A Friend
Loki hid beneath a table in his mother’s rooms. She was speaking softly not too far away with one of her ladies in waiting. Thor was running around somewhere trying to find him. They were playing hide and seek, a game Loki never lost. Mischief and trickery were things he was good at. Helped by the magic taught to him by his mother. His enchantments hid him from everyone and everything. Thor wouldn’t find him until he wanted to be found. Loki was only interested in seeing how long his brother would keep looking before he wandered off to do something else.
But then the tablecloth lifted to admit a girl. A girl who looked right at him and wasn’t fooled.
“What are you doing under the table?” she asked him, dark brows lowered over dark eyes and shaded by a curtain of messy dark hair.
“You’re not supposed to see me.” Loki frowned.
“Why not? You’re right there.”
“Are you magic?”
The girl froze, her face becoming panicked, “No,” she said, but Loki wasn’t convinced.
“Yes you are, you can’t lie to the god of trickery.”
“You’re eight,” she pointed out, “you aren’t god of anything.”
“You’re eight, you don’t know anything about me.” he felt something probe at his mind, his inner consciousness. It poked and prodded as though unused to encountering resistance. It was her, she was magic. And she was using it to enter the mind of the Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief. How dare she.
Loki flung his own magic out, sharp as knives, and dug into the accidental bridge she had extended between them. She flinched and struggled as he crossed it into her own mind, eyes wide in fear. He met no resistance and gained control easily. The inside of her head was warm and decorated with pretty pictures. Paintings of monsters and heroes along with the occasional landscape. He got the vague sense of a story that went with each one. He liked her mind, but there was a dark corner that stank of fear and doubt and anger. He could feel the sting left over from a slap, he could hear indistinct yelling. He stuck to the stories.
He held her still, “So you are magic. You shouldn’t have lied.” Her consciousness snapped at him, but Loki ignored it, “Admit that I’m the God of Trickery,” he ordered.
She managed to shake her head just barely.
“Fine then,” he glared and then smiled as an idea surfaced, “You’ll just have to bow.” He forced her to lower her head in respect. Or, he tried, but the girl managed to writhe out of his mental grip and fling him from her head.
Loki’s head physically snapped backwards with the force she threw his mind out with.
“You’re mean,” she accused, tears lining her eyes, though she didn’t cry.
The accusation hit a nerve. Loki had never wanted to be mean or cruel, he just wanted to win something. That’s why he loved hide and seek. Thor won everything: friends, inheritance, their father’s attention, but he couldn’t win hide and seek. This girl had found him and then tried to enter his mind, so he had taken hers. He had only wanted to win, but instead he had hurt.
Shame twisted in his stomach, but that same shame kept him from apologizing. So instead he said, “You tried to read my mind.”
“If you stay out of my mind I won’t mess with yours,” she promised, extending an olive branch. One which his pride kept him from accepting.
“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, I’ll do what I want.”
“You’re mean,” she said again.
“Good,” he retorted, “Get out from under my table.”
The girl turned to obey and Loki’s heart sank. He didn’t want her to leave, he wanted her to stay. He wanted this friend all his own. He wanted a friend who wouldn’t stop looking for him during hide and seek. He wanted a friend who knew how to find him. He wanted a friend who wouldn’t always see him as second best. This girl was magic, she was the same as him. He wanted a friend like him whose strong suits were their cunning and intelligence. He wanted Thor to have to hangout with her through him, the way he hung out with Sif and the warriors three through Thor. He was sorry he had hurt her and he didn’t want her to leave.
“Wait,” he pleaded, “What’s your name?”
“Sigyn,” said the girl.
“You can stay if you want. I can’t control you anymore.”
“I don’t want to stay. You’re here.”
Had he been anyone else, he might have winced, but as it was, Loki didn’t react. He merely shrugged, “Your choice.” He watched her leave the table and wished he had been gentler. His regret and shame turned to anger. If she wouldn’t like him then he would hate her.