In the end, it's always Loki. It always has been, and it probably always will be. From the moment you set eyes on him he's been living in your brain, smirking lips dripping with mixed messages, green eyes serving as hard gates to hold back a flood of pain.
You're no stranger to such floods. To drowning. You've adjusted by now to the fact that you're never gonna have clear thighs, that you'll never be able to sleep with somebody without having to explain yourself beforehand, that every relationship is going to involve a talk. A talk about your past. You wonder sometimes what number you'll give - it happened six or so times on two or three different days, depending on how you count. You're not even sure you should count all six as true attempts. You know calling something a near attempt isn't particularly comforting, but... you don't want to be dramatic, or anything. You also wonder about meeting your parents. You don't want to speak badly of them, but if true love comes from absolute honestly you're going to have to be absolutely honest.
You keep the words "emotional neglect" locked in a special box deep in your mind. There's a rule for that box. You're not allowed to open it up unless somebody else says the words first, and nobody else is allowed to say them unless you explain the situation well enough that they're not just assuming, and the game ends when either you realize you're being stupid and the words are false or somebody finally tells you with certainly that that's what happened to you.
You don't talk to Loki about your parents. He doesn't talk to you about his. Sometimes you're jealous when he tells you about advice his mother gave him, or a time she comforted him as a child. He says it offhandedly, like that's just what mothers do. It is what mothers do.
You can't remember ever asking your parents for advice on anything.
Sometimes you feel guilty for being jealous, knowing what his parents -mostly his father- can be like. You aren't jealous of that side of things, only at the warmth in Frigga's smile, and that she always seems to know when something is off with you even though your on mother doesn't, and isn't that twisted?
You and Loki were adults when you met, but children when you first saw him.
It was the Spring Equinox on Asgard, and your parents had brought you to the castle for the festival. You remember getting separated from your family in the chaos, panicking in the noise and bustle of the crowd. You remember being moments away from tears when the Allmother found you. She recognized you.
"You're King Lucanus's only daughter, aren't you?"
You nodded, and she took your hand, leading you through the crowd. "Well, little princess, we should get you back to your family." The crowd parted for her as she walked, and she pointed people out to you in that warm voice of hers. "Those are my sons," she had said. "Thor, the older one with the fake sword, and Loki- the one reading." You had looked over and found the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, sitting on the floor by a pillar with a huge book about magic. You didn't even process Thor's presence until he struck Loki with the sword, causing Loki to calmly set the book aside, stand up, and leap at his brother ferociously. You had giggled, Frigga had sighed, pointed out your family, who were now within your sight, and went to scold her sons.
You had found your place at your family's side again without them realizing you had been gone. You didn't blame them - they were busy, talking to some friends of theirs from Asgard.
You returned home to Alfheim the next day, in your small kingdom with your three brothers and your books about magic, and ever since Prince Loki has occupied a space in your head.
You met properly many years later at Thor's birthday party. Thor had decided he wanted people from all over the realms to come and join him in some hunt or another, and your family was one of three royal families from Alfheim to get an invite. Alfheim is made up of multiple kingdoms all ruled by one man who is King of all the other Kings. This King has very important children who are meant to marry other very important children and have big fancy weddings and then birth their own very important children.
Your father is a more minor King. He has four important children, but the closest any of you get to being very important is your older brother, because he is the heir. You are not the heir. Your father doesn't really believe in forcibly marrying off his children, so if you end up in a political marriage it'll be your choice. Yay. You have a some freedom when it came to your life - at least, in theory.
When you went to that party, you had no idea what you wanted to do with your life. You knew you didn't like hunting though, so you stayed behind in the castle during the hunt (despite your family trying to convince you to come have fun with everybody else). So did Loki.
He saw you sitting alone at a table and sat down across from you, fixing you with that smirk of his. "And who might you be, m'lady?"
You gave him your first name. He raised an eyebrow.
"As in the princess?"
"You've... heard of me?"
He chuckled. "Of course I've heard of you. I'm the prince of Asgard, it is my duty to know about the royals in the realms, particularly the ones who are invited to my brother's birthday hunt."
"I met your brother earlier, he hadn't heard of me."
"Thor is an idiot. Ignore him, that's what I try to do."
You smiled, but tried to hide it because laughing at the heir to Asgard felt bad.
"Don't hide that smile, darling. Nobody can fault you for finding me amusing."
"Well, my prince, may I ask why you aren't on the hunt?"
"I could ask the same to you, my princess."
You blushed, staring down at the table. "I don't enjoy hunting."
"Hm, neither do I. What do you enjoy, then?"
"Oh, you know... art, and magic, and... those sorts of things."
"How intriguingly vague, my dear. Do tell me more."
You chewed on the inside of your lip nervously, trying to figure out if he was being genuine or not. You looked up at him, and found that his eyes were still fixed on you intently, as though he were studying you. "I... I like potions. I like... alchemy, and enchanting. Taking things and turning them into other things, or... making them useful."
His gaze got even more intense. "A fascinating topic. I'm a sorcerer myself. Such things are not well appreciated in Asgard, at least not compared to brute force and bloodshed, but magic is still quite necessary." He leaned back in his seat. "You know, little elf princess, our apothecary has been having a hard time finding prospective apprentices. That's how poorly magic is treated here"
"I'm not little."
He shrugged. "Maybe not in age, and maybe not even in stature, but you have made yourself small. Or maybe somebody else has made you small."
You just sat there, not sure how to respond.
"Now back to my point, our apothecary needs an apprentice. Somebody with your skill set."
"Are you suggesting that I come here to be the apothecary's apprentice?"
"Why not? I know you're a princess, but plenty of minor elven royals take up respected jobs in the castles of other kingdoms."
"Well, yes, but usually not until they are older. Leaving home for an apprenticeship is... it's not something that I'd considered as an option."
"Would your parents not allow it?"
"They would not stop me."
"Then consider it."
You did consider it. You talked to Loki until the hunt returned, at which point he vanished before he had a chance to meet your family. You watched him from a distance for the rest of the night, head filled with thoughts of emerald green, apothecaries, and Asgard.
You didn't tell your parents when you wrote to Asgard about the apprenticeship. You didn't tell your parents when you were accepted, nor when they promised you room and board in exchange for the work you'd be doing. You didn't tell your parents until a day after the agreement was completely finalized. It went... interestingly. They didn't try and stop you, but they asked a lot of questions and cast a lot of judgement. When you told your father you wanted to be an apothecary he said "I believe you believe that, but I don't think you'll actually do it." You didn't know how to respond to that, so you said nothing.
At the end of the conversation you felt far less nervous about leaving home. You also felt judged, belittled, guilty, and a tad angry. You went to your room and started to pack.
Your third interaction with Loki was the second day of your apprenticeship. He found you in the gardens after dinner.
"I heard you had taken my advice."
"My prince. Yes, I have."
"Call me Loki."
And from then on, you have.
It's been a few years now. The scars on your thighs are scars, not wounds, and you haven't added to your uncertain tally in a while either. Still, better isn't the same thing as 'okay.' You still think often about how if you want to find true love, you're going to have to be absolutely honest.
It's still Loki you picture when you think of spilling your guts to somebody. Still Loki you imagine having to stop from taking your clothes off because "before you see all of me, I have to tell you something." It's still Loki you imagine telling that "well, I guess it depends on what you consider an attempt." It's still Loki you're in love with, and you're still afraid.
You arrive back to Asgard after a visit home to find him waiting for you by the Bifrost.
"You've been crying."
You hadn't been expecting to find him here, you had hoped you'd have time to sort out your face before you saw him.
"Do you miss home?"
You sigh, staring at the rainbow bridge beneath your feet as you walk. "I miss it sometimes. I miss childhood. I miss when things were simpler."
"You never talk about your childhood."
"What is there to talk about?"
"Plenty, I would imagine."
You fall silent. Loki takes your hand and leads you to a stretch of grass, where he guides you to sit down.
"Tell me, little princess. What is it that's making you so sad?"
You hug your knees to your chest. "I don't know. Memories."
"Of?"
"My childhood, I guess."
Loki waits a long moment for you to clarify, and when you don't, he continues. "You never talk to me about your feelings."
"You never talk to me about yours."
"Well, this isn't about me."
You open your mouth to argue, but he gives you a look that says it's a losing battle. He's determined, and you're too tired to play the who's-more-stubborn game today.
"I don't need to talk about my feelings. I can handle them myself. I always have."
He tilts his head. "Always? Even as a child?"
"For as long as I can remember."
"Well that's not very fair now is it."
Another tear rolls down your cheek. "No. No it isn't."
You sit there in silence for a long, long moment. And then, for some reason, you find yourself compelled to say more. "I was yelled at through my first panic attack. Not that they realized that's what was happening."
"oh, darling."
More tears. "You know, I can't even bring things up to them, because they always said I could talk to them about anything, but talking only ever made things worse, so it became my choice that we never talked about it, and it all became my fault, and it feels like it's all my fault and that if I just tried harder to communicate then they would've understood me and then they would have helped me and then I wouldn't've-" A sob.
Loki wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. "No, no, it's not your fault. Don't say that."
You shake in his arms. "And I just- I always feel like I just need to try harder, speak more clearly, communicate better, that they're here for me and I'm the one isn't accessing their help properly, but then I- I just- I just want to get them to understand me and they never do. And I don't know what to do, and it's just-" you take a deep, shaky breath. "Even when I did communicate, even when the worst happened, they still didn't help me. They still just left me to handle it myself, and it's like they didn't even realize they were doing it. And I know they're not trying to but-"
"Does that matter?"
You paused for a long moment. "It does. If they wanted to hurt me it would be much worse, and if they were trying to be... to not be there for me, then that would be different."
"Yes, but even if it could have been worse, you're clearly still hurting. Whatever it is they were trying to do, they hurt you in some way. Nobody is allowed to take that from you."
The conversation carries on from there. Somehow Loki draws out every bit of pain you've been hiding from him, every last piece. Every last hidden box full of secret rules.
By the end you fall asleep in his arms. This was the hard part. Someday soon, it'll probably be easy to tell him that you love him.