotte. As soon as we’re out of earshot I’ll tell you all about it,” she grinned as they walked down the stairs and towards the classroom exit.

With a casual glance over her shoulder, Charlotte caught sight of her professor, now distant and detached from the world around him. He sat behind his desk, fingers deftly turning the pages of an old, leather-bound book, his focus absolute.

She wondered why that book held his attention so thoroughly, but only for a moment. With a shake of her head, Charlotte turned away, letting the door close behind her with a soft click. It was time to push Professor Laufeyson to the back of her mind, at least until the next class. For now, she had a new friend to commiserate with.

The faculty parking lot shimmered in the late afternoon sun, heat rising from the asphalt in lazy waves. Loki strode through it with purpose as he checked his watch— four thirty-seven, and he was finally free of student stares and administrative tedium. The first week of the semester always drained him in ways that were uniquely mortal.

The parking lot was emptying steadily now. Faculty members with families hurried to their sensible sedans, rushing home to dinner and domesticity. Loki observed them all with detached amusement. He was contemplating an evening of solitude— perhaps some Wagner accompanying a glass of bordeaux while he read.

“Hey Loki, how’s the first week going?,” a familiar voice asked cheerfully from behind Loki as he walked towards his car.

The tension in Loki’s muscles released in increments as he recognized the voice. Nathaniel Berman— predictable, kind Nathaniel with his rumpled tweed and endless supply of jokes. A dear friend.

A warm smile spread on his face as he turned around. “It’s going surprisingly well,” Loki responded, greeting his friend with a pat on the back. He looked slightly harried, Loki noticed— more so than usual.

“Oh good, glad to hear it! Listen, I’ve gotta jet and get home, want to meet up for drinks next Friday?,” he asked, a little out of breath, obviously in a rush to get somewhere important, but wanting to make sure he carved out time for his friend.

“Sure, that sounds like a plan,” Loki nodded and unlocked his car— an Aston Martin coupe, sleek and black, with fully tinted windows— a car so out of place in a faculty parking lot that it might as well have been a spaceship.

“You also said you’d let me drive in that thing this year,” Nathaniel pointed to Loki’s meticulously clean vehicle as he walked backwards.

Loki chuckled lightly, “I said no such thing, but I admire your bravery to lie to me.”

“I’m going to keep trying!”, he waved and walked towards his rough looking SUV across the lot.

Loki smiled to himself as he opened his car door and sat in the perfectly molded seat, the interior greeting him with the scent of fine leather and subtle cologne— a cocoon of luxury.

As Loki pulled out of the parking lot, he sighed with relief at the day finally ending. Today had actually gone better than he had anticipated. He had expected at least one significant confrontation. Last fall’s return had featured an overeager freshman who’d asked for a selfie “with the alien invasion guy.” The spring before that, a visiting professor had cornered him at the welcome reception and subjected him to an interminable monologue about Norse mythology’s “fascinating misrepresentation in popular media,” apparently oblivious to the irony of lecturing Loki himself on the topic.

The engine purred as he picked up speed, leaving the mid sized town and merging onto the highway towards the property where he lived. The coupe responded to his touch like a well-trained horse, sensitive to the slightest pressure, allowing him the luxury of minimal effort as he left the campus behind. Loki adjusted the sound system, allowing soft classical music to fill the interior as the day melted away.

He had been gone all summer, so it would be nice to get back into his routine. Nice? No, comforting. No, boring, Loki scoffed to himself.

His mind drifted as he passed the other drivers effortlessly, his speed much higher than the limit, and he reflected on the week so far. Despite the day going relatively well, Loki couldn’t ignore the tension in his shoulders. Though his students seemed satisfactory, his thoughts wandered to the impudent young woman who had annoyed him in the coffee shop, and now was in his class.

A fleeting, sensual thought about her hazel eyes and feisty attitude crept into the back of his mind like an invasive vine. Had this been another time, another place, their interaction may have been more pleasurable…the flash of her attitude interrupted his abstraction, bringing him back to reality.

She must’ve known he would be her professor. And yet, she mouthed off to him.The realization intensified his irritation, adding a layer of calculated disrespect to what he had initially dismissed as just a poor temper.

Just like everyone else, her voice echoed in his mind. Loki’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her comments hitting a nerve. He is a Prince. A God. Or he was…

She had no idea who she was messing with. He was going to make that woman’s semester a living hell, no matter how good of a student she was. The thought brought a cold smile to his lips— this was the smile of the old Loki— the trickster, the chaos-bringer, the one who ensured that disrespect never went unpunished.

No— that was the darkness calling him again.

He was here to do a job— teach the Midgardians, not torture them. A low grumble emitted from Loki’s chest as he pushed down on the accelerator, nearly clipping a minivan as he smoothly passed it.

The vengeful thoughts were a seductive, familiar territory that felt more authentic than the restrained academic persona he’d cultivated. They whispered of power and control, of putting mortals in their place, of asserting the superiority that was his birthright. But he recognized the danger in that siren call, the path that had led him to this punishment in the first place.

Stop thinking about the irritating students. Keep your focus.

He had to be good. This could be the year where he finally gets off of this planet. That was the hope that made this exile bearable— that it was temporary, that proper behavior would eventually earn his release, that compliance now would lead to freedom later.

If Loki was anything, he was patient. Centuries of existence had taught him the value of strategic waiting, of allowing events to unfold according to their own rhythm while positioning himself to take advantage when the moment was right.

He could endure this exile a while longer. He could ignore the petty annoyances of inferior people, disallow them from tarnishing his thoughts.

With a deep sigh, Loki changed his negative thoughts towards something he was pleased to think about: dinner. What would he cook tonight? One thing he had learned to appreciate was the variety of humans’ cuisine. In Asgard, the feasts were mainly a giant hunk of roasted meat with roasted vegetables and sometimes fruit. But the wide variety in ingredients and spices on Earth spoke to Loki. The limitless combinations, the subtle interplay of flavors, the precision required for certain techniques— these aspects of cooking satisfied his intellectual curiosity and his appreciation for both structure and creativity. Cooking was not unlike making magic potions and spells.

Contentment washed over Loki as he overtook someone in a ridiculously modded Civic and planned out his meal for the evening. Tonight, he decided, would be a good occasion for coq au vin. Then a good book, perhaps the book on the last years of the Roman republic that Nathaniel had loaned him. Yes, it would be a good night.

He could do this for another year. He just had to focus and ignore the troublesome urges, the whispers in his head telling him to abandon the pretense of compliance and embrace the chaos that still lived within him. Loki reassured himself again, knowing that he was able to will himself to do anything, even if it meant being boring.

Loki’s car pulled into the parking lot of Belvedere’s Fine Foods, the upscale grocer near his house. He easily parked, taking up 4 spaces that he considered entirely reasonable given the value of the vehicle and the general carelessness of Midgardian drivers.

As he stepped out of his small sports car, Loki felt the traces of his earlier frustrations vanish in the early evening air. Ahead of him lay his house, his kitchen, his evening carefully arranged according to his own preferences with no interference. For now, it would have to be enough.

Chapter 3 (released on 27 Jun)

LYHOM Masterlist

LYHOM Playlists

Buy me a coffee 💚

#LYHOM #dom!loki smut #dom!loki #loki smut #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #prof!loki #mcu au #loki series #loki #loki laufeyson

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lokiusly · 2 years ago

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Not Tom Hiddleston saying “Lokius” and acting like he’s never heard of the ship name, acting like he’s not the FOUNDER of the Lokius fanclub 💚✨

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siennafrxst · 1 year ago

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🔭 ₊ ⊹ ~֒ forgive

pairing: loki laufeyson x female reader

universe: mcu (marvel cinematic universe)

timeline: during thor ragnarok

word count: 0.7k words

cw: hurt/comfort

click here to visit my fanfic masterlist.

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You continue to stand observing the stars from afar, glimmering luminously before your eyes. Asgard has just been destroyed due to the events of Ragnarok and the people have lost their home — for now. They were currently heading towards Midgard via a spaceship to take refuge there. Midgardians were one of the lesser intelligent species across the nine realms, but they could be very welcoming at times. Maybe they could build a new life over there…

Footsteps begin to advance towards you from behind, causing you to snap out of your thoughts and turn toward the disruption, only to spot the God of Mishcief approaching you.

A surprised yet secretly pleased expression forms on your face at the sight of Loki. You hadn’t had a proper conversation with him ever since your… fight. About him faking his death twice and impersonating Odin for years and posing to be king and betraying all of Asgard and especially you.

Yeah. A fight was one way to put it.

“Loki,” you breathe softly.

Loki connects his emerald eyes with yours, seeming to be holding something back. He was never one to hesitate, you knew that. He was always so outspoken — you’ve never seen him so rattled like this.

“I… I’m sorry, and I love you,” he mumbles in a soft tone, breaking the eye contact.

Your eyes quickly shoot up towards his, surprised with his sudden burst of affection. Before you could even gather up the words to speak up, he interupts you.

“You don’t have to say anything or even forgive me, but… I realize that I haven't been the best partner to you, and for that I am.. sorry. You have only ever been good to me, and," he stops himself to gently grab your hands and pull you closer. "You deserve so much more. I promise to you that I will do better. If you will let me.”

He sighs deeply, finally maintaining the eye contact and taking a step towards you.

“I’ve missed you since the moment you walked away from me, and I deeply regret letting you go so easily. That will never happen again — I promise.”

After all these years, you are finally hearing the words you’ve been longing to hear from Loki — and then some. You always thought it was a farfetched fantasy, but for once, it actually feels as though he was willing to change. That this time might be different.

You’ve already made the same mistake — twice — forgiving him then only for him to repeat the same mistake and somehow make it worse than how it was before. But, that’s the thing. Even after all his lies, all the betrayals you have endured because of him…

You never once regretted forgiving him.

“The Loki Odinson, God of Mischief, owning up to his past? My, where have I been this whole time?”

Loki playfully rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling.”

A soft yet meaningful smile curves on your lips as you take a moment to process the last word that he said.

“You haven’t called me that since our fight.”

“And you haven’t looked at me with those eyes ever since I faked my death.”

“With what eyes?” You raise an oblivious eyebrow, fully knowing what he was talking about.

Loki softly shakes his head at your teasing before you let out a light chuckle once more. You gaze upon the long-haired frost giant, biting your inner cheek as you watch Loki being vulnerable to you for the first time.

"Loki," you call out in a soft tone, one gentle hand snaking up to his shoulder. "I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have let go of you so easily either. You were right — I was too quick to give up on us. But, never again. This time, we’ll try even harder to make things truly work. Agreed?”

A soft smile forms on his face — one that was sincere in a way that he never usually shows.

“Agreed.”

Before you could even react one more second, Loki cuts you off with an action that he only does once every blue moon. An action that neither of you can even recall when he last did it.

You feel gentle arms wrap you in a warm embrace. Being in his mere presence made you feel safe and at home — in a way that not even your physical home has ever made you feel. But being with him — reuniting with Loki once more — you knew, with the utmost confidence, that he was your true home. And there was no place you would rather be.

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likes and reblogs are vv appreciated.

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loki-cees-all · 1 year ago

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Chapter 7 - All the Tiring Time Between {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link /

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Sometimes the sharpest boundaries require the gentlest touch.

Chapter W/c : 8.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Angst (as always), brief mentions of blood and injuries. Also there's a bunch of Tesseract lore and Loki's history with Thanos that I really got carried away with while writing this.

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

The silence in the cell was electrifyingly tense, and Loki wished he had something else to focus his attention on.

His jaw ached as he took another bite of the flavorless, perplexing bread that was both stale and damp at the same time. He should have been grateful for it and its distraction, despite the woman having offered it without even so much as looking at him. But it just reminded him of the year he’d spent with the Mad Titan: Wretched. Forsaken. Totally and completely hopeless.

Loki tried desperately not to think about it, but it was getting harder to fight as his exhaustion grew.

The woman sat across from him in the cell, her knees pulled to her chest and her expression blank. She’d said absolutely nothing after dismissing his question about Anathema the night prior, not even when the peculiar guards brought in their cruel attempt at a meal. She didn’t even flinch when they set the tray down in front of her, nor when the duo stared, cold and unmoving, presumably waiting for her to beg for her life like all the others…but she did wait until they were finally gone to pull the tray closer.

She had grabbed the chunk of bread first, and extended it towards him in the shadows like it was second-nature to her. As if it wasn’t ever an option that she wouldn’t share it, and despite the fact that they were in stark disagreement about their respective situations in this place.

He felt guilty for accepting the offering, but unfortunately, he felt like he had no other choice; his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, his muscles were becoming weaker with each new day of disuse, and his nerves were perpetually fried with wary energy. He was constantly stifling another yawn, and was dangerously close to falling asleep, to having another nightmare again.

Loki didn’t know if he ever talked in his sleep, but he didn’t want to risk revealing any compromising information about himself or his past; the less anyone knew about him here, the better off they all were.

But other than the food she’d shared with him, there wasn’t much else for him to distract himself with. The woman wasn’t talking anymore, and her questions had faded away alongside the hope she may have once had about escaping. That left Loki to alone deal with his questions about her, and their inscrutable answers.

The problem with that, however, was that his mind was nothing but a tangled mess; a rat’s nest, made up of lies and false memories, the betrayals of the life he’d left behind, and all the lives that never were. Before him lay a scattering of dots, all seemingly unrelated and centered around a woman who claimed she didn’t know what they wanted with her, and he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of any of it.

Loki used to pride himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, especially on a galactic scale. But he had come here to hide and to wallow, to purposely let his mind atrophy into a cobweb of nothingness, because that was easier than continue trying, and failing, to be happy. He felt comfortable doing that, and letting this become his legacy, because he hadn’t ever expected a riddle to fall into his lap again. He hadn’t ever expected her.

As Loki swallowed the last of the bread, he forced himself to look at her again. She was still huddled against the wall, illuminated by the dim lantern light from the hallway and shivering in the cold dungeon like a scared little child. He was flabbergasted that she was still here, that they’d bothered bringing her back after being caught during an escape attempt. And he couldn’t help but hate himself, because the old Loki could have figured out why that was a very long time ago.

Next to her, the bowl of porridge sat on the floor, mostly untouched and definitely not enjoyed. Her expression was sullen as she stared off into the distance, and her limbs were folded around herself as she retreated deeper inward. It almost made him feel…something.

Of what exactly, Loki wasn’t quite sure; the feeling was old and familiar, something that was long lost while never really being understood in the first place. He told himself that the feeling was irrelevant, because it was just the mystery he found equal parts infuriating and intriguing. He just needed a bit more time than usual to settle the question marks, and then he could finally return to the blissful void of apathy.

And maybe she wasn’t lying when she claimed to not know who Anathema was, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she had no idea why the guards were so interested in her. Either she had something of theirs, or she knew some mysterious piece of information they didn’t yet - but they were obviously willing to play the long game in order to acquire it, and that couldn’t have been for nothing.

Perhaps it had something to do with the gem dangling from her necklace. Loki had seen her touching it, frequently and absentmindedly, running her slender fingers over the deep blue stone during stressed and quiet moments like now. Clearly it meant a lot to her; someone who loved her had given it to her. Someone she loved back, someone she probably missed dearly…

As he started to wonder if anyone was out there looking for her, Loki realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. They landed once again upon the bowl of uneaten porridge next to her, and a new form of discomfort wove itself between the muscles of his shoulders and neck. It wrapped around his nerve-endings, stinging the open and frayed tendrils that had been worn bare from the pain of still being alive.

He was quite vulnerable existing like this, even though he knew she couldn’t see him hiding in the shadows. That she didn’t know what he was thinking, or where he was looking. That she was unaware of the fleeting relief that poured into his veins when she was brought back to the cell alive, or his shame at feeling anything that had immediately replaced it.

Loki had been flippant when she was initially brought in here. He was angry the first time she tried to share a meal with him. And then he was conflicted, at best, when she was dragged back in the second time. This paltry range of emotions was far more than he was previously used to; he felt like he was drowning in it, like it was slowly collapsing his airways and squeezing out every last ounce of oxygen from his lungs.

Because there was only one person on this planet who knew his name. A single individual, throughout all of space and time, knew where he was. She was the sole witness to his current existence, and he’d never felt more uncomfortable or on display than here and now. She had met him at his worst, in his ultimate moment of triumph when he’d finally been able to remove himself from any and all equations, from every problem that ever needed solving, and he absolutely hated that.

Loki thought he’d finally accounted for everything when he had stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon. He thought he’d finally fixed the issue, himself, for literally everyone - and then this tiny little variable had shown up so unexpectedly to completely ruin it for him.

He should have been angrier about it. He should have been furious and seething and shaking with rage over this egregious betrayal of the universe. Being alone had been the whole point, keeping everyone safe from him had been his only intention, seeking protection from the pain of both betrayal and being betrayed was all that Loki had left. Why wasn’t he allowed that meager peace of mind?

Damnation clung to Loki like a frightened child clung to his mother’s skirts, trembling in the dark and begging for acknowledgement of its traumatized state. It lurked around every corner and it haunted every shadow, constantly weeping and whimpering and howling out its anguish to cruel and uncaring souls. It was always there, lingering in the corner of his eye, reminding him of just how helpless and useless he was. That he should just give up. That he should just end it already.

But sometimes, the damnation would transform into something far more sinister, into the tall, skulking form of a cerulean demon. Hanging over his shoulder and digging its claws into his neck, the demon would spit cruel maledictions into his ear. Didn’t Loki know that everyone around him was already doomed? Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill them now, rather than waiting for him to ruin their life and then cruelly and inevitably take it from them?

Hiding in the dungeon was the only reasonable compromise between the frightened child and the viscous demon warring in his mind. If only he had stuck with that plan, if only he hadn’t revealed that someone else was alive in the cell with her, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

Regret, his oldest and only friend, wouldn’t be blaring its horn and sounding the alarm bells and crying out for solace. So why did it bother him so much now that she wasn’t eating?

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, weighing the options in his mind. The regret of initially engaging with this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t change tactics; and if she wasn’t eating, then it wouldn’t be too much longer until he was on his own again. That had been his initial plan, and there was no reason he couldn’t return to that now. Wasn’t being alone all he ever wanted?

“You should finish your meal. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before they bring another…” The words felt like acid on Loki’s tongue, dripping down his throat to eat away at his insides. He hoped they had come out as bluntly as he’d intended, but in reality, it just sounded like something his mother would have said.

This time, the woman didn’t shudder when he finally broke the tense silence. She didn’t even react at all, other than to sigh heavily and respond in a low and flattened tone. “What’s the point…?”

“Well, clearly they’d prefer you to be alive, for whatever reason…” Loki’s jaw tensed as he paused, struggling to understand why he was even bothering. “Even if they bring food on an irregular basis, it’s still more than anyone else gets…”

“Maybe the only reason they want me alive is so they can continue mocking and hurting me.”

That was a more difficult point to contend with; perhaps the guards had just grown weary of the simple and mundane murders, and they’d decided to go with something more entertaining this time. What if there wasn’t a more complicated explanation for the guards' motivations? What if he was searching for logic that didn’t even exist?

Loki stifled another yawn as he leaned back against the stone wall, raking his fingers through tangled curls that were just as chaotic as his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing while attempting to put this puzzle together. “So what did the guards say when they caught you escaping?”

The woman let out a heavy exhale, and her tone shifted into a more sarcastic tone. “Oh, normal things like what are you doing out of your cell?, and no one’s coming to rescue you. Typical kidnapper things, you know…”

Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her nonchalant answers, but what else was he expecting? He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth putting this much effort into avoiding sleep. Nothing else in his life prior to meeting her had been easy, so why was he expecting this to go smoothly?

“Actually, the guard did say something strange before knocking me out…” The woman trailed off, pausing as she furrowed her brow.

Loki cleared his throat as he looked towards her again. “Strange how?”

“Maxine - or Nulan, whichever one it was…They caught me upstairs in their private quarters. Just before attacking me, they said what is gone…may never return.” The woman pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she recalled the memory. “I’ve never heard it before, and I have no idea what it means…”

What is gone…may never return. Loki turned the phrase backward and forward in his mind, trying to find its place in this absolutely confounding puzzle. But he’d never heard anyone say anything even remotely close to it, so there was nowhere for it to go. The phrase’s sentiment, however, he understood perfectly well.

“It was probably just a threat, or a taunt…” she continued with a dismissive shake of her head. “They were just mocking me, for losing everything…”

“Or it’s a prayer. A desperate request, for some kind of reprieve…” Loki murmured in reply. He didn’t want to think about whether anyone had ever hoped for the same thing after he’d finally walked away, but he was positive that they had. And he hadn’t meant for his interpretation to sound so melancholy, but as his gaze caught the woman’s matching expression, he could feel her understanding of his meaning. Loki hated that.

She must have sensed that as well, because she quickly forced a false smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No…surely they must have been talking about me losing my boots.”

Her smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, shifting into a grimace as a violent shiver shuddered over the limbs she struggled to pull close enough. She breathed out a heavy sigh and lowered her forehead to her knees with another tremble, and for once, Loki was grateful for the Jotun physiology keeping him relatively comfortable. But the woman didn’t share the same luxury of such a curse, and she was clearly suffering in these dank and grim conditions.

Loki turned his attention towards his fingers, twitching and fidgeting restlessly in his lap. This particular guilt was both new and unwelcome, like the haunting of fresh ghosts he thought he’d finally manage to not brutally murder for once. It wasn’t directly his fault she was here, that she was suffering. She was a complete stranger, after all, and this couldn’t have been his problem, or his responsibility.

But as Loki lifted his gaze again, carefully moving his eyes to avoid looking upon her once more, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s forgotten boots in the shadows, the ones carelessly stripped away while the guards were searching her the night before.

He recalled one of the first lessons Odin had explained about ruling a kingdom, that sometimes tact and finesse were far more effective than blades or might. Perhaps if Loki was kind instead of harsh, and if he returned the boots to the frozen woman, then she might help alleviate the nagging questions he still had and allow him to fight off sleep for just a little bit longer.

His brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard as he realized this was the least he could do for the both of them. It wasn’t much, but it felt like chopping off a limb when he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak again. “Your, um…boots are in here. They might help you with the…cold.”

The woman’s head popped back up, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned for them in the darkness. “Where are they? I don’t - ” she replied, clumsily attempting to push herself upright, obviously eager to get them back on as soon as possible.

Loki felt an odd sense of duty, one that had been buried deep underneath the many eons of pain, and it compelled him to act before he had the chance to second-guess himself. He moved slowly, shifting his weight onto his hip, and extended his arm out. His fingers were just long enough to barely grasp the black leather pull loops, to drag them closer and then place them within her reach while maintaining a safe distance, and without the need for him to stand.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she stretched to pull them closer. “Thank you so much, Loki.”

He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact anymore; it was hard enough to listen to the bewildered gratitude in her voice. His every movement had stayed within the safe confines of the shadows, and he imagined that she saw her boots reappearing as if from the loving aid of a benevolent god, of someone else who was capable of caring.

“It was nothing,” he told them both.

He had fully intended to return his attention back inward, but he found himself distracted by the woman as she shifted on the floor. Curling and stretching her limbs, gracelessly attempting to pull a boot back on with a single hand, and then reluctantly, with both hands. She let out a gasping whimper as she tried to extend out her left arm, and Loki noticed her fingers trembling as she tried to push through the pain.

Obligation flared along his spine again, but this time, Loki questioned it. A childhood memory surfaced, of when his father would return home from war, bruised and exhausted and weary, and Loki would rush to his side, eager to help with removing his armor and assist in any way he could. He thought maybe if he proved himself useful, eager and determined, like his older brother was, then Odin might finally give him a chance to fight alongside him.

But even though his seidr had been well-advanced for his age, his father had always refused to bring Loki along, despite never leaving home without Thor. Odin had said that Loki wasn’t ready yet, that he wasn’t strong enough, that it was too dangerous for a little boy to be out on the field and surrounded by their mortal enemies.

“Such a young prince falling into the hands of Asgard’s opponents could prove disastrous to the realms,” his father had said, even though that fear had never stopped him from bringing Thor into battle. It wasn’t until much later that Loki realized the truth, that the only real use he had wasn’t needed back then - not until the direst of circumstances forced his father’s ultimate and final hand.

The woman let out a sharp groan, bringing Loki back to the present. She had collapsed back against the wall, sniffling and brushing the messy strands of crimson hair away from her face. “Loki, I’m so sorry…but can you please…?”

His eyes widened, and hers were full of tears. Her cheeks reddened, and her lower lip trembled as she spoke with a cracked voice. “Please help me? I’m so cold, and I can’t…I can’t get these back on…”

It wasn’t like the cold, calculating demands he was previously used to, and Loki realized that it pained her to ask like this. She wasn’t trying to get anything out of him, she wasn’t manipulating her way into something more than she deserved, or trying to get him to commit atrocities in her name.

It wasn’t a game or a trick designed to be laughed at later with her friends; she genuinely just needed his help. But the problem was that this kind of assistance not only required him to vacate the shadows, to come closer and share the same air as her - it necessitated physical touch. Loki was sure he couldn’t handle that.

The muscles in his fingers articulated of their own accord, separating and curling into just the right place to summon and concentrate his seidr, intent on disassembling the atoms that made up the woman’s boots and reassembling them back where they belonged.

A suitable compromise, Loki believed, except that absolutely nothing happened. The warmth that normally accompanied his magic was nowhere to be found, that familiar connection to the past and the present, to his mother, wasn’t opening its loving arms to welcome him back home - and that was when he finally remembered.

Loki’s seidr was dead, because he was supposed to be dead.

He’d forsaken his magic as soon as he’d arrived here. Once he willingly stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon, once he’d realized that the first thing this newly-freed universe had done was trap him yet again, he decided that this time it was really meant to be.

So he didn’t bother fighting it, and he willingly let go of the tendrils of seidr he had once clung so tightly to. He didn’t deserve the honor of wielding it, not after what he’d done in New York. And what use would that magic have been to the hollowed-out shell of a person he was now? What good could he have possibly done with it anyway?

“Loki?”

Once again, the woman’s quiet voice refocused his attention. Her expression had fallen even further during his silent brooding, and she was staring woefully into the dark, desperately hoping to see him finally coming to her aid. A deep sense of dread rose up within his chest, thick and impenetrable, oozing between his ribs to singe and suffocate his lungs like molten lava.

Loki didn’t know what to do, and yet, he moved anyway. Pressing his palms flat against the stone floor, he bent his knees and carefully pushed himself upright. His joints cracked and popped, his muscles were stiff and sluggish as he slid one foot forward, and the belt around his waist was far looser than when he’d initially put it on.

Taking another step closer, his mind suddenly dizzied, and his body began to sway dangerously from the juxtaposition of pushing himself forward while he’d been wasting away. He quickly grabbed onto the wall with a sharp gasp, trying to steady himself as his legs tingled themselves awake.

“Loki…are you alright?” the woman murmured, her brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine, it’s just - ” Loki sighed heavily, his heart pounding and muscles trembling. “I’m just not used to…standing.”

Loki closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment, willing his body back into operating under his own control. But despite his best efforts, weariness and exhaustion were still permanently at the helm, relentlessly steering him back towards collapsing and passing out again.

“It’s alright. Take your time…”

Loki’s eyes snapped back open, painfully aware that she was still watching him closely, and he did everything he could to both avoid her gaze and her reassurance. Nothing about this was alright, and he could hear his father’s chastising voice from beyond the stars, criticizing him for allowing enervation to consume him - even though that was the only way to keep himself out of trouble.

His eyes flitted across the dungeon cell, feverishly taking in the stone walls and steel bars of the door, then out to the flickering lantern light of the hallway. Loki had never even bothered to take a good look at his coffin before committing to staying in it for all eternity, but from this elevation, he could clearly examine the cuts that made up the large slabs of the walls and floor. Meticulous, flawless, precise - too perfect to have been sliced by hand.

His gaze moved to the cream-colored candlestick suspended within the single lantern in the hallway, evenly melted away and without a single speck of soot upon the glass encasing it. From there, he could make out the grooves carved by the steel bars into the doorway’s arch as it swung open and closed, and the streaked and dark stains, smudged against the grayed and leadened floor, leading from the hallway back into their cell.

The woman’s blood, he assumed, and Loki’s hands clenched into fists. His throat tightened, and the slightest hint of outrage began to reluctantly wake from its slumber.

Forcing the feeling away, Loki finally closed the distance and carefully crouched in front of the woman; only then did he let her be the focus of his attention. Loose and uneven strands of crimson had been pulled free from the long, disheveled braid nestled untidily over her shoulder;her skin was wan and pallid, and her lips were tinted with the faintest hint of blue.

Dried blood had smeared on her ear, her neck, the lengths of her hair and along her cheek. It was everywhere, mixed with the dirt and muck from the floor, coating the corners of her cracked lips and the freckles that dotted her cheekbone. The fact that the blood was dried, meaning the original wound was at the very least no longer actively bleeding, did nothing to make him feel better.

Loki lowered one knee down to the floor, precariously settling his weight onto one ankle, and the woman’s attention was now entirely fixed on her boots. She swallowed nervously, and Loki silently agreed with the sentiment. How long had it been since he’d touched another person? Did he even remember how to be gentle? How to not contaminate?

Moving cautiously, he took a boot into his grasp, threading his fingers between the loops and slowly pulling to loosen its laces. While he worked, he focused on the soft leather: its scent was herbal, earthy, and with just the barest suggestion of sweetness. Intricate designs, swirls and constellations and rays of light emanating from an overly-stylized sun were stitched into the leather, extending from the collar and flowing down way past the ankle.

Soft, pliable and shiny, the leather still showed signs of its latest polish, applied with a healthy dose of high-quality wax, from underneath the layers of grim. The boots had been methodically cared for, regularly and recently, and probably not too long before the woman found herself in custody of the mysterious guards. Loki found himself curious about the circumstances of her capture.

Stained in the same shade of night as the leathers covering her legs, they blended seamlessly together with the rest of her clothing, from the thin stockings on her feet to the chipped lacquer on her fingernails. Everything was the exact same color, save for the thin, flowing emerald tunic that had long since come untucked, and the gem that hung from her neck.

And everything she wore was undoubtedly expensive, most likely customized for this particular owner, and she had obviously not dressed for being locked inside a damp and grimy dungeon. At best, she was prepared for a pleasant walk through the woods on a mildly chilly evening; Loki tried not to think about it too much.

Out of his peripheral vision, Loki could see the woman stealing glances up at him. She watched him carefully, her sea green eyes shifting cautiously between his face, his hands, and the boot he was unlacing - obviously examining and judging the hideous monster whose help she had no choice but to accept.

Loki began to feel self-conscious. There was no doubt that his own appearance wasn’t any better than her own at the moment; in fact, he was sure it was much, much worse. Dark and unkempt curls hung way past his shoulders like sinister snakes. The skin on his hands was sullen and pallor, shifting dangerously close to bluish gray, and he had no idea if his eyes had begun to drift back into their original shade of ruby-red or not. He promised himself that this would be the only time she ever saw his face up close.

When he could no longer justify stalling with the laces, he cleared his throat, and forced his fingers to tap the underside of her leg; a featherlight touch that could have been easily missed if one hadn’t been expecting it. But the woman again mercifully sensed his meaning, and she positioned the appropriate foot for him to slide the boot on.

Too well, Loki noticed, as he pulled the collar up to settle around her calf; she was exceptionally practiced at having others put footwear on her - at tensing the right muscles at just the right moment, and extending the leg with just enough force to seat the foot comfortably against the insole.

“Sorry about this…” she mumbled as Loki pulled the laces tight and began looping them back and forth around the hooks. “Although, this is probably the most exciting thing you’ve done in a while, huh?”

She was trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the previous awkwardness of such close quarters. Loki’s response was flat and measured, his attention focused on tying instead of talking. “Like I said - it’s nothing.”

A nervous silence followed, one that was far more uncomfortable than the awkwardness. Loki hadn’t meant to be so dismissive, and perhaps he’d been far too frigid for someone who was supposed to be helping her. When he finished the final loop, he cleared his throat again and forced himself to look up again.

“Is that…too tight for you?” he murmured softly.

The woman managed a weak smile as she flexed her ankle. “No. It feels fine.”

Loki noted that her pupils dilated ever so slightly when she met his gaze, and he took that as a good sign that her head injury wasn’t a completely serious one. He wasn’t sure why he was noting that, but nonetheless, he had, and he didn’t have the energy to start questioning it. Instead, he busied himself with picking up the other boot and threading his fingers underneath its laces like he’d done with the first.

“Is this all I have left? Just waiting in this cell to die?”

Her voice had taken on a somber, more sorrowful tone now; apparently open anguish was much easier for her than polite small-talk, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, Loki would have guessed there would have been more than a tear or two accompanying her questions. He wasn’t sure how to answer her; bringing up the fact that the other prisoners before her had never lasted more than a day or two, or the fact that they were never returned once removed from their cells, probably wasn’t going to help her mood very much.

“At least they’re leaving you alone for the most part,” Loki answered, lightly tapping his fingers underneath her other leg for the placement of its boot. “Be thankful for relative peace.”

The woman sighed heavily as she cooperated. “Relative peace. That’s all I have to look forward to?”

“For some, that’s all they’ve ever wanted,” Loki said absentmindedly. “They’d kill for it, and others willingly die in its pursuit…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in troubled concern, and Loki tried to ignore it. He couldn’t understand why he was like this, either speaking too familiarly with the woman, or far too flippantly. He was out of practice when it came to any sort of normal conversation, but he didn’t want to be accustomed to it again. In the end, she was just a temporary distraction, and he wasn’t supposed to even exist at all.

“That’s very enlightened, coming from someone who has nightmares every time he closes his eyes…” the woman replied as he finished tying the laces on the other boot. She flexed that ankle, and then nodded her approval while pulling her knees back against her chest.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he met her gaze once more. Her eyes were wide and open, appearing to be without a single shred of judgment, only empathy. Loki couldn’t help but scrutinize her for that. If she only knew how little he deserved kindness, and he was irritated that she’d noticed how bad his nightmares were at all. He’d rather have not known that his weakness was on complete display, and thus, beyond his complete control.

Slowly pushing himself back up to standing, grateful that the task and its requisite close proximity were finally over, Loki’s fingertips trailed along the cold stone as he backed into the shadows again. But lethargy was creeping back in, along with the ever-present unsettled and restless energy, and when Loki returned to sitting, he wasn’t quite as far into the dark as he had been before.

“You know, it may help your nightmares to talk about them,” the woman suggested cautiously. “Perhaps unburdening yourself a little would be a good thing…”

Loki grimaced. Of all the ways she could have worded it, he wished it hadn’t been in that specific way. As it were, various burdens of all sorts were already going to haunt him until the end of time, it seemed, and he preferred not to be reminded of the purposes initially set upon him by Thanos. And even if he wanted to, where should he begin?

He still didn’t quite understand what exactly had happened to him on Knowhere; that entire year was just a chaotic haze of torture and manipulation, through both physical and psychological means, and it was impossible for him to decipher what was real and what was a lie. Even now, he couldn’t even recall the exact circumstances that led to his descent from the Bifrost and into Thanos’ control.

Sometimes, he could clearly remember the decision to let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss; other times, he was absolutely convinced that his brother had pushed him in a jealous rage, furious that Loki’s short tenure as King had proved far more successful than any longer one Thor could have ever managed.

Either way, the fall had resulted in him becoming Thanos’ prisoner, and then later, as a member of the Black Order - but only after they’d finally conceded that physical torture was never going to work on the body of a Frost Giant, on an Asgardian prince raised as a warrior, or on a powerful sorcerer who already had extremely complicated feelings about being alive in the first place.

But once they realized that he just wanted somewhere to belong, they finally started to see real progress, and the emotional manipulation that followed was probably more effective than they could have ever hoped for. It was so very easy to muddy the rough waters of Loki’s psyche thanks to the Chitauri Scepter and his tremendous heartbreak - a kind word here, a clever lie there, and nothing but speeches about revenge and betrayals, destinies and purposes, salvation and redemption, and scorned Kings and their disgraced sons.

After Loki had been welcomed into the fold, Thanos explained his need for the Tesseract; if Loki acquired it, then he would be granted an army to help take Midgard by as excessive and violent force as he deemed necessary. The God of Mischief already knew that he wanted to be as destructive as possible - to both completely cripple his brother’s fondness for the pathetic humans, and to show Odin that he would settle for being a terrifying leader if he wasn’t permitted to be a good one.

His idea for retrieving the Tesseract had been a clever one; so clever that Loki wasn’t surprised that Thanos or the Black Order hadn’t ever considered it before. But getting to suggest it meant that his new Master was immediately pleased with his usefulness, something that had rarely happened with his previous keeper, and Loki was so grateful for the opportunity to satisfy.

Out of the six Infinity Stones, the Space Stone was unique in that it could generate massive amounts of self-sustaining energy. Its power signature was incredibly easy to track, and it didn’t take long for Loki to determine the Tesseract’s location inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. Under Fury’s careful and watchful eye, the mortals were studying its capabilities for power production, no doubt to be used in some kind of advanced weapons manufacture instead of something that could actually be used to help mankind.

A stereotypically short-sighted action, one that would soon be their downfall, because none of those weapons would ever be able to stop him from completing his task. Had they realized the stone’s true potential, as Loki had, then perhaps the humans might have fared better during his invasion.

Because he knew something that apparently no one else did, something he now prayed that no one else would ever be able to figure out. Loki was in the unusual position of understanding exactly how the Bifrost had operated, of how it could easily send and receive anything from across the galaxies with frightening and pinpoint accuracy. As a child, he was fascinated by the Bifrost, and more than once Heimdall had to stop him from attempting to disassemble it while searching for the details of its inner workings.

Once informed of her son’s unyielding curiosities, his mother had patiently redirected that energy towards Asgard’s massive libraries. There, he spent many late nights pouring over the texts and histories of the magnificent Bifrost. Once he’d devoured all he could from words, he then spent his time exploring the Realm and looking for means of travel that didn’t involve going to the Bifrost at all.

And thanks to the Mad Titan’s relentless and universal conquest in search of the stones, Loki had access to incalculable amounts of lore, research and history that had been stolen from countless cultures and societies. He spent months buried in books and manuscripts, performing calculations and practicing his seidr, searching desperately for the perfect combination of science and magic to get him what he needed.

All of that, when combined with his extensive knowledge of the Bifrost, allowed Loki to realize that all he needed was a power-source. It must have been fate and its impeccable sense of humor, because the Space Stone could be the engine, and the Tesseract was going to be the gateway - a terrible, incredible bridge between where you were, and where you desperately wanted to be.

For Loki, the Tesseract was going to deliver him to vengeance, respect, authority and glory - in a way that no one would be able to undo once he finally got it. His brother, his father, the entire Nine Realms and beyond, all of them would be powerless to stop him once he figured out how to open the Tesseract’s portal from the other side.

Returning to his research with a new sense of delirium, he gave up on sleep, and food, and his sanity while he searched for the answer. His cheeks became hollow, his eyes were sunken deep into his skull, and his skin grew weak and frail. His nerves were on the verge of total disintegration, his heart ached and his mind was hazy.

His every waking thought was consumed by the Tesseract, and on the rare occasion that he actually passed out, so were his nightmares. He became too lost to even carry on a conversation; all he could manage were grunts and groans and strange approximations of the word “Tesseract��. Every part of himself, anything that had once been Loki, had all but slipped away.

But occasionally, Loki would come back to himself. He would look down at his hands in horror, and he wouldn’t understand where he was or how he got there. While screaming and lashing out, the one called Ebony Maw would preach about balance, about salvation and judgment and how Loki was destined to assist the Great Titan in saving all of life, by ending half of it. He was instructed to be grateful for being allowed to take part in it.

But it didn’t make any sense, and Loki tried so hard to resist, to fight them off, to scramble to the exit and free himself, to warn someone of the terrible thing that was coming. Then, something would happen, something would touch him, and his mind would cloud back over with rage and madness. The dangerous craving for the Tesseract would return tenfold, and then he would be back on task, more eager than ever to please.

After a quick journey through the minds of the men known as Selvig and Barton, Loki finally had everything he needed to complete his sacred mission. The astrophysicist filled in the last remaining gaps about the Tesseract’s functionalities, and the archer revealed information about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security protocols - how many personnel were on site, what types of weapons they had, where they’d been trained. The details of every file stored on their secret servers, every individual’s personal histories - including that of the beings once considered to join the so-called Avengers, the ones that might be called upon to stop him.

On his first attempt, Loki succeeded in opening the Tesseract’s portal. One moment, he was standing on Thanos’ ship, and the next, he was inside the research facility, shrouded within a haze of smoke and mania. By the third second, he was ferociously attacking, moving and acting without consideration for the stealth or secrecy he’d been trained with as a child. He didn’t even bother dodging the humans’ pathetic projectiles; instead, he focused on murdering the ones he had already deemed useless to his cause, and using the Sceptre to convert the ones that were worthy of it

Nor did he bother mincing words with Fury as the Director stalled for time, not even the ones ripped directly from Ebony Maw’s impassioned and self-important speeches. Loki already knew how unstable the gateway was, and that was by design. During his maniacal studies, he had determined how best to sustain the portal’s opening for safe and easy passage - first, in order to allow entry for the Chitauri forces, and then to facilitate easy travel for Thanos to find the rest of the stones later on.

Loki’s first act of murder had been intentionally not stabilizing the portal as it opened inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility; he had wanted the structure to collapse in a stunning display of destruction. Whether it was to be an ominous warning for what he was about to do, or if it was to serve as a call to action for the only ones who could have prevented him from succeeding, he still wasn’t quite sure.

Either way, he ultimately failed in the only way that had mattered. Loki didn’t achieve vengeance or respect or authority, and there was no victory or glory waiting for him after it was over. The Chitauri Forces were destroyed, the Tesseract was not handed over to Thanos per their agreement, and he’d made a great many vicious and unforgiving enemies that day.

In the end, the only thing waiting for him was a prison cell on Asgard, and all he’d managed to do was to make everything worse.

And presumably, after it was over, Thanos still had access to all of Loki’s research. Losing out on the Tesseract would have infuriated him and the Black Order; a minor inconvenience, sure, but it wouldn’t have hindered their quest in the slightest. Thanos still knew how to use the Tesseract because of him - and more importantly, he understood how to use it in the most destructive way possible. That was completely and entirely Loki’s fault, and he just hoped that Thanos was arrogant enough to keep that information to himself, that no one else would try and fail in the same catastrophic way that Loki had.

Maybe the Tesseract wasn’t meant to be used as a gateway, and in doing so, Loki had ensured that he’d never get what he wanted, and that he’d lose what little he had left. All of that madness and frantic chaos and deliberate carnage had been for absolutely nothing. Maybe the Tesseract was cursed, and maybe, so was he.

Because every single time Loki had come into contact with it, his life had taken a drastic and even more devastating turn for the worse. Attempting to acquire it for Thanos had broken him - mind, body, and soul; fleeing New York with it had landed him in the clutches of the TVA; and apparently, it had been his ultimate destiny to die while trying to keep it from the Mad Titan.

The absolute last thing Loki ever wanted was to be reminded of the Tesseract - more than he wanted silence, or solitude, or to rot. And now this woman wanted to know what his nightmares were about?

Even if he had made it to the prison cell on Asgard, he wasn’t planning to explain himself to anyone. What was he supposed to tell his brother, his mother, his father? That he’d been deceived? Were they going to believe that he’d fallen for someone else’s lies so easily, and without question? That the God of Mischief himself had been tricked, played for a fool and made to be the universe’s largest and most pathetic scapegoat?

No, trying to justify his actions would be a grave disservice to the innocent lives he’d taken, and telling the truth was next to impossible. Even just talking about the betrayal of his family would be too much for him to bear, and that was the only aspect of the entire thing that Loki had never, ever second-guessed.

The woman continued stealing glances in his direction, from just a few feet away now. Still waiting for him to say something, anything, to help keep her mind distracted from her own plights. For the briefest of moments, he actually considered asking if she’d ever heard of the Tesseract, or the Infinity Stones. If she knew who Thanos was, if he’d ever been to this planet before…but as Loki fidgeted with his tie, running his fingers over the frayed and broken seams in the cloth, he knew the answer didn’t matter.

The appropriate time to have asked that question would have been when he’d first arrived, back when the TemPad still had the power to take him some place else if need be. But now the TemPad was dead; he was trapped here, and the longer he could go without hearing about the Tesseract, the better. The longer he could go on in the blissful ignorance of relative peace, and without talking about himself, the easier this would be for everyone.

“How did you wind up here anyway?” He winced as he spoke, hating himself for being more than a little curious about it. “I can’t imagine the guards asking you to come along nicely…”

The woman hesitated for a moment, no doubt replaying the events in her mind and wishing she had done something differently. Her fingers grasped the gem that hung from her neck, and she swallowed hard. “I was…taken from Tessaway, my home, in the middle of the night.”

She paused, her eyes focused on something non-existent in the distance. “I don’t know how they made it past the sentries, but they…managed, somehow. They took me from my bed, while I slept…”

Loki shook his head, trying to appear sympathetic. “You lived in a heavily guarded city. It must be a very dangerous place…”

“Tessaway isn’t a city,” she corrected, furrowing her brow as she looked over at him. “It’s the castle in Fayrest. You know, the capital city…?”

He didn’t know any of that, of course, having never left this cell. The woman looked like she wanted to say more but was afraid to, and he couldn’t help but think about why she had seemed to imply before that no one was going to rescue her. “Wouldn’t someone from the castle have noticed your absence? Surely they have to be looking for you by now…”

“No…” The woman shifted uncomfortably in place, her expression broken and forlorn. “No, I was just a servant. No one important enough to miss…”

Loki had been studying her carefully ever since he’d realized her captors were going to keep her alive for much longer than they had the others. Her movements were elegant and refined, her clothing and jewelry expensive and customized, her speech graceful and enchanting; the kind of charming that could only come from years of practice. He didn’t believe for a second that she was just a servant working in a castle.

But she was also clearly in a tremendous amount of pain, and for whatever reason, was keeping the origins of her birth a secret. Loki wondered what might have happened to him if he had been given that luxury, if he hadn’t been the only one to not know the truth about himself.

“Ah, a servant,” he replied, trying to lighten the mood a little. His unpracticed lips curved into a forced and lazy grin. “That certainly explains why you’re so concerned about my well-being…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in amusement, and she tilted her head curiously as if taking his comment as a challenge. “What’s the matter? Are you not used to someone worrying about your well-being?”

Loki’s jaw tensed; perhaps he hadn’t been behaving as opaquely as he hoped, and he hated that she could see through him just as well as he could through her. He glanced over, and decided to provoke her right back. “Well, I’m sure they’ll miss you at the castle eventually. Like when there’s pots that need washing, or linens that need changing?”

“Yes, yes, that’s very funny…” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I get it, the thing about servants is that no one knows your name until something you normally do suddenly isn’t being done anymore…”

The woman turned, and she met his gaze with a considering and dissecting one of her own. “Like you - you don’t need anything from me, so why would you ever bother learning my name?”

From just a few feet away, the woman stared deep into his soul, tugging at the strings that still held him upright and all but questioning if they were even necessary. He waited until she looked away to furrow his brow again, because while she was right about him not needing anything from her, she was surely mistaken about the other half of her point.

Because he did actually know her name; it was the first new name he’d learned in such a very long time, and he thought it suited her quite well, all things considered. But he had been trying to avoid acknowledging it, not wanting it to mean something more than what it was.

It was just a name, after all; a series of specific vocalizations designed to get her attention. Saying it out loud didn’t mean that they were friends, or that they were even important to each other. It wouldn’t bind them in any way, or obligate him to care. But if that were true, then why did he have such a problem with saying it?

Loki could feel a nervous energy creeping relentlessly up his spine again. He wished it would stop receding, that it would stay put, because the constant shifting between relaxing and stressing was completely wearing him out. He told himself he just needed to say it out loud and get it over with, before he could start second-guessing and talk himself out of it again - especially now that she had noticed his careful avoidance of her name.

“What kind of servant knows how to fight with a staff anyway?” Loki asked, affecting an innocent and casual tone. “I guess servants named Oliviette do…”

After he answered his own question, Loki looked towards her again, and Oliviette was already smiling back at him; it was a bleary and quiet acknowledgement, but the sentiment was definitely noteworthy. For the first time since they’d met, he could see the dimples in her cheeks, and it was impossible to miss the way her eyes lit up with mirth, or how her lips pursed before she finally responded.

“What? Am I not allowed to have hobbies outside of work?”

Loki struggled to not return her smile. He almost felt a sense of appreciation for her snark and the much-needed diversion from the constant aching in his chest. It was only then that he remembered that this was supposed to be a temporary distraction; he couldn’t afford to spend needless energy that didn’t directly involve finding out why the guards were keeping Oliviette alive for this long.

Keeping a safe distance was paramount, his new glorious purpose. Trust was for children and dogs, wasn’t that how he’d put it to Mobius during their first meeting? As long as he stayed here, keeping himself isolated and protected, then he couldn’t ever be tricked into being someone else’s attack dog ever again. He couldn’t ever hurt anyone again.

Besides, it was highly implausible that her life would end in any way other than tragically. Loki’d already had quite enough of that - and would it be worth getting close to her, even if it didn’t?

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link /

Note: I'll no longer be updating this fic on tumblr. You'll have to read the rest of the story on AO3.

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zepskies · 11 months ago

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TOM HIDDLESTON MASTERLIST

Loki ❇️

Avengers/MCU

(❤️‍🔥 = 18+ only and/or smut)

A Vow of Silence ❤️‍🔥 - (Loki x OFC)

When Thor leaves for Earth after destroying Malekith, Loki sits on the throne wearing Odin’s guise. Ada, sister to Fandral and an apprentice healer, discovers his rouse by the fate of her own terrible curiosity. The price of her silence is her life, and the God of Mischief finds he quite likes teasing her with it.

[Set before and through Thor: Ragnarok.]

Series Complete

James Conrad

Kong Skull Island

Extraordinary - (Conrad x OFC)

Ada Bennett is an anti-war journalist who too often makes impulsive decisions that don't always work out in her favor. Not taking the TIME piece is one. Trusting James Conrad could be another.

Time ❤️‍🔥 - (Conrad x OFC)

Since surviving Skull Island, Conrad has been living in New York with his new girlfriend Ada, trying to move onwards with his life and deal with the psychological consequences of his final mission. He thought he was doing pretty well at both, until Ada scores them a free trip to England, intent on meeting his mother.

[Sequel to Extraordinary]

Main Masterlist

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when every new story drops! Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💚

Join My Patreon ⟡ Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories. Top-tier patrons can send me requests!

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thegoddessproject-mcu · 14 days ago

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The GODDESS Project Command Center

Welcome to the navigation hub for all the content related to The GODDESS Project.

An MCU Rewrite with Soulmate AU aspects written by @callalillywrites.

AU Summary

Athena. Artemis. Persephone. Nyx. Circe. Human women made into enhanced beings inspired by the Olympians with the help of an Asgardian who foresaw the decimation Thanos plans to bring. Pursued and captured by Hydra upon learning of their powers, the women are ultimately held captive for years until their untimely release during the events of Thor. Reunited with the very Asgardian that helped create them, they're set on an adventure alongside their soulmates to take down some of Earth's mightiest threats: Hydra, Loki, and Thanos.

My OCs

General Goddess Information

Meet Christine "Chrissy" Stark

Meet Leila Barton

Meet Becca Barnes

Meet Cat Pierce

Meet Kendra Rumlow

Meet Sigyn Heimdalldottir

Additional Info & Extras

Additional Starter Info

Main Storyline

Coming Soon

Non-Canon One-Shots

Coming Soon

#my ocs #mcu #marvel mcu #mcu rewrite #stucky x ofc #sam wilson x ofc #bruce banner x ofc #stephen strange x ofc #natasha romanoff x ofc #soulmate au #loki x ofc #steve rogers x bucky barnes x ofc #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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sacredfixation · 6 months ago

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Hear me out, Mobius writes a formal report about how Loki weaponized tie etiquette.

TVA REPORT – INCIDENT #42791: Unauthorized Interrogation Conduct

Filed by: Agent Mobius M. Mobius

Subject: Loki Laufeyson – Tie Fixation Incident

Date: [REDACTED]

Incident Overview:

During a routine interrogation with Subject Loki Laufeyson, an unexpected and unauthorized proximity breach occurred. The subject approached me, under the pretense of delivering a condescending verbal response, and proceeded to adjust my tie without consent. This action was accompanied by a thinly veiled attempt at manipulation, culminating in the subject referring to me as “adorable.” The interaction, while brief, resulted in a significant lapse in professional decorum and personal space boundaries.

Behavioral Analysis:

1.Physical Proximity Violation:

Loki reduced the standard interrogator-subject distance to approximately 6 inches. This is a violation of TVA protocol, which clearly states that agents are to maintain a minimum of 3 feet from subjects unless restraint measures are in progress. The proximity was entirely unnecessary and likely employed as a deliberate power move.

2. Unauthorized Tie Adjustment:

At no point did I request assistance with my tie. The subject’s action was both unprompted and overly familiar. Though the adjustment was technically correct, it appeared to serve no purpose beyond asserting dominance in an intimate, disarming manner.

3. Verbal Commentary:

The subject concluded the interaction by calling me “adorable” in a tone that was neither overtly insulting nor explicitly complimentary, but ambiguously condescending. This form of address is inconsistent with typical manipulative language, raising the possibility that it was intended to provoke confusion or personal distraction.

Emotional and Psychological Impact:

Post-incident, I experienced:

-Mild Disorientation: Resulting from the unexpected nature of the interaction.

-Persistent Overanalysis: Due to the ambiguity of the subject’s intent (power play? flirtation? both?).

-Internal Discomfort: Stemming from an acute awareness of how my tie now feels whenever worn, as if perpetually connected to the subject’s interference.

Recommendation for Future Interrogations:

1. Maintain Greater Physical Distance: Implement a mandatory minimum of 5 feet when interacting with Loki Laufeyson, as he has demonstrated a proclivity for exploiting personal space to unnerve TVA agents.

2. No Accessorized Weakness: TVA agents should avoid wearing easily manipulated items (e.g., ties, scarves, jewelry) during interactions with Loki to prevent similar incidents.

3. Clarify Intent Post-Incident: In the future, should similar behavior occur, it may be beneficial to directly address the subject’s intent at the time, e.g., “Are you fixing my tie or trying to throw me off balance?”

Final Note:

This report is not filed out of personal embarrassment but in the interest of maintaining TVA professionalism and preventing future… tie-related incidents. Further observation of Loki’s interpersonal tactics is warranted, particularly regarding whether his penchant for destabilizing agents via proximity and unsolicited compliments is part of a larger strategy or merely a deeply irritating quirk.

End of report.

#mobius mcu #mobius m mobius #mobius #loki #loki marvel #loki series #lokius #mobius out here writing a whole thesis becuase loki called him adorable #tie etiquette violations #imagine being emotionally wrecked by someone fixing your tie #5ft distance rule sounds like something mobius made up so he doesnt pass out the next time loki does that #loki weaponizing intimacy is peak #loki laufeyson #marvel #loki mcu #loki odinson #mobius is flustered #loki x mobius #ofc he files a tva report

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ofasgardandalfheim · 5 months ago

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Loki & The Siren; Chapter Sixteen

A Seductive Ruse. A Fierce Battle. The Taste of Power.

Fic Synopsis:

This is the story about how you met and fell in love with Loki, hundreds of years before the events in Avengers, while his family was visiting Alfheim, where you were a siren.

It is a companion piece to Lightning Over the Sea-Redux to give more insight into your past and relationship with Loki.

18+ only

Your senses are heightened as you ride, taking in the sights and sounds around you. The trees rush past in a verdant blur, their leaves rustling gently in the cool breeze. The sweet melodies of birdsong fill the air, soothing and calming your nerves. The rich scents of pine and earth invigorate you, sharpening your focus.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you see your companions' determined expressions, a sense of solidarity washing over you. You grin at Thor and Hogun, Thor returning the smile at the sight of you astride the massive wolf. Pride swells in your heart, knowing the new allies you’ve recruited will make all the difference. You tighten your grip on Hrimfang's neck, and the great wolf turns his head, giving you a reassuring glance.

As you and your companions arrive outside the village, the acrid scent of smoke and fear hangs thick in the air. Approaching cautiously, you spot enemy raiders posted at the perimeter. Your heart races with adrenaline as you look to Thor, your voice barely above a whisper, "Do you trust me?"

Thor's eyes darken, his expression serious. "Always," he replies, his voice low and steady.

You turn eagerly to Thor and Hogun, presenting your plan. "I have an idea. I can use Thor's red cape to distract the enemy and make my way into their fortress undetected. With your permission, Thor?"

Thor nods in agreement. "Of course, if it can help us achieve our mission."

Without hesitation, you unsheathe your sword and slice off a section of the vibrant red cape. Draping it over your shoulders, you feel the smooth fabric caress your skin as you fasten it around your neck, admiring how the bold color contrasts beautifully against the black of your armor.

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you begin casting a spell of illusion, transforming your armor into a seductive red dress that hugs your curves perfectly.

Read more on Ao3

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latent-thoughts · 3 months ago

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Ravished by a God - Chapter 40

Summary: When a God decides to chase you, what do you do? You’re Tony Stark’s employee, living in the famed Stark Tower. One day, you get cornered by the notorious God of Mischief and have a very revealing experience about your own kinks. Hence begins your clandestine dance with Loki, who is all too keen to claim you as his and show you all the forbidden pleasures he has to offer.

However, your kinky dance with him is not the only concern you have. Something murky is brewing within SHIELD, and Tony Stark specifically wants you to find the root of it. What can a mere human do when caught between superheroes, gods and a deviant government? You’re about to find out.

[WARNING: This work contains NSFW explicit and taboo sexual themes like noncon/dubcon, BDSM, spanking, etc. It is strictly 18+. Reader discretion is advised. Consume your media wisely.]

Pairing: Loki/Reader (F)

The doors opened and closed with a loud thud, welcoming in whoever had knocked. From what you could hear, it was only a single individual.

“Greetings, sire, am I disturbing you?” a feminine voice asked after a moment of silence—likely because this person was bowing to Loki first, before speaking.

“Greetings, Lady Gefjon. Not at all,” he replied cheerfully. Too cheerfully. “How fares the fairest of my mother’s handmaidens?”

A giggle resounded in the room, clearly in response to his words. You scowled, then bit his inner thigh, making him jump slightly. His hand tried to push you away, but you bit his fingers too.

[READ ON AO3]

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stupidthoughtsinwriting · 2 years ago

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Try Again | Loki x OC

Chapter 1 - (Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

Summary: Enjoying a holiday in Greece until a dreadful call changes it all...

Note: Ohhh I've posted it! okay, first of all, I am open to making a tag list to those interested, just tell me in the comments and I'll put you in. Two, this is the fastest fic i've finished and to me that's astonishing because as you may notice, most of my fics take me months to complete and in finishing this in a few nights is a feat to me. And third, understand that i am going back to class on Monday and thus i might not have as much time to update this as much but i promise i will be working on it and have patience with me. I am unreliable in consistency but I can promise results, even if the time is indefinite. The second chapter is in the works so bear with me and i hope you enjoy!

The sun rests low on the horizon, slowly dipping down amongst the waves. It turns the water a gorgeous shade of gold and the sky flies past in a flurry of bright and brilliant colours. Though as slow as the bright star sinks, it still let off a bit of heat. A welcoming warmth caressing the tanning skin of those still out, enjoying the last rays of the day before heading inside to avoid the chill night.

A child plays in the sand. Building castles of great architecture and collects shells and rocks of all forms and sizes, anything piquing his interests really. A bucket sat beside him and in it rests all his collected treasures. He uses some of the colourful shells and stones to decorate his castle, giving it colour amongst the muted tones of sand.

His mother sits not far from him, basking in the last of the heated rays before the inevitable task of packing up for the day. She watches her boy, clad only in his swim trunks, unruly obsidian curls bouncing at every movement as he fiddles and plays with his toys in the sand.

A warm yet solemn smile painted her thin lips as she watched over her young one, seeing features oh so similar to her husbands. From his ivory skin and up to his emerald eyes, their son was but a copy of his father. The spitting image save for the too few features he had of her, like the scattered bloom of freckles that decorated the bridge of his small nose and cheeks.

He also seems to have gotten mannerisms eerily similar that of his father, despite the brief and few memories he had of him in their short time. The pick at his hands and furrow that would rest on his brows whenever he was confused or sad was just so like her husbands. It brought an overwhelming need to be protect him from the dangers of the world, but she knew that as he grew, she won’t be able to protect him from everything and the best she could do was to teach him how to protect himself. But as of now, she would do just about everything to keep him safe.

Just as the sun began to descend the horizon, the boy abruptly stood up and walked over to where his mother lay beneath an umbrella, clutching tight on the offering he wished to show his mother.

‘Mama!’ he called out as he reached near her.

‘Yes, my darling?’ she replies warmly.

‘Wook at what I found mama’ he urged for her to look once he reached the tail end of her towel, plopping down on her lap, causing her to grunt at the sudden weight while he thrusts his hands to her face, the offering in question presented. She moves to sit up, the young boy still in her lap as she adjusted her position and lifts her Ray-Ban’s to her head so to properly see whatever it was he so wanted her to well, see.

In his small hands, lay a green sea stone. Big enough to dwarf the small hands of a child like his own yet still small in the eyes of others. It rests softly in her son’s palms, smooth surfaced, and tinted seafoam, she understood why it would pick at her son’s interest.

‘That is beautiful love’ she praises, earning a prideful look from the little boy, his chest puffing out as his grin stretched much like a Cheshire cat. It earned a hearty chuckle from the mother, watching her son’s actions. Joyous and confident, much like how his father was before.

‘May I?’ she asked and once a nod was returned, she plucked the stone from his hands, holding it up to the sky. She hoped that what was left of the day was enough for the light to pass through the translucent glass and it did. The stone glowed bright like the waters before them.

A look of awe shaped the boy’s face, his mouth hung open as he stared at the rock, but the mother’s gaze only strayed for a bit before turning back to her son. The look on his face made every hardship worth it and yet again, it brought another wide grin to her face.

Pressing a quick kiss to his temples, she gave the rock back to him and still, he stared at it as if it contained the hidden magic of the world. Taking the moment with his attention pre-occupied, she brushed away the sands stuck to his skin, from his face to his pale torso, she brushed away as much as she could, but the rest would have to be washed away when they get back to their room.

Speaking of which, she glanced at the sun, the sky a canvas of pinks, oranges and violets as the sun sunk down low enough and it now meant that it was time for them to pack up and head back inside.

Her gaze lingered in the horizon until a tiny voice called her back.

‘Mama’ the child called for her.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Do you think papa would wike this?’ he asked, turning her attention back to him. There had been few and brief times that his father was asked about and often this was the question asked. The other times he’d ask were always of his father’s character. Stories of the man were told and a picture of him was kept among the boy’s things as a remembrance, but it had been a long while since he’s asked of him again.

She stared at the orbs identical to her son’s fathers and she couldn’t help but think of him. His charming smile, his careful touch, his loving gaze, and intoxicating smell. She longed to be back in his once safe arms, but she couldn’t, and that truth is to be accepted.

‘Yes he would luv’ she answers. The truth was, knowing her husband, he’d love anything and everything their little boy gave him. From a messily drawn card for Father’s Day and his birthdays down to a piece of cereal the boy had been eating, the man would have been grateful for anything his boy gave him.

‘Bwilliant’ he murmurs, and she just knows he will keep it safely stashed amongst the other things he thinks his father would like. It warmed her heart to have a son so kind and giving. It made her proud that he was growing up to be as so and she just hoped her husband would be as well.

‘Alright darling, we have to go pack up now. Go get your stuff and then we can go back to the room so you can have a bath and then dinner’ she explains to the young boy, tucking away the curtain of curls that hid his face behind his ears before cupping his cheek and giving his little button nose a kiss, causing him to giggle in her hold, his face scrunching up. ‘Alright?’

‘Okay mumma’ he nodded to her command and set off to get his toys and treasures from the sand. Watching him pick up his stuff, she began to pack up as well. Tidying up the drinks and towel she had brough and place them in her bag before brushing off the bit of sand that stuck to her skin before putting on the blue summer dress atop her swimsuit for when they head back to their room.

The boy trudged back to her with a heavy bucket in hand and his kiddie camera slung around his neck. The bucket nearly overfilled with all the stones and shells he collected, along with the beach toys he used to make the castle.

Dropping it with a heavy grunt, the boy huffed and puffed at the exertion, causing his mother to stifle a laugh yet still a sound managed to escape, her hand immediately flying to muffle the sound but seeing it went unnoticed, she relaxed and dropped it.

‘A bit heavy love?’ she asks.

‘A wot heavy’ he says, emphasizing the word like a true drama king. Wonder who he got that from?

‘Alright. Now, do you want to wear a shirt before we go back?’ she asks, offering him the top he wore earlier.

‘No tank you’ he declines, shaking his head.

‘Alrighty then’ she puts his shirt back in the bag before slinging it on her left shoulder and picking up the castle shaped bucket (which did weigh a lot, no wonder her son was left panting) with her left hand. Her right: out in offering for the young boy to hold as they slowly walked back to their hotel.

‘Did you have fun today?’ the mother asked as the walked along the beach.

‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he shouted in enthusiasm, jumping up and down. The mother could only smile at the boy’s joyous behaviour, glad that she could give him fun memories to look back on.

The rest of their walk was filled with conversation about what the new thing’s he discovered about the sea life, the castle he so artistically constructed and the promise of coming back here another day and by the time they reached the lobby of the resort, the mother could see how the exhaustion of the day was taking a toll on her little boy.

‘Ahh, Miss Ackland’ Mr Birch, the evening manager greeted from behind the reception ‘good day I presume?’ he questions, noting how tuckered out her normally energetic son was started to sag against her. With a brief glance to the boy and a small chuckle, she nodded.

‘Yes, it was good day. Especially for this one’ she replies, rubbing a thumb over the hand in her grasp, hoping to at least rouse the child until he’s eaten dinner.

The man chuckles a bit, seeing how unresponsive the boy is to her attempts. ‘My, the young tyke seems real knackered.’ he comments with an accent much like her own yet the way the words flow so smoothly would have anyone wrapped in a trance,

‘Yes well, all day out in the beach seems to do that’ she responds politely.

‘Well, best not keep you from your young one and leave you to it. Have a nice evening miss.’ he bids her well off with a gentle smile that would leave any woman with a common-sense to a puddle, yet she has her immunity, and she powered through with it.

‘Actually, would you mind sending some food to our room in 15, 20 minutes? We haven’t had the chance to get some dinner and I’m hoping to feed at least a little into him before he’s off for the night.’ She requests of the manager, really wishing to at least have her boy a few bites before going dead to the world.

‘Certainly miss.’ He dutily responds, already picking up a phone to call the kitchen ‘Just the usual ma’am?’ he asks of the meal, turning to her with the phone to his ear.

‘Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you Mr. Birch’ she says with a kind grin, faintly hearing his conversation as mother and son walked away.

‘Yes, to the Amphitrite suite in fifteen minutes… Thank you’.

---

Once the pair arrived back to their room, the sun had finally set, casting a now dark canvas, littered with twinkling stars, though it went unnoticed to the weary boy who had let go of his mothers’ hand as soon as they entered and dropped with a thud on the chalk white cushions once he was near enough while his mother, Ms. Ackland, relieved herself of the heavy weight she had been trudging since the beach.

‘Leo’ she called to the boy softly, opting to not chastise the young one when he was already weary. ‘Come on darling. Quick bath and some dinner then off to bed, sleepy head’

‘But I’m not sleepy’ he whined, an indicator of his true predicament, even as he refuses.

‘Well, a quick wash and some supper then’ she bargained even though she knew he’d out like a light by halfway through dinner and when she received no response, she added ‘and we’ll also wash up the shells and rocks you collected, and you can sort through them after.’ And with that, his head shot up, his curls bobbing as he ran (well more speed walk than run) with what energy he had left to her side, awaiting for her instructions and wanting to get his bucket of treasures so he could wash them.

With the young one finally clean and sand free, dressed in his favourite dark blue pyjamas, they set off to the sitting room portion of the suite, just in time for room service to arrive with their supper. Since Leo had his attention to his rocks and shells (fully washed and draining on a colander borrowed from the hotel), his mother was the one that had gone to get the food, still wearing her blue summer dress since there wasn’t enough time for her to get cleaned herself but she planned on doing so after her little boy had gone to bed.

She thanked the room service and closed the door of the suite before fixing up the plate of food and brought it to where little Leo was pre-occupied, seemingly sorting the rocks by colour and size on the towel laid out before him while he let the shells dry out in the colander a little bit longer. She sat beside him, setting the plate a good distance away from his work area and began to feed her little man.

The rest of that time had been quiet, save for the thud of rocks on the whitewashed coffee table and the occasional murmur to open his mouth so the mother could feed him bites of the pork Souvlaki. In between bites, she’d offer her opinion, helping out a bit on his activity but not once has he said anything. Only responding in nods and a shake of his head, another symptom of his fatigue and true to her word, with the plate half cleared, she noticed the lack of hands working through the rocks and a weight leaning on her. Turning her head, she found the boy sound asleep, a rock he had been looking at still in his grasp but the lack of movement and the slow and steady breaths he let out was enough for her to know.

Pushing the plate aside, she carded a hand through his curls, making him curl up more beside her and all that did was take her back to when it was her husband that did the same thing. Head on her lap, she would comb through his raven locks and all that would do was press a face farther onto her stomach, arms wrapping around her waist so he could pull her closer.

This was most endearing when she has pregnant. Her beloved would whisper to her belly in a hushed tone. Her hand, as always, in his head of hair and when her nails would start to scratch at his scalp, a content sigh always left him before he burrowed in the warm mass of her stomach.

Thinking back, those were near the last good moments she had of just the two of them. A loving husband, doting and caring to his beloved wife as the two prepared the arrival of their little one. So cheery and full of life, once was he and now all she could help but do is miss those moments, let alone the man he was back then.

After a small while, the mother took the boy in her arms and having done this so many times before, it was an instant that the boy instinctively wraps himself in his mothers’ hold, arms circling her neck, legs locking behind her as he laid his little head to her chest, right over where her heart beat a rhythm that often lulled him to sleep. She planted a kiss at the top of his head, right on his unruly curls at she took him to the bedroom.

Laying him down in the middle of the queen-sized bed, she laid with him for a bit to make sure he would no longer stir before carefully untangling herself from his hold. She propped some of the pillows beside him, just to make sure he wouldn’t move to far to edge and fall and covered him with his blankie before deciding it was enough and she left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Taking a survey of the suite, she figured on tidying up and finishing what was left of supper before taking a shower herself, wanting to be rid of the day’s clothes and into her own pyjamas while she indulged on some wine in the balcony.

Nearly giddy at the thought, she set off in doing so and half an hour later, she emerges from the ensuite in fresh clothes, warmed somewhat by a thin green cardigan she put over.

The mother then set off to the kitchenette where a good bottle of wine chilled in the mini fridge. Now without any distractions or hesitation, she took a wine glass the concierge so kindly provided, and poured herself a hearty amount, tasting the aged, fermented juice and relishing at the thought of getting lost from her head for a few hours after a glass or two.

With the glass near empty, it was then that she remembered that she hasn’t even touched her phone nearly the whole day and seeing it sat on the counter, with a quick reach, she had it in her hand. She wasn’t surprised of the lack of notifications, so she set it down and finished the last of her glass’s contents. What did surprise her though was the call that connected a minute later, the familiar name on the ID catching her unexpectedly.

She answered the call before it dropped, wanting to hear from the man after a while of no contact.

‘Thor’ she starts, putting the phone to her ear as she poured herself another glass. ‘Long time’

‘Yeah, um. It has, hasn’t it?’ his deep voice grumbles through the phone’s speaker.

‘Five months to be exact’ she clarifies, bringing the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

‘Sorry, it’s just…’ he started to explain himself, but she cuts him off.

‘No. Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t say that. I could have called but I didn’t, and I am as much to blame’ she clarifies, regretting making the comment when she didn’t want to take apologies when she was just as much at fault as he was.

‘Right, alright. Um, where’s little Leo?’ he asks, diverting the conversation to the boy so to get out of that uncomfortable subject.

‘Ohh, he’s already in bed. Sorry. Had a long day’.

‘Wow, that early. It’s just a little before nine. Usually, he’d still be very active. Well from what I can remember that is.’ The blond man chuckles, remembering the nights he’d spend with the very energetic child.

‘Actually, it’s about ten before 11 here.’

‘Her- Wudduya mean here? Aren’t you in town?’ the man asks, clearly very confused and he sounds it and that is her fault.

‘Ohh, were in Santorini on holiday. Sorry, I haven’t informed anyone really and I would have you but-’ you haven’t called, and I couldn’t make the call myself the last bit went unsaid but the both of them knew.

‘Oh, okay. Alright.’ He pauses for a while, leaving a pregnant silence to fill until he did. ‘Well, is it good there?’

‘Very’ she responds immediately, uncomfortable by that gap. ‘it’s beautiful. The water, the architecture, the culture, the people, it’s absolutely wonderful.’ She describes, looking to the balcony where there was a perfect view of the sea. ‘Leo’s enjoying himself too. Playing in the beach all day, making sandcastles and he collects shells and rocks that take his interest and earlier he went about to sorting them, but the little man fell asleep halfway into dinner. Too worn out from the day to even finish his sorting.’ She giggles a bit, remembering how the little boy looked all curled up beside her.

‘Seems like you’re having a good time.’ The man responds, a bit despondent but she didn’t hear that.

‘We are.’ She says with a bit of pride ‘we are’ she repeats though this time she’s uncertain and dejected because a part of her is guilty. For actually having a good time and without the man she loves. And another part.. just wants him. To be here with them. To enjoy this with them but, we can’t have all we want now can we.

She faintly heard someone talking, someone angry and that was followed by the sound of the phone shuffling before she heard Thor again.

‘Sorry Em, could you hold for a minute?’ he requests, and she answers back yes but before she could ask anymore, he mutes.

She put the phone on speaker and set it down, taking a gulp of her wine and as promised, after a minute, he came and called her back.

‘I’m back. You still there?’

‘Yah’ she manages before swallowing her drink ‘still here. Everything alright?’ she asks, wondering who it was that was so angry (though she should have known).

‘Yeah. Everything’s just fine’ he replies, sounding out breath.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. Terrific’ he says with far too much cheer, it annoyed her enough to know it was fake.

‘Thor.’ She says firmly, setting her glass down the marble counter ‘What’s going on?’ she demands sternly, using the voice she rarely would use to chastise Leo with when on bad behaviour, not wanting some half-arsed answer.

Again, a long of silence stretched on until with a heavy sigh, he began.

‘He’s in hospital again.’ He confesses and she shakes her head, knowing well who he meant. Irritated was she, evidently enough to pick up her glass and divide its contents into half.

‘He’s always in hospital’ she replies after swallowing, swirling the liquid around the glass and she watches in fascination, wanting to get her head from what he just said.

‘No. This is different.’ He presses, knowing the times he’s said this before were for minor and abrasive accounts.

‘What do you mean?’ she pesters, her voice now wobbly as a burst of possibilities swirled in her head.

‘He um- ‘he stops himself, swallowing the hard pill because knowing her, telling her this would only tear her apart. ‘He rang me earlier.’ That enough was a giveaway that something was wrong, the severity was the only missing piece. ‘He was in pain, and he could barely let out anything before he dropped the phone and groaned in agony.’ Her breathing hitched then, tears welling her eyes while her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I got to him as soon as I could, and when I found him, he was on the floor, in pain’ He hated repeating that but all he could do was relay the accounts of what happened as it was still all so fresh and hope he could filter it as much as possible. ‘I called for an ambulance and tried to get him to tell me what was happening, but he couldn’t even respond’ he chokes, remembering the sight and it flashes before his eyes, as if he was reliving the whole painful ordeal again.

Emma on the other hand, had tears quietly running her cheeks, hand still tightly clasped to her mouth for fear she would let out a sob that would not only alert Thor but Leo as well. Her mind ran rampant, creating images and images of her pained husband, lying helplessly in pain on the floor, asking for help to no one because of his solitude. Not knowing if he there was anyone coming at all.

Guilt held a tighter grip on her breaking heart as her mind convinced herself that it was her fault that he was alone. She should have been there. She shouldn’t have left. She should have taken care of him and maybe he wouldn’t be where he was if it she had just stayed and cared for him. But she didn’t and she wasn’t there when he was helplessly lying on the ground, wondering if the last thing he’d see was the dirt and bottles that undoubtedly littered the floors around him instead of his beloved wife and darling son.

She swallowed back the sob itching to escape her lips, desperate on not making a sound.

Her mind was taking a turn in the labyrinth it already was, taking her to unknown ends of painful scenarios her unyielding mind procures when she still doesn’t have the pieces to the whole story.

A creep of silence then went on for the benefit of both. Time for them to compose themselves before the once boisterous man continued.

‘The ambulance-’ he begins once more, though demurely ‘-arrived quickly. And they took him to the hospital immediately, seeing the state he was. Even the doctors didn’t know what was happening to him, but they gave him morphine for the pain.’ He somewhat assures and it relieves her a bit knowing he wasn’t in pain anymore. ‘They let him rest for a bit before they took him for tests. He’s resting now though. They’re keeping him for the night under observation but there was talk that the stay might be indefinite until they figured out what was wrong. Just in case another attack happened but you know him’ he teases lightly, not wanting to drown in the dampening mood this whole conversation, hell this whole ordeal has taken and neither did she so, she appreciates the lightening.

And she also knew what he meant. Her husband hated hospitals. Even stepping one foot inside churned his insides enough and being a patient? We’ll she knew enough to give her an idea of what happened.

It didn’t help her to think of his reaction to being told that he had to stay the night. Scared as he might have already been, the prospect of staying even longer undoubtedly terrified him and thus she concluded that he refused the longer stay.

Thinking of it, the only time he was at some sort of ease while in the hospital was when they took baby Leo for his newborn check up and even then he was anxious. The check-up had been a necessary. Just to assure the new parents that their little one was alright and properly checked on since a homebirth lacked that formality. The man himself had been the one to insist on the homebirth and Emma didn’t object to that, wanting to give the man a sort of peace as they brought their child to the world. His fears only eased once the doctor told them that everything is just as it should be about their newborn and there and only then did he relax as he rejoice on the fact that they had a health baby boy.

That clued her enough of his fear of hospitals and that information didn’t help her at all now.

‘The doctors are coming back in the morning for the results but after that, he insists on leaving’ he continuous to inform her, wary of her lack of response.

She hasn’t said anything since the start of his recount. Not a sound could be heard from her end of the line, and it unnerve him, making him check to see if the call was still on and it was. It took him a few good minutes, but he deduced why she was so silent.

He knew his sister well and the things he’s regaled to her… he just knew it was breaking her being apart.

‘Emma’ he called out, wanting to be sure he was still taking to someone. ‘you still there?’

‘yah’ she muttered, barely audible but he heard.

She had sunken to the floor, leaning against the counters as she pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she silently cried. Her phone still sat atop the island, her call with her brother-in-law still ongoing yet there she was, listening, tears running her cheeks as she listened to him describe the torment her beloved endured.

‘He needs you now’ the man murmurs, pleading for his brother’s sake that she come back. He knew his little brother wouldn’t take it if these pains continued on and he feared the day he would give up. And without the person he loves most, the person that had been his solace long before, his rock and home, he is terrified of that end coming too soon.

The woman could only swallow at the man’s words before clamping a hand on her mouth and burying her head to her knees as an unrelenting sob escapes her. She had no control of it and the others that followed but she did have control of how loud they would come to so she did her best to make as little sound as she possibly could.

Try as she did though, Thor heard her. Muffled as it was, he knew that sound better than he liked to admit and not once did his heart break not break for her every time.

‘just… please come back’ he begs her once more, intending to end the call and leave her to some privacy. He stays on for a bit longer and just as he was about to press the end button, she called out to him, saying his name in an unsteady voice, congested and clear that she had been crying.

Two days she wanted to say. Give her two days and she would do everything she could to be there as soon as possible but what left her mouth wasn’t so. ‘Take care of him for me’ she pleads her own, on the brink of another fit of sobs but she held on till the call ended.

‘Always’ he responds before ending the call and with that her resolve crumbles.

Once again, her hand flies to cover her mouth, going in to cover and muffle the onslaught of sobs she had no hope of controlling but… they never came. Whether it was for some preservation for Leo’s deep sleep or her sudden inability to, they never come. What took its place though was a rush of tears and a heavy heart.

Leaning back on the limewashed cupboards, she let her tears run and her heart sink for she thought she deserved it. The guilt eating at her from the inside. Churning her stomach to knots and crushing her heart to shreds. It manipulated her. Turning her to the villain at the heart of this mess when she had done nothing but protect herself and her son from the tragedy that was once a happy family.

Her mind was a cruel and fickle thing. Making her believe the lies it comes up with and without the one person who knew how to lead her out of the labyrinth, she was lost. Facing every new dreaded possibility at every dead end without escape or clue on how to get out because the person that always led her to the exit, became the reason she was lost and missed it.

She didn’t blame him though. Despite what the others do, not once did she blame the poor tortured soul of her husbands’ because how could she. She could have helped him and stayed by him, just as she vowed but breaking that promise lost her the right to blame, not that she would.

In sickness and in health… clearly she didn’t hold her promise on that.

She drew her knees back to her chest, letting her heart wrench while a hand rose to reach for the bottle of wine that still sat on the bench. Once she got that down, Emma took a big swig right out of the bottle, never minding the glass she used before. Her only goal. To suffer and hope she’d be numb enough to stop the tears from flowing.

And that’s how she spent the rest of the night. Sat on the kitchenette floor of her suite, back against the cupboards as she let her tears dry out while burning a bottles’ worth of wine through her liver, letting her guilt and sorrow drape over her as it would a child under a tablecloth on Halloween.

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