My Prince

As you begin to explain to him the way you got around his shackle, able to cast the spell to cover up the scars that Michael had subjected you to long ago, you talk about the caloric drain and how you fought to find the middle ground between keeping a lady-like demeanor and getting the sustenance you needed.

“Obviously, I didn’t find that balance,” you say, scoffing as you shake your head and look down in to your lap.

Pausing as you watch Loki’s hand lift from his lap, you feel him trace the part of your back that is bare, fingering each and every scar that Michael had inflicted.

Clearing your throat, you look down at your hands as you proceed, “And then when Michael appeared in the throne room, your father was so welcoming, and you were so proud of yourself, and I didn’t want to be rude because that is not my place, so I let it slide, thinking that while he would play mind-games, he wouldn’t actually attempt to lay a hand on me.”

“Until Sif intervened…” Loki trails off, his gaze still on your back as he slowly pulls the back of your nightgown out, his free hand balling in to a fist as he gazes upon yet more scars cascading down your weakened back.

Nodding slowly, Loki turns his attention back to you as he asks the question that has been weighing down on his mind since you started your story.

“It takes a great amount of practice and strength to overpower that shackle, Miss Y/N…”

Feeling your lips purse, you blink away tears as Loki’s voice lowers.

“You are not human, are you?”

Shaking your head slowly as the tears fall down your cheeks, Loki brings his hand out and rubs your fragile back, the warmth of his touch reassuring your hesitant mind.

“What are you?” he pleads.

“Loki…”

“Please, Y/N,” he says, removing his hand from your back as he takes your hands within his, “Please tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, your entire body shaking with nerves, you look up at him and say, “I am a guardian.”

Watching as his face slowly drops, he slowly removes his hands from yours as his eyes widen.

“You are…a what?” he asks, his tone of voice bewildered.

“A guardian. But…I-I-I…I’m not just one of the guardians…” you trail off.

“Oh, good Jotuns,” Loki breathes, shooting up from his chair as he runs his fingers through his hair, his gaze darting all over the room, but never quite falling back to you.

“…I’m the Guardian,” you finish, your voice barely above a whisper as tears cascade down your cheek.

“Oh gods,” he groans, his face in his hands as he shakes his head.

“My Prince, please,” you whisper, begging him as you reach out for his hand, your shaking legs trying desperately to carry you towards him.

“No!” he roars, causing Sif to run through the doors with Thor quickly behind her.

His voice was abrasive, and your shock caused you to stumble, hitting your rear on the marble floor as you hiss in pain.

“No,” he whispers, tears cresting his eyes as he looks down at you, “You will never call me that again, do you hear me!?”

As your aching jaw trembles, you plant your hands on the floor, trying desperately to get up…to revive some sort of decency within yourself, instead of being weak and defeated and useless.

“So…so you are the White Guardian…the most powerful being in the galaxy…and…and youu submitted as my concubine!?”

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling Sif’s arms under yours as she helps you up off of the floor, casting Loki a disgusting look as she steadies you to your feet.

“Thank you,” you mouth to her.

“Why!?” Loki throws his arms in the air, distancing himself from you two as he continues to pace.

“Because the other option was Michael,” you breathe, your head sinking into your hands as your back hunches over, your spine rippling out from under your skin as you hear Sif gasp at your sight.

“His father is a police officer on Earth,” you sob, feeling your tears tumble off of your cheeks, “There was nowhere I could run…nowhere I could hide. Wherever I went, he found me.”

“Oh, my dear friend,” Sif says comfortingly, rubbing your face lightly as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

Watching as Sif reaches out for something, you feel her press a cup to your lips.

“Here. Drink,” she urges as Loki looks upon the spectacle in front of him, his body unable to move.

Hearing Thor attempt to calm Loki down in the other room, you stop drinking when you hear him thunder from the waiting room.

“You mean, all of this time, you both knew about Michael AND her actual form and yet NONE OF YOU FELT INCLINED TO INFORM ME!?!”

“Oh, no,” you groan, taking wobbling, uneasy steps on your feet as Sif takes your arm, ushering you into the other room as your bruises quickly become more prominent.

“It was not our place, Loki,” you hear Thor attempt to explain, “The only reason I found out was because Sif sat me down a-”

“That is enough,” Sif bites off, causing both of the men to turn and look at you, their faces dropping for a second before resuming their fighting stance.

“No! No, I think I deserve to know, do you not agree!?” he roars as he turns his gaze in your direction, his piercing eyes flaring with anger and hurt.

“Why did Sif feel the need to talk with Thor, Miss Y/N?” he spits your name.

“Because I asked her to be my Warrior,” you whisper, your gaze casting down as you close your eyes, waiting for the triumphant war cry of dishonor to come barreling down upon your ears.

As Loki pauses, his eyes wild and his face contorted in hurt and betrayal, he scoffs and says, “And you never once stopped to think that I would be a better fighter than her?” he bites, earning a scowl from Sif as he takes a step closer to you.

Raising your head slowly as you find yourself at a loss for words…and suddenly very afraid…your hands begin to shake again as you slowly take a step back.

“It never occurred to you that maybe I deserve the position more than her..after all I’ve given you?” he inquires, his voice growing once again in volume.

“I gave you a home. I gave you clothes. I gave you nourishment, and romance, and jewelry, and dancing, and wine…”

Hearing him rattle off the list, your chest being to constrict as your sobs escape as whimpers.

“As a concubine, it is your duty to fulfill my sexual needs…yet, have we ever engaged in such a thing?” he asks, his eyes searching for your gaze as he wretches your face up, Sif putting her hand on Loki’s arm to try and get him to back down.

“Did I ever take what wasn’t mine!?” he roars as your eyes widen, your body visibly shaking.

“N-N-…no,” you choke out.

“Loki, that is enough!” Sif yells, finally pushing Loki’s grasp away as she catches your falling body, standing in front of you as she holds you up while you try to get your feet back under you.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Loki,” you plead as tears begin to soak your cheeks again.

“Then what did you want!? Huh!!? What was all of this for!?!” he roars, pushing Sif out of the way as Thor runs to gather her up of of the floor.

“I just wanted to be perfect for you,” you whisper, your teary-eyed gaze staring directly into his chest as your back presses flush against the way, trying to avoid the anger and hurt in his eyes that you have unwillingly caused.

“You are the most powerful being in the galaxy…” he emphasizes, pulling back lightly from you as his voice softens from anger to hurt.

“…and yet you are no better than my Father,” he finishes.

“Loki, please,” you cry out, reaching for his hand as he shakes you off, careening you back onto the marble floor as he spins around, the hurt replacing itself with disgust.

“You are the most powerful woman in the universe…” he reiterates, his teeth gritted in your presence as his jaw tenses.

“Act like it,” he spits as he holds out his hand, your shackle clattering to the ground in 4 pieces as he turns his back on you and walks out the door.

As your whimpers give way to sobs, your chest heaving as it robs you of your words, you hear Loki’s father thunder at him down the hallway, demanding he stop as Sif shoo’s Thor after his brother.

“Oh my god,” you choke out, sobbing into the broken shackle in your hands that had finally been something you wore with pride instead of shame, “What have I done?”

And as you hear Frigga approach you, wrapping a warm shawl around your shoulders, her and Sif help you to your feet as you hold the remnants of your relationship with Loki, broken and lifeless, in the palm of your hands as you clutch them close to your chest…the broken shackle catching your tears as the women escort you back to your room.